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Now that I didn't need to breathe, I could do so with ease and comfort, something I had not been able to enjoy in far longer than I wanted to think about.

Perhaps it was Vlad's blood, or my own personal strength, but within days I could tolerate indirect sunlight. Edward was quite jealous. He still couldn't tolerate anything more than the faintest twilight. That hardly hampered our relationship, any more than the faint niggling feeling that something- something terribly important, was missing from my life.
I ignored it as best I could.

The years flew by in their company. My living years seemed to grow breifer and breifer in memory, washed away by the taste of blood and Edwards ready wit and companionship.

I loved him all the more now, and Vlad as well. They were more dear to me, as others I knew faded. After a few brief years, we were forced to quit London. I still wrote to Henry, and he would write back, telling me of his wife, his father's death, his children, his grandchildren, describing them in glowing detail until I felt I knew them- and asking with every letter when I would return home to London, to see them myself.

And with every letter- even as I told him of my adventures across the world, I told him the same thing. I would return when the time was right- for now, I had been hired as a companion for an Older Gentleman, and later that the same man had left me some money to continue traveling . Always some excuse.