💒 for the toast my muse would give at your muse’s wedding. [oh lord why is he there idec XD]
He knew they were getting married. A practice that had never meant much to him. It was so human, so pathetic. Though those were synonyms, of course. He was miles away, across the world in the tower of Volterra, over-drunk on his latest victim, the blood still dripping down his face and over the brim of the ornate glass goblet he had filled.
“To the groom,” Aro called out, quite unannounced. The other Volturi grew silent instantly, used to outbursts like this. Aro stood, striding towards the center of the room, directly over the drain. “And to the bride, of course. The newest addition to the Cullen family.” He spoke the word with as much derision as possible. “May they ever be happy, may they be blessed by whatever gods watch over the undead and the damned,” he said, gesturing wildly sloshing blood out of his glass.
He took a long draw, remembering once again how much sweeter blood was than wine. “A toast to their health. To their health!” he repeated, glaring at his subordinates. The few with glasses of their own raised them cautiously.
Pleased, he continued. “A toast to the marriage. To Edward and Bella. A match so unlikely, you’d think it was written in a Greek tragedy,” he chuckled. He wiped at the blood on his chin. “May they ever be blessed. And may they come to their senses at long last,” he muttered, tipping his goblet to pour some blood down the drain. “A terrible waste,” he sneered, returning to his throne. The rest of the Volturi exchanged a glance, then began to murmur amongst themselves. Aro finished his glass and tossed it aside.
