Go away, Leah. i can take care of myself.

independent seth clearwater
semi-public. twilight rp.
_________

❝He has one of the purest, SINCEREST, kindest minds I've
[ EVER] heard.
You are lucky
to share his thoughts
.❞

--- Edward Cullen
.........................

# u l e y o m e g a
# s e t h c l e a r w a t e r

iwascontent:

           She certainly wasn’t going to catch it, though agile eyes caught his fingers slipping and the cup crashing to the ground. Why would she endanger the expensive heels on her feet, or the designer jeans that covered pale skin to the juice that threatened them?
                                                       
 It was that, and of course, that she believed a dog belonged on all four, yes?

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                   ”Well—- I certainly hope not.”

       Edward had spoken highly of this particular wolf spawn, and Rosalie would admit (only to herself) that she did favor him, but it scorned her to say it. At least he was not like Jacob, or rather, Fido the mutt.

             A sarcastic person has a superiority complex that can be cured only by the inevitable authenticity of humility. Not that she frequently employed sardonicism in her speech, but she was certainly very frigid.
                                                              No matter.
  Any man or woman who thinks his or herself to be important—is usually just a pompous individual who cannot be bothered to deal with confrontation of his or her own insignificance; the fact that what they do is—more often than not—considered inconsequential.

Seth was bothering nobody by being here. Existing. Drinking orange soda, of all things. Even if, he, to a vampire—affectionately denoted as ‘blood suckers’ by dear Jacob Black—displayed all the perspicacity and intellectual depth of fetid lunch meat.

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               He hops back onto his toes with a now soiled paper towel–several, actually. Small white serviettes once full with their quilted patterns in-tact.
             Seth folded them carefully, keeping his pace until it made a damp and vaguely pink sort of square–which he then proceeded to toss into the garbage can in the kitchen, to the left hand side. 
                                                     His hands were sticky. 
                                                He wiped them on his pants.

                                     ❝…Please don’t look at me like that.❞    
                                           ❝You aren’t perfect, you know.❞
                 ❝…I mean, it’s not like you’ve never dropped anything before.❞