Some Beach
Jasper stepped off the plane in Florida, his shoulders finally free from the invisible weight of his century-long sentence. The warm, humid air hit him like a wall, a stark contrast to the cold, stone halls of Volterra. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, thinking, “A hundred years with the Volturi, and I still don’t have their flair for dramatic cloaks. Probably for the best – I’d look like a sweaty bat in this weather.” As he settled into his hotel room, the soft bed felt alien after years of Spartan accommodations, a prelude to the new life ahead.
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