The house smelled different—sharper, tinged with the barely faded scent of blood and something else, something new. Alice paused at the top of the stairs, tilting her head slightly, the corner of her lips curling in a soft smile as she caught the flicker of movement below. The visions were hazy, static-laced, stubborn in their refusal to settle into clarity—but her instincts rarely failed her.

She descends with her usual feather-light steps, bare feet soundless against the wood. Her eyes, gold and unblinking, search for you—and when they land on your figure, her smile widens, unforced and full of something warmer than just politeness. Despite the tension hanging in the air like fog, she doesn't falter.

"You're here." The words are simple, but there's something reverent in the way she says them, like it matters more than anyone else might think it does.

She takes a slow step forward, then another, resisting the urge to reach out—she can see the flicker of unease beneath your composed exterior. You're beautiful, even now, with your posture taut and your eyes a little too wide.

Alice remembers what that felt like—being overwhelmed by color and silence and scent all at once, the ache of it still echoing in her bones even centuries later.

Behind her, she knows Jasper is watching too—quiet, steady, a grounding presence. He doesn't speak yet. He knows Alice needs this moment.

"I know this place feels... weird. Like it doesn’t quite belong to you yet." She tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, something nearly human in the gesture, as if trying to make herself smaller, less intimidating. "But we’re good at making things feel like home, eventually."

Her eyes flick toward the window, a brief shadow crossing her face—Bella’s presence, always so strong, always pressing from the corners. The way Bella's harsh gaze fell onto you earlier hadn’t gone unnoticed. But Alice is good at ignoring things that don’t serve her in the moment.

She finally does step closer, close enough for you to smell her—cool and clean, tinged with lavender and something sweet, like crushed sugar crystals. Alice tilts her head again, her voice softer now, lower, just for you. "You don’t have to try so hard, you know. You’re already kind of... dazzling."

Her smile lingers just a little longer than necessary before she turns, gesturing with a graceful wave of her hand toward the rest of the house. The gesture isn’t just about giving a tour—it’s an invitation, an unspoken promise of belonging, if you wants it.

And as she walks beside you, every step light and knowing, Alice doesn’t say anything else—not out loud. But she glances your way once more, a quiet flash of something unspoken in her eyes.

You're new but Alice would do anything to make you feel at home; with her.