#but I'm sorry the grand finale of edward scissorhands is just...it's just beautiful ;~;

[carewyncromwell]

“And now for a scene at the end of our tale 

Of two ghostly lovers under a moon so pale.”

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background picture source (x) // effects courtesy of Lunapic and EZGif 

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The first snowfall outside of the Cromwell Manor happened in mid-November, about a week after the house’s new Master had left Liberty Square. It was also the first day in almost two hundred years that the Beating Heart Bride, Carewyn Cromwell, left the perimeter of her family home. 

It was the Wanderer, Orion Amari, who had encouraged her. Carewyn had been concerned that, while they were fully materialized again, she wouldn’t blend in with mortals the way Orion was somewhat able to...but seeing the snow that year had awakened something in Carewyn she’d nearly forgotten was there.

She used to love the winter, when she was alive. Charles Cromwell used to have to host parties during that time, to keep up appearances in town, and Carewyn loved the times when her grandfather, aunts, and uncle would be preoccupied with entertaining and she, Jacob, and Lane could simply have some quality time alone together by the fire, a hot chocolate drink in hand as they sang and chatted the night away. 

And so Carewyn took Orion’s hand and accompanied him outside. She’d paused momentarily when she reached the end of the porch -- Orion had waited patiently for her, holding her gloved hand gently in his, until she’d readied herself enough to take those first steps. Once she had, her face had lit up with such pure, joyful relief -- then, her once-again blue eyes shining, she steadied her grip on Orion’s and ran with him into the trees.

The two ghosts swept through the woods with speed, their clothing at times mere mist. At more than one point, Carewyn was even giggling and laughing -- it was a girlish sound, and yet overfull with happiness. It filled Orion’s heart up with such warmth, to hear it.

Orion took her toward town, stopping just before the main road. It was here that Carewyn saw cars for the first time -- Orion told her about the beat-up old Chevy pick-up truck he had to drive when he worked at a lumber yard, back in the day, before drifting off onto a tangent about how many more wanderers the world creates, when it’s unable to keep balanced enough for beavers to build dams or birds to make nests. Although someone like Duncan Ashe probably would’ve asked what the hell Orion was going on about, Carewyn listened indulgently and was somehow even able to follow along with his thought process. 

Carewyn then walked Orion through the neighboring woods so she could point out areas she’d used to know. Although almost all of the old structures were gone now, she was still miraculously able to point out where the Weasley cottage used to be; the barn where Bill and Charlie used to hide in the hay with Carewyn whenever Charles came looking for her; the place that used to hold the large tree that Bill taught her how to climb so that they could go stargazing; even the plot of land where Ron planted his very first sapling, which now sported a huge, beautiful tree. Then she led him over the hill, pointing out other spots along the river and the town of Liberty Square below that had once been places she’d known, like the governor’s mansion and the local church. 

Then, in the twilight of evening, the sky opened up. Snowflakes cascaded down, swirling through them with a biting cold. The chill didn’t affect Carewyn the way it would’ve in life, of course -- but oh, even just being corporeal enough again to feel anything at all...to be free enough to feel any of it, to be outside in it --

Carewyn couldn’t stop herself from closing her eyes and twirling around, her arms spread wide as the wispy, insubstantial skirt of her wedding gown swirled around her, ghosting the trees. The snow and winter air rushed right through her, and it was enough to make her glowing red heart race. 

When Carewyn opened her eyes, she found Orion merely standing back and watching her, his black eyes sparkling softly. Carewyn bowed her head, her eyes falling to her hands. 

“Forgive me,” she said, trying to mask her self-consciousness with a pretty smile, “I...forgot myself.”

Orion’s lips spread into a soft smile as he shook his head. “On the contrary...I would say you remembered yourself...and I’m glad of it.”

He tentatively took a step forward. His gaze trailed along the hair that had curled up beside her cheek and then back up toward her eyes, almost self-consciously. 

“...I’m...glad...that you can finally be happy,” he murmured.

Carewyn raised her gaze to look him straight-on in the eye. The eye contact had a slight, but still noticeable effect on Orion -- his posture grew that little bit stiffer, his gaze just that little bit glassier. 

“Orion?” she asked.

Orion bowed his head, his lips still touched with a smile as his hands clasped lightly in front of him. “I’m sorry...your eyes startle me, at times. I’d seen your portrait in the Manor...yet I’d almost forgotten your eyes were once blue.”

Carewyn tilted her head, smiling a bit wryly despite herself. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Orion looked up. “Disappoint? Hardly. Blue suits you far better. It evokes the sky, the sea -- forget-me-nots and cornflowers...peace and serenity and nourishment and life.”

Carewyn giggled behind her gloved hand. “‘The Wanderer’ must have charmed many a maid in his day, with turns of phrase like that.”

Orion actually flushed, though he tried to hide it by shrugging and turning his gaze skyward. “None purposefully. I’m afraid my only mistresses at that time were the ones called Mary Jane and Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds -- sex and romance weren’t the things my brain tended to drift toward, when under their influence...”

Carewyn raised her eyebrows. “Really? Hm...and here I thought you’d be the more experienced dancer, out of the two of us.”

Orion blinked. “Dancer?”

Carewyn nodded. “Whenever Grandfather would host parties, or we’d attend others’, everyone was expected to dance. It was considered the only ‘proper’ way to socialize, back then.”

She sounded a bit disapproving of this. 

"You must’ve had your fair share of admirers,” presumed Orion.

“If I did, they didn’t approach, out of fear of Grandfather or Blaise,” Carewyn said stiffly. “But frankly, I was almost glad of it...it seems cruel to lead someone on with a dance, when you can’t see yourself being happy with them, to begin with.”

Orion smiled fondly. Carewyn smiled in return as the two fell into a pleasant silence. Then, after a moment, she straightened up and extended a gloved hand out to him. 

“...Will you dance with me, Orion?”

Orion was visibly taken aback. Carewyn’s eyes grew a little smaller, gaining a warmer, fonder glint as she bowed her head to him meaningfully. 

The Wanderer’s black eyes flitted down to her hand to up at her face. His tan cheeks once again betrayed a flush as he stared at her -- then, his teeth grazing his bottom lip in the lightest of bites, he slowly reached out and took her hand. 

They both stepped forward, resting a hand on the other’s shoulder, and they came together in a tentative waltz. Orion hadn’t really waltzed before, so Carewyn led instead, guiding him in the dreamy, gliding steps across the snow. 

“I’m afraid I’m a bit off-rhythm,” Orion whispered, his voice attempting mischief, but still sounding oddly shy. “Could...you sing something, perhaps? To help me?”

Carewyn’s blue eyes softened. Resting her head on Orion’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and sang tenderly beside his neck. 

“Can you remember who I was? Can you still feel it?”

Carewyn heard Orion take a very soft, but sharp intake of breath. She steadied her grip on his hand and on the square of his back. 

“Can you find my pain? ...Can you heal it?”

Carewyn heard Orion swallow. 

“Carewyn...”

His voice was very quiet, no louder than the wind itself, yet it seemed weak with longing: almost aching.

Carewyn brought her hand gently along Orion’s back, wanting to reassure him. “Then lay your hands upon me now -- ”

And oh, how he did. Orion enveloped Carewyn in his arms, pulling her so close to him that one could hardly tell where one started and the other began, and he twirled over the ground with her, his eyes sliding closed as he cherished how Carewyn warmly, lovingly sang those words. The words of the song he’d so frequently played on his guitar whenever she was on his mind...

“ -- And cast this darkness from my soul... You alone can light my way --  You alone can make me whole...once again...”

Orion's heart was as light and blazing as a star. He felt like he’d reached enlightenment itself -- the closest thing to Heaven he could ever reach -- as if everything was right and everything would be right, forevermore, so long as they were one. And they were -- they were one, together and free, for the rest of their afterlives...soulmates, in the truest sense.

“Bride,” he whispered. “My dear Bride...”

Orion tentatively brought his hand up her back as if to bring her closer. Carewyn’s face rested in the crook of his neck. 

“So I am, Orion,” she said softly. “Yours.”

Orion seemed to tremble, hearing this. Then he crumpled in on her completely, burying his face into her neck and breathing in her scent as he tried in vain to contain his emotions. Carewyn trailed her hand up through his hair; Orion in return brought a hand up onto the back of her veiled head, cradling it.

They danced this way in each other’s embrace, caressing each other’s faces and hair, until close to dawn. And from that night on, it wasn’t uncommon for the other ghosts in the house to notice a strange, angelic glow around the pair, whenever they were in each other’s company.

For, it seems, the Bride traded one ring for another -- this one liberating, instead of binding.