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</div><br/><b>Name:</b>Belle<br/><b>Location:</b>Chansons-Du-Crépuscule<br/><b>Tagging:</b>No one at this time, but Robin is in the same village<br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/><i>“Did you hear…” </i>A woman muttered softly to her companion.<i>“Another murder, the fifth one in just a week…”</i><br/><br/><i>“Gruesome too, I heard.”</i>Her gentleman friend responded in a dramatic whisper. There was a quiet murmur of ascent from the small gathering of people around one of the market stalls.<br/><br/>Belle pulled the faded, gray hood further over her face as her overly bright turquoise eyes darted about. Each whisper was another thorn worming its way under her skin, causing her to jump at shadows as she scurried through the small village. She had prayed that coming to the place filled with people would keep the beast at bay but it had, as she feared failed miserably. The monster still stalked her endlessly, massacring any who reached out to assist her.<br/><br/>The violent image of the farmer and his wife flashed through her memories; their broken, torn bodies on the scrubbed wooden floor of their tiny little farmhouse. They had been the first near Chansons-Du-Crepuscule to offer the wayward young woman help. A bitter cold had rolled over the hills and forests of France and Belle had stumbled into their farmyard with nothing but the clothes on her back stammering about a monster.<br/><br/>The kindly husband and wife took her in, gave her clean clothing, fed her and gave her a warm place to sleep through the night. The farmer’s compassionate wife even helped Belle cut her mangled chestnut hair. It had been ruined by running through the forests, tangled with twigs, mud and what looked suspiciously like blood. Belle had been sad to see her long locks chopped off but the woman did an excellent job, giving Belle a whole new look. Her brown hair now stood in soft spikes about her face. Belle had found herself relaxing in their gentle company, even smiling shyly at their incredible kindness.<br/><br/>The very next morning Belle awoke to find them, dead like so many before them. Like so many of the people in her own village. The wife was mercifully untouched, nothing more than a broken neck but the Beast had clearly taken its time with the farmer. His body meticulously quartered and torn, each limb (not so cleanly) separated from the body, the look of horror on his kind face evidence of how long he lived into the torturous event. After that the Beast had cracked his ribcage open as if he were a well done chicken and plucked the heart from the cavity just like all the victims before. There was blood splattered across the walls and kitchen, still a deep, wet red the sheer amount keeping it from drying before morning.<br/><br/>Belle had stared in a daze at the horrific scene, she no longer got sick upon seeing the gruesome kills Beast left but she could feel the sobs already clawing their way to the surface. Feeling a stab of guilt, she quickly gathered up what valuables she could. The couple had a meager savings they had hidden under the mattress which she stuffed into her dress before fleeing the property. She grew increasingly hysterical, finally sinking to her knees just inside one of the shaded alleyways of the village and letting the tears flow free. It was just too much to bear any longer, she occasionally wondered if she should stop running, simply let the Beast catch her but something always kept her moving and the Beast always followed.<br/><br/>It was several days later, and several murders later when Belle decided to flee the village before they too sought her head as her own people had. With so many murders it was likely Gaston would not be far behind her. He was almost as dogged as the Beast in hunting her and sometimes she wondered which was worse. Pulling the gray cloak tighter against the chilly wind, Belle slunk into the thick forest that met the edge of the village never realizing she was walking into the domain of another dangerous beast.