The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Greytrail on 26-04-2013, 12:11:14</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>26-04-2013, 12:11:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Trees whipped by in a blur, as though the forest itself were alive. Wet with sweat, snow and saliva, he persisted with churning muscles and sheer hate. This time he would get the alpha, the one who had been taunting him for three winters now. Today, the big male would die on his claws, his blood staining the pristine forest crimson and gory. Breath like a blacksmith's great bellows painted the air white as he followed the carpet of paw prints, his vision red with fury. So close now, so close. Soon, the pack would no longer come to his lands and destroy what was his. <br><br>But it was not to be.<br><br>Again.<br><br>There was a new smell on the wind, and he skidded to a snow-slewing stop, rigid with alertness and no small amount of alarm. Shaking out his lush, bear-like fur, he concentrated, instinct and intellect a discordant symphony in his mind. Was that...? What that the man? Had he actually returned? And with no delay, as he had promised. Stunned, Adam forgot the wolves completely and began loping back the way he had come, but veering off to the west slightly. There was a road there, ancient beyond most people's reckoning. It only fought the forces of nature and change due to the brilliance of her builders and the old, old magics that still permeated this land. Adam too was bound to this land, every disturbance like a burr in his fur, a flea in his ear, a thorn in his paw. <br><br>In short order, he crouched atop a knoll and watched with alert blue eyes the stately progression of the big horse he remembered for little else than the gelding had not panicked at his disconcerting presence. He drew a wagon with a bulky load lashed in its bed, thick with fallen snow. Burning with curiosity and the need to drive everyone and everything foreign from what was his, Adam paced the hill for long moment, growling harshly, his own hot breath obscuring his vision.<br><br>He had made a deal with the merchant inventor, and despite everything, he was still a man of his word. Scoffing at the thought, irritated to be trapped in the deal-- really what had he been thinking-- Adam turned tail and loped for home in great, distance-eating strides. The weak humans would not enter the soul of his domain without his protective presence there. If he had any sense at all, he would just kill them both and be done with it. How long before the shrewd old man took it upon himself to whip his fellows up over beer and commiseration? How long before they came with fire and axes and death?<br><br>"Let them try," he snarled as the great, steep hill that was the heart of this lands, rose over all the terrain about it. Only the ancient trees rose higher, a living wall around the hill and the narrow but deep moat-like lake that surrounded it. Some great force had torn away half of the hill that jutted from the waters, peeled it away as an axe would split firewood. The shorn half had been shaped into a narrow bridge, hemmed in with heavy stone walls and easily defended. Built right into the flat face of the split hill was an imposing edifice of worked stone, an ancient and regal castle Adam barely noted any more. It was a dark, brooding structure, much like its master, its colors echoing forest and water as an animal would blend into its surroundings for protection. This was no mere castle. It was a fortress.<br><br>The wagon would arrive soon and Adam would need to be ready. Charging into the old stables, he waved away the rickety farm tools, violently shaking out his fur before stripping his pants and burrowing through the massive pile of straw gathered for his use. Resting for only a moment within the fragrant pile, he began catching his breath before trotting over to let the garden rake quickly remove the clinging straw from his heavy pelt. Normally, Adam enjoyed the sensation, but was too distracted today.<br><br>The man had come back! It still stunned the Beast. Even having kept the man's valuables, Adam hadn't been convinced that the man would return. A glance into the nearby carriage house confirmed that the strange device the horse had been pulling was exactly as it had been left when Adam tore the straps loose while the gelding dancing and flailed big hooves at him. Entering the winter-cold castle, he raced to his chambers for pants and strangely found himself eyeing the few articles of clothing meant for his great body. How many winters had passed while they languished, unused? Irritated with such weak, human trappings, he nonetheless pulled out a great, crimson cloak of a fabric so fine that it still felt new after so many years. Clipping the ancient golden broach of his long-dead house at his throat, Adam squirmed under the odd feel of it on his back and shoulders.<br><br>"Cogsworth," he roared even as the small clock hopped into the doorway to his chambers. Its almost lifelike face regarded its master impassively. The tools of the castle had been brought to life by his curse to tend to him and the enchanted structure: brooms and cutlery and swords and sofas, nearly everything but the stone itself and oddly, nothing in the great library. But there were a handful of the tools like this one, a bit more than just dumb tools with their endless tasks. Some had interacted with Adam for so long, they had become more than the original curse of false life.<br><br>"Master?"<br><br>"The inventor has returned. Bring that locket of his to the entry hall and alert the armor to be on alert for treachery."<br><br>"Of course, Master."<br><br>Strangers! Strangers, here, in the heart of what was his! Still edgy from his failed hunt and now this unknown, Adam paced like a caged animal, feeling the uncharacteristic urge to smash anything he could get his great hands on. But he had moved on from childish outbursts of that nature, though the scars of his past violence still lingered beneath rug and tapestry. Stalking to his balcony, heedless of the blowing snow, he peered down, seeing the dark bulk of horse and wagon hesitate at the well-fortified gate that led to the walkway over the frozen moat. <br><br>"Wise," he growled, still expecting the small party to turn tail and bolt. No matter to him, for he was as much a part of these lands as the great trees, enormous and timeless. Their small disturbance to his strange, cursed life was a mere ripple in the waters of his existence. Still... a stranger living with him. The deal had been a whim to torture the foolish old man who had dared to come to his doorstep and bring the hated wolves right to Adam's heart! He had spoken of his beautiful daughter, the love of his life and his greatest trial except for the sickness in his beloved wife. Something in the Beast had stirred at the emotion in the fool's voice even as he tore away the locket, heavy and delicate from the thick neck and drove the old man away. In the snow that carpeted the great patio, they had struck the deal. Adam was well aware that... Maurice, that was his name, had fared better in the deal, but Adam had lost nothing, so he did not feel slighted. <br><br>It had been a long time since such... human curiosity had risen above the raw, animalistic nature of his existence and the deal was worth that alone. Some small enchantments on the locket for the wife that lay dying far away, the return of&nbsp; the strange device Adam had stolen. In turn, Maurice's silence about this enchanted place... and his precious Belle.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>26-04-2013, 13:18:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://data.whicdn.com/images/20827116/flbp-women-girls-4_large.jpg)</div><br><hr><br>The brunette was huddled in thick blankets, the cold still bit through the thin carriage though and she had been cold for most of the journey. Belle did not travel with her father much, mainly because she was ill-disposed to the bored monotony of sitting in the same place for vast amounts of time. During the summer she preferred to ride atop the horse, but if she tried that now she had little doubt that it would be her demise. Even swathed as she was in furs, she was cold. During the course of the journey her father had been more quiet than usual, she knew he was angry with her and she could imagine the reason. He did not trust her alone anymore, which meant he needed to bring her with him and leave a stranger to care for her mother.<br><br>A bitter pill to swallow.<br><br>Belle bit back the contrition for the thousandth time, she had apologised profusely but in truth she did not see what great crime she had committed. So what if her prospects for marriage were ruined because of some salacious gossip? No part of her wanted to be married, lest of all to any of the bachelors in town. The thought of festering amongst chickens and children for the rest of her life turned her blood cold. There had to be something else to achieve and if there wasn’t, well then she was going to enjoy what freedom she had whilst it was still hers.<br><br>Hazel eyes glowered at the blanketed horizon determinedly.<br><br>Maurice watched his daughter carefully, his heart was twisted and it was all he could do not to turn the carriage around. This had never been his intention, losing his daughter to save his wife? An impossible choice but what other had he had? If he’d have died out here in the middle of nowhere, Belle and her mother would have been left penniless and both of them would have failed. At least this way they would both be taken care of. Belle would be far away from the temptations she seemed determined to set herself within and Alice, his once beautiful Alice, would stave of death, perhaps even flourish with the Beast’s enchantments. Even remembering the Beast made him falter, his hands had not stopped shaking, though when Belle had enquired as to its cause he simply excused it as nerves. <br><br>A lie, beautiful in its simplicity, he had told his daughter that he needed help for this convention, an assistant to gain more funding for a breakthrough anaesthetic he was researching. Something that would allow the careful control of numbing a person’s entire body, a fantastic idea but it was nowhere near completion. Maurice had lied to his daughter to lure her here, to leave her, his little girl. Blinking back tears from his watery blue eyes he was glad she was so fixated on their surroundings. Belle hadn’t questioned his need of her, he suspected she had drawn her own conclusions after he stumbled on her near disastrous encounter with Gaston. A hero he might well be but he was the scourge of gentleman’s daughters the town over. Maurice had been a seething mass of rage until Gaston confided that he’d proposed to Belle several times and the brunette, <em>who was fast sailing past the age of eligibility,</em> had declined <em>every </em>time.<br><br>This was when Maurice was finally informed of his daughter’s reputation.<br><br>It had stung and he wouldn’t lie, coloured how he looked at his <em>‘little girl</em>’. The shame and horror had led him to seek help, but this was not what he envisioned. Or <em>planned</em>. <br><br>“Can we not find somewhere to stay Papa?” her voice broke the silence with enough of a start to make him jump, Maurice glanced around and he could see the incline of the mountain in front of them. He kept his attention on the road and adjusted some levers on the steering device he had manufactured, a crude instrument designed to allow him stretches inside the carriage to prolong traveling time and prevent hypothermia. The horse didn’t like it. <br><br>“With the snow the way it is, we best prevail lest we get stranded. It is not much farther.” She didn’t speak again and Maurice was once more left with his guilt. The problem at its fundamental cause was that his daughter was beautiful, he was not blind and he could see every bit of her mother’s beauty in the girl magnified by ten. Nevertheless, there was a tenacity behind those eyes that he worried might never be tamed. His simple wish was for her to marry a nice man and be looked after, to be <em>happy</em>, it’s all he wanted for her. Yet it was his job as her father to ensure she did not bring herself to ruin.<br><br><em>So you’ll hand her over to a monster to alleviate your responsibility and save your wife and reputation.</em><br><br>Ruthlessly he silenced his conscience and the journey pressed on. <br><br><hr><br>Belle was thinking, there was a scarcely a time when she wasn’t, however even with her extensive knowledge of geography and rough calculations of their speed and time elapsed she couldn’t pinpoint where they were. Never before had she seen these forests and though they had been travelling for the better part of six days, she did not believe it was outside the realm of what she knew. It confused her and though she ached for answers, her father had already made it clear he was not in a mood to indulge her insatiable appetite to know everything.<br><br>He rarely was.<br><br>It was why she was forced to focus her attentions upon men who would happily part with information with just the right application of attention. Something the seventeen year old had become a master in. It worked; whilst men were distracted by her looks they guarded their tongues less around her. She knew more about the politics outside of the town than she could ever hope to imagine, understood equations and calculations that many couldn't hope to fathom. It didn’t hurt that she enjoyed the attention either; a half smile crept across her cold-paled lips.<br><br>When they stopped she remained quiet, <em>thinking </em>but also intently watching her father open the rusted frozen metal gates that loomed above them menacingly. <br><br>It was then she realised that they were about to be crossing a bridge, pushing the furs off her she stood up in order to get a better look. The brittle windows were marred with ice crystals and with a glance at her father, who was now watching her intently, she wrapped a fur badly moth-eaten cloak around her shoulders. Then taking advantage of the horses cautiously slow speed and trepidation she opened the door and hopped off, ignoring the insistent protests of her father. The cold was even more biting out here, but it was exhilarating. A stark contrast to the numb stillness inside the carriage, the wind whipping at her dark curls, at her pale skin. <br><br>Vertigo hit her the second she peered over the steep sides of the stone bridge, her fingers traced the frozen rock and she followed the shapes in awe to the ghost of a bastion in the mountain. This certainly did not look like the bustling conventions her father usually travelled too, but it was beautiful and haunting all the same. Questions, so many <em>questions</em>. How had they managed to carve the rock so seamlessly, no breaks, no cracks, almost like the stone had formed this way naturally? But that was <em>impossible</em>. <br><br><em>Where were they?<br><br>Why were they here?<br><br>Did anybody live in that castle?<br><br>Was the bridge safe?</em><br><br>The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she pulled the cloak tighter around herself, staring through the flurries of snow to the frozen black water beneath. Overwhelmed by the intense sense of foreboding she yelped when she felt a strong grip on her arm,<br><br>“Get back inside the carriage Belle, before you freeze.”<br><br>“Are we going to the castle?” But her question was ignored; she stood still for a moment before climbing back into the rickety thing with a sigh. Of course they were, why else would he have opened the gates? What confused her more than anything was the fact that her father had seemingly been here before. And for a man who told her all of his tales in great detail and with excitement, she was rather hurt that he had not told her of this place.<br><br>When they came to the end of the bridge, on the precipice of stepping through the stone arch and into the courtyard the horse faltered and would go no further. With no other options Belle climbed back out of the carriage and went to soothe the animal, long fingers stroking along his flank until she came level with his face. Pressing her nose against the flat plane between his eyes she sighed, <br><br>“Come on Phillipe, it’s <em>just </em>a castle.” Her father had followed her out but instead of trying to urge the horse on, he took a few tentative steps and placed himself between the courtyard and his daughter. He had made a mistake; he could feel it in his blood. He could not leave her here, should never have brought her.<br><br>“We should turn him around Belle, we must not stay here, get back inside.”<br><br>“All this way and you’re ushering us away without so much as looking?” Belle was indignant, her curiosity longed to explore this place.<br><br>“<em>Now </em>Belle. <em>Quickly</em>.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>27-04-2013, 06:45:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Deceiver," Adam snarled, not surprised in the least by the deception. Mere humans were such frail, deceitful creatures. Claws hissing like living things against the scarred stone, the Beast was a whirlwind of motion, a streak of brown and crimson through the dim of the castle's coldness. The massive front door opened to allow him to explode into the drifting snow. It was coming down hard now, blanketing the truth of him and his monstrous form. <br><br>"Run, Belle!"<br><br>With a satisfying clang, the imposing gates crashed shut and Adam was on Maurice, pinning the fat fool to the flagstones. "You would be stupid enough to turn on me? On my own doorstep?" His voice was low, as threatening as distant thunder... or gunfire. One massive hand twisted the heavy tunic, the fabric renting around his claws, Maurice's breath constricted and panicked. "Consider yourself lucky I do not kill you on principle."<br><br>Like breath or thought, he leapt away, impacting against the rickety wagon hard enough to set the gelding to dancing and screaming in fright. A note of startled, feminine alarm was muffled by the now heavy snow. Without thinking, he unclipped his cloak to toss it over the wriggling lump that must be the daughter then. The thing was so big she would have trouble finding her way out of it, but it would keep the snow from her as well. Grabbing the great horse's halter, Adam effortlessly wrenched the big head around so the gelding could not kick, and clawed away the tethers to the wagon. Growling as the horse fought him, Adam forced himself to not hurt the animal, knowing it was the only thing that would remove this old fool from his lands.<br><br>"Bring the wagon!" He roared and a quartet of sawhorses clattered their wooden legs against the flagstones as they struggled to bring the inventor's strange machine. "Out the gate with it."<br><br>"No! No, I can't! Please, you mustn't!"<br><br>Tossing Maurice past the open gate behind his invention, the Beast allowed the sawhorses back in before slapping the reins into the man's hand. "She is no longer your concern! Do not return here or I will not be merciful."<br><br>The gate echoed with finality behind him.<br><br>Grabbing the forks of the wagon, Adam jerked hard at them, once again making the girl squawk, and dragged the entire thing past the enormous door which whooshed shut with a 'boom' of finality.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>27-04-2013, 10:34:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A lot of things happened in a very short space of time, Belle was confused and frightened, two emotions that she was not at all comfortable being. Her back had been to the great doors and the snow was so thick she could scarcely see even if she turned, instead she heard the roar of the voice and the blur of her father being pinned by something black and ominous. <br><br>“<em>Papa</em>!”<br><br>Belle yelled, what else was she to do in the face of something so large taking down her father? The horse reared and she was thrown back into the carriage that she had only half climbed into, the thick furs. The brunette had barely untangled her legs from her skirts before she was covered in something thick and impossibly heavy.<br><br>For a long moment she stayed still, until she realised that it was a blanket? It took her too long to find the edges and her fingers caught on something sharp, she hissed in pain as the fastening tore her skin. Not a blanket? A cloak? But what could possibly require something so big. The scent that surrounded her was completely alien and she couldn’t place it, a musk that though not unfamiliar was nothing like she had encountered before. She was too cold, she was trembling, the snow had clung to her dress and was melting on her skirts. <br><br>It had to be the cold that was causing her to shake so violently. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered something her father had imparted onto her about adrenaline but in such circumstances she failed to make the connection. By the time her body co-ordinated enough to pull herself free of the heavy material, Belle clambered to the door at the same time it was hitched up and she was thrown backwards again. <br><br>The carriage was dragged by what she could only assume was a very terrified Philippe. Sitting up she remained silent until a thunderous bang made her half jump out of her skin. Then nothing. No movement, no sound. Belle didn’t move, barely dared to breathe for a long moment. When she did finally move she peered out the windows, inside? She was inside? Inspecting the cloak further, more importantly the fastening she turned the emblem over in her trembling fingers for a moment.<br><br>Belle was cold and scared, but more importantly she had no idea whether her father and horse were okay. So taking a steadying breath she pushed the carriage door open and slid out. Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the change in light. The hood of her cloak was stuff up, obscuring her face in shadows but also affording her some ghost of security. <br><br>She was inside the castle, she was alone and she had absolutely no idea where she actually was. The situation was <em>not </em>looking fantastic. <br><br>There was no horse attached to the front of the wagon and so she had no idea what or who had managed to move the thing inside? Swallowing thickly she bit her lip and forced herself to take some slow steps towards the front. <br><br>“Hello?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>27-04-2013, 22:34:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"There is a fire in the study," Adam spoke, his deep voice carrying over the cavernous hall, the space dim during any time of the year, but particularly the dreary winter. "The servants will move your things."<br><br>The civility felt strange, like an ill-fitting formal suit. Faint memories of the young man he had once been passed through his mind like snippets of a fever dream, irritating him. He was no longer that foolish boy. He would never be that foolish boy again.<br><br>She was average height and slender, her movements as wary as any doe of the forest. Rich locks of dark hair tumbled from the hood of her cloak to draw his eye over her form, only hints of what she must look like showing beneath the bulk of the cloak.<br><br>Really, he was an idiot. Nothing good could come of this. Yet, some part of him wearied of this lonely existence, even as he still fought the truth of his only hope of escape. Even after all this time, he was quite certain that he could not do it...<br><br>"Really, sir," Cogsworth chided him mildly, making Adam blink. There were some days the very... realness of some of his false companions baffled him. Had he just been critiqued by his hall clock? Again?<br><br>"That's the last time I give you a name," the Beast complained with a grumble and was completely ignored as the knee-high clock clicked and clacked towards the girl.<br><br>"Welcome, milady," Cogsworth intoned in his snooty, ponderous accent and sketched a perfect bow, utterly ignoring her startled reaction. "My name is Cogsworth. I fill the role of butler in this grand hall. Perhaps if you would come warm yourself at the fire?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>27-04-2013, 23:16:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There were many things that Belle could be accused of, but being rude or slow were certainly not on that rather extensive list. <em>Yes</em>, she faltered slightly when a clock, <em>an actual ticking clock</em>, strutted up to her and made a rather impressive facsimile of a bow. Nonetheless she closed her mouth quickly and attempted to keep the shock and skeptism out of her eyes. This <em>couldn’t </em>be real, surely she’d hit her head during the trauma and was hallucinating. Or perhaps she’d fallen asleep on the journey and this was all a bizarre dream.<br><br>Except the pain in her hand, where she’d torn her skin on the fastening of the enormous cloak stung in an all too real sort of way. And that voice, that deep half growl that resonated through her ears and made the hairs on her body stand on end, <em>that </em>could not be her imagination. For her imagination could not conjure something so absolutely attuned to terrify her. <br><br>A<em> fire</em>?<br><br>Was it cold?<br><br>Belle was numb.<br><br>Brushing the hood back from her face she bowed her head towards the clock in a show of politeness, when all else failed her Belle would fall back on manners. So far in her seventeen years she had learnt that no harm could come from being polite. Surely that rung true even when her mind was so obviously falling away from her and she was greeting a clock.<br><br>“Thank you” again her façade wavered for a fraction of a second before she forced her voice to remain calm, “that’s very kind. But I would much rather know where my father is?” However by the end of the question her eyes had quite obviously left the strange clock and were peering further into the house, straining against the dim light, large brown eyes betraying her fear, but also her stubborn determination to keep her composure. <br><br>Every single instinct in her body told her to turn and run as fast and far as she came, but eyes fighting to give form to the enormous shadow already interpreted that she would likely not get far. Her brain was putting pieces of the puzzle together; her father had known where this place was. Her father had brought her here, only to urge her away. It was a strange turn of events, but for all her worldliness no part of her could yet conclude or even suspect that the old man had planned to leave her here. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>29-04-2013, 17:07:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Something did not add up. Surely that old fool had told the child some of what to expect here? Then again, he had traded her away like cattle...<br><br>Nostrils flared, the Beast paced quietly at the edge of the room, silent as a shadow, as the girl spoke politely to the bossy clock. He heard the tremor in her voice, covered quickly, saw the white fear in her eyes and expression, no matter that she tried so hard to disguise it. Growling softly, hackles raised, Adam seriously considered racing after that fat fool and killing him on principle. He should have been man enough to explain...<br><br>His own guilt gnawed at him for his role in this disaster. Then he smelled the blood and it stopped him short. The girl was hurt. Without thinking, he paced out of the darkness, just out of the edge of her vision and grabbed the hand she was clearly favoring. Growling with displeasure, he yanked her nearly off of her feet, gathering her up like a sack of potatoes when she did not move with the speed he demanded. With his thick arm around her and her skull in his great, clawed hand, he knew he'd been spared a few more moments before the true impact of her shock would be his to deal with.<br><br>Really should have killed that man when he'd brought the wolves to the gates of the castle...<br><br>Ignoring the girl's struggles and protests, the Beast snarled and give her a squeeze that made her squeak like the forest creatures he would hunt periodically for sport and sustenance. "Enough! Your father," his anger and disdain was a spit of displeasure on that word, "is a fool. Since he has clearly has left you with no knowledge of your new fortunes."<br><br>Still restraining her struggles, Adam looked at the gouge. Painful, but harmless. Wanting a better look at the wound, he lapped his rough tongue over the flaw, startled at the sweet taste of her skin.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>30-04-2013, 20:17:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The yelp as she was winched into the strong arms of something enormous and dark was instinctive enough that she wouldn’t have be able to stop herself even if she’d tried. The voice, the one she had heard not long ago and still hoped so desperately was not real, spoke again and Belle pinched her lips shut lest she scream and never stop. The musk that she had smelled on the cloak was stronger now and she had no doubts that the thing from outside and the one holding her were one in the same.<br><br>Belle would not believe her father was a fool, scared and angry with the old man as she was, the Beast talking ill of him made her blood boil. For all his sins she loved him dearly and didn’t believe for one second he would have willingly thrust her into this situation. Whatever situation it was. She twisted around enough to make out the sight of enormous claws, but beyond teeth fur and horns she could scarcely see.<br><br>Then the tongue lapped out against the skin of her hand, it stung and she hissed in a breath. The only thing she could really note coherently was that his tongue was smooth like that of a dog, she’d imagined it would be rough. Her head swam with the realisation that this animal, this monster might actually eat her. Swallowing back the taste of vomit she forced herself to find her voice, even though it did sound more than a little shaky now.<br><br>“Perhaps you may tell me of my new fortunes instead?”<br><br>Even though she was beginning to feel she would rather not know. <br><br>Belle wanted to go home. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>02-05-2013, 06:38:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"You are mine now," Adam growled, annoyed with the whole situation, but unwilling to back down. "This is your home now, so get used to it. Cogsworth!"<br><br>The clock looked at him with its impassive face. "Master?"<br><br>"Bring me hot water and clean rags. The girl will need her wound tended to."<br><br>While the clock did as ordered, the Beast sighed irritably and shoved the girl roughly into his giant chair, worn to his great body over more years than any mere human could count. Now would begin the crying and screaming and carrying on, further making him regret not just saving her father, but actively helping the man. He knew better than to get involved in matters outside of his forest, for no good would come of it. <br><br>Barely able to contain his frustration at this insanity, Adam paced the small room, waiting for the inevitable. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>02-05-2013, 10:42:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The chair was enormous, it almost swallowed her whole, but it wasn’t altogether uncomfortable. The order had taken her aback, from the rough lick to suddenly tending her wounds? Her head was spinning in a hundred different directions, confused and numb with shock. But that one detail stood out in her mind, stark and obvious. If he was going to kill her, why would he care about a small cut on her hand? Which meant, that whether or not he intended any harm to her in the future, for now she was safe.<br><br>His words replayed in her mind, she was his? Her father had led her to this place to surrender her freedom to a, what, animal? Monster? He paced and her eyes didn’t leave him. A talking wolf? No he was far too big to be a wolf, even the stories she had heard when she was little about werewolves didn’t fit. He was something else. Big and imposing. But articulate, were monsters supposed to be articulate. Certainly if she was to be a meal, he would not have chosen words like ‘<em>home</em>’. Nor would she have to get used to it.<br><br>When she spoke it was clear, as if trying to prove her own articulation against his. Belle did not stand, however remained in the chair. The heat from the enormous fire was actually thawing her out somewhat and she was loath to move no matter the situation. The brunette had not realised how cold she was until she had started to feel her fingers prickle under the heat.<br><br>“If my freedom is forfeit as you say, then I think I have a right to know the terms on the bargain for which I was used as payment.” Belle hated that her father had tricked her into this, in her head she needed to justify his actions with something. If her world was to fall apart then there had to be a reason. And then impertinence, because she knew she shouldn’t ask but she couldn’t wonder anymore and her curiosity got the better of her. “What <em>are </em>you?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>03-05-2013, 17:55:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Cogsworth's wooden footfalls faded away, the Beast sat back on his haunches and eyed the girl. She was startlingly beautiful, with alert, intelligent eyes gone the color of the fire. Her pallor was improving, even in the harsh light and she was no longer shaking so hard. Watching her flex her hands as they thawed made him smirk and cross his arms as he sat beside the fire, preferring the safety of the shadows.<br><br>"Rights?" He scoffed harshly. "You've no rights."<br><br>Yet, some part of him remembered what it was to be a man, to have to deal with other men and women, to learn and compromise. Grumbling harshly, he ran a big hand over his face and tried to remember that he would be spending some time with Belle and things would be much different.<br><br>"Your father," again, he could not help the growl of displeasure, "brought my enemy to my gate, emboldened them on my lands." Fighting with his own feral nature, Adam once more rubbed his coarse, beastly face. "I cannot fathom why I didn't just let the wolves tear him to pieces. They certainly wanted to."<br><br>Crossing his arms, Adam regarded Belle levelly, curious how she might react to his appraising stare.<br><br>"If he had died then, what would have become of your poor mother?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>06-05-2013, 10:25:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Belle faltered for a moment, trying to piece together what he wasn’t saying, trying desperately to make sense of this senseless situation. <br><br>“You saved my father’s life? Thank you.” Her tone was slightly awed, the Beast was certainly aggressive but there were pieces that didn’t fit. She had no rights yet he was clearly going out of her way to make her comfortable, as was proven when eventually the clock-man returned, pushing a bronze trolley with water, rags, bandages and a surplus of other things she couldn’t quite make out in the flickering firelight. Whatever his other intentions he clearly wanted her in one piece.<br><br>Still, she wasn’t going to openly poke at his pride by point these rather glaringly obvious things out. <br><br>There were still many things she didn’t understand, had her father offered her up freely in order to save her own life? He would never have done so if he thought that she would come to harm here surely? She knew the old man well enough to know he loved her and in hindsight she could recognise his pallor and silence on the way as guilt. <br><br>The questions were all at the tip of her tongue to ask him, a bombardment of words that she somehow knew would get her nothing except probably the brunt of his tongue. If he was regretting his choice already then she certainly wasn’t going to provoke further temper on his part without a good reason.<br><br>Then came the comment about her mother, Belle’s eyes met his as he stared at her relentlessly and her dark almond shaped eyes narrowed considerably. <br><br>“You <em>threatened </em>my mother?” Gone was the awed tone and in its place a leveled disgust that she probably should have possessed since the moment she set her eyes on him. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>07-05-2013, 06:47:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Startled at the sudden, vehemently angry accusation, the Beast reared his head back, body defensive. Temper boiling over, he roared, "I <em>saved</em> her! Gave a piece of a possession so priceless no one could understand that sacrifice." Quieting, he paced to and fro before the fire, bristling and snarling. "And for the life of me, I don't know <em>why</em>."<br><br>Her disgust hurt, no matter that he had been expecting it. Weak and pathetic, he had been so enticed by the offer of companionship that he had given up too much. His pride, his isolation, perhaps his grip on his very sanity. It had been so long since he had dealt with strangers it was not unlike speaking a language mostly forgotten.<br><br>Great teeth bared, Adam grabbed a clean rag and sloshed it though the hot water Cogsworth had brought, lunging at the girl until she naturally flinched away. It took an effort to not harm her inadvertently, grabbing her arm to swab the cloth over her injury. He wasn't gentle, but she didn't cry out in pain either, so he must have done something right.<br><br>"There is a salve and bandages," he growled. "These hands will be no help with that task. Stay here and the servants will bring bedding for you. Or find a room, but the castle is very cold. It matters not to me. I go to patrol now."<br><br>Thrusting the clean bandages at Belle, he was gone with a flurry of claws on stone. He could remain there no longer, torn between the man and the beast within.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>08-05-2013, 11:29:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A while past with Belle doing very little, sitting there, holding the bandages and watching the door which the Beast had vanished through. She felt guilty about angering him, but if he was insisting on talking in riddles instead of giving her the full story then surely he could not be surprised when she jumped to conclusions? The fact stood though, he had helped her mother. Which had to be the reason her father had traded her, errant daughter in exchange for the chance to help his wife. The brunette knew she shouldn’t hate him, or be angry, she understood to some degree. However it would be a lie to say she wasn’t hurt by the whole thing.<br><br>She waited a long time before tending her own wounds, half expecting the Beast to come back in another flurry of temper. But the castle remained quiet and the only company around, it appeared, was in the form of the talking clock that waddled in. <br><br>“We have prepared you a room mademoiselle” the clock informed her, her eyes fell on it and she thanked him. Belle couldn’t find the motivation to move from the fire though, not when she was only just starting to feel genuinely warm. Plus, a brave a face as she might put on inside she was hurt, lonely and absolutely terrified. Was her only company truly to be a distorted monster of a creature? Who apparently was every bit as unpleasant to talk to as he was to look at.<br><br>“Is he <em>always </em>like that?”<br><br>Cogsworth froze and looked at her for a long moment before replying,<br><br>“The master is under a lot of stress.”<br><br>“That didn’t answer my question.”<br><br>“Give it time. You both need to adjust?”<br><br>“<em>Both</em>? He’s the one holding me prisoner, what does he have to adjust to?” Belle snapped, it was the first time the edges of her patience had been touched. The clock gave her what could only be described as a condescendingly gentle smile, as if she was missing a big part of the picture, which in fairness she probably was.<br><br>“I’ll have them bring you some tea to warm you up.”<br><br>By the time Mrs Potts wheeled herself in, steaming and ready to pour, Belle was fast asleep curled up in the huge chair. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>10-05-2013, 21:32:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was no sign of the wolves this time, their scent in the wind indistinct. Distracted and full of nervous energy, the Beast cut through his wintry lands like a great shadow. The dens of bears passed through his senses, ignored as they always were. Those creatures were smart enough to avoid Adam, but culled the herds of deer and elk during the warm times. So, he was neutral towards them, unlike their canine peers. The wolves gathered in numbers, hunted him for the wants of his rich territory. Baring his teeth, the Beast felt that old, cold anger as he always did.<br><br>"Maurice!"<br><br>The old man nearly jumped clean out of his skin, the big gelding jumping and shying.<br><br>"Wha... what do you want?!?! Haven't you done enough?"<br><br>Ignoring the agonized voice, Adam grabbed the wagon to halt it and loomed over the man. "You could have at least explained to her, you coward."<br><br>Instantly, Maurice deflated with a sob. "How? That I traded her, my beloved only child, for a chance to save her mother? To save both of our reputations? She's my daughter."<br><br>Uncomfortable with the ragged emotion, a language he barely remembered anymore, Adam pulled the bulky bundle from his back. From it he yanked a great wooly rug that had once been the biggest stag the village had ever seen. Shoving the bag roughly into the man's hands, Adam went to the exhausted gelding, who shied and danced as the huge skin was tossed over his back. Completely startled, the horse stilled as the strange creature who smelled faintly of his favorite person gently lashed the strange blanket around his body and neck. <br><br>Satisfied that he'd helped the animal, Adam looked over to where a very startled Maurice had pulled out the great bearskin from the bag. "Your death from the elements will help no one. There is a small box in the bottom of the sack that contains your wife's locket. Do not toy with it, the enchantment within is delicate. Wearing it should give her strength. Explain to her that your Belle has taken on an... apprenticeship."<br><br>There was almost a note of humor in his tone, utterly baffling the bereaved father. <br><br>"I will keep the wolves busy this night. Make good use of the time. Go."<br><br>It was gruff, but softened. People had once meant something to him, lifetimes ago. Fragments of memory and tiny embers of feeling both warmed and chilled him, sending his great, tireless, cursed self to once more engage his ancient enemy.<br><br>Morning dawned to a great, gutted carcass of a yearling elk calf sprawled in the main hall while the Beast slept the sleep of those reawakened to life in his sanctuary. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>11-05-2013, 13:34:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Belle wasn’t sure how long she slept, but when she woke up she was covered by several thick blankets and the fire was still roaring unhindered in the hearth. That wasn’t a great testament to time however, since she had no doubt the same people who had swathed her in blankets would have no doubt renewed the wood and stoked the flames. Pulling herself up, she revelled in the warmth of the room. So much so, she shrugged off her cloak and left it on the chair with the furs. Stretching out her limbs, she realised that she hadn’t woken up expecting this to be a nightmare or a dream. Which surprised her a little, wasn’t that how you were supposed to feel about horrible situations? Perhaps it was simply because this still felt surreal. Like she wasn’t quite here.<br><br>Then again perhaps it was because Belle’s mind was a very logical place. With a wince she realised that her leg had fallen asleep independently of her and the feeling of red hot needles moved through her muscles every time she moved. Hobbling until it wore off, she looked around the dark room. The fire gave off very little light to the dark reaches and the brunette squinted into the shadowed corners. Were those curtains?<br><br>Moving to the back wall, her fingers touched the thick dense fabric, taking a deep breath and with a hefty tug she managed to pull one to the side. A shower of dust fell onto her head and coughing, she pulled the other back too. The windows stretched up and up and it was only then she realised how high the ceiling was. Crisp morning light illuminated the room, the dust swirling and dancing in the cold light. She doubted this room had seen sunlight in a very long time.<br><br>There were three more windows along the wall and she opened each of the curtains in turn, her arms aching afterwards from the strength required to pull the heavy fabric. The room was now thick with dust, but it looked brighter. The glass was cold and absorbed the cosy heat almost immediately, but at least she could see around now. The tapestries on the walls were old, but hid most of the thick stone well. The fireplace was actually ornate and beautiful and the rug beneath her feet was possibly the most elegant thing she had ever seen. In any other circumstance the history and beauty of this place would have her stupefied. <br><br>She felt a little like a doll come to life in a real house, everything felt far too big and overwhelming, though Belle reasoned that once upon a time this castle was probably home to a small army of servants. Before what? What had happened to them? She traced her fingers over some claw marks in the chair and felt foolish for asking herself. The Beast had happened to them. In no doubt that the rest of the castle would likely be cold, she picked the biggest fur and drew it around her shoulders. Then taking a deep breath to steady her nerves she pulled open the heavy wooden door that led out into the hall.<br><br>And then yelped, so much for subtly, but the half-eaten carcass of a dead animal had certainly not been what she had expected to almost step in. <br><br>“Are you okay mademoiselle?” The clock from last night clicked over to her, his face a picture of worried concern. Belle rolled her eyes, if he expected her to faint at the sight of a dead thing he had quite clearly never been brought up on a farm. <br><br>“I’m fine. You should tell your master that leaving it outside in this weather would do more to preserve it than leaving it laying around inside. It’s not warm, but the meat will still spoil quicker and it seems disrespectful to leave so much meat to waste. There are more than likely people starving in this winter. He’d do to remember that.” Her momentary high-horse moment aside, Belle headed past the animal and into the castle proper.<br><br>“Can I, <em>er</em>, get you anything?”<br><br>“No thank you, I was just going to have a look around-“<br><br>“Breakfast perhaps?”<br><br>Belle paused and turned back to him.<br><br>“I am actually rather hungry…” this seemed to make the clock’s entire day, his face lit up as much as a clock face could. <br><br>“Excellent Mademoiselle, I shall inform the kitchen, if you would like to follow me through to the dining room.”<br><br>Belle smiled as he walked past her and she followed slowly, it wouldn’t hurt to let him show her around a little, get her bearings. Plus her stomach was grumbling for attention. <br><br>“You can call me Belle you know” she insisted to no reply. The clock stopped in front of the large doors and Belle was about to offer to open them when two tall candelabras bent and moved to either of the door handles. Jumping backwards they pulled open the enormous double doors and revealed an enormous room beyond. The teenagers jaw fell open, the fire in there was already roaring, the table fully set with silverware that extended to both ends of the table. She wasn’t sure how many places it set, but everything was enormous and shiny, the curtains were open and the windows were beautiful domes of glass that left swirls and circles of patterns falling into the room beautifully.<br><br>“If you’d like to sit down, I’ll go and inform the kitchen that you would like to eat.”<br><br>Belle chose the seat at the foremost right end of the room, but only because she had wandered down to look at the paintings that adorned the room. There was a piano in the corner, the only thing that was covered in dust, and the ceiling was domed to match the windows. Wood, heavy ornate wallpaper and thick carpeting over beautiful (<em>if dulled slightly with age</em>) parquet floor. The real lure in the room though was the paining that hung over the colossal fireplace. It was of a woman, a man and a young boy. Belle couldn’t help wonder if this had been their home before the Beast.<br><br>Making a point to ask when Cogsworth returned, she pulled the fur tighter around her shoulders and began inspecting the cutlery which was still perfectly shined and not even slightly tarnished. It seemed silly to have the silverware polished whilst the piano was dusty and the drawing room’s curtains hadn’t been opened in, well, she didn’t like to think how long. But who was she to question the inner workings of the castle?<br><br><em>Hah, who was she trying to kid</em>. She’d question Cogsworth about that too when he came back.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>13-05-2013, 10:14:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Waking slowly, Adam blinked and yawned, lethargic with a sensation he barely had a name for.<br><br>Satisfaction.<br><br>Yesterday, he felt useful, accomplished, as though he had contributed something to the world around him. Not been merely a bestial, mythical guardian to be feared and awed. Grunting and growling softly, he stretched leisurely, arching his heavy back and yawning until his eyes watered. Stretching nearly to his full, impressive height, he lovingly stroked clawed fingertips over the innocuous wooden ceiling of his sprawling bed. The pulse of magic within echoed his touch, making him smile. It always reminded him of his duty and purpose, bolstering his spirits should he need it.<br><br>The castle was quiet, but there was a pulse of life to it not felt in so long that the Beast paused, moving with predatory quiet. For a moment, he was enraged with bristling possessiveness, lips pulled away from his wicked teeth. Then, the rumbling growl died in his chest. The girl... the girl was here, in his sanctum. For a moment, he could only sit there in the dimness, once again flummoxed by the changes he'd wrought on himself. Of course the castle felt different, how many generations had passed since anything living had been in these halls besides him?<br><br>When the clatter of metal on metal crashed through the vast stone spaces, he nearly jumped clean off the balcony. The racket turned out to be a full four suits of armor struggling to move the elk carcass and Adam shook his head. "Return to your duties. I have this."<br><br>Grunting under the weight, he shouldered it and limped on three legs to the kitchen, surprised to see the golem staff fluttering about busily. He was going to need to bathe his hunting from his fur...<br><br>"Ah, good morning, Master!" Sang out the maternal voice of the teapot. "Might I interest you in a cup of tea?"<br><br>No matter that he had never enjoyed the stuff, she persisted in asking him anyway. While she was one of the constructs with a distinct personality, she was still a creature of limited magics, obedient and repetitive. Yet, there was a comfort to the familiarity that Adam clung to, going so far as to pat her warm ceramic surface. "No, but thank you, Mrs Potts."<br><br>There was a childish silliness in naming some of the golems, but that too gave him comfort. Now, to deal with cooking all this meat. It wasn't something he would normally bother with, content as he was with his bestial nature and the taste of a raw kill in his mouth. But that was not something his new companion would be comfortable with, of that he had little doubt. Some poking and crashing about the cavernous kitchen found a great shaft of wood and steel in his hands, one end fitted with a heavy gear.<br><br>Now, how to get the big carcass mounted on the pole... Some additional searching found lengths of chain that had Adam humming to himself as he lashed the elk to the pole, doing his best to gather up the grotesquely splayed legs close to the body. It was not a pretty job, but it would suffice. The kitchen implements moved about to bring in wood and stoke a fire in the gigantic cooking hearth, then set to the creaking crank that turned the spit.<br><br>Cooked meat. What a novel and civilized change to his life...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>13-05-2013, 22:29:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Some people were born to be lavished, spoiled, pretty and meant for little else to be admired from afar. Attraction and beauty beyond the comparison of mere, insignificant mortals. They were born to be gravitated around, to find peace and meaning in the adoration lavished upon them, they were nearly always rich and whilst not always successful or respected they were always there. Higher than most because they had it, that special quality that seemed to absorb fulfilment from the requirement they placed upon others. Leaders. Kings. All the sun in their proverbial universes, all with their own hefty gravitational pull. <br><br>Belle, was <em>not </em>one of them.<br><br>Her fork drummed against the ornate table charger with increasing persistency. <br><br>She was bored.<br><br>The brunette was used to working, she relied on nobody and was in turn relied upon by many. There was nary a moment she had to herself where she was not cleaning, cooking, fetching, carrying, boiling, scrubbing, shopping, gardening – the list was as endless as the days. More importantly she liked it that way. It gave her less time to ponder the mundane routine life had thrust upon her, but it also made the moments where she did get so steal to herself, to leaf through a book or let her imagination run wild. They were special moments. Yes, granted some of those free moments were spent in the company of men, but how else was one to learn? She had learnt more in the bed of the Mayor of the small town she called home, than she had in seventeen years of life.<br><br>Knowledge was so much more important than chastity.<br><br>And in her experience, sex was a whole lot better than books.<br><br>Belle placed her fork down with a sigh, she had been waiting for a while now with no word. Waiting for her breakfast, if it was even morning? How long had she slept. How strange that there were no clocks in this place. Sliding out from her seat she wandered down to the door through which the clock-man had disappeared. If it was taking them so long to prepare something, then perhaps she could be of assistance. Maybe whatever was down there, enchanted or human, was too out of practice with fetching anything other than carcasses to the table.<br><br>Somehow she couldn’t imagine the Beast sitting at the table, with a knife and fork, napkin around his neck and an elk on a plate. Yet the bizarre fantasy still danced in her head enough to make her chuckle. For laugh was the only thing she could really do, she was trapped here, with that animal, for who knew how long. If she didn’t laugh she wasn’t sure she’d ever stop crying.<br><br>There were shallow stone steps that led downwards into the vast kitchens, imagining what a pain that would be to carry large courses through she stopped herself when she realised the castle had likely not been designed for the benefit of the help. Her soft shoes on the stone left no sound, but even if they had they would have been masked by the grunts and din going on inside the enormous stone room.<br><br>Belle arched an eyebrow, folded her arms and leaned against the cold stone of the arch.<br><br>The last person she had expected to see was the Beast in the kitchen, would wonders never cease? And cooking meat too? It struck her a moment later that, that was likely for her benefit. She was rude, this was a deal, she was the price of her mother’s life and the Beast was clearly trying at least to show her some comfort. Yet she could not stop feeling sorry for herself.<br><br>“If you’re going to roast that on a spit, you’re going to need to douse the fire else the outside will be charred and the insides too raw. Elk’s are too big for a spit really, then again I doubt many people could force one on. You know, the entire flank is still there, you could get some lovely steaks off that. Pack them with salt and they could last—“ she realised the Beast could probably eat the entire thing in one sitting and she swallowed back her comment without finishing it. The enchanted kitchen staff more or less all turned to her.<br><br>“You shouldn’t be in the kitchen dear-“ a teapot of all things informed her gently, but Belle cut her off.<br><br>“I’m not really one for waiting. Sorry. I got bored. Need any help?”<br><br>“You’re a guest” Mrs Potts intoned, horror evident in her voice, “it wouldn’t do to have a guest help.”<br><br>“Oh so guests aren’t allowed in the kitchen, but huge blood splattered animals-- <em>no offence</em> – are? Has he even washed his paws?” Her tone was gentle, almost teasing and there was the hint of a smile on her lips. Out-dated ideals in an enchanted castle run by a monster. It was rather amusing.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>14-05-2013, 15:11:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Startled by the girl's sudden presence, Adam heard her words about steaks and salt and large carcasses being too much for this sort of cooking. He understood the words, but the context was so... old. Like the ritual of the place settings of fine china and gleaming silver in the dining room, he barely had a context for them any longer. Heavy brows drawn tightly together in his confusion, boyish memories of a life he thought effectively forgotten bubbled to the surface. A life of splendor and excess, a glittering patina papered over the violence and disregard that led him to become... this. His eternal penance to the forest, to be its patchwork guardian beast. Then he really looked at the grotesquely contorted carcass of the once elegant elk yearling, gory and bloodstained, still with dirt ground into its fur. The Beast had long since learned to live like what he was now, an animal with the broken shards of the man within, catching the fleet creatures of the forest that he lorded over with impunity and eating them like the wolves he hated. <br><br>Nauseated suddenly by the corpse, he grabbed it and almost violently wrenched it from its moorings to heave the difficult weight onto the gigantic prep island. There were knives, gleaming and pristine above the washing trough and he carefully grasped the largest one, noting how absurd it looked in his huge hand, like a child grasping an eating dagger with a hilt hardly large enough for two fingers to curl around.<br><br>Really looking at his odd paw-hands, he really saw them for the first time in longer than any mere mortal could understand. Not hands, not paws, but his. Rough and deadly and filthy with the forest and the blood of the prey he relied on to feed his great bulk. Then he looked at the beautiful young woman and was utterly horrified by what he finally saw reflected in her eyes.<br><br>A monster.<br><br>Dropping the knife beside the elk as though it had burned him, Adam backed away, suddenly feeling utterly trapped in this place where civilized people had once cooked elaborate or even simple foods for other civilized people. This was not the place for the likes of him.<br><br>It was Mrs Potts, the construct he would sometimes confess too, desperate to have someone, something, anything to talk to, that spoke up. But even her words were of duty, her role as servant scandalized that their guest would be here, treading in the domain of the menial. They too, were monsters of a sort, common tools given false life to keep this empty tomb neat and tidy for only him.<br><br>"I see the rudeness runs in the family," he heard himself say with a completely mysterious calm. The scattered memories of courtly intrigue perversely enjoyed her reaction to the none to subtle dig.<br><br>Pacing stiffly to the stairs on all four paws, he bristled, head down in unconscious threat. "Move," he snarled, stretching out to pressed his great, horned head to her belly and shove her roughly out of his way. Halfway up the stairs, he paused and rumbled, "I seem to have lost my appetite."<br><br>Mops had left a damp circle where they had cleaned up blood and melted snow from his offering beside the pathetic hulk of the wagon that had brought Belle to him. Completely unsettled, the Beast sat there in the great hall, surrounded by the tomb-like echo of the only home he had ever known, unutterably lonely Huddled onto his haunches, he flicked his brush tail around his feet and struggled for calm. Dealing with a person whose interests were not in line with his own was a skill long rusted away and he would need to remember the game and fast.<br><br>The wagon distracted the intelligent part of him and he crept closer to inspect it. The distraction would give him some mental space to process and he was grateful for that. It was of a manufacture he had never seen before, metal gleaming in strange places and with strange purpose. Where he knew coiled rope and wooden axles held in place by heavy leather, there was smooth iron and stacked flat leaves of the stuff like the pages of a book. Happy for the distraction from his internal torment, he poked a claw at the leaves, startled to watch them flex as he accidentally jostled the wagon. The wheels too, were clad in iron and a strange, flat black material with some give to it, the feel of it not unlike the antlers of the deer and elk, but not hard. Biting at it left only the faintest mark in the matte black substance and it tasted absolutely foul, making him scowl and smack his lips together in effort to hid himself of the tang.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>14-05-2013, 20:46:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Belle had a dilemma, half of her was tempted to go after the Beast, the other half suspected that she would be wise to keep her distance. He had all but shoved her out the way of the door, and though he had been restrained enough not to hut her, she wasn’t at all sure that gentility would last should she push her luck. A grumpy old man was one thing, a grumpy monster that could quite easily rip her apart was probably best to avoid antagonising. Unfortunately, it wasn’t at all in her nature to play it safe and she suspected she might meet her death in this place all because she’d never mastered the art of keeping her mouth shut. Too late to acquire a life skill now though.<br><br>Instead of following him out, she moved to the Elk and picked up the cleaver, surprised at how heavy it was. He had held it as if it were a butter knife, then again he had also lifted the damn elk up as if it were a skinny calf. Long fingers tested her grip on the blade before she took to work in separating meat from bone, gristle from flesh, innards from meat and piled them all up.<br><br>The objects around her were silent as she worked, a ruthless, delicate yet brutal job that probably betrayed what a strong stomach the young woman had. After she had finished, she asked them for things to pack the meat but save for paper and salt they had little. Still it was enough, she eyed the portions as she packed them. Having cut enormous ones for him, and much smaller ones for herself, she wondered if any of these enchanted slaves would know how to cook it. Probably not.<br><br>But at least it made her feel a little more useful.<br><br>“The steaks will need to be slow cooked for a few hours, then fried…”<br><br>“Yes thank you dear, we’re well aware how to cook a meal.” The teapot’s tone was tart and Belle apologised quickly, she hadn’t felt quite so reprimanded so quickly in, well, ever. She almost asked how they would manage to move the meat with no hands, but refrained. It seemed a little rude, instead she washed her hands in the sink, shivering at the icy water from the taps, and left the kitchen. It was only when she left the dining room she realised that she had not actually had any breakfast. <br><br>And also that her dress was now covered in as much blood as the thick fur of the Beast. <br><br>A part of Belle feared she would turn feral locked away in this castle.<br><br>Stepping out of the dining room she glanced around, two enormously ornate staircases spiraled upwards and met at the top, there was a balcony that encircled the large hall. But her attention was drawn upwards where, high above her head was the most beautifully domed, stained glass ceiling she had ever seen. Blanketed with snow, the patterns stood out starkly against the white and she wondered for a horrible minute how strong the glass was to withhold the weight. <br><br>“Upstairs or downstairs….” she pondered for a moment, but figured she may as well finish exploring one floor before getting lost in another.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>16-05-2013, 12:22:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Well, she was certainly no squeamish aristocrat, the Beast noted with some irony as he took in the girl's appearance. Even just seeing her standing there, face turned up to the jewel of a glass ceiling in the great hall, brought back scattered memories of what this place had once been. Lively, crowded, a-hum with conversation and the buzz of life and all of its colors and shades. Perched on the railing of the great landing at the head of the vast steps in the endless shadows of the palace, the creature that had once been the shy heir of this vast holding watched in brooding quiet as this unexpected companion moved with feline quiet through the space.<br><br>"You asked after your fortunes here."<br><br>One did not need to raise his voice too much in the exquisitely designed space, the words carrying with royal precision to what had once been hundreds of ears. Belle froze, her head craning around in an effort to locate where his voice had come from. He did not so much as stir a hair, only his blue eyes and pale brow ridges catching the faintest gleam from the colorful windows far above. There was an odd warm eddy that passed this spot that he habitually used to dry his fur and the railing was pitted from his claws.<br><br>"You are as much as prisoner of the weather as your father's bargain. He made it safely from my forest and both he and the horse seemed in reasonable health."<br><br>Gathering himself, Adam uncoiled in a great leap like the firing of a ballista and landed in a crouch to pace about the girl, head low. When he spoke again, his voice was a throaty whisper, a purring growl as he watched her intently.<br><br>"You asked what I am."<br><br>Posed in profile, he allowed a good long look. With only the scantiest of a loincloth containing his maleness, he was at his most bestial, fur damp and fluffed up in effort to warm him.<br><br>"I am the guardian of this forest, these once violated lands, payment myself, ironically, of a parent's misdeed."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>17-05-2013, 20:54:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Belle abhorred when people spoke without giving her the means to look at them, it was a tactic that implied mistrust, the person out of sight assumed the power because the other was simply to be watched. Some might have perceived a danger in it, of an animal ready to pounce its prey, Belle just interpreted it as rude.<br><br>About to open her mouth to relay this fact, she shut it again when he spoke of her father. There was relief in her twinged with something else, not one thought of hers had ventured as to whether he had made it home safely. There were many perils and she had selfishly not thought of one. Perhaps she was the monster here, for as angry and upset as she was that she had been surrendered a prisoner, how inhuman was it to not so much as worry a little as to the fate of the man who had loved her unconditionally since she was born.<br><br>Hopefully the bitterness would subside and she would be able to think fondly of him again. Understanding his motives was currently not enough to extinguish the betrayal. <br><br>Belle’s thoughts turned to the Beast who had now landed in front of her, his weight absorbed in his paws he’d barely made a sound other than the soft thud of him landing. How effective a hunter he must be when he chose, this animal for which she had no name. He was clean, she could no longer see blood except on her own hands and clothes. Still she kept her eyes on him, taking in the sheer size and impact of him in the large room.<br><br>“So what is to become of me?” She asked, for the first time he seemed willing to actually converse and as bright as her curiosity was about him, her thoughts for her own life were currently greater. “Will I become like the others? An animated object to fetch and carry for you? Am I to be your dinner? Or a trophy, something to ensure my father’s prolonged co-operation? Because if you are intending to keep me in here like a prize with nothing to do but rattle around in this castle bored and purposeless, then I would rather you eat me now and save me the torture. <em>Please</em>.”<br><br>Belle’s hazel stare kept on him unwaveringly, a little afraid to let him from her sight lest he vanish off into the shadows again. He wasn’t the first monster Belle had met, though he was certainly the only one who’s outer appearance had implied that he was one.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>18-05-2013, 07:15:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Eat you?"<br><br>For a long moment, Adam could only sit back on his haunches and blink at her, utterly nonplussed by the accusation. Part of him wanted to rant at her for the sheer, offensive, absurd accusation... but then again... she could only see what was on the outside.<br><br>Rubbing his forehead in an all to human gesture, he shook his heavy head.<br><br>"I will say this only once, Belle. Your life is in no danger here. Truthfully, we will all fight to defend you from peril. That is our duty to each other, and like it or hate it, you are one of us now." A brusquely raised hand stopped the flood of questions as Adam's mind raced. While a part of him wanted to just toss her into the dungeon for some peace, he could not. To protect was ingrained in him, no matter his appearance; the jutting teeth sharp as nails and the heavy horns and the wicked claws. <br><br>"When the weather breaks and you can travel safely, you may go. After all, you are clearly resourceful and dangerous with a blade." He gestured at her appearance and almost smiled. "Whatever motives I may have held, whatever your father might owe me, tormenting you is a fool's errand. And I want nothing from your family but peace; to be left to my task." Shaking off the weak loneliness that clung to him closer than fur and fang, the Beast eyed her with a flat, blue gaze. "In the meantime, I must go to allies and bargain for enough food to keep you healthy for the foreseeable future. In the meantime, have at the meager stores and I hope you will not grow unbearably weary of elk.<br>There is a storm coming that will keep even me from venturing outdoors and time runs short. They will answer what they can." A nod of his head drew her eye to where many of the golems had gathered in the corners and shadows, making them shy away guiltily. He only shook his head affectionately for the quirks of his strange companions of whom he was so fond of.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>18-05-2013, 14:50:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She was safe? As he spoke Belle realised that deep down she had suspected nothing else, how else would she be able to stand here and demand he eat her lest she die of boredom? Granted there had been logical worries within her mind but she was not a dullard, nor did she have a particular wish to die. Clearly the small observations she had made registered with others that her subconscious thought had picked up. This Beast intended her no harm, which should have had her thanking him, blushing and shying away before he changed his mind.<br><br>For this particular brunette however it just made her feel somewhat more on equal footing. <br><br>“Thank you” she tipped her head gently, a polite gesture for she was not impolite. Glancing around at the golems decorating the shadowy corners she wondered how different this castle would look with the right touches. If she was here anyway there was nothing to stop her cleaning the place up. Doing what the enchanted creatures could not. <br><br>Then the brunette shrugged;<br><br>“I am in no rush to leave, for I have nowhere much to go. Back to a father that traded me off for the price of his beloved. I understand it and I do not hate him, but he has what he considered most dear. So as long as you are content to have me, I will stay as long as I am useful.” Her tone was a little more pleading than it ought to have been. Disappearing back to a mediocre life where she would be wed and bred until her dying day could wait as long as it had to, for once Belle was out in the world and there were seemingly endless mysteries to uncover in this stone castle. Even had he not mentioned legends and surrounding lands to which he pledged protection she would have been curious. Now she was desperately fascinated.<br><br>It seemed obtrusive to stand there and question him for hours though, about everything she wanted to ask him, naturally she would ask but he seemed tired and she couldn’t place why. <br><br>“I don’t supposed you have anywhere were I could wash? I fear I rather reek of Elk.” What a pair they would make if anybody happened upon the castle, a blood-covered beauty and her pet.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>19-05-2013, 04:37:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was good to see the speculative amber eyes soften a bit, her body language ease. For once, he'd found the right words to say and that pleased him. <br><br>"My home is your home. Have the run of it, but I would ask that you respect my chambers in the west wing." Seeing the flare of the curiosity that was clearly as much a part of her as breathing, he smirked. "There is little of interest there. Hardly a wardrobe to nose through." <br><br>Thoughtfully, Adam perused his memories of the castle, having no clue how odd the expression was on his beastly mien. "There are many rooms. Take your pick. Whether any have adequate bathing, I've no idea. But there is a tub in the kitchen that would fit you. Just send my companions away for privacy. There is a drain in the floor of the kitchen for easy cleaning of the room, so you may just dump the tub when you finish. The suits of armor are the strongest, but among the less intelligent. And, now, I should go. I will return in two, possibly three days with supplies for winter."<br><br>With a strange bow that actually worked with his four-legged stance, the Beast turned to once more go up the grand stairs in preparation of a very icy journey. If he were very lucky, the weather would hold to merely wintry, not deadly, until he could return here.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>21-05-2013, 13:53:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The first thing Belle did after the Beast excused himself was to head immediately to the kitchens, a couple of the golems anticipated her intent having been listened and wordlessly went about boiling the water for the small tin bath. It was no more grand than what she’d had at home, though she was a little disappointed. This was an old castle and for the first time she genuinely wondered how many years had passed since those people in the portrait had inhabited it. Still as the steamy water filled the tub, so Belle unfastened her dress and slipped it off her shoulders and let it pool at her feet. Something scooped it up as soon as she stepped out of it and she assumed that they intended to clean it. <br><br>As the realisation hit that all her possessions were still in the carriage that her father had been banished in, the thought paled in comparison to how good the hot water felt on her skin. There was no modesty in her nakedness, why would there be? She doubted the Beast would care overly much and the enchanted objects working around her were of no more consequence than ornaments or objects, at least when it came to modesty. Belle remained in the water too long, more water was added to stop it cooling to an uncomfortable level, but when she stepped out finally her fingers and toes were pruned. <br><br>There was an awkward few moments were the servants realised that most of the towels were threadbare and moth-eaten, they daren’t use any of the masters, so in the end Belle was wrapped in a thick blanket to dry. Then ushered in front of the fire in the dining room and supplied with enough warm tea and food that she actually thought she might need to lie down. Letting Cogsworth lead her to her bedroom, she was surprised to find her dress laid out on the bed, washed, dried and looking better than it had since she first made it years ago. Still that fact didn’t urge her towards getting dressed, the large circular room was beautiful.<br><br>The ceiling was high, the walls lined with large windows and the curtains had been opened. She presumed, by the dust still dancing in the light, that it had been done for her benefit. The fire took up the majority of the internal wall and had obviously been burning for some time, what with the surprising heat in the room. In the centre there was a four-poster bed, bigger than any she’d seen, thick with furs, satins and downy pillows. The wardrobes were ornately carved and much taller than she. Also empty, she noted with a disappointed sigh as she closed the one closest to her.<br><br>Instead of snooping further, Belle dropped onto the bed. Still wrapped in the furs and just lay there, staring at the ceiling which seemed impossibly far away. There were cobwebs that had probably been hidden up there for decades in the shadows, now abandoned by the spiders that had fled the new, obtrusive light. Her skin scrawled a little, she’d never liked the little eight legged monsters very much.<br><br>Her plan was to get dressed and explore the room and the castle further, instead when she opened her eyes again it was dark outside and closing the curtains (<em>with another great expenditure of effort</em>) she crawled into the huge bed and decided exploring was probably much better left for another day.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>24-05-2013, 10:19:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Loping through the wintry forest, the Beast kept his senses open for dangers, even as he was painfully aware of his own distraction. Soon even he wouldn't dare to wander so far from home, daring the elements to destroy him. The curse had made him incredibly hardy, but he'd cut it far too close in the past and had no desire to repeat those mistakes. There were already enough scars hiding beneath his fur.<br><br>As darkness closed in, Adam was grateful to finally come to the village. If the old habitation had a name, he could not remember it. Many of these buildings were older than even he, as much a part of the forest as any of the trees and every bit as sturdy. If not for the wisps of smoke rising here and there, most would pass this place right by. This was a strange habitation, a place for a select group of strange, dedicated folk who had long ago made it their purpose to care for the needs he could not. Something in them he could recognize as the forest's own and that kept them safe from the mysterious woods and the dangerous guardian.<br><br>The guardian who pounded urgently on a strangely large door that seemed to lead straight into a lumpy hillside. The elderly man who answered the summons blinked in surprise. "Master? What brings you here so late in the day?"<br><br>"I require your help. And a place out of this cold for a few hours. I need sleep before I race this storm back to the castle."<br><br>"Of course, my lord, come inside."<br><br>They were the ones that refused to leave when the curse sent all others fleeing from the lands that were now the Beast's forest. Shaking the snow from his cloak and fur as best he could, Adam stepped into the cozy underground home, grateful for the heat of the fire nearby. This was the place the eldest of the village lived, a home built to Adam's scale, meant for his irregular visits. Flinging his cloak over a roof strut near the fire to dry as best as it could, Adam held grateful paws towards the flames.<br><br>"I've need of foodstuffs if there is enough to spare. I have a... visitor. For the foreseeable future."<br><br>Nodding, the old man thought for a long moment. "Our harvests were generous this past summer and fall. Only one mouth? I will arrange it. Are there any special requirements?"<br><br>That left the Beast nonplussed and he rubbed his neck. "I didn't think to ask."<br><br>Again nodding, the man gestured to the fire. "Rest yourself, my lord. We will take care of it."<br><br>"Thank you."<br><br>For the first time in longer than he could remember, Adam found himself wondering what the man's name was. He never bothered to ask, for they seemed to be different every time a long period passed while he was sleeping away the time in his castle. Agitated by the thought, and the distant dilemma of his attractive charge, it took some time for Adam's sky eyes to close and rest to overtake his great bulk. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>24-05-2013, 14:35:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In the days of the Beast’s absence, Belle had been making herself busy. When she awoke from her borderline comatose slumber the next morning, she found all of her own dresses laundered and happily stashed away in the drawers and wardrobes of the room. As pretty as they were, they looked positively plain in comparison to the orate gowns in the portraits littered throughout the house. Belle was not a gentlewoman, she was a farm girl, yet here she was, free run of a castle that had to have been made for royalty alone.<br><br>The brunette had exhausted every avenue of enquiry, none of the servants (for to feel less alone in this isolated place she rather imagined them as people than objects) knew much or anything about the life here before. About that prince in the picture and his parents, or anything else of this history. Having to accept that either they did not know, or simply did not wish to tell her, she conceded to keeping her prying to herself.<br><br>In her wake and boredom the castle was looking immaculate, furniture had been moved the entire castle over thanks to the tireless suits of armour that even in their obedient state seemed to sigh under pained strain of Belle’s demands. She didn’t imagine the Beast would much care, but she felt that she had to do something and it was such a shame to let a beautiful place such as this fester in dimness. It was still old and in desperate need of redecoration, refurbishment and love, but at least the last of the cobwebs were chased away now.<br><br>Except for the West Wing. <br><br>Biting back her curiosity for his one request was not an easy one to abide, but since she didn’t much fancy being thrown out into the storm upon his return she tried her best and distracted herself, with, well everything else. The bath had been moved to her room, since she wallowed in the thing every morning and night. It was an indulgence she had never had before, at home baths were in cool water and as quick as possible. Most of her bathing had been done in the creek at the edge of the farm. Though refreshing, the cold waters did not lend themselves too much indulgence. <br><br>However as of yesterday the well that provided the castle with water had frozen and it was all the servants could to do to thaw enough ice and snow to provide her with food. <br><br>Then, oh then, after two days of bossing and cleaning and driving every enchanted object in the house up the wall, Belle had stumbled onto the library. And had quite simply, not left since. Currently she was sitting in the middle of a circle of books, legs tucked up beneath her on a thick rug, wind storms raging outside, the castle could have fallen down around her and she would have not noticed.&nbsp; <br><br>It stopped her thoughts turning to scarier ones, in books she could lose herself, instead of wondering whether the Beast was okay. For if something happened to him and she was forever trapped here, she wasn't sure what would become of her. Lost with nothing more than a few scraps of elk to sustain her, the firewood was dwindling too. If the Beast did not return, she would die whether it was intended by him or not, and it was terribly hard to relax fully in such circumstances. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>25-05-2013, 03:48:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Waiting to see if the weather would break had been a terrible decision. Certainly, he hadn't fought the curious advances of the village woman who had come to him, allowing her to distract him with the rare pleasure that only a woman could provide. That the beautiful face of that infuriating girl would not stay out of his mind was not something Adam was ready to deal with yet... perhaps ever.<br><br>The old man had been forced to wake him, urging the forest protector to wait out the storm, but Adam knew he had to get home. The foodstuffs and protective clothing were lashed to him, causing more delays.<br><br>He should have listened to the villagers, for even the forest couldn't protect him from this storm. <br><br>Last night had been the worst as he'd hunkered down in a hollow beneath heavy shrubbery and the protective trees. The wind had been unmerciful, blasting cold and snow no matter how he huddled beneath the oilskin sacks of supplies. Today he ached with cold, despite the additional layers of furs and woolen felt the village had insisted he don. Next time he visited them, he would have to thank them, for they may have saved his life.<br><br>Or at least his fingers and toes.<br><br>Even his horns ached and wasn't that a disconcerting sensation. His tail had been pressed tight to his groin for this entire trip, protecting his maleness and his abdomen both. He would be thankful if he would ever be able to straighten the appendage again. Plodding along through snow, laden down with supplies and the heavy coverings, barely able to feel his feet, it wasn't hard for them to get the drop on him.<br><br>With an agonized roar, he fell beneath the onslaught of teeth and claws and sheer mass. Attracted to his presence and the foods in his parcels, the wolves had come. Adrenaline blasted through the pain and fatigue and cold and the Beast went at them with everything he had. Yelping and crying, bodies flew and Adam was able to scramble away. Where was he? How close was he to the castle? Panicked, he opened his senses to the tether than tied him to the rose, the living heart of his curse.<br><br>It almost worked.<br><br>Racing along the ridge, Adam was only moments ahead of the pack, fleeing for his life, weighed down by his precious burdens. When two of them flanked him and leapt, he roared out in horror.<br><br>"No!"<br><br>The wolves could not know of the drop below their paws. But they certainly knew now as all three of them plunged through the snowy, freezing air. Enraged, the Beast grabbed the nearest one, ignoring the animal's crazed panic, and used it to break the fall. He had never been so thankful in his very long life for the heavy stone balcony outside of his chambers as they smashed into it was agonizing force. Darkness blurred his vision and he was angry and wry about dying right on his own doorstep.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>25-05-2013, 11:36:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;She wasn’t terribly far from the end of a tome that made her arms ache holding it up, a plate of food sat cold and forgotten on another pile of books and her feet had well and truly gone numb under the weight of her extended sitting. It didn’t matter, her world had condensed down to those few pages. Until that is, she heard a thunderous crash from above, with a wary and instinctive glance to the window she saw dark shapes fall through the stark whiteness of the snow and her eyes widened. Naturally her first instinct was that the old castle was falling apart.<br><br>After a moment of silence, waiting to see if the entire room would fall around her and become her tomb, she gathered her wits and pulled herself to her feet. By the time she had moved towards the door, her movements awkward and somewhat pained as the feeling returned to her legs, she glanced out into the corridor to see if there was any reaction from the servants.<br><br>Except there was nobody to be found. <br><br>Her frown deepened as she pushed her hair back from her face, took a breath and moved through the castle to the main hallway. Looking up at the circular balcony that encircled the room, it didn’t take long to work out that the clatter had come from the west wing. Of course it had. Where else would it come from save the one place she was not allowed to tread? Still without servants or anybody to ask, she was certainly not going to sit like a lamb to the slaughter for whatever was going on.<br><br>So, taking the stairs cautiously and trying to convince herself that it was probably just snowfall from the higher tiers of the roof, there was doubt in her mind. The Beast would likely not be happy with her and for a moment she paused with her hands on the large handle to the door, pulling it open she looked warily at the worn flight of stairs that let upwards yet again. Ominous, it had to be ominous, couldn’t be light, airy and welcoming. Some torn tapestries blew from a breeze that she could feel seeping from above in an icy chill. Belle shivered, but it wasn’t the cold, the adrenaline pouring through her veins made her numb to that. It was fear, sheer undiluted fear.<br><br>Her feet were bare, and he cold stone chilled her thoroughly so much so that she remained on her tip toes so as to lessen her contact with the floor. Once she was finally upstairs she didn’t have much time to take anything in, the broken balcony doors, she froze as the sight of a furry familiar shape. A wolf? The shapes. Had they fallen off the mountain? A pang of sympathy fell through her, but none so much as the relief that the castle was sound save for a few wolf carcases. There was little down that it was dead, impaled on the broken shards of the window as it was, the torn curtain pulled atop it. <br><br>Belle was about to turn around when a bigger shape on the balcony lurched, she leapt back a gasp escaping her mouth, then she realised it was too big to be a wolf. Rushing over to the balcony, having to shield her eyes against the thick snowfall, she saw the beast and all her worries from before flooded back. Ignoring the feel of the broken shards cutting her feet, which were already somewhat numb from the bitter cold, she stepped outside in the snow. Her feet leaving somewhat bloody imprints. <br><br>Placing a hand tentatively on the Beast’s arm she crouched down.<br><br>“Can you move?” Even now her eyes were searching for the ledge he must have leapt from, though she could see nothing in the white haze of the environment. “I can’t move you, if you stay out here you’re going to die.” Her tone wasn’t as panicked as she felt, but it was firm and clear. She didn’t know if he could hear her, if he could move, but she knew without a doubt that if she had to run to summon the suits of armour then it would take too long. “You <em>need </em>to <em>move</em>.” Knowing full well that the only two rooms with fires at the moment were hers and the library, hers was closer. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>26-05-2013, 00:25:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Moaning in pain, he struggled against the clinging darkness at the edge of his eyes, the reek of blood and gore in his mouth and nose, the unbearable cold and lassitude dragging down his massive body like a stone in water. His right arm was completely numb, a lump of broken flesh.<br><br>There was a voice, sweet and feminine, urging him, the thrum of alarm a dark undercurrent beneath her urgent calm. Move? Why would he move? He just needed to rest...<br><br>Then he was jarred by a heat he knew, a visceral jolt from his soul outward. No, he was not to die, not here, perhaps not ever. With a symphony of strenuous and pained noises that were as much man and beast as he was, Adam rose and spat out the blood in his mouth.<br><br>"I hate wolves," he grumbled and only then fully took note of the young woman staring at him with wide eyes in the blowing storm. "Belle?"<br><br>That he had never once spoken her name did not occur to him in that moment. Heavy brows drawing in with confusion, he tilted his head in a dog-like manner.<br><br>"What are you doing out here without a cloak? Come inside before you freeze."<br><br>The right arm lurched nearly out from beneath his weight, but he pulled up with a hiss that covered Belle's echoed pain beside him for the moment. Limping together, the two of them crept into his rooms where at least the wind was less, but the cold like a cave of ice. When he turned to stumble along the wall of windows, she objected, but he knew what had to be done. These chambers would no longer be inhabitable at least until spring when perhaps repairs could be made. There was a portrait there, illuminated by the windows, a handsome man with fair hair and the Beast's sky-blue eyes. Scratches marred the frame, parts of the heavy canvas and oil paint, long dried. With a clumsy, shaking hand, Adam moved the portrait on its hidden hinges and the rosy glow from within flowed over him with the relief only it could cause.<br><br>"I need your help, Belle. I cannot carry it and these chambers must now be sealed off from the elements for the winter."<br><br>Even in his state, he could see that she was in pain, stumbling. With an awkward lunge that laid him flat on the stones, he blocked her fall, her weight across his face and horns. Only then could he see the blood from her bare feet.<br><br>"Sit astride my neck," he said, nosing at her slim body when she made a sound of objection. "I will manage your weight. The rose is more important. Please be careful with it. It is more precious than you can know. I promise you its tale. And mine."<br><br>The additional weight on his right arm nearly made him black out, but he ground his teeth and limped to the small chamber behind the painting. It glowed every shade of red and pink, suspended inside the bell jar by the power of its own great enchantments.<br><br>It would be a relief to tell someone the tale.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>26-05-2013, 20:18:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He was half dead and reprimanding her for not being dressed suitably? Belle was too cold to really put the full amount of disbelief into her gaze as she watched him, he moved off a wolf and she arched an eyebrow. “I think you owe the wolf more gratitude than that.” Considering the state of the crushed creature that had so obviously broken his fall. <br><br>She was entranced as he moved within his room, the portrait was ruined but she had no way of knowing why and in the dull light she couldn’t see much. He pulled it open and she was so transfixed by the glow she stumbled, he caught her and she frowned righting herself. Her feet were aching from cold but she could scarcely feel the cuts. <br><br>“Sit on you?” She replied archly, “you can barely hold yourself up. I will be fine, last time I checked roses weren’t vastly heavy and I wouldn’t have fallen at all if you cleaned this place up more.” She kicked her foot free of the fabric it was caught in and moved to get the rose.<br><br>It was rather enchanting, the way it glowed all its own, Belle had never experienced magic before, instead she thought it mere stories meant to entertain children. Her own interests lay in the truth, in science and even as a child she had been sceptical of the stories her father had weaved of faraway lands. Princes and princesses touched by magic. Happily ever after’s.<br><br>Until she went to pick up the glass, she hadn’t realised how cold her fingers were, they fumbled a little and she almost dropped it. But didn’t. The way he was watching her she may has well been holding a baby, he couldn’t have been more determinedly intent if he tried. <br><br>“I’ve got it, look, safe and sound. Now get downstairs, I’ll fetch it and we can sort out your wounds. And thaw you out. I don’t much fancy being stranded here all by myself if it’s all the same to you.”<br><br>Being a martyr was all well and good, but Belle had always had a problem admitting that sometimes she needed help.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>27-05-2013, 07:18:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Already, being in the immediate proximity of the rose flooded him with warmth, the wonderful and horrible magics working through his great frame. Bones ground as they slipped back into place, making him groan and sink halfway to the floor. "Wait," he hissed through his teeth, his healing, twitching arm reaching beneath his chin to press the girl and her precious cargo to his heavy neck. A harsh bark of agony finally escaped him before the worst was over and he panted in relief. "In all my years, I have never grown used to that."<br><br>The Beast eyed his companion with something almost fond. "You are as stubborn as I." Removing his great hand from her back, he flexed his fingers. "The rose heals me and keeps me alive. So let me help you."<br><br>As hips and legs seemed sound enough, Adam twisted to scoop Belle's slender body up, cradling she and the rose close as he rose to his feet. It was awkward to walk like this, but he could manage.<br><br>"I stayed too long in the village and was caught by the storm. Thank you for coming to see what had happened and getting me moving. The wolves and I go back many generations and I swear they get smarter and smarter as time goes by. They are certainly larger than they once were!"<br><br>Navigating the stairs that led away from his chambers with painstakingly care, Adam paused on the main living level and looked around. The familiar feel of the place had changed, the shadows seeming to have receded.<br><br>It took long, charged moments to figure out what felt different now.<br><br>It felt like someone actually lived here now.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>28-05-2013, 12:49:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Belle couldn’t help but think that it was quite unfair, that the rose healed him and not her. Then again she wasn’t cursed, unless you counted being relegated to a castle under care of a Beast a curse. She did, moderately. “So you’re saying that you could have crawled there yourself, without me shredding my feet and half freezing…..and been fine.” Her tone was more than a little indignant. <br><br>It was a pride thing, the tone, because she felt quite tiny and helpless in her arms and she hated feeling helpless. Her pride was so tightly wound around not being a burden, about being able to take care of herself, that any infringement upon that caused her to bristle quickly. Belle was strong, she didn’t want or need to be the damsel in distress and if her feet weren’t hurting so much, and he didn’t feel so warn against her skin as he held her, she’d fight him every step of the way.<br><br>He paused at the bottom of the stairs, which was when she realised she’d had her eyes scrunched tightly shut. The stairs had been narrow enough for her feet and being suspended entirely and in no control of whether they would all tumble to their doom, she had decided that sight was the best sense to remove. It had been unconscious though, <br><br>“My bedroom had a fire” she said simply, not comprehending why he had stopped. Then she realised, she had changed his castle. Moved everything around, it was probably something she should have asked him about. Belle often forgot manners and protocol, it wasn’t her fault, she was usually just so single-minded on things that needed doing that she failed to associate other people’s reactions with her acts. She cleared her throat, squirming a little in his arms, “I cleaned a little. And, er, moved some things. I hope that’s okay?” To her credit, she managed to sound suitable sheepish. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>29-05-2013, 04:45:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Did you not get me out of the cold? Did I not thank you for that? This is about as hurt as I have ever been and the cold may have been enough to destroy even I. So badger all you want, woman. Thank you anyway."<br><br>Animal instinct fought with human nature and Adam was paralyzed by that for long moments. It had been so impossibly long since anything had changed in his cursed existence, only the trees and the village marking time. The low growl was building softly in his chest when it stopped abruptly.<br><br>He had made this her home too. It was only fair that she be allowed to make her own mark upon this place.<br><br>"It's... it's more... lively."<br><br>He really didn't know what to say, and frankly, he was hurting unbearably and needed a bath in the worst way. "We need to remove the glass shards before you regain all feeling in your feet. Cogsworth!"<br><br>As he walked along the enormous balcony that surrounded most of the great hall, Cogsworth toddled out of the study. "Master?"<br><br>"I need hot water and clean cloths for some wounds. And Lumiere for good light. I would like for our guest to be able to walk again. And then if you will go see if that mineral spring beneath the castle is useable. If it is, a long, warm soak, please, as soon as it can be managed. Use as much wood as is necessary, I will go collect more."<br><br>"Of course."<br><br>"Well then, Belle, which room has become yours then?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>01-06-2013, 19:12:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Lively? <em>Lively</em>? She had spent days slogging to the tune of brightening the place up, cleaning it, her fingers and knees were sore and the only adjective he could come out with was a rather tentative ‘lively’? Her feelings were officially hurt. Belle bristled but remained silent because he skirted the subject by mentioning her feet and irritatingly enough he was right. The thought of the shards being removed when she had full feeling was just too much, occasionally her lovers had accused her of being a bit of a masochist, the ones who hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing just how sadistic she could be when pushed. Still, her pain threshold was still that of a human, and she desperately didn’t want to faint in front of this Beast.<br><br>He’d likely mock her for days.<br><br>Or worse, think that he had some vast mission to protect her laid out in front of him.<br><br>An unbearable thought.<br><br>She listened to his instructions and rolled her eyes, <br><br>“Some alcohol, neat if you have it, preferably spirits though if you have none of those wine would be as good as anything. Perhaps a needle and thread to?” It wasn’t ideal but she had no idea how deeply imbedded the shards were. Infection was the much greater concern, especially as the blood of both Beast and wolf had been all over the glass. Belle was certainly scientifically minded enough to be concerned.<br><br>“And he is most definitely <em>not </em>going back out in this storm, he’ll get himself killed, so ignore him and please go easy on the firewood. Inconvenient as he might find it” she fixed him with a pointed glower “a lukewarm bath is certainly <em>less </em>damaging that freezing to death or tumbling off another mountain.”<br><br>What gave her the authority to over-ride his orders and boss him around?<br><br>Well common sense, <em>of course</em>.<br><br>Cogsworth sort of stood there, looking as conflicted as a clock possibly could.<br><br>“My room is the one with the” huh she hadn’t noticed that before “rose carved into the stone above it. As coincidence would have it. Really, that wasn’t, <em>er</em>, planned.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>03-06-2013, 13:27:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Exasperated, Adam made a note to yell at her when he had the energy. And when she wasn't cradling the very key to his ongoing existence in her arms. Fighting gritting his teeth, Adam deliberately addressed the clock gently. "The bath Cogsworth, thank you. The the alcohol is a good idea. If nothing else, I may need it. And have the armor bring in those hard-won supplies. We will come see what is salvageable soon."<br><br>Feeling Belle's irritation radiate off of her like heat, Adam limped into the rooms indicated and laid her out before the guttering fire and warm embers. Immediately he grabbed the bell jar, cradling it in relief that it remained safe, momentarily lost in its glow before shaking it off. Setting it to the side of the hearth, he moved to collect the bed's pillows, dropping one on her chest and sitting to raise her small feet and stuff others beneath her calves. The fire would warm her quickly and he studied the lacerations in the poor light. <br><br>With a gentle twist, the bell jar loosened from its wooden base and the Beast very carefully took the fragile-looking flower in his great hand. "It can't hurt to try."<br><br>Laying out on his chest, Adam eyed the damage, clamping his strong hand around her ankles while his weak, healing arm twirled the rose tenderly. One caress of the enchanted petals and he smiled smugly. Like shards of ice, the glass dropped to the firmly woven rug as pushed out by Belle's body in rejection. She made an incoherent noise and squirmed in his grip, but he ignored it.<br><br>"If you only bothered to ask questions, we might have the opportunity to explain," he admonished quietly, concentrating on just barely brushing her skin. "You no longer live in the mundane world and it would benefit you to remember that." <br><br>He knew the odd energy she must be feeling, the aching and oddly sensual energy of this enchanted object and the amazing things that it could do. At least it was keeping her quiet for the moment so that he could concentrate. When the kitchen cart rolled in, he accepted a hot, wet cloth and mopped away the blood and allowed Lumiere to bring his wax hands close to Belle's skin so that he could nod with satisfaction over the unblemished soles. Standing wearily, he gathered the bell jar and carefully returned the rose to it. Still awkward on his dog-like feet, he clung to the rose like a lifeline and hobbled out without further word, needing to rest and recover.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Effeari</strong> on <strong>07-06-2013, 17:57:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Belle wished she could disguise the outright awe on her delicate features, but she couldn’t, for she was not that accomplished an actress. Having been raised in a home surrounded and seeped in science, the whispers of old magic had been pitted off as poppycock. Old tales that had no relevance in real life. No place in a world skyrocketing towards scientific wonder and explanation. Medicine was beginning to understand things now, creation that scientists and inventors alike could fashion from ideas within their own mind. There were still seers and fortune tellers scattered around, peddling charms for luck and superstitious nonsense.<br><br>But Belle didn’t believe, she had placed her faith and knowledge in things she could see. Facts, numbers, equations and words. Magic made for beautiful stories but one could easily get swept away in the beauty of the fantasy world if one didn’t keep her feet firmly rooted on the ground.<br><br>The brunette swallowed as she wiggled her toes, there was no pain, nothing of what she expected. Eyes wide, the darted from her foot, to the rose, to the Beast that stood in front of her. Magic. This was magic. Magic was real? Or she was passed out on the balcony and these was all a pretty dream guiding her through a path of delirium so that she might escape the awful truth. Except it couldn’t have been, because Belle could not conceive that magic existed, not in her dreams and not in her wildest imaginings.<br><br>So what had she expected? What had she thought cloaked this castle with its enchanted servants and it’s monstrous master?<br><br>Belle concluded quickly that she was an idiot.<br><br>Science told you never to overlook the practical evidence, to disregard belief and biased and judge on results.<br><br>She had failed. <br><br>And boy did she feel like an idiot because of it. Shooting the Beast a rather sheepish expression, her skin was tingling strangely and she presumed it was the magic. As he made to leave it took her a moment to recover her words;<br><br>“This is the warmest room in the castle, the fire has not been extinguished. You should rest here.”<br><br>The brunette didn’t know whether he had heard her or not, but she felt too genuinely foolish to follow him.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Beastial Price of Beauty (Flickaha and Greytrail)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Greytrail</strong> on <strong>10-06-2013, 00:54:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He could not stay. <br><br>He could not indulge in the foolish, curious want that whispered along his skin and soul. Yet, he hesitated there in the shadows outside of her door; the shadows where he should have remained, the shadows that once granted him safety. Her presence was of the outside world, stripping away his safety and his sanity, making him feel so keenly his stupid, human want, sharped razor-fine by a world changing around him. Soon, myth and superstition and fear would not turn away the world from finding and destroying all he loved. For the forest had demanded much, perhaps too much, but he loved it anyway.<br><br>"I must bathe," he forced himself to say as a civilized man he felt a million leagues from being. "And there are foodstuffs and firewood to be attended to."<br><br>He could not confess to his agony, the shifting bones and screaming nerves and knitting flesh. Yes, the damage done to him was as bad as he had dreaded and, while he knew he would survive, he was feeling very shaken and worn thin. Right now, he needed some peace, a luxury that had been denied him for too long. <br><br>"Master? Are you certain you wish to go into that horrid cave?"<br><br>Cogsworth's snooty distaste actually made him smile, wavering unsteadily on the stairs until he had to sit rather than tumble down them with his precious burden.<br><br>"Is it clean enough for use?"<br><br>Clearly, the clock wanted to object, but finally nodded tightly and whirled on a wooden leg to toddle away huffily. Adam managed to get to the bottom of the massive main stairs and breathed a sigh of relief, noting the strange wagon had been emptied in his absence. And a fire flickered within the library. There were books scattered about in careful chaos and he smiled faintly to himself. Well, at least the girl had found something here to please her. Sobered again, he limped towards the kitchen, but veered into a shadowy hall normally hidden by a discrete door. A long, ramp of a tunnel led away into the earth, switching back and forth as it went deeper. There were chambers that once stored food and cells that once held prisoners, but beyond the rusted iron bars was a special place hidden away. In ancient times, the builders had stumbled across a natural spring, lightly mineralized, that once fed into the horseshoe shaped moat about the castle. Now, with the push of a very old wooden level, a sluice gate would drop into the spring's hidden channels behind the cave wall and the naturally pressurized water would cease flowing upward to the lake and run into one of two basins. The upper one was an ancient copper cauldron which was heating away over the busy fire and the other a large stone pit where cold and hot would soon combine.<br><br>With a great rush of steaming water, the smoothly carved pit would be Adam's haven for now; a place where he could rest and recuperate in peace. A ledge nearby cradled the rose safely so that it was close enough to continue to repair his damaged body and light the room in addition to the fire. Groaning with relief, he stripped off his mangled clothing, the rags of tattered leather from his feet, his ruined cloak, and crept into the ancient tub. This would soak away the grime and gore and glass and then the water could be pumped away to the lake and refilled with clean water. That was all the plan he had until his hungry belly, ignored for nearly two days, would drive him up to the kitchens.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>