Belle Marie Cygne ⚜ "Rose" (
beheld_beauty) wrote2013-03-13 02:22 pm
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mon ami
Not much happens at the castle. It's the two of them and the magic. She studies. He wanders around. He's not very careful about standing behind things - he does when he remembers and there is something nearby, but it's plain that nothing about being visible in the less-than-fluffy nude bothers Beast except on her behalf.
Finally she excises an hour of study time to spend on being able to look at him without intervening furniture or flinching. She finds it's possible to do this in her mindscape, without having to use a notebook. She can zoom in deep into a rose petal, find a level of detail beyond which there are no patterns, and write, directly there. This isn't an ideal memory aid - if she looks later the words aren't exactly the same - but it's much faster for sheer processing, and the chosen modifications morph into the structure of the rose without special effort as soon as she's sure she wants them.
She behaves with more equanimity about his nudity after that. "You can stop trying to remember to hide behind things," she tells him.
Finally she excises an hour of study time to spend on being able to look at him without intervening furniture or flinching. She finds it's possible to do this in her mindscape, without having to use a notebook. She can zoom in deep into a rose petal, find a level of detail beyond which there are no patterns, and write, directly there. This isn't an ideal memory aid - if she looks later the words aren't exactly the same - but it's much faster for sheer processing, and the chosen modifications morph into the structure of the rose without special effort as soon as she's sure she wants them.
She behaves with more equanimity about his nudity after that. "You can stop trying to remember to hide behind things," she tells him.
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"I'm sorry," he says ruefully.
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And he curls up on the floor by her chair and leans his head on her knee.
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Time passes. Belle continues her magical studies. The Beast continues to read when he can and snuggle when he can't.
A few days after Belle makes herself comfortable with his true form, a storm blows up and soaks the gardens with driving rain. The Beast, of course, dashes out almost immediately to play in it.
In less than an hour, he's back inside, soaking wet and slightly muddy, with twigs and brambles tangled in his mane. If she looks, she will find him on the kitchen floor, trying and failing to brush out his fur and laughing all the while.
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(He doesn't - mostly he smells like rained-on roses.)
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"I always get it right in the end, but it sometimes takes a few days." With a flash of a grin, "Worth it anyway. I love the rain."
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"Storms like this one... they're big and powerful, but they don't think, they just are. I like that. I think it's beautiful." Smiling, "It's fun to get all messy, too, even if I pay for it afterward."
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"Becaaaaaause," he says lazily, "I'm not any of those people."
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