beheld_beauty | mon père

Belle probably wouldn't have gone into the forest looking for her father if it weren't for the fact that, were he home, she'd never be allowed.

She understands his concerns. Really she does. If it weren't for the fact that he's the local lawman, she wouldn't even be allowed out into town on her own. She's beautiful (as no one can shut up about for thirty seconds at a stretch; is it any wonder she prefers books?) and while he can protect her in their tiny town, the Witchwood is another matter. People get lost there - sometimes the Wood spits out men and women and children from other villages entirely, near theirs instead, and they have to be given maps and sent the long way around to get home - and anything could happen and he has no jurisdiction over crimes committed there.

But the woods are beautiful, and she's going to bring a blank book to draw a map in, and her father has been missing for four days and even if Belle's only concern were her safety she'd need to find him. Because orphaned seventeen-year-old girls tend to find it in their own best interest to get married, and if she wanted to get married, it would not be to anyone in the village.

He chased in a highwayman (whose crime was not committed in the forest, so all is in its proper order).

The highwayman came out.

Charlie did not.

Charlie, apparently, has gotten lost.

And Belle is going to go in and get him.

---

Her map is wrong.

No - no, she was very careful. She knows people get lost here; she knows the woods are twisty, suspects the landmarks must include duplicates. She brought bits of ribbon to mark her way. She's been changing colors as she gets deeper into the forest, and she's been traveling for almost a day now, and that ribbon right there was tied in the first hour. She's not that turned around; it's broad daylight and she's been tracking the sun. Not even magic, if magic existed, would be able to move the sun.

That leaves her, and the tree. She has been picked up and put back where she started or she has been followed by this tree. Or the ribbon, perhaps, if it's magically untied itself and made exactly the same knot around a different branch. ...No, there is the bit of blood from where she tripped and scraped her hand against the bark of that tree, and blood and ribbon both following her is more of a stretch than her having been transported or the tree having walked on its very roots to heel like a dog.

Damnation.

Well. Most people who wander into the Witchwood are eventually heard from again. But it's getting dark, and she trips more than enough in daylight; she underestimated the treachery of the ground deep in among the trees.

She goes on. She keeps making her map - it's still possible it will be useful for something, and she has precious little else to do while she walks alone through the dimming woods - keeping an eye out for a place to sleep.

She finds one.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

deslandes

The knife stills when she grabs hold of it.

From:

beheld_beauty

And if she lets go, midair...?

From:

deslandes

It puts itself down neatly on the tray.

From:

beheld_beauty

And now her toast is half-buttered. Hmm. She wonders how smart it is. Fairy tales never agree on what magic would do if it existed. She gets to check. "It's okay, go on," she says.

From:

deslandes

The knife resumes buttering her toast.

The teapot tips questioningly toward the partly filled cup, not far enough to pour any more tea into it.

From:

beheld_beauty

"You too," she says, delighted in spite of herself, "it's okay."

From:

deslandes

The teapot lifts itself up and pours and settles back down, all without spilling a drop.

The knife completes its task and puts itself down again, buttery side up so as not to get anything on the tray.

From:

beheld_beauty

"Thank you," Belle says, and she tucks in. Mmm. "Are there any people here or just a lonely magic castle that wants somebody to look after?"

From:

deslandes

No answer from the cutlery.

From:

beheld_beauty

She looks around expectantly at the rest of her room. If the lights know where she is and the dishes understand speech, maybe the rug will tilt its pile into the shape of words, she doesn't know.

From:

deslandes

Nothing.

From:

beheld_beauty

Okay then.

She gets up to check out the rest of the castle.

She brings her map-book. Perhaps the building is more amenable to mapping than the surrounding forest.

She's worried about Charlie, but she doesn't seem to have any way to make progress at finding him, and it's possible that someone who can help her lives here.

From:

deslandes

The interior of the castle is reassuringly consistent. Also, very pretty.

When not leading her around, the lanterns kindle themselves wherever she looks and douse themselves when she leaves a room.

From:

beheld_beauty

Well, this is a nice castle, and it's going spare, unless someone is hiding from her behind that one locked door. (She doesn't pry.) She might just move into it if she can ever find out how to get between it and civilization.

It takes her until lunchtime to explore the whole thing less the single locked room.

From:

deslandes

Shortly after noon, another tray of food comes skittering down the hall.

From:

beheld_beauty

Mmm, lunch.

Belle fills up and then she decides to go out and see if she can make any headway at discerning a pattern in the way the forest steers her.

From:

deslandes

This time it lets her get much farther from the castle before steering her back... but 'much farther' is still only a few minutes' walk.

From:

beheld_beauty

She writes down everything she notices.

It looks random to her.

Finally she lets herself be steered all the way back into the castle to mull over what she's noted down while not trying to take more data. She gets nowhere. She gives up and experiments with talking to the furniture.

From:

deslandes

Requests for things that involve simple movement—'come here', 'go there', 'wiggle if you understand me'—are generally obliged. More abstract queries, or statements that don't involve asking for anything, are ignored.

From:

beheld_beauty

She's still curious about her idea of the rug pile forming words. She writes some words of her own in the carpet: write back if you can understand me.

From:

deslandes

The rug waits for a moment, then wriggles and flattens itself out, providing no words back to her.

From:

beheld_beauty

Hmm. Disappointing.

She makes her way to the locked door. "Will you open up?" she asks, addressing the door politely.

From:

deslandes

It rattles for a moment, then relaxes.

From:

beheld_beauty

Huh.

If there's a person in the castle at all, it's past this door, and it's otherwise so obliging except about letting her get away from it for more than a few minutes at a time. "Excuse me!" she calls. "Can anyone who's not an object hear me?"