Les Bêtes Rose

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  1. [​IMG]
    nce Upon a Time, there was a handsome, affluent, and charming Lord. A man who surprises the rest of the high-class inhabitants of Paris. However, behind the beauty concealed the ugly. The charming Lord Lebeau hid his boor temper behind his pretty face. Rumors whispered that the handsome Lord was abusive towards servants and maidservants - had them killed or beaten if they failed to do their job correctly. Their deceased bodies were buried behind the extravagant estate. Their souls roam around the estate nowadays. Although, despite the horrendous rumors, the beast-like man had a shred of humanity. He had a wife, Briar Blaise. A humble and gentle woman - known as the Care Taker of the Broken. She mended the maidservants and servants injuries and buried the dead ones and held short funerals.

    He spent his younger days in serenity, till one December night. There was a woman who appeared on the Lords doorstep. A fragile and poor woman whose bones were like twigs and skin like paper. Her lips trembled in the cold as she requested the Lord to take her in. He was reluctant at first, but he allowed her to stay a night. He ordered two maidservants to care for the woman till the day after. During the night, one maidservant dropped a pot of hot water. Before the fragile woman could utter a word the Lord came in and strike his hand down at the maidservant. Briar came to comfort the maidservant. The horrendous yelling and tears brought the frail woman to walk away from the scene. By the time the frail woman had her hands on the doorknob Briar pleaded the woman to not utter a word. The frail woman looked into Briar's pale blue eyes with contempt and spoke a language unknown.

    "One day the powerful Lord will be consumed by his untamed anger and allow the beast to engulf his body." By the first sentence, the frail woman gradually grew younger. "Every full moon will engulf the Lords humanaity turning him into the beast he truly is." The frail woman's voice was lucid and full of youth. "...and everything that died within the estate shall act as the chains that keeps him in purgatory." By then the frail woman's face was full of youth and beauty. She had amethyst colored eyes that shined unearthly. When the woman faded into the cold Winter night, Briar was left frightened and confused.

    Three decades later, the Lebeau estate was forgotten and was a simple legend. Myth spoke about a beast that lurked within the forest nearby the estate. Some say it was the cruel Lord that was cursed, others say it was a beast from hell, and more here say.

    It has been years and Lord Lebeau is left in solitude. The loneliness had him itch for affection and love. Each night he lurked nearby the a small town in the outskirts of Paris. The town was lively in the morning and peaceful at night. There he watched a young maiden - a simple girl who lived with her siblings and parents. He watched as each day she would wander around the town. She shared smiles and greetings, with the occasional baked goods her mother would create. Her kindness seduced the Lord.

    By then he decided to snatch the young maiden and love her.

    In the night, he kidnapped the young maiden and locked her up.

    Thus awakens the estate of the beasts murdered servants - the ones that will not rest till the beast have suffered. Once he has loved a love so true that he will succumb to his demise with her.
    The Main Characters
    Supporting Characters
    The Antagonists

    The Prologue
    ❝ He plucked one rose and it all began to die. ❞
    #1 Cain, Oct 7, 2015
    Last edited: Oct 8, 2015
  2. Nicholas Lebeau; The Cursed Beast
    The stark night brought darkness in the castle. The only light being shed was from candles that were spread around every corner of the castle. Within the eerie castle, there were the moans and sickly whispers from the dead. Nicholas could hear it everywhere he wandered. It was all he could hear every night, he wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop.

    Each word whispered into his ear left a superfluous amount of laden weight on his shoulders. The guilt was unbearable. What only made it worse was the memories that entered his mind. He wanted someone to make it all go away. The whispers grew louder as if there was somebody whispering straight into his ear. He mustered all the strength he had and began to pull down curtains, break the vase, with his fists he strikes down at a table. He continued to cause destruction, but the whispers were still loud. The glasses that were thrown down shattered into tiny pieces, tables broken left splinters, and portraits were torn. Nicholas turned to take down another portrait but froze in fear.

    Warm loving eyes stared down at him, he felt her judgement from the grave. "Briar..." His voice broke into pieces and his body trembled. His legs could no longer aid him and broke down. His body collapsed onto the floor. His hands hid the pity on his face. He sobbed softly, "...I'm sorry..." He continued to speak the two words till midnight.

    A soft knock on the grand door brought the tears to stop flowing. He rose gingerly to his feet, still shaken from his break down. "Come in." His voice cold and throaty. The doors turned and a pale woman emerged from the outside. "Lord Nicholas, I came to make sure you have not inflicted pain to yourself." A monotonous tone escaped her cold lips. He looked down at himself to see small cuts. There was blood, but not enough for him to worry about. He took his bloody hands and curled them up into a fist. "No," He walked past Ms. Lovett, "I want to see the mess cleaned up by the time I return." He grab hold of an obsidian cloak and left. Behind him, the doors closed softly, leaving the hallways with a soft echo. The hallways were festooned with dusty ripped drapes, tall slender windows that were shattered or bore cracks, paintings that tore from the harsh winds, and glass and dead flowers festered the crimson carpet.

    Years of calamity spread throughout the castle, except for one room. Though the man would never enter that room. The laden weight on his shoulders will only grow heavier. He walked out of the hallway and met at an intersection, the west and east meet in the middle. The whispers grow faint at the east wing of the castle. The whispers attempted to lure him into another hallway - to entrap him, to torture him, to force him to feel terrible. Nicholas turned away and walked down the grand staircase. Each step he took, he took with prudence.

    It was this time, past midnight where it was serene outside, where the man would lurk nearby a town. The town's serenity brought his heart at ease and emotions to settle. It was where he found himself watching over a young woman. Her kindness was a prepossessing trait that he fell in love with. At the last step, he concealed his body with his cloak and fled from the castle. The cold night was rejuvenating, it brought life to his animalistic side. His feet picked up a quick pace; he began to run freely in the forest. There was tall tree's, the moon's light that shone a path for him, and the soft dirt made each step he took like he was flying. The forest was a place where the whispers cannot reach him, where he cannot recall the past; this was a place where he could be free.

    His eyes caught the sight of a soft warm glow. He stopped his feet and kept still behind the groups of tree's. He was yards away from the town, but he could see silhouettes of people. Nicholas moved gingerly, leaving no noise behind him. He maneuvered his way closer to the town. Each step he took was as light as a feather. He was close to the town to touch the light. After midnight the town was still alive with men drinking ale, women nursing their stirred babes, and night people lurked the town to clear their mind.

    Dark orbs observed the townspeople with interest. A peaceful life, was this what it was? A question that kept Nicholas mind pondering. His life was bounded by the dreaded castle, to constantly listen to his past, and the dreaded moon that forces him to become a beast. This was his only escape from the hell.

    Nicholas continued to observe the town. He watched people exchange small talk and drunk men stumble their way back home. From the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of a familiar man. He was an aged man who carried a wheelbarrow filled with goods. Nicholas followed the man with his eyes. If the man strayed too far from his vision, Nicholas would follow discreetly. The aged man appeared tiresome, but there was a smile on his face. Nicholas followed the man to a house a bit far from the town. The house was lit up on the inside and there were two horses in the back. It was a quaint looking house, but it was certainly not just for the man. In the brightened house, the window revealed four silhouettes quickly running to the door. When they all ushered out of the house, it was a mother and her three daughters.

    There the sweet girl made her presence noticed with her kindness. It was that girl he wanted, someone benevolent enough to share that kindness with him. Nicholas was certain that if he snatched the girl he would be able to alleviate the pain from the past.

    It was that girl who will break his suffering.
    • Love Love x 2
  3. Josette Parquet: The Beautiful CaptiveThere was nothing she wanted more than her father to return home. Renauld Parquet was a hardworking man, one who put the pride of his many successes above the need to rest. He was growing old, however, and his body could not take the hard labor it was once able to. Josette worried for him terribly. Her mother and sisters assured her that he would be fine, that he was too driven by the prospect of making his family comfortable to succumb to bad health or broken bones, but Josette had her doubts. She was a worrying girl. The longer her father took to come home, the more she ached to see him.

    As if he'd read her thoughts, the silhouette of Renauld Parquet came into view outside the simple window. Josette felt her heart leap, her smile brightening beyond compare as she jumped to her feet and rushed out the front door. "Father!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him as she collided with his inviting embrace. The old worker laughed, a sound so sweet and precious to her ears, and held his youngest daughter close.

    "Josette," he cooed to her, kissing the top of her head. "You act as though you haven't seen me in weeks."

    "I was worried about you." She lifted her head from his chest and looked up to him. "You always work so hard. I'm glad you're home, so you can rest."

    "Rest. Yes, I'd like some of that." Father and daughter returned to their humble home, where the rest of the family waited to greet their patriarch. The reunion was sweet and dinner was sweeter, various servings of ham and crushed potatoes with boiled leeks and cheese, and Josette was proud to know what she'd cooked had lived up to her family's standards. Being the youngest, her mother was still 'training' her to be a good wife to some lucky man, which included lessons in the kitchen and the home. Her two older sisters, Elisabeth and Madeline, were already promised to the sons of merchants. Josette, however, remained unclaimed. She would taste a lie to say she didn't prefer it that way.

    When the meal was done and stories exchanged on the passing of the day, the Parquet family settled down to rest. Goodnights were said and hearths, burnt out. Josette crawled into bed, eager to write down the day's events in her journal as she had every night since the morning she turned thirteen. She wrote by candlelight until all her thoughts had been recorded. At the end of her entry, she signed her name and blew out the flame which kept her room illuminated, and in the darkness she burrowed into her blankets, thankful for health and happiness.

    As always, she was eager to see the morrow.

    The wind blew harshly against her soft, pale skin. The light of the moon washed her surroundings in light and shadow in a way that made her fearful. The castle was unforgiving. She clutched her arms for comfort. Josette whirled around at the sound of someone or something moving behind her, following her trail. She tried to run. Deep in her heart, however, she knew she would be caught. There was no escaping the beast. "Josette," it called, deep and horrifying, almost a growl. "Josette. You cannot leave. Try, and the ghosts will not hesitate to make you one of them." But ghosts weren't real, were they? Was any of this real? Or worse; did she dare test his prophecy?

    Josette threw open the doors, great and heavy, and looked upon the courtyard. Not a soul was in sight. Desperate to save herself, the young maiden dashed down stone steps and towards an iron gate.

    She did not make it. Dead hands plunged from the dirt at her feet and grabbed her ankles, pulling her down below the surface of the earth, down, down, until the soil became heat and agony and her world was smothered in fire. The creatures threw her to the flame and watched her burn while they danced about her corpse. "The beast is dead!" they cried. "Praise God, we have slain the beast at last!"
    Josette shot out of bed as her nightmare scared her from the world of dreams. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and panted, leaning back against her headboard, settling herself back into reality. A dream, she thought in panic. It was just a dream. She looked over to her candleholder and struck the wick to life with a match, letting the orange light help soothe her frayed nerves. Josette breathed in and out, in and out, contrasting the panic she was often prone to, and she looked out the window with a little spark of hope. The stars. I'll be safe, so long as they are watching over me.

    In attempt to calm herself further, Josette climbed out of bed with her candle and crept quietly down the hall. She pushed open the back door, wearing nothing but the nightgown she had fallen asleep in, and stepped out into the fresh autumn night. A gentle breeze flowed through her father's lands, rustling the trees and carrying the voices of distant crickets in the wind. Josette took a deep breath and released, letting a tranquil smile pass over her lips. Her eyes closed to the sounds of promise. Everything will be alright.

    Though deep in her heart, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.​
    • Love Love x 1
  4. Nicholas Lebeau; The Cursed BeastLove, it was a taboo concept to him.

    It held a passionate intimacy he yearned for, for decades. His fingers have forgotten the touch of the person he loved. Was it warmth? Was it delicate? Will it deprive him of the phantoms that haunt him? The questions pondered in his head urging out a headache. Love was such a prepossessing ideal, yet it was forbidden by the voices. They have stolen him from another love, another chance, they stole her. But somehow, some way, she snuck her way back into another woman's body - or - she must've left her ethereal beauty and kindness in that woman. Dark intense orbs followed the dainty beauty and her father. As they entered the house he could only see their black silhouettes. He lingered farther away from the house till the darkness consumed the light on his body.

    The full moon blossomed into an unearthly light. The moon's light overcast the tree's slipped into the opening the leaves gave out and caught Nicholas. It was a dangerous night for the beast to tumble out of its cage. The moonlight was a mischievous mistress; she played her cards dirty and engulfed her deadly curse upon the beast's body. Nicholas ran far, far from the village, far from the people, and even farther from the beauty. There was a dangerous aura that followed him to the ends of the earth. He huffed and puffed out air from his lungs. His feet grew weak and his upper body was soon to go into a lethargic state. The human mind, he had been darkened. Nicholas could feel himself blackening out, losing control of his body, it had started.

    It began with his body - it grew twice the size he normally was, fur began to grow at an inhuman speed, hands grew sharp black claws, and feet has turned into paws. As a beast, his head transfigured into a lion's head, mane and all. However, this lion sprouted devil horns in front of his lion ears. The man Nicholas used to be vanished in an instant, his dark eyes Golden orbs that were meant for hunting scanned the forest. The beast was sensitive to every movement within the forest, he could feel the small animals searching for a hiding spot. The beast, however, was not intrigued with small rodents. He desired for something else, a rose.

    Thus started his hunt for this special, 'rose'. The beast went on all four's and began to pounce on his hind legs. The savage skyrocketed himself above the ground. His animalistic senses caught the scent of an alluring rose. He sped up, his movements were quick and reckless. Constantly crashed his body against tree's, but there was no residue of pain that was left over. Within this large beast was Nicholas - the Lord shriveled up into the ground with his knee's against his chest and his head buried for no one to see the misery.

    An abomination on four legs crept slowly when he reached the peripheral of the forest. He hid behind bushes, watch through the openings he was given. The house was darkened from within; the lack of light being shed indicated that they were in a deep slumber. There was a soft sound that came from behind the house. By instinct, the beast walked gradually to an area where he was able to see the back of the house. The scent grew stronger than ever, the soft wind blew the scent to him. Then, there, there she was.

    The unearthly brightness of the moonlight brought out her ethereal beauty, she glowed at the touch of light - like an angel. Such an anomaly she was, too precious for this world, too precious for a beast like him. She stood like a sacred statue and him a sinner predestined to damnation. The tragedy, yet, in the beast's mind tragedy was nonexistent. Intense gold orbs sought after the woman, followed each minuscule movement, watched her breathing patterns - inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale, and it continued.

    He turned his head away and began to plan out his capture with tact. There was human interference with his beastly instincts. Nicholas urged and persisted the beast to turn away from the girl. However, the full moon played its nasty games against Nicholas. Nicholas could feel his restraints slip away from the monster. With his fingertips curled, held onto the reigns, yet they slipped away and the beast pounced. His large body soared out of the bushes and charged at the girl. The beast took one swift swipe grabbing the girl with his arm. The beasts claws retracted out digging into the woman's sides to keep a firm grip. The beast ran into the woods as reckless as ever. The closer he got to the estate, the louder the voices grew, and their anger heightened.

    The autumn breeze was cold and cruel as ever by the estate. The black painted estate was surrounded by the metal pointed fence, the gothic exterior no longer gave the estate a sense of prepossessing attributes, for the exterior was chipped and destroyed. It was haunting to look at, especially with the ghostly voices. The beast passed the front gates that never close and into the structure. The front doors haven't closed since the time he left the estate. The soft echo's of pitter-patter grew louder as Ms. Lovett appeared before the beasts eyes. She spoke no words, only expressions could speak for her. The appalled look on her face spoke in utter shock. The beast had an outsider within the estate. Ms. Lovett said nothing of it as she recollected herself. Before her lips could open the beast turned away and found his way into the dungeon.

    Below the first floor was the basement. Below the basement was a place of one cell. A strange level that the Lebeau family had. There was no history behind it, no one spoke of it, and no one wondered about it. There he threw the woman in the cell, locked with a strange and convoluted lock. It held gears within the lock metal exterior. The cell was dark and lit only by a single candle that has never touched a flame in its lifespan. Golden orbs looked down at the woman. It felt all too fast and abrupt for Nicholas, but he could not apologize, he could not deny that he didn't want her. It was what he needed. This was his escape from damnation.

    Footsteps pulled his attention away from the woman to Ms. Lovett. She had bandages and a blanket that was accompanied with thick clothes, with a small candle holder that held three slender candles. He looked away to the unnamed beauty. The claws left cuts, cuts that bled through the white gown. The beast turned away, Nicholas had already known he had hurt her. The beast walked past Ms. Lovett and spared her a look of guilt. The night was young and the moon bestowed its farewell.

    Once Nicholas had reached the first floor, his body returned to its original form. His cape covered his nude body, coiled him around with little warmth. He slowly walked up the stairs with heavy steps. There she was, below the basement, in the cell. The beast was tempted, it knew that he wanted her and it took her. Soon the others will find her and they will whisper sinister things in her sweet ear.

    And after that, he will lose his chance for liberation.
    • Love Love x 2
  5. Chapter One
    ❝ The rose, once plucked, made a palace of her iron cage. ❞
    • Love Love x 1
  6. Josette Parquet: The Beautiful Captive
    Josette had the most terrifying dream during her first night in the beast's captivity. The beautiful rose lay curled up in the corner of her cell, cold and shivering from a rainy night covered in nothing but her thin nightdress, but in the depths or her sorrow she had managed to conjure a safe haven. In her sleep, a dream of a strong man came to her. He offered his hand to save her from her plight. He was handsome and kind, or seemingly so, and some instinct told Josette to trust him against her better judgment. But instead, Josette had refused, insisting that she could not trust strangers and would rather save herself from her captors, should it be possible. The man only laughed. The sound was horrible, screeching and ear-splitting unlike any other, so loud that Josette cried out in her sleep. In an instant the man split into two. Out from his skin came a beast with a lion's head who roared into the night, and ran off without her to some unknown beyond.

    Josette woke with a start. Cold and terrified, she clutched the bleeding wound at her side and huddled into the deepest corner of her iron cell. Tears would do her no good here, not in a place of monsters aching to harm her and take what they would, but the young maiden couldn't help but shed them. She wept into the sunrise and wiped her tears as quickly as they fell. She wept until she could weep no more, until she could strengthen herself against the onslaught of emotions that ravaged her.

    "...She is here. A girl! What do we do?"
    "Kill her of course. Kill her, kill her!"
    "The beast cannot be allowed salvation."

    Josette heard the voices, but already she was convinced of her insanity. She pulled her knees to her chest and covered her ears, biting her lip and whimpering. To calm herself from the oncoming panic, she began to sing a Catholic hymn she'd learned while singing in the parish choir. There was nothing else she could do. Singing like a caged songbird was the only power she had in this place, and perhaps it might put the murderous voices to rest.

    "Despite her affliction, she has a lovely voice."
    "So sad that we must crush it."

    "No," Josette pleaded. "Please don't..."

    Long after she had finished her singing, a door unhinged in the distant hallway. Josette snapped her head to attention. She waited and said nothing, holding her breath as if it could save her from an uncertain fate. The voices were too much, and a torturous visitor would surely see her psyche shattered. Please, she prayed silently. Please God, save me from this hell.

    After a moment of silence, a small slit in the door opened and tray of food was pushed through. The opening was sealed soon after. Footsteps signaled someone's retreat.

    "Wait!" she cried, bolting to the door and banging against the surface with all the strength she was capable of. "Tell me why I'm here! Please, what have I done, by who's command have you taken me!?" The desperation in her voice was more noticeable when she spoke, and her tone cracked under the weight of her terror. "Please, if I don't get medical attention I fear this cut will become infected...if it's ransom you want, my father will pay it if he can..."

    Josette succumbed to the weeping again and slid to the floor, burying her face in her hands. She held her trembling body until she could pull herself together, and in a small moment of clarity she looked down to the food offered to her, wondering what sort of poison her captors had given.

    Atop a gilded silver platter was a fresh serving of omelettes, grapes and a large glass of colored juice, a meal fit for a lady beyond her stature. Josette blinked as she stared at it, convinced she had gone insane.

    "What...what is this?"

    What is happening here?
    • Love Love x 1
  7. Heather Lovett; The Gentle MaidThe morning after the kidnap.

    The melancholy of the weather sprouted brought a lethargic atmosphere to the Lebeau estate. The loosened bodies of workers slumped as they took their heavy steps, the flora and fauna withered in the gray skies, and the voices groaned and moaned. Heather brought her dainty fingers to bring a glass bottle of alcohol on a sleek silver platter. The soft clatter was drowned by the moaning winds. The winds replicated the sounds of the oppressed, the sound of the dead. The estate brought her state of mind to become morbid and mournful. It was the sadness that coiled around her thoughts, like a snake, nasty little beast.

    She plucked out a roll of cloth bandages, setting them beside the bottle of alcohol. Next she grabbed a clean linen cloth to clean the open wound. From her memory, she remembered it being rather deep. She picked the platter holding the tray with caution. She closed the closet door and began to walk down the elongated hallway of the East wing. The hallways were empty and only the sound of the wind accompanied her. The cold weather brought bumps to rise from her pallor skin. The broken windows allowed the cold wind to break into the estate bringing everything to freeze at its touch. The silver platter gradually grew too cold, but the maidservant adapted to the cold. The wintry touch of the autumn wind had made the walk down to the dungeon arduous.

    On the first floor, there was another hallway that cuts the staircase in half. She walked further down the hallway and found herself in the kitchen. It was quiet and everything was clean as if nothing was moved or shifted. Beside the stove, only a few inches away, there was a door that led to the basement. She opened the door gently, emitting no noise. The basement below had only the single candle lit to illuminate the steps. Heather grew prude with each step she took. She was wary of the loose cobble steps, there were very few sturdy steps that she trusted. Her steps grew lighter than it was before. They emitted no sound, no weight.

    Every step she took the louder the woman's voice grew. Heather could only recall very little of the woman. She was stunned to see someone else in the estate, that she could not recall her face. All she was able to see was curled spirals of blonde hair - after that it all went blurry. Heather walked further down the staircase where the darkness swallowed the light. The slender candles could no longer illuminate well, she detested the dungeon. The single cage, the darkness, and the voices that echoed; she shivered at the horrendous thought.

    At last, her feet were flat on the floor and the dungeon was lit with ten slender candles. Heather took notice of the captive; blonde curly hair, a simple nightgown, and crimson red seeping through the nightgown. The cut possibly began the process of healing. Heather cursed herself due to her sedated aid. She took hold of the silver platter with one arm and the other slipped into her pocket removing a ring of keys. Each key was shaped differently, some rusted, some chipped, and some was able to keep its steel form. She singled out a chipped and rusted key and opened the cage. She walked inside the cage and closed the door behind her before doing anything.

    It was unnatural to see someone else within the estate. "On your side," She ordered. Before any retorts or unstable limbs, she gave the girl a calming look - softened her facial expression and spared the woman a reassuring smile. Once her orders were acted out, she lifted up the woman's nightgown to examine the cut. The beasts claws dug into the woman's flesh deeply. Luckily, his claws have not dug further enough to touch an organ or bone. Heather grab hold of the linen cloth and the alcohol, went on her knee's. She dabbed the open wound, the linen soaked up the blood. The once pristine white linen faded into a pink color. As soon as the wound was cleaned up, her fingers took hold of the bandage cloths. "Sit up, keep your dress away from the wound."

    Heather wrapped her wound with care. She was meticulous with wounds and injuries. Her benevolent side kept her high-strung from hurting the girl. It has grown into a habit when aiding the Lord when he would gain a scar or two. She finished wrapping the wound as she tied a knot to keep the bandages in place. When she pulled away from the bandages she rose from her knee's and dusted off the dirt that clung onto her uniform.

    She looked down at the pained woman. The empathetic side of her yearned to help the helpless. "You look cold, are you not?" Her tone came off curt than she expected. "If you follow my orders and stay beside me, I will lend you something much warmer."
    • Love Love x 2
  8. Josette Parquet: The Beautiful Captive
    Josette, despite being horrified from the presence of another person, knew better than to bite the hand that fed. The stranger seemed sympathetic enough, though the extent of her mercy was yet unknown. Josette did as the maid asked of her and sat patiently while her wound was disinfected and wrapped. She kept her tears to a minimum and did not look the woman in the eye.

    When the treatment was finished, Josette weakly crawled back into the little ball that made her feel safe, knees to her chest and hands held tight. She glanced skeptically to the newcomer with tear-stained cheeks, debating whether or not it was safe to trust a single word this woman said. It was better to be suspicious in a place like this--it was what all the heroes in her novels would have done.

    "You look cold, are you not?" asked the woman curtly. Josette paused. She rubbed her arms and gave a simple nod. "If you follow my orders and stay beside me, I will lend you something much warmer."

    "You would let me out there so willingly?" Josette replied. "If the creature is out there, I'd rather stay here. I don't..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't want to look at it. I don't want to go near it. He'll kill me."

    The woman chuckled. "Nonsense, my dear. He won't kill you."

    "Then let me go home." She raised her eyes to the maid. "Please. My father will worry for me, my mother, my sisters. I have a home. I have people I love." Josette hugged her knees closer. "Let me go back where I belong."

    "Yes, let her. I concur."
    "Let her go. Such a sweet voice should be spared by the creature."
    "But if he won't butcher her, we will."

    Oh, how Josette hated the whispering. She tried desperately to ignore it, however, in attempt to make her visitor believe she still clung to her sanity. If the voices were some trick of her captor to ease her into losing her mind, she would resist at all cost. Josette was not so easily fooled.

    "I'm sorry," spoke the maid with a humble sigh. "I cannot let you go. It isn't my decision. I can, however, make sure you are comfortable. I believe a change of attire is in order. And a bath, perhaps? A change of scenery?" She offered her pale hand. Josette looked over it skeptically, not wanting to trust her or anything else this abyss seemed to produce, but the offer of healthier surroundings and cleanliness was tempting. She weighed the consequences in her mind. If this woman wanted her dead, surely she would be by now. And staying in this cell wouldn't get her any closer to home, any closer to an opportunity to flee.

    "...alright," said Josette with a final nod. She pushed herself to her feet and followed the smiling woman from the confines of her temporary prison. The halls were illuminated by a single candle, but the light of day kept her watchful of her steps as she ascended the stairs to follow the woman who led her.

    Broken branches on dead trees hovered over the stone courtyard she was led through. She tried to keep her head down, but her eyes wandered to the elaborate statues of weeping angels and heavenly figures with their wings spread wide. They were covered in growing ivy in dark shades of green, like chains binding them to the earth, holding them back from the heavens they longed for. Josette almost pitied them. They paled in the shadow of the high-standing mansion looming over the yard like a gargoyle, like the beast that had stolen her. Merely looking at the place gave her chills that shot up her spine like the cold fingers of some pervasive force. She held herself close as she followed the woman into the manse she dreaded entering, but she supposed anywhere was better than the cell to which she'd been previously confined.

    When Josette stepped into the tattered hall behind the maid, she was led towards a room on her closest right. The maid pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door, gesturing for Josette to enter. It was with deep trepidation that she stepped over the threshold, from one prison to another, and no matter how beautiful the room was with it's painted ceilings and gilded furniture, she missed home and the promise of freedom. The promise of life. She took a few steps into the room fit for a lady far beyond her stature, and draped her fingers along the edge of a cherry wood desk. Did someone used to live here before...?

    "You are welcome to a bath," said the maid. "Perhaps the lord will visit you later. I have placed a dress in the wardrobe for you to wear, if you like."

    Josette was scared of her surroundings and determined to escape at the earliest opportunity, but she would not forget her manners. "Th-thank you," she stuttered, and said no more. The maid took her leave, and once again Josette was alone.

    For the first hour, she took a bath as she was told. She washed around her wound and was careful with her movements, but when she was cleaned of the sweat and grime of captivity, she began to feel human again. She slowly dressed in the gown set out for her, a garment of soft pink fabric and a purity to it that made her feel...safe, somehow. She pulled her heavy blonde curls over one shoulder and sat on the edge or the ornate bed, glancing up to the artistic ceilings cracked and fading with age.

    Not for the first time, she wondered what hell she had been forced into.
    • Love Love x 1
  9. Nicholas Lebeau; The Cursed Beast
    The morning and night grew similar as Winter approached with great speed. The Autumn winds grew colder and the tree's began to lose color. Dark orbs stared out into the window, the cracked window reflected his darkened face. He saw the wisps of passed souls that haunted him, behind him. Two hands that bore no flesh wrapped around his throat, but as it tightened it slipped through his neck. The apparitions surrounded him in - they circled around him whispering vile things in his ear. Sharp malicious voices that hissed in his ears.

    "Monster!" One hissed close to his ear, which had him flinch. "You were the one who did this to us!" The others agreed in unison. He watched as one appeared in front of him, a gentle figure. Hands that was brought to his cheeks. A benevolent soul, yet, when his eyes caught a sight of her face, it was ghastly. Blood-shot eyes that made her black iris prominent, her veil was pushed back to reveal her abnormally pale face, her pale skin tone was colored with palpitated bruises that leaked crimson red. Her presence was tangible, he felt her fingernails dug into his cheeks and her hands pushed inwards. There was anger in her soul. They all suffered damnation; all angered by Nicholas, all tortured in purgatory.

    "You're the one who killed her!" The once benevolent apparition screamed. The shrill in the apparitions voice brought the sensation that his ears bled. Nicholas fell to his knee's with his hands over his ears, a pained expression was drawn on his face. The souls vanished from his sight as he growled loudly. At that moment, his body began to transmute to the beast. "No!" Nicholas pulled his hands away from his ears in a violent manner. The transmute process ceased at his control. His breathing became unstable, he inhaled and exhaled loudly and heavily.

    He didn't kill her, or so he hoped for. He loved Briar, he would never harm her, even if he was a beast. Right?

    His thoughts disintegrated when a soft knock on the door penetrated through the silence. He turned with celerity. The door opened slowly, there was a creak as Ms. Lovett appeared. Nicholas grunted softly as he rose from the floor. The two exchanged looks of discomfort and worry. "Did I disrupt you, my Lord?" Her voice was clear and tranquil, compared to his. "Y-yes..." In spite of clearing his throat, he was too shaken to speak fluidly. "I apologize."

    "What is it, Ms. Lovett?" He inquired curtly.

    "The young woman, I treated her wound, sent her up to a room where she would accommodate to," She stated. "Which room?" His voice grew skeptical, almost worried again. He looked at her with instability in his eyes. It brought the maid to freeze and ushered a reluctance in her voice. "...Lady Lebeau's room." Her voice was soft, almost like a whisper. "Repeat yourself, louder." There was anger infusing with his deep voice. "...L-lady Lebeau's room." Her voice was much louder, however, it squeaked in fear. Nicholas charged up to the woman with anger surrounding him. His arm raised to snatch the woman by her collar.

    "That room is forbidden," He growled. "To you, to the other maids, to the servants, to the voices."

    "Why is she in there?" A threatening voice grew menacing, demonic, monstrous. The fear was evident in Ms. Lovett's eyes. She was helpless at the moment, unable to move. Fear paralyzed her every movement and thought - almost incapable of functioning. "B-because, I-I felt bad." The woman's voice cracked under the feeling of trepidation. "Bad?" He scoffed. He released her from his clutch and stormed out of the room. The door was slammed open, hitting the wall created a sound that resonated into an echo in the hallways. His hands were balled up into a fist that generated protruding veins on his forearms. Each stride, he took brought him closer to the forbidden room. At the end of the West Wing was her room. It was the room with the best view of the forest, Briar always had a fondness for beautiful scenery.

    Before his hand could touch the brass doorknob, Ms. Lovett ran up to him. "What is it?" He asked in spite. "Please, please, do not startle the woman." She pleaded. Nicholas turned his attention away from the door and he walked closer to Ms. Lovett. "You have taken her away from family, injured her, you mustn't frighten her; not at this stage." The pleading voices were similar to Briar's pleads. He looked back at the door, then at Ms. Lovett. "She's vulnerable and scared. She fears the beast and will not feel any better if you yell and threaten her." Nicholas looked back at the door, he sighed softly. He loosened his tense muscles and uncurled his fingers. "Fine."

    He turned his heels around and away from Ms. Lovett. He walked towards the door calmly. His fingers gently grazed the doorknob, uncertain what to say. It has been decades since he knew what it felt to be nervous. His heartbeat was slightly faster than the norm. It was a pleasant to experience a new emotion rather than distress or exasperation. With a tranquil countenance conjured on his face, he turned the doorknob open. When the door opened, it released a soft burst of nostalgia. His heart fluttered when he stepped into the room. He could recall every single significant and diminutive detail. His dark orbs wandered around the room till it stopped at her.

    Just as he remembered, pure.

    His lips opened, but there were no words that he could offer her. Introducing himself as the Lord of the household was risky, instead he decided to downgrade his status. "Is there anything you want?" His aggressive tone slipped out of his lips. Nicholas was taken aback of his sudden tone and shook his head apologetically. Throughout the years of solitary, he had forgotten what it was like to communicate to another. "I apologize," He said in a hushed decibel. "I am Nicholas, a servant."

    He revealed a side of him to her that was deduced dead.
    • Love Love x 1
  10. Josette Parquet: The Beautiful Captive
    Josette let out the lightest of gasps at the slow intrusion of the mysterious man. She jumped up from the bed as if it was a crime to sit there, clutching her chest with a porcelain hand to calm her racing heart. The intruder seemed strange to her, in a manner she couldn't decipher. Was he welcomed? Was she afraid of him? Still trapped in the hurricane of desperation these events had given her, Josette wasn't sure who she could trust. Yet, he had not come to her armed or with dark intention, so the young lady thought it best to remain polite. The less people she angered here, the longer she could plan an escape.

    Nicholas had barged into the room uncalled and he spoke in a harsh tone, and for that, she kept her guard raised. Josette slowly lowered her hand from her chest and gave the smallest of bows, barely noticeable to most people. "A pleasure," she said anxiously. Silence swam between them for a moment, rippling through the room and bobbing her words around in the most uncomfortable way. Did she want anything? Home. I want to go home. But to ask such a thing would make her desperation too obvious too soon, which was not an option if she planned on leaving behind the backs of each person she met. In the back of her mind, she wondered how many people worked in this abandoned, horrifying castle, and if the voices would ever stop.

    The man seemed...odd. Out of place, as if he'd been scooped up from the pages of history and thrown into the modern times. His clothing was old, hand-stitched and fraying, and his hair was far longer than any gentleman's should be. Josette allowed herself a glance at his figure before she stopped herself, noting how rude it was to stare, and she bowed her head to him again.

    "Uhm...water, sir. I would like some water, if that's alright. And...some answers, if you are so inclined to provide." Josette cautiously sat back atop the featherbed, hands in the lap of her poofy pink gown. She felt ridiculous wearing the thing. Such clothes were meant for a lady of far higher stature than herself, but she would not complain. Anything was better than the blood-stained nightgown she'd been wearing before, and the change of scenery was pleasant. Almost too pleasant.

    "Why am I here?" she asked quietly, hoping he would know the answer. "What purpose am I being kept from my family? Can you tell me that?"
    • Love Love x 1
  11. Nicholas Lebeau; The Cursed BeastHer response rolled right off her tongue and floated into his ear. Her benign nature was expected, it was one of the reasons why he stole her. The beast bit his inner cheeks. The room and the woman's presence made him nervous. His arms were by his side as his fingers twitched. His pointer finger and thumb rubbed against each other out of instinct. It was then when the room was filled with silence. There was no escape unless he spoke a word or syllable to her. Instead, he kept quiet and awkward.

    The malicious beast was rendered of words and strength by a mere mortal woman.

    However, he took note that he was not the only one exhibiting awkward characteristics. It severed the discomfort that rested in his stomach; alleviated the distress he was in. He grunted loudly, clearing his throat. Nicholas was unaware of his abrupt and reckless attitude towards the woman. He grew too accustomed to his beastly life - destruction, savage-like manners, and careless attitude. Rather than him inquiring her further, she spoke first. Her request caught him off-guard, as he quickly forgotten the servant role he picked out for himself. "I-" His words were too soft to be considered audible to the woman's ears. To his luck, he did not correct the woman.

    Answers were something he could not give out correctly. He spoke nothing and simply watched her movements. Dark orbs watched as she made herself comfortable on Briar's bed, in her pink dress, and intake the scenery that once belonged to Briar. He bit his lower lip and looked at the ground. His hands were behind his back, clasped together. Her inquiries were to be anticipated. Nicholas had no answer to any of her questions. He could not understand why he snatched her away. The beast took her because he was infatuated with her. Nicholas could not have taken her away with his own will. The beast was the pinnacle of the pushing point.

    "I'm sorry," A rare apology. "I cannot answer your questions - I don't know the answers myself..." His voice trailed off.

    He shook his head, letting the hair resting on his shoulder fall off. There was not much to further the conversation, so he conjured up a silly lie. "The head maidservant, Ms. Lovett, she instructed me to guide you around the castle," He said. There wasn't much he wished to reveal to her. Most parts of the house held high activity with voices, few the voices strayed away from, and the silent areas were nonexistent. He turned around and walked a towards the door. His hand was on the doorknob, already turned and ready to be pushed. "Come," The command left his lips a bit forceful than what a lower class person tone would be.

    Nicholas failed to catch on and opened the door for the woman. Once she stepped out, he took the lead and began the tour. The hallways kept its cold temperature, freezing everything in its way. The few candles that were lit on the walls could not spread warmth; they could only poorly lit a room. The hallways felt rather empty. The grim ambiance of corrupt souls absence brought Nicholas baffled. The soft whispers that festered in his ears, gone. The sensation to no longer hear their spiteful whispers alleviated his paranoia and lunacy - the feeling he felt was liberated.

    His footsteps let out a sonorous echo in the hallway. They were accompanied by the howling wind. The Autumn winds began to take their leave and the Winter snow enters with potent strength. Nicholas came to a halt at a decorous door. A dual door with a brass doorknob rusted throughout the days, intricate designs of floral was etched onto the wood, the door appeared to be untouched for years. He could not recall the last time he entered the room. The beast only took solace in his study and the outside - the other areas were forgotten and feared. His large, calloused hands were reluctant on opening the door. When his finger grazed upon the brass doorknob, he pulled away. His hand clenched into a fist, tightened and loosened.

    Confident in his actions a moment later, he turns the doorknob slowly. He pushed in and walked into the room. With the door opened widely for the woman to walk in, he finds himself forming an incredulous countenance. He was astonished at how most of the books preserved throughout the accumulated years. His eyes widened and jaw dropped. He remembered how it looked before; the high ceiling, the walls were all stacked with books of all types of genre's, three tall ladders, a grand chandelier, and the liaison of the sumptuous library was a monumental window. The prepossessing appearance the library once upheld was shattered. The monumental window cracked and broke due to violent winds, the chandelier could no longer shed light, the ladders were deteriorating before his eyes, and few books were found on the ground either ripped or damaged beyond repair.

    "The library," He paused to collect all the emotions and memories. "The books are satisfying but do not trust the ladder, refrain from standing by the window,"

    "The Winter winds can penetrate through the glass."
    • Love Love x 1
  12. Josette Parquet: The Beautiful Captive
    It was not a kind place, this castle. Abandonment from care and time alike left the hollow interior to the fury of nature's grasp, weathered and tested by the forces beyond. A small lizard skittered across the hallway and through a hole in the adjacent stone. Cold winds seeped through the broken windows, and Josette held her arms close for warmth and comfort, if any was to be found. A part of her had expected this man to give her no answers, so she was not disappointed there, but knowledge was what she sought above all else; except a way home, of course. She followed the stranger without complaint until he stopped at an elaborate door, and gestured for her to enter.

    It wasn't until he opened it that she found herself relieved.

    If anything could have lifted her spirits, it was the library. Taken by loneliness and uselessness in equal, the interior of the cozy spot was appealing to a broken woman in a broken room. Her mouth fell slightly ajar as she stepped forward in her heavy pink dress, smiling as her eyes met the chandelier on the ceiling. "It's beautiful," she muttered. "Despite the wreckage..."

    Josette took several steps forward and glided her fingers along the spines of several books. She read the titles as she went, recognizing many of them as historical novels and tales of grandeur. Romance and adventure, hardly anything of non-fictional value. Secretly, that was how she preferred it. Josette gave a little smile to see some familiar names, ones close to her heart, before glancing out to the mess of a library once again. With a little work, this place could be wonderful, Replaced wallpaper, fixtured lighting, new windows, bright carpets...but I'm not staying here, she thought firmly. That will be some other person's job. Not mine.

    Josette strode to the sitting area and ran her fingers along the top of scarlet velvet. Dust was left behind, but she wiped it away with care. "Can you tell me who lives here?" she asked gently, looking up to the handsome servant in her presence. "Or, who used to?"

    "Tell her, tell her."
    "Tell her the truth."
    • Love Love x 1
  13. Nicholas Lebeau; The Cursed BeastDevilish whispers stung his ears. Their whispers were equivocal of pins being shoved into his ears. He noticed his countenance being slipped away from him. The unvarnished emotions began to show in his expressions; there was anger, pain, and sadness. His hands were behind his back, he had his nails dug into his skin. To keep composure he inflicted pain on himself - there was no other way to keep the beast within tamed.

    Dark orbs watched the blonde beauty. The pink dress was long enough to keep her feet hidden; each step she took made the illusion that she glided. When she spoke, her voice was lifted into the air. It gently traveled in the room and reached him. It eased the whispers, vanquished the pain. Yet, he was unable to muster up a kind expression to the woman. He grunted softly clearing his throat, approached the woman. He stood beside her, possibly an inch or so away. Nicholas did not realize the close proximity. He looked up at the wide windows with melancholy. The memoir's replayed in his head of the jovial past. His hardened expression softened, his face lit up, no longer solemn.

    However, the woman's inquiry reverted his countenance.

    "A Lord and a Lady," He began. "The Lady was the one who kept the estate going. She kept the maidservants and servants spirits high." The memory of Briar brought his lips to tremble. "Sh-she, was a beautiful woman with a gentle heart," His voice cracked, but he continued on. "However, she, she died." His nails dug deeper into his flesh, he was close to perforate the skin. "Her husband," To speak about himself almost baffled Nicholas. He could not utter a positive word about himself. The whispers proved to him, showed him, forced him to look at himself. What a monster, it was the only thing he was able to say about himself. Disgusted with himself, he spoke negatively.

    "The Lord was a cruel man, he died early." It was true.

    The man he once was died. The whispers shattered the man in the past and forged a weak, paranoid monster. "Let us keep moving."

    Nicholas transitioned from a staircase, descended to the first floor, entered a corridor, and at the end of the corridor, a door. A large hand turned the brass doorknob with caution. To his surprise, when he opened the door, the garden's were in complete ruins. The once verdant grass withered into crisps, flower petals faded into pungent potpourri, twigs and dead fauna littered the grounds. Nicholas prudently walked further into the garden's. The sound of twigs snapping forged an echo into the forest. He looked up and noticed the gazebo was torn down from past winter storms. A catastrophe - a dismal scene.

    "The gardens..." His voice trailed off.

    The ambiance was palpable with melancholy in the air. There was a perception of mourning in the garden; it didn't protrude from Nicholas, which shocked himself. The whispers mourned, they mourned for their beloved Lady. Her tangible presence, kindness that seemed to linger from her entirety. The gardens was where Nicholas buried her body, underneath the plots where there was once beautiful flowers. The flowers now were lifeless, colorless, the dark color scheme in the garden was suited for the cloudy winter. He turned to the blonde woman with a pained expression drawn on his face.

    "This was Lady Briar's favorite place in the estate."
    • Love Love x 1
  14. Josette Parquet: The Beautiful Captive
    Tragedy was something Josette had only read about in books. She knew sadness and hardship, knew of pressure and anxiety that could cripple someone to half of their potential. But to say she was familiar with tragedy itself was a lie. Her life had been sweetly simple up until the point of her untimely capture. Still, Josette was a woman of deep feelings and the servant's tale moved her deeply. "That's terrible," she muttered as Nicolas led her from the library. She was reluctant to leave, but did not want to wander the castle alone. "Death is never something to make lightly of. I pity them."

    As Josette followed Nicolas throughout different sections of the castle, she began to feel an odd sensation in her stomach, much like nausea though far less controllable. She yearned for a glass of water and a bed to rest in, but it was not to be. She wondered if the voices whispering through stone walls could have a physiological effect on her very being. It must have been some evil in this place that drove to her capture in the first place. Perhaps the evil fed off the spirits of young maidens and they were eager to feed. It seemed more plausible than any logical option; she was certain that the creature that stole her was a monster of the most hideous form.

    The sickness only spread when the garden doors were opened. Stale air overwhelmed her and if she closed her eyes, she imagined herself alive in a coffin buried deep underground, unable to break herself free.

    "This is no garden," she managed, looking at her hands to see how her skin had paled. Dead leaves and flower petals cracked beneath her feet like autumn leaves, though far more mournful. There was no color in this part of the house. None of the flowers held a spec of their earlier shade. Josette curiously touched one of the petals remaining on a withered stem, but the blackened fauna crumbled like ashes and fell to the ground by her feet. "This is a wasteland. Why does no one tend it? Though I suppose it is beyond tending, now."

    "Dead. Dead."
    "Dead like our lady."

    "Quiet," Josette whispered, hoping the servant would not think her mad. "You should not say such things."

    "She spoke to us! She spoke to us!"
    "She is gutsy, this one."
    "Perhaps she will die soon like our lady's garden."
    "Black and withered, black and withered!"

    Josette, far too kind and loving for such dark games, shook her head and addressed both the evil and the near servant. "Nothing is ever truly dead. Memories live on inside us. Is a story ruined when the book no longer exists?" She plucked another dead flower and twirled it between her fingers. "Just because a singer dies doesn't mean the songs do. There is always someone else to keep singing, to keep telling stories. Someone to replant a garden." Josette turned her lovely eyes to the dark man before her. "I am a terrible gardener, sir, but I hope someone can bring life to this place someday. Even if it is not with bushes and flowers like you hope."
    • Love Love x 1
  15. Nicholas Lebeau; The Cursed BeastThe air was thick, difficult to breath with ease. Nicholas felt discomfort around him. It was known to happen in the gardens - it's where she had slept. Where his beloved slept throughout the years. Decades had passed unnoticed, nothing changed. The whispers had grown to mourn here, their groans mimicked the howling wind.

    The beauty spoke with confidence. Had she not heard the whispers? Did she not flinch as their shrill voice were far too intimate?

    "The gardens died when the Lady died." His throat became tight. "Only she knew how to tend the flowers. Ms. Lovett does not tread out here, she fears the things that lurk here." He bit his lower lip, "As do I," His sentence was too quiet to be considered audible.

    He took a step closer to the beauty but kept a distance. There was an unshakable fear that seemed to hold a tight grasp on him. The phobia to break - to destroy was such a savage manner. It was the reason why the young Lord allowed the demonic beast to reside in him. It festered, tarnished the inside of his body. Each time the beast awakened, claws dug deeply into his soul and spilled black blood; what dirty blood he had. The dark thought broke its path as a soft voice called to him.

    It did not speak his name, however. He looked up to meet her eyes. Large eyes, he could not seem to read. Eyes that looked at him so tenderly; impossible, he could not look at them. He broke away in cowardice. He could not look at kind eyes anymore, it frightened him. She looked at him so sweetly. It only left him pondering with inquiries.

    "Why?" His voice grew cold. "You speak so sweetly, are you not frightened? Taken away from your home to a terrible place like this? Where the voices grow to hate you, yet you have done nothing heinous?" He walked up to her, almost stride toward the woman. "The beast lives within these walls, but you manage to speak with kindness. Not an utter of despair, the constant plea to return home, why?" The woman befuddled him.

    The close proximity he stood by her could've scared her away. He would not let her run, he couldn't. She spoke confidently, she spoke about hope, hope that had withered and aged into quietus. He wanted what she had, this positivity that become so foreign to him. By then his large hands had grabbed hold of her shoulders, he gripped tightly. He had forgotten how delicate she was. Underestimated his strength, he did not think. He was reckless when he grabbed her. Yet, he was far too baffled to notice.

    "How can you act like her? How? Why are you so hopeful? Why?"

    Nicholas's eyes widened and his voice quickened, indicated impatience.
    • Love Love x 1
  16. Josette Parquet: The Beautiful Captive
    When Nicholas grabbed her, Josette's frame began to tremble and she inhaled sharply with panic. His eyes were wild with sorrow and rage, no longer the simple servant she had encountered earlier. Fear froze her in place. She stared into the dark orbs of his eyes with bright blue ones, wide with anxiety, and her mouth fell open to speak. No words came forth at first. Josette was paralyzed, trying to discover the reason for his sudden change from peaceful to hostile. There were too many mysteries in this place to solve, too many things horribly wrong with her situation, and she missed her family so much it brought her agony. She missed sanity and singing and reading and freedom.

    In his eyes, she saw a ferocity she was not yet prepared to face.

    Josette began to weep. Her lips trembled and her eyes clenched shut. She turned her head away from him and whimpered until the voices came, along with his shouts, and became too much for sweet Josette to handle.

    "How can you act like her? How? Why are you so hopeful? Why?"

    "Kill her! Master!"
    "Offer her to us!"
    "A soul so sweet will ease your torment."
    "Kill her or be damned."
    "KILL HER!"

    Josette screamed and shoved Nicholas away, clutching at her skirt to flee. "Stop it, stop it!" she cried. "Do not fool my kindness for vulnerability, please, have mercy, I am only a merchant's daughter..."

    She pressed her back the mansion's door. Reaching behind her, Josette pulled at the handle to open the door, only to discover it locked. The voices laughed, responsible. She was trapped in the glass house with this angered man, an unpredictable shadow, and only then was she truly afraid.

    "Please," she begged. "Don't hurt me..."

    "Kill her!"
    • Love Love x 1
  17. Heather Lovett; The Gentle MaidThe shrill screech of the kettle captured Heather's attention. She hurried toward the stove, turned off the heater. Her delicate ivory hand burned as it grasped the handle. She yelped loudly and released the kettle letting it drop onto the floor. The water spilled slowly. Her body was seated on the ground in a messy manner. Her hand gripped tightly onto her wrist. Her hand burned - her skin turned a bright red flesh color, the skin seemed to peel slightly. Air seeped out from her closed teeth. Heather mustered up all her strength to rise from the ground. She walked clumsily toward the cupboard. She opened the cupboard and pulled out the essentials.

    Once she had cleaned her hand and wrapped it in a secure method, she resumed her daily chores. The hot kettle cooled and the water traveled around the floor with no sense of direction. She sighed solemnly and began to clean the water. As she did, a noise, muffled it was but distinct to her ears that it was Nicholas. She rose from the ground quickly. The only thought that processed through her intellect was the woman.

    Her death will only increase the lament emotions within the estate and Nicholas. She ran to the garden doors, her body pushed the door opened. Her sudden appearance captured Nicholas's attention. Her dark eyes and his met. No verbal exchanges were necessary; they both knew well what they conveyed. Nicholas turned back once more at the woman and released her. The man stormed off, pushed Heather aside. She watched as his figure evaporated from her sight. The howling wind turned into mourns and the palpable tension ceased. Heather turned back to the blonde beauty and approached her prudently.

    "Are you okay?" She inquired. Her hand gradually checked for any minor injuries. None to is seen, none to be perturbed. "Please, come inside. The cold will only grow worse." Heather spoke in a stern tone. "He will not come again, not now. You will be safe." Her stern tone had a reassuring aura to it. "Now come."

    Heather led Josette into the house and into the kitchen. She pulled a chair for Josette and continued to make her tea. She grew wary of her injured hand, prudent around the heat. She boiled the water once again and maneuvered her way around the kitchen - preparing small snacks to eat. She organized the food into a china plate, presenting the edibles neatly and aesthetically. Her thought was captivated by the spur of anger. The tension that vanished once she appeared before them. Curious she was; detested the fact she knew so little. The maid turned with the plate on one hand, the other placed behind her back.

    She hated to worry others.

    The plate was placed in front of Josette. "The tea shall be done momentarily," Heather announced before she seated herself. "I apologize for Nicholas's sudden burst of anger - he's," The word had not reached her tongue. "...tempestuous." The word seemed to fit the man's personality, but it fitted him oddly. "Do not fear, he will bring you no harm, I shall see to it. If he lays a hand on you, I will personally return you to your family." A promise that held no authenticity.

    The kettle resonated its shrill screech once again. Heather rose from her seat and grabbed a cloth. She handled the kettle with caution. She walked toward the teapot, and poured the water where the leaves were. An aromatic scent of the tea herbs filled the kitchen. She placed the teapot and cups onto a tray to the table. Before she poured the tea she inquired Josette.

    "Do you want sugar, cream, or nothing inside your tea?"
    • Love Love x 1
  18. Josette Parquet: The Beautiful Captive
    She did not want sugar in her tea. She didn't want tea at all, as a matter of fact. Josette wanted her family, the comforts of home, to know what was wrong with this place and why she was so cruelly taken from the only life she'd ever known. This was surely no punishment for a crime; Josette was the purest of young women and innocent as a rose. She feared she would never know the reason for her sudden captivity, and the promise of escape was becoming more and more far-fetched.

    To no surprise, it took Josette a few minutes of awkward silence to come up with anything to say. This maid had saved her a great deal of pain, Josette was sure of it, yet would she snap and become hostile so quickly as Nicolas had? Could she trust the gentle smile of this moderately pleasant woman?

    More importantly, am I ever truly safe here?

    Josette frowned at the aesthetic foods she was given. The need to eat was tempting, but her appetite had long since dissipated. Still, she knew that keeping herself alive for her family was the right course of action, so she took a small treat from the plate and allowed herself the tiniest of bites. It was nearing dinnertime as well. Perhaps this would be her last chance to eat before she was doomed to another night of unpleasant dreams. At least she had a bed to sleep on, this time. The key to survival will be a calm mind and a still heart.

    "Tempestuous," she said at last, looking down at the small cookie between her pale fingers. "Too delicate a word, I think." Josette had begun to like Nicolas until his outburst. Now, she wanted not a thing to do with him.

    "Will he kill her soon?"
    "I'm not sure. Perhaps we should leave her alone."
    "Her sadness makes us sad. Why is that...?"

    Josette took in a harrowing breath and glanced up to Heather. "May I return to my room?" she asked. Her throat burned and she felt on the verge of tears. "I could use a night of rest on a bed instead of a concrete floor. I find myself exhausted and my appetite is poor."

    Oh, how she ached to be alone.
  19. The Others; The Loathing SoulsDelicate like a rose the beauty was. Shaken by the roar of a beast, a petal has fallen on his carelessness.

    They drifted aimlessly within the manor. Endless lamentation and abhor for the beast. A monstrous beast that chained them within the castle; they are unable to pass purgatory, forced to be with their executioner. They grew bored of the beasts endless wails and self-loathing. Luckily, they have their eyes spotted on a new prey - a beautiful budding rose. The beast frightened her as they had hoped for. She grew weary of the manor, alone she wished to be.

    "If that is what you wish," Heather said. "If you would, direct yourself to your room." The maid requested. "I have to return to my master, to speak of Nicholas' behavior."

    The others followed, they followed the blonde beauty once she was dismissed.

    "Hopeless and scared - just like us." One spoke.

    "That's how they always are, never happy in the clutches of the beast." One spatted.

    "What if..." One pursued an amusing idea. A soft giggle filled the hallways and empty rooms. They continued to follow the rose. Once her doors closed, she was in solitude. The closed windows burst open. The wind slipped into her bedroom and brought in the wintry cold. The drapes flew up into the ceilings and materials fell down. The aroma of pinewood filled the bedroom. The others chuckled as one brought their icy touch on the blonde's shoulder. Their raspy voice close to her ear.

    "Nightfall, the beast wails in self-loathe," The sentence crackled, the voice wheezed for air. "That, that is when," Another intake of air. "You will flee,"

    "Run, run, far, far away." The other yelled into her ear. Their tangible presence vanished.

    "Into the bleak you go." Their tangible presence vanished.

    Their presence roamed throughout the castle. They entered the beasts domain, spectated from the high-ceilings. The beast in utter rage and humiliation shattered glass to alleviate the inevitable humiliation. His sudden outburst furthered himself from the girl. Ms. Lovett spoke soothing words to the savage, however, it only fueled his anger. A hand raised but it had never strike. No longer could the beast hurt another; the fear of the witch to appear has left a deep mental scar.

    The beast and Ms. Lovett's discordant had left the others to a yawn. They gradually vanished from the room and wandered within the castle.
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  20. Chapter Two
    ❝ The wintry wind drains the floral beauty. ❞
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