Beautiful & Bookish

it  was  a  dangerous  habit,  letting  people  see  the  first  draft  before  it  was  polished.  he'd  spent  his  whole  life  mistaking  proximity  for  permanence.

as  a  kid,  ryan  believed  in  EVERYTHING.  there  was  no  falsehood  he  wouldn't  swallow  with  a  spoonful  of  honey,  no  quilt  of  lies  his  parents  couldn't  drape  over  his  all-too-gullible  shoulders.  but  for  kids  like  him  and  min-gi  —  imagination  was  their  greatest  asset  and  a  defense  against  a  foe  worse  than  the  most  fearsome  monster:  loneliness.  min-gi  was  the  ideal  nursemaid  for  ryan's  paranoid  fantasies.  he  was  his  first  FRIEND  and  first  fan  and  sometimes,  the  person  who  saw  the  potential  for  him  to  be  something  more  than  just  an  asian  kid  with  a  guitar  from  bc.

but  like  childhood  fears,  sometimes  you  outgrow  people.  ryan  hoped  belle  would  never  outgrow  him.  he  swings  his  legs  out,  bumper  CREAKING  under  shifted  weight.  pinches  the  neck  as  he  strums  a  chord,  a  crooning  g  major  and  he  watches  the  vibration  die  on  copper  strings.  he  swings  his  legs  out,  bumper  creaking  under  shifted  weight.  he  pinches  the  neck  as  he  strums  a  chord,  a  crooning  g  major  and  he  watches  the  vibration  DIE  on  copper  strings.  ryan  watches  the  corner  of  her  mouth  twitch,  a  triumphant  little  spark  kicking  up  in  his  chest  when  an  eye  roll  follows  it.  he  just  can't  win  her  over,  can  he?

❛❛  new  ears,  huh?  ❜❜  he  echoes,  grin  crinkling  the  corners  around  his  eyes.  “  i  gotta  warn  you  though,  it's  a  ROUGH  rough  draft.  he  had  written  songs  before,  enough  to  create  an  ep  that  was  floating  around  on  a  cd  that  was  floating  around  somewhere  in  the  back  of  his  van.  he  can't  procrastinate  any  longer,  ❛❛  alright,  here  goes.  ❜❜ ❛❛  took  the  best  of  you, 

cause  i  needed  to

see  your  skin  from  the  inside.

draw  a  map  of  you, 

like  you'd  want  me  to, 

if  i  wasn't  a  searchlight

take  the  rest  of  me, 

you  got  the  best  of  me, 

hold  on  tight  we'll  be  alright.  ❜❜ 

A faint blush blooms against her freckled cheeks as he sings, and once the ending note sounds, she's speechless. It's something she'd always admired about Ryan's music-- his raw honesty and passion.

She almost doesn't know what to say.

Still, if she keeps standing there blushing and staring down at him, he'll never let her hear the end of it. "W-well, it's lovely. More than lovely. However, as a romantic myself, perhaps you might consider this reconstruction?"

And then she sings, low and sweet, like a lonely maiden calling for her prince charming.

"took the worst of you,

'cause I wanted to

feel your heart beat within mine.

draw a map of you,

like you asked me to--

see our galaxies collide.

love, take all of me,

every flaw of me.

hold on tight.

this is our night."

She, too, feels vulnerable. Something about singing to him felt far more intimate than taking off her clothes. Sable lashes flutter against her cheekbones as she glances downward.

❝ 𝐹𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔   𝑎𝑛   𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑙𝑒    .ᐣ    𝐺𝑜𝑑,   𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡   ℎ𝑜𝑤   𝑜𝑙𝑑   𝑎𝑟𝑒   𝑦𝑎    .ᐣ    ❞         he   forgot   that   this   damn   circus   is   so   weird   when   it   comes   to   everyone's   ages.   they   all   exist   in   the   same   place   at   the   same   time   and   all   age   the   same   now,   but   they're   all   over   the   place   when   it   comes   to   times   they   came   to   be   in   here.   it's   always   so   wild   to   think   about   it.   that's   why   he   tried   not   to.

then   the   question   of   what   his   style   hits   his   ears,   there's   a   casual   shrug.       ❝   Just   standard   stuff.   Don't   mind   the   overalls,   but   jeans   and   t-shirts   aren't   a   bad   style   on   me   !    As   long   as   it   isn't   girly,   I'm   all   for   it   !    ❞

"Perhaps, I can be of assistance, then," she offers. "I'm obviously native to this world, and I have access to several international databases. We could search for them together."

And I do love you. And you are awfully interesting. And I want to protect you from all pains and terrors.

The   monarch   paying   obeisance   ,   rood   weighted   down   towards   the   monochromatic   ,   lacquered   tile   .   The   big-top   drained   of   all   saturation   .   Only   now   did   his   exhaustion   settle   in   .   Too   often   did   he   veer   away   from   the   intervention   of   his   history   .   Now   they   all   saw   truth   .   He   did   not   know   whether   his   words   of   reassurance   that   some   had   come   to   expect   here   was   still   welcome   .

₊ ♔     ๋࣭   ⭑ ❝   -   I   ❞     The   tonal   warble   of   a   dissonant   voice   pulled   out   of   a   morphing   countenance   without   a   mouth   .   ❝    I'm   sorry   .   ❞     He   starts   .   HE   DOESN'T   GET   TO   RELIVE   THIS   DREAD   ,   it's   a   bed   already   made   &&   laid   in   .   ᵂʰᵃᵗ   ʰᵉ   ᶠᵃᶜᵉˢ   ⁿᵒʷ   ⁱ    𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓   . 

₊ ♔     ๋࣭   ⭑ ❝    For   my   part   in   this   all   .   For   the   memories   you   harbor   of   a   life   you   had   never   experienced   .   I'm   sorry   for   every   time   I   had   the   words   at   my   disposal   yet   held   them   close   .   My   past   is   an   unwelcome   monstrum    I   can   no   longer   turn   a   blind   eye   as   it   veers   it's   ugly   head   .   ❞    The   apex   of   his   bowing   figure   lacking   the   grace   of   a   king   .    ❝     &&   that   you   dwell   in   the   shadow   of   such   a   beast   .   You   have   every   right   to   feel   however   you   need   to   no   one   could   expect   you   to   come   to   terms   with   this   so   hastily   .   ❞     ཐིཋྀ     ๋࣭ ⭑₊  

However, if so, then Caine is the Creature who ought to have embraced kindness instead of stoking his rage at the injustice of being born.

"I'd give no one such a title here. This is... well, something I will need to sit with until it can be accepted. I'm confused. More than a little scared. But not angry. Such an emotion will neither solve anything nor turn back time."

A   waterlogged   fount   that's   mantle   held   the   countenance   of   twin-headed   cherub   one   fallen   to   sunken   facets   ,   eyes   glazed   with   mirth   the   latter   innocent   ,   eyes   wholly   lit   &&   void   of   it's   mirror's   spite   .   It's   sputters   from   either   side   ,   waters   unsettled   ,   only   still   in   hushed   minutes   where   the   steadfast   flow   turns   to   lethargy   .

They lean forward, studying her with unabashed curiosity, and something stirs within her chest. It's less butterflies, and more the spark and flare of something igniting. Her cheeks flush as she fights the urge to withdraw or change the subject. He has never once lied to her. They have always stood there in verisimilitude, barbaric and beautiful, morbid and miraculous. The least that she can do is match his candour.

"You're right," she murmurs. "Books tend to paint everything with a flourish of the dramatic, but that does not mean that love is unachievable."

he's  gotten  good  at  pretending  his  world  isn't  seconds  away  from  crashing  down  around  him.  he  was  homeless  in  the  sense  there  wasn't  any  home  worth  returning  to,  his  old  bedroom  plenty  of  space  to  give  the  twins  their  own  bedroom.  the  akagis  had  always  been  good  at  that,  filling  in  the  cracks,  moving  on  without  him.  if  he  returned  home  now  he'd  just  prove  to  min  that  he  had  been  right  all  along.  would  he  still  let  him  take  the  floor  if  he  asked  nice  enough?  FUCK  THAT.  min  had  made  his  choice,  and  ryan  would  rather  sleep  on  a  bed  of  rusted  springs  and  threadbare  blankets  than  than  crawl  back  to  beg  for  a  square  of  carpet. 

❛❛  maybe,  ❜❜  his  voice  seesaws  between  coy  and  delicately  placed  sarcasm.  he  shifts  his  weight  against  the  open  door  of  the  van,  leans  his  head  out  to  give  her  an  expectant,  no  doubt  SIDEWAYS  look.  he  gets  a  good  look  of  her  then.  she's  a  princess  pulled  straight  from  the  cracked  spines  of  the  paperbacks  he  used  to  watch  his  mom  read  growing  up.  ❛❛  why,  is  it  working?  ❜❜  followed  by  a  convincing  wiggle  of  the  eyebrows. 

"Well, while I'm not as musically gifted as you, I do have a knack for words. Why don't you play the chorus and I can give you some ideas?" Getting comfortable, she crosses her arms and leans her weight against the side of the van. "Sometimes it helps to see things with new eyes. Er... hear things with new ears?"

She chuckles and waves a hand. "You know what I mean."

She still has responsibilities waiting for her in her lonely studio apartment. Unread manuscripts. Bills. Business emails. Social media updates. But the motivation just isn't there, and Ryan has consistently proved to be a good distraction.

Only a handful of the most trusted guards and servants were invited to the occasion. Fewer were told why, for the royal family's privacy. It settled an eerie quiet in the sunny manor that only broke when their much-needed expert arrived.

"Thank you so much for coming," she told Belle at the threshold, only remembering after the footmen handled baggage to extend her hand to shake. That was the formal gesture for humans in this type of circumstance, but for the pit in her stomach, Ariel would have preferred embracing.

"My husband will be this way. I mean--when..." Ariel led Belle inside the manor, wincing. "It's downstairs."

Despite having been here for days, Ariel had chosen traveling leathers and breeches this morning. Her hair that Eric had tied up for her now clung to the sweat on the back of her neck, and a few strands of straw dusted around the ends.

In the cellar, a few torches clustered around the hallway to a door retrofitted with iron trusses. It held wine once. Ariel grabbed the handle with both hands, steeling herself, and hauling it open, bracing the door against the heavy wheelbarrow she'd been using all day.

Within the cold stone walls sat a nest of straw lined with every old blanket Ariel scrounged in the span of her stay. But at least to her, this accommodation did little to soften the iron chains bolted to the walls.

She stood back at the handiwork that she had to call finished, hugging herself through the slightest quiver in her voice. "Do you think this will be enough?"

Belle gingerly walked into the open chamber, taking care not to directly touch the iron chains. That would certainly hold once the prince turned; she herself was feeling nauseous just being in its proximity.

"You've done well." She briefly placed a hand on the princess's shoulder before rummaging around in her satchel for her supplies. "Were-creatures, like faerie, are beings of magic. Or, at least, something science does not yet understand. Iron will weaken him and hold him until the sun rises. And what I've brought here will soothe any pains-- and hopefully, bring a bit of clarity."

She tied sachets of yarrow and rosemary to each corner of the room, murmuring a short incantation as each one was secured.

"These will protect him from evil influences. And this--" She settled an herb bundle into the princess's hands. It smelled earthy and bitter. Mugwort. "You will burn this before him once the change begins, bathing him with the smoke."