Untitled

––it’d taken her nearly years to learn how to use a fork. no, typically those dinglehoppers were to be used to straighten the hair out. at least that was scuttle’s advice before she’d lost her fin. 

there were only moments left before she’d have to make back for the ship– they were leaving the harbor once the sun was highest in the sky. it was just just enough time to finish enjoying her waffles, which were a delicacy she never had the pleasure of trying; along with a word she’d never speak in merriment . one scoop in had her in so much amazement, that she was turning around in her seat in that cafe to tell the person behind her about how amazing they were!! this however, was a hard feat, as she was missing a voice. 

she bounced on her heels in the comfy booth, trying to get the person’s attention., though in her excitement her wobbly legs caused her to topple over in her section.

“What kind of cafe doesn’t serve whiskey?” Adam muttered quizzically to himself, eyeballing his not-so-spiked coffee disappointedly. “That’s like drinking coffee without cream!” He mindlessly swirled the concoction with a spoon, debating on whether he would try doing the “sober thing” today. 

He’d made his way near the water today, looking for a much needed change of scenery. A change of scenery so he continue wallowing in his own misery— but Adam was near the ocean, so it made it somewhat better, right? He’d been so busy contemplating whether he planned on drinking his now lukewarm coffee, that he hadn’t noticed the toppling stranger in the booth in front of him. 

when: the full moon. 

where: the outskirts of villeneuve.  

It usually began with chills. Sickly, feverish chills, comparable to the symptoms of withdrawal. When the chills began, Adam knew his was limited. 

He’d created the perfect setup when the night of the full moon arrived. There was an abandoned cabin, right on the outskirts of Villeneuve, and it was there he’d chain himself every night, the only way he knew to contain the monster within him. But on this particular night, his timing had been off— far off. He’d been reckless, spending too much of his time with the drink, and the chills had snapped him back to reality, and Adam ran out of the bar in a panic. He had to make it back in time. Adam swore he’d never run the fast in his life. He had to restrain himself— or there was no telling who he’d hurt.

The chills were followed by the aches, ones he could only compare to the pain of having every bone in his body break, as well as his insides turning to literal lava. He bit back his cries as he urged himself onward. He would make it. He always made it. But as he arrived, inches away from the cabin, he collapsed, crying out in pain. 

He proceeded to crawl towards the cabin, as walking was no longer an option, dragging himself to door, and barely managing to force it open. But with his onset transformation, he’d begun losing touch with his mind, as well. Had he heard... footsteps? Adam cried out in pain. He wasn’t going to make it. 

Another day, another spell. That was Ursula’s mantra recently–ever since she had come out of hiding, her business had been booming. It seems that, even after her infamous dealings with King Tritons daughter, people still wanted her help. People were funny little things like that–they got on her for doing bad things, but they still came to her begging for her to solve their problems.

Well, Ursula was nothing but helpful.

Pouring a bottle of unmarked silver liquid into her cauldron–she was making a love potion for some poor sucker that begged her for it–she heard the door to her shop open. Well, she knew it wasn’t Floatsam or Jetsam, so that meant it was a customer. How lovely. “Popping into a witch’s lair without knocking is really a bad idea, honey. But,” she turned away from the cauldron, a smile on her face, “I’m feeling nice today. Is there something you need?”

He’d grown weary of his perpetual inaction. It was time to do something, to try something—anything, and Ursula fell under the spectrum of anything. 

He’d been pacing back and forward outside of her lair, contemplating entering, and everytime Adam finally worked up enough courage to even reach for the door, he’d recoil hesitantly. He hadn’t been too familiar with magic, only what was introduced to him by his fairy caretaker, and that alone was enough to startle him. There was no telling the sort of magic a sea witch could possess. 

But as he pondered further, he realized that no amount of magic, dark or good, compared to the ailment within him, the beast inside of him, and the havoc it had the potential to cause. He had to do something. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered with a long exhale, before bursting into her lair before his mind could con convince him otherwise. His eyes scanned the room whimsically— it was just as magical as he imagined. It was her commanding voice that brought him out of his trance, and he blinked at her wildly before finally responding. “My apologies— that was rude of me,” he began awkwardly. “But I think you may be able to help me with.... an ailment of mine. My name is Pri— Adam. Just Adam.”

rome flynn, 24, cis male, he/him, werewolf | did you see the look on ADAM LAURENT’S FACE ? they know as well as anyone that a war is coming. i’ve heard they’re a neutral with a reputation for being rather - cowardly, - self-loathing as well as + adaptable, + enticing. no wonder they’re known as THE BLACK SLEEP. they hail from the kingdom of villaneuve and are a royal. i’ve heard that in the land without magic, their fable is called BEAUTY & THE BEAST. let’s see how long they’ll last.