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@divinarosa
She's a beauty, but a funny girl. That Belle.
Independent Headcanon-Based Belle from Disney's Beauty and the Beast, with influence from As Old as Time: A Twisted Tale by Liz Braswell.
Written by: Emilie. Twenty9. She/they. 2-spirit. Mixed indigenous.
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bcckishrose -> divinarosa
— anna popplewell as lady lola in reign
Consumed by a spiral of guilt, his grief choking him enough to make it suffocating; like he's trying to breathe from the summit of a mountain, and Jax can't bring himself to raise his head and look at her again, not so soon. 'We exist, don't we? We can still feel.' Can they? Do any of them actually exist here, in this hellish, multicolored purgatory, with a ringleader made of TEETH dictating their every move, up to and including what comes out of their mouth?
If she is right, if that's true-- it almost makes it worse. That would mean that. . . they can FEEL what happens to them, acutely, until they lose all meaning of the word and are drawn into the darkness of abstraction. Did. . . did Ribbit feel it when she abstracted? Was she in pain, or was it fast? Jax chokes out a sob before he's able to claw it back, wrapping his arms tightly around his head, and burying his face in his knees as he curls himself into as tight a ball as possible against the wall.
That would mean that he destroyed his best friend-- a REAL person- and took away any happiness and hope she had left. Jax is well aware that he's a horrible person, and he already blames himself for what he did to her, but the idea that. . . that everything he's done, not just to her, but to the others, to Belle. . . that it's happening to REAL, actual people, with fear and emotions, and dreams, in real time? That makes it worse. How could anybody want to even breathe the same air as him?
Belle doesn't understand; she hasn't been here as long as they have, especially him. She hasn't seen anyone abstract. Not yet, anyway, though the possibility looms closer each and every day. He chalks her naivety in believing in HIM, of all people, in believing that he deserves her kindness, up to the fact that she simply doesn't understand, for his own sanity.
'Or maybe she's merely using you to feel less alone, for as long as she can, so she can avoid the inevitable-- '
Her comment about her roses is enough to break him out of his thoughts, just enough to make a broken sound that is a half-sob, half-chuckle leave him. He blinks open his eyes, mortified to find that they're blurry from tears. Jax still hasn't raised his head, trapped between his arms with his ears lying limply over the top of them, as if covering his face from prying eyes.
He sniffles as quietly as he can and brings one of his arms in to swipe the heel of his hands against his eyes, but when he speaks, there's a gravely quality to it that gives him away almost immediately. "A fake tour of the fake Eiffel Tower? Lead with that next time; we could've skipped this whole cringe little argument." When he finally manages to look at her, his pupils are thin slits, and his mouth sits in a thin, curved line; a ghost of his usual mask.
The topic of anything more than amicable is pointedly avoided, for now. Neatly sidestepped like a landmine that leads to a chain-reaction of explosions that you just know are going to sound in the near distance, the instant you take a wrong step.
Jax can't ever forgive himself for what he did to Ribbit, and history had almost come so close to repeating itself again; he can't possibly think he could enter into anything like . . . that . . . ever again, without knowing for a fact he would be dooming Belle before they even began.
It's for her own good, he tells himself, and then, to diffuse some of the tension, glances to his left where her shoe still lies, forgotten after striking its intended target. ". . . Anybody ever tell you, you've got a hell of a right arm? You'd give Rags a run for her money if you ever felt like showing off a little." The rabbit quips, shifting his gaze between them, before settling on Belle's.
Belle regards him with furrowed brow, chin resting on her folded knees. He curls in on himself and she can all but see the weight he has attached to his shoulders. She wishes she could take some of the load, if only for a little while.
Maybe in time. Nonetheless, he's still talking; a bit of his wry humour has even returned to a face otherwise wracked with grief. And he's shared so much already. She doesn't want to push him too hard too fast, not when the world has taught him that no one is truly trustworthy. Or permanent.
"Is it fake if it comes from my memories? Which are photographic, by the way," she softly counters, shrugging a shoulder. "We don't have to go there. I can re-create anything I've seen with my own eyes. London, Venice, Dublin, Berlin. Moscow. Stars, I've toured every city in the United States at least thrice. We could even have barbecue in Graceland if it'd help you put this behind us."
Her heart is still raw. Her normally bright brown eyes are dim and puffy from weeks spent crying-- mourning the potential loss of yet another person she's grown to care about. She isn't going to recover from this overnight, and she still doesn't fully forgive him, traumatic past or not, but--
She's still willing to try. She's missed him too much to contemplate the alternative.
Their eyes briefly meet, and the sensation is so much like coming home that fresh tears make her vision go blurry. She glances at the fallen shoe instead, crookedly smiling in attempt to distract Jax from her damp eyes.
"I told you I'm stronger than I look."
To further prove her point, she stands, rapidly blinking so her tears don't fall. She makes her way over to Jax and extends a hand.
Like a magnet, their eyes find each other again.
They're both a mess. Still, if she were braver, she'd tell him that he's still the most handsome man she'd ever seen.
"I don't know about you, but I'm tired of being in this room. Let's 'kiss and make up' as you put it, so Caine can let us out."
💀 ⸺ “ From my --!? ” [ he sputters incredulously, arms raised high as he tries to snatch the gun back from her. he even does a childish little HOP before giving up, realizing this will require WIT rather than force. if only she knew what other offending items he's got hidden away in here..! ]
“ C'MONNN, we're running a HIGH RISK kitchen here, and we can handle a little HEAT..! If ZOMBURGER doesn't invent projectile food, WHO will!? We've already been out in the field testing the air - time ... And the crew's been working SO HARD, think of those poor saps! Their DREAMS, All for NAUGHT? They waste enough time going to school for a BFA! ”
She raises the gun above her head while her free hand rests on a cocked hip. Belle raises a brow as she stares down at him, clearly unamused. "Then the other débiles who get this into their heads can deal with the concussions and blood and screaming. And fines. So many fines."
Stars, they might even take him to jail. I mean, those patties are rock solid. With enough strength, someone could die from a cracked skull.
"Look, let's make a deal. You let me take this far, far away and in return, I'll help you build something better. How about a trebuchet? It'll fit your theme better and provide ample photo opportunities. And, there won't be enough velocity to seriously injure anyone." She hopes.
But if she doesn't provide him with some alternative distraction, he'll do something even more absurd.
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Rate your muse's traits from 0 to 10
How to Play: repost and rate your muse's traits, then tag your followers.
compassion: 10/10. Belle is tender-hearted and values all life as sacred. She'd be a strict vegan if she wasn't so prone to anemia! The type of person often late to work because she decided to buy a homeless person lunch or help a loss child find their guardian.
bitterness: 6/10. It's a part of her that she doesn't like to show, even to those closest to her. She's bitter her mother valued revenge over her family. Bitter that she outlives everything she's ever cared about. And most of all, bitter that she doesn't truly fit in in either world, fae or human.
happiness: 7/10. She tries to stay optimistic. Her hobbies help. It's hard for her to be unhappy when there are so many new books to read.
politeness: 7/10. Polite, but will absolutely match energy. She's not a pushover.
chivalry: 7/10. She tends to be more chivalrous with those she's closest to. Bringing them home-cooked meals and desserts. Surprising them with flowers at work. Offering a massage after a long day. She's very thoughtful, but timid, too. Her whole life she's been told she's too much, so such behaviour will only emerge once a deep emotional bond is established.
pride: 5/10. Enough to have a strong sense of self-worth, but with a heavy load of doubts and social anxiety.
honesty: 9/10. Unless she has to hide something for her safety or for another's, she's the autistic brand of blunt.
bravery: 9/10. Every day is a battle that she is determined to win, or die trying.
recklessness: 3/10. Only if her curiosity overrides her common sense.
ambition: 4/10. In most verses, she's already done the queen thing. She's quite content with a library, garden, and red wine.
loyalty: 9/10. Once she has decided that you are a part of her life, that's it.
love: 9/10. A hopeless romantic and poly friendly. It's easy for her to fall in love, but difficult for her to commit and be vulnerable.
sense of family: 5/10. Found family? Yes. Her parents? Ehhhhh.
attractiveness: 10/10. She's not vain. She just knows she's conventionally attractive to a lot of people.
agility: 8/10. She's half-fae. She doesn't walk. She floats.
sex drive: 7/10. High, but she'll often be too distracted by her current books or research projects to act on it.
Tagged by: @whccares Tagging: @jaxasstm, @n6wheres, @spxnglr, @stonejarz, @lowplacez, @sillymuses, @twogruesome, @kingrammer, & you!
Make or break keeping the information close to his chest had been devastating , regardless of intention . Time was their compatriot that had brought them this kindred bond . He much rather hold her closer than his past , letting it take flight has allowed them this moment .
The warming scent of pritcheture . He puts a incorporeal gloved hand to her shoulder the other gestured as he pondered . ❝ New . CAINE is new not like any child but like someone who never learnt the things we know . ❞ He's very careful because CAINE need not be infantalised . He was capable of the cognizance of an adult . The guilty diversion of his gaze .
₊ ♔ ๋࣭ ⭑ ❝ I miss them inexplicably . We used to be close BUT being condemned to the folly of SCRATCH's && myself's terrible folly left us astray . My wife . She stood by me even when it was difficult . ❞ ཐིཋྀ ⭑₊
Her eyes crease with concern, even as something deep within her clenches at the mention of his wife. She'd known about the queen from the other members of the circus-- mainly Jax telling her not to get so close because Kinger was married. It's not jealousy that causes this heartache. No, it's a sense of inadequacy.
"I know I'm... well. I don't want you to think I am trying to replace any of them, especially not your wife. I know they will always have a special place in your heart. But for as long as you'll have me, I'll be here to comfort and care for you."
Belle reassuringly squeezes one of his hands as she offers a crooked smile. "Besides, I'm far too curious and stubborn to abstract. Now that Caine has been deleted, we can remake this place into something better. I'd be loathe to miss that."
@bcckishrose said: “Tonight’s so quiet, it’s creepy.” ꒷꒦꒷꒦༉‧🕯️‧₊˚.THE DARKNESS SEEMED TO BREATHE . .
The comment earns a quiet snort from Ava, tempted to tell the other that the lack of noise is probably the most normal thing that's going on at the present moment. She was standing here, all haunted, after all.
Not that it was common knowledge to anyone that wasn't herself or Odin, but it still made her laugh all the same. She shoots a crooked smile over, before asking, "It's not that bad though, is it?" Ava then turns, looking wistfully up towards at the stars. "When 's quiet like this, it feels... I dunno, right?" It's not the endless vacuum of space quiet, but if one was more used to hearing noises associated with populated areas, she would understand why that would be off-putting. "Would talking help? I know sometimes that helps people, right?"
How to make someone so young understand. Belle was a thousand years past any sensible expiration date. Her planet, her home country, all of it had been left to the ashes of time, and here she was, a perpetual remnant of everything she had lost.
She absent-mindedly rubs her left arm, in which the last remaining rose of Auvergne is embedded. It's the only thing keeping her alive. She's often tempted to claw it out and succumb, but something stops her every time. Curiosity? Stubbornness? Fear? Either way, she still remains, an immortal nomad amongst the stars.
"I wouldn't know where to begin," Belle replies, wryly smiling. "I'm from a place full of sound that no longer exists. I suppose... I just miss it sometimes. The birds, the trees, the sound of others speaking my native tongue. It's been a difficult adjustment, not having familiar ground under my feet."
@jaxasstm continued from here
She still doesn't truly know what possessed her to do this. She'd been fond of Jax's wry humour and brutal honesty from the start, certainly; their company was enjoyable. But she'd never quite had the courage to do anything about it. Why would she? Compared to the other members of the circus, she was a dull, prudish bookworm.
Well, maybe not so prudish now.
She loosely wraps her arms around his neck, body arching against soft lavender-coloured fur. She sinks into him as if she's drowning, and exploring his mouth is the only way she can breathe. She releases them with another playful bite to bottom lip before kissing a searing trail down chin and onto neck. Her lips linger before her teeth latch onto him and she begins to suck.
Would a hickey even be visible? She's certainly curious to find out.
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YOUR MUSE'S FRAGRANCE ;
@heedingcalls continued from here
A part of Belle questions what on earth she was feeding this plant to make it thrive to this degree, but any misgivings she might have had are quickly overshadowed by her insatiable curiosity. "Fascinating! I'm a bit of a plant person myself, although I mostly favour Rosa gallica. They remind me of home."
She grants the towering flytrap a soft smile before turning to Pamela and extending a hand. "I'm Belle Beaumont. And I must say, it's an honour to finally meet such an accomplished botanist. I think I've read every academic article of yours at least twice. Oh, and not to forget your environmental activism! It's inspiring. I think the world ought to have more good green life in it."
@spxnglr asked: did i interrupt something?
The brunette stills, wide-eyed. What a mess for someone to walk in on! There's red wine all over the walls, broken teacups and upended bookshelves. She herself is levitating mid-air, probably high enough for this stranger to tell what colour underwear she's wearing.
Still, she manages to assemble whatever dignity she has left by crossing her arms over her chest and glaring down at him. "I assure you, Monsieur, there is no need for your services. I have everything under control."
Shock slowly morphs into disbelief and outrage as he realizes what she's doing when she bends down, and he takes a step back to put some distance between them, despite how little space he has to maneuver in the small room. This time, he has the foresight to see the projectile coming, however, and Jax is able to dodge the shoe by leaning to the side-- his glare remaining trained on her while she berates him until he straightens himself up once more.
"You must be misremembering. I didn’t do any of that." He taunts, the corner of his mouth twisting into a smirk as he intentionally gaslights her, his mind working a mile a minute to figure out the best way to turn her own words against her. The fact of the matter is, Jax had been seeking her out, willingly partnering with her on adventures, using her either as a accomplice or a focus for his pranks— and for a while it felt like they've known each other all their lives. He couldn't imagine a day he would go without talking to her, and yet, the realization that he'd shown her such vulnerability makes him feel like throwing himself out of a moving truck.
Belle really had seen right through him.
Speaking of, when Belle pales in reaction to what he'd said, the rabbit freezes, knowing all at once what a mistake it was to let all of that slip. Way to go, dumbass. You pretty much just gave yourself away. He inwardly scolds himself, and his hands ball into angry fists at his sides to hide the way they start to shake as he vehemently turns his head away from her, to stare at the opposite wall.
He can't bring himself to believe her— he can't find hope within her words, because believing her means opening a door to a world of emotions and relationships that he has absolutely no hope of learning how to navigate. No one is supposed to care about him, he doesn’t know how to behave like a normal person— because he isn’t one. He’s nothing but a cartoon rabbit, now. An archetype.
Jax can feel his breathing quicken, his chest rising and falling in quick bursts, and he scoffs to let some of the air out, annoyed with himself for his slip up, annoyed with her for being so patient, so . . . understanding. Annoyed with the entire situation. Belle had no idea what she was signing up for with him, the rabbit realizes.
For all intents and purposes he should come with a warning label-- and Jax belatedly realizes with a low, amused snort that he already does, and its name is Ragatha. "If that's what you really think that, that I'm worth anything?” His head turns back to her, mouth set in a determined line.
“—You're even dumber than you look." It comes out far less scathing than he intends it to, especially when he has to dodge a second shoe, and he ends up glowering at her until she slides to the floor in front of him.
"No one ever misses me, no one wants to 'spend time' with me-- not willingly! Ask anyone, they’ll tell you you’re nuts! I didn’t take you for a masochist, but, you said it, not me. There's nothing 'redeemable' about this mess," Jax gestures towards himself, self depreciation making his tone heavy.
"None of this is even real! But if it is? What's the point of caring, of tearing yourself up like this over someone like ME when you could do so much better, and when we're just all gonna end up abstracted anyways! You’re gonna abstract, or I’m gonna abstract, and then what are we left with?”
By the end of his little rant, Jax has reclaimed his position against his own wall, the fight drained out of him, and he lets his head drop into his hands, fingers absentmindedly tugging at his ears as if to comfort himself. “I can’t do it again.” It comes out weak, his voice warbling. Pathetic.
Her anger simmers down to a half-buried ember as she continues to watch him bluster. A few weeks ago, his taunting would have brought forth tears, but now, she merely listens in silence, doe-brown eyes creased around the corners with clear concern.
I can't do it again.
Instinctively, she reaches out to comfort him before freezing and pulling her hand protectively back to her chest. This is the most truthful, the most raw, he's been with her since their big fight, and she doesn't want to ruin what little progress he's showing by being maudlin.
A deep inhale, and then she responds softly, "We exist, don't we? That's real. We still have hopes and dreams, emotions. We can still feel. That's got to count for something. I know this isn't the best place to live out the rest of our days but I'm willing to make it work. I'm not... I wouldn't-"
Belle trails off, attempting to gather her scattered thoughts. She won't comment on it, but she now knows he lost someone dear to him from abstraction.
She's no stranger to loss. Stars, there was once a time when she thought that hiding away from the world would solve all of her problems, but it didn't.
Loneliness only caused the wounds to fester.
"I'm not going anywhere. Questionable taste in men aside, I'd be loathe to leave the roses I planted." The ghost of a smile toys with the edges of her mouth. "And I was planning on a tour of the Eiffel Tower once you snapped out of this."
She leans her head against the plush wall and glances upward, teeth worrying the inside of her cheek. "Even now, I--... wouldn't mind being nuts with you. If that's your choice."
She can practically hear Ragatha's disappointment now. She knows nothing about this is logical. Jax is right; she can do far better than a gaslighting, emotionally constipated rabbit in overalls. But nonetheless, he is what she wants. She can't just forget the ease with which they bonded, how they could talk for hours without getting bored. There was a seed there, and if it was only given some love and care, she knew it would grow into something beautiful.
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“Her quickness of mind was like a hiss, a dart, a lethal bite.”
— Elena Ferrante, from “My Brilliant Friend”
[ she shakes her head at the comment, ' if you aren't tired of me yet. ' unthinkable! but the interest in her job flatters her, overshadowing reading any social cue indicating that her date may be nervous. Elle perks up at the mention of work, the most comforting thing to her while topside thus far -- beside Belle's company, of course. ]
“ Yes, I have been treated well by my co-workers. I believe the majority find the paperwork droll, but it is second nature to me. Conversely, I am learning to use a computer system, which has been … fun. I still get to use my hands ; I enjoy keeping them busy. ” [ she raises her hands to give them a little shake, an attempt at being playful. would it be too odd to mention she has never used technology before arriving up here? maybe she has already assumed, by the way she doesn't own a cell phone? she would like to eventually, so they can continue to speak when they are apart. ]
Even if Elle did not reassure her directly, Belle still feels a bit of tension subside. Computers. Science. Capitalism. All were subjects she had studied and knew plenty about; the chances of her appearing foolish had significantly decreased.
"All this modern technology must be so strange to you," she responds. Sympathy creeps into her soft smile. "I remember being shocked at my first phonograph! And to think, you're dealing with computers and online spreadsheets." It speaks volumes about Elle's intelligence and determination.
"Have you set up a personal email yet? Probably a silly question given that you don't yet have a cell phone..." She trails off, blushing. "But I could help you. With technology. If you'd like me to. Since I have more experience."
Merde. There she goes again.
