R I S E

send one to have our muses meet for the first time.

“Sorry, were you just talking to me?”

“I think you dropped this.”

“You look lost. Need some help?”

“I don’t usually talk to strangers, but…”

“You’re sitting in my spot.”

“Whoa! Careful!”

“We’ve never met, right? You seem familiar.”

“Is that seat taken?”

“Sorry, I think I just spilled something on you.”

“You’re blocking the doorway.”

“Were you just staring at me?”

“Excuse me, do you know the time?”

“Wait — are you the person I’m supposed to meet?”

“I’ve been sent to find you.”

“Please don’t be alarmed, but I think we have the same bag.”

“Do you work here?”

“I’m fairly certain that’s mine.”

“You’ve got something on your face.”

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Do you know the way to ___?”

“You’re hurt. Do you need help?”

“That’s a fine ___ (cloak/hat/book/etc.). Where did you get it?”

“This might sound strange, but can I hide behind you for a moment?”

“You look like you could use a friend.”

“I think your dog just stole my lunch.”

“Hey, you dropped your coin purse.”

“I think we’re stuck in here together.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear, but…”

“Are you the new neighbor?”

“First time in town?”

“I’m not sure if this belongs to you, but…”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“I think you’re in the wrong place.”

“You seem… out of place.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you following me?”

“That was a close call.”

“Not to alarm you, but someone’s watching you.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“You look like you’re in trouble.”

“Was that your doing back there?”

“You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“That was impressive. How’d you manage it?”

“I’m guessing you’re not here by accident.”

“Do I want to know what just happened?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.”

“Is it always this strange around here?”

“I have a feeling we’re about to become acquainted whether we like it or not.”

"She glanced this way, I thought I saw. And when we touched, she didn't shudder at my paw. No, it can't be; I'll just ignore. But then, she's never looked at me that way before."

~~~

And, finally, we're at the end of my series of tributes to the wonderful fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast. Book-ended with Disney's definitive version~!

See more only on my Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/mistytang

Hellboy's hand on her wrist was not the stone hold she was used to, when he felt so inclined to stop her outbursts. It lacked his usual resolve... which only served to further annoy her.

He wanted this! He as much as said so — so why still her hand?

❝ This is not what you do, ❞ she echoed, flipping the sai she still held in her free hand before dropping it to the dirt at their feet. Tension still held taut in her bones, eyes narrowing as she stared back. ❝ But it is what I do. ❞

Mileena let the statement hang for only a moment before moving swiftly — kicking the sai up from the ground and, in a second movement, kicking it toward her unfortunate victim, embedding the steel in their back... all without ever breaking Hellboy's hold on her.

❝ Now I'm done. ❞

@reanimatedmuses || cont.

The target was... semi-intelligent, according to reports. But malicious. It hunted for sport as much as to feed. The Bureau wanted it alive for studying. Hellboy would have a bear of a time explaining this.

But hell with it. He'd had worse things to report, and he couldn't lie to himself and say he was going to shed any tears for the bastard lying there with a sai puncturing his heart.

It had taken time, for her to understand the purpose of the darkness in the Castle. Indeed, it seemed that every corner of her expansive new home had been coated in shadow and mystery, but much of that had been chased away by nothing more than her presence.

While shadows and silence had been frightening at first, she had grown to recognize their comfort... and there were places where it wasn't her right to chase them away.

So, she embraced them.

A smile curves at her lips at the near-silent assent, the way that he moved just enough to leave space for her — a space she was grateful to accept, sitting beside him with little concern for impropriety. It was only the two of them here, after all.

Of course, it was difficult to read in the dark. In a rare display, Belle had arrived not with a book tucked under her arm, but another task that required doing — a bit of mending that she'd been putting off, a task she knew well enough could be left to the others... but she never had been one for having people wait on her.

Silently, comfortably, she began to find her way along the hem of the skirt she'd brought along to begin repairing the hole.

@reanimatedmuses || cont.

It was because they always worried, he realized. At best, worried about his well-being, or the curse... At worst, worried about his temper. All his own fault, of course.

Belle didn't seem to worry at all. Right now, she gave off such a patient, contented air. In turn, it made the Beast feel more at ease. And he found he liked this idea of comfortable silence.

Still, he couldn't help himself for long. Soon, gently clearing his throat. "...What is that you're doing?"

She holds tight to him, despite herself and despite the fear that rises like bile in her throat. There was something unfamiliar in his sneer, now, and something yet all-too familiar — but if he felt as though he must be monstrous, then she supposed she had more than enough experience handling monsters.

Because he is not the only, rose to her throat but did not reach her tongue, a pitiful argument that would only further aggravate the already tense situation they found themselves. Because this won't fix it. Because brief pain is not worth a life.

She said none of it, and none of it felt as true as she wished it did.

❝ Because if you kill 'im, then you're no better. ❞ It falls from her lips, barely above a whisper, a confession granted only to his ears — barely audible above the strangled breathing and pitiful noises coming from her customer. ❝ An' I know you're better than 'im. ❞

Lucy's done this dance before, and with a partner far less willing to listen than the man before her now. The hand on his arm squeezes, though she makes no attempt to disengage the two.

@reanimatedmuses || cont.

He was no better than this, at all. In fact, the murder of this lecherous drunk may well be the least egregious act of violence in all his existence.

Yet Lucy believed otherwise... She knew not the murderous past which haunted him. And the thought of breaking this illusion, showing himself for just what he was... The satisfaction of feeling this wicked man's bone's snapping within his grasp would have been far too fleeting a joy compared to the endless misery he would have felt to lose Lucy's faith.

At last, the iron grip of enormous fingers released, and the man was dropped to the ground gasping for breath. He would escape with no more than deep black bruises on his skin. Still the Creature knelt down, snarling one simple word. "Leave."

The man gave no argument. With a shudder, he dragged himself beyond the monster's grasp before rising to his feet, darting away into the night.

A breath escaped the Creature as the rage flowed away, like frost melting in the light of the sun. He turned to Lucy, his scarred face a mask of concern and regret. Would she ever look at him the same again?

{ MISSALLANEA. 1. a collection of unrelated items, objects, or writings. 2. an over-caffeinated theatre kid. 3. three possums in a trench coat. 4. a writer of insufferable prose. 5. the patron saint of no impulse control. forever adding more muses from obscure sources. 18+. as adored by missa. }