#heroiique

@heroiique

The Beast prowled through the woods, surprisingly silent for a creature of her size and girth. Like any proper beast, she hunted for her meals--and like any proper hunter, she knew which prey was best and easiest to take down. Which was why she passed by the young, strong grown buck watching his herd and the doe with a nursing fawn. If the doe had been alone, perhaps the Beast might have gone after it, but she knew to kill the herd’s young would be to kill the herd’s future, and that would deprive her of her main source of prey, given enough time.

She found her meal at the edge of the glade where the herd grazed, and wasted no time in pouncing.

When she had finished her meal, she headed home, leaving the remains for the wolves and scavengers. While she didn’t care whether she was covered in blood from her hunt, she knew her servants would--after years under this curse, the Beast cared more for what her servants thought of her, despite growing more the Beast every day--so she paused by the stream that ran through her territory to clean the gore from her claws and muzzle.

No sooner had she returned home to the cold, dark castle that had once been so bright and full of life, than the Beast caught another scent on the chill wind--there was an intruder in her home.

A low growl rumbled in her chest. She could smell iron and gunpowder, salt sweat, leather, and mud.

A hunter.

{Oh man, I could write a small novel on Gafou post-curse. And I’d regret all of it}

DO IT. DO IT NOW.

@heroiique

She was prepared to make a sarcastic remark, it was on the tip of her tongue and almost past her lips, then she caught sight of the others face and Charlotte thought better of it; Gaston was being serious. 

The blonde hummed softly as she thought, eyes focused on the horizon before them. Charlotte sat up from her previous position and drew her legs close to her chest before wrapping her arms around them securely and resting her chin on her knees, eyes finally traveling up to the others face. 

“Even then, there are some things you can’t control- such as emotions.” She pointed out, but nodded to show her agreement with his statement. Charlotte’s father had told her many times himself that there weren’t many things in life other than oneself that a person could fully control.

Send ♡ if you’d be interested in discussing a ship between our muses | Accepting

-pushes my undying love for PrincePrick into the closet and holds the door closed-

@heroiique asked; “That wasn’t a question. That was a statement.”

Ruby stood, arms crossed and mouth slightly ajar, as the man in front of her demanded her help. “And what makes you think i will?” Ruby had always liked the idea of helping people, hell she had even helped Rumplestiltskin in his time of need, but she would not help someone whom would be so rude. 

Pushing her basket onto her arm, she turned away from the man. “If you have heard of me, then clearly you have also heard about my...” Ruby held for a dramatic pause. “Switched personality.” Taking a few steps forward she began talking again. “And that i do not follow the demands of a man whom i have never met.” This man seemed different, troubled by something, her heart yearned for him to find what he looked for, yet she knew if he kept this attitude up, he was to get nowhere in this neck of the woods.

"Please," David waved him off at the respectful title he still had the occasional trouble believing belonged to him. It was something that still didn't fit right in his mind, like a slightly warped puzzle piece that just didn't connect with the pieces around it. "Call me-," a slight hesitation, a fraction of a second, "-James." That, too, was a piece that didn't fit, but it was as much a part of him now as anything else.

He doubted the other man would call him James. He seemed a man who adhered strictly to a code, and he was certain that code included addressing royals by their proper titles and no less. Still, he at least had to offer. As Gaston beckoned, he strode out into the yard, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face despite the early hour.

"You have quite a skill." He told the knight, smiling encouragingly.

He had a deep respect for anyone who could handle a sword well, knowing how difficult the training could be. Gaston seemed a man who could make it look as easy as breathing, which, to his eye, made him extremely skilled, and extremely dedicated to the art.

“Do you absolutely have to follow me so close?” Was he being too insensitive? It hardly mattered-- at the moment they were dealing with something terribly unnatural and no doubt alien in origin. He just had to figure out what it was.

It wouldn’t have been too difficult-- but he had this effortlessly charming and unfortunately stubborn local to deal with on top of it all.

The psychic paper had indeed done its work in dissuading curious passers by, but his current companion had seen something else on the enhanced paper. A mark of nobility-- most dire yet, an unaccompanied nobleman. One whom he, as a knight, was honor bound to protect.