#littlclctte

            ❛   oh   ------   you  mean  it?   you  really  think  i  could  work  here?   ❜   jubilation  embodied !   long  lashes  framing  doe  eyes  flutter,   grin  of  apollo’s  own  crafting  illuminating  delicate  features.   unapparent  by  rags  clothing  form,   sullied  by  the  soot  of  menial  labor   &   haphazardly  patched  where  worn  through,   she  possesses  an  enviable  talent  for  sewing.   aside  from  the  odd  job  bestowed  by  well-wishers  around  town,   it  remains  largely  unacknowledged.   to  obtain  a  proper  income  from  the  skill,   to  work  with  such  a  kind  soul   ------   it  almost  seems  too  good  to  be  true.   certainly  she’d  have  to  make  some  excuse  as  to  her  absence  from  the  chateau,   but  perhaps  she  might  eventually  accumulate  enough  to  provide  her  own  dowry  to  a  potential  suitor,   no  longer  need  to  rely  on  the  flippant  whims  of  her  step-mother.   ❛   it  would  have  to  be  kept  from  my  family,   but  i  would  be  more  than  glad  for  the  opportunity,   christine.   thank  you.   ❜

... she wouldn’t enjoy it as much as you did.

✴ @littlclctte

Claire wtf is that imposter

The sun shined through the clouds in the sky, yet it only cast a subdued light upon the otherwise dark castle. What little light broke past the thick clouds, however, bounced off of snow and ice, making the misty grounds beautiful in their own way. If only such beauty meant something to him.

He can be found looking out across the frost-covered land, peering through the broken glass of a balcony located in the ever mysterious western wing of the castle. Even through thick fur and the layers of tattered fabric that make his robes, he goes hardly untouched by the cold. An opaque cloud of air appears and dissipates in seconds as he exhales through his nose.

In a huff, he turns away from the window, passing a lingering glance at the once- blooming rose atop its table. He seems almost frozen for a moment, eyes fixated on the flower protected beneath the glass bell jar. He can see the petals wilting, ready to give in to their weariness and fall. A sadness is reflected in his eyes and it only grows while he looks upon the symbol of his cursed fate. He shakes his head quickly, closing his eyes tight for a moment.

After shoving the doors his chambers open and exiting, he plans to make his way back to the ground floor; not before he finds himself almost colliding with a familiar face, that is.

As soon as he sees her, the Beast halts. His frown is very nearly an instantaneous reaction to her presence, as his frustration grows by the second, although he attempts to contain his anger for the time being.

His voice is low, almost a soft growl as he grumbles,