Can I help you?
It was the first time he appreciated those words in their entirety. As he heard her speak them, he realised, they were all she said, all she ever offered - to help, to aid, to mend, even if she hadn't the foggiest idea on how exactly to achieve it. It was always the first words on her lips, every time he had met her, every time he had seen her, always she simply wanted to know what service she could provide to others. He could see it now, the selflessness, the maternal protectiveness, the sheer want and desire to only improve the lives of others, no matter her own circumstances. Those piercing lavender eyes drank her expression in now, looking through the salty brine that washed over her hide, analysing the tired, haggard way she carried herself. And he wondered, had she always been this way, had he always been blind to it? Had he only ever seen the beauty that was the way she was put together, the rich mahogany of her skin, the voluptuous curves of her bodice? He saw her through a different set of lenses now, a renewed focus, and he found himself lost amongst the wonder that was her kindness, her charity, her willingness to help again and again, no matter the foe, no matter the circumstance. Would that he could give the orb to her, he could trust that it would have the most promising upbringing - but he was the one who had promised to the doe that he would try, he was the one to face the dark, to defend the orb and the doe, to explain what he thought it was to be a mother, a parent.. Had Lena been there, he was sure she would have won it, for who represented the epitome of a mother, a parent, a healer, than she?
He compared himself to her, his ragged, torn, burned form, looking to her pristine bodice, her unmarred façade and her saddened expression, and wondered, how had he earned this fate? For once in his life, he felt grateful to be alive, despite the burns upon his face, despite the curse that stole away his true body. Imogen came near, and though he winced as he did so, he smiled kindly to her, bowing his crown in greeting, though still leaning over the orb he was given to guard. He allowed concern to fill him, concern that was not for his own predicament, but for the girl's, the youthful and charming Lena's - what caused her eyes to be so damp? Was it just the ocean that washed over her frame moments before, or was it tears of sadness, of happiness, of wonder? What caused her brow to frown with the worries of inner turmoil - what inner turmoil tormented Lena? Was it similar to his own? Were they more alike than he cared to admit, to recognise? The vixen danced back to her bonded as Lena's cloven feet stepped upon the sandy shore, and the broken steed drank her sunlit form fully. He was so enraptured, so enamoured, that he neglected his own worries, he forgot the curse that afflicted his bodice. Without realising it himself, Lena had already helped him, by giving him something other than himself to think about - her. He would strive to be like her, though he had no idea how to, where to start.. His gaze flicked down to the orb that rested between his bent and aching forelimbs, wondering if he could ever be worthy of its ownership.
"Perhaps you can, child." The voice that spoke was one of an aged man, a deep, gravelly voice that was a far stretch from the usual smooth, strong lyrics his true form uttered. The way he spoke was kindly and warm, even with a touch of affection as he called her child - it was not meant to be derogatory, merely added so that she would not question the age that appeared to afflict him and his bodice. A small, half smile curved the side of his face that was not charred and bleeding, the pain remembered as he made the motion. A grimace twisted his features, a wince that made his entire form crumple before her. Breaths came faster, as his predicament consumed him once more - selfish is as selfish does, the witch's words hummed in his crown, again and again, always reminding him of his failings. No, he was defiant in return, I will not be weak. Not any more. He held himself as still as the tremors would allow, before raising his gaze once more to the belle who offered herself to him. She was the definition of selfless in his eyes, and he would do everything he could to emulate her, to help her.. If only he knew where to begin. "Please," was all he murmured, at a loss. Help me, so that I can help you.
@[Lena]
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