He reached so easily across the space that separated them, unthinking, uncaring, merely assuming she would accept his caress. He had forgotten the body he wore, the rotted, aged, accursed mask that cloaked his entire body, exposing him for the filth he truly was, the ugly, beastly form that he loathed with all his being. As he felt her silken skin with his wrinkled, whiskery muzzle, he recalled that something was amiss - that she saw him as a stranger, a new, different being, where he saw her as a creature he had yet misjudged. But what of her opinion of him? Lena had always asked him directly - what ails you? - he recalled with an internal shudder, she had known from the start that something was wrong with him, she had pinpointed him from the get-go. How could he have gotten her so wrong, when she so easily figured him out?
The belle leaned away from him, and he remembered what it was that decorated his body, the cruel jape that witch had played upon him, the ugly mask that twisted his handsome features into an unrecognisable blur. He wanted to cringe himself, to bend inwards and away, to leave her just as she wished to be left, revulsed by his appearance, by his brash touch. How was he to ever forget about what he was, the monster, the beast, the terror that covered him? He almost scowled, angry at himself - but then, he saw, she looked to him once more, and he realised what a fool he was being.
So selfish, he berated himself, the habit of thinking only of himself a habit so deeply rooted - it had been the cause of his curse, his existence. It would take many years of practise to break into more charming, pleasant demeanour. No time like the present to start, he grew more determined now, hope relighted, renewed. Deep, liquid eyes peered into her own as she proffered her glance, they were the only part of him that did not change - they appeared young and vibrant against his wrinkled, aged façade, and when he grew young again, they appeared haunted and troubled. He was fervent in his attention to her again, easily becoming enraptured as he embraced the sensation of thinking about someone besides himself for the first time in his life. So easily she accepted him, treated him well, kindly, healed him where she could, and even confided in him, a stranger, an unknown, a beast that could prove to be friend or foe yet to her. He had to become more like her - and he had to protect her, preserve her, for she was his hope, what he aspired to become. Without her as his guide, how would he ever find his way?
The question she asked was presented with tones that betrayed the pain she felt, the torment she suffered from, and it made him wonder, just what did this girl do to earn such guilt? What burdens did she bear upon herself to feel so wretched, to ask such a question? A trickle of paranoia entered his mind, but he tried to ignore it - did she ask the question with hopes of exposing him? Was she playing some cruel jape, some wicked trick to ridicule and mock him? No, I trust her, he surprised himself with the thought, the grit and determination to embrace her into his life. Have you ever hated what you were becoming?
It was a loaded question - how did he answer it? With honesty? With an open and involved explanation of his life up until this moment? Or with a consoling lie, a falsity that might offer her fleeting, momentary comfort?
"Every day, and every night." He murmured, quietly, the honesty carved into every syllable, every breath. He hated his curse, the changes it enforced upon his body. But now, more than anything, he hated what he realised he was - a selfish, foolish monster. But he was resolved to fix it now, he had made the decision, he held the hope in his heart, and maybe, one day, his curse would be lifted as his reward. But what curse could afflict her to make her feel such self loathing? He dared to lean towards her once more, to offer another gentle nudge, a small and hopeful smile tilting his cracked and broken maw. "The power to change is within yourself." Stronger this time, he tried to offer some words of wisdom, some semblance of hope and kindness, something that could inspire her just as she had inspired him.
So enraptured he was, he neglected to notice the subtle motions within the orb that rested at his feet.
@[Lena]
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