howl.

Adam Dubois. 30. Lone wolf. Resident of Aldora. I enjoy a life of solitude; "reclusive" might as well be my middle name.

[danselaesmeralda-blog]

“I understand the sentiment. Especially after the last few months. I guess people still want to feel normal, celebrating whatever they’re celebrating, just to take some small amount of control over their lives. Even if it feels more like the opposite is true.”

[adamsbeast-blog]

“It’s nice to know that at least one other person around here understands my view...everywhere I look, people are singing carols and knitting sweaters as if the entire world hasn’t turned itself on its head right in front of us.”

“I just...don’t see a point in pretending. Not anymore.”

[adamsbeast-blog]

“The last thing I want is to push through another droll holiday season. Celebration feels hollow at a time like this.”

[celinnedahl-blog]

House Call || Celine & Adam

[celinnedahl-blog]

Watching Adam hold his tongue was like waiting for a volcano to explode. It was going to happen at some point; it was simply a matter of when. In a way, she had trained him remarkably well to behave in such a manner. Celine doubted that the gruff man even realized it; how well he danced to the tune that she played. 

The two of them were birds of a feather regardless of how much the wolf wanted to deny it. Adam was like a brash, lupine version of her younger self before she had learned the harsh ways of the world. The only difference was how they decided to handle their given stations in life. Whereas she had learned to accept her demons, the boy continued to deny his. He even went so far as to suppress his instincts just to keep that one human scrap of himself alive. It was pathetic to see him restraining himself so; a waste of talent that could be of far greater use if he simply learned to let go of himself.

Luckily for him, Celine was an excellent teacher. He would learn soon enough.

The faerie crossed her arms as he questioned her motives, letting out a derisive snort. If he was trying to get some sort of moral argument out of her, he would have to do better than that. “Of course it is. Try not to ask redundant questions, love.” Had he thought that she had started a war for fun? Perhaps. It was clear that Adam had developed a rather poor impression of her over the years of their association. It hardly mattered to her, since he couldn’t do anything about it. “This is for the benefit of our kind after all- the freaks of Verden.” Celine answered bluntly, daring him to object.

“I didn’t force myself into your life. Your family invited me. Isn’t that the most delectable detail? They were the ones to seek me out. I would have hardly cared about your limited life otherwise.” Celine gave Adam a shrug, brushing off his criticisms as she would a bug that had decided to land on her. He truly had no idea of his own insignificance, wallowing in his self-pity as he always did. Of course he thought her life revolved around making him miserable, though she had far more irons in the fire than just the Dubois estate. “I gave your mother everything that she wanted. It’s hardly my fault that the magic I spoke of was of a less savoury nature and she believed otherwise. But it is hers for trying to steal from me what I was rightfully due. It’s what you get for trying to cheat the fates.” How blind was the pup before her, to think that his mother was the kind and faultless woman who he thought her to be? Celine had seen her for what she was; a coward and a thief, looking to run away with Celine’s property rather than pay the hefty price for her dearest wish. Such was the bias of a child to its parent, she supposed.

Her serpentine grin spread further, chuckling as he boldly declared that there was nothing else she could rob him of. It was the gospel of the woefully ignorant, who knew nothing about the liberties that he had at hand, and how easily they could disappear. “I beg to differ, dear. There are plenty of things I have left to take from you, should I be so inclined. You should count your blessings while you still have them.” She cautioned, a veiled threat behind her words. If he wanted to try her, she would have been happy to oblige. Perhaps then he would realize how much she had spoiled him as a youth. “It really isn’t all that bad. If I hadn’t been around to restrain you, the villagers would have sent their finest hunters on you years ago. Do you really think they would have let you near them if they knew your true nature? If they were aware of what you are like without your leash?” Celine shot back, creeping closer to the werewolf who couldn’t stand to look at her. “You’re quite better off without them, though the grass does seem greener on their side of the fence.”

But it was his quiet declaration that had her reeling with laughter, tinged with the sort of madness that only came from being warped several times over. “Oh Adam, who said anything about sending you off to kill people? I know you don’t have the stomach for that. Besides, it would be a waste of your one redeemable gift.” Again, she didn’t clarify what she had meant, letting the wolf figure it out for himself like the clever boy he was.

[adamsbeast-blog]

Celine Dahl was the worst sort of witch imaginable--if Adam Dubois had ever had the slightest inkling or cause for belief that magic was fantastic and wholesome, those sensations were trampled to death by Maleficent’s mere presence. If there had ever been a shot in hell that Adam would look kindly--or even the least bit favorably--upon magic and everything that came with it, those hopes had been dashed six feet under by everything Celine had done. And not just to him, but to his friends, his family, his entire estate...the Dubois heir lived a lonely, agonized life, and while he knew deep in his heart that it all came back to the same deranged wolf who had attacked him in the woods so many years ago, he also knew that much of his suffering had been extended and amplified by the faerie who was currently lounging in his parlor. Celine had taken his very real suffering and pain and had made a mockery of it; what were human emotions and agony to a soulless, black-hearted bitch, after all?

Who said she even thought of humans as remotely worthy of basic decency in the first place?

When Celine dared to comment that this war--this ridiculous thing she was waging against all of the humans who dwelt in the various kingdoms of Verden--was one of mercy for her fellow monsters and misunderstood creatures of the night (himself included), Adam couldn’t hide the snort or eye roll that came so quickly and easily to him. He scowled at Celine to illustrate just how little he believed her bullshit stories and rolled his neck, trying to work the kink out in his upper back and shoulders.

Trying to refrain himself from ripping the bitch to shreds, as his instincts were practically begging for him to do.

“You? Doing something that benefits someone aside from yourself?” he barked, his voice cool and low as he addressed the dark faerie’s claims. “Don’t make yourself out to be some sort of martyr or savior for the ‘freaks’ of Verden, as you so eloquently put it. The more selfishly you can make decisions, the happier you are. I’ve known you for far too long, Maleficent...you can’t fool me into believing you wage a war for anyone other than yourself and your own sadistic, twisted needs.” Adam shook his head then, grunting and tightening the muscles in his arms. His fingers were trembling as he glared at the witch before him; a part of him dared her to make the first move...to attack and lash out at him so he’d have a good reason for tearing her limb from limb.

But he had the sickening feeling that Maleficent would sooner watch him struggle and crumble under the weight of his own anger than provoke him physically.

“You lied to my mother, and you hardly helped my situation in the process,” Adam snapped, his lips curling back to bare his fangs in what was surely a feral, downright rabid facial expression. It was at times like this, when his anger was at an all-time high, that Adam felt the beast inside of him pulsating and throbbing with anger, desperate to break loose and wreak havoc on anything and everyone within reach. His hands twitched from where they were folded in front of his chest, and a low, guttural growl escaped his lips. His hackles were raised, that was for sure, and the werewolf narrowed his eyes into vicious, accusatory slits as she deflected any and all blame off of herself and onto his mother. No, no, no; Maleficent had ruined so much of his life already. He refused to let her try and tarnish his deceased mother’s memory, too.

Adam turned away when she detailed the dozens of ways she could drastically decrease his quality of life, going as far as to taunt him with talk of the villagers in town, and how they’d all treat him if they knew what he really was. He winced internally, gritting his teeth together and reaching out with both hands to rest against the wall. His fingers dug into the aged wall of the parlor and a low hiss escaped between his gritted teeth. She was toying with his one true weakness--his foolish facade. The one where he attempted to pretend that he was a normal human whenever he was out in public...and the fear of being exiled and executed if the people of the land ever found out otherwise. It was a lonely, tortured sort of existence...and Maleficent knew this better than anyone else.

“Don’t--” he managed to choke out, refusing to face her while he gathered his strength again. “Don’t.”

“My one redeemable gift?” he asked slowly, blinking in bemusement and turning around to face her again. This time, his agonized features were replaced with a gesture of complete confusion. What exactly was she hinting at? “Get to the point, Celine.”

[running-pietro-deactivated20160]

Literature Assistance, Please? || Adam & Jasmine

[running-pietro-deactivated20160]

To say Jasmine was a social person was quite the stretch. She was friendly and she liked making friends but she wasn’t a social person-not really anyways. She much preferred keeping to herself and watch others talk. Hearing the opinion of others and reading between the lines. But if someone approached her, she would offer pleasantries until given a reason not to. She could fully admit she struggled with making friends for a good number of reasons. People found her too headstrong, too straightforward, too blunt, too intimidating. Jasmine was distrustful of those who tried talking to her if they knew who she was. It could get lonely, her life in the palace could be stressful and sometimes it was hard to talk to others when she really needed someone to listen. But those she put her faith into had her loyalty. They just needed to be patient with each other.

The stranger in front of her had given her no problems, even going so far to help her when he could’ve easily left her to struggle. How kind of him. Turning the book over in her hands, Jasmine held it close to herself. She shook her head, expression sheepish. “I can’t say. I’ve only been here a handful of times to be quite honest with you.” The library was pleasant and she enjoyed her time here. But she could hardly say it was a regular relaxing spot but possibly over time it may grow to be. Her expression perked up at the mention of his own library. Was it like this library? Larger? Fuller? It was unsurprising to anyone who really thought about it but Jasmine had quite the soft spot for the topic of architecture. Agrabah being known for its buildings and advancements in the field, it was no surprise that the princess would get excited at the thought.

“So you read often,” Smile tugging at her lips, trying to imagine what it looked like. “Your library must be lovely to keep you so occupied.” The palace had more than its own fair share of books but not really the privacy she craved for. She could easily be found there and disturbed and while she could’ve easily snuck into the palace library at night when everyone was asleep. There was something so much more appealing about sneaking out of the palace to explore other libraries. Ones where she wasn’t the princess but just another book lover as anyone else there. Here she wasn’t an icon, just another face like him.

I envy that a little.

“Unfortunately, I haven’t had a lot of time as of late to grab a book and really read it.” Her tone dropped its perkiness, bordering exasperated. To have gotten so lost in her work that she forgot to relax, she mentally scolded herself. It’d do no one good if she overworked herself.

“So I’ve made time and now here I am just looking for anything in particular to read. If you have any suggestions, I’d be more than happy to go take a look.” Jasmine looked almost hopeful that he would. Anything would’ve been fine, she wasn’t picky and she just needed a distraction. To be taken away from her current reality and thrown somewhere far off living the life of someone else. Not to mention, if he read often he must have quite an arsenal of literature up his sleeve?

[adamsbeast-blog]

It was strange, spending his free time communicating with an absolute stranger; it felt abnormal in the queerest of ways, and Adam found himself internally berating himself for being so introverted to begin with. In fact, he was quite confident that--to absolutely anyone else in the world--this polite exchange and friendly banter between himself and the raven-haired young woman he’d assisted just moments before would have been considered normal and relaxed to anyone else in all of Verden. But to him? He, who spoke to so few people and engaged in pleasantries with hardly anyone outside of his estate’s staff? This was like leaping into unfamiliar, uncharted territory...he couldn’t decide if the exchange made him more anxious or fearful. Perhaps a turbulent mixture of both, even. On the plus side, this stranger seemed as hesitant about the entire exchange as he did...just in a different way. Was she a lone wolf too, then (metaphorically, of course)? Is that why she had snuck out to the library in the middle of the night? Because she didn’t fancy running into people and thought the late evening was the best way to go about that?

If so, then they were practically kindred spirits.

“It’s a beautiful library, is it not, mademoiselle?” Adam found himself inquiring when the strange woman stated that she’d only been here a handful of times before. For someone who was so unequipped with dealing with strangers and maintaining lengthy conversations and pleasantries with them, he was doing a fairly decent job of keeping up a casual conversation with this young woman. Or at the very least, that was what Adam was currently telling himself. “There’s something so calming and serene about libraries...it’s one of the many reasons why I have my own back at my...ah...estate. It’s a nice place to go if you wish to be alone.”

Only after he uttered his final statement did Adam realize how awkward it was, going on and on about relishing in solitude in a library while he was disrupting someone else’s peace (and having his disrupted in return).

“You could say that,” he found himself stating when she commented on the size of his library. He held his hands behind his back and looked around, gazing at the dozens of shelves that littered the public institution. There was something far grander about his own personal library, something that screamed “aristocracy” and “class.” It was...difficult to place. It was also the warmest place in his entire house--sometimes, Adam swore his personal library held all of his secrets. This knowledge became suffocating sometimes, so he’d occasionally find himself drifting to public stores, shops, and libraries such as these...a gentle reprieve from his ordinary life, so to speak. “Reading has always been a hobby of mine, I suppose; a family trait passed down, I think you could go as far as to say.”

He cocked his head slightly when the young woman stated she hadn’t had much time lately to devote to reading, and then asked if he had any particular recommendations. While Adam might not have been the most skilled at being sociable, discussing literature seemed to be right up his alley. His lips quirked into a half-grin and he licked his lips once before speaking.

“What sort of books do you enjoy reading, mademoiselle?”

[adamsbeast-blog]

GROUP TASK #4

Adam Dubois’ aesthetic

[celinnedahl-blog]

House Call || Celine & Adam

[celinnedahl-blog]

Her sly mention of the wraiths had gotten the reaction that Celine had wanted to invoke from her rebellious werewolf. That moment of tension, and that flare of fear and apprehension that he tried so desperately to keep from her knowing gaze. The faerie smiled slowly, deliberately. “Oh dear, have I struck a nerve?” She peered at him closer, as though trying to prod his mind. Interestingly enough, it seemed as though he wasn’t quite with her in the room when she mentioned the ball. A part of her almost felt worried about that, wondering if perhaps she had been too hasty to judge his ability to break her curse. It was quickly dismissed however, due to how highly unrealistic that would be. An unpleasant brute like him could hardly make a woman love him for /everything/ he was in a single night. It was laughable.

The witch clapped her hands together in delight as her favourite pet began to growl at her. Now this was what she called prime entertainment! Adam’s animosity towards her was nothing short of breathtaking. “Now why would I go through all the trouble of building a new heart? While I can bring back the dead for a spell, that part of me will remain six feet under. No, I have other uses for their souls.” Celine purred, leaving it up to the wolf to figure out what sort of wicked thing she had planned for his pseudo family. He would fret about it for days- weeks even, if she didn’t divulge that particular aspect of her plotting. It was precisely what she wanted him to think about when he thought of turning against her (not that he had the guts to try such a thing).

Naturally, Adam was taking her offer with a grain of salt. At least the decades of isolation had taught the boy something about dealing with faeries and their contracts. But she was a few steps ahead of him, like always. The paling of his face as he weighed the choices she provided him, and the gradual realization that he would still be losing with either one was particularly exquisite. To see this intimidating creature retreating from her, requiring support with the weight of her words, gave her a satisfaction that she could rarely get elsewhere. A woman could get drunk over that sort of power over a man.

A flash of something flickered at her werewolf’s question, quickly replaced by exasperation. “Are you still asking that question? I thought I’ve made it clear, love.” Celine picked up one of the ornate figurines along the fireplace’s mantle, examining it with mild interest. “I run a business of give and take. Your mother did not pay her dues, so in turn you must take up her debt. As much as I enjoy watching you suffer, your collection date is approaching- fast.” Her hands glowed green for a moment, and when she had set the small statue back, it was melted and warped where she had touched it. “Does a lemming choose whether the hawk or the fox devours it? How is a bear’s supper decided between a rabbit and a doe? Your family was picked completely by chance, that night the werewolf marked you.” A few of the embers left the fire, dancing around Adam as a crude caricature of the very beast that had haunted him all his life. “These are the cards that life has given you, and I can only shuffle the deck so many times before you need to make a choice.”

As much as she would have loved gloating over him, Celine was hardly interested in giving him time to weasel his way out of her proposal. The longer he stalled, the more likely her prey would get away. “This is a rare window of opportunity, Adam. I can’t tell you if anything of its like will ever come around again. Would you really let your pride interfere with your best shot of breaking your curse? Or are you that willing to keep my company for the rest of your short, miserable days?" 

[adamsbeast-blog]

Adam thought fondly of his Christine Daae; her  beautiful smile, gorgeous chestnut curls, and the way her nose crinkled when she smiled and laughed at anything he had to say. Adam had never experienced such affection and undivided attention from a young woman before--from a stranger, nonetheless--and it had left him feeling breathless, dazed, and--strangely enough--craving more of her presence. But then the wraiths had attacked, hellbent on wrecking the lives of everyone attending Prince Naveen’s lavish costume ball, and he lost sight of her in the crowd. Though he barely knew the young woman, Adam felt himself overflowing with grief and anger at the thought of the bright and vivacious girl dying at the hands of Celine. Celine, who had already destroyed and dictated so much of his life, had no right to ruin others’ chances at a prosperous, long life, as well. And yet...that was exactly what the dark faerie was doing.

And there was absolutely nothing that Adam or anyone else could do to properly stop her. She was too far gone.

Rather than growing frustrated or angry with Adam’s little comment about her lack of a heart (or the very small, charred one she most likely had been stuck with), Celine merely tilted her head back and laughed. Laughed, like any sort of insult he could manage to throw at her was nothing more than a teasing jest from a petulant child. Her reaction only made Adam angrier than he’d been before (if that was even possible), and the werewolf barely refrained from using his hands to claw a new series of scars into the blonde’s fair skin. How dare she continue to play with him like this; after all the years--after all the useless torture--how fucking dare she. Adam thought of himself as a child, weak and terrified and confused about his strange and uncontrollable new powers, and he wondered what he could have possibly done to deserve such wrath and hatred from someone like Maleficent. In town, he’d hear the few neutral party members whisper in hushed voices to one another about how humanity had this coming; how they’d created a monster out of Maleficent by treating her as some sort of sub-human beast. But when Adam thought of Celine Dahl and their intimate history with one another, he found it difficult to find that she’d ever been capable of kindness or understanding.

He felt that Maleficent was purely rotten and evil...right down to her core.

“Whatever you’re planning on doing...is it even really worth it?” Adam asked, forcing himself to snap out of his own thoughts. Perhaps if he could derail this conversation enough, he’d be able to sway Maleficent away from tempting him with offers he knew damn well she didn’t intend on keeping (certainly not as pure and simple as she made it sound, at the very least). He knew it was a bit of stretch--she was ridiculously clever and manipulative, after all--but it was the only hope Adam had to go on at present.

He listened as the witch spoke about his life, about fate, and about everything in-between. Choices...seemed that life was full of difficult ones to decide upon, but with Celine’s involvement, any choice in Adam’s life was a million times more difficult, more brutal, more vicious. He bit back the sigh that itched to tumble freely from his lips and forced himself to, once again, swallow the anger that was mounting and building at the base of his throat. One of these days, he’d get Celine back for the hell she’d forced him to endure...one of these days...

“No one said that you had to force yourself into my life,” Adam said angrily, his brows drawn together as Celine spoke of his mother. “You broke my mother’s heart with talk of hopes and promises; you made her believe magic was good...I am not my mother. I don’t believe in your illusions, your tricks and treats and everything in-between. The cards we’re dealt in life have all been tampered with by you, Celine, so don’t you dare act like this was the only path in life for me to venture down. My mother is dead and my servants are lifeless...you have nothing else you can possibly take from us.”

Adam turned away from Celine when she made it clear that this sort of offer wouldn’t come to her again, He folded his arms across his chest and gazed out one of the many windows in the parlor. Glancing down over the property that surrounded Dubois Estate, the wolf was very tempted to run into the vegetation and hide himself away until the war and famine and pain had all finished. He’d lived through hell for the vast majority of his life...he wasn’t quite sure he could handle much more. Celine had brought him to his breaking point.

“I am not a killer, Celine. Surely you must know that by now.”

[celinnedahl-blog]

House Call || Celine & Adam

[celinnedahl-blog]

Celine looked smug in the face of Adam’s blatant denial of his wound up state, or the grim reality staring directly at him. It had been years since she had cursed his estate, and he was no closer to breaking it without her help. Having her remind him of that at every conceivable moment was one of her more favoured hobbies. “It’s hardly my fault that humans make my job so easy on my behalf. Throw a little black magic at them and they scatter about like chickens without their heads. Send them something a little more bloodthirsty and well…” The faerie giggled wickedly, leaving the werewolf to fill in the blanks. Adam had been to the latest ball, of that she knew for certain. “It’s a full-time occupation to be the bane of Verden. Fortunately it’s something that I happen to enjoy immensely.”

The flare of anger died into a dull simmer, the witch’s visage returning to its eerily human appearance. Getting salty with Adam would not gain her as much ground, and she was intent on keeping her domineering hold over him. So she went back to mocking him and his cool demeanor instead. “Has the werewolf grown a backbone? It seems his recent stint outside has given him some courage. How wonderful.” In a smooth movement, she left the armchair, closing the distance between the pair with her black cloak swishing behind her. He towered over her, but Celine was unaffected, trailing a burning finger along his stubbled jaw. “Seeing as you enjoyed my sweet wraiths so much, I may have them come around to visit again. Your servants would love to chat with them, I’m sure.” She whispered sweetly, wondering just how much longer the werewolf would last before his temper got the better of him.

Much to her delight, she saw how her offer had struck his interest. Even after all that time she could play the boy like a fiddle. “As luck would have it, you happen to be under my guardianship at an opportune time. I have a few openings in my employ that need to be filled, and being a lycanthrope helps your credentials. It’s not much, really. You just run a few small errands for me and work off your debt, rather than fulfilling a requirement you surely can’t meet.” Celine stepped back, graciously giving Adam some personal space. She knew how to work a proposal, twisting her words around until they sounded too sweet to resist. “Given how successful my organization’s past operations have been, you would be looking at a lucrative career. Benefits would include a traveling life outside of your hovel, opportunities for promotion, and a preemptive warning on all attacks on the kingdoms.” The witch smiled, as though ignoring the clear opportunities she was giving Adam. Freedom with conditions; and seemingly harmless ones at that. “Upon my victory, which is more or less assured at this rate, you will be free to do whatever you wish. I can hardly babysit you when I’ve a kingdom to run after all.”

She knew how tempting her offer sounded, having carefully crafted it personally. Adam of all people knew precisely what she was capable of, after all. But if he was still unwilling to bite that offer, a backup plan was already ready and waiting. “…Or you could leave your estate to me. I think the souls of your servants would be a suitable payment, considering how powerful your curse has become over the years.” Celine shrugged innocently, as if she held no preference for either option. And she didn’t, really. Either she would work the werewolf to the bone for her own interests, or gain enough indentured souls to run a palace. Both offers were clearly stacked in her favour. “So what would it be, Adam? Interested?”

[adamsbeast-blog]

If life would have permitted him to do so, Adam would have transformed into his wolf form out of pure rage alone and would have been able to pin Maleficent down with one paw thrust against her greedy throat. And as tempting as it sounded, Adam knew that there were far too many consequences to his actions; Celine was the one who had damned his family, his entire household, and himself. She was the one who had flipped his world upside down for the sake of claiming ownership over the werewolf, and Adam bore that albatross every fucking day of his life. Attacking her would only make the Dubois boy even more indebted to the snake-like faerie, and Maleficent knew this as well as he did. He might have been a strong and powerful werewolf, but a part of Adam sorely doubted his strength and power would be anything paired against her cruelty and magic.

And besides, Adam...liked to refrain from transforming if at all possible. It was the part of his life he continued to try and vehemently deny, even now.

The moment that Celine alluded to the costume ball in Maldonia that occurred on Halloween and the chaos that the public had to endure that evening, Adam felt his blood run cold and his muscles stiffen immediately. Much to his displeasure, his mind immediately flitted towards the charming young woman he’d stumbled across at the party--the only one to recognize his costume for what it truly was, he’d spent a great deal of time conversing with the young woman over literature, the Phantom of the Opera, and everything in-between. She’d been the single ray of light that Adam had come across in a long time, and he felt his chest aching at the realization of her being subjected to such terrible phantom menaces.

And he found himself praying desperately that she’d managed to escape. That somehow, some way, she’d managed to slip by the creatures’ notice. God, how he hoped.

Adam narrowed his eyes as Celine changed her approach once more; no longer was she angry and maniacal. Instead, her voice had adopted a cool, suave tone--something that was clearly condescending towards Adam and mocking his barely-restrained anger. He felt his hands tighten into fists as Maleficent threatened to bring her army of wraiths down on the innocent again; this time, to a location much, much closer to Adam’s heart.

“Leave them out of this, Celine,” Adam growled, his lips curling back to bare his teeth--rather like fangs, Adam was prone to animalistic tendencies in fits of rage. Now was certainly no exception. “You’ve already cursed them for merely existing--must you take their souls, too? Or are you hoping that harvesting enough will help you build a heart of your own?”

The wolf grew quiet as Celine began to dangle promises of freedom and hope right in front of him, giving the young man the sort of hope and aspirations that had been absent from his life for decades. She made it sound so easy, working off a debt rather than fulfilling a wish that would never be paid. She spun her tale and commands so artfully--in the same manner she’d done to Adam’s mother so many years ago. He knew Maleficent’s tactics never came as pure and innocent as they seemed; as she went about explaining what his job title and requirements would be, Adam couldn’t help but wonder what she wasn’t telling him. How many people would he have to kill to free himself of her shackles? And once he’d committed such crimes, how could he ever manage to wipe the blood from his hands?

He was fully prepared to tell the faerie off and deny any and all of her tempting offers and claims when she began to speak once more...this time detailing what would happen to Adam’s estate and the people who served under him should he not accept her proposal or fulfill her original contract. He felt the blood drain from his face; felt his heart thrum painfully against his rib cage, aching to rip itself out of his chest and free itself from the bonds of its prison. He staggered a bit, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall for support. She’d trapped him...again. Again, the bitch had trapped him between a rock and a hard place.

“Why me?” he asked slowly, opening his eyes and studying her closely. “Why have you chosen me as your toy thing? For decades, you’ve made me and my household your fucking slaves. Why? Why?”

[running-pietro-deactivated20160]

Literature Assistance, Please? || Adam & Jasmine

[running-pietro-deactivated20160]

Toes were cramping from putting all her weight on to the tiny limbs. Her arms were beginning to hurt from the strain of trying to stretch them. Fingers barely even grazing the spine. Jasmine half groaned, half growled in frustration. She was petite in stature, no one could deny that and while her presence usually made up for it, a book wouldn’t be something that was intimidated by her. The solution was rather simple too, just retreat for the moment and go look for a ladder or a step stool. Or even a person if she encountered one. The book wouldn’t be walking away anytime soon but her stubborn nature refused to let her do so. I can do this. I can reach this. Even when it more than likely she really did need the outside help.

She’d half expected that she really would have to climb the shelf to reach the book since she was getting nowhere on her toes. Her attention was sparse not even noticing the approaching figure until it was too late. A shadow loomed over her causing the princess to tense up. Who was that? What did they want with her? Watching with anxious and confused eyes, a hand plucked the book she was reaching for off the shelf and into her hands. She held the book loosely as Jasmine looked up to face the stranger, straining her neck. Giving him a curious stare, she nodded subtly. “Yes, it is.”

Her gaze moved back to the book, fingers running over the cover. The book was in good shape but used enough that one could tell that people frequented this piece. Cover corners slightly aged and tattered from being handled so much. The pages were in good condition, someone dog-earing a page or two. If she flipped through it, she would see the occasional stain from previous readers. When was the last time she’d actually sit down and read? Probably not that long ago, but too long for comfort. Her free time was limited due to other activities that kept her busy. It’d been so long that Jasmine held an actual book in her hand that her visit to the library made her quite excited. Every book she latched onto to brought forth a warm feeling within in. Excitement. It felt new and light in her hands, she couldn’t wait to jump into it.

Looking back up at the stranger, Jasmine offered a smile to him. “I’m sorry you had to step in like that, but thank you.” The stranger was taller than her, craning her neck upward to see really get a look at him. He wasn’t a face she recognized, she resolved herself to really pay attention more to her surroundings. It wouldn’t do her any good to keep sneaking around like this if she wasn’t paying attention to those around her. She highly doubted she’d get intro trouble with someone for sneaking into a library at night. But there are some people who’d love to know a princess’s whereabouts. Jasmine glanced around for any other persons walking about. Either others had found a good spot to keep themselves occupied or it was just the two of them. “Do you…. frequent this library, Sir?”

[adamsbeast-blog]

Ordinarily, Adam stayed away and out of everyone else’s business; he had too many problems of his own to deal with to even think about anyone else’s. But when he’d seen the young woman struggling desperately to reach a book just out of her reach, the young nobleman didn’t see any genuine harm in stepping in and aiding her in what appeared to be her time of need. Hopefully, he could hand her the book, exchange the minimal amount of pleasantries, and then be on his way. Introverted to the core, Adam liked to spend as little time fraternizing with people outside of the walls of his family’s sprawling estate as possible. At the root of it all, he knew it was a huge behavioral problem; that his hesitancy and reluctance to engage in pleasant conversations with complete strangers or vague acquaintances from the local villages in Aldora contributed to his inability to break the curse Maleficent had cast upon his house and the servants and master dwelling inside of it.

Luckily for Adam, the young woman he was assisting this evening didn’t seem to be too keen on striking up a lengthy bit of chatter with him. She merely mumbled to respond that yes, this was--in fact--the book she’d been reaching after--and then glanced down at its worn corners and weathered pages. She seemed quite intent on examining the state of the book, and Adam found himself entranced by her intense observation of the book. He tried to take a peek at the spine to see what it was she planned on reading, but her hands covered the gold-embossed letters and kept them hidden from his gaze as she flipped through the book’s pages.

When it came to books, though, Adam Dubois truly couldn’t help himself; they were his one weakness in life. His one and only vice in a world full of sin and despair.

“You’re welcome, mademoiselle, it was my pleasure,” Adam managed in a voice that was raspy and thick from a lack of proper use. Realizing how strange his voice sounded, Adam went about clearing his throat and gifting her with a small hint of a smile. He still had no indication of who this young woman was and why she was lurking about the library in the middle of the night, nonetheless, but she didn’t seem too suspicious in her activities. Perhaps she, like Adam, just preferred the quiet and peace that came with nightfall. There were significantly less people to worry about roaming the town, after all (not counting the local pubs), and so he tried to shove any paranoid feelings aside and focused on the logical explanations instead. He cocked his head slightly when the young woman attempted to make small talk with him, pressing his tongue between his lips for a moment as he tried to craft an articulate response that didn’t make him sound like a total hermit.

“Occasionally,” he said finally with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I have plenty of books within my own estate to keep myself more than occupied, however. What about you? Is this a regular relaxing spot for you?”

[running-pietro-deactivated20160]

Literature Assistance, Please? || Adam & Jasmine

Tensions were high everywhere she went. Everything that could be heard right now were whispers and mumbles of worry and frustration. What was Maleficent going to do next? What were the royals and nobility going to do about it? Plenty, she’d be quick to reply. They would be doing something, at least if Jasmine had something to say about it. She refused to be a sitting duck waiting to be killed off. Still, she struggled trying to keep the people calm and informed to the best of her ability. And while it worked, the smallest of things could bring the tensions back up even higher. The Palace was no better. Nobles were up in arms about what to do. Her father had been anxious and terrified since the night of the ambush, barely letting her out of his sight or his guard’s sight. He meant well, she knew, he was only worried for her. But it was suffocating. Jasmine felt as if she was in a cage being watched for the slightest of movement. She needed time away to gather her thoughts, maybe gain some information in the proper direction. What better place than a library?

The library was larger than she expected, looking smaller from the outside. But that was her own fault for judging on first impression. The ceiling painted with a beautiful mural was high, leaving plenty of room for the towering book shelves that took up majority of the room. Passing through the isles, she made note of a few tables where she could just sit and read-possibly hide away for an hour or two. She’d snuck away in the middle of the night-actually a few nights if she was going to be honest at this point. This was her third night in a row coming to the library. So far she hadn’t noticed the company of anyone else in the library but she wasn’t looking all that hard either.

Walking slowly between the isles, her eyes flitted from book spine to book spine. Skimming titles for anything remotely interesting-or anything that seemed beneficial to read about. Her hand was held out at her sides as she walked, enjoying the feeling of the books under her fingers. She reached the end and turned around, eyes moving to the shelf higher than the last. And repeat. Humming softly, she continued her search until she found a title that caught her eye. Reaching up to grab it, she deflated realizing the shelf was too high and she was too short. Jasmine looked around hoping to see a ladder or a step stool of some sort, seeing none much to her dismay. “Oh come on,” She shook her head, trying to grab at the book again standing on the top of her toes. Maybe she could climb the shelf?

[adamsbeast-blog]

If there was one thing in the world that Adam Dubois loved above all else, it was reading. Having spent so much of his life tucked away in isolation from much of Verden (and even most of his own country, Aldora), the young werewolf and heir to the Dubois family name and fortune therefore had a great deal of free time on his hands growing up. Luckily for him, his family was equipped with a fantastic, wonderfully ornate library, filled from floor to ceiling with hundreds upon thousands of tomes for the curious boy to fill his head with. There were educational books detailing the history of linguistics and the political divisions of Verden; there were scientific collections detailing the biological compositions of the magical creatures that existed within the realm and various findings; there were anthologies and fables and everything that the boy could have possibly wanted. Too often, Adam would spend evenings curled up in one corner of the massive library with piles of books surrounding him, eagerly flipping through any volume he could get his little hands on. He read about former wars and deceased war heroes; he learned about Greek mythology and Norse mythology and how vastly they differed from one another. Adam read anything he could manage to come across, and on his darkest days, reading (and indeed, his library) was the only thing that could assuage his fears and calm his nerves.

So in the wake of yet another attack Maleficent (or as he bitterly knew her as, Celine) had inflicted upon the mortals of Verden, Adam was feeling a bit...tense. And when his own manor was on the verge of causing him to lose his bloody fucking mind, the nobleman packed up his things and decided to head into the local village’s library.

As Adam had grown accustomed, a strange tingling sensation watched over him as he passed from the boundaries of his sprawling estate towards the unknown of one of Aldora’s villages. Out of habit, the Dubois heir didn’t frequent the village too much--only when he absolutely had to--and the stress that came with leaving the strange comfort of his own makeshift prison never failed to fill him with ridiculous amounts of anxiety. But he persevered, passing through the cobblestone path leading from his house down to the nearest village, and by the time he’d reached his destination, the air had grown quite nippy (or as nippy as Aldora could be). Finally reaching the desired library, Adam stepped inside and took a look around. The institution seemed to be fairly deserted, save for the few people scattered about the place, and Adam went about removing his coat and slinging it over the nearest coat rack before deciding to immerse himself in the numerous shelves of books available to him.

It was only when the nobleman was making an effort to head towards the mystery section when he heard a low, aggravated noise. Peeking down one of the aisles, he spotted a young woman struggling to reach a book that was just beyond her height limitations. Adam watched her struggle for a few moments, debating on how best to deal with the situation, before finally exhaling in a rush and moving forward.

“Here, allow me,” he murmured, reaching up with one arm and grabbing the spine of the book she seemed to be going after. Pulling the volume down, he handed it to the strange woman and offered the smallest flicker of a smile. He couldn’t recall ever having seen her in Aldora before, but then reasoned with himself that he knew only a small fraction of Aldora’s population to begin with.

“Hope that’s the one you were looking for.”

[celinnedahl-blog]

“You make it sound as though there’s an end to terrorizing people. Love, I’m only going to keep doing it until the humans have learned their lesson. Given how slow they are, I doubt that will ever happen soon. Besides, I have hungrier beasts that need feeding. ”

[adamsbeast-blog]

“There is for normal people, I suppose; but you aren’t quite ordinary, are you, Maleficent? You don’t have the capacity to love, to empathize, to understand your victims. Why punish humans for human nature, when you’ve proven time and time again to be the reigning monster of them all?”

[adamsbeast-blog]

Reflection || Drabble

He could still remember the exact sensation; the way he’d felt when his legs gave out underneath him and his body, still and strangely hollow-feeling, thudded violently against the forest floor. He remembered the sinking realization that he was going to die; resigned to rotting in the middle of the woods at just eight years old, destined to decay amidst the fallen leaves and filthy Earth.

“Please...” was the only word he knew; it left his lips on a high-pitched cry of desperation. It became as frequent as breathing--one last urgent plea for someone, for anyone, to hear his sobs of terror and respond. Adam could still feel the residue of dirt caked underneath his fingernails; even now, at thirty, the Dubois heir would wake up in the middle of the night, shivering and clawing at his bare skin in an effort to clean his hands from the mud and muck that permanently stained them. It was like trying to wash away your flesh and blood; it was a part of him now, this medley of sensations, and it weighed down on Adam’s chest each and every day he suppressed the memories that had haunted him for over two decades. His mind brought forth images of the small and petrified boy he’d once been; memories of what it had been like to claw at the forest floor, sobbing and begging for mercy as the heavy, massive wolf on top of him clawed and bit at his skin.

“Please, leave me alone! Please--mama, mama! Aidez-moi! Aidez-moi!”

But there was no mother to run out and help her only child; papa had been dead and gone for a handful of years now, having been swallowed up by the sea, and Mrs. Potts was nowhere to be found. And Adam, desperate for a miracle and praying for a savior, whispered words of nonsense and desperation to God, hoping that he would take mercy on the Dubois boy and save him in his moment of need.

But prayer and scripture hadn’t prepared Adam for the grim reality of living in a world run by the Devil and his advocates--no sooner had the child’s lips begun to form some semblance of a plea than the wolf sunk his teeth into the boy’s shoulder, nearly ripping his arm out of its socket in the process. His claws dug into each side of Adam’s torso, practically shredding the boy’s skin to pulp as his sharp canines sunk deep within Adam’s flesh.

There were no words to describe the pain; the agony was so unbearable that Adam felt himself struggling to detach himself from it. The intensity and severity of the pain became too much to bear, and after only a few moments of helpless screaming and inhumane shrieking, Adam drifted away from himself and into the sweet, deep relief of unconsciousness. His last thought was of death, and wondering whether his mother would be the one to stumble across his mutilated corpse, or if one of the servants would be the unfortunate one to find his rotting carcass. What Adam hadn’t been expecting that day, however, was for Mrs. Potts to find him just as he was losing consciousness--for her to distract and ward off the deranged werewolf long enough to drag Adam’s body back to the manor. What Adam hadn’t known was how his blood coated her from head to toe as she dragged his body along with her; how all the color had fled his face and how his mother screamed and nearly fainted upon sight of him.

What Adam couldn’t have known then, at just eight years old, was that he’d just been cursed. And that his life was about to change from that day forward forever more. They claimed saving him had been a medical miracle; that nothing short of fate could have kept Adam alive that day.

But Adam’s life came with a price...one he wasn’t so sure he would’ve willingly paid if given the chance to do things over again.

[adamsbeast-blog]

ADAM DUBOIS - INFJ / “The Advocate”

“The INFJ personality type is very rare, making up less than one percent of the population, but they nonetheless leave their mark on the world.”

[mancandykings]

[celinnedahl-blog]

“Oh, that was such a delightful affair! I do hope to make a reappearance soon enough, but after all that excitement, I may need to take a small vacation. Being the life of the party is so dreadfully exhausting after all.”

[adamsbeast-blog]

“Not quite done terrorizing everyone yet, are you, Celine? When will enough be enough for you? What will it take for you to leave everyone alone?”

[lily-winterson-blog]

“Not to worry, My Lord. I haven’t come dressed as anyone in particular,” she reassured him with a smile. “I’m a woodland elf. I’ve always felt a connection to nature, especially the forest, so I thought it would be fitting to attend the ball dressed as something that represents that. Initially, I was going to attend as a faerie, but I’m sure you can guess why that wouldn’t have been very wise.” Lily knew that dressing as a faerie when it was one that declared war on Verden would have brought negative attention to her, not to mention it would be inconsiderate to others attending, and this ball was supposed to be merry. “The Phantom of the Opera,” she repeated slowly with furrowed brows. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of him. Forgive me. But why is he so misunderstood?” She was sure she’d have to read the novel to find that out and promised herself she’d seek it out to do so. “I don’t think anyone here feels quite like themselves, they’re in costumes,” Lily said playfully with a chuckle. “Is that not the point of dressing up for Halloween? To be someone else for a night?”  

[adamsbeast-blog]

“A woodland elf--now that’s an interesting little costume,” Adam mused, pursing his lips thoughtfully. He’d met just a few elves in his day (there was a great deal of wooded land surrounding his family’s regal estate, after all), and the moment she stated she was meant to represent one, Adam began to pick apart the similarities in her costume for the evening and the little creatures she was referring to. “I understand your connection to nature, and I think you made the right choice veering away from any faerie ensemble.” Adam struggled not to clip his words as the talk shifted towards Maleficent, instead gifting the small young woman with what he hoped was a sincere smile.

“He was declared a monster by society; deformed because of physical hindrances he couldn’t really understand,” Adam attempted to explain, wetting his lips and giving a small shrug. It was difficult to express the complexities of the character without a background understanding of the novel itself. “I’d highly suggest reading the book, should you ever get a free moment...the author can do the character much more justice than I’d be able to, I’m afraid. And you do have a point there, but...I don’t know. Tonight feels different. Like something’s about to happen.”

[adamsbeast-blog]

The Music of the Night || Adam & Belle

[bellledefleur-blog1]

Belle couldn’t even begin to believe her eyes - so far, absolutely no one at the Halloween ball had been able to make heads or tails of her costume, but standings before her was a man dressed to the nines as her literary counterpart. He made an utterly fantastic phantom, the stranger did, with his dark curly hair and his piercing eyes, and though Belle had come to Mirindra accompanied with another man entirely as her date, it was impossible for her to avoid being struck breathless by the one she was interacting with now. So rarely did anyone ever share her great love of books, and realizing that she wasn’t alone in her awe and admiration of the Phantom of the Opera had her feeling as if her heart was threatening to beat its way right out of her chest. She just hoped that she hadn’t been mistaken in her assumption that he was indeed her beloved Eric, that he wasn’t dressed up as some strange sort of vampire or ghost instead, because that would have been horribly embarrassing, and…disappointing as well. She felt as if she and the stranger shared a strange sort of kinship with one another, one that, as she gazed up at him with wide and hope-filled eyes, surely could have been felt halfway across the ballroom. Belle waited with bated breath for him to reply, and when he did, it was in a voice that was every bit as dark and mysterious as he had appeared to her so far - smoky, low, and velvet-smooth, he utilized it to quote to her a passage from the very novel that she had just referenced…one of her all-time favorites, one that she knew by heart.

If Belle’s heart had been pounding before, it was positively racing now, and as the man stepped closer towards her and inclined his head down to her before admitting that, yes, he was very much so her dearly-coveted phantom of the night, she very nearly swooned where she was standing. It was just - coming face to face with a character from a book she held so near and dear to her heart, one who just so happened to embody everything about the man who lived among the shadows, was far too much for Belle to even comprehend. She felt giddy and excited, breathless and flushed and swept up and overwhelmed, and in that moment, she forgot that she had been escorted to the ball by another man - in that moment, everything else ceased to exist. “You - you own the first edition?!” Her eyes widened impossibly, and her voice was a breathy gasp as she responded to the phantom’s startling admittance - to Belle, books were every bit as good as currency to her, and while she could only ever afford the used and run-down copies of the ones she cherished so deeply, she had always dreamed of owning things like first and limited editions, and so the knowledge that the stranger before her had his own library to pick and choose from was unlike anything else she had ever so much as fantasized about before.

“But that - I - oh my goodness, you must have had to give up an arm and a leg for it! That…I…oh monsieur!”  Tittering, and all but trembling from head to toe like an excited little puppy, Belle took an eager step closer towards the much-taller man, drinking in each and every single one of the details of his costume with bright and observant eyes. She just couldn’t believe how accurately he depicted the phantom she had grown to love and care for - he was perfect. “’Why do you condemn a man who you have never seen, whom no one knows about and whom you yourself know nothing?‘” Her voice was soft and breathless still, and her words tumbled past her rosy lips faster than her mind could comprehend them - she was quoting the book right back at him, with all the ease that came from having read it dozens of times in the past, and she didn’t doubt that the stranger would immediately be able to guess at which passage the text had come from. “It - it’s a pleasure to meet you, monsieur fantôme. Christine Daae at your service.” She gave him a delicate little curtsy, pulling lightly at the sides of her dress and ducking her head before looking up at him eagerly, a sweet and welcoming smile warmly encompassing her dainty features. “It’s a shame I wasn’t able to find you in the crowds earlier on in the evening! Though I suppose that, given your dedication to your character, you’ve been remaining hidden for the majority of the night?”

[adamsbeast-blog]

It was a strangely relieving and inclusive sensation, knowing that he was recognizable by at least one person at the party. And not just anyone, but a charming young woman who had chosen to dress up as Christine Daae, of all people! She seemed absolutely blown away by the idea that she’d run into Erik--her literary inspiration’s very counterpart--at a costume ball filled with people dressed as witches and faeries and everything in-between. Adam had to admit, he was a bit stunned himself; at first, dressing up as one of his favored and more iconic literary characters had seemed like an excellent idea...until he quickly realized that many of the guests at Prince Naveen’s costume ball had chosen to go with outfits more inspired on classic legends, magical creatures, and mythology than characters from literature. It had him thinking about how much time he spent secluded in his manor; how his isolation stopped him from understanding many of the things that people around him did and enjoyed.

So finding someone who not only saw him for who he was, but seemed to be in love with it, was exactly the sort of confidence boost he needed. It made him feel...warm. Welcome. It  was an overall very strange sensation.

“I do own the first edition, yes,” Adam confirmed, nodding slightly and watching the way such a simple statement seemed to light up the young woman’s entire face. She had warm, kind features, but there was a hardness just beneath her exterior...something that hinted that she was a strong woman in ways that Adam couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He valued the way that she stared at him, with such awe and respect. It had been a long time since anyone had gazed at Adam in such a fashion...including himself. “If I had known I would run into a fan as devoted to the novel as myself, mademoiselle, I can assure you I would’ve brought it along. Consider it a token of inheritance, so to speak; it was passed down to me by my, erm, mother when I was younger.” He offered her up a soft sort of smile, praying to God that she wasn’t turned off by how forward he was being. His palms felt clammy and his heart was racing a mile a minute; this was the most contact he’d had with someone outside of his manor’s grounds in what felt like a lifetime.

It...it was refreshing.

By the time the stranger was opening her mouth once more, Adam found his heart skipping a beat and his breath stalling immediately; she was quoting the book back at him. She was quoting the book directly back at him. Adam licked his lips, his fingers trembling slightly as the girl energetically spewed off one of the more poetic pieces of prose in the novel, and he was so astounded by her memorization of the novel that, by the end of her short monologue, he could do little more than gift her with what he hoped came across as a kind smile. It was a bit difficult to tell how his facial gestures came across with this mask shielding part of his face.

“I...have been a bit isolated, yes,” Adam managed to state, though he left out that it was not, in fact, owed to dedication to the role but instead a habit of his own hermit nature. He scratched at one of his hands for a moment before licking his lips and daring to speak up. “So long as you’re here, Angel of Music, would you...like some punch, perhaps? A snack?” He gestured towards the food table, offering to ladle her some punch or grab her a plate of food.

[lily-winterson-blog]

“While I can’t speak for everyone, I can say that this costume makes me feel anything but brave,” Lily commented with a small laugh as she looked down at her long green and white gown. “Worried would be the word I’d use. I worry that I’m not as graceful as woodland elves usually are. But I’ll admit that I do feel beautiful in my costume, though.” She then looked over at the man and took in his own, a little unsure as to what he was supposed to be. “What have you come dressed as, My Lord? And why is it that the ball has turned out differently than you expected?” She questioned curiously. Lily had arrived later than the other guests and wondered what she had missed.

[adamsbeast-blog]

“Interesting choice of dress...what exactly is your costume meant to represent, sorry? I’m not very skilled when it comes to putting names to the different outfits I’ve seen tonight.” Adam cocked his head slightly as the tiny brunette spoke, placing his tongue between his lips thoughtfully. She seemed...fragile, almost; uncertain of herself. Adam wanted to tell her he understood how she felt--ridiculously so--but instead kept his mouth firmly shut. He knew better than to divulge in anything personal with strangers.

“I’m supposed to be the Phantom of the Opera,” Adam answered, glancing down at his own ensemble. “He’s a misunderstood character of darkness that reigns from a classic novel I’m quite fond of. And it’s a bit...difficult to explain, I suppose. I don’t quite feel myself tonight, you know?”