𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 , the casting aside of things much less meaningful than these moments. she rests , languid , in golden sunshine , loves the dizzying humid weight of the spring air and the rip smell of lush green growth. she rests , a yearning in her on those cold winter nights , a desiring for companionship , someone to bathe in the light of the moon , who by far as any celestial body knows what it is to be human , the shifting shape , the waxing and waning. she eyes the bulk of his shadow in the dim light , face obscured as she turns from the flames , and wonders with an idle curiosity if tonight is a night of waxing or waning. would that he would step into the light , HAD SHE NOT GROWN WEARY OF SHADOWS ? had she not sought refuge by the fire for it’s warmth and it’s light ? and hadn’t he too ? sought refuge from the winter in his gut , the hunger sated he stood , fresh from a snow laden night and she finds herself stepping into the dark. if he would not deign to take those few steps more could she not be called upon to finish that journey ? she had never known herself to be a coward. WINTER HOLDS NO UGLINESS that nature had not sown , more than can be said of man. her hands are steady , heart unspooled thread , she thinks , or perhaps it is prayer , for she finds she expects no answers on this night. she thinks , why does this ache ?
her gown , white as snow , white as the world falling from the heavens and she lifts it’s over-long hem. feels the chill air against her ankles , against her hands , from his form , and her lips crest into a smile. “ it is late. “ she points out softly , as hands reach out press cloth to the wet damp of his muzzle , she expects the icy chill , and still gasps , still shocked at the depth of it. “ you’re soaked. if you won’t warm yourself by the fire , at least allow me to fetch something to dry yourself. “ she can feel the cloth of her shift a sodden weight in her hand , and she thinks , in this place , a mirror to her own heart , a haunted house of it’s own , that there is very little use for propriety. her smile is gentle , as gentle as her hands , chilled to the bone , unshaking , as gentle as the slopes of powdered new snow. “ i fear , late or not , if i could sleep , i’d still be abed. “ and for all that this home , if it may be called so has settled a practicality next to her bones she still finds she cannot ask him for the pleasure of his company.
her closeness petrified him . the scratches left upon the palace’s marbled floors constantly reminded the prince of his claws and fangs ; of all the horror which he carried beneath his skin . alain’s hands could do little more than wound and kill these days ... but when faced with such gentleness , the beast became weak . the soft touch of fabric , the outline of mina’s figure , the promise of a warm fire , all of these painted a picture which resembled homeliness ; something alien to alain but which he had never ceased to ache for . his eyes become wide , searching for his guest’s features in the shadows . and somewhere along his journey through the details of mina’s visage , he believed to have spotted a smile in the dark . not a grimace . a smile . and it was as soft as he remembered mina’s dark eyes being . how odd .
she suggested he dried himself off and the promise of warm embers seduced him . so much so that alain could not help but think mina wished to deceive him in order to escape or worse . no woman would be this fearless if there were no great stakes to be had . why else would she reach out and dampen her beautiful gown ? for his sake ? ridiculous . alain huffed and leaned away from mina’s hand as a gravelly growl brewed in the depths of his chest . ❝ who made you lady of this castle ? ❞ a bark more than a bite . the promise of alain’s anger lingered in the air after that question , but that had been but a weak replica , evident to anyone who may have witnessed the destruction and hurt the beast was truly capable of .
still , he regrets it immediately . his temper had been an issue ever since he was a child . always crying out for more , more , more without ever being able to voice what all that wanting was for . alain lowered his head as he brushed past mina and towards the fireplace , ashamed both by the bitterness in his voice and the blood on his fur . when he sat on the floor , he sat with his back to her . and though he might have appeared uninterested at first , his eyes furiously searched for a reason that would keep her there with him . ❝ are your chambers not to your liking ? ❞
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