Tales after Dusk 02

The cloaked figure turns slightly, as if she knows that Sevan is watching. He backs away, turning towards the cat, "And how is it that she isn't as bad?"

Just as the cat opens his mouth, there is a knock on the door. It opens, revealing a branch. It wobbles inside, bowing slightly, before waving its twig arms about.

"Dinner is ready," the cat translates. He jumps off of the bed and scurries out the door, followed by the branch.

Sevan sits back on the edge of the bed. He contemplates not going downstairs at all but through the open door the smells of a freshly cooked dinner entice his stomach to angrily growl at him. As he draws on a pair of boots from the cupboard, he is comforted by the knowledge that his Mother will by now be home safely and making a tea to cure Thomas. In the wardrobe he finds a dinner jacket and though it is way too dressy for the occasion, he pulls it on to take the chill out of his semi frozen bones.

As he descends the staircase, he thinks about his Mother and her never ending kind heart. She told him that though they have next to nothing, they are rich in heart; while there are people who have everything, they lack the compassion that he has and those people must be treated with patience, kindness and understanding. He repeats those words to himself, as if to steel his nerves against fear and impatience with his new host.

As he nears the dining room he saw earlier, he can hear the witch's cold voice, whispering a scold at the cat, "You just keep your tiny mouth shut, you hear?"

"But he could be the one, mistress. Perhaps if you were a bit friendlier?" The cat suggests.

"Enough. It is a ridiculous notion, one that I have well moved past," the witch catches a glimpse of Sevan from the corner of her eye. She swats the cat off of the table before taking a seat at one end. She pours herself a glass of wine, ignoring her guest.

Nervously, Sevan take the seat across the long table from her. Without acknowledging him, she sets the wine bottle down on the table and taps it with her finger. Tiny glass legs spring from the bottom and it waddles across the table, pouring Sevan a full glass.

"My name is Sevan," he says quietly to the witch, "Most people just call me Sev."

Blankly, she glances up to him, "That's nice," she replies sarcastically.

Cat jumps on the table, picking his way around the empty plates while walking towards her, "Meow," he says, trying to nonchalantly act like a cat but it comes off as rather forced.

"Ugh," the witch rolls her eyes, swatting at the cat, "No cats on the table, I've told you many times before."

"Meow." He says again, jumping out of her reach and into a chair.

She stares at the animal, somewhat irritated, before looking at Sev, "Belle. My name is Belle."

Sev smiles curtly at her, "Belle—that is a beautiful name." Short for Isabelle, Sev thinks to himself. The thick, three armed log from the kitchen appears, placing several dishes of food onto the table. Almost immediately, Belle and Sev's plates slink over to the dishes and the serving spoons throw their full weight into plunking heaping piles of food onto the dishes before they begin to slink back to their owners. Impatiently, Belle rushes her dish back to its spot and begins to eat.

Sev manages to keep his mouth shut, unnerved by the enchanted dinnerware, as he looks at the massive spread of food before him; half of a chicken, a mound of potatoes and vegetables complete with a buttered roll. Never before in his life has he eaten so well and as he tastes the delicious food, he is struck by a pang of guilt that his family is barely scraping by at home. He eats slowly, only breaking it up with the occasional sip of the delicious wine in his glass. He glances up at the witch to discover that she is watching him curiously.

"Meow," Cat says, as if to urge his mistress on. She gives him another irritated look, throwing a chicken leg onto the plate in front of him. Distracted, Cat attacks the food.

"So," she says awkwardly, attempting to make conversation so that the cat will leave her alone, "your brother is ill?"

"Yes," Sev replies, "he caught the fever."

"And you were not able to get medicine where you live?" Her voice is flat, making it obvious that she cares little for the welfare of others.

Sev appraises her for a moment, trying to discern if it is a rhetorical question or not, "No. We aren't as fortunate as most. The harsh seasons have made growing anything almost impossible, so what little survives goes at a high price. Thomas fell ill a week ago; I did not believe he would live much longer."

She nods, "Well, my plants are strong and hearty, I trust that he will recover quickly."

"I hope so," Sev says softly, staring down at his food. He stuffs himself to the brim but isn't able to finish it entirely. He feels ashamed that it will go to waste.

Sitting back, he looks up at Belle, who is slowly draining her wine glass. "How long has it been since you've had another dinner guest?"

She sets her glass down, looking at him coldly; he begins to realize that it wasn't the best question to ask.

"That isn't something appropriate to discuss at the dinner table," she grabs the wine bottle and rises from her seat, exiting the room.

Sev watches her go, before turning to the cat. Cat just shakes his head at him. He rises and looks out the doorway, to watch the witch entering the room at the far end of the hall. He follows, discovering a large drawing room, almost barren except for a few pieces of furniture around the fire place. The witch sits alone upon a chair, staring into the flames. Carefully, Sev sits down on the lounge next to her, "I am sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

"Yes, well you should have thought about that before you walked through my gates, huh?" Belle pulls a book from the crack of the cushion and proceeds to ignore him once more.

Leaning back, he stares off into the fire. He has never been away from home before, with the exception of spending the night at a friend's house when he was a kid. Just knowing that he will spend the rest of his life here with this frigid, beastly witch, saddens him. Without having anyone to talk to, a job to do, or his family to take care of, he knows that time in this horrid place will pass very, very slowly. As the minutes tick by, neither of them talk. Cat settles himself in front of the fire, curling into a ball.

An eternity passes before Belle rises and walks away, "I'm going to bed," she says as an afterthought, almost forgetting that there is another person in her house now. She makes her way to the door in the furthest right corner; as she opens it, Sev is surprised to see that the simple bedroom is sparsely furnished, missing the luxury of the rest of the house, his room included. She shuts the door behind herself without another word.

He stretches his legs out in front of himself before he rises and walks towards the front door. He is surprised to see that it stopped raining and the sky is clear, leaving the house brightly lit in the half moon. It is so amiable outside he doesn't need a cloak. Sev strolls around the yard, circling it to the short wooden fence around the garden. Though he doesn't enter it at first, he admires the oddly placed beauty of the luscious flowers planted carefully within the vegetables. It unnerves him a bit to look out in the distance to see snow, just on the other side of the fence. He knows he shouldn't enter, but thinking himself alone outside he walks through the tiny opening so that he can admire the plants a bit closer. When he is half way through the garden, he spots the beautiful magnolia tree that the witch was standing at earlier. It is a truly fascinating sight—the tree is at least thirty feet tall, with a canopy just as wide starting five feet off of the ground. The trunk springs up from a mound of dirt, just large enough for a person or two to settle in happily underneath it. Around the mound is a moat of water, so thick with floating magnolia buds that it is almost hard to distinguish. The glowing flowers illuminate the area softly. The tree seems to draw him towards it even though Sev knows he isn't supposed to go near it. As he gets closer, the sweet floral notes hit his nose, intoxicating him. Entranced by its beauty, Sev kneels down, reaching out to the nearest floating flower in amazement. He gently picks it up, finding it somewhat warm.

"Don't touch that!" Belle's voice growls at him.

Caught off guard, Sev spins on his heels, almost falling into the moat. He sees the witch standing mere feet away from him, furious.

"I told you the garden was forbidden," quickly she walks to him and snatches the flower out of his hand, "Get out!" she yells.

Sev stands and swiftly walks away, peering over his shoulder. The witch kneels next to the pond and gently sets the flower back into the water, lowering her head as if in prayer. He bounds up the stairs two at a time, shutting his bedroom door behind him. Leaning against it, his heart pounds as he tries to listen for the witch's footsteps, sure that she will come to punish him. Instead, he faintly hears her walk through the first floor and slam her bedroom door shut.

Sev's breathing slows as he calms down, forcing away the terror. A small scratch comes at his door, "Let me in," the cat says quietly.

"No. I do not want anymore company tonight," he replies firmly.

He lies back onto his bed and tries to sleep but instead spends hours watching the moon cross the sky over his balcony. As it begins to rain he can see in the distance, beyond the enchanted garden, a blizzard has picked up. The wind rips the snow around scattering flurries to and fro. Finally deciding that he can stand it no longer, he gets out of bed. In the wardrobe he finds a thick, wool cloak.

As quietly as possible, Sev opens his door. He isn't sure what he expected to be on the other side but the hallway is dark and empty. He creeps down the stairs, taking care not to bump into anything as he crosses the hallway and silently slips out the front door.

His horse is still saddled, standing half way across the yard with his head drooping down towards the ground; at first Sev thinks that he is still eating but when the animal jumps, he finds out that it was sleeping. Hastily he shushes it, before mounting and heading towards the gate. A small dark figure comes bounding out of the garden.

"Where are you going?" the cat calls breathlessly while running alongside the horse.

"Promise or not, I can't stay here a moment longer," he replies, heading out of the gate.

"Wait!" calls the cat but his words are drowned out by the fierce whipping winter wind. Though Sev expects it, it is still a shock when he leaves the enchanted property. The thick wool coat helps tremendously but the air is so frigid that he can feel his hands already begin to go numb. He is almost to the turn that will take him back to the path to town, when his horse stops and rears up.

From the trees creep a dozen wolves, each snarling ferociously at their next meal. The horse stamps its feet, frightened; Sev tries to calm it but when one wolf lunges forward the animal rears again, this time throwing Sev. He hits his head hard on the ground and is barely able to see the horse running back towards the safety of the witch's house.

He rises to his feet only to find them unsteady while his head is spinning; he manages to grab a branch from the brush and swings at the wolves as they advance towards him. Slowly he tries to back away, following the horse but he is surrounded. Snarling and chomping, they leap for him; he manages to hit one in the side eliciting a yelp but it doesn't make much of a difference as there are still eleven hungry mouths ready for food.

From above a branch snaps and crashes to the ground crushing four of the wolves beneath it. Sev turns to see the witch with her arms outstretched towards the brush. Her hood has fallen back, her wild hair whipping around in the wind while she has a fearsome, determined look on her face. With a flick of her wrist, twigs reach out and wrap around more of the wolves, squeezing until the yelping stops. Another advances towards Sev but he manages to connect the branch to its head, knocking it out cold. He turns in time to see the remaining two advancing on Belle; she holds a knife in her hand. Ducking out of the way when one of them jumps at her, she slices its gut open. The second one she doesn't see coming and it tackles her from behind, knocking her to the ground.

Sev tries to rush to her aid, struggling against the deep snow. To his horror he watches the two struggle in a blur of fur and clothing only to hear her scream out in pain when the beast claws at her back. There is a loud cry; Sev can't tell if it comes from human or beast. Suddenly all movement stops. He is close enough now to watch the snow turn red.

The witch shoves the dead animal off of her and rises, unsteadily to her feet. She looks around frantically until she sees Sev, at which point relief washes across her pale skin. Within a few seconds her eyes close. Her body sways before she crumples back onto the ground.

Finally reaching her, Sev puts his hand on her chest; he feels her heart still beating. He tries to gently shake her but there is no response. He sits back on his heels, weighing his options; he could grab his horse and go home, leaving her to surely die from exposure and the wound on her back. But—she did save his life, risking her own in the process, even though he broke his promise. He sighs, picking her up. She is surprisingly light, making it not quite as difficult as he thought to carry her back through the snow and into the house.

Laying her gently on the lounge in front of the fire, he carefully removes her cloak. Cat watches, concerned, but doesn't say a word. Sev finds that her outer dress is practically torn to shreds in the back, soaked in her blood from the deep gashes. He presses a clean cloth into the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Belle groans in pain though still unconscious. It takes a while but soon the flow lessens. Carefully he peels off the blood soaked cloth, dropping it into a bowl that wandered over from the kitchen. Just as he reaches to press another one on her back, her eyes spring open, wild with confusion. She twists around and swings wildly at Sev, not recognizing him.

He ducks her blow, catching her wrist so that she doesn't do it again, "Belle, calm down," he says sternly.

As the realization crosses her face, it soon turns in to annoyance; but when she sits up, it turns into a twist of pain. Her wounds start bleeding again; Sev quickly places the cloth on her back, on causing her to shout.

"Ouch!" she growls.

"Well if you would have held still, it wouldn't hurt as much," he retorts.

"Well if you wouldn't have run away, I wouldn't have gotten hurt!" She hisses.

"I wouldn't have run away if you hadn't frightened me!" He removes his hand angrily, letting the blood drip down her back.

"Maybe you should learn to listen," her voice rises in pitch.

"Maybe you should learn to control your temper," he doesn't back down.

Belle opens her mouth to retort but shuts it and turns her head away from him. Cat watches them curiously from the safety of the rug.

"Now, hold still," he puts the cloth back into place, "do you have any medicine to stop the bleeding?"

She exhales, as if to quell her anger. Very quietly, she says, "In the room across from the dining room, far cabinet, top shelf, amber colored jar."

Sev leaves the rag in the bowl, walking out of the drawing room. He reminds himself, over and over, that he needs to be patient with her. Looking up, he sees the thick, three armed log peeking out from the dining room.

"Well, don't just stand there," Sev says to it, half wondering if he has gone crazy, "I need some warm water, soap, bandages and a lot of towels."

The log straightens up, raising an arm to his chef's hat in salute before disappearing into the kitchen. Sev shakes his head in astonishment while opening the door into a large room full of cabinets. In the middle is a tall wooden work table full of glass bottles, scales, beakers, candles, mortars and a few other things that he cannot identify. From the ceiling hangs a large wire rack, from which several bunches of drying herbs and plants dangle. If he were small minded like a majority of the townsfolk back home, he would jump to the conclusion that she is making potions for her witchcraft but he knows better. He has seen equipment like this in the pharmacy—though her supply is easily twice as big. He makes his way to the cabinet which is packed to the brim with neatly labeled jars of all shapes, sizes and colors. Luckily, on the top shelf there is only one amber colored jar, labeled 'Salve #17—Deep Open Wound.' He has to climb onto a stool to reach it. When he returns to her, he finds a pot of warm water at the base of the lounge, with the log standing over it—two arms holding a stack of towels and the third a bar of soap.

Sev sets the jar down, taking the towels and soap before the log wanders off again.

"I need to clean the wound out," he tries to say gently.

"Yea, no shit," she snaps.

"You'll have to undress," he is unable to restrain the irritation in his voice. He wonders if he should have just left her out there and went home.

Belle turns her head slightly towards him, seemly unnerved a bit. He finds it odd that she is hesitant to rise. Her feet are unsteady, so Sev offers a hand to help her—she refuses.

Struggling to get her overdress off, she lets it fall to the floor in shreds. She sits at the base of the lounge with her back to Sev and the fire; her voice, though stern, has a hit of worry in it, "You'll have to unlace my corset," she says to him.

Sev looks at her back in the firelight; the claw marks start from her left shoulder and extend diagonally down her back towards the middle. The wolf slashed through her corset and even if he could figure out how to unlace the thing in the first place, it would be next to impossible.

"I think it would be less painful if I cut it off," he says, rising to go into the kitchen without waiting for her argument.

The three armed log keeps a tight ship; everything is spotless and precisely put away in its own place. The cabinet containing the dishes has a drawer, in which Sev finds a perfect row of knives. He reaches in but stops, wondering if the knives were enchanted as well. If he startled one, would it stab him? Hesitantly, he pokes a knife; no response. Rolling his eyes at himself, he picks up the knife and leaves the kitchen. As he returns to the drawing room, he sees Belle face on, sitting patiently on the edge of the lounge. She stares at the floor, arms clenching the top of her underdress tightly, nervously.

As gently as he can, Sev cuts through the laces with the knife. As he peels back the corset, he can see Belle tense with pain, though she doesn't cry out.

"Can you lower your gown?"

She hesitates. Slowly she slides out of each sleeve, folding her thin arms over her chest before letting her gown drop down to her waist, exposing her bare skin. The scrolling scars cover her everywhere; forming an oddly beautiful design in the creaminess of her supple skin, they are marred only by the deep gashes on her back. From this angle he can see the slight curves of her breast, the feminine indentation at her waist and the ample angles of her hips.

Sev takes a deep breath, trying to refocus his thoughts on the task at hand, though it is difficult as she is the first woman he has seen this exposed. He can feel his cheeks burn, glad that her back is to him as he rolls up a towel and mounds it against her rear to catch the water as it pours over her. He dips a cup into the pot, pausing before he proceeds, "This will hurt. A lot," he adds.