[Uneducated Swine]
Smooth was the stone, but that made it no softer on his body. Sprawled on the cobblestone, Seifer's opened his eyes. The shadows of twilight twisted the face of the impassive statue before him, shrouded its empty face, blackened what must have been intricate features before the night had awakened.The limitless galaxy was filled with the mischievous winks of stars. It was like the sky was a canvas, the darkness watered down and bleeding into the world, and all the lights above him were supposed to spell out some greater purpose. Perhaps one day his name would be written there on the expansive, celestial parchment, with that glittering ink, with the invisible fingers of fate.
The youth was forced to dismiss such musings. A nauseating ache pulsed between his temples with enough force to blur his vision. Seifer willed his body to obey him, to snap into action, to move - but his only result was a pathetic flop of a hand. His knuckles rapped once against the stone beneath him, and the sound was followed by a series of taps. The rhythmic footsteps fueled him with just enough energy to roll over, legs strewn haphazardly on the pavement, body propped up by a sore elbow and attached arm. Through his consequent wince, he was able to see nothing more than several more pairs of statues that lined the way to an unbelievably large door. Any sign of the owner of those steps had vanished with his movement. It was eerily silent.
Seifer clenched his jaw and suppressed a groan as he drew up a knee beneath him and placed his palms flat on the surface of the ground. He concentrated on breathing once, twice, and in the process of the third he pushed himself up to stand. On his feet, he exhaled roughly and glanced around. Only slight larger than life-size as a whole, meticulously-carved bodies stood tall and hunched over similarly realistic spears; six faces gazed down at the road darkly, the nearest one glowering at him in a way that was akin to condemnation. Aside from the marble carvings, there was nothing else - not so much as railing or flowers or a person in sight.
Slowly he stepped toward the edge of the stone. Dense and impenetrable by the naked eye, fog rolled in sluggish waves just under the surface. The mass of it was endless, stretched out to the horizon on either side. A glance to his right allowed him to note the iron gate arching up before him, easily twice his height, unmoving and fastened together by chains made of the same material. The bars were slick with moisture from the dank atmosphere and there would be no hopes of even climbing up halfway where steel curved in an elegant fashion between the metal rods.
To his left, Seifer noted the exact same metalwork on another door; this one, however, was wooden. It was what he had first seen when he had moved onto his stomach moments previous. There was no lock evident on this side of it. The blond judged that this was his only option unless he held faith that there was solid ground a short distance from the drop off the bridge. He was not that optimistic.
The walk to the other end was several dozen yards. His pace was unhurried, but his mind raced to both develop questions and to find answers to them. This was obviously not Twilight Town, so where was he? How was he brought here? Was he the only one? How long had he been there, lying vulnerable on stone? What if the door before him was barricaded on the other side and left him trapped?
The stream of unknown factors faded as he stopped short just in front of the door. Above it, a bestial head carving protruded out of the stone wall and stared past him as if he was not worth acknowledgment. He glared at it for a moment, then gave the wood a push. It remained motionless and so he attempted again, harder. The door creaked in protest but made no other signs of budging. Seifer sucked in a breath and slammed his shoulder into the large slab, gave it another shove, and it cracked open a bit at that. He repeated the action, this time with a grunt, and it allowed him enough room to squeeze through the opening.
As he stepped through the gateway, Seifer noticed in the center of the lot a distinct circular design encircled by eight gargoyles fashioned of marble. Behind it was an extraordinary doorway lined on both sides by enormous towers of which narrowed into peaks sporting identical belfries. The place struck him as overly fancy architecture that belonged in the dark ages; it was neither streamlined or golden or glorious like his home. Foreboding and bleak, it was suitable for little else but brooding.
From behind him came a painful grab around his right calf. He half-turned and craned his neck back to see what had dared to attack him. The heartless canine peered up at him dumbly, eyes vacant and tongue lolled out to the side between its razor set of teeth. It looked so mindless and pathetic that he was almost surprised at his blood that was leaking from its grasp. He kicked his leg out to remove the offending creature, but it held fast and uttered a low growl.
Frustration set in Seifer. He was stranded, alone, in a strange world; his body still ached from what he surmised must have been a strong impact on the stone; his shoulder protested from when he had slammed into the door; a migraine threatened a blackout - and here this runt of a heartless had selected his flesh for a meal. He was Seifer, head of the Disciplinary Committee! He was king of his castle and he deserved better than this! If nothing else, he had kicked his own grandmother's dog into submission; why would this mongrel receive any more mercy?
Indignant and snarling, he dropped down and balanced himself on a hand and a left-legged crouch. The Rabid Dog eyed him with a hollow look even as he pulled his free hand back, balled it into a fist, and connected it into the dark animal's mug. It was forced to release its hold and it bounced off the ground first on its side, then on its cranium, which propelled it into a somersault over onto its unsteady feet. Dazed, it peered at him and reassessed the value and abilities of its opponent.
Seifer was very tempted to, even without a weapon, pound the heartless into a pulp. He was more than prepared to follow through with that urge and leapt to his feet, but his instincts warned him to choose his battles wisely. Out of his peripheral vision he was aware of more movement, and he turned his head to see what had caught his eye.
Scores more of Rabid Dogs had materialized not only in that corner of the courtyard, but in the opposite end as well. Hundreds of them frothed at the mouth, all eager to sink their teeth into his life-filled body. Dry humor floated in the back of his mind at the sight, that surely not all of them could possibly hope to be satisfied by one human boy. Regardless, he had no intentions of staying put to discover the possibilities. He turned and was faced with what he initially assumed was a deformed knight with atrocious fashion sense. Within seconds he recognized the heartless symbol engraved on its over-sized lance.
The weapon was thrust forward at him and he dropped to the ground. The Rabid Dogs leaped forward at the chance to devour him, but Seifer rolled to his feet and began a crazed dash for the large door. There was no concern of whether it was locked; his survival was hinged on the hope that, somehow, he could make it through to the other side and lock out his enemies.
As he sprinted, the wind screamed in his ears and deafened him to all but the dim chorus of barks and the erratic drumming in his chest. He was nearly oblivious to the slice through the air just behind his head as the Lancer tottered swiftly after him, the tip of its weapon caught on the surface of his beanie. The hat was left behind to the puzzled heartless commander, and it slowed to a halt to regard the head-ware quizzically as dogs flooded past it in a frenzy.
Seifer collided against the door and it swung inwards. He toppled over onto the marble floor and felt the abrasive sting of friction on his elbows and shins as he slid forward. The wood slammed against the adjoining wall and the force of it caused it to return back to nearly shut in the frame - but almost was not enough. He scrambled to his feet and, with a mighty shove, shut the door in the face of several yapping creatures. One tongue was trapped between the two doors, and he took satisfaction in the unearthly yowl from the little beast as it realized its predicament.
The adrenaline wore off quickly and he was left panting and shaky, albeit wonderfully safer. The insides reflected the previous two locations, and the same person must have constructed the entire estate. From the outside, the building looked magnificent, but only past the entrance would one be able to note the gargantuan proportions of the area and its true resplendence. Awe enveloped him as he made his way forward to the center of the hall. Pillars encompassed him, either six or eight - he could hardly tell, with twin doors on both sides. To his front, the staircase beckoned him to explore his way straight up to the grand door, and the curves of it coming around like a ram's horns were no less inviting.
Before he could so much as consider the first step, a door to his right was thrust open. The size of the figure alone was intimidating enough to make him step back. Seifer darted behind a pillar, the girth sufficient enough to allow him to remain inconspicuous - or so he thought. The entity lifted its unusually-shaped head and there was a rough snort. Consequently, a gruff voice, baritone, reverberated throughout the space.
"You can come out. You are clumsy on your feet and you bear a noticeable odor. I would not care to have my enemies subject to the beasts outside, in any case. You are welcome to stay here until they leave."
After his ordeal, Seifer had little doubt that he had worked up a sweat, but he must have been two or three dozen feet away! It would have been impossible under usual normal circumstances to have smelled anything short of a rotting corpse; then again, this was hardly normal.
Though apprehensive, he stepped to the side and revealed himself. His eyes had not adjusted to the dim light just yet; above him were light fixtures that, at a glance, appeared as if they had not been used for decades. As it was, he could not have guessed the race of his host, but the mystery vanished, as did his composure, as the larger male stepped out of the heavier shadows.
The Beast towered over him, nearly two feet taller, and examined him with distrustful scrutiny. Horns curved, the points ending neatly an inch or so above lighter and bushy brows. From there was the start of a barbaric nose which traveled down between pronounced cheekbones, and underneath the snout was a thick lip, from out of which stuck out two noticeable fangs. His hands and feet were lined with sharp claws, and from behind him was a bush of a tail. Every bit of him covered in hair, it would have been difficult not to mistake the creature for another heartless monster - except that he wore a royal purple cloak, the fabric draped around him like a blanket, and that was fastened by an expensive gold clasp, undoubtedly valuable although scratched up a bit.
Seifer wanted to crawl outside and die. He had escaped from the clutches of heartless only to die at the hands of a giant, inhumane being. As he stood stiffly for some uneventful time, he realized that his fate might have an alternate route. A question gave his heart a nasty start.
"Do you know how you came here?"
The blond cleared his throat and assumed a measure of dignity. He strained his neck to look up at Beast as he addressed him.
"No, and I want to get out of here. This place is a hellhole." At the insulted glare, he only pressed on, "You should keep it in better condition if you expect people to live here. It's run down by heartless and cobwebs and a bunch of depressing junk."
The youth was abruptly interrupted by a massive paw that fisted into the front of his vest. He was surprised that the claws had not pierced through and raked through his flesh, but one look at his host's face indicated that such a thing was not improbable.
"Are you always so asinine as a guest, or is this a rare case from a near-death experience? If you would like, I can throw you back out to the dogs and see if your attitude improves then."
Seifer frowned and tried to free himself, but his hands were diminutive compared to the other male's. He grabbed fistfuls of hair and yanked in protest.
"I would rather not die in such a miserable place, or in such a cruddy way. Now put me down before I-"
"Before you what? Make my paws bare with your desperate pulls, before they crush you?"
Beast shot a disgusted - perhaps even slightly humored - glance at his guest and tossed the male unceremoniously to the ground. The human released a guttural noise, swung an arm halfway around a pillar, and pulled himself up. The throw had more strength behind it than had been anticipated, and that was an unintentional incident. Seifer made a note to be polite to prevent further injury. He sucked in a breath and even offered an apology.
"Look, I didn't mean to offend you, whatever your name is - if you have a name, that is - I only meant that you should probably have a place worth looking at if you're so protective over it."
"Life is not all about appearances, boy," came the sour response. Seifer crinkled his nose and added, "Maybe not, but it sure helps."
"Let me tell you something. This castle is mine, and I am the king of it."
The youth scoffed and rolled his eyes despite the danger of another powerful swipe. None came. Beast went on, oblivious to the rude gesture.
"I mean that more than an overused term. I have lived here my entire life; I was born and raised in this building. Before my current state, I was a prince considered handsome, and I wallowed in comfort and luxury. My wealth was limitless. The decorations on these premises were not gifts from the poor to appease me; they were purchased with the intention of impressing the common folk so that they would be in awe of me - admire me. Now I am reduced to this," the male gestured to himself, paw sweeping around his front.
Seifer ran fingers through his hair and, with some curiosity, observed the horned creature. This once had been a prosperous man of some royal bloodline? It seemed far fetched. Beast seemed certain of it, and his tone was convincing as he continued.
"I had everything that I could have wanted, but I sorely lacked a thing I truly needed. Everything was about the surface, of putting a decent facade so that people would believe that I was the type of person they should be - a symbol of what they could be. Against my advisors, I insisted on pairing with only the finest women and associating with only extremely successful businessmen. I was hardly fair; instead, I was conceited and pompous. The welfare of the people was not my real reason for ruling. I was a sham.
I thought that no one would ever see past the mask or the lies of my life that I had woven together to protect my image. Boy, you spoke a lot of appearances, but when it comes to what is inside of you, what do you know?"
The smaller male blinked at this. He had to wonder just what his host was trying to say. It was becoming complicated and very personal; he had no desire to become involved with matters of the latter. There was little choice in the matter. He was held hostage by a man - a beast - consumed with the path, and the dire need to remain safe.
"Years ago, through those very doors you walked in, there was an old beggar woman. She pleaded for shelter, much as you did. Her face was wrinkled with signs of age, her nose crooked, her clothing tattered; she could have been nothing more than the lowest of peasants. I turned her away based on looks alone. I could not bear the thought of what my staff might think - what rumors might spread throughout the town - if I had been seen with a pitiful, frail and ugly woman. It would have ruined all the efforts I had invested toward an ideal world.
When I turned away, only then was my folly made evident to me. The woman was not a beggar, but an enchantress of prestige. I was so stunned by her beauty that I asked her to reconsider, but she had already been repulsed by the true nature of my heart. My face and physique meant nothing to her. She put me under a curse and transformed me into this form under the claim that it was the actual appearance of who I was inside. She forced me to come to terms with the reality of myself; her conditions demanded that I look past myself to see the effects of my decisions on my entire household, but within and without.
Do you see those gargoyles there by the steps?"
Seifer cocked his head to the side and took in the ornate stone. Its toothed scowl sneered at him. He was more than amused at it - at the entire fantasy. This old man was obviously off his rocker, but it was a way to pass the time until the danger passed.
"Yeah, I see them. They're alright."
"Those were once glorious statues of cherubs. The same is for those lining my rooftops. Once, the lights were lit and the entire estate was furnished with life and color. Because of my curse, all of our appearances have been altered."
"Our? You mean you have other 'people' here with you?"
"My staff, and Belle."
"Oh, a girlfriend?"
"Nothing like that!" Beast roared, though he was clearly flustered. "She is more than a title. She is my light in the darkness; she is my hope and my salvation."
The intensity of that statement unnerved Seifer. He coughed and crossed his arms over his chest, and tilted his neck to each side to loosen the tension in the muscles.
"Look, I appeciate you telling me all this, I think, but what's the point? According to you, I'm just some naive kid here loitering on your property until the monsters outside hit the road."
"Because those before you have already taken on experience as a tutor. You need not be the same. This is not mercy; this is practicality. You are young now and your strength is most evident in your body, but when you become stooped and elder, those around you should be able to see a fire in your eyes. There should still be a strength that comes from inside of you that is enough to last for an eternity, to be passed down through generations. Everyone must develop themselves and mature in their hearts. There will come a time that you will need to overcome your greatest foe: yourself. Could you honestly claim victory over that now?"
The stark expression on the blond's face spoke volumes of his uncertainty. The Beast only gazed at him with penetrating, ice blue eyes, his own face grim and somber. At great length, the silence was broken by the creak of the door. The youth jumped, startled, but the other male only turned smoothly on his hind paws and addressed the visitor with a warm smile.
"I'm back, Beast. I brought wine for dinner. Your courtyard is a mess, did something happen?"
"Belle."
The woman had entered safely and had also left the entrance door open behind her. Past her, Seifer could see the vacant stretch of outside. He turned to explain to Beast that it was time for him to depart, but the couple to his side were occupied in an embrace and conversation. He took it as a cue to excuse himself silently.
As he reached the doorway, he glanced back at the sound of an additional voice, this one with a nasal accent.
"Ah, the Master has returned! And the girl with the rose-colored heart!"
He expected a snobbish steward with ridiculous hair and even a similar cape to that of his employer. Instead, he saw a candelabra hopping across the room from the side door. Seifer donned an incredulous look and could only shake his head. He stepped out back into the night and the sounds behind him were soon forgotten as he soon stood back on the length of the bridge, head tilted back so he could gaze up at the stars.
He had a lot to learn.
The youth was forced to dismiss such musings. A nauseating ache pulsed between his temples with enough force to blur his vision. Seifer willed his body to obey him, to snap into action, to move - but his only result was a pathetic flop of a hand. His knuckles rapped once against the stone beneath him, and the sound was followed by a series of taps. The rhythmic footsteps fueled him with just enough energy to roll over, legs strewn haphazardly on the pavement, body propped up by a sore elbow and attached arm. Through his consequent wince, he was able to see nothing more than several more pairs of statues that lined the way to an unbelievably large door. Any sign of the owner of those steps had vanished with his movement. It was eerily silent.
Seifer clenched his jaw and suppressed a groan as he drew up a knee beneath him and placed his palms flat on the surface of the ground. He concentrated on breathing once, twice, and in the process of the third he pushed himself up to stand. On his feet, he exhaled roughly and glanced around. Only slight larger than life-size as a whole, meticulously-carved bodies stood tall and hunched over similarly realistic spears; six faces gazed down at the road darkly, the nearest one glowering at him in a way that was akin to condemnation. Aside from the marble carvings, there was nothing else - not so much as railing or flowers or a person in sight.
Slowly he stepped toward the edge of the stone. Dense and impenetrable by the naked eye, fog rolled in sluggish waves just under the surface. The mass of it was endless, stretched out to the horizon on either side. A glance to his right allowed him to note the iron gate arching up before him, easily twice his height, unmoving and fastened together by chains made of the same material. The bars were slick with moisture from the dank atmosphere and there would be no hopes of even climbing up halfway where steel curved in an elegant fashion between the metal rods.
To his left, Seifer noted the exact same metalwork on another door; this one, however, was wooden. It was what he had first seen when he had moved onto his stomach moments previous. There was no lock evident on this side of it. The blond judged that this was his only option unless he held faith that there was solid ground a short distance from the drop off the bridge. He was not that optimistic.
The walk to the other end was several dozen yards. His pace was unhurried, but his mind raced to both develop questions and to find answers to them. This was obviously not Twilight Town, so where was he? How was he brought here? Was he the only one? How long had he been there, lying vulnerable on stone? What if the door before him was barricaded on the other side and left him trapped?
The stream of unknown factors faded as he stopped short just in front of the door. Above it, a bestial head carving protruded out of the stone wall and stared past him as if he was not worth acknowledgment. He glared at it for a moment, then gave the wood a push. It remained motionless and so he attempted again, harder. The door creaked in protest but made no other signs of budging. Seifer sucked in a breath and slammed his shoulder into the large slab, gave it another shove, and it cracked open a bit at that. He repeated the action, this time with a grunt, and it allowed him enough room to squeeze through the opening.
As he stepped through the gateway, Seifer noticed in the center of the lot a distinct circular design encircled by eight gargoyles fashioned of marble. Behind it was an extraordinary doorway lined on both sides by enormous towers of which narrowed into peaks sporting identical belfries. The place struck him as overly fancy architecture that belonged in the dark ages; it was neither streamlined or golden or glorious like his home. Foreboding and bleak, it was suitable for little else but brooding.
From behind him came a painful grab around his right calf. He half-turned and craned his neck back to see what had dared to attack him. The heartless canine peered up at him dumbly, eyes vacant and tongue lolled out to the side between its razor set of teeth. It looked so mindless and pathetic that he was almost surprised at his blood that was leaking from its grasp. He kicked his leg out to remove the offending creature, but it held fast and uttered a low growl.
Frustration set in Seifer. He was stranded, alone, in a strange world; his body still ached from what he surmised must have been a strong impact on the stone; his shoulder protested from when he had slammed into the door; a migraine threatened a blackout - and here this runt of a heartless had selected his flesh for a meal. He was Seifer, head of the Disciplinary Committee! He was king of his castle and he deserved better than this! If nothing else, he had kicked his own grandmother's dog into submission; why would this mongrel receive any more mercy?
Indignant and snarling, he dropped down and balanced himself on a hand and a left-legged crouch. The Rabid Dog eyed him with a hollow look even as he pulled his free hand back, balled it into a fist, and connected it into the dark animal's mug. It was forced to release its hold and it bounced off the ground first on its side, then on its cranium, which propelled it into a somersault over onto its unsteady feet. Dazed, it peered at him and reassessed the value and abilities of its opponent.
Seifer was very tempted to, even without a weapon, pound the heartless into a pulp. He was more than prepared to follow through with that urge and leapt to his feet, but his instincts warned him to choose his battles wisely. Out of his peripheral vision he was aware of more movement, and he turned his head to see what had caught his eye.
Scores more of Rabid Dogs had materialized not only in that corner of the courtyard, but in the opposite end as well. Hundreds of them frothed at the mouth, all eager to sink their teeth into his life-filled body. Dry humor floated in the back of his mind at the sight, that surely not all of them could possibly hope to be satisfied by one human boy. Regardless, he had no intentions of staying put to discover the possibilities. He turned and was faced with what he initially assumed was a deformed knight with atrocious fashion sense. Within seconds he recognized the heartless symbol engraved on its over-sized lance.
The weapon was thrust forward at him and he dropped to the ground. The Rabid Dogs leaped forward at the chance to devour him, but Seifer rolled to his feet and began a crazed dash for the large door. There was no concern of whether it was locked; his survival was hinged on the hope that, somehow, he could make it through to the other side and lock out his enemies.
As he sprinted, the wind screamed in his ears and deafened him to all but the dim chorus of barks and the erratic drumming in his chest. He was nearly oblivious to the slice through the air just behind his head as the Lancer tottered swiftly after him, the tip of its weapon caught on the surface of his beanie. The hat was left behind to the puzzled heartless commander, and it slowed to a halt to regard the head-ware quizzically as dogs flooded past it in a frenzy.
Seifer collided against the door and it swung inwards. He toppled over onto the marble floor and felt the abrasive sting of friction on his elbows and shins as he slid forward. The wood slammed against the adjoining wall and the force of it caused it to return back to nearly shut in the frame - but almost was not enough. He scrambled to his feet and, with a mighty shove, shut the door in the face of several yapping creatures. One tongue was trapped between the two doors, and he took satisfaction in the unearthly yowl from the little beast as it realized its predicament.
The adrenaline wore off quickly and he was left panting and shaky, albeit wonderfully safer. The insides reflected the previous two locations, and the same person must have constructed the entire estate. From the outside, the building looked magnificent, but only past the entrance would one be able to note the gargantuan proportions of the area and its true resplendence. Awe enveloped him as he made his way forward to the center of the hall. Pillars encompassed him, either six or eight - he could hardly tell, with twin doors on both sides. To his front, the staircase beckoned him to explore his way straight up to the grand door, and the curves of it coming around like a ram's horns were no less inviting.
Before he could so much as consider the first step, a door to his right was thrust open. The size of the figure alone was intimidating enough to make him step back. Seifer darted behind a pillar, the girth sufficient enough to allow him to remain inconspicuous - or so he thought. The entity lifted its unusually-shaped head and there was a rough snort. Consequently, a gruff voice, baritone, reverberated throughout the space.
"You can come out. You are clumsy on your feet and you bear a noticeable odor. I would not care to have my enemies subject to the beasts outside, in any case. You are welcome to stay here until they leave."
After his ordeal, Seifer had little doubt that he had worked up a sweat, but he must have been two or three dozen feet away! It would have been impossible under usual normal circumstances to have smelled anything short of a rotting corpse; then again, this was hardly normal.
Though apprehensive, he stepped to the side and revealed himself. His eyes had not adjusted to the dim light just yet; above him were light fixtures that, at a glance, appeared as if they had not been used for decades. As it was, he could not have guessed the race of his host, but the mystery vanished, as did his composure, as the larger male stepped out of the heavier shadows.
The Beast towered over him, nearly two feet taller, and examined him with distrustful scrutiny. Horns curved, the points ending neatly an inch or so above lighter and bushy brows. From there was the start of a barbaric nose which traveled down between pronounced cheekbones, and underneath the snout was a thick lip, from out of which stuck out two noticeable fangs. His hands and feet were lined with sharp claws, and from behind him was a bush of a tail. Every bit of him covered in hair, it would have been difficult not to mistake the creature for another heartless monster - except that he wore a royal purple cloak, the fabric draped around him like a blanket, and that was fastened by an expensive gold clasp, undoubtedly valuable although scratched up a bit.
Seifer wanted to crawl outside and die. He had escaped from the clutches of heartless only to die at the hands of a giant, inhumane being. As he stood stiffly for some uneventful time, he realized that his fate might have an alternate route. A question gave his heart a nasty start.
"Do you know how you came here?"
The blond cleared his throat and assumed a measure of dignity. He strained his neck to look up at Beast as he addressed him.
"No, and I want to get out of here. This place is a hellhole." At the insulted glare, he only pressed on, "You should keep it in better condition if you expect people to live here. It's run down by heartless and cobwebs and a bunch of depressing junk."
The youth was abruptly interrupted by a massive paw that fisted into the front of his vest. He was surprised that the claws had not pierced through and raked through his flesh, but one look at his host's face indicated that such a thing was not improbable.
"Are you always so asinine as a guest, or is this a rare case from a near-death experience? If you would like, I can throw you back out to the dogs and see if your attitude improves then."
Seifer frowned and tried to free himself, but his hands were diminutive compared to the other male's. He grabbed fistfuls of hair and yanked in protest.
"I would rather not die in such a miserable place, or in such a cruddy way. Now put me down before I-"
"Before you what? Make my paws bare with your desperate pulls, before they crush you?"
Beast shot a disgusted - perhaps even slightly humored - glance at his guest and tossed the male unceremoniously to the ground. The human released a guttural noise, swung an arm halfway around a pillar, and pulled himself up. The throw had more strength behind it than had been anticipated, and that was an unintentional incident. Seifer made a note to be polite to prevent further injury. He sucked in a breath and even offered an apology.
"Look, I didn't mean to offend you, whatever your name is - if you have a name, that is - I only meant that you should probably have a place worth looking at if you're so protective over it."
"Life is not all about appearances, boy," came the sour response. Seifer crinkled his nose and added, "Maybe not, but it sure helps."
"Let me tell you something. This castle is mine, and I am the king of it."
The youth scoffed and rolled his eyes despite the danger of another powerful swipe. None came. Beast went on, oblivious to the rude gesture.
"I mean that more than an overused term. I have lived here my entire life; I was born and raised in this building. Before my current state, I was a prince considered handsome, and I wallowed in comfort and luxury. My wealth was limitless. The decorations on these premises were not gifts from the poor to appease me; they were purchased with the intention of impressing the common folk so that they would be in awe of me - admire me. Now I am reduced to this," the male gestured to himself, paw sweeping around his front.
Seifer ran fingers through his hair and, with some curiosity, observed the horned creature. This once had been a prosperous man of some royal bloodline? It seemed far fetched. Beast seemed certain of it, and his tone was convincing as he continued.
"I had everything that I could have wanted, but I sorely lacked a thing I truly needed. Everything was about the surface, of putting a decent facade so that people would believe that I was the type of person they should be - a symbol of what they could be. Against my advisors, I insisted on pairing with only the finest women and associating with only extremely successful businessmen. I was hardly fair; instead, I was conceited and pompous. The welfare of the people was not my real reason for ruling. I was a sham.
I thought that no one would ever see past the mask or the lies of my life that I had woven together to protect my image. Boy, you spoke a lot of appearances, but when it comes to what is inside of you, what do you know?"
The smaller male blinked at this. He had to wonder just what his host was trying to say. It was becoming complicated and very personal; he had no desire to become involved with matters of the latter. There was little choice in the matter. He was held hostage by a man - a beast - consumed with the path, and the dire need to remain safe.
"Years ago, through those very doors you walked in, there was an old beggar woman. She pleaded for shelter, much as you did. Her face was wrinkled with signs of age, her nose crooked, her clothing tattered; she could have been nothing more than the lowest of peasants. I turned her away based on looks alone. I could not bear the thought of what my staff might think - what rumors might spread throughout the town - if I had been seen with a pitiful, frail and ugly woman. It would have ruined all the efforts I had invested toward an ideal world.
When I turned away, only then was my folly made evident to me. The woman was not a beggar, but an enchantress of prestige. I was so stunned by her beauty that I asked her to reconsider, but she had already been repulsed by the true nature of my heart. My face and physique meant nothing to her. She put me under a curse and transformed me into this form under the claim that it was the actual appearance of who I was inside. She forced me to come to terms with the reality of myself; her conditions demanded that I look past myself to see the effects of my decisions on my entire household, but within and without.
Do you see those gargoyles there by the steps?"
Seifer cocked his head to the side and took in the ornate stone. Its toothed scowl sneered at him. He was more than amused at it - at the entire fantasy. This old man was obviously off his rocker, but it was a way to pass the time until the danger passed.
"Yeah, I see them. They're alright."
"Those were once glorious statues of cherubs. The same is for those lining my rooftops. Once, the lights were lit and the entire estate was furnished with life and color. Because of my curse, all of our appearances have been altered."
"Our? You mean you have other 'people' here with you?"
"My staff, and Belle."
"Oh, a girlfriend?"
"Nothing like that!" Beast roared, though he was clearly flustered. "She is more than a title. She is my light in the darkness; she is my hope and my salvation."
The intensity of that statement unnerved Seifer. He coughed and crossed his arms over his chest, and tilted his neck to each side to loosen the tension in the muscles.
"Look, I appeciate you telling me all this, I think, but what's the point? According to you, I'm just some naive kid here loitering on your property until the monsters outside hit the road."
"Because those before you have already taken on experience as a tutor. You need not be the same. This is not mercy; this is practicality. You are young now and your strength is most evident in your body, but when you become stooped and elder, those around you should be able to see a fire in your eyes. There should still be a strength that comes from inside of you that is enough to last for an eternity, to be passed down through generations. Everyone must develop themselves and mature in their hearts. There will come a time that you will need to overcome your greatest foe: yourself. Could you honestly claim victory over that now?"
The stark expression on the blond's face spoke volumes of his uncertainty. The Beast only gazed at him with penetrating, ice blue eyes, his own face grim and somber. At great length, the silence was broken by the creak of the door. The youth jumped, startled, but the other male only turned smoothly on his hind paws and addressed the visitor with a warm smile.
"I'm back, Beast. I brought wine for dinner. Your courtyard is a mess, did something happen?"
"Belle."
The woman had entered safely and had also left the entrance door open behind her. Past her, Seifer could see the vacant stretch of outside. He turned to explain to Beast that it was time for him to depart, but the couple to his side were occupied in an embrace and conversation. He took it as a cue to excuse himself silently.
As he reached the doorway, he glanced back at the sound of an additional voice, this one with a nasal accent.
"Ah, the Master has returned! And the girl with the rose-colored heart!"
He expected a snobbish steward with ridiculous hair and even a similar cape to that of his employer. Instead, he saw a candelabra hopping across the room from the side door. Seifer donned an incredulous look and could only shake his head. He stepped out back into the night and the sounds behind him were soon forgotten as he soon stood back on the length of the bridge, head tilted back so he could gaze up at the stars.
He had a lot to learn.