Hiccup had seen a lot of strange and terrifying things in his short life, but right now he didn't think he could rank any of them as worse than this. In Berk, they'd always taught everyone to hold it in and be strong, to save tears for the days when things were really at their worst. He didn't know what world this woman came from, but it was easy to tell something was hurting her.
"H-hey...are you, um, are you okay?" That was a stupid question, of course she wasn't, but he figured it would give her the chance to tell him to bug off if she wanted to.
Belle lifted her gaze, a look of slight shock on her face. She shouldn't be surprised. She was in a public place and she had no idea what to do with the things in front of her. She drew in a slow breath and faced the young man, trying to put this to words.
"No," she confessed, her voice low. "These things, these things aren't supposed to be so lifeless."
He didn't think he understood, but Hiccup was pretty sure that having a dragon for a best friend left him in a position to judge. "What happened to them?"
Belle's face underwent a sudden roll of turmoil at the thought of something happened to them. She shook her head and took a deep breath as she brushed a loving finger over the curve of the teapot. "The last time I saw them, they could speak to me."
Jacob? Never much of a reader. He'd been trying more a little lately since it seemed to be Belle's favorite activity but he'd much rather listen to music, work on the spare parts he'd gotten last year or put together a plan for his kayaking club. None of those really required reading.
So he'd mostly been kicking around the bookshelf to be with Belle, liking how she looked when she was concentrating on something and when he saw her kneel on the floor he was quick to follow.
No matter how hard she fought, every breath she drew seemed to quiver in her chest like she had a terrible cold and she fought to grasp hold of his shirt and pull him closer, using his shoulders as a grip and a reminder that she could hold onto something.
She turned her cheek to look at the objects, taking in a heavy inhalation. "They're not supposed to be like that, Jacob. They're people. They were people," she struggled to explain without sounding crazy.
They'd talked about the castle before a few times, talked about how the china and the clocks and things were enchanted but he never thought he'd see it. Jacob guessed he wasn't; the items on the table weren't talking or moving at all.
"Maybe they are again? I mean, look at it like this...the castle had to have candlesticks and brooms and stuff before everyone got the spell put on them, right? Maybe they're people again and that's why this stuff is here."
It was hopeful. It was optimistic and it was something that hadn't even occurred to her. Belle grasped at his clothing a little tighter, her eyes wide as she stared at Jacob, except that the hope was only short-lived. "I had to break the curse," she said softly. "Remember? And I don't know if I did."
Billy'd stopped by the kitchen before his evening class, and hadn't noticed Belle come in behind him until he hear her speak. Putting down knife and fruit he'd been slicing, he wiped his hand on his shorts and crouched down next to her.
"Hey," he said softly, wondering why it was that things could go so well for a little while, then something happened to knock you off kilter. "What's wrong?"
Belle inhaled a little shakily, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hands as she tried to find a type of calm. "I don't know how to explain it without sounding crazy," she admitted with a push of laughter.
Belle took a deep breath and resettled in her position, giving Billy an awkward look as she sat on her hands. "These things, these aren't just things. They're supposed to be people, too. They shouldn't be so silent."
I've come some way from the time Medusa managed to ambush me armed only with a burka and the promise of cheeseburgers. I can still be caught by surprise (as Annabeth and Coraline take no end of delight pointing out), but my instincts have been honed somewhat by my summers at Camp Halfblood. Sometimes, it's something in the stance of your own compatriot that tells you that something horrible is about to happen.
I was seeing that same stance in Belle.
For a moment, I stood frozen, staring at her, and staring at what she was staring at. Then before I had a chance to say anything, the woman burst into tears. She was crying over... kitchenware.
Well, at least I was smart enough to know that this was no ordinary kitchenware.
I came forward immediately, put a hand on her shoulder -- the prelude to a hug if she needed it. "Belle? Belle, what's wrong? What's the matter?"
Belle tried to steady her tears, but it seemed so silly and so heartbreaking at the same time. It was difficult to even explain without sounding impossibly mad, but she didn't want to deny her friends the dignity of an attempt. "These things," she said, her voice steady despite the tears on her face, "They're so lifeless. And they shouldn't be."
Still holding Belle's shoulder, I looked back at the kitchenware, processing what she'd said. I'd been no stranger to things others might call magical, but there was still that initial flash of 'how could a teapot be anything but lifeless'? But then another part of me intervened. 'What if these things had been alive? What had the Island done to make them not?'
In that second, I had a flash that must have been at least a fraction of what Belle was feeling now. I felt a surge of revulsion. Had the Island killed these things?
And what in Tartarus could I say to that?
"Belle, I'm sorry," I said, turning back to her. I tried to think of something else to say, but I think I needed to know more. "What happened? What's supposed to happen?"
She shook her head, feeling almost frantic at the thought of something happening to them. Worse than knowing that she might have done something wrong was the not knowing. It killed her, it really did. "They're supposed to be people, Percy," she said plaintively, her voice small.
It was entirely possible that to most people, the scene in front of them, that of a pretty girl crying her eyes out over accent furniture, looked entirely ridiculous. But Claire Bennet was nothing if not a diehard fan of Disney and traditional animation, and so she'd been able to tell what was wrong immediately upon looking at the spread of pieces in front of Belle. And in fact, her own stomach dropped a bit at the sight, breath catching in her throat. Not that she would have known what to do if any of them were still moving, breathing, talking, but just seeing them all lifeless, that was its own punch to the gut. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her capris, slowly approaching Belle and unsure what condolences she could offer
( ... )
"Claire," Belle said with mild surprise, knowing that she was in a public place but having someone come up on her was still something of a shock to her system. It was just that she didn't expect it, that was all. "Oh, Claire, I'm sorry," she spoke softly. "I don't know how to put it into words without sounding silly."
Upon being apologized to, rather than demanding one (not that Claire thought Belle would, but the former was clearly the intruder on the scene), Claire rushed forward and shook her head, a gentle hand moving to rest on Belle's back as she made a small hushing noise, more in an attempt to calm the other girl than because she was distraught with the volume. "Belle, if something's upsetting you," Claire said firmly, though her voice was quiet, "then it's not silly. It won't sound silly. I just want to make sure that you're okay."
Belle's face contorted with worry, with fear, and maybe the prospect of Gaston's warning of a madhouse for her Papa lingered in the back of her mind. It would make her sound mad and what would happen to her, then? Belle trusted Claire, though. She wasn't like the terrible people she had known in her life. "These things, when they had life and a voice, they were my friends," she spoke in a small voice.
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"H-hey...are you, um, are you okay?" That was a stupid question, of course she wasn't, but he figured it would give her the chance to tell him to bug off if she wanted to.
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"No," she confessed, her voice low. "These things, these things aren't supposed to be so lifeless."
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So he'd mostly been kicking around the bookshelf to be with Belle, liking how she looked when she was concentrating on something and when he saw her kneel on the floor he was quick to follow.
"What's wrong, Belle?"
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She turned her cheek to look at the objects, taking in a heavy inhalation. "They're not supposed to be like that, Jacob. They're people. They were people," she struggled to explain without sounding crazy.
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"Maybe they are again? I mean, look at it like this...the castle had to have candlesticks and brooms and stuff before everyone got the spell put on them, right? Maybe they're people again and that's why this stuff is here."
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"Hey," he said softly, wondering why it was that things could go so well for a little while, then something happened to knock you off kilter. "What's wrong?"
Reply
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I was seeing that same stance in Belle.
For a moment, I stood frozen, staring at her, and staring at what she was staring at. Then before I had a chance to say anything, the woman burst into tears. She was crying over... kitchenware.
Well, at least I was smart enough to know that this was no ordinary kitchenware.
I came forward immediately, put a hand on her shoulder -- the prelude to a hug if she needed it. "Belle? Belle, what's wrong? What's the matter?"
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In that second, I had a flash that must have been at least a fraction of what Belle was feeling now. I felt a surge of revulsion. Had the Island killed these things?
And what in Tartarus could I say to that?
"Belle, I'm sorry," I said, turning back to her. I tried to think of something else to say, but I think I needed to know more. "What happened? What's supposed to happen?"
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