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.
She tried to feign a bit of surprise, even though the answer was precisely the one she was expecting. Claire carefully reached out to the items, stroking them very gently with a trembling finger, as though she still half-expected that they'd wake any moment- and if she was expecting that, how much worse must Belle have had it? Licking her lips, Claire reached out to rest a hand on Belle's shoulder, hoping that it'd be reassuring, just a show of support more than anything else. She didn't need to press Belle for details. Too many people tried that with Claire herself, and she found that it never made her feel more forthcoming with details.
"Maybe this is just another island trick," she said quietly. "Things that look like your friends, but aren't actually."
Belle's thumb caught on the chip in the small teacup and she tried to accept Claire's words, but it was that small chip that continued to bring her around to doubt. "It would be so nice if that were true, but I'm not sure I can bring myself to believe it. I've been here long enough that I expect the worst. This is just like the rose, but..." But worse, it was so much worse.
There was no way to make an emotional appeal that Belle would listen to, Claire suspected. Because at the bottom of everything, she couldn't blame Belle for the way that she felt, couldn't even blame her for the worries, and it was hard indeed to reassure someone when that was the case. Instead, she rested her hand on the table and gave all of the pieces a closer look, biting her lower lip. "But anything that comes here with a soul- or anything like a human soul, anyway- turns human, right? They would be..." Her voice drifted off, the argument feeling hollow.
"Then if they're not, then they can't be," Belle picked up on Claire's train of thought, clinging to it stubbornly like a lifeline, desperately holding on as though it would bring her to some kind of peace of mind. She instantly surged forward to hug Claire, despite not being asked to, because it offered her a glimmer of an ability to not take this too deeply. "Claire, you're a wonderful friend, have I told you that?"
With a sharp intake of breath, Claire tensed at first, not having expected the hug, but it was... nice. What Claire sorely needed in the wake of everything that had happened to her as of late, and so she hugged back, a little more fiercely than the moment might have called for. While she was leaned in, her eyes misted over, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep her emotions from overflowing too much, breathing deeply and leaning back with a wide smile. "Oh, not really. My best friend back home, Zach, he's so much better at that sort of thing," she confessed. "I'm pretty sure I've learned everything from him. Besides, you're a great friend yourself, you know?"
"Sometimes I don't feel much like it," Belle admitted, a fleeting look of sheepish worry flashing over her face. "I know that I'm so quick to press my nose into a book and avoid people. I suppose it's because back where I lived, nobody really ever understood me very well."
"That doesn't make you a bad friend, though," Claire pointed out. She knew that she couldn't entirely relate, having been perfectly good at socializing, and even for a time thoroughly enjoying all that a position as cheerleader came with. She'd liked the slumber parties, painting each other's toe nails, liked gossiping about people at school, or fretting over outfits. There was a reason why cheerleaders did the things that they did, and it wasn't just for the sake of attracting boys. Common little hobbies could be fun, too. "It just means that you didn't really fit in with the majority of people in your area. I started feeling like that myself, after a while, back home. It's not easy."
"No, it's not," she agreed, her voice soft. She to mask the fact that she felt put-off by that, that she had always felt lesser than the villagers, but she tried to aspire past that. "I'm glad that I have you here, Claire. I don't know what I would do without you," she admitted honestly.
It was that statement which made Claire want to work past the way she'd often seen Belle in the past, as a Disney princess, as someone she used to aspire to. The admission was so human, vulnerable, in a way that reminded Claire of the fact that it didn't matter what work of fiction someone on the island hailed from or was introduced in. They were still all people, deserving to be treated as such, to be learned about through pure human interaction. Claire smiled, but her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, before she looked up and reached for the other girl's hand, giving it a squeeze.
"You'd get by," she laughed, smile bright. "You're strong. But I guess the point of life is that we should never be afraid to lean on our friends when they come around."
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"Maybe this is just another island trick," she said quietly. "Things that look like your friends, but aren't actually."
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"You'd get by," she laughed, smile bright. "You're strong. But I guess the point of life is that we should never be afraid to lean on our friends when they come around."
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