Beloved Beast

Chapter Twenty-Four

Beyond the colorless, pitted stone of the castle walls, a scintillating sunrise had flourished and bathed the verdant countryside and the quiescent village in a dew-laden sheen. The shimmering early light ignited the swaying oak, embellishing deciduous hues of red, gold, and yellow to a vibrant splash of pastels amidst otherwise a mass of drab and brown. These flaky fragments were plucked from their seasoned limbs by an autumnal gust to flit and skirt across the vast, damp foliage.

For one with unseeing eyes, the colorful and picturesque morning would have no tactile sway on her senses, for it fell short of the stronghold and failed to percolate or penetrate the solid chambers in which Elle found herself committed to.

Comprised of dust and dark matter, the chilly air was consistent of a closed and shuttered room, where sunlight, among other things, was staved off by thick tapestries and unsympathetic stone. It held little vestiges of the outside world, emitting but marginal traces of its brooding keeper in small earthy and masculine whiffs whenever the counterpane was stirred.

Seated before the hearth, her legs tucked beneath her, Elle listened as the dying embers fought to sustain their final breaths of vitality. Rubbing her arms, she pressed deeper into the over-sized chair, seeking to ward off the advancing chill with its downy softness.

In the village, just before her sisters would arise to tend to the livestock, Elle would often take a measured stroll along the trees. There, a convergence of vegetation and wildlife could be revered on one's senses; the air redolent with the loss of leaves and replete with a saline mist whilst songbirds trilled a sweet warble in tandem with a gentle, lulling wind as it rustled through intertwined branches.

It was a welcoming reprieve from the myriad of harsh whispers that assailed her daily, an entity of tranquility that Elle relished with every dawn but found wanting desperately of in this gelid and ruined turret.

Just on the other side of the door, a soft shuffling could be heard.

Unfolding her legs from the chair, the muscles there cramped with minor discomfort as she slowly came to her feet. As the latch registered with a groan, like most of the uncared-for things that dwelled here, her hands coasted across the seated frame and came to rest on its high back.

"Good morning, Lucy." She called in warm greeting as the maid's heels scurried into the room.

"Oh!" Lucy exclaimed in an unpleasant tone, whipping past Elle in a fuss of rustling skirts and clattering porcelain. "'Tis dreadfully cold in here! You must be frozen to the bone."

"'Tis not all that bad." Elle remarked, suppressing a shiver with a shrug of her slender shoulders.

"Not all that bad?" Lucy mirrored in a shrill voice. "Do you favor your fingers and toes?" There was another rapid flutter of wool and nimble feet followed by some imperceptible mumbling about receiving a harsh lecture.

With a playful grin, Elle feigned a casual mien of indifference as she tapped her chin with her forefinger. "Well, should I have the misfortune of losing my extremities via the dreadful chill, there are always my elbows and heels to steer me about."

"This is no laughing matter!" Lucy cried partly in earnest, for her inflection had lightened a degree at Elle's jest. "Lord Rossetti will be most displeased were he to discover his guest half frozen being that I failed to stoke the fire when needed, and rightly so!"

Elle laughed as she angled an ear in an effort to track the maid's frenzied activity. "Come now, Lucy. I'm much too spirited to congeal to ice."