"Howl," Sophie said it quiet enough that if he were sleeping it wouldn't wake him. But she knew he was awake, like always. He didn't seem to sleep, and it bothered her.
"Mm," it was a noise to say, 'I hear you.' It said nothing else.
"Why is it so important to be beautiful? Before, when I was still cursed, your hair color nearly made you kill yourself."
"Don't exaggerate!" He laughed easily.
"What's the point of living if you can't be beautiful? That's what you said, Howl."
"It's not like that," he smiled at her, ruffled her hair with one hand. "Beauty is more complicated than you'd think."
"I'm afraid I don't understand." It was something she admitted frequently.
"It wasn't just that I was ugly because of the hair. It was how it made me feel."
Sophie looked at him with cold eyes. She didn't mean to be cold, but this fine boned, handsome man didn't understand what ugly truly felt like. Each morning she still ran her hands over her face, expecting to feel the topographical old woman face. All she ever felt was her face, smooth and plain.
"You can be remarkably beautiful and still be the ugliest girl in the world. I see your heart when I look in your eyes, Sophie, and there's nothing more beautiful than that."
He was excited and flushed, his hair blowing from some private, internal wind.
"Howl. I only feel beautiful when you look at me." She couldn't tell him it still didn't make her feel beautiful. It made he feel like she was worthy. Like she deserved Howl's love.
His smile shrank slightly. There would always be things he didn't understand.
There would always be things he learned in time. His heart was still young, too young to understand the pain inside Sophie's.
"Why blonde? What's more beautiful about light hair?"
His smile became private; something about his lips turned and Sophie began to feel like he was leaving her again.
He no longer flew away for days. There was little reason for that. He did, however disappear into his mind, in his studies and in his actions, and Sophie knew this made her feel worse. He was there but he wasn't. He was a million miles away and lying in the meadow next to her.
She'd never felt more alone than when he had his arms wrapped around her one freezing night.
They had stay outside, regardless of when the temperature dropped. When she could no longer feel her fingers, she said, "Let's get inside."
He looked at her, still smiling, and said, "Don't worry little girl, they're on their way."
She'd pulled him inside, sat him in front of the fire, and wept quietly in the bath.
"Howl?" she'd said his name a dozen times before he'd reawakened from his memory.
"Soapy?" it was close enough. The same smile had graced his lips.
"I was asking about your hair."
"Mm." Again, he said less than was polite.
She got slowly to he feet and began to walk away. He flung himself at her legs after she was more than a few yards away.
"Imagine the most beautiful woman, Sophie, so beautiful it hurts your heart to look at her! But it hurts far more to look away! Imagine her nose and lips and her cheeks and her eyes. Imagine her nails and hair and skin!"
"Alright, alright, I'll try." She laughed, humoring him. He was so energetic that it was quite tiring at times.
"Imagine that she's perfect. Think of her body, beneath rich clothes. Ah, the curve of her hips, the waist, the breasts…uh ha, you get the idea."
He smiled, attempting to remove the scowl from Sophie.
"I see her in my head. Get on with it."
"I met this woman once, Sophie, and she was perfect."
"Who was she?"
"She was Beauty."
"A demon of beauty? I didn't know there was such a thing."
"There isn't. She was more than that. And much less. She simply was Beauty."
"You met a living concept? I suppose stranger things have happened."
"She looked right at me and…"
Howl's eyes were boring into Sophie's. It was the same look he'd had when he stopped the battleship those weeks ago. It was frightening.
"Sophie, she could see my heart, even then. She read my soul."
"She read your soul?"
"Her eyes were like diamonds, or needles. Sharp and shiny."
"But how do you read a soul?"
He shook his head, bored of Sophie. She bogged down his story with questions!
"She looked at me, into me, and she said,"
--flashback--
"Hello little Blackbird."
"Why do you call me that?"
She looked at him with more than her eyes.
"You know why."
"My name is—"
"Your name, to me, is Blackbird."
He nodded. He was transfixed. She had an aura around her. It pulled at him gently, asking him to come with her. Asking him for his company. Calling him Blackbird.
"You are very beautiful. You will be one day."
"Beautiful?"
"I can tell."
"One day?"
She smiled with more than her face.
"I want that now. I don't want to wait."
She closed her eyes slowly and pulled him near her. She pouted her lips gently and breathed what could only be compared to the air of a moonlit desert over him.
He blinked away the magic and looked quizzical at her.
"I don't feel beautiful."
She held a small, lacquered mirror before his face. "That's the true magic, hm?"
"True magic?"
"The beautiful Blackbird doesn't feel his beauty." She kissed the back of the mirror, leaving an imprint.
He looked at himself. His eyes seemed brighter, and his hair was bright and he felt like he was glowing.
"This mirror is powerful magic. Very powerful and very old."
She handed it to him freely.
"This mirror cannot lie to you. It will always show you the essence of a creature. Never be fooled by what appears to be beautiful."
"It's dangerous?"
"The simplest magics are those which fool the eyes. Remember that it is not the object that is changed. It is what our eyes are told they see."
--end flashback--
"Howl."
"Yes."
It was more than two words could encompass. He knew what she wanted and she knew what he meant.
He pulled a small, lacquered mirror with a perfect lip print from a pocket she hadn't known existed.
"You see more than yourself. She told me, 'This mirror cannot lie.'"
"But…"
"Hm, Sophie? But what?"
"What if I look into it and I'm not beautiful?"
He stashed the mirror away, back into whenever it had come from.
"Well, then don't look into it."
"I'm sorry."
He simply smiled at her, distantly. She knew he was back there, taking a magical mirror from a perfect woman.
She was living with the man she loved and she'd never felt more alone. Of course, Howl loved her. Deeply, madly, passionately. But she wanted more than a burning magical affair. She wanted him to think of her the way she thought of him. To see her smile when he closed his eyes, rather than whatever it was that called him away, deep into his mind.
She felt like he didn't really need her. And that scared her more than any monster, witch, or demon.
Closing her eyes, she dreamed of a sweet set of hands, braiding flowers and ribbons into moonlit hair. They were not Howl's hands. She awoke with the unshakeable feeling that she was to travel very, very soon.
