The Heart Collector
As part of his curse from the Witch of the Waste, Howl truly does go around eating beautiful girl's hearts and collecting them in his castle. But a magical lock on Sophie's heart prevents her from harm time and again. He'd give anything to break that seal, if he could only find the key. "Finders keepers," Calcifer warned. "Losers weepers." {What-if fic}{Elements of film and novel.}
Disclaimer: I own nothing! ;)
Chapter 1: In Which Howl and Sophie Dance on the Clouds
Far too crowded for a game of Cat and Mouse today, but the buoyant celebrations in the town of Market Chipping hadn't deterred Howl from roaming the chaotic streets.
With each brisk step, Howl knew the Witch of the Waste and her assailants were slithering behind, but from the amiable smile he wore to match the pleasantry exuding from his glass-marble blue eyes, one would suggest that he hadn't truly minded. In a way, he was honored the witch would take such measures in pursuing him, especially after the last occasion they'd properly spoken… It made his vanity level rise at an alarming rate, even if his paranoia rose with it.
Running is such a bother, Howl thought as he paced. But he couldn't deny that he was an expert in the cowardly area.
His long, chin-length blond hair swayed with each step, and his emerald teardrop earrings moved in unpredictable directions whenever he'd maneuver around some townsfolk. Some men who spared him a glance took note of his envious, flamboyant wardrobe—a white tunic, dark slacks, matching black shoes, and a pink tailored coat hanging from his shoulders designed with large, grey diamond patterns on every inch of the beautiful fabric except for the yellow trimmed sleeves. The sleeves had a gold lining to resemble the collar, along with the rest of the trim on the embroidered craftsmanship.
Some women, however, took no interest in his attire. Their only focus was his youthful, attractive physical features—qualities attained by spending hours in his bathroom.
In truth, Howl was quite average, with mud colored hair that was nothing to fawn over, but he'd never allow such a secret to be revealed. Narcissism at it's finest…
"Oh!" a middle-aged brunette woman said in surprise. She felt a gentle hand touch the pink fabric on the small of her back, and her brown eyes looked up to meet irises belonging to Howl as he kindly ushered her out of his way to avoid bumping into her through the crowded area.
He flashed her a brilliant smile as he passed, even going so far as taking her right hand in his left, and relishing the mesmerized way she ogled. "Excuse me," was all he said before he left her presence—but not before allowing the tips of his fingers to linger against hers.
"My goodness," the woman whispered.
"Oh mother," the woman's daughter practically whined nearby. "Do stop drooling…" It was embarrassing for a woman her age, but the girl had also nearly swooned at the sight of Howl's smile, feeling a flush on her cheeks.
What a handsome young man, the woman thought. She quickly turned to her daughter. "What are you waiting for, dear?! Go after him!" She had no shame in allowing her daughter to pursue such a fine specimen—who probably had wealth beyond her lower-middle class status. There was no greater joy to her than having her daughter marry someone of a higher rank.
Had she known who Howl was, and how insensible he was with money, she wouldn't have rushed her daughter into the clutches of the unidentified heart collector…
Although Howl had gone, he'd left the impression he'd intended with the woman, her daughter, and the Witch of the Waste—but the last of the three had been more out of mockery above all else. "It won't be long now," he whispered. He was glad to round the corner to find the stone streets empty, even more complacent when he heard the small patter of the woman's daughter behind him.
I don't even have to chase today. They just come to me… He knew this situation had derived from the results of his curse, which was becoming stronger as the weeks progressed. It was quite incredible to know that one spell could be so prevailing, so horrifyingly deceptive to witness from his perspective as the receivers he lured all suffered the same fate: death.
And the creature he turned into… the very thought of it frightened him, causing him to close his eyes in a solemn moment of reflection.
"H-hello there," was the shy call.
Howl paused, feigning innocence as he turned his head. He hadn't bothered to gaze at her directly. "Yes?" He didn't wish to do this, and yet somehow a voice in his mind urged him that this was the right thing to do—that this act of mercilessness had been ethical.
Howl was cursed, yes, and very much possessed because of it.
The girl felt a little weak at the knees upon hearing the alluring, soothing sound of his deceiving voice. She noted it was laced with somewhat of a rasp to it. Delightful to the ears…
When Howl heard no reply, he turned fully to examine the girl who'd trailed him. Green eyes and golden curls with coral lipstick and a white dress... She's wearing that dress? Howl mused incredulously, tilting his head. It was ghastly, a contrast to her beauty. After all the effort she went through to make the rest of herself seem so pretty… He certainly felt like giving her some pointers. Perhaps spending a few more hours on her wardrobe than just her make-up in the bathroom…
Her mother cleans up better, he concluded as an afterthought. And the woman hadn't been too appalling to gaze upon, either—save for the few wrinkles around her mouth, which he suspected had been produced from years of catty chatter and gossip among her friends.
Perhaps Howl was trying to steal the wrong heart today…?
No, Howl decided. She'll do.
She was youthful, after all, but he still felt uncertain… And yet, the more the girl paced towards him, the more he knew he was unable to deny such a pretty face with a heart so willing. The curse wouldn't allow him to do so, even as he tried to turn tail and run, he knew from the moment she touched his right arm that he couldn't—not just yet—not until he'd ripped her heart out and either ate it, or stored it in his castle and left the scene of the crime... and the body along with it...
He had quite the collection…
"Who are you?" the girl asked curiously.
Their questions are always the same… The lines delivered from the reckless ones such as these… The girls in Porthaven were quicker to bait, though—much to his dismay whenever he was aware of morality. They didn't ask him anything; he simply led and they freely followed… He suspected that it was possibly because of their lower-class ranking and eagerness to rise up.
The heart never lies…
He was correct. Their innermost fantasies revealed all that he needed to know, and Howl could read them well… Most yearned for romance, and he'd give them their last request in their final hours… He had to blink a few times to snap out of his reverie, forcing himself not to dwell on the cruel sufferings he'd inflicted.
Although Howl felt sorry for what he was about to ask, he couldn't bring it in himself to stop. "Will you meet me tonight?" He hadn't bothered to give her any information pertaining to him, and suddenly, after seeing the eager—mind you, foolish—way the girl nodded in agreement, he didn't feel the need to spare her even the simplest of sympathies for taking her heart once the sun had set.
With a gentle brush of his back fingers against her cheek, he smiled. "Tonight then," he whispered.
"I-in this very spot?" The naivety in her tone was false, like the zeal exposed on her smile.
The wizard inclined his head once more. "What's wrong with this spot?" he asked, taking her hand. He'd spoken this with a bit of a tease in his voice. "It's the perfect place to be alone." As he kissed her hand, the ends of his lips curled upward, knowing the Witch of the Waste's henchmen were stalking them nearby. "I'll steal you away and take you dancing on the clouds."
He'd spoken this out of spite to his observing foe in the shadows.
"Dancing on the…?" the girl asked in awe. Steal…? Why does my heart feel so… so visible? Her eyes widened and she took an abrasive step away from him. "Are you… are you the Wizard Howl, the heart eater?"
I prefer the title of 'heart collector' at this point, he retorted. It sounded more refined than gruesome, like 'heart eater' had. Besides, he had dozens in his collection. "…Are you afraid of me?" He refused to answer any question she inquired of him, knowing it was best to entice her without titles to prevent any needless afterthoughts of regret.
Yes, but I can't leave... She was under the merciless trappings of the curse. After a moment, she took a freeing step towards him, feeling her fear leave her for some unknown reason. "No," she whispered. It was a lie.
She's not even trying to fight it… Howl produced a red rose out of thin air, placing it in her hand. "For you." As he'd spoken this, Sophie Hatter had just rounded the corner.
She was wearing a simple hat with a red ribbon attached, a grey dress, dark stockings, and brown boots to compliment her dull attire. Her brown eyes were wide with surprise at the intimate sight she'd intruded upon, and her long, braided, reddish-gold hair swayed as she took a few retreating steps. Her fingers gripped the small red box of crème cakes she carried from the bakery with anxiety. "Oh! I'm—I'm sorry…"
Howl almost laughed upon seeing the way her cheeks had flushed a lovely scarlet. She looks frightened. Does she know who I am…? No one had ever seen his face and lived when he was prowling. The thought of adding her to his game caused his smile to widen, and the unnamed girl cast Sophie a peeved look.
His eyes remind me of glass marbles, Sophie mused. How odd…
When Sophie saw the stare the girl was giving her, she had truly wanted to give her the same expression in return—or perhaps an earful of how desperate the girl looked for fawning over such a suspicious—quite colorful—man alone… but as she deliberated it, she was reminded of her sister, Lettie, who'd warned her of the faceless heart collector…
"Sophie, you've got to be more careful wandering around by yourself," Lettie explained. Her sister was a blue-eyed beauty, with the face of Sophie's stepmother, and golden hair to match. The concern in her eyes as she quickly patted off some crumbs on her apron and red pastry dress were enough to make Sophie feel guilty about visiting her on such a busy day. She barely had time to say her sister's name before Lettie wiped at the remaining pastry crumbs from her hands and seized Sophie's wrist, leading her to the back of the shop so they could talk in private.
Once they'd made it to the small storage room, she asked, "Were you bothered along the way?" Her eyebrows were lifting inquisitively as she sank down on some low-stacked boxes and gently pulled Sophie's hands in a silent message for her to do the same.
"No," Sophie replied.
Lettie squeezed her sister's hand. "You know the witches and wizards—"
"I'm all right, Lettie," Sophie assured her, sounding a little frustrated. When Lettie frowned, she said, "Really. You needn't worry yourself so much." The assurance in her fib matched her confidence—nonexistent.
"But I worry all the time," Lettie stated. She sighed, never releasing Sophie's hands and she absently entwined their fingers. "You're always in the hat shop."
"It was father's," Sophie reminded. It was a dull life to live behind those walls, as dull as Sophie often felt… It wasn't easy being the first born… She could certainly vouch for that.
Lettie acknowledged this with a sullen nod. "Mother would understand if you left. I know you must get bored there, Sophie."
Not this again, Sophie mused, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Lettie had been trying to persuade her to find a life of her own since the three of them had been placed in their respective workshops after their father's passing, but Sophie refused.
Sophie Hatter didn't understand her worth, nor had she comprehended that living a life everyone else wanted was no life at all, and it was far worse than not taking a leap of faith in pursuing one of her own free will…
"Lettie," Sophie spoke up. "I'm fine… I really am." Perhaps if she'd spoken this enough times, she would be.
Lettie didn't believe her; no sensible sister would. "Sophie—"
"Lettie!" someone called. "The buns are ready!"
"Just a moment, Carrie!" she called back.
Sophie felt as if she'd overstayed her short welcome. "I shouldn't have come on such a hectic day." It was May Day for heaven's sake and she felt emotionally drained from all the bustle.
"No," Lettie disagreed. "I'm glad you did." She embraced her sister with loving arms, having wanted to do so for a while. "I've missed you. You really should get out more." Sophie agreed with a small hum, returning the sentimental gesture.
As Lettie pulled away at arms length, she eyed Sophie with a peculiar fear overpowering her mixed expressions. "…Did you hear that the wizard Howl ate another girl's heart yesterday?" The news made Sophie's own heart sank due to her alarm. "They found her body on the pier," Lettie explained. She paled at the thought and brought her left hand up to her chest, imagining such a cruel act being delivered upon herself. "It was awful, Sophie. Her heart had been ripped right from her chest…!"
Sophie's brows knitted into an expression of disgust. "How does everyone know that it was actually eaten?"
"It's just a rumor," Lettie said, pulling a folded 'Wanted' poster out of her pocket. "But he didn't leave hers so he must've eaten it." As she handed the crumbled paper to Sophie, she said, "Rumor has it he's done this before—and sometimes, he'll even keep it as prize."
Sophie wasn't afraid of a rumor but there was no picture on the paper in her hands. All it said was: Wanted, Dead or Alive. The Heart Collector, Wizard Howl. 1,000,000 Reward.
The word 'Alive' had been crossed out to ensure that whoever made the design wanted to see Howl's body delivered to them without a pulse. "I don't understand how a person could—"
"Not a person," Lettie tried to reason. "A wizard—a monster if there ever was one—and no one knows what he looks like except his victims." Lettie fixed a stray bang on Sophie's forehead, being mindful not ask her to wear her hair down like she had last time they'd spoken. Sophie's temper was nothing to battle against.
"The worse part about all of this is that Howl's castle always drifts by in the waste," Lettie finished.
"But no one ever travels to the waste," Sophie finished, knowing that Howl would remain free. "That's terrible..."
Not as terrible as living with the idea of taking so many lives…
Howl snapped Sophie out of her memories with a slight chuckle. He was three feet in front on her now, leaning forward with his knuckles on his hips while his next victim stood a little ways off. "Did we startle you?"
Alarmed, Sophie murmured a quick, "I'll…" She clasped her hands together around her box of crème cakes while Howl waited for her to speak. He'd thought her expression was due to his looks upon first glance, but when he sensed her shifty uneasiness, he almost frowned.
She knows… or at least suspects, he mused. This wouldn't do, not if he wanted to keep a decent amount of privacy. He'd mistaken the anxiousness on her expression—which had been produced from venturing outside for the first time in while on such a bustling day—with nervousness upon possibly suspecting him. His paranoia of being discovered was in overdrive, and because of this, he knew he'd have to get rid of any unwanted suspicion.
Sophie Hatter had just made herself a personalized target of the heart collector.
"I'll just be on my way," Sophie told him, and hurried off.
Oh no you won't. The curse weighed in on him with urgency, beckoning him to go after both Sophie and the girl still nearest to him.
Before the girl he'd been previously luring could get another opportunity to speak, Howl smiled and placed a chaste kiss against her hand, knowing that he'd feast on two hearts before the day started anew.
"W-where are you going?" the girl asked.
"Tonight," Howl said as he walked off. He turned his head as he walked, placing a single finger against his lips. "Meet me, but it's our little secret—just between us, all right?" He knew the curse would prevent her from saying 'no'.
"Yes," she agreed, worried that she so easily fell for the man. Her eyes were now glass, matching his own. "Yes, of course…"
As if you'd decline, he thought dolefully. "That's my girl," he forced out instead, before traveling onto the same street that Sophie had.
It wasn't until moments later, when a flash of black caught his eye, that he found a reason to actually smile. "Uh-oh, am I the mouse now?" There was a bit of lightheartedness in his tone. As the remnants of what looked to be the witch's henchmen seeped from the cracks of the streets and slithered towards him, he propped his knuckles on his hips. "I guess I've got no choice but to play along now." He liked running; evading them would be a breeze.
However, he wished that he had seen Sophie Hatter before he took off down the street and rounded the other corner, effectively colliding into her small frame from behind and tumbling over her in the process.
The only thing that saved Sophie's face from slamming into the stone was her quickness to extend her arms to shield her from head damage—but she'd skidded her forearms and elbows against the stone in the process. The crème cakes she'd received from Lettie were a splattered messed inside the open box nearby…
Howl, who had caught himself at last second during the fall, was currently above her, and pushed up with his palms near either side of her shoulders as to not squish her petite frame. With a tired rolling maneuver, he moved to lie beside her, on his back to catch his breath and get over his shock.
"I scraped my jacket," he said, sounding partially offended and accusatory.
Sophie gave him an incredulous look at his declaration.
Strike one.
Even the moral side of Howl appeared to be utterly disappointed to the point of being melodramatic of what had occurred—much ado about nothing, really. The material had barely brushed against the earth since his coat had fallen off and landed nearby. The damage wasn't noticeable—save for a small amount of dust—but he was unaware of this from not having properly inspected it. It had touched the ground in which people walked.
It was tainted in his eyes, ruined by bumping into Sophie.
Sophie, however, was pretty sure that whatever rips she found, she could salvage by stitching it up with a simple thimble, needle and thread.
"And my shoes are scuffed," Howl droned on as an afterthought, not bothering to look at his feet as he placed his forearm over his eyes.
Sophie's temper was rising at the childish display.
Strike two.
She sat up with an appalled expression dominating her disheveled features. That's what you say after knocking me over? She was mere moments away from giving him and earful but she winced, peering down at her arms.
When Howl lowered his arm from his eyes and noticed the fresh blood staining the forearm areas of Sophie's dress, he sat up, arching his brow as he gently took her by her right elbow and looked on with a perplexed gaze. At first she thought she was examining her wounds by the attentive way his temperate had shifted—and the way his fingers hovered over the rips and scuff marks—but when he scrunched his face and commented, "The red is the only thing worth saving on this dull dress," she decided that he cared nothing for her scratches.
Howl couldn't tell whether his blunt comment had been because he was possessed or because of his own vanity. He decided that perhaps it was both.
Meanwhile, Sophie was livid.
If she'd only taken the time to inspect the once aching areas under her damaged garments, she'd have known that Howl had given her enough thought to heal them. However, she didn't, and because of this, Sophie lost her temper.
Strike three.
Snatching her arm away, she gave him a contrite look, noticing her hat and shawl were flying further off down the street from the light breeze that drifted around them. "You knock me over, harm me, and instead of apologizing, you—you have the nerve to insult my dress?!"
Howl did not like confrontation—nor did he like to get angered in return—and he was little more than baffled to detect such hostility radiating from what he thought to be a quite girl. She's quite pretty when she's yelling… He inclined his head to the right, eyebrows rising at revelation of this new, highly unwelcome, development. "You're upset." He'd spoken it so casually, as if he were chatting in an idle manner about a rumor he'd heard. The irony that he was the biggest rumor in Ingary…
Sophie didn't know if she'd be able to stop herself once she smacked him, so she decided against it. As she pointed her finger at him, she shouted, "You—!"
Howl was quick to place his right hand over her lips.
"You're really a terror when you're mad, aren't you?" he asked, ignoring the way she began struggling. His eyes zeroed in on the henchmen creeping onto the street. "I'm being followed by the Witch of the Waste and all you care about is yourself?" When Sophie's eyes enlarged from the shocker, he nodded. "See now? My problem seems bigger than your dress, doesn't it?" He had a point, in a narcissistic way—but there was truth behind it. He liked teasing her, just to see that look on her face.
She grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand from her lips. "You're quite vain."
"Name me a human that isn't vain at least once in their life," he demanded back. When Sophie couldn't come up with an answer, he nodded. "I believe I'm just more frank about it."
"So you're running away?" she asked him.
"Wouldn't you?"
"Not in an isolated area," Sophie countered. "Possibly with more people around to make a better escape since she probably wouldn't reveal herself to the public."
Howl rolled his eyes, giving her an unfortunate look. "You clearly don't know what this woman is like…"
"But you do," Sophie reminded. "Or else you wouldn't be running."
"I'm not running," Howl said, sounding a bit dignified as he turned his nose up. He caught sight of something dark in the left corner of his eye… "I'm just truly committed to rushing around with no commitment—and great caution…" That summed Howl up perfectly.
Before he could hear her rebuttal, he scooped her up by her hands and leapt into the air, seconds before the henchmen closed in on them.
Sophie closed her eyes and held her breath as she prepared for the worst, falling, but once she felt a secure hand around her waist, along with Howl holding her left palm, she peeked her eyes open.
The superlative view took her breath away.
Howl was walking in midair, mindful that her legs were still scrunched together—close to his—while he drifted with her, and he even gave her a reassuring grin with she peered up at him.
"Just relax," he instructed. "Spread your legs and walk." For emphasis, he made a light pace, watching in amusement as she did the same. "…You're perfect." A natural... He sounded genuinely impressed that she so easily fell into step with him.
With a bit more confidence than her previous feelings of anger or fear, Sophie smiled up at him, noting the arm he'd looped around her waist traveled up to lace his right hand in hers.
The sensation of being in the air as the people celebrated down below was exhilarating. It was something she'd only dreamed about once as a little girl, something impossible…
Magical.
Howl wouldn't voice it, but he was enjoying himself, too. He did this often, and most of the girls would be afraid to join in, even when he tried to dance with them and held them close, but Sophie was a free spirit if given the opportunity… when her guard was down…
But the guard on her heart was still fortified.
"Where were you headed?" he asked. Part of him wanted to make sure she got to her next destination safely, while the crazed half made him feel impatient to bait her away and feast on her heart.
"Home," Sophie answered, unsure of why she was telling him. It was as if an unknown presence were making her speak truthfully now, demanding that she give herself to him…
Suddenly, she felt afraid, even as Howl smiled down at her and said, "Lead the way." He twirled her twice before leaping further up into the sky, seeing the flash of distress in her eyes as she realized he must've been the wizard from the wanted posters, the heart collector.
But he only goes after pretty girls, she thought. Maybe he was bored and wanted someone… different. She couldn't bring it in herself to say unattractive or hideous…
The expression of horror Sophie wore only egged Howl on to dance with her while she tried her best to assess what was proceeding. She didn't want her heart to be ripped out and eaten, for Lettie and Martha to hear about her body that had been left to rot...
A chill gave her goose bumps as Howl dipped his head down to whisper in her ear. "You're not leading. Do I have to guess where you live?" The tease in his tone didn't quite seem match the wicked smile was giving her. Perhaps it was due to the sympathy flashing in his eyes. Howl was certain now that she'd discovered who he was…
He'd have to kill her, and she wasn't even supposed to die today...
Pity.
Sophie swallowed the saliva that had collected into her mouth, feeling some resolve as she placed her hand on his left shoulder and squeezed his right palm in her own, making sure to keep up with his fluid dance movements while she debated on what she should do next.
"You can't have it," she told him bravely. Shaking her head, she said, "My heart belongs to me."
Hang onto that courage, he thought, unable to warn her. Hold it fast...
Despite this, Howl laughed cruelly, and Sophie heard somewhat of a rancorous deep voice laced over his own. He sounded frightening and hollow... heartless. "I'll feast on it if I please," he assured her, and Sophie watched as dark blue feathers protruded out of his face in the shape of a circle, leaving only the area around his eyes, nose, and lips unchanged. The rest of the feathers emerged from his clothes and the remaining skin on his body, engulfing him until all that was left to be seen were black talons inching their way out of his large claws, which used to be his hands and feet. Eventually, the feathers on his arm grew into large wings...
Sensing the challenge, Sophie narrowed her eyes—despite her terror. "You can try." Her voice was quiet, yet unwavering. What if I die here...
A feathered claw lifted in Sophie's direction, rising with an intent to slash… an intent to kill. The talon were fidgeting, itching to rip heart out...
But Howl was brought back to his senses when he saw Sophie's face begin to morph into several layers of dry... of dry...
Wrinkles?!
With a shriek of spooked surprise, Howl accidentally released Sophie, watching her fall below as she let out a throaty, ghastly scream.
She'd changed into a woman who looked no younger than ninety, and although Howl hadn't quite gotten a good glimpse of all of her physical features, he'd seen enough to know that she was far too aged to be pursuing. Even a heartless man such as him had limitations...
He paused in midair for a good ten seconds, taking in the sorcery he'd just witnessed. She gave me quite a fright...
Once he got over his shock, he flew down after her. He was so high up that she was unable to be seen through the array of clouds he flew through, but once he was farther down, he could see her small frame falling. Her desperate scream sounded much higher now, and from what he could tell, her hair was no longer gray like it had been in those briefest of moments. Sophie had returned to her youthful state.
As she tumbled towards the brown and red covered buildings of Market Chipping, Howl debated on whether or not he'd be able to reach her. It'll be a stretch... A growl erupted from his throat and he rushed further down, picking up speed and feeling the breeze lash out at his face the longer he descended his fall from grace.
It'd be a pity if she went splat before he could feast on her heart...
The only way you'll die is by my hands. He stretched his right claw forward, trying his best to grab her before she could crash to her demise, and during the first reach, he missed.
Because of this slip-up, Sophie's body nearly hit a red tiled roof.
He even managed to scrape his own left wing against the edge of said covering due to his larger size, throwing him slightly off with a grunt of pain... but during his second attempt, he caught her by the waist and landed onto the street, thankful that it was deserted.
Had he caught her a second later at that unforgivable angle, her head would've rammed into the pavement, along with her feet, and the friction probably would've caused her head to actually snap (although he was sure she was suffering from a dose of whiplash). There were barely a few centimeters between that almost mishap, and in order to feast on her heart, she needed to be alive... not exactly healthy, but alive...
And more importantly, young... as youthful as she looked resting in his feathered arms now…
Howl watched as Sophie's right hand inched its way to her neck while she kept her eyes closed and groaned. He actually took a moment to inspect her delicate features during her ailing moment... It was a shame something so beautiful always had to die by his hands... a never-ending cycle…
When Sophie opened her eyes, and her blurry vision came into focus with Howl's monstrous face, she gasped. Howl didn't seem to mind that she quickly pushed herself away and frantically scooted onto the other side of the street, near the base of a brown building. "L-leave me alone!" she screamed. Maybe if I shout enough someone will hear me...!
But there was no one who'd hear her call above the celebrations. The fireworks had started and the sun was soon to set.
And Howl felt more than a little baffled at the young woman on the opposite side of the street.
He couldn't quite read Sophie's expression anymore, and to say he was perplexed was an understatement. He saw that her right brow was quirked up, but the other was curled downward and squished in a way that gave her a few wrinkles on her forehead. Her head was inclined to the left while the rest of her upper torso was leaning against the brown brick. Her legs were curled underneath her and her dress was critically wrinkled…
Sophie's hair was a disheveled mess, and her bangs were giving off a chaotic aura as they stuck out in odd directions. Her right hand was placed on her heart—as if she were protecting the area—and her eyes remained on the glass-marble ones observing her.
Howl still hadn't changed back into a human from his creaturely state, much too absorbed in the girl before him. "You… you were so old," he stated incredulously. "As if…" He inched forward to attack her with his left set of talons as a sort of test, only to pause when he saw her body morph into that of an elderly, haggardly woman once more. He didn't take in her features, opting to look away with a cringe.
Once again, Sophie didn't look a day under ninety years of age.
When he lowered his claw back to his side, and tried to remove all thoughts of harming her, he glanced back over to see that she had reverted back into her youthful appearance. She… she must be a witch! "You cursed yourself to protect yourself... from my curse?!"
Sophie didn't understand. As far as she was concerned, she was perfectly normal, perfectly dull and certainly not gorgeous enough for the Howl the Heart Collector to even be sparing her a glance. She hugged herself as she eyed him, still catching her breath. "W-What are you on about?!"
The game of Cat and Mouse...
Its rules had definitely changed.
…
A/N: This is my first fanfic in this archive! Yass! *coughs* So, I wanted majority of this fic to be told from close third in Howl's perspective, simply because the untrue gossip in the novel and film about him being wicked are true in this fic. Having read and watched both, I'm a fan of both so there will be reminiscent areas that will hopefully remind people of both.
As far as characterization, I'm not sure how well I'm doing so far. I tried combining the personalities and dialogue of the novel and film but I'm finding it to be a heck of struggle. I'm not sure if the scenarios sound legit. Feedback is welcome—and extremely important—in all areas and thanks for reading this!
-AJ