Hi guys! I hope you all are enjoying my story. Sorry that the last chapter was so short. I feel that an explanation is necessary as to why this story ever became created, so here I go:
In the books, Baroness Orczy is always describing Chauvelin as pale and fox-like. My one friend, Care, read the book on my recommendation and commented on it. Somehow, we got on the subject of Chauvelin being fox-like and wouldn't it be funny if he morphed.
A while later, I was forcing her to watch the 1982 version of The Scarlet Pimpernel with Anthony Andrews and came to my favorite scene: the duel. We randomly reverted back to how funny it would be if Chauvelin morphed and one of us said that it would be hilarious if it happened during the duel….
And the story was born.
I think Care and I need help.
Anyways, here we are today. I will now continue with the story. I only have a simple request: please, please, please review! Is the story good? Is it bad? Is it okay? Or should I never write again and hide in a hole the rest of my life? Tell me what you think! No foul language in the reviews is all I ask.
REVIEW!
Now to the story.
"Oh my God," someone whispered.
Everyone clustered in closer as Percy moved away from the huddled form. Chauvelin lay slightly curled with his new appendage lying on the floor stretched behind him. The 20 men and the lone woman peered closely at Chauvelin, dumbstruck at what they saw. As they looked on, the Frenchman's eyelids fluttered slightly, signaling his return to the waking world. The small group backed up to give him breathing room as he awoke. Slowly, his eyes opened, but he soon closed them again.
"Ugh…" Chauvelin grunted softly as he pushed his body in a sitting position. He rubbed his face slowly. "My head…" he muttered softly as he did so. He moved his hand up over his head to brush his hair out of his face… and suddenly met with an obstruction. It was warm and furry. There was a dip in it and he could feel the coarse hairs. It gave way slightly beneath his hand. He moved his other hand up and found another object there as well. It struck him that everyone was breathing really loudly. Or… was his hearing amplified? He gasped at the implications of this. His hands flew from his head to the tail behind him as he shot off the floor. Pulling the furry object out in front where he could see it, he stroked it slightly.
"I have a fox's tail..." he whispered quietly to himself. "Could it be...I also... have the... ears?" A glance around the circle that surrounded him confirmed his suspicions.
"Dieu!" he moaned softly. "Pourquoi? Pourqoi?" His distressed cause him to revert back into his home tongue. The Frenchman crumpled to the floor and rocked back and forth, muttering in his own tongue, cursing and questioning. The Englishmen looked sheepish at this display of affection and wandered away, muttering nonsensically about getting changed and getting ready. Presently, the head was raised from the hands and Chauvelin's pale eyes, which matched his ears and tail perfectly, looked up at the few who had remained around him. Namely, Sir Percy, Marguerite, Armand, Lord Tony, Lord Hastings, and Sir Andrew.
"Sir Percy," he said quietly. "Do you perchance know where a looking glass may be in this castle? I wish to see..." his voice trailed off, but the unspoken words hovered in the air.
"Of course, m'dear sir!" Percy replied heartily to hide his pity. "Right this way!" As Chauvelin rose, Marguerite stepped forward to steady him, even though he had caused her so much pain. Her heart pitied him, for she had never seen the strong man this way before. He almost never showed emotion, hiding behind his contempt. No shaft ever seemed to wound him. Except this one.
The group moved up the stairs and into a room that had once been deserted, but was now filled with various disguises that the League had used. Across the room was a looking glass and the Frenchman moved towards it mechanically, leaving the four men and the woman behind him, watching from the door. His lips moved silently as he stared into the glass. He fingered his ears slowly. They protruded at his head from slight angles, but they weren't too far down... Looking around, he spied a hat lying on a chair. Grabbing it, he placed it on his head. If he pushed his ears slightly, he could get the hat over his head and they didn't bulge out at the sides too much. Yes, I might be able to hide these, he mused. But the tail...
It would have been a beautiful tail if it wasn't attached to HIS rear end. Bushy and large, the fur was soft and silky and a magnificent red. The tip was immaculately white. It proudly waved and had a self presence that Chauvelin sometimes never saw in humans. It seemed to mock him. And he hated it. How he hated it! How could he ever do his job now with a big tail saying, "Look at this man!" He could never do undercover work because it would give him away. He couldn't even be a political representative because he would be laughed out of ballrooms!
Chauvelin's eyes hardened and his already white hand became even whiter as he clenched the sword that he had grabbed from the floor as they had left the room. Turning, he pulled a table in front of the mirror and placed his tail on it so that he could see the end in the glass. He raised the sword...