Quite a few people have asked about the primal mind that bases the narration for the end of the first chapter. That is meant to be a little confusing- he hasn't heard people talk in a long time, and half of his thoughts are instincts. Comments such as five-and-two are just a different way of counting things, as numbers are a little tricky when thinking in animal concepts. Hopefully, he will be less bewildering as the story progresses.
Chapter One: What a Pickup Line You Have
Raven couldn't get rid of her father quickly enough. Trigon had reconsidered leaving her alone, but Raven quickly rid him of that qualm. She used her usual method. She chattered until his eyes looked slightly glazed, and then slowly worked the punishment for her insolence into his head. He had to leave her at the castle for two weeks of reprieve, or she would suffer trauma from being raised with her mother away. By the time he left, he was already considering finding the town midwife for a headache remedy. The poor man had no idea that Arella was waiting at home for him with a mind-boggling story about other dimensions and someone called Azar, and questions about when he would finally marry her and where their daughter was.
Out of respect for the poor man, his trials in remembering that a wife (they were married two days later in a very nice ceremony Arella arranged) was just as bad as a daughter at hassling a once-powerful demon will not be recorded. Most of them are railings against Lynch, full of political innuendo- and spoken in a language which no one could find an interpreter for. Until Trigon is again important to the story, just remember that Arella is putting him squarely on the path of goodness, and that Trigon has invented several fascinating curses that sadly will not translate from his original tongue. The only bit anyone understood had something to do with a goat, a cantaloupe, and a poodle. After translating that much, all attempts were ceased. No one wanted to know.
Raven brought her bags to the door. Just to be polite, she reached for the ornately ridiculous door-knocker. Any metal work large enough to portray two griffons fighting while airborne in a rainstorm should not be part of a supposedly moving structure. Feeling its weight, Raven guessed that the decorator had not liked callers. She cheated and used a little black magic to pound on the door. There- anyone present would certainly hear that racket. She waited a few moments, just to be polite. She didn't expect anyone to open the door.
Raven looked up until her head nearly sank into the blue hood on her traveling cloak. Her first thought was that she wasn't wearing a red hood, visiting her grandmother, or carrying a basket of baked goods. Her next thought was that she'd probably eat the baked goods en route to grandmother's house. After that, she reasoned that she and the very large someone were still staring at each other. He was very large, very green, and very hairy. Maybe he just had a bad experience with clothing dye and a fear with haircuts. She gave his face a careful look. No, he wasn't quite human. She was about to say the first thing that came to mind when he roared at her.
Raven blinked. Well, that certainly had been interesting. She couldn't recall getting that reaction, especially before she said a word or several. But, if he wanted to play that game- she reached out and stopped the door from slamming. "Excuse me. My name is Raven. I've come to stay in this castle for a short while."
He stepped back from the door the instant her magic touched it, giving her a wary look. Great. Big, green, and hirsute doesn't like magic. She moved to pick up her bags. That was her first mistake. She avoided a second by throwing up a shield the instant she saw something fly. She looked out of her round black protections to see the fragments of a vase fly everywhere. That was it.
"Excuse me, mister, but that was rude," she said, shooing fragments of glass from her valise. He might have the home-field advantage, but she wasn't going to go home now. "That was about the worst thing to do, if you wanted to get rid of me," she said, letting her eyes gain the white glow that meant she was going to try something tricky. That didn't faze him. Instead, he charged.
Raven held up a hand. She would not stand for any outbursts from beasts. She held him. When the black bands of magic touched him, he stopped fighting. Levitating herself was tiresome, and she wanted to see his eyes. She did the next best thing. She flipped him upside down with a twist. She flipped her head around, twisting her neck into an odd angle. He looked- sentient. That was something. "My name is Raven," she said quietly, guessing that yelling would do neither of them any good. "Raven," she repeated clearly. "I will not harm you. If you do not want me to stay here, I will not." Looking into the confused green eyes, she couldn't stay angry. She released him carefully, making sure he had two legs firmly on the ground. He wasn't going to attack her.
Raven kept that as a quiet mantra when a very large hand reached towards her. Any one of his five claws would be enough to skewer her- and that was just one hand. She watched his eyes, hoping that he wasn't tricking her. She read his body language, remembering all the small, non-threatening animals. He was leaning back, and only one of his hands was near her. Hoping she was making the right choice, she stepped closer and took a good look at his hand.
It was a hand, no matter how green. The back was covered in short fur that looked so soft that Raven had reached out to make contact without thought. He didn't move. Taking a deep breath, she ran her hand lightly down his, feeling where the back of his hand gave way to long fingers and the claws. She took the hand in both of hers, moving like she did with a skittish horse- slow touches, always gentle, and let him see what you're doing. The underside of his hand was a rough palm that looked like the pictures she had seen of the large monkeys in Africa that some called apes. Finally, she looked at his claws. The ends curved in slightly to form a point, and she knew just from looking that the tips were very sharp.
There. He had a hand. She looked up his arm, which had a much thicker type of fur in the same shades of green. He had a ruff of coarser hair that looked almost like a mane, and cat-like feet. Well, she certainly had never heard of anyone like him- someone who could have that look in their eyes was not 'anything.' She released his hands to pick up her bags. "Would you mind if I came in?" she asked.
He knew these words. The female had done something with predator-tricks- but she had not hurt him. She had made the vase miss. He did not feel that he should throw things at the young female, even in a time such as winter when any of her cubs would be on their own, but she had been a threatening presence. She had picked him up without any difficulty- but she had only wished to look at him. She had looked him in the eyes, but had not tried to initiate a stare-down. Even if she had, he would not have been able to tell if she looked away, while her eyes were glowing.
He had reached out on some prey-that-fights instinct, but had not expected her to touch him. She moved carefully, not with the brash quickness of someone violent. By the time she had finished looking at his hand, he knew that he wouldn't chase her away. He remembered some of those words- the 'came in' was the important part, the rest niceties. He stepped aside for her, letting her come inside. She curved her lips- a smile. He did not return the gesture. He had a predator's teeth for tearing, not flashing white curves to be shown when pleased.
Raven started looking around the house. After a few minutes, he stopped following her. She was almost lonely, going through twisting hallways and desolate rooms, but the way he stared at her was unnerving. She found a few doorways blocked completely by debris, but enough demolished rooms were open for her to get the idea. She looked very closely at what had been a table. Five deep scratches ran across the table, and she knew who had caused the damage. She traced the marks with a few glances at the grain in the wood. Her father dabbled in being a merchant, to explain his cash flow, and she recognized good wood when she saw it. He was strong, then.
She chose her room by default. The servants' quarters had a narrow entryway that he had not been able to fit through, and the room was undisturbed. Choice made, she set her bags on a spare bed. The simple wardrobe was empty. Raven took out the two dresses that shouldn't get wrinkled, her good dresses. She would rather shred the gray dress, but her favorite wasn't always socially acceptable. Black was the color of mourning, traditionally, but Raven had always been complimented on that dress. She had thought to bring flint and steel, at least, and remembered to light an oil lamp for later. Stumbling about unfamiliar rooms in the dark was never pleasant. Once she was sure that her lamps had enough oil to stay lit for a while, she headed out to the orchards she had seen before entering the house.
She had never seen such a crowding of trees. Pear and apple trees were crowded with blueberry bushes, and covered in raspberry and blackberry brambles. It was the season for apples. She breathed in the scent of the orchard. She loved apples in autumn- her opinion might change after her two week break from reality, but the smell was perfect. Standing in the breeze, she decided that leaving her cloak on her bed had not been the wisest choice.
She made her way back to her room, passing by a great hall. She paused, looking inside. There was a fire in the hearth, small flames over heaps of coals. The castle's occupant had fed it, she could tell. Maybe she could work on it tomorrow, to get more heat from the brazier- but only when she knew the owner of the house a little better. He had to be the ghost so many people spoke of, but she didn't think that he had attacked people. The beast she had met was gentle, but she could still remember the stories of attacks and blood.
Raven slept uneasily. Trusting him and convincing herself that it was safe to sleep were two different matters. She knew that he could be gentle. Her subconscious mind knew that he had very large and very sharp claws. That left for a restless night, and a return to her usual grouchy disposition. When she glared at the sunlight streaming through threadbare curtains, Raven made an important realization. Even in the complete absence of people, she still was not a morning person. Grumbling to herself, she shuffled into the small attached kitchen. She lit the fire in the stove, waited for the heat to work, and then put a kettle on. While waiting for the whistle, she grumbled and occupied herself by slamming books about while deciding what to read. When the water was finally heated, she prepared a cup of tea.
After a cup of tea, she felt ready to face the world at large. She didn't bother remembering that the "world at large" consisted of an orchard, a fireplace, a few dozen rooms filled with wrecked furniture- and a beast. She couldn't think of what she could call him, but that label fit best. Raven wasn't fond of labels, but she couldn't think in terms of the "large green hairy animal-like creature with something that makes me not want to call him a beast." That would be ridiculous- she'd have to definitely start doing that around her father when he irritated her. The quickest way to get him to stop bothering her was to harass him until he caved and went into a brief period of catatonic disbelief that his daughter could be so frustrating. At that point, she happily reminded him that she was karma for the many souls whose lives he made- erm, heck. The less polite substitution for the euphemism was a sensitive word in Trigon's home, as it brought back memories of the days before the mutiny.
She went out to the orchard, cup of tea in hand. It wouldn't matter if she dropped the cup- there were about four dozen more, all identical. She had a book, one of the large thick volumes that were not suited for females. Raven opened the book with a smile. The books guaranteed to soil her delicate mind were always the most entertaining. Absorbed in a story, she stayed out in the orchard all day. Only when the sun drew near the horizon did she realize something odd. She hadn't seen anyone else today, and was almost annoyed to find how irritating that was.
The only trace she found of him was a new addition to the fire. She watched flames lick over a portion of an easy chair that deserved to burn. Fire was interesting, but she wanted to do something. Raven stopped, considering the circumstances. She was alone, just like she had wanted. She quickly went to her room to sleep before she could realize exactly what that meant. If she had any dreams, she forgot them.
The coals she had kept hot worked much more quickly to start a fire. Raven only had time to read through half a chapter of the book before her tea was ready. Carrying her tea and balancing the open book in her other hand, she wandered into the great hall to see if anything else was on the fire. If the rest of the chartreuse armchair wasn't burning, it should be. She glanced up, and saw a very large shape of green. She craned her neck again to find his face, after nearly dropping her tea. She was sure he couldn't help it, but his height would make her get a crick in her neck sooner or later.
He had frozen when Raven entered, and she almost backed away seeing the blood on his claws- but she could recognize partridge feathers when she saw them. "Everyone needs to eat," she said, refusing to be ruffled. She had seen worse table manners. Still, she read through the rest of her book as she drank the tea. Blood wasn't exactly the most pleasant of sights, not that she had any morning appetite the view would put off. When the sounds of crunching stopped, she glanced at the page she was on before closing the book and setting the empty teacup on top of it. He wouldn't understand a word, probably, but she decided a little conversation could be one-sided.
He watched her. Her word-sounds were quick, and few words made sense. She was looking at him, and using her careful-words. That meant that she would like him to understand what they meant. He hunched over as much as he could, to try looking her in the eye. She didn't look away or make the angry-dominant face. Instead, she said it again after other sounds.
"I can't just keep calling you the big green guy. I don't know exactly what you are, but you're too aware to just be some sort of Sasquatch." His presence explained the large tracks occasionally found near Forston, and she almost smiled. Cyborg and Robin both owed Starfire some money. Raven hadn't been silly enough to be involved in the bet about who had made the tracks. "Do you have a name?" She tried a final time after minutes of attempts. "Name? I am Raven."
"Beast." He watched as her eyes made the excited look again. She was happy to hear him make one of the words, but she quickly looked at him again.
"Your throat isn't made for words, but you've learned speech." Raven wouldn't ask him to speak, when his throat sounded so sore. He nodded again. The motion was already less jerking. Someone had practiced, she noticed. "I don't know what I can keep saying that you would know or care about, Beast, but you seem to like listening." She cupped a hand behind her ear and nodded. "You like hearing me talk."
He watched her for the next half hour, occasionally imitating her simpler motions. She sounded happy while showing him how hand-moves could be the same as word-sounds. He started following her motions. When he made one of his own, she hugged his arm. He almost pulled away, at the sudden motion, but she was gentle. He tried again, gesturing like he held one of the scribble-on-papers.
"A book?" Well, it couldn't hurt, and she would run out of things to say eventually. Even the most opinionated of people cannot keep a monologue running forever. Raven read from the middle, guessing that he wouldn't mind. She almost felt bad, reading books that no person of quality would own, but social niceties didn't quite matter in this situation. Just to be sure, she should read aloud from the etiquette book. It was actually funny, if read with a properly irreverent state of mind. She read to a rapt audience until the words blurred.
Raven woke in front of the fire. She sat up slowly, remembering. She had been put on a- fainting couch. She glared at the offending piece of furniture. She considered giving Beast a nice monologue of opinions- but then she spied the horrid green chair burning. How had he known? He wasn't much of a talker, but any girl could use a listener. She stood, giving the fainting couch a final disapproving look. Well- she would just have to explain a few things, after making sure Beast could understand what she was saying. Until then, she could start him in his reformation to an acceptable housemate by persuading him to destroy the furniture. Tea and book left at the side of the room, she left to go find Beast with only two regrets. When she went home, nobody would believe her- unless she brought a friend or two back for a visit. Beast might not be much of a talker- but he had some way of getting a girl's attention. Her second was a more personal matter. After roaring as a reaction, any other pickup line would be too much of a cliché.