"There seems to be a rather unsubtle alteration to the prince's genetic code." Belle mentions, sorting through pages of observations, as she and Tommy mirror talk.
He sighs, scanning through his own notes. "So it's not a well made illusion?"
"Nope. At the moment the prince really is no longer human."
"Right." He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. "No matter how skilled I may be at Fire magic, I really don't understand biology, so I'm definitely going to need your help." He pauses for a moment, thinking. "Normally I'd just invite you as my guest, but with the present…problems at the castle, (and without you having magic) it might be difficult to convince people you actually need to stay and are not taking advantage of my hospitality to try to marry the prince or something equally as absurd." He stops, considering. "You're pretending to be a seamstress at the moment aren't you?"
"Not pretending Tom I am one."
"We both know you're really a scientist."
She rolls her eyes. "So, what? You recommend me as seamstress for the Prince's entourage."
"Why not?"
!
Belle arrives to the already earsplitting squeals of her sisters as they maul the messenger. She smiles at the poor boy and holds out a hand for the scroll he is clenching. "May I?" A calming hand on his arm as she unrolls the paper. Clearing her throat she straightens up next to the man. Her sisters immediately stop squabbling and the messenger suddenly feels quite inferior (even if the house is rather shabby, and she is dressed quite plainly).
"The prince," Belle reads, "invites Misses Penelope and Jasmine Grace to the castle as potential spell breakers. No more than two trunks per person and your carriage will leave in an hour." She pauses, looks up at her sisters who are still staring blankly at her, turns to the messenger and hands the scroll back. "Well, that was nice. Straight and to the point. I was expecting more extravagant wording, but I suppose it is unnecessary when the recipients will be too excited to notice the phrasing." The messenger is eyeing her warily, as though half expecting her to break into tears at the lack of invitation for herself, when she turns back to her sisters. "Well, go on then," She waves her hand in a shooing motion, "you only have 55 more minutes before you have to leave."
The stunned silence is broken as the two girls dissolve into high pitch giggles and screams as they race upstairs.
The messenger is still watching her warily as she smiles at him. "Would you like to come into the kitchen?" The look of worry on his face intensifies at the odd comment.
"Um…"
"We have wine." She offers nonchalantly, walking towards a set of wooden double doors to her right.
The man winces as another loud shriek reverberates through the hall.
"It's also the quietest room in the house." She grins as he practically runs through the door, before closing it behind them.
"Did you want any wine? Water? Something to eat?
"No, thank you." He offers her a chair, and joins her at the table. "Actually, I have a question, if you don't mind."
She eyes him knowingly. "I am not upset I was not chosen, I never turned in my application. Didn't really feel it was the best way to resolve the issue. Besides, I don't want to marry the prince. If he's arrogant enough to get himself into this situation, than he is not the man for me." She glances back at him. "Did I answer your question?"
"I…um, yes. One of them."
"Oh, what else do you want to know?" She leans back in her chair, and smiles kindly at him.
"If those are your sisters Jasmine and Penelope, that would make you Annabelle?"
"Yes." She sits up. Wary, and serious.
"As there will be plenty of ladies in need of fine clothes for the coming months, His Majesty, King Edward and Her Majesty, Queen Julia would like to request your attendance at the castle to work as a seamstress for the duration of the prince's illness." He sounds almost as though reading from a script. Belle considers grabbing his hand to see if there are any notes on the back. "You were recommended by Sir Tomas: Court Magician, Level 15 Fire Mage, and Sage of the Fire Temple, and um..." He blinks at his hand (yep, she decides, definitely reading) before glancing back up at her. She arches an eyebrow.
"Is that all?"
"I-yes." He sucks in a sharp breath. "Have you really met the Court Magician?"
"I made his ceremonial gowns."
"Ah, yes, of course." Awkward pause, "Shouldn't you be packing? Their majesties wish for you to come in the same carriage as your sisters."
"Oh! No, I'll be fine; I just need five minutes or so to pack. I should write my father some notes on the housekeeping for while I am away though."
He doesn't really believe her, but nods as she reaches for some parchment and begins writing.
!
"Annabelle?" The messenger calls, gently placing a hand over hers to halt her furious scribbling. She has already filled several sheets of paper with detailed directions for her father. The sheet she is presently writing is filled with strange symbols that remind him of math as well as some he has only ever seen in the court magician's notes. "Annabelle, we have to leave in about five minutes, you need to pack."
"Oh." She jerks up. "Right, of course." She sticks her thumb and index finger in her mouth and releases a sharp piercing whistle. There is a scuttling sound and a loud thump on the door before it bursts open. A large trunk painted a vibrant blue and walking on short stumps that vaguely resemble insect legs (the messenger squeezes his eyes shut and reopens them, but the trunk is still there) runs to Belle and stops, looking very much like a dog sitting at it's master's feet. Belle kneels down and pats it on what the messenger can only assume to be the head. "Can you get everything packed Casey?" The trunk gives an affirmative squeak. "Good boy. Let's see if you can break your record time." The trunk squeaks again and runs out the door.
She stands back up and makes to follow the case out of the room, but the messenger's hand snaps out and grabs her arm. "W-W-What w-was th-that?"
"Casey? A bit of an accident really. A friend of mine is a magician and Casey is, well, the product of an experiment." The man's grip is still strong and he is still pale, so she continues. "Don't worry, Casey is just a suitcase. A bit more, uh, personable than most bags, but we were only seven when we designed him. The original intention was a suitcase that could pack itself, which we did achieve. We just didn't account for the whole…uh, alive thing." She shrugs. "When we realized it was sentient we named it The Suitcase, and Casey has been with me ever since. He's closer to a dog than anything else." She feels his grip slacken as she continues talking. "For people who invented a living suitcase, we were rather uncreative in the naming." Finally she can pull her arm away, and she resumes her exodus. "I should check on my sisters and make sure they are ready. Perhaps, you could prepare the carriage? If we don't leave immediately, Jasmine and Penelope will start remembering other things they need and we will never get out of here on time."