When you awaken this time, not entirely sure what had broken your slumber. You are in an unfamiliar room and the sky outside is dark. There is the faintest orange glow in the room and as you look around, you realize this was still Alastor's room. You were on his bed. You couldn't remember getting into his bed and wondered if Alastor had perhaps carried you over. You look around, your vision still blurred from the sleep in your eyes, Alastor is nowhere to be seen. It felt strange being in his room without him. Maybe best to return to your own til the morning but as you opened the door, soft music echoed through the halls.
Someone was playing a piano, exceptionally well you noted. You did not recognize the tune but you had remembered seeing a grand piano in one of the reception rooms downstairs when you'd been exploring the hotel after your first night. You make your way downstairs. Following the sweet melodies like a sailor to a siren's song, until you find yourself outside the room that the song was playing from. The door was slightly cracked open. You steadily pushed the door open more, hoping not to disturb the person playing.
The piano faced out the window so his back was to you but to no surprise, it was Alastor's silhouette you saw. Not only had he not been in his room but you could not see Angel or Husk playing on the piano. Although you imagine that if Angel put his mind to it, the tunes he would be able to play with all six of his arms, would be something quite incredible.
You stood in the doorway for at least a solid minute, not saying a word but just enjoying the music, admiring how Alastor's fingers danced across the keys so effortlessly. It was certainly something to behold. "mon chéri, how long do you intend to just stand there?" As he said this, he did not turn to face you but instead began a new tune. "I was just admiring you." Not thinking about what you had just said or how it could be taken. "Just admiring me?" He chuckles. "Admiring how you play, that is." You splutter out now feeling rather stupid.
"Come. Take a seat. You can admire me, or my music, someplace more comfortable." He said and you quickly slid into the room, making yourself comfortable on the sofa. Unlike the first song, you now recognize this tune. it was Clair de lune. You remembered this song when it first became popular. You must have only been around 4, maybe 5 at most at the time. He once again switches songs once again and you can't help but feel he was showing off with this one. La Campanella. Although you had never been able to play piano yourself, you had enjoyed listening to it and if there was one thing you knew about it, La Campanella was considered one of the hardest songs to play.
Whilst you were certain that he was playing this song just to impress you, it had worked. It was impressive to see how his hands jumped across the keys, you marveled at how he moved his fingers with grace and guile and as he finished you couldn't help but let slip "I see you're good with your hands". You had not intended it to come across the way it did but you heard the low chuckle that emanated from him. "That's not the first time I've been told that". You could not see his face but you felt sure he would have a smug expression plastered across his stupid smiling face.
"I didn't mean it to sou..." You stop mid-sentence as you hear the opening notes of his next song. That tune was so familiar. "This may be a home comfort to you."
"Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai" He sings out. You couldn't help but join in, only not singing in french as he had.
"Under the oak's leaves, I lay and dried.
On the highest bough, a nightingale sang."
You both proceed to take it in terms of singing verses, he in French and you in English but the song was the same.
"Chante, rossignol, chante, toi qui as le cœur gai.
Tu as le cœur à rire… moi je l'ai à pleurer."
"I lost my love without deserving it,
Because of a bouquet of roses, I refused him..."
"Je voudrais que la rose fût encore au rosier,
Et que mon doux ami fût encore à m'aimer."
À la claire fontaine. Such a sorrowful song you thought but yet for you it evoked a sense of joy. You had remembered your mother singing it to you. Yet more so you could see her face, her chestnut eyes, her auburn locks, her smile. As you reminisce on the few memories of your mother. You do not notice that Alastor is no longer playing. You had flashes of picking moonglow pears with her, baking them into goods for the cafe. You had remembered the cafe. You would join your mother there 3 days a week when you turned 9, taking orders to begin with. Until crackles of electricity send those memories scattering once again.
You place your head in your hands and let out a substantial sigh. "Are you okay, mon chéri?" Alastor asks, you thought you could hear genuine concern in his voice. "You look up at him and force a smile but you can feel it cracking as your eyes well up. "I should go to bed" You try to excuse yourself but as you depart towards the door, Alastor grabs your wrist. He pulled you into a warm embrace.
No jokes, no laughter, just comfort. He rests one hand on your mid back, the other just at the nape of your neck, pushing your face into him. His chin lightly rested on your scalp. "Je ressens ta douleur et ça me fait mal. Comme j'aimerais pouvoir te le prendre." You had no idea what he had said to you but it sounded comforting but maybe that was just the tone in which he had said it.
You both stood, neither of you breaking from the embrace. Alastor had muttered a few other words in French, few of which you had caught or fully heard, let alone been able to understand. One however stood out. "Je ne peux pas te soigner mais tu es en sécurité avec moi. Laisse tout sortir." He spoke slowly, almost lulling and for the first time, you noticed he did not have the usual static that overlayed his voice. Maybe that is why it stood out.
In the end, it was Alastor who broke away first, but he quickly led you back to the sofa which only minutes ago you had lept off. You sit down beside him, making sure to leave a respectful gap between the two of you. You had noticed that whilst he had no issues invading your personal space, he on the other hand did not seem to like being touched.
However, he pulled you back into the embrace. You relaxed into him, his arm resting over your shoulder. You rested your face on his chest. You were shocked at how fast his heart was beating at that moment. His demeanor was a calm facade, one he had mastered. But why, you wondered. You couldn't imagine what would have his heart, of all people's, beating so fast. All you knew at this moment in time, is how warm he was and despite his angular features, he was surprisingly comfortable to rest upon.
You snuggled into him more, now pulling your legs up onto the sofa and tucking your feet under you. Your left arm moves over his chest and you place your fingers on his right shoulder. You were waiting for him to move or if nothing else, move your hand back. He however did not. Instead, he took your hand in his, wrapping his fingers around yours. Your eyes widen at the gesture. You had not noticed that he didn't have his gloves on when he was playing, the talon-like claws would probably make it hard to move so swiftly across the keys.
However, it was hard to ignore the several deep scars across his fingers, his hand, and around his wrist going up as far as you can see. Scars so prominent that you could only wonder how deep those lacerations must have been. You found your eyes moving up his body, he was always covered from head to toe. As your eyes move further up, now staring at his neck, he even wore a red turtleneck that reached right under his chin. Your brow furrows as you stare, wondering how much else was covered.
You felt him squeeze your hand, your eyes now finally reaching his face. His grin, although there, somehow felt genuine. He had been watching you this entire time. You squeezed his hand back in return but as you did a solid image flashed across your vision. It is not from your perspective but instead that of someone eating at the other side of a table. You appear to be in a cafe, music fills the air. You see the distant look on your face. You seem to be blank. Emotionless, You might even describe your eyes as dead. You see your mouth moving but can't make out any words. The hand of the person whose eyes you were looking through, reaches across the table. You had placed your hand in what appeared to be a masculine hand. You see yourself speaking again, you try and focus on your lips, trying to read them but you find yourself being jolted from the scene that had been playing out. Alastor had almost shoved you off him as he abruptly stood up from the sofa.
"What's wrong?" You ask but only to be ignored. Alastor's crimson eyes flickering all over you. Even his smile was drooping in the corners. You stand up, and glide towards him, reaching out for his cheek, only wishing to comfort him. "Speak to me darling". As you speak you can't help but notice how he recoils away from you. Quickly turning on his heels and grabbing his gloves off the piano. When he turns back to face you, his usual smile is there. His apprehension seemed gone.
"Nothing mon chéri, nothing more than a chill in the air". You raise your brow at his response. Hell was anything but cold. He saunters back to you, now placing a hand on your cheek like you had just tried to do to him. "Shall we?" He didn't wait for your response as his hand slid down to your shoulder and led you back to the sofa, this time offering you his lap as a pillow. His fingers gently claw through your hair. Soft melodies emanate from the piano and as you crack one eye open. You see Alastor's shadow extending across the room from the sofa, a silhouette of him playing the keys. You closed your eyes once more.
...
Despite Alastor's cold manner that day, he was pleased to see she had still gone back on her vows not to bring him room service. He wasn't sure if she had remembered something or if she had been fed information by someone else. Husk, Alastor presumes. It didn't matter to him because she had still been trying to please him Bringing him his favourite. She'd risen to his challenge and then some.
He was also impressed at how flustered he had managed to get her with just a few simple double entendres. Oh, she had got so worked up, he could hear her heartbeat. It beat so rapidly he could have danced to its tune. This was wonderful news to him. He wouldn't have to exhaust himself as much, trying to flatter her, to make her swoon. She seemed so innocent and yet that innocence had crumbled so easily with mere words. Although that could be a double-edged sword. He had never had much of an appetite for those carnal desires. She had never expected those things of him in the past and he had no intention of presenting them as an option to her unless he desperately had to.
She'd eased around him once again and whilst he hadn't tried to push her 'too' hard today. It was reassuring that he could push her and have her so willingly come back under his thumb, not just willingly but eagerly. However, Husk had plied her full of alcohol. This had to be taken into account as it would certainly mess with her inhibitions and skew the results of his little experiment.
Alastor's gaze fell to the sleeping Belle. She had tried to ball herself up in the armchair but from that position, she would surely wake up with aches. He approached her, scooping her up with ease and as he did so, she seemed to instinctively wrap her arms around him as he cradled her near his chest. That had made it slightly more difficult to lay her on the bed. She had clung to him.
He couldn't help but feel that his mild cruelties to her today had somewhat quelled his desires for carnage. This is how he would proceed, one day treating her with coldness and disdain. Then a few days of tenderness when she inevitably tried to regain his favor. A reward for her loyalty. Slowly he had hoped he would never have to fear about breaking her, her only wants would be HIS wants. Alastor then proceeded to make his way downstairs and to the reception room that housed the piano.
Alastor had lost himself in the music, the hours of the night had dwindled on but soon enough Alastor found himself with an audience. He took the opportunity the show his skills, never wishing to be boring. As he had once said 'Boring is the worst offence a person could commit'. He had heard the soft patter of her feet on the floor and proceeded to flex his fingers. La Campanella, maybe playing his cards early but he knew he had an ace up his sleeve to rouse her. He could tell the alcohol still lingered in her system from how she spoke. Good, she was so much more malleable when she was like this. Much like up in his room, he wouldn't have to stretch himself as much to get a rise out of her. With a comment on how he worked his instrument of choice, she was doing the work for him.
Now was time for his ace, a sweet reminder for her. And just as he'd hoped she had joined him in a little duet. He had forgotten how beautiful her voice was but as she fell quiet as the song ended, he noticed that lost look in her eyes. He patiently waited for her to return to lucidity but as she did, she threw him a curveball. She was on the brink of tears. Had he awakened a ghost from her past? That had never been the intention but as she leapt off the sofa, he was about to lose his grasp on her.
Taking the only action he could think of at that moment. He took hold once again, pulling her into him. How familiar this felt and as he rested his bare hand on the skin at the back of her neck. He couldn't help but think how pleasant he felt. He found himself enjoying her body pressed into him. Normally he would savor a person's pain, drink their torment like a fine wine. But this somehow felt different to him. He felt her pain, the sorrow and hurt that coursed through her body as though it was his. Yet the tighter he held her in that moment, he felt those feelings of pain begin to numb.
On the sofa, her hand in his, this unfamiliar feeling was washing over him. Maybe because it had been so long since he needed to be 'This' Affectionate but yet somehow that didn't feel like a good enough explanation for the sensation. He had found himself wanting to pull her into him and something he had not felt in centuries now stirred inside him. He flinched and pulled away. What was this? He stared at his Belle in disbelief. He had known of demons with the ability of emotional manipulation through their mere touch. But she certainly had not garnered such powers, let alone honed them in enough to use on him. Yet her touch felt like it had taken something from him, her expression however said she was as dumbfounded as he was on what had just conspired. Maybe for now it was best to avoid touch until he could get a better understanding, he thought, slipping his gloves back on.
Translations: Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai ( I've loved you for so long, I will never forget you).
Chante, rossignol, chante, toi qui as le cœur gai. Tu as le cœur à rire… moi je l'ai à ple (Sing, nightingale, sing, you who has a joyous heart. Your heart is made for laughing... mine can only cry.)
Je voudrais que la rose fût encore au rosier, Et que mon doux ami fût encore à m'aimer. (I wish the rose were still on the bush, And my sweetheart loved me still.)
Je ressens ta douleur et ça me fait mal. Comme j'aimerais pouvoir te le prendre. (I feel your pain and it hurts me. How I wish I could take it from you.)
Je ne peux pas te soigner mais tu es en sécurité avec moi. Laisse tout sortir. (I can't heal you but you are safe with me. Let it all out.)