Mar. 13th, 2010

provincialbelle: (an adventure: by raphaelite)
When the caretaker of the house had vanished, Belle had noticed that not everything went. Their bedroom emptied, but the room at the northernmost point of the house still held strange scraps, tools, and other assorted miscellany that caught her attentive eye. Belle liked to sneak up into that room in the mornings and pretend that she was back in her Papa's workshop, fingers trailing over sprigs and parts of things that would one day become something incredible and wonderful.

She always left the door open just in case she heard a noise and needed to hurry right back down and out of the hall, pretending that nothing was amiss. As it was, she'd yet to be caught and she didn't fancy the notion of starting, so as she grasped a wrench and a piece of sheet metal, she made sure she was quiet about her work, even though the unmistakable sound of metal moving filled up the room.

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