Aug. 7th, 2012

provincialbelle: (yearn: by ?)
Belle could feel the divot in her bed that she hadn't felt in years. It creaked, how it creaked! She remembered waking up on this bed every day for sixteen years thinking that she ought to ask her Papa to fix it for her because if he could invent such wondrous things as he did, then he could surely invent a solution. She shifted, right into Jacob's warmth.

Awareness, however, came quickly after and something occurred to her -- these two things couldn't possibly happen at the same time. Jacob could be with her, but the bed couldn't be. Or she could be in this bed, but then Jacob wouldn't be here. That meant two frightening things could be coming to pass: first, that horrible bed could be on the island with them. Second, she was home and there was some stranger in bed with her (terrifyingly, for a moment, she imagined with fright that it might be Gaston).

That thought drew her sharply awake, eyes flying open. She sighed with great relief when she traced Jacob's form with her eyes, but that relief quickly turned to shock as she examined the room around her. Wooden walls, Papa's inventions littering her room, rugs on the ground and her books in haphazard piles all around, in her own chaotic order.

"Oh my goodness," Belle gasped softly, drawing off the covers rapidly and shuffling into a pair of slippers and her housecoat as she flung open the bedroom door to make sure her eyes weren't deceiving her.

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