divinetree | "Crazy" Beauty and the "Hunter" Beast

"Crazy" Beauty and the "Hunter" Beast

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a cruel Prince lived in a shining castle surrounded by rich hunting lands.
Although he had everything his heart desired, the Prince was paranoid, selfish, and cruel.

But then, one winter's night, an old beggar-woman came to the castle, and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold.

None know for sure what happened that night. Some say the Prince turned her away for her appearance, and others claim he attempted to harm her... the beggar-woman melted away her disguise to reveal a beautiful Enchantress.

As punishment for his loveless heart and vicious cruelty, the Enchantress transformed him into a hideous Beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his 30th year. If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return, by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.

As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a Beast?

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"Yes, well, unfortunately our carrier pigeons were turned into the majority of our drinkwear. Damned things always had such a FUSS about no longer being able to fly, only a few even remain by now," Alastor rolled his eyes, shrugging - if Lucifer inspected the cart again, he would see the small pitcher to pour cream was painted like a bird, the 'lip' of the pitcher where a beak would be.

The chair seemed still, but perhaps it could move as well... the matching one nearby seemed to squat its legs as Alastor sat in it, crossing his own gargantuan cervine legs over the other as he relaxed into the chair.

"The sorceress thought herself very funny to curse the whole of the castle and its lands. Staff and animals to furniture, and even some furniture gaining unexpected life all on its own! Sloppy, if you ask me."

Yeap, he suuure was pouring cream from a poor bird. He had a little trouble swallowing the rest of his tea, then. He did set the tea cup much, much more gently this time than before.

Lucifer blinked, then crinkled his brow. "But... what for? To what end does some magic woman decide that everyone here needs to be turned to objects? I mean, the carrier pigeons???"

"Yes, well. She'd come to test someone whom she had assumed was some helpless orphaned Prince. She likely came around assuming she would fool me into underestimating her based on appearance, arriving as some haggard old woman," Alastor shrugged.

"But I am not a fool, nor was I when I was a child, no matter what she thought she knew of me based on reputation alone."

He only continued to stare in confusion. "Did you... pick a fight with a magic-wielding fae creature as a child?"

He just needed to be sure he had that right.

"She came to my doorstep! Hah."

"So she..." He walked his fingers onto his open hand. "Strolled up to the castle to mess with you, got what she wanted, and..."

He gestured. "All this happened?"

"If you must know, I accused her of being the reason my mother died. She never ended up denying it, even to the bitter end!"

"...'Bitter end'??" He was leaning forward in his chair.

"Of course! The fae consider themselves so wily, but even a CHILD can outsmart them. Twisted her into a game, claimed her magic, and killed her!"

Alastor cackled, proudly, sighing as if reminiscing.

"A bit of iron from a horseshoe nail driven right through the temple did the trick perfectly. Don't let the damn things beguile you, either, you seem far too interesting and they adore such things."

Mouth slightly agape, he was just short of spellbound. Talk of killing the sorceress didn't seem to phase him.

But he broke the spell with the quick shake of his head, and swept his fingers through his hair as he was just... processing.

"I've read practically every book I could get my hands on, including mythology. Boy... Charlie would flip if she ever heard that this sort of thing's been real this whole time."

Lucifer creased a brow as he recalled something else. "But if it's a curse on the land, that... that explains why I've never heard of a Prince Alastor, or knew of a castle in the region."

He rubbed his chin. "...And why the routes all switched up, after I'd taken those roads for years and know them like the back of my hands..."

"Hmm, now that is problematic... my lands don't beckon people in, typically, an old trail is found and they follow out of curiosity or out of a desire to find some silly old fable they can't seem to find other people recalling."

There was a reason he asked if Lucifer came to gawk or hunt 'the beast', after all.

"These days those sorts all come in quite fat and healthy! The world must be doing well for itself beyond the borders."

Beckoned... was he beckoned somehow? Particular trails looked less dangerous and he opted for those rather than risking bumping into a pack of hungry wolves.

"They must be from the towns and cities to the east, then. Not long ago, the people there managed to forge a trade deal with the gemstone miners and merchants from the far north. They get pretty things that sparkle and shine to set into fine jewelry to sell across the sea, and the northerners get all the grain, produce and toasty-warm wool they could ever need to survive up there to keep diggin'. Ton of folks moved east when the going was good, but not everybody. Now it's just too expensive to find a foothold, but I was hoping something I'd made would be the ticket to some comfortable living for me and my daughter. We live modestly, certainly, but the winters do get rather harsh."

"Lucky indeed that you now have a good arrangement, able to provide meals instead of becoming one! Hah hah."

Though that does have Alastor pondering - it'd been around a decade since his estate held any power, and it sounds as though the hunting woods being lost was compensated for by the boost to trade and mining for the eastward settlements... but those to the west and the south have to travel to trade at best, and while the castle was in a defensible position, it wasn't completely removed from the routes between them.

Alastor remembered distinctly being able to peer at the edge of his cursed territory, unable to will himself to step further and beyond the bounds, after all.

"Being bold enough to attempt to invent in such a circumstance - you are intriguing."

"You'd be the first to say that!" He laughed awkwardly.

"I'm still working on a compound to possibly sell up north to aid in the blasting for the mining operations. Sulfur, charcoal and saltpeter is greatly rising in price, and you need so much gunpowder to engage in such operations, so I wanted to try and make an alternative. Problem is, it's a little... volatile. I swear, you could give the stuff so much as a nasty look, and..."

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, that took a bit of a breather in exchange for a flying machine. ...And my neighbors wouldn't stop banging down my door complaining about the noises coming from the cellar."

The way Lucifer is 'intriguing' may also not be much of a compliment... but time will only tell.

"Well, well. That won't be a fuss here - I won't allow for complaints on my new favorite entertainment," Alastor smirked. "It gets so dreadfully quiet that a few explosions and some screaming ought to bring a bit more life to it."

"...Yoooouuuu... don't want me to test explosives here, haha! Trust me. I'd mess up all your pretty things! But the thought's appreciated."

He clapped his hands together.

"But! While there's still a little daylight left, I can show I'm good on my end of the bargain by showing what I've got so far...? It's all disassembled in the cart for easy transport with my tools, but I've got the schematics drawn up that I'd be happy to show off."

"Certainly! Let's have at it, then, let's see what your twisted little mind has come up with!"

Alastor stood, offering a claw for his guest to take. Polite, manners, of course - pay little heed to the way the castle is mostly alive, and feels almost as though it's watching in dreadful anticipation.

"You won't think it's twisted when I pull this off, damn it!"

He was up like a shot. He was almost like a kid with the way he sprinted straight for the door, grabbed the handle and skittered his shoes against the floor as he tried to wrench it open.

It took him a second. Then he was gone.

Give him maybe three minutes as he went to find where his cart went, but he would be dutiful in his return, sweat dotting his brow and clutching a rolled up sheet of paper. He skidded to a stop in the parlor, but needed to pause and bring his hands to his knees and catch his breath...

"Okay... okay..." DEEP BREATH, and he stood upright.

"Gentleman! Cursed objects! I present... my current life's work!" With a flourish, he unrolled the paper over the table and gave the edges a fond pat. Covered in small eraser marks and edits were schematics of four wings and the canard around a platform for the pilot to lie in.

"Presently, I'm capable of very short glides in fair weather for as long as it can be pulled. I have control of the three axis for turns, pitch and yaw to compensate during the pulling."

He slowly paced. "I've tried sliding off the roof of my cottage three times to see about maneuvering without a pulling force, but I have since been banned from doing that any further by my daughter. ...And a bruised and battered body that laid me low for weeks from the very sloppy impact with dear old Earth."

A small cough.

Oh, that is fun! Alastor's already laughing in dreadful amusement, all grins at the schematics. He poked at the parchment with a claw, right over the canards.

"What in the world are these? I've not seen a bird with wings on its head, what good are they here?"

He paused to look where he was pointing. "The...? Oh, that's for the pitch. I don't know if you've ever been sailing, but-"

He moved his hands in a particular way to demonstrate as he explained: "There's three axes of movement: The side-to-side roll, the up-and-down pitch, and the left-to-right yaw. In my glider, I needed something to keep the whole craft from catching the wind wrong and just-"

He smacked one palm against the other.

"I thought I'd study birds in flight, but it wasn't enough- they get to flap those wings to keep themselves balanced while giving thrust, which is something I just can't seem to replicate. Trust me, I tried. Almost broke my arms testing a prototype. But, perhaps in its forward movement, if I can have something that'll slice the air and slide over it, rather than catch it and topple the whole construct.

"Thus was born what I call 'canards'."

"So this can only take off by being flung from a height, then. And if the air is still any given day, it can't gain speed, can it? Psh!"

Whether there's merit in the wing structure actually maintaining flight or not - Alastor wasn't going to share a compliment that easily. But there was genuine effort and interest, some expertise...

Well, his mother had her own little pet portrait artist, so this wasn't very different.

"And would this device be any good lifting a passenger that's not so petite as you are?"

He made a small scowl at that word. But he made no remark. This was a guy who gave him a whole LOT of money.

"It's a process! If I can get something that can lift me and do it safely then it's a matter of adjusting the surrounding parameters to be able to handle more weight."

He pointed out a spot on the schematic. "As for the issues of creating thrust, I've considered attaching the glider prototype to Gershwin via a harness. It then becomes a soft of 'rideable' kite: He pulls, we lift off. Then I developed a means to quickly detach so he's not pulling forever or in case he veers or stops suddenly, and with the canard, I can direct the glider for a safer landing."

His fingers drummed over the surface. "Ideally, I'd like a way that doesn't need the horse. Not everyone exactly has one handy. I need something that can... pull or push, independently."

"Oh, I can't wait to see those attempts! Hahah!"

Will he build a giant crossbow? Use a cannon? Fuck, all of that would be hilarious. He wouldn't float too many of his thoughts and ideas until this inventor seemed to be running dry. Wouldn't want to rush along the fun - as far as Alastor was concerned, this curse was doomed to pass its 'cure' condition, so eternity will be SUCH a dreadful bore.

"Tomorrow, I want to see this assembled. I'll have my minions assemble a nice slope for you to fling yourself and your device from in our fields!"

"...It's not flinging! It's... taking off!"

He was still alive, wasn't he? This was sounding more and more like he was gearing up for a glorious crash and burn. Lucifer supposed being cursed made the man bored to pieces.

He wouldn't be the beast's clown.

"I'll show you the full thing tomorrow! Just you wait and see."

"Oh of course! We'll see how it takes off tomorrow then," Alastor laughed, lacking even a single drop of sincerity for his new favorite artist-jester. Though he wouldn't tolerate a jester anyway - he'd tear apart anyone bold enough to expressly disrespect him.

"Now what did you make this out of? Wood and canvas?"

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