laurajv: Don't give me any wild ideas! (Default)
Vincent raised his hand to block out the sun, hot in an orange sky, but still the light glancing from the walls of the stone city hurt his eyes. He'd been a creature of moonlight and candlelight since birth.

"You have never been to the Goblin City," said a voice close behind him, and he turned; a tall, slim man stood on the hill with him, not even a foot away. He could not hear the man's heartbeat, and he did not smell human; he smelled of lightning and earth and a little of owl. There was no human scent on him at all, not even underneath the surface.

The man smiled, a flash of uneven teeth, longer than human, with eyeteeth drawn almost to the vicious points of Vincent's own. "I have waited long to show it to you," the man said. His silver hair blew back from his face, though there was no wind on the hill.

"Who are you?" Vincent asked.

The man ran a gloved finger down his own cheek. "Oh," he said, "someone rather less human than you are."

Vincent flicked his eyes up and down, looking the man over, and huffed out a skeptical breath. The man laughed, and a sudden flicker of the sun -- a stutter of darkness in a cloudless sky -- made his face seem to shift, as if some demon looked out from his skin. Vincent drew back, startled; the sun settled again in the sky, and the man looking at him was just a man: tall, gloved, shoulders broad beneath leather armoring, cloak drifting about his body like night.

"Yes," the man said, "we've a touch in common, haven't we?" He held out his hand. "Come with me, and be my heir. Or solve the Labyrinth, and I shall tell you whatever truths you seek, at the end of it."

Vincent looked out over the mazed city; he had solved greater labyrinths than this, alone, in the dark. "I cannot leave my world," he said. I cannot leave Catherine, even though she is lost. "And not all truths are knowable."

"Wise man," the man said. "I shall tell you two truths, then, when you find my Castle: the names of your parents, and the location of the woman you love."

Vincent thought of everything he knew of magic, every bargain that could and could not be struck with Fair Folk. "And if I do not solve your labyrinth? What price do I pay, then?"

The man tossed a glass ball lightly into the air, where it hovered, spinning. "If I cannot tell you where she is," he said, "she will die. There is no changing that part of time: you must learn of her location from me, or not at all. Is that price not terrible enough?"
laurajv: Uhura says "Don't make me turn this ship around" (don't make me turn this ship around)
I'm pretty sure Catherine and Vincent Go To Anthrocon would be funnier, but I can't shake the feeling that I ought to write The One Where Vincent Is The Son Of King Jareth or The One Where Richard Mayhew and The Marquis Hunt The Beast of New York.
laurajv: Don't give me any wild ideas! (Default)
Beauty & the Beast, the television show, which I loved passionately as a pre-teen/teenager, had some serious logic problems. Serious enough that a pre-teen passionately in love with the show noticed them, people.

1. Vincent was all terrified of scratching up Catherine in some kind of lustful haze. Fingernail clippers, dude. Look into it.

2. Vincent is basically a tall hairy guy with fangs, a cleft lip, and claws. Fingernail clippers and a razor can take care of two of those problems, and then you've got a kind of homely guy who mumbles a lot and never opens his mouth too wide. Sure, rude people are going to stare at the cleft lip, but you can, in fact, clean up and take your lady out to dinner if you want to, homes.

One of these days I'm going to up and write the story for #2. After I build my fangirl-proof bunker to hide in afterwards, because that fandom is even crazier than Due South.

January 2017

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