Who: Faust and Rose Red Where: Beast's castle When: Recently! What: Faust gets dropped at the castle and plans are hatched Warnings: Just two troublemakers being silly.
Faust awoke to find himself inside a frozen garden. Crystallized water cracked over vines and powdered the grass like sugar over a cake. Brown, curling branches reached down to him in sleep, brown leaves closed like tiny wrinkle fists and not even an ounce of joyous bloom could be found anywhere. Maybe the dead wouldn’t have bothered him so much if it wasn’t so damned damp. His long legs were splotched by water and mud, his jacket stained from back to front and his top hat was lost somewhere in the thorny weeds next to him. He gave everything a bewildered look like something that had grown in the garden quite spontaneously and staggered to his feet. This wasn’t the heaven he saw promised in the archangel’s eyes. But, this couldn’t be hell either. No brimstone burning. No skinned bodies littered around the garden. No skeletons trudging up staircases with boulders strapped to their backs in slavery without purpose. This couldn’t be anything but another layer of purgatory peeled back.
The tall, handsome and proper looking man found his feet slowly and looked up at the looming dark castle and then behind him at the walls keeping him inside. Surely there was a purpose to landing here, but he wondered if it would be any better than being lost in the woods with wild animals. He knew castles like that. Knew what kind of people tended to reside in them. But, any sort of evil they were capable of he could top by tenfold. He had already, on numerous occasions. “Hat.” He said out loud, as if he expected the thing to come tumbling towards him. Turning to the thick patch of vines it was caught in, Faust tried to get it out himself, fingers instantly pricked by the thickest thorns he had seen in ages. It became clear that he would likely bleed this garden red before he managed to get his hat, but being awoken in a place unexpected made a man tenaciously stupid.
Rose was alone in the castle. Well, she was mostly alone. The strange servants were there (invisible men and women, but she believed the objects they carried to be enchanted, rather than understanding they were merely carried by invisible hands), but the Beast was not present. He spent more time in the castle than she did, and it very seldom happened that she was there when he was not. It was part of their agreement, part of her captivity, that she be there daily. And so there she was, and it was quiet. The enchanted objects were not darting in fear of angering the great monster, and she had a few minutes to herself, which was such a strange blessing that it took her a moment to realize she could use it to go outside, beyond the walled section of the garden with its dead things in the earth.
She made quick work of finding a cloak in the large dresser that dominated her room, and she ran down the stairs in a blur of cream and rose, red hair loose and wild as she ran out the kitchen doors and scaled a tree to look beyond the ends of the walled garden, to finally get a good feel for how much space there was between her and wide open sky with no walls to hold her in. She might have climbed over the tall wall, but a voice behind her made her still and stop, and she turned to look at the bramble covered garden before scrambling down again. She was dirty now, dirt on her cheeks and her bare feet covered in mud, and she walked toward the voice, the dead branches bending toward her as she passed, as if they would follow her on her adventure.
She stopped when she saw the tall man, proper and whole. He was no Beast, and he wasn't Draco, and she dug her bare toes into the dirty and regarded him, a dirt covered urchin with a halo of copper. "Who are you?" she asked, and she glanced toward the hat and the vines as she asked. She took a step forward, and she shook her head, and the vines gave up their prize with a grand shake of annoyance that made her smile. "Thank you," she told the vines. She would make this wild garden bloom if it was the last thing she did. She took another fearless step forward. "I'm Rose. I'm the lady of this castle."
Faust rose an eyebrow at the obeying vines, shaking his wounded hand to unceremoniously make every tiny cut mend and each blooddrop absorb right back under his skin. A man so used to magic didn’t even think twice about that kind of thing when he did it. He took the hat from the vines and bowed slightly, hand over his heart in sincere gratitude. “Does everything reluctantly do as you say?” Faust said after her, turning to look at the small, pale, red flower before him. He offered a smile that was barely there at all.
But, he was getting ahead of himself. Faust put his dirty hat back on his head after inspecting it for spiders and with his hands on his hips looked up at the looming castle. Enchanted. He thought he could smell magic. “My name is Faust.” His hat started to slip off his head, so he adjusted it and directed his attention back down to her. “I haven’t an idea how I managed to wake up here in your garden. But, perhaps I could trouble you for some tea?” Faust motioned down to his dirty, wet pants and even shivered a little to pry at any kind of sympathies she might have. Women in castles were always difficult to read.
The skin that knit itself might be second nature to him, but it wasn't to her. Her magic had always been with things that grew, with breaking curses and sensing magic, but she had no truly useful magic, nothing as useful as what he just did. The Beast hated magic, and perhaps he had very good cause. Had magic not destroyed everything here? But the Beast was not there, and Rose was terribly bad at making the good and careful choice. Snow was the one who looked before she leapt, not Rose. "Only the things in the garden, but even they take some coaxing," she explained. She almost added that, sometimes, the Beast listened. But why muddy the waters now? There hadn't been a guest here since Draco, and that visit had been very short. No need to ruin things if the Beast wasn't at home.
Rose had a long history with trouble, and that almost smile that almost graced his lips worried her not in the slightest. "Faust. I don't know that name," she said, because the lady of castle would surely know the people in the area. "But I haven't been in the area long," she added, cheeky smile and a swirl of cloak as she turned, marking herself as anything but a princess. "Follow me. I'll get some water drawn for you too, so you can clean up while the tea is set out." Despite the fine clothing, she was more servant than lady, and she walked ahead of him and stopped at the door, turning to ensure the vines and brambles left him unbothered as he walked. "Oh," she added as an afterthought, "I'm Rose."
She disappeared into the kitchen, which was warm and clean, but devoid of any human life. She asked the pot bubbling on the stove to have some hot water added to the basin in the blue room, and she asked the kettle to set out tea in the small sitting room, which she'd mostly cleared of dust and cobwebs. That done, she left the candelabras to lead him to the blue room and back down again, and she went to clean herself up. Ladies, she knew, didn't go to tea with dirty feet. She had learned something from Snow, after all.
Faust held his hat behind his back as he wandered after her, eyes up and around to see everything about the castle that he could. In his world, there were no secrets, no looming mysteries and barely any surprises to speak of. A scientist couldn’t function that way. Especially not one that mistakenly took the easy path towards knowledge, fame, fortune and damnation. The wonder of being cast into a different world prickled at his ears. How long would it be before he demanded to know everything about this place as well?
It did strike him as odd to see a severe lack of hustle and bustle around the castle, especially through the kitchen. And, the way she smiled and moved was without the stilted grace of a girl who spent most of her life in waiting or kneeling in church. In the privacy of the blue room, he eyed the bucket of hot water and reached a single pale hand down to test the water. It was the perfect sort of warm, but began to boil over as his fingers inched below the surface like spider legs. In a second, the water stopped bubbling and Faust decided for once to use conventional means in order to accomplish a task. His memories of the sky and ground opening up in a fiery duel for his soul were still fresh and he thought maybe if this was one last test it would be best to play by some rules. For now.
He washed his hands, feet and shoes before dunking his jacket into the hot water to soak and placing his hat on a nearby table. Looking down at his muddy pants, he hummed a frustration at the water and then without even a gesture, made them look as good as new. “Twenty seconds without magic. You’ve outdone yourself, Faust.” He murmured to himself, smiling though. How much did he really change and how much was hidden away for a chance with Gretchen? Best not think about her, mate. The medium reminded him. Good point. In fact, it was probably best to let the past stay the past. Minus whatever abilities he was given despite it all.
Without his coat left him with just a silk vest over a long, white button up shirt that made his shoulders look a bit more puffy than he prefered. He tried not to linger very long without the lady of the castle to watch him, mostly because he knew investigating one room would lead to another before he was lost and without anything to eat or drink. Eventually, he made it back to the kitchen, circling it to find the kettle waiting for him in the sitting room. He took a seat, leaning his head back against the cushion and waited for her to enter. When she did he simply said, “You’re in purgatory, too.”
She had changed into a white dress with roses embroidered on the hem, and she had soft shoes on her feet. There was no hint of dirt or dust, and her hair was pulled back in a dusklight ribbon. Even with all the improvements, she still looked like a thing that belonged outdoors, too much of the fae in her to ever be a sedate lady in a castle. And yet, his comment surprised her, and her step slowed, then stopped as she regarded him. There were candles lit, since the pervasive darkness outside allowed no light to stream through the stained glass windows, and the light bounced and danced off the freckles that clustered on her nose. "I don't mind so much if there's company," she said, though she had no idea what purgatory actually was. She knew a polite lady would leave it at that, or allow him to continue and explain, but she wasn't that person. "What is it?" she asked instead, eagerly, moving forward and taking a seat opposite him, then waiting for the teapot to pour them each a cup of the sweet-smelling liquid. "Purgatory? Does it mean prison?" she asked, because that was what this place was, after all. Perhaps he was a prisoner too. Some new person the Beast had locked up here and, selfish little heart that she had, she was pleased at the possibility.
“It can.” He certainly saw it that way and that much was clear on his expression. His eyes moved to watch the teapot do its own job like a windup toy without any gears or clockwork to speak of. Now the complete lack of servants made sense. The moving vines, the pouring teapot. He wondered what else animated the hallways. “It’s a place where beauty and ugliness have intertwined.” Faust held his hands up and then slid his fingers together like stitching. “And, you can’t escape until you’ve proven yourself or something decides to pick you out.” He let his hands fall apart and then motioned around the room.
“This castle is beautiful, but empty and ancient. A young woman, lady of the castle or not, shouldn’t be hidden away here.” He picked up his cup of tea and blew over the surface of it. Faust paused, realizing that he was being assuming and a little bit rude. For even the fine silk vest over his chest couldn’t hide where he came from, either. “Who else resides here besides yourself and enchanted teapots?”
She liked his description of purgatory, at least the beginning of it. "That sounds like the forest. Not our dead one, but the real forest, the one that's green and lush and beautiful, but where dangers lurk." The dead thing outside was nothing like that, and the dark sky that loomed over all of them wouldn't let anything grow, even if there was something out there that wasn't dead. She watched the elegant movement of his long fingers. She'd never known anyone with hands like that. Her mother had been a witch, and she'd worked all her life. The merchant's fingers were worn from wares, and even Charming's hands had been calloused from his sword. "I'm afraid no one can pick me out. I've volunteered to be here," she explained.
She had her own teacup in her hand by the time he blew on his, and she didn't notice his rudeness. Her time at court had been as brief as Snow's marriage, and she'd spent all of her days wild in the wood until then. She wouldn't have known a prince from a pauper. She curled her legs beneath her, and she sipped her tea. "The Beast owns this place. He's cursed," she explained unnecessarily. "You might not be able to leave. I can't," she explained, and she glanced around the room to the floating candelabra and the teapot that waited to pour itself once more. "Neither can they." She looked back at him. "How did you do the magic outside? The one to fix your hand?"
“I see now.” Mention of a cursed beast suddenly gave this castle purpose. It must have been designed to be a prison for men like him. Though, why wasn’t he forced into solitude? He enjoyed the company of others, especially those who had curiosity, and so if someone was building him a hell it simply wasn’t punishing enough. Not that he’d ever admit to that. “I’ve been cursed, too.” He told her like it was a folktale, tilting his head to the side with a soft smile. “I wanted to know everything. To do anything. And, it came with a price.” He waved his free hand with a gentle roll of his wrist and a black steam began to rise from his fingers before fading into the musty air.
“I tried to give it up, but it sent me here instead.” He brought the teacup to his lips, pressing the smooth china against his skin gently before taking a sip. “This must be the place where cursed things are abandoned. Though, that doesn’t explain why you’re here.” It was a question if she wanted to take a stab at it.
His reasoning was odd and unexpected. It was nothing like Draco's boyish claims, and it was nothing like the Beast's simple arguments. It wasn't even like Snow's always boring and good parables. "You think you've been cursed and sent here?" she asked him, clarifying. She was no silly thing with her nose in the clouds. She knew curses, knew how they felt and where they lived. She knew he had magic, and she couldn't sense if there was a curse atop that magic, but she was very sure this castle was no prison for the cursed. "There are those who would say I should be cursed, that I should be flung to the far reaches of the black and land and left there for carrion. I'm a bad woman, the kind good wives and mothers warn about," she explained, and the smile that crossed her face just then told the truth of it, sin amid the freckles and blinding copper. "But it wasn't a curse that brought me here. It was a man," she said simply, a shrug of her shoulders as she finished her tea and set it aside.
“Isn’t interesting how bad people make better company?” He mirrored her smile and finished his tea before standing up. “Let us see if I can escape this castle. I assume your beast doesn’t like house guests?” Any creature called a beast would be naturally territorial, after all. And, while he was sure he could fight a beast just as well as a man, he wasn’t interested in getting on its bad side. Especially with a woman so honest and charming in its care. “Show me the weakest point in the wall and I’ll see if I can slip through. If not, we might have to come up with a purpose for my being here while we can.”
He smoothed his hand over his vest, making a large brown coat fall on his shoulders, though his hat hadn’t returned just yet. Faust had a feeling that even though he could conjure up a taste of hell into the castle, it wasn’t the sort of magic that would let him break through something so unknown. Faust could sense angels and demons prowling in his own world, but this one seemed strangely empty of divine and damned he was pitted against again and again. But, there was still magic. More than his own.
"Don't let my sister hear you say that," she cautioned. His opinion of bad people wouldn't be popular with Snow's pristine sense of morality. She watched him stand, surprised at the quickness of it. She was growing accustomed to the strange inhabitants here, and normal movement seemed a wonderful oddity. No slow movements of a magnificent Beast, and no jerky movements of enchanted candelabras.
She stood a moment later, and she shook her head. "There is no lock upon the doors, but they do not budge," she said, leading him to the front doors first, where the doors were heavy and stretched high into the ceiling. And, true to her word, they would not budge. She marveled at his coat a moment, and she resisted the call to recollect her cloak before going to the walled garden again. Instead, she led him the way they had come, past the brambles that grabbed. She tried to calm them as well she could, but they were thick and merciless and, true to her word, they did not listen with any regularity. In the end, she pointed to the tree she had climbed, which might allow for a steady leap to a part worn lower in the wall.
"But you won't want to brave what's beyond," she informed him, fully expecting him to want to see for himself. The darkness was all encompassing, and dead things lurked beyond the wall and rotted beneath the ground. There was black glass scattered, cursed and shiny, and she knew better than to even think of going near it. "The Beast says you can't touch the glass. It's cursed," she said, knowing he would see it if he climbed. Everything, for as far as the eye could see, was like this. There was no walking out from this place, even if he managed to get over.
“Perhaps I am a collector of curses.” He wondered just how many of them he could accrue before he toppled over dead or his eyes glowed and back sprouted wings. Faust looked up at the tree which honestly wasn’t that much taller than himself and then without much hesitation started to scale the thing awkwardly. One long leg goes here, no wait, it should wrap around this branch so his arms could grab at the trunk. Broken twigs rained to the ground as he finally got close enough to the wall for him to pull himself up onto it. Perching on the thick stone, he looked across the darkness in surprise. It wasn’t running with springs of fire and there was no wailing to be heard out there in the nothing, but that didn’t make him want to venture out there. Even if her warning did make it seem somewhat alluring.
Just to make sure, he reached his hand beyond the wall, arm creating a fluorescent bubble of purple before a single digit made it out into the sharp darkness. He retracted his arm, feeling more cold than he did when he woke up in the chilled garden and looked down at her. “I fear you are correct.” Faust struggled to climb back on the tree, missing a few branches on his descent down that caused him to make a less than graceful fall to the ground. Laughing as he recovered, his long legs and arms strewn everywhere like a stretched out doll, he tried to find something to help him to his feet. “Only a fool would brave that sort of darkness. There aren’t any noble knights at your disposal, are there? I’d settle for a moving suit of armor.”
"You're not a climber of trees," she called up to him, a smile in her voice. Snow was like that, all awkward limbs, and Rose wondered if certain people were just born to be elegant and sedate. "And of course I'm correct," she added with innate sureness in herself. "I had to pull that glass out of the Beast's paws once. It festered as long as it was in contact with anything living. It was terrible," she explained, though she didn't sound at all frightened of it, not like a lady should. But then he was falling, and she was laughing and reaching out to help him stand. It was so nice to have a person around, one that could talk back, that wasn't like the enchanted items that kept their perpetual silences.
"Nothing large moves," she said of the silently enchanted items, still caught in her belief that it was the items themselves that were enchanted. "No suits of armor, and the enchanted items only do what the Beast would approve of," she explained, and she looked up at the pitch black sky. "We should go inside, and we should get you settled. Can you pretend to be injured? Because the Beast has a terrible temper. The last person who came here had magic too, and it turned into a terrible fight that brought this darkness upon us all." She didn't want another instance like the one with Draco. He didn't have a flying broom, this man, Faust, and she wasn't sure he'd be able to evade the Beast, should it come to that. "We can say you're my brother, perhaps. That might keep you safe."
He took her hand and seemed happy to be back on his feet, as some tall things tended to be. “I can do my best to hide my magic, but as you can tell it comes second nature.” Faust picked at the twigs and branches tangled in his hair and clothes, brushing a off a couple stray ones that landed on her. Another thing that could be solved with a wave, but he really had to get used to doing things normally again. It made him seem a little like a wizard who had been shaken out of his lonely tower.
Faust turned his attention back up at the tree, hand on hip as he regarded it with false shock. “What a fall that was! I think I cut up arms and my leg has a pinch.” A look to her like she was supposed to agree with just how terrible his tumble to the ground was. “I only wanted to make sure you were safe in this castle, sister.” This time his voice seemed more genuine and his concerned brow was utterly convincing. “Please, forgive me for intruding, but I simply can not go out there. It’d be a shambling corpse in a matter of seconds.”
She laughed, and the sound carried over the dead woods and into the kitchen, where the enchanted broom and mop peered out into the walled garden. The laughter stopped a moment later, and she cried out in concern. She was no actress, but there was no one present to see, and did it really matter? Only the Beast needed to believe, and she would leave the talking to Faust, once the Beast arrived again.
She simply slid an unnecessary hand around Faust's waist, and she helped him into the kitchen, where she wrung her hands nervously. "My brother has fallen, and he can't possibly walk. Get the blue room ready for him," she informed the broom, though she had no true idea of what the servant structure was in the castle. "The Beast wouldn't want me upset," she insisted when they dithered. "You don't want to anger him." She could sound imperious when she wanted, even if a little-girl grin was hiding beneath all that bluster. The broom moved, as did the mop, and a chair was carried over for Faust to take a seat in.
She nearly clapped her hands when the chair began to move by itself, lifted by three pairs of invisible hands and then marched up the stairs. It all felt like a game, because Rose was silly and reckless that way. Snow would disapprove when she informed her that they had a new brother, but she didn't even care about that just then. Happily, she followed.
If it were possible for a broom to eye a man suspiciously, Faust was sure one was doing so the moment he followed Rose back inside. He wasn’t intimidated by any sort of bristly cleaning tool, but he knew tricking the beast was a gamble. If the servants could talk, he’d be ruined, but luckily all they could do was making threatening gestures towards him or try and clean him to death in the night. Still, this was a lot more favorable than whatever kind of darkness resided outside of the walls and Rose (while not a terribly convincing liar. which was strange for her gender) was good company. Purgatory. The trickster in his brain reminded him simply. Ah, yes. The girl might have been pleasant, but the Beast would be a challenge. And, unless he wanted to battle the monster or get thrown out of the castle, he’d have to keep his own temper and curiosity in check.
Still, he plopped down in the chair, dramatically pulling a handkerchief from his vest pocket and tapping his pale cheeks with it like a nobleman who fell off his horse. He let it carry him like a duke in a parade procession down main street, waving the cloth occasionally to an end table or vase that must have been as confused as the rest. He hadn’t played in quite a long time and this lightheartedness was doing him some good. Once they reached the blue room, he accepted the mop’s offer to be a temporary cane and hobbled over to the bed to recline. Stretching his long legs out and crossing his arms over his stomach after fluffing the pillows just so, he looked to her and gave her a smile. The brooms and mops started busying themselves to clean and he pat the side of the bed next to his knees.
“Sit and tell me about the last things you’ve heard from our family.” Faust had to get his stories straight, after all. “I’ve been off on my travels for much too long.”
Rose tried not to laugh as she followed the moribund and his procession up the very grand staircase. She tried to look dour and sad, as she imagined mourners did. But looking dour and sad didn't really align with her personality, and she ended up looking like she had a bit of a stomachache. She settled, a moment later, on thinking about Justine, which always put her in tears, and by the time she rounded the corner into the blue room, she looked very splotchy indeed. She watched the furniture tut, and then she waved them away once he spoke. She wrung her hands with worry, thinking of Justine managing to earn more fans all the while, and then she climbed up onto the edge of his bed once the door had closed behind the retreating chair.
Her demeanor changed immediately once the door closed, brightened and blossomed, and she kicked her soft shoes off as she tucked her feet up on the bed beside her. "My sister is Snow White. She was queen to the North when she married Charming. Charming was not charming. He was here, but he's gone now, and I don't miss him at all. Snow and I have been at odds since before her wedding, when she abandoned me in the woods with mother to go be a princess. We've made a tentative peace now that Snow's divorced. She's here, but she's in the mundane world beyond the Homeland. I haven't seen mother since I went to live with the merchant, after I was cast out of Snow's kingdom." She smiled, copper-penny bright. "I was a princess there."
Faust seemed comfortable in his skin, but hadn’t actually relaxed since he arrived in this strange castle. But, the quiet of the room and her stories of kingdoms, queens and prince charmings made him exhale gently with a pleased turn on his lips. “That seems entirely complicated.” He said after a moment. “Did you like being a princess? I met a woman so suited for the aristocratic life that she had an entire collection of fans to hide behind. You do not remind me of her in the slightest.” It was a compliment, as was evident in the lift in his voice.
“I wasn’t born into riches. I learnt how to wear it properly as most ambitious poor men do, but I found there were too many people clawing to be offended by just the slightest slip.” He did more than offend and in fact towards the end he was downright terrifying, but those first few days with the devil at his side were a jolly exercise in knocking over expensive art and drinking much more than any respectable man in a silk vest should. That part of him had been buried since Gretchen, but the glint was still there. The trouble.
"It is complicated, and I hated it," she said of princesshood. It probably shouldn't have been said with such feeling, but there it was. "I was always jealous that Snow got to live in a castle and be a princess, that she married a prince and became a queen. I wanted it all so badly, and it festered inside me until I turned into this hateful and horrible thing that just wanted to see her as unhappy as I'd been when she left me behind. And then I learned that I hated it. I'm not made for walls. I'm made for trees and gardens and wild, untamed fields," she said, the understanding of herself born from many, many mistakes. She smiled her urchin's smile. "I would like a collection of fans, though," she admitted. "There were things about court I loved. The dancing, and the clothing. I could twirl for hours and never tire," she said honestly, and her bare feet twitched with the memory of it.
"But I understand what you mean. I had the title and the clothing, but I didn't belong. I offended everyone, but I did it intentionally. They expected the very worst from me, the red-haired sprite from the woods, and I endeavored to give them all the terrible things they expected." She recognized the trouble in his gaze, a kindred thing, but she didn't fear it. She never feared the things she should, even when she could see them with glaring clarity. "How did you leave that place and find yourself here?" she asked.
Faust never had a taste for fear. Caution maybe once in his life, but fear got in the way of knowledge and stopped desire dead in its tracks. He fancied himself not even afraid of this Beast she had told him about. His own demon had to have been ten times worse and smelt likely just as bad. The only time he was truly afraid was when Gretchen died and the mere thought of being lost in hell without her turned him into a quaking, pleading, sobbing mess. That felt so long ago now, like a memory lost while he was sleeping inside of a magician’s head.
“I believe I was at the end of my rope.” Faust said after a small amount of of humming in thought. The entire ordeal was difficult to explain without making himself out to sound like a villain comparable to whoever put the darkness over this land. “After years of debauchery and thumbing my nose at manners and social ladders, I fell in love with a girl who wasn’t at all like me. The sort that’s too kind and too forgiving.” He sighed with a shrug. “The monster that cursed me tried to damn her poor soul, but she was too good. She was saved by some great divine power and I was-” He sighed. “Dropped here. Far away from the gods and demons that I thought I knew.” Faust looked away from her for a moment, off at an old castle wall. “We’ll tell the Beast I was on a journey in the faraway parts of your land gathering information for your sister.” He looked back over at her and tapped the side of his nose. “Our sister.”
She almost asked where the girl was now. Snow would have immediately slapped a hand over her lips to keep her silent, but Snow wasn't there, and she had to fight very hard not to ask. But she wanted to know, and she tried to convince herself that the question would keep, that it could be asked when they knew each other better and it wouldn't seem like such an imposition. To that end, she stood, because she would poke at him if she stayed there, seated at the side of his bed.
Her intentions were, truly, good ones. She stood, and she moved toward the door, and she began to bid him farewell. But the words that escaped her lips were not as intended.
"Are you going to try to escape the Homeland to return to her?" she asked nosily. "So I may tell Snow," she added, but that was a lie and, surprisingly, Rose seldom lied. She was very upfront with her badness, and she sighed and corrected. "I didn't ask because of Snow. I asked because I wanted to know," she admitted, "though I will tell Snow. I must inform her you're here, and that you're hurt. She'll want to see you, and I'm throwing a feast for a few people anyway. She should come and stay. She's much better with you than I am," she added, in case any of the enchanted items did happen to know how to speak, in case they were listening. She'd never worried about them reporting to the Beast until then.
Faust was unaware of how sad talking about his lost Gretchen would make him and the introspective way he fiddled with his vest buttons seemed to say as much. He missed her, but in the same way someone would miss a past holiday. Finding her again wouldn’t rekindle what they had and more importantly, she’d never accept any sort of mischievous ways if he intended to marry her. And, wasn’t that all that he ever was? He pushed his top vest button halfway through, wiggling it a little back and forth before looking up at Rose as she stood at the door. Faust didn’t mind nosy, even if his answer couldn’t always be pleasant.
“No.” He said after a moment and chuckled at her sudden burst of honesty. “No.” Again, he shook his head and tilted it to the side as he looked at her. “Gretchen must be happy wherever she is. Perhaps a little nostalgic without me, but better off for it. Tell Snow, she’ll agree. Even if she’d likely want me out of the kingdom again anyway.” Faust hadn’t made up his mind about his lost love until at that moment, but the decision felt right. What was the point wailing at Heaven’s gates for her when he wasn’t even sure if she’d open them up for him? Besides, there were so many pieces on the board now for him to navigate through. Rose, her sister, the beast, the rest of this unknown kingdom. Faust wasn’t one to shy away from all that complication, intrigue and good company.
“A feast seems like just the thing to brighten this castle up. After I’ve rested, you must share the details of it with me. You know how I can get when there’s not a sweet enough dessert afterwards.” He gave her a smile to stop the small worry on her face as if to say he was apt at this sort of thing. A comfort most people wouldn’t want. “And, the only reason why Snow is better with me than you is because she refuses to encourage my bad behavior.” Faust didn’t know anything about the older sister, but he could gather she was a serious woman by the way Rose spoke of her. “You on the other hand are a terrible influence.”
Rose thought it a little sad, his insistence that his lost love must make do elsewhere. But it was only a little sadness. After all, Rose's life outside the protection of her mother's glen had taught her very few good things about love. Charming cheated and broke Snow's heart. And whatever his reason for lying with her, she knew it had nothing to do with love. Their first fiances, her's and Snow's, had cast them both off as insufficient, and now there was Draco and his interest in two people at once, which did not add her to her good opinion of romance in general. Perhaps Faust was better off without his love, she thought, unaware that a tempering force might be a very good thing for people like them.
She smiled when he agreed about the feast and, yes, he was much better at maintaining appearances than she was. It took her a moment to even understand why he'd been telling her to inform Snow about Gretchen, only moments earlier, but she was following more clearly now. "Snow refuses to encourage anything that might be fun, Faust. You know how she is. She's the very model of a dour and perfect queen. If only she wasn't so lovely. She needs a wart or two, perhaps some hair upon her chin," she teased, blue eyes going bright with mischief. As for Snow agreeing, it would be a challenge, but even so Snow couldn't be immune to someone as charming as Faust. Snow could say what she would, but she did like charming men. "Rest now, and I'll have them bring dinner up. You don't want to push yourself too soon."
Faust was honestly looking forward to winning over Snow, nevermind how difficult a stubborn woman could be. A stubborn lovely woman just made it all that more interesting. Being the newfound brother of two intriguing women would be difficult, especially with a Beast breathing down his neck, but if he really wanted to avoid danger he would have just braved the darkness outside of the castle. Surely cursed glass was less of a threat to his life than aristocratic social circles.
“Tell the Beast I’ll meet with him once he’s ready. With the darkness outside, I’m certain we have plenty of time to get everything settled.” Faust waved her off, waiting for the door to close before rolling over on his side and thinking of something he could do here to pass the time. There were no scientific equipment at hand, no free space to practice his magic. “Maybe I shall build a fiddle.” He told his wet coat hanging on his bedpost. Yes. It wouldn’t kill this castle to have some proper music haunting the hallways.