Re: 10th floor stairwell, 12:05 am
"I understand," the witch consoled Hannah as she struggled through the memory. Vaughn, herself, was having a difficult time with sorting through the strange myriad of conscious thought she found herself in. She wasn't confused, only conflicted. Part of her wanted to think about Daniel, but the witch was vehement that Daniel -- whoever he was -- did not matter. He was to be punished, not mused over. Just like the Beast; what worry was The Beast to her now? He'd made his choice, and she'd paid him well for it, in the form of a curse that she was fairly certain would never be broken.
Strange, how just as she was thinking this through, Vaughn could have sworn that she heard the echo of an angry roar from some floor above them. Her chin rose for a glimpse up the stairs, thoughtful. A brief cut of light illuminated the deep wrinkles of her face, but then her chin dropped, and it was gone beneath shadows once more.
As Hannah vaguely outlined the cruelty she'd met at the hands of this prince, the witch lifted her fingers. An experimental touch to such delicate, blonde hair. But something Hannah said gave the witch pause, and her withered hands returned to the dark folds of her lap immediately. "What do you mean, the magic will wear off?"