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Vaughn Davis (shebringscurses) wrote in bellumlogs,

The witch said nothing for a long moment. Her attention wavered between the crimson stain on the gauze, to the young woman's face, and then down to the Beast. "I am not here to punish you," she murmured to reassure him once more. Slim-boned fingers hitched in the fabric of her cloak, hauling it's heavy luxury back onto her shoulders. It was obvious that she was preparing for a farewell, one that seemed to be leaving the two of them unscathed.

"If you believe her to be the one to break your spell, bonne chance." Somewhere, inside of her, Vaughn lashed out like a scream that echoed through her every cell. The witch tilted her head, wondering in that moment why she didn't punish the Beast some more. And the girl too, just for good measure. It seemed important, although she could not figure out why. The witch shook her head at the discomfort of such rivaling thoughts, and pulled the velvet cowl back over her hair.