His heart betrayed the mind, skipping at the sound of her laughter, at the sight of that smile. The smile that lit the hallways and corridors of the Dark Castle far more than any ray of sunshine could, the smile that that rippled the blue of her irises, made them glimmer far brighter than any diamond he might have possessed or carried. Even the apples of her cheeks, they...they blossomed, like the flowers that she cared for, that she once caressed and held and cut in her hands as she spoke of heroes and adventure. The fop, so brave, so pointless... How could he resist that siren song, the selkie that poised before him?
His hands shook, eyes lingering on the slender fingers that drew closer, closer-- Warmth spread through clammy, scaled skin, a gasp escaping his mouth. Flesh met against flesh, her palms as soft and dainty as he remembered against the taut skin of leather. Her fingers, everything... His head snapped back up, eyes wide and glistening as he beheld the vision of everything pure and good and right that could have come from such a misadventure. The mask cracked, even popped, as the imp took a step closer. "Belle..." Words, once so sharpened and fine, blunted and tied in his mouth, failing him. Belle was here, Belle was alive.
A sob escaped him, his arms wrapping about the slender form, her solid form. The scent of her, his rose and thorns, wrapped him far closer than any other embrace could have. His Belle, truly his Belle, here, alive and well. "Oh Gods, you're alive," he gasped again.