Welcome to Gaia! ::

The beast is missing his bell from here in the rpg. As you see, the Beast would act more aggressive and different, but when Bell is around the beast, he seems.... Changed, as if he were to be another man, and a hopeful one. He is more pleased and relaxed when Bell is around, and she feels more happy and excited and open minded when he is with her. Bell misses the Beast since the Beast is off on a separate journey. They wish to be together because they'd be nothing without each other. Loves act differently around each other and the Beasts' heart must be raging without his beloved Bell beside him. Soon enough, Bell will be by his side, to care for him and sorry that they were ever apart.

The town lights were bright and the streets were clog with smokers standing outside of the pubs and restaurants. Men and women with bellies full of sweet liquor, staggered down the streets laughing and singing with merriment.

Tinker Bell who was perched in a tree near by watched in boredom as the humans mingled among them. This place called London was nothing like Netherland. In Netherland, there were parties everyday full with banquets of food and drinks. There were many creatures with many legs, fins, hooves, or no legs at all. There were the duels and adventure at every corner at her beloved home. She missed how brighter the stars seem there, how cleaner the air smells, and how warmer the sun felt. She even missed Pet–

A sudden irritation swelled up inside her. “No…,” she thought. “No! No! No! I don’t need him! I’ll make my own fun! I’ll find someone better than him!,” She pouted. “Why are humans so boring? Why can’t they be more fun? Why can’t they be fun like Pete–”

She stopped that thought and her face turned red. “No! Don’t think about him!,” she thought while stomping her feet. She heard a loud neigh and turned to see a horse and buggy coming through. She blew her fairy dust on top of the horse and watched with delight as the horse floated off the ground.

“Thee horze it is fallying!,” a drunk slurred out.

“What the hell! My horse! My horse! Someone helps me!,” the buggy handler screamed in fright as he fell off the buggy and hit the ground. The man groaned in pain as his arm bend in odd painful angle.

Tink giggled in amusement as the angry disappeared. She laughed as men try to pull the horse down by its reins while trying to avoid getting them kicked. “See I can make my own fun,” she thought. She laughed more while holding her stomach as the horse kicked one of the men into a puddle of mud.

While she was laughing, her eyes connected with a boy who held a look of amazement at her. He had a boyish face, messy sandy color hair, and dark brown eyes. He quickly looked away and walked away from the scene but not before making eye connect once more with her before quickly turning away.

She kept her eyes on the boy not paying attention to the horse who had its feet on the ground again and the buggy handler leaving in an ambulance. She brushes off her green dress and flipped her golden curls as she stood up from her tree branch with a smile as she followed him.

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The boy looked back to make sure no one was following them. He couldn’t help thinking about the small creature that took delight at the mischief it was causing. He remembered those bright blue eyes that seemed like he looked at them for an eternity but was only for seconds. He was nervous though nervous that he broke the rule and attracted the attention of something troublesome.

Rule one; don’t stare at the invisible faeries.

Rule two; don’t speak to invisible faeries.

Rule one; don’t attract their attention.

“I have enough problems…” Finley thought as he turned around one last time to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He read books about faeries and it wouldn’t be a good idea to have something as mischievous as the one he saw to be at the shop. His family runs a clock shop and his grandfather is known as the Clock Worker. He designed beautiful clocks of many sizes, shapes, and sizes. He also fixed them and made then better than they ever were. He was well know even if his shop was further away the town people come from all over just to have him work on their clocks. However, as with all humans at some point he has grown old and sick that he could hardly work. Therefore, as his grandson , he decided to help and run the shop. Although his craft is not as good as his grandfather he loves tinkering with each gear and screw of the clocks in the shop. He arrived at the shop and placed his bag on the workbench, not noticing a small glow following him into the house.

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Tink had quickly followed behind him before flying behind a clock. She looked in awe, as the room she was in was full of clocks of different shapes, sizes and colors. Each one of them designed so beautifully. However, each one was out of tune and it made her cringe. She wiggles her fingers having urges to tinker with clocks but quickly went back into hiding as an older man, clutching his hunchback, walked to the shop front. She watched as the two talk for a while where she found out the boy name was Finley.

As they finished talking the boy, lead the old man to his room in the back. “Don’t worry grandfather, I’ll watch the shop while you get some rest,” the boy said. The old man smiled before letting out loud coughs as he went into his room. “He’s getting worst…,” Tink heard the boy whispered. Finley walked to the workbench and emptied the contents of the bag on to it. Gears and other mechanical objects scatter on top of it. Tink watched with a bored expression as he began working at his workbench. The sounds of the clock's ticking out of sync and tools moving filled the room. Tink yawned loudly only closing her eyes for a second before quickly covers her mouth noticing he was staring at her.

“I thought I heard a bell like sound…,” he said with a glare. “Don’t bother me got it,” Finley said adjusting his goggles and continued his work. Tink puffed out her cheeks not liking the boy’s attitude. She flew down to the workbench to get a closer look and stared at the unique object he was working on with interest.

"What is it?," he asked watching the small faerie eyes focus on the thing he was tinkering with.

"It's a clock, a very special clock…a clock shaped like a sandcastle. See, the seaweed turns to show how the minutes and hours pass. The frame case is gold, the polish window is very precious, and the whole thing is fragile which means it’s valuable so be careful. "

Tink slowly nodded her head. She watched him tinker with the clock and then another. She watched with interests at the focus look the boy wore. She decided to stay to see more of the boy so every morning she watched the Finley greet the customers and watched the smiles he put on their faces with the clocks he cared for. Every evening she watched him tinker away and making new clocks. At times Tink helped with his work, which gave him more time to play with the faerie. She loved those times when he pays attention towards her only. The more time they spent together, the more closer they got to each other. She could always tell from his face when he was in trouble, and never left his side whenever he felt sad. She chased away the young girls and mean customers who bother him during work by pulling their hairs giving them a fright. Although he scolds her for that, he tries to suppress his laughter. As months passed, she found that she truly cared for the young clock worker. The boy was full of enthusiasm and drive that reminded her of someone far away. She decided that her new home was with Finley by his side and nothing was going to separate them.

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However, the day came when the boy’s grandfather passed away which made him very depress. He focused more on his clocks and rarely showed a smiled at the customers. The boy became a serious young man who hardly looked at the faerie. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get his attention. “Not now he would say.” “Not today, Tinker Bell,” he’ll say. It irritated her and she wasn’t having fun! She liked the tinkering but she wanted to have fun more. So she decided to be mischievous one day by moving his tools each time he placed them down on the bench. Or she used her magic to make them float around him. She laughed at the confused look on his face not able to tell that only made him angry.

“Would you stop!,” He yelled slamming his fist on the bench almost hitting the faerie. Tink quickly moved out the way in complete shock. “How dare he!,” she thought. “After all the things she did for him! After all the things we did together!,” Her face became red as angry swelled up inside her that she exploded. She began swirling surround the shop knocking every clock on the wall and tables. Each one smashing into pieces as they hit the ground. The poor clock worker tried to stop her but she was far too quick. When she final cool down she looked around the shop and saw the damage she caused. She looked at the clock worker who looked like he was going to say something but she quickly flew away with tears in her eyes.

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Days went by since she left the clock worker and the faerie wept every night about what she did. She couldn’t suppress her feelings for him and she wished she could control her emotions. She knew she was might be in love, but after what she did she didn’t deserve him. So she thought the right thing to do was to apologize and leave Finley forever.

That night Tink went to the clock worker’s house and entered through the mail slot. She was a little nervous as she heard rumors that the clock shop was losing its golden reputation. That Finley has locked himself from the outside world and haven’t been selling his clocks. She looked around and saw some new clocks on the walls and shelves but they didn‘t hold the same awe that she was used to seeing. They were very plain and not something that she ever seen Finley created. Her eyes caught the young man’s sleeping form at his workbench. There were many broken clocks left on his workbench that she recognized as the ones she broke. She cracked her knuckles and went to work. Twisting and turn each gear of every clock.

By morning, she fixed every clock in the shop. Each one had their tunes in sync with one another and their tunes chimed lovely melodies. She flew next to young man who was still asleep and gave a small smile. She lean in and gave a small kiss on the cheek for it was last time she was going to see him. She was about to fly away when something shining caught her eye. She went over to man’s hand and pried it open. In it was an elegant gold chained pocket watch with vine like details decorated on it. She opened the watch and inside she couldn’t help but let out a small tinkling gasp. It was a beautiful drawing of the faerie with numbers around her and covers with thin clear glass. “Why would he make this? This elegant piece of work!,” she thought. She doesn’t deserve this after what she did. She wanted to cry she wanted to leave.

Tink fluttered her wings about to take flight when a glass top blocks her escaped. Tink hit the wall and try to get through but it was too strong for the faerie. She noticed that below her was hand palm and she turned around to see her captor was the clock worker himself. He wore a sad smile on his face as he carried her over to the old sand castle clock and removed the top. He dropped her in and sealed the top with a tight twist.

Tink tried to remove it but to no avail she walked over to the glass window of her prison and watched as the clock worker put on his goggles and began tinkering away on one of the clocks. Tink watched in confusion not understanding why she was place in here that she started knocking on the window hoping to get his attention. The young man ignored her for what seems like hours and soon Tink had given up. As the young man worked, she couldn’t help the fluttering in her heart. The focus in his eyes and the boyish glee he gets when he finished with one. Tink continued to watch hiding a small smile forming on her lips.

Evening came and Tink watch as he finished his last clock. He made a big stretch and loud yawn before turning his attention to her. He gave her a smile and placed his finger on the glass as Tink places her own hand on it. “I’m sorry…,” he began. “Tinker Bell … I need you …I can’t work without you…No matter what I create it don’t have the magic like the ones I created with you. That’s why I want you to stay with me…we can create clocks together like old times. We don’t need anyone else. It will just be the two of us so please don’t go…,” he pleaded as kneel his head down as if he was begging.

Tink watched the clock worker kneel his head down in front of her. She didn’t know what to say. No one ever express himself or herself like this towards her. She never had someone to love only her and someone who belongs just to her. A smile of delight formed on her face. She knocked on the glass window to get his attention. The clock worker looked up and saw Tink give him a happy nod. He quickly removed the top and Tink flew out and spread her faerie dust all around. Soon each one of the clocks began to float along with the clock worker himself who laughed like he was boy again. The two flew around the shop having the fun they use to have and Tink couldn’t be any happier. Someone needs her. She had gotten her wish and no one was going to take that away. She has found her home beyond Netherland with someone who is loyal only to her.

The End

With enough years of surgery experience under one’s belt, Charlotte Frankenstein had learned, one could perform more routine procedures under the worst circumstances. She’d removed gallbladders at the end of thirty-six hour shifts, sewed up ulcers while running a fever herself, and reattached a severed finger mere minutes after learning of the death of her dear cousin, Victor. Now that her patients weren’t even alive, Charlotte found another circumstance in which she could perform adequately—piss-drunk. That night she had decided to work on attaching the leg tendons of her latest experiment, taking swigs from a personal bottle of absinthe all the while.
She enjoyed the spirit for its potent burn and for the peppery, licorice-like taste. The other reason she had for drinking it was embarrassing to admit, even to herself. Wormwood, that mild hallucinogen, was the key to unlocking her presence. Lillian’s presence.
The young doctor pulled her prematurely-grey hair back into its usual, loose braid and picked up a scalpel from her tray, making a long incision into the dead, detached limb on her table. Pulling back the skin with one hand and pulling from the bottle in her other, she set to work before the visions started.

---

Lillian.
Lillian, in her green summer frock, blonde hair sparkling in the sun. It was untameably curly and framed her pretty little head like a halo. Charlotte had grabbed the nursing student’s hand on her way out from class, pulling her behind the shelter of a university building for a hidden peck on her pretty little lips. Lillian giggled every time, and squeezed the doctor’s hand a little tighter.
That day, they snuck away to a nearby lake, picnicking on bread and cheese and a bottle of wine from Charlotte’s father’s cellar. They lay back in the grass, staring at the impossibly blue sky and delicate wisps of clouds. Charlotte rolled over onto her side, and felt she might go blind from the heat of Lillian’s perfect smile. It was the last time she saw that smile.

---

The first tendon was exposed. Charlotte picked up the foot it was to attach, this one freshly plundered and still soft. She cut into the skin of the ankle, down to the bone, to find a proper attachment point. Out of instinct, she flexed her own ankle, feeling where it tensed and moved, and she pictured the page from her anatomy textbook where the attachment was explained. She had done this in reverse on the cadaver dissection in medical school, and she had reattached several tendons after a carriage crash in her first year of residency. After she had uncovered Victor’s sparse, nearly unintelligible notes, she had practiced on as many severed limbs as she could lug home unnoticed from her hospital’s amputation unit. Though the alcohol was beginning to buzz in her stomach and her head, the procedure wouldn’t be difficult in the least.
It was the last step she needed before the test run. She paused, looking into the face of the cadaver in her lab. It was waxen. Fake. She wondered if any spark of electricity could change that.

---

Lillian’s face had even been full of life the next week, as she stood over the casket of her father, tears silently streaming down her plump cheeks as the box was lowered into the prepared hole in the ground. It was raining that day, and Charlotte held a black parasol over her beloved’s veiled head, though she stood a good half a foot taller than the doctor. Charlotte felt self-conscious in her white lab coat, standing out among the sea of black, though she realized that wasn’t why most of the funeral-goers were staring at her. Though no one dare speak ill of the town’s most promising medical practitioner or her choice of bedfellows, she knew the gist of what they said behind doors.
Charlotte had performed the autopsy herself, determining the cause of death to be several puncture wounds to the old man’s stomach. He had been in considerable debt before death, so it did not come as a huge surprise that someone had become sick of waiting on promised payments. Still, Lillian wept bitterly, and Charlotte felt sick.
Lillian had been in a dark mood since her father’s death, and even weeks later, it did not show signs of lifting. So that night, armed with her newly inherited notes on resurrection, Charlotte visited that still-fresh grave, armed with a trowel, her medicine bag, and a small generator.

---

The attachment was finished, and the foot rotated and flexed nicely on its new leg. Charlotte sat down for a brief rest. When she closed her bleary eyes, the green fairy appeared before them, but—
Something was wrong. The fairy was not her Lilian, as usual. This time, it was actually a fairy. The fairy from that party, Charlotte realized. The one who led her to that bacchanal. What a scene that had been. She recalled very little of it, but the visions had been horrible and wonderful simultaneously. And that little fairy, who reminded her so much of Lillian, just as beautiful, as mischievous, as full of life. Charlotte had felt something stir in her chest, something that she hadn’t felt since her days at medical school, when she first laid eyes on the love of her life. That was why she followed the fairy, and joined in her wild soiree.
But almost as soon as she had appeared, the vision of that other, fickle fairy disappeared. It was replaced with—

---

Lillian’s horrified face appeared at Charlotte’s door late the next night. She beckoned her lover in, where she instantly collapsed, heaving, onto a couch.
“Charlotte, I saw him, that brute—that abusing, wretched, drunken brute—“ Lillian sobbed into Charlotte’s breast. “He was at my window, he came back to tell them—“
“Lillian, darling, who did you see? What happened? Has someone hurt you?” Charlotte had never seen her love like this. Her usually rosy cheeks were gaunt and sunken, and her the intelligent spark in her bright green eye had been replaced with one of terror and madness.
“My father!” Lillian cried. “Charlotte, I never wanted you to know!”
Charlotte’s stomach sunk. Her actions in the graveyard… she had expected Lillian to arrive ecstatic. This was not what she had expected, and she realized, with a wave of guilty nausea, that she may have done something monsterous.
“Lottie, I killed him! That animal would never touch me, or my mother, or my sister again! I know justice is in the hands of our Lord, but may He preserve my soul, I drove that blade into his bloated stomach. He was so drunk he didn’t feel a thing ‘til he was bleeding like a pig at my feet,” Lillian spat. “And now the Lord has decided to raise him from the dead, to reveal my deed to the world!” With that, she rose, shedding her cloak and revealing the blood-stained dress she wore, and the dagger fastened at her waist, which she removed and held to her own neck. “Charlotte, I would have loved you until the end of the world, but I must face my deed. I’ll destroy the evidence tonight!”
“Lily, you’ve gone mad, you must stop!” Charlotte lunged towards the girl, but she pressed the knife harder to her throat. Her eyes were wild.
“Goodbye, Charlotte,” she said, backing towards the door. “I came to say goobye.” With that, the woman went out the door, leaving her lover crying on the cold stone floor.
They found Lillian hanged the next day, confession written in her pocket. Her father was never seen nor heard of again, though some thought his grave plot looked disturbed when they went to bury his daughter.

---

At the party, Charlotte had met, well, met with the most fantastic characters. One Count Dracula had even gone so far as to supply her with fresh blood, which she had now hooked up to a pneumatic pump feeding into the aorta of her experiment. And throughout the night, Tinkerbell glistened and glowed, bringing back haunting memories and, finally, forcing the doctor’s hand.
After sleeping a hangover off most of the next day, Charlotte stole out in the dead of night to a family plot she had disturbed once before. She found the body, decently preserved, though in need of some fixing up. Six sleepless days later, it was ready to be electrified. She hadn’t replicated Victor’s success yet, but it had to work this time, it had to—
She threw the switch, and the laboratory was lit by thousands of volts suddenly flowing into the statuesque, blonde body on her table. She watched, breathless from a mixture of hope and apprehension, as the body stirred, then sat up—
Then the current flow was cut, and everything was silent. Charlotte walked, apprehensively, towards the table. Its eyes were open. Her eyes were open. She brought herself to look her straight in the face, straight into those beautiful green eyes she had loved so dearly…
But it was not to be. The eyes were blank. There was no life behind them. Its torso slumped back to the table, lifeless, one delicate hand fallen to its side. Charlotte collapsed onto the experiment’s chest.
“Lillian,” she sobbed, “Lillian, Lillian, Lillian…”
She had tried to bring her back, and she would try again. She would stop at nothing. The next day, she would go through Victor’s notes again, one green fairy to keep her company until she brought her own green fairy back.

It was on a evening, where our story starts. In the living quarters of a manor infused with the City of Vallum’s opera and theater arts building, built in the center of the city.

Within said room, was a man with dark, short, blond hair, in a lab coat, slacks and a green button down shirt with a tie decorated in pink and purple stripes, stroked by white lines. He was pleading to a glowing figure in green, for assistance with his project for a upcoming play, in front of a nightstand with a dim candle light almost diminished by the figure’s own illumination.

The bright figure, slightly looks away form him when he stops talking. Her expression hidden behind the light, was one of doubt and second thoughts, but then it perked up when she faced Chris again. She began to strike a deal with him of sorts. One that would be beneficial to her reason for coming to this world.

Chris listened wholly as he clasped his hands together, and made one rub the other as a sign of self comfort. The figure dressed her request as only to allow her to do what she pleased without question until a time she allowed them. The deal obviously lacked meat and dialogue, but Chris did not care. He agreed, and raised his hand toward her direction, to show that he wanted to seal everything with a hand shake. She began to glow brightly, at a very slow rate, and the room almost seemed to have a second sun within it. Chris remembered that he didn’t know her name, and asked for it before the room was too bright.

The figure smiled as beam of light and dust drifted toward his hand, and replied ‘Tinker Bell.’

Outside of a room leading to the room, hung a bat with gray, beady eyes. Looking in the direction of the window above it, it screeched as it released its grip form it’s perch, and flapped several feet away and under the window. At a certain distance, the bat’s body spun into what looked like a hand towel being twisted, and darted south east of the city.

-

Distant to Vallum, near the outskirts of the city, there is a tall building of shelves and books centering cushioned chairs, and a table, and a wooden floor. Behind and above these bookshelves was a balcony, overlooking and encircling everything on it‘s own story, with windows almost on every pivot.

A dashing young man sat at this table, with a book to his left, and a beverage to his right. His red eyes skimmed over a book, within the field of silver reading glasses. He tapped the edge of the book with his hand dressed in black gloves. Matching his black suit.

Suddenly, he moved his eyes in three directions, and sighed, before telling a bat under the balcony to his right, to show himself as a guest at the table. And so the bat, hidden within the darkness, flapped toward the table, and somersaulted in midair. It appeared in the same appearance it took when traveling, but it grew in size. The wind lightly kicked up in in the young man’s direction, as the bat was now a cape. With a loud flick of the cape, a man of a dark tone drifted to the floor, and took slow strides to the table.

The young man, named Dorian Gray, flipped his book closed with a smirk. Dorian asked his guessed, what brought him to his residence at such an hour? And that the Ball wasn’t until tomorrow. The man smirked, and slowly waved a rose under his chin left and right. His gray eyes behind a black eye mask looking Dorian up and down, from his strawberry blonde hair to his chin, he replied that he had interesting information. Information about staying in this world, with only time to be the price.

The masked man sat down, at an angle of Dorian, and spoke of a lady he would die to meet now that she has left her land of fiction. Dorain scuffed and spoke of how he has little need of vampires and werewolves dirtying his cloths with either blood or hair… or both. But the masked man sparked a ridiculous expression on Dorian’s face, when he said fairies aren’t known to have either. Or at least, they weren’t a problem.

Dorian looked over his book shelves with a stern expression, and then back at the masked man. Dorian then challenged him, by repeating ‘fairies’ in the form of a question. But the masked man only answered by pointing toward the second floor balcony. Dorian smiled, and stood up. Striding toward the stairs, and through a pair of doors, he looked through each window he passed upon reaching balcony level. He saw a very faint but very unusual light in the distance, passed the shorter buildings and street lights. Dorian asked the masked man, who slowly approached and stood next to him, why should he would Chris need a fairy. Obviously thinking past what he thought as obvious answers.

The masked man, seen by very few, and known for his handsomeness as simply ‘Mr.X’, replied that she wanted to make a deal with him, and he seemed pressed for something.

Dorian, who had already grabbed his cane and traveling hat, placed the hat on his head and hoped Chris didn’t mind if he pressed even more. Mr.X laughed as burst into several pats and red rose petals. Both the bats and the petals then scattered throughout the house, but this was only a sign of him leaving the house and following Dorian.

-

Chris banished beads of sweat form his head, and patted sparking dust off his cloths, as he adjusted what seemed to be a stage prop into a spot in one of many halls, on the third floor. Where it would be hidden in plain site, like the rest of the props setup. He had a worried look on his face, even though he was instructed to use his cunning to make wit testing traps throughout the structure by Tinker Bell. Leaving the stage bare of everything. Even the piano. Now all that was left, is to rush to where Tinker Bell waited for him. Perhaps she knew about someone coming, and didn't want them to disturb his project, on the first floor, in the back of the building, where the third study was. From the window to his left, he saw a pair of men standing in front of the entrance, and wore a puzzled face at how one of them resembled Dorian. He heard a knock from the floor underneath him and saw sparking dust appearing out of thin air. This must be her sign of telling me to hurry back, so they can begin on Chris's project.

"Love's Tomb"

XXXXXXXThe story takes place during the mid-1800’s there were only streetlamps of candles that lite the tiny streets of Devenborough. Only but a small little town in the bosom of France, which consisted of only a few hundred hardworking townsfolk within the tiny village. Yet, this was no ordinary village, there upon the summit of the town lived a castle, a castle of the upmost of magnitude that overlooked the small community. The luxurious castle seemed almost empty at times whenever villagers would near its’ statuess structure, calming the mansion to be haunted or deserted. Either way, fate was to decide upon the outcome of our stories nature.
XXXXXXXThe full moon lighted the path of the quiet streets, a hushed silence was a foul mood in the air as not a sight was to be seen. Yet, through midnight’s fog only a long figure was to be seen through shadows. The figure was cloaked, yet the cold night’s air could be seen from the breath upon our weary guest. The stranger was only a visitor to these parts, what does this traveler gain by traveling at such ungodly hour? The cloaked figured continued down the lone path of empty streets, empty shops, and unwilling houses to open their doors to such a mystery of a creature that lurks during the night.
XXXXXXXThe castle seemed bare as if a ghost was the only one to live in such a dismal place, but there lived a human there. A unsocial being named Grey, Dorian Grey, who was the only heir of his fortune, and nearly at a young age of 29, he seems to only spend his life away in solitary confinement of these hollow walls of a palace. Dorian would only spend most of his days lingering by the window looking out at the other townsfolk, or drowned in a unique book. Dorian managed to survive day by day by a lone butler who took care of his essential living needs, but the butler does not converse or show himself upon the master. For Dorian always enjoyed his solitary lifestyle with having no one to worry about.
XXXXXXXThe chilled night brought the weary cloaked traveler with only misfortune as the few trickles of rain fell from the sky and unto the village. The trickles quickly grew into a gushing downpour of frozen water droplets as they seem to bite into the already numb stranger. The cloaked mystery seemed to hasten in their step and from spotting a candle in a lone window of the castle. In this seemingly dark village there was a glimmer of hope that there would be a human to help this poor guest to a warm fireside. The cloaked stranger only rushed to the mansion in hopes of there being shelter from this sudden downpour of a chilled winter’s night.
XXXXXXXDorian Grey was in his study which consisted of walls of books from ceiling to floor, many books seem to only lay stacked and in a mess on the ground. Yet, this did not detour Dorian’s desire for knowledge. As his father too was a great man of scholar and information, the trait seemed to pass down from father to son by genetics. A small scowl formed on his face as his eyes motioned over every word on the page, he too was not fond of such manners of memory that in trivial lingering thoughts wavered upon his distractions. He, heard the grandfather clock chime startling him from his own provocations of his mind. The bell on the grand clock rung twelve times, causing him to pause from his chair and throw the book upon the pile with a simple motion. How long has it been raining? Dorian stretched out from his stiff stature having been reading for quite some time now, he blew out the lone candle in the room. As the hour was late, his butler had already retired for the evening, leaving only Dorian to walk the empty halls. He watched the rain pelt the windows in a seemingly flow of water that danced upon the glass.
XXXXXXXThe lone cloaked stranger raced up the steep valley towards the castle, the person under the hood looked up from its’ gaze to apprehend upon the right path towards the enormous castle. The downpour of rain obscured most of the vision on the lone individual, the pause in their tracks seemed almost of a confusion as the single light had disappeared from the castles windows. Was it only a figment of fatigue in this imagination of a creature? The hour was late and the weather was restless the hooded figure hade to seek shelter somewhere and all that was left was the castle beyond the reach’s gaze. The mysterious being continued up step hill as mud began to stumble its feet and faulted the stride of the stranger. Having reached the top and out of strength the weary traveler hurried to the ominous doors of the mansion. The dirt covered hooded individual staggered to the door and pounded on the wooden doors with all their might.
XXXXXXXA thunderous boom had echoed through the lone corridors, sending Dorian’s attention to the nose. Was it thunder? He paused again to hear beyond the violent crashes of raindrops that tapped against the manor. Again the nose rang out through the halls, the noise was from the pounding at the front door? Who could it be bothering him at such a late hour, he could only frown at displeasure of being interrupted from his attempt to go to bed for the night. The pounding continued as he hastened his stride to the door. He soon reached the door as the banging continues to weaken in clamor, he cracked the door just in case there was a miss happening that was to unfold.
XXXXXXXHis distaste for unknown fellows soured his mood causing him to only act in fit of a sate. “What do you want at such a ungodly hour!?” He yelled with unease at the hunched figure before his door.
XXXXXXX“Please, I beg you; I seek shelter and refuge from this unholy weather…” The voice was hoarse as it cracked pleading with the man hidden behind the door.
XXXXXXX“Go away! We do not allow beggars upon our step!” He attempted to close the door, but was only stopped by the stranger’s force of pushing from the other side.
XXXXXXX“…please… only for a few minutes for me to catch my breath? I will pay you for your troubles…” The almost rough voice was at its limit exhaustion setting in, and the numbness was setting in the frozen body.
XXXXXXX“Let me see your change then!” He demanded wanting a confirmation about the trade, yet only a pause awaited the other side of the door. ‘Was he deaf?’ “YOUR CHANGE THEN SIR?!” He yelled out hoping for the unknown assailant to hand over the pocket change by now. Dorian was at his limit, ‘Does this guy want to die?’, he pulled open the door to only see the hunched mud covered figure collapsed in front of his door. Dorian paused at such bewilderment has never fallen upon him, and not knowing what to do…
XXXXXXXShould he call to his butler?... but he did not know where or even who his butler is. He lightly kicked at the hooded strangers curious to see if he was alive or not. Should he call to officers to apprehend the foreigner? Yet, knowing them they would most likely arrive when convenient after this downpour and in the morning. But, he knew he couldn’t just leave a corpse in front of his gates, even though he was anti-social he did have a shred of kindness. He turned over the body with his shoe as if it was an infested vermin, he would have to dispose of his shoes after. The unconscious body rolled over on its back as the soaked hood fell from the head of the creature revealing only a maiden.
XXXXXXXDorian paused his mind went blank having thought the stranger was an old man by the voice. He frowned not knowing what to do for the first time, he was usually keen and serene. Dorian couldn’t just leave her hear. He was uncertain of what to do with her though, first things first Dorian had to bring her in from this cold. Dorian reached for the stranger and pulled her from the ground. Goodness, she must have been out there for a while, her skin was stone cold to the touch. He pulled her into his arms, her frail soaked wet body was light in his arms.
Dorian gently brought her to the closest room from the entrance at the foyer, to a room that contained an unlit fireplace and few armchairs and a few empty desks. Dorian rested her on the sofa and quickly turned to the fire to start the flame. Dorian swiftly started the wooden logs to set ablaze the dark room. As the fire slowly crackled to warm the room, his attention drew to the young lady upon his sofa. He was able to notice the features on woman’s face, her face was utterly stunning. He had to take a breath in embarrassment for having thought of such indecent things while she lay there unknowing. Dorian had to get her out of those mud covered clothes, again a blush arose on his face as his thoughts began to wander again.
XXXXXXXDorian was able to remove her mud covered cloak, revealing only a worn out tattered dress, she almost appeared to be a slave or homeless brat. He groaned hoping he didn’t pick up a lone pup off the streets. For he knew not of what to do with such a lovely looking face, as he brushed off the golden bangs from across her face to get a better view of her face. She seemed almost still and unmoving as his hand brushed across her forehead. Dorian then checked her pulse on her arm to affirm that she was still alive, her skin was still frozen, but showing improvement from when he first met her.
XXXXXXX‘Who was this mysterious lovely creature before him?’ Dorian only questioned the unanswered. He pulled back from the mystery to sit on an armchair facing the sofa. ‘I hope this isn’t some trickery…’ Dorian’s thoughts continued to linger about the lady as his eyelids grew heavy, slowly drifting off to an uncomfortable slumber.
XXXXXXX“Sir?... Sir?” The familiar voice of his butler suddenly startled his sleep, Dorian jolted up in attention his eyes still drowsy. “Sir, good you are awake, what am I to do with the matter of our guest?”
XXXXXXXDorian’s attention fell to the empty sofa where she was last seen. The chair remain empty, he roughly stood up as a knot held in his neck from sleeping in this uncomfortable position. “Where is the girl?!” Dorian growled up at the butler his eyes held unease.
XXXXXXX “Calm yourself master, she is safe within a guest room, sleeping soundly.” The butler responded in Dorian’s unnerving emotion.
XXXXXXXDorian let out a sigh of relief and stretched out his back, as his bones creaked under the stiffness. “Ugh… how is she?” Dorian’s wondering continued on the maiden.
XXXXXXX“She sleeps soundly and she appears to be fine.” The butler responded in a factual state.
XXXXXXX“Hmm… good… Ugh can you take care of her until she is better.” Dorian was unable to help because he knew not what to do about the situation much less about a female. A female, within his castle, he felt his heart waver for the first time. ‘Why was the devil so much stronger then man?’ He had to calm his nerves.
XXXXXXX“Alright then sir, your breakfast is ready at the dining table.” The butler then turned to leave to care for the maiden as he left Dorian alone.
XXXXXXXDorian then headed for the dining table and sat at his usual seat at the end of the long wooden table. He solemnly ate alone his thoughts lingering about the mysterious woman, as he was unable to taste the flavors as he gobbled up the contents of the plate in a few bites. He wished to know the story behind this lovely young maiden…
XXXXXXXShe stirred from her slumber under the warm blankets. ‘Warm blankets?’ Her eyes jolted awakened by the confusion. Her eyes fell on the thick fluffy blankets that covered her warmed body , I sat up wondering to where my thoughts were that I managed upon this endeavor.

[Summery of the ending]Azixe cleans herself up and borrows one of the butler's daughters dress, wich she appears as a beauty. Meets Dorian for the first time and he absolutely hates her yet there is kinda lie about him him that she couldn't put her finger on. Maybe Dorain was secretly in love but he refused to let anyone into his heart. Thus to put it simply the butler comes up with a plan for his master, Dorian, to find love and open up his empty heart. The butler suddenly disapears, the story turns into a mystery. Which Azixe assume Dorian had done something sinister with his usual angry attitude of his. But Dorian too thinks Azixe had done something to his butler, and he would never keep his eyes off her after his disappearance. So they kinda go together on this investigation/treasure hunt/adventure for the butler that the butler had set up secretly. While on the adventure they run into several of obstacles that end up bringing them closer yet they don't wanna admit to their true feelings for each other. Dorian gets Azixe so mad that she leaves him, yet Dorian regrets having pushed her way and hurting her. Some hoodlums end up catching Azixe and Dorian tries to save her. Dorian fights off the brutes ending up getting stabbed, Azixe claims it was her fault and apologizes/tears rolling down face not wanting him to leave her. Dorian ends up calming her down calming it was only a flesh would and he admitted he felt the same way about her. Through meeting Azixe, she has opened up his world to this new life. The butler walks out of the shadow and applauded at the two. The butler had set everything up in the end and apologized to his master but the butler was thankful now that his master was not alone.

-I chose the Title "Loves Tomb" because through tout the story they would endure each others hate and hopefully in the end they will have fallen in love with one another.