Beauty and His Beast Chapter 1

Skye witnesses an alien crash-landing and finds a girl amid the wreckage.

The night was frozen and snow fell slowly, in tiny crystals, throughout the pine forest. They could almost appear as stars dancing down to earth in this silvery state. Far beneath the snow and clouds, though, under the pine's gently swaying tips, resting on a rock outcropping in the mountain was a young elven man. His hair shone in a radiant shimmering faded gold, spiraling lazily in the breeze of midnight. By elven standards he was not tall, his frame was light, and his features proved very delicate- he was a being directly bred out of elven royalty. His name proved to be Skylar Belcrest, the son of Lady Yin Loire and Lord Iris Belcrest- heirs to the throne of Aedaele. Time indeed had been cruel to him. He had lost his wife- his life mate, his family, and most recently: his children.

It had been months since Skye had seen his twins; his ears still rang with their terrified cries in the night. He could visualize their horrified faces as they realized he would not be coming back. Unable to raise them alone, and living as a fugitive, he was forced to leave the two in the willowy arms of his very worried- and shocked- adoptive mother. Throughout the night he abandoned them, he was haunted repeatedly by the face of Ellora as it sank beneath the sea; she eternally floated in the soundless elegance of blackened white-tipped waves, and he knew that if she were able to somehow hear of what he'd done he would never be forgiven. All this time had passed and he well knew all was his fault, and he could not change the path he had passed down. So now, as he often did, he sat alone in the iced midnight air, simply breathing, and living as a man just waiting to die. The drop of sand in an hourglass was what each day represented; in the past it had seemed much more consequential.

So, staring up at the shadowed heavens from his perch upon mountain side, he thought of all he could have done. All the battles he could have avoided, the stupid arguments he would have spared his wife, the things he should have shown his children- everything he wanted now could never be, and that awareness hurt him. Outside of his thoughts, barely noticeable in the night, was a strange glowing object drawing closer to the circle of the earth; had he seen it then it would have been passed off as a falling star. It seemed to be spiraling, not out of control, yet clearly in distress. Violet flames on the underside of the object flared repeatedly in what could be assumed an attempt to slow down. The man remained consumed in his overwhelming mental chaos, even as the object careened down through the thin atmosphere and eventually passed through the scattered wisp of clouds only a few miles above.

The glow this strange object emitted was no longer, by any standard, able to be ignored. Lights glared off it once it came under the cloud layer. In fact it was nearly blinding, and as Skye turned his azure eyes to the strange thing falling from the stars, he began to panic. Frantic now, hoping this isn't some means of pursuit by the nobles through the use of an airship, he lunges for the trees in desperation. He prays they, if indeed it is them, haven't seen him and watches carefully from under pine branches as the object- now identifiable as a craft of some sort- slows in it's fall and hovers above a clearing near to half a league away from his current position. On the underside of the craft strange bluish flames now pulsated most unnaturally, seeming to keep it in it's hovering state. Curiously spying on the foreign ship, the young blond begins to creep cautiously across the mountain side, knowing -after observation- the craft was clearly of no human design; they were incapable of such mastery.

Skye stretches as he stands, deciding how best to go about getting closer. Strange things such as this did not occur everyday, and Skye was drawn to it by a force within the craft itself. The force he felt erased the pain and fear he maintained from the loss of Ellora and his children; even the horrors of his inability to find his sister were lessened. He sprints down a path between rows of pines and slides to a stop on a ledge further down the mountain; from this new placement he would be both sheltered from view, and allowed to see the full expanse of valley containing the ship. His efforts return to focusing on the semi-oval-shaped object not far below. The luminescent glow grew less and less the longer it hovered there, even the blue flames gracing the bottom seemed duller. Narrowing his eyes, Skye makes out the scores of gashes in the ship's outer layer, scorch marks and smoldering flames were present as well- the brightness had masked them. Concentrating even harder still, he realizes the craft was just barely holding together; at the seams, where once reflective metal had been fused together, the frame was bent and shredded. The question dances across his features, “what happened?” No answer projected itself clearly, Skye could only speculate the possibilities.

An easy first scenario would be the ship had been gunned down, but the shredded metal begged a different answer. The frame had been ripped apart as if by enormous claws, and to his knowledge no weapon existed that could simulate that kind of trauma on a craft this immense. Thinking again he decides there was also a likelihood it may have crashed elsewhere and managed to return to the sky long enough to get to the valley. Ultimately no decision really made sense, and his brainstorming was cut short by the creaking sound of metal folding in upon itself- the frame had collapsed sending it immediately slamming to the earth from the height of the tree tops. Skye stares in an almost emotionless state as a ball of smoke and fire burst from the wreckage into the few pines growing on the fringe of the clearing; he sad seen things like this too many times before for it to really be entirely shocking, but it still held status as greatly disturbing.

On the move again, Skye jumps into the upper branches of a pine off the edge of the cliff ledge he stood on moments ago. If there were people in that wreck they would need help, and fast. He pauses to gain his footing, and then begins the painstaking process of jumping from treetop to treetop. Occasionally he would maintain his grip on the tree, the tip would then sway close enough to another that he could simply latch onto that and continue the motion until he needed to change direction. Were a human to try this same task their body would prove too heavy and their jumps not far enough.

When he finally reaches the vicinity of the flaming wreckage, he quickly jumps down through the branches to get to the forest floor. Charred pine needles rain down from the trees nearest the explosion. Luckily none of the them seemed to be going up in flames, it was mostly contained in a large circle around what used to be the ship. To say the least, it was larger than he had expected...much larger than he expected. His lips form a thin line and he sighs, beginning his search for survivors, fully expecting to find only charred and mangled bodies. Dodging smoldering heaps of electronics, and things of the like, he gradually works his way towards the central hub of the wreck, searching in a spiral pattern so as not to miss anything. The horrible stench of burning wires encased the area like a thick and deep smog, and the plumes of smoke emitted from the burning fuel cells didn't help that situation either. At this rate it would only be a few more minutes before he would be unable to breathe. Debris, although mainly within the immediate vicinity, was everywhere; the explosion had sent it flying.

Most of the debris was metal panels warped and blackened by flames, strange glass circlets- hazy from smoke, heaps of clear wires with fire reflective within them, and what appeared to be objects made of crystal. Still having found no living things, or even traces of living things, Skye starts to slow in his efforts as the center of the mass draws nearer. Eventually he stops and scans the burning wreckage again, knowing someone had to have been controlling the craft. Something shifts nearby and a mechanical object pops, sparks flying about, forcing Skye to backpedal. He stumbles over a set of metal beams, still determined to find someone, his mind telling him they were still out there.

Suddenly, as faint as a pin drop, a weak voice cries out, “ On aider-” The words he could not understand but the message was pristine. They needed help. Afraid they will not speak again, he rushes out to where the sound emanated and begins shoving metal beams and warped panels away, desperate to see the actual being trapped within. Many of the heavy beams fall against his back and shoulders as he tries to remove them, they slow him only momentarily, but clearly leave their painful marks. The voice, a female as he notes, calls up at him frantically once she realizes someone is there, “Qui est-ce?! Aider moi- sil vous plait!” Her voice was still muted through the layers of debris concealing her, but he could easily tell she was scared, confused, and frantic- she even began banging her fist on something above her in her haste.

Skye, hoists up a large metallic panel that was covered in screens that somehow managed to still flicker. The edges had begun melting and it burns his palms as he tries hurriedly to move it, hissing and gritting his teeth from the pain as he does so. He drops it nearby, unable to bear touching it again, and looks back at the heap still remaining there; he'd had no idea how deep it went. There were two more control panels like the first before he was finally rewarded. Through a gap in the beams about two feet wide he could make out a young woman's form pinned on her side by a giant metal rod across her leg- she was trying to force it off with her free limbs, crying as she did so.

Shoving the gap wider Skye leans down trough it and seizes the rod, trying to lift it enough for her to move herself; she writhes to get free, sobbing and wailing as the metal rips at her skin. Skye leans against the edge of the small space for a few moments, contemplating what would get her out. Finally he crawls down into the claustrophobic area with her, staring for a moment at her strange sunset-pink hair and ruby red eyes. Determined to get her out of this he braces his feet on another beam near her head, placing his hands on the middle of the one crushing her leg, and pushes, with all his might, against it. The beam moves ever-so-slightly, but it was just enough for the pink-haired girl to jerk her leg free.

Before she can flail about again he lifts her carefully, in the most painless way possible, into his arms and climbs slowly from the pocket of debris, trying to keep her from taking any further injury. Once free from her place of entrapment, still held in his arms, she gazes up at him with her firey, pain-stricken eyes. Her body remains perfectly limp now as blood pours from the gaping wound in her leg, along with other less consequential lacerations. Skye was running with her desperate to get her somewhere she could be cared for- she barely noticed the motion. She noted a swirl of black trees around her as the world began to fade into darkness. A feeling of giddiness passed through her and she giggled dazedly at her inability to think clearly as she finally left the conscious world. About then was the moment Skye began to worry.

His run became a sprint, a race to get away from the fumes and find some form of shelter. The clothing he wore was meant for the icy weather the skies spewed forth, but the woman could easily freeze to death within minutes in these mountains- all she had to wear was a sheer pink gown (if you could even call it a gown- it was more of a mini-dress if anything). It was even possible she could bleed to death if the ice didn't get to her first; either way the options were limited.

After a few more frenzied minutes of searching, the elven man finds a shallow cave he had passed earlier in the day and quickly alters it to fit his purpose. He leaves the pink-haired woman just inside the entrance, with his large cloak wrapped around her, before heading back out into the trees to gather anything that could be used in making a fire. His actions are rushed, he knows the girl's life depends entirely upon him now, and he had to hurry. Gathering just enough wood and weeds to start and maintain a fire he comes staggering back, dropping to his knees as he begins his work of getting a flame to form. If the fumes about the wreck had been lessened, he could easily have started a flame from there, but he knew if he went back now he would suffocate and die.

Striking the steel plating on the back of his wrists together he makes a first attempt. Of the few sparks he gets from this effort none are strong enough to start more than a small puff of smoke in the dry grasses before him. Cursing under his breath, he tries this twice more before digging through his pockets, and those of his coat, for something more useful- all the while he thinks of how much blood the girl must be losing. Finding, at last, the object of his hopes he sighs in temporary relief.

It was a small metallic object, similar in concept to that of a common lighter, yet completely different in design and logic. Skye opens the tiny box carefully, sheltering it as best he can with his hands; inside was a small orb, and contained within that orb was an unearthly blue flame. Leaning closer to the dried weeds, Skye blows softly against the orb causing little, pale-blue spirals to shoot forth. The exact moment these wisps grace the grass a brilliant white flash surrounds them, and a flame twirls into existence. He slaps the small box closed and ties it shut, everyone who owned one feared it would fall open, and often latched it three or four times what it actually needed.

Now in possession of a flame Skye carefully arrays the wood so it will catch fire and remain going long enough for him to care for the girl's wounds. It was not yet needed for the complete provision of warmth, he only needed it's light. Growling to himself about the unethical design of woman's clothing, he shifts the gauzy material around to fully see the damage done to her leg. It wasn't as deep as he first thought, and this is to his relief, but it still needed immediate attention. Grasping at the random objects on his belt he reveals a well hidden canteen- he hoped his body heat had been enough to keep it from freezing, otherwise he would have to melt it. Examining the gash again he contemplates if a wrapping would really be enough.

Ignoring the rising panic in the back of his mind, mostly memories of Ellora's death, he tears part of her dress's hem away and rips it into three pieces. With the first he soaks it in water from the canteen, and then uses it to clean the wound as best he can. The second is folded and pressed roughly against the expanse of the worst part of the gash, beneath this he places a small flowery leaf of a grayish-blue color. Lastly, he wraps as much of the injured area as possible with the third, and longest piece. With the main injury cared for he picks out a few of the other scars and scrapes she has and addresses them as well. He hopes his minimal efforts would be enough to keep her living throughout the night.

A quick glance at the fire tells him he needs to hurry and find more than just dead weeds to burn, unless of course he wanted them both to freeze to death. Stuffing his canteen back into the hidden pocket of his over-shirt, he stalks into the midnight of the forest for larger branches to add to the fire.

Somehow he was sure the nobles had already heard of the, “crash,” and were heading out to find out what had happened- and if their beasts happened across his scent on the wind... The thought is ignored after this, and he carefully picks out the driest branches he can find in the immediate area. After he returns, and begins to slowly add the thick branches to the fire, his attention passes back to the pink-haired girl. Immediately he knows, he will not sleep, not tonight, and not for many, many days after.

Author's Note

I know this chapter is a bit long, but I couldn't decide where to split the bloody thing up. Comments are always appreciated. And I realize his name is Skye "Loire", but when phantasmagoria is complete it will make much more sense. ^_^ Belcrest! (forgive me if I forgot some spacing between paragraphs as well!)