'this is the night' {griffin + belle}

[anabelle thompson]

Anabelle Jane Thompson

[/color]
Look there she goes that girl is strange, no question.
Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?[/center]

Wearing a pink bikini top and a pair of low-cut shorts, Belle began to walk down the beach, admiring how beautiful the water is when an early evening sun begins to set on it. Of course, she wasn’t empty handed. Her trusty old Kodak camera was grasped tightly by the strap and hung from her left wrist. Today had been a good day for picture taking. You know the ones where it’s almost eighty degrees outside but there isn’t a trace of humidity? Well, that’s how it was this early spring day and Belle was just itching to get outside and take some ‘A’ quality photographs for her class. Her professor had assigned a big assignment, worth almost two hundred points. He said that since it was springtime, and Wake Island was beginning to unfold from it’s long, winter slumber, there were plenty of picture perfect moments blooming. Belle hated all the stupid puns her professor used, and not to mention all of his tacky jokes that reminded her of her dear father.

Now, feeling the warm, yet cool grainy sand ooze in between her toes, Belle couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of belonging here. The long, ocean waved had reminded her of the rolling plains of Kansas, her old hometown. Ah, Kansas; the place where her father’s soul rested and where she had learned to ride a bike. If Belle could have anything in the world, it would be to go back to her old, white farmhouse and see her father’s grave. Anabelle had despised her mother for so long for making her move away. But then she wasn’t looking at the flip side. If she has never moved away from Kansas, she would have never had the opportunity to go to Wonderland Academy. And wouldn’t that be a shame?

Belle took the black camera and held it up to her eye. Her pale index finger lightly touched the button that triggered it to take a picture. Blends of reds and oranges mixed with blues filled the screen. With an approving smile, she turned off the device and began to walk again. A slight breeze began to blow and Belle cursed herself for not bringing a light jacket along. “Ah, well,” she shrugged her shoulders. Maybe next time she would remember.

( tagged ) ‘ Griffin Rousseau
( word count ) ‘ 380 +
( notes/other ) ‘ Uh, I‘m not sure how they‘ll meet, but perhaps think of something unique? xD

[/blockquote]

[griffin rousseau]

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
But what is not.

Griffin is not, by any means, a beach person. That was obvious by his attire on such a warm and lovely spring day. Indeed, if you looked at Griffin you might assume that it wasn't warm or lovely at all, but cold and dreary. He was wearing a black blazer, one of his only remaining treasures from his "past" life, over a gray hooded sweatshirt. And if that wasn't enough, he was wearing jeans and sneakers as well. Doesn't exactly scream fun in the sun, now does it? So then why was he here? Well, even he probably couldn't tell you, if you even dared to ask. The beach was just another place he could hide. Most people were up above him, on the pier, buying cotton candy or hot dogs or milkshakes. Below, on the sand, things were much quieter. The waves and the gulls were the only sounds, and they soothed his temper slightly, so that maybe he might work in peace. For that’s what he was doing: working.

Earlier that week Griffin's acting teacher had given an assignment that was proving quite difficult to overcome. Each student had to memorize a monologue from one of Shakespeare's plays. Griffin was stuck with Macbeth, and on top of that, he had to do the Act II Scene One monologue, you know the one where Macbeth starts hallucinating daggers, right before he kills Duncan. Now, to act out the actual murder would be quite easy for Griffin. But all this weird, eloquent poetry was beyond him. But, duty calls, and despite thinking it to be a real drag, here he was, out on the beach, sweltering in the heat and trying the best he could to remember just the first line without looking at his sheet.

"Go bid thy mistress, when my... when my..." He looked down, scowling, then started back up again with a flourish. "Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready... Argh!" He let out a half-yell, half-roar and threw his sheet down. Immediately afterward he bent down and retrieved it, fearing that the wind would steal it away. He didn't say anything else, just stood there, looking murderous and clenching his fists, the white paper crumpling slightly as he did so. He wasn’t quite sure how to continue; he was starting to get angry with himself, something which rarely happened. Besides that, he could see a girl moving down the beach in his direction, which heightened his frustration. He glared at her as she stopped to take a picture, believing that there wasn’t really much to see: just a bunch of polluted air and water. Feeling slightly better now that his anger was directed towards someone else, Griffin took a deep breath and continued.

“Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,/She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.” He paused for the imaginary servant to leave the room. “Do I see a dagger… Is this a dagger…” He faltered again, noticing that the girl was beginning to move on. "Is this a dagger before…” He let out another yell. “Don’t you have anywhere better to be? Or are you just going to stand there taking up space?” He yelled, directing it to the girl, who was now quite close.

`word count 547
`notes tried to make it interesting, hah.

[anabelle thompson]

Anabelle Jane Thompson

[/color]
Look there she goes that girl is strange, no question.
Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?[/center]

A low growl tumbled through the air and entered Belle's ears. Prickly tingles seemed to run down her spine and make her shudder. She hadn't been aware that someone was with her, at least, down on the ground level of the beautiful sea. Almost everyone was up above, on the pier. There were crowds buying hot dogs and ice cream cones and lovers making out on the public benches. That was one reason Belle seemed to stay away from 'up there'. Belle lowered her gaze from the busy walkways of the pier and into the direction of where the startling voice had came. Meeting her blue eyes was that of a, uh, somewhat unpleasant looking human.

The young male's blonde hair was ruffled up and looked to be almost like that of a thick, lion's mane. Belle could almost tell a picture from the way his angered eyes met her's. He was obviously in a horrid mood and she got the feeling that her being there, on the beach with him, wasn't going to make it any better.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before opening her pale lips to the man. "I think I'll stand here and take up space," she uttered with a smile. And continuing on with her facade, Anabelle crossed her legs and sat down on the cooling sand, facing the human. "But I think the real question is, don't you have anywhere else to be? I, as it happens to be, was here first. But I wouldn't mind sharing this little peace of heaven with you." A satisfied smile began to tug at the corner of her rosy lips.

Belle's gaze traced the silhoutte of the man's against the quickly setting sun. He was an average height, but his hair gave him a few inches more. His build was strong, and yet his outward appearance gave Belle the hint that he had been through a lot, much like herself. "So, whatta you say?" She asked, breaking the silence between them.


( words ) ' 358
(notes ) ' Very good job capturing the 'beast' in him! XD

[griffin rousseau]

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
But what is not.

"I think I'll stand here and take up space..."

Ugh. Just as Griffin presumed. In a fleeting moment of insanity he thought of walking away: just leaving, without saying another word. He could never do that though, and besides, all that was pushed unceremoniously from his mind as the girl continued on talking. Wow. She was just not getting the picture, huh? "You have no idea who was here first. You didn't even notice I was here until I spoke." He said this rather fast, his face flushing red with anger, and sounding a little too comical, though Griffin wouldn't realize that. "Besides," He went on, calmer this time, self-importance impregnating every word he spoke. "There is no way to measure time. I am here in this moment, I have been here in this moment forever, and I will be here in this moment for the rest of eternity." Thinking he sounded very philosophical and well-to-do, he grinned satisfactorily and looked back down at his lines. The white paper glared up at him and he read the same word about five times over before looking back at the girl, who was now sitting down below him. "And whatever I say, I certainly wouldn't call this heaven." He added, nodding once very matter-of-factly.

Griffin didn't like the fact that she was sitting down. In effect, she was making herself comfortable, which was definitely not an ideal situation. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate on getting this done with her staring at him like that? He kept glancing from her back to his sheet, though very incognito, trying to hide the fact that she was distracting him. In a last attempt to ignore the girl, he started up his monologue again. "“Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,/She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed./Is this a dagger I see before me?" He paused, turning red at the sound of his voice speaking such ridiculous words. He couldn't believe people actually did this for a living, in front of not just one person, but many people. He tried to continue. "Is this a dagger I see before me,/The handle toward my hand?" He put up his hand, miming a hallucination, but the act itself was all too embarrassing. He flung himself down into the sand.

Looking at the girl again, Griffin laughed coldly. "Enjoying yourself, are you? It's amusing isn't it, my failure. I see your purpose now. You've come to have a few laughs, have you?" He himself laughed again, clenching his fist so tight that the paper, still held in his hand, twisted and crumpled helplessly. He pounded the sand beside him with the other hand, drawing his knees up towards his chest and bowing his head. Hell, let her stay. Let her have her fun. He would've done the same, once, to some poor, struggling sap. He supposed it was some sort of punishment, but God did it pierce his soul, to be alone and worthless.


`word count 503
`notes thanks. :]

[anabelle thompson]

Anabelle Jane Thompson

[/color]
Look there she goes that girl is strange, no question.
Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?[/center]

“And whatever I say, I certainly wouldn’t call this heaven.”

Belle’s content expression that was so seemingly plastered to her face not but a few moments ago began to unfold and change. And like a rose so beauteous instants before, her grin turned into a frown. And not just any frown. A frown the scrunched her forehead into tiny wrinkles so she looked absolutely cross with anyone who dared to look at her.

“I beg to differ.” Naturally, Belle always had to prove she was correct. “It’s beautiful out here. Can’t you see that?” Her appearance was soft and delicate, and very patient. She glanced up to the male and met his eyes. “Obviously a beast like you couldn’t.”

Never letting her gaze off him, Belle began to uncross her legs so she could stand up. The sand was grainy against her hands and left little imprints on them. By now, the sun had set almost fully and the lampposts on the pier were fully lit. They sent bright, yellow beams of light across the darkened night. Just as she was about to turn her back on him, his roaring voice entered the air, toppling itself over the crashing of the waves on the lagoons close by.

“Enjoying yourself, are you? It's amusing isn't it, my failure. I see your purpose now. You've come to have a few laughs, have you?"

Anabelle’s better judgement would have been to be just turn her back and march herself straight up to the paved parking lot, where her yellow SmartCar stood stationary. But that wasn’t her first impulse, which would probably turn out to nip her in the butt later. “Amusing? Hardly!” She began to laugh through her upturned mouth. “Macbeth isn’t something that I would consider to be a source of enjoyment. And neither do I find your failure, er, I mean, struggles funny. Nonetheless, if you’re going to be cruel and impolite to me, I’ll just be on my way.” Her face was full of determination and weariness. Although she tried her best not to let it show outwardly.

[griffin rousseau]

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
But what is not.

“Obviously a beast like you couldn’t.”

At her words, Griffin laughed. It wasn't like his old laugh, cold and mean, but it wasn't warm and joyous either. It was hard sounding and distant. His face had also turned distant as he stared out across the water, his eyes slightly unfocused, and looking altogether grim. A changed seem to come over him as the darkness of night became steadily more complete. He looked sad, and maybe a little lost. "No. No, I can't see the beauty." He murmered quietly, not turning towards her. The statement didn't sound challenging, it sounded frightened. At one point in his life, Griffin might have found something beautiful in a beach sunset on a spring night. Had he lost so much that he could find no beauty anywhere? He looked back up at her, then bowed his head again.

There was little doubt that Griffin was lost. No one should be as lonely as he was. Not that he could be absolved from all blame. He deseved this, didn't he? This absolute isolation? The anger, the fear, the outcast status? Certainly he deserved something, and as Griffin dwelt on this fact, he could hear the girl speaking, as if out of a dream. "...Nonetheless, if you’re going to be cruel and impolite to me, I’ll just be on my way.” He sighed, knowing what he must do, and yet still finding it incredibly difficult to muser up the words...

"No, don't leave. I'm... I... uh, I apologize." Something he hadn't done in a while, and which turned his face and neck a brilliant scarlet color. Luckily, the sun had now completely set, throwing everything into shadow. The pier seemed miles away; distant voices floated down from it as if they were the voices of the dead. Griffin shivered, despite his attire. "You're... right." Another rare phrase escaped his lips. "Macbeth isn't very enjoyable. And neither is my... is my attitude." Griffin rose, approaching the unnnamed girl, brushing sand from his pants as he went. "Again, I'm sorry for my discourtesies. I would do well to... remember them next time." He looked absolutely pathetic. Humility wasn't a trait that suited him very well at all. He was trying, though, and that was something. Still, some sort of frustration and anger lingered inside him: the paper was still crumpled in his resolute fist, which was not going to yield to anything anytime soon.

Griffin had a strong personality, and he did not like showing any weaknesses. It irked him to be polite, to back down from a challenge, and he wasn't quite sure why he was doing so now. As a rule, he never really fought girls, but that wouldn't usually stop him from setting her in her "proper" place. Something deep, deep down inside of him longed for human companionship, something he had yearned for his entire life. Even back when he was wealthy Griffin tried to collect as many friends as possible, though never feeling quite fulfilled. He knew they weren't really his friends, which was proved to him when they abandoned him after the great fall from grace. So now he was reaching out the only way he could: apologizing to a girl on a beach. Though, of course, he didn't fully understand any of it.

`word count 574

[anabelle thompson]

Anabelle Jane Thompson

[/color]
Look there she goes that girl is strange, no question.
Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?[/center]

"No, don't leave. I'm... I... uh, I apologize. You're... right."
The unexpected phrase was both a relief and a shock, though a quite pleasant one. Belle, if you would have asked her at that very moment, couldn't even begin to explain what caused the sudden change in the unknown male's demeanor. Even from what she could gather in this darkened atmosphere seemed soft and not so rough anymore. Then, his voice rang out into the quiet ambiance. "Again, I'm sorry for my discourtesies. I would do well to... remember them next time."

"Yes, it would be wise to remember them next time. I mean, not that there will be a next time." She added, trying to add some slyness to her words. Belle felt her heavy head bow to the man; even though it made her feel as if he was her "master", which was completely not how she felt inside. Although she did feel her heartstings begin to play a lovely, classical melody inside. She was greatful that the darkness hid her from the male. Otherwise he might have seen her cheeks begin to turn into a translucent rosey colour.

"So, I suppose that you're through with your unpleasant attitude?" Belle raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. "If your answer if yes, then, please let me introduce myself." She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes before holding out one of her pale hands. "I'm Belle."

And as quickly as her name had been spoken, Belle had wanted to retract it from the air, before it reached her masked stranger's ears. Why would she have even dared to tell her name to a complete stranger, especially one who about ten minutes ago she had been arguing with. What if he was this...criminal that preyed upon young, innocent college girls? What if he was just one of those creeps that you hear about all the time, plastered over the six 'o clock evening news? Belle hoped with all her heart that he was normal. Not just for the sake of her life, but for the sake of her heart.

Oddly enough, she found that the saying 'opposites attract' was becoming true. Sure, the over-used cliche her mother used at least once a day was something Belle doubted. But now, upon meeting this grouchy, and yet pleasant character, her heart began to differ with her mind.

( word count ) ` 434
( notes ) ` Uh, cheesy, I know; but it works! =]

[/blockquote]

[griffin rousseau]

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
But what is not.

Griffin's mind was positively swimming. First, he was not used to being nice. Indeed, it was quite a struggle. Every moment a new insult raced through his mind, designed specifically to increase the distance between himself and the rest of the human race. Second, it had been days since he had a real conversation with someone, and then it was only with the school psychologist, and he just made a bunch of stuff up to prevent being labled as insane. He was not exactly sure how to act around other people; he couldn't remember. It seemed that his last little bit had redeemed him slightly in the girl's eyes. 'Typical, soft girl.' He thought, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Oh yes, Griffin wasn't a changed man yet. It wasn't going to happen overnight. Still, if he could just hold it in, maybe it would be easier to transition.

"So, I suppose that you're through with your unpleasant attitude. If your answer if yes, then, please let me introduce myself."

At this, Griffin smiled mischieviously. His teeth glimmered in the growing darkness, making him look quite frightfully like the Cheshire Cat. But that's the wrong story... "Oh, don't think I'm through just yet." He said, chuckling menacingly, though not unpleasantly. He kept the tone of a person who was joking, though it was clear that something deeper was behind it. "You never quite know when it'll sneak up again." He laughed again, though this time it sounded more cheery. But still, that creepy smile kept its place. Hearing her name though, his smile faltered, until it disappeared entirely. Names were always a tricky thing for Griffin. They made everything personal, and because he never forgot a name, they immediately bound him to the other person, however significant.

For a while, he remained silent. He was thinking over her name. Finally, he spoke. "Griffin." He said, his voice sort of hoarse. "As in the mythical beast." He added, placing extra emphasis on the word beast, the word she had so brazenly insulted him with. And with a flash of anger he realized she had not apologized for it. It could be said that she didn't need to apologize, that he deserved it. Still, Griffin was Griffin, and it made him angry to think of himself, begging for mercy at the feet of this stranger while her sins went unrepented. Obviously, he was exaggerating, but his face went cold as stone all the same. For the moment, however, he didn't say anything.

`word count 450

[anabelle thompson]

Anabelle Jane Thompson

[/color]
Look there she goes that girl is strange, no question.
Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?[/center]

"Oh, don't think I'm through just yet. You never quite know when it'll sneak up again." And with that, a menacingly chuckle rang through the air, sending shivering pins down Belle's already tense spine.

'Greeeeeeaaaatttt,' Belle thought silently to herself. Just when she had thought that his rude, arrogant side was just that-a side, and not his true personality. She focused her gaze elsewhere than his face; from her bare feet, to the so seemingly far away pier, back to the sands squigging in between her toes.

They stood there, in perfect, absolute silence until he began up again. "Griffin. As in the mythical beast." This time, his voice didn't have that sweet, gentleness it had possessed only but a few sentences ago. It had turned to the opposite end-back to rudeness.

Belle didn't feel any more obligation towards to Griffin. Griffin-finally a name to go with that face. Suddenly, with the waves breaking themselves against the craggy rocks behind her, Belle felt it was her turn in the short, sudden conversation to speak. Although tons of insulting remarks raced across her brain, she no longer felt obligation to Griffin, the conversation, or to even stay on the beach.

Abrubtly, she spoke out. "Well," she said fiddling with the camera strap that was securely held with her left hand, "I really should be getting back to my dorm. I have a feeling it's probably getting around to curfew." That was the best she could come up with for an excuse? A curfew? Still, he may be a complete idiot and believe it. "I have enjoyed our conversation, Griffin. I hope our paths cross again, sometime.

[/i] Okay, the first sentence out of her mouth was a complete and utter lie. After being practically yelled at by a complete stranger was not what she would consider a pleasant and inviting conversation. The last sentence, however, was true. She felt a strange and unique calling, if you will, to this equally strange and unique human being. Hopefully, and with a little planning, Belle was sure to meet him again.

( words ) 374
( notes ) Not my best, but it's getting close to bedtime. So, 'night! [/size][/blockquote]

[griffin rousseau]

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
But what is not.

"I really should be getting back to my dorm. I have a feeling it's probably getting around to curfew."

It gave Griffin great satisfaction to hear those words come from Belle. But wait, his glee hesitated. Was he glad that she was feeling nervous, or annoyed, that he had gotten under her skin? Or was it literally the way her voice sounded: indifferent, angry and utterly charming, coming to him from the dark? A light from the pier flickered on, delayed for some reason until now, and falling dramatically in bewteen the two, casting eerie shadows on both their faces. Was his stomach turning in circles because of the heat and the frustration or because he saw her for a moment surrounded by golden, artificial light, making an endearing attempt to avoid all eye contact? In the light of that streetlamp from up above, all Griffin could think of was how amazingly Belle was living up to her name.

But then it was gone. The light flickered, and went out, sending everything into darkness again. Griffin was left completely helpless, shaking his head slightly to try and bring himself back to reality. "Uh, yeah, you should probably go." He said, sounding, of course, rude, though not meaning to this time. He was just bewildered, though it didn't show through the night shadows. "Wouldn't want to be missing curfew." He added, feeling his strength come back each time he spoke. Griffin realized suddenly that he was still holding the Macbeth script, and held it up to his face, looking at it incredulously, as if it wasn't actually there. He shook his head again, and then turned his back on Belle. "Yeah." He said, not really hearing what she had last said, or knowing what he had just agreed to. "Yeah." He repeated the word, and it sounded good against the air that was beginning to cool rapidly. "I should probably get back to..." He held up the paper again. Oh great. He had lost the last rays of the sun to study his lines by. But to his great surprise, he found the lines were stored neatly inside his head, ready to be spoken to the empty beach.

Completely ignoring Belle now, though not forgetting her presence, Griffin started practicing his lines again, assuming that the girl behind him had just... faded into the background.

`word count 398
`notes and scene! i think that was a good first encounter for them. unless you think there's more to be said?