Symbolism! because I think I'm a Good Writer TM

ayayayayay guess who's updating! and just in time too, because i'm doing nanowrimo so ya'll won't be seeing me for a while whoops :P jkjk I'll see if I can't at least start something while i'm rushing around to hit 50k on my independent stuff.

and don't ask me why The Beast likes cheese he just does ok.

Ok. So apparently he needed 'human sustenance' now. Great.

He'd listened through the door for a while, the girl snapped and The Woodsman spoke in steady, tired tones and then there'd been a good amount of relative silence. He'd inspected the room for a few aimless minutes, glared at the fire that was finally beginning to burn down, and watched the snow fall outside of the window until it was too dark to see much of anything but his own reflection in the glass. By that time the noise had returned, heavy boots tramping about, double checking windows and doors against the storm, and a lighter patter following the boots about, tidying and triple-checking. At some point, the heavy boots paused outside of his door, but the handle didn't turn and the old man continued on. Then goodnights were exchanged, and both pairs of feet and voices trudged up the staircase.

With nothing else to do, The Beast had gradually become aware of a gnawing emptiness in his stomach, and it had only gotten worse as the night dragged on. The fire had burnt down to it's last coals, and the room was cooling. The Beast paced. The feeling in stomach got worse. He paused before the door, hand hovering over the handle. He growled; they were asleep, and even should they be awake, they should be no concern of his!

The door swung open, and The Beast stepped out into the hallway. It was dark, pitch black, actually, but that didn't mean anything when your eyes were practically headlights. He peered about, curious despite himself, and found himself in a small corridor. Looking down to his left, the light from his eyes fell upon another dark door, but he wasn't interested in that. The steps were in front of him, going off and up to the left up into the dark recesses of the house. The kitchen, he knew, was beyond the steps, and so he continued on. At first he'd cringed as certain boards creaked under his weight, but reminding himself of his position as The Beast, and when he could hear no movement from up above, he stopped worrying about it. Past the front of the stairs, he could make out two other rooms, he could see a little wooden table and a china cabinet through a doorway, but a something flashed from the light of his eyes and he paused to inspect it. It was the bolt to the front door, and he realized suddenly that it was unlocked, and not even completely closed; he could hear the wind from the storm. He'd heard The Woodsman check that, earlier, before the hunger had set in completely. He debated for a moment, before deciding he was much to curious and far to un-afraid to ignore something like this.

The door opened. Still holding the handle, the beast stepped out onto the porch. It was still very dark; the moon apparently wasn't shining tonight. The wood was cold beneath his feet, but it wasn't uncomfortably so. He was watching the way the light bounced off the banister to his left when the girl surprised him.

She looked angry, but not quite as volatile as before, so he didn't step back. "What are you doing out here?"

He didn't answer.

He was almost a head taller than her but her suspicious glare wasn't any less effective. "Aren't you cold?"

"No."

That shut her up. It occurred to him, though, that even though he wasn't, she must be. She was hunched under several blankets and an assortment of shawls, and she was shivering.

"Were you...leaving?" She ventured.

"No." He really hadn't even thought about it. Now that she said it, though, he didn't see why he shouldn't. And then his stomach decided to remind him why he'd been out of the room in the first place. Loudly.

The girl looked at him in mild surprise for a moment, and he stared dumbly back. She crossed her arms and smirked at him. He glared at her, but she only shifted her stance, as if to sass him further.

"Hungry, huh?"

"Maybe." He answered a little too quickly, and her eyes narrowed.

"Huh." She looked at him for a moment, and he stared back, displeased and a bit more than slightly unsettled at her sudden change in attitude.

She nodded resolutely and pushed past him back into the house. He followed. The girl waited until he was inside, then shut the door, bolting it quietly. She motioned for him to follow and led him past the open doorway to a little wooden door a bit beyond that. She opened the door with as little noise possible and slipped inside. Padding after her, he gave the little room a quick look-over, a crude little table with a chair sat off to the side, out of the way of a crowded but clean-looking kitchen space. He returned his attention to the girl, who was squinting up at him again in thought.

"No," she muttered after a moment, and began to rummage through the cabinets for something.

"What?" The Beast tilted his head, confused.

"Well," she explained, as she triumphantly snatched a box of matches from the cabinet, "I was thinking about using your eyes as lights, but I figured it'd be better just to use a candle." She lit one and used it to light several others placed about the little room before putting it back on the table where she'd gotten it. She turned to The Beast and pointed at the chair. "Sit."

The Beast sat. The girl dropped a rectangular thing onto the table in front of him, and he inspected it curiously.

"It's bread." She supplied helpfully. He grunted. She stuck a roll of soft cheese on the table, and stuck a knife into the center of it. Eleanor grabbed the slice of bread out of his hands and waved it in front of his face. "Bread," she repeated. She picked up the knife. "We put the cheese," she swiped a corner of the cheese, "onto the bread." She spread the cheese over the bread and gave him a close-lipped smile. The Beast suddenly got the feeling he was being treated like an idiot. She held out the piece of bread. The Beast looked at her, then looked at the bread. He took it.

Well it wasn't terrible, but without any real comparison point The Beast couldn't really tell. But the texture wasn't unpleasant, and the gnawing in his stomach was slowly fading. He was about halfway through his third bite when he realized the girl hadn't moved. She was just standing there, staring at him. Well, it was more like glaring, but the point was she hadn't moved. He stopped chewing and glared back at her.

"What."

Her upper lip curled into an ugly sneer. He swallowed and frowned, his mouth mirroring hers. The candle flickered as it burned down lower. Neither moved.

"Eleanor, you should be in bed." The Woodsman peered into the kitchen blearily, carrying a little candle of his own. She didn't even blink.

"Couldn't sleep, father." There was silence from all three for a moment before she added reluctantly, "And he got hungry."

The Woodsman stood there for a moment, sleepy mind taking longer than normal to register the bread in The Beast's hand and the cheese on the table, and then he nodded and turned to go back upstairs with a muffled "try not to kill each other" thrown over his shoulder. The two stayed in their positions until they both heard the soft click of the master bedroom's door.

She moved first, shifting from one foot to the next, blinking and looking away, sneer dropping to more of a worried frown. The Beast leaned back in the chair. Eleanor, that was her name and he felt he should use it, was steadying her breathing. He hadn't noticed she'd ever been breathing erratically in the first place. She glanced at him again. There was something in her eyes; it wasn't quite fear, he knew fear and this was like it but it wasn't exactly like it, this was more desperate and irrational, like if he'd asked her what had set her off she wouldn't have been able to provide an answer. He dropped his gaze.

"I hate you."

The Beast blinked. Lots of people must, he knew that, but no one had ever said that too his face before. He should be angry. He wasn't. Eleanor situated herself in the far corner of the room, drawing her knees up to her chest under her nest of blankets. The Beast blinked again. She was ignoring him, so The Beast went back to eating the remainder of the bread. They stayed like that for a while. The Beast gradually finished off the bread and started discreetly eating the cheese straight, and at some point he realized Eleanor was trying very hard not to doze off. The sky outside was getting lighter. The room began to brighten from natural sunlight through the window above the sink and the small back door he hadn't noticed off to the left of the fireplace. He stayed in the little wooden chair, watching the room grow gradually brighter even as the candle burned out. He could feel Eleanor watching him despite being half-asleep and he could hear The Woodsman upstairs tromping about, probably preparing for the day ahead, but he didn't feel that tired and he didn't feel like going back to the other room so he sat at the table and licked more cheese off the tip of the knife and watched the shadows shift as the light chased them off.

The Beast couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun.

That said, I know I just pulled two Beast chapters in a row, so uh, I suppose I should start this now. I know the next chapter will be Eleanor's POV, but after that I think I'll start letting ya'll vote on the POV? I'll have to throw in Beast chapters every so often regardless, so that ya'll can see [SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS] start to happen, and i'll have to have executive decision because i need plot things to happen but ? anyway I wanna keep everything within the Woodsman's family for now, but the other characters'll show up at some point I promise. Just...lets make sure The Beast is acclimated. And that he'll be in good enough shape to get the heck outta dodge when Beatrice realizes who he is. Poor dude thought being beat by Eleanor was bad hahaha good luck with that buddy