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Post by Deleted on Jun 15, 2013 12:13:11 GMT -5
Belle loved Paris. She had loved it before the events that lead to the creation of the Ruby Kingdom of the Rose, and now, as a denizen of Rohandor, she loved Paristown. Growing up, it was no secret that Belle was fond of books. And though tomes of fantastical fiction might have been the maiden's preference, that didn't mean that they were what she read exclusively. Paris was a city filled with history, and more often than not the tales that made up that history were as dramatic, inspirational, sometimes tragic as any story compromised of a charming prince.
Sadly, Belle had only ever been to Paris once before arriving in Rohandor. Her father was introducing his invention at a particular fair located in the city, and Belle had come along to see the sights and assist him. Coincidentally that fair had been on the same day as the legendary Festival of Fools, and the entire visit had only sparked the young woman's desire for adventure more. Of course, her father's invention had gone terribly awry during his demonstration, and they had been forced to leave Paris as soon as possible, back to their poor, provincial town several days' journey away from the grand city.
With the controversy and tragedy that she learned struck soon afterwards, Belle was thankful that supposed misfortune had more probably saved her and her father. Even so, Maurice had blamed the mishap on himself, and - whether for his daughter's safety, or not wishing to appear a failure in front of her ever again - he had insisted from then on that any distant fair or event he traveled to, it would be he and Phillipe alone. Belle had pined at the missed opportunity to visit Paris's greatest sight: the cathedral of Notre Dame.
Only weeks later, once Maurice had fixed the problem he'd run into in Paris, he went off to another fair, but through misfortune ended up a prisoner in a cursed castle. The rest, naturally, is history.
In Rohandor, Adam and Belle had found themselves governing an isle that mimicked their native France. Even more so when, some time after their appearing in the realm, Quasimodo's exploits landed Paris itself there as well. Since then, Belle had visited Paristown often. Notre Dame, more specifically. Still, she never tired of the sights. Adam and her castle was gorgeous, but there was something about the rich history in every cobble of the streets, every fractured chunk of stained glass, that spoke to Belle.
This day in particular, Belle could have hoped for better circumstances. Firstly, Adam was supposed to accompany her, as per usual. A courier had appeared at the castle that morning, when they were to set off, speaking of a bizarre multiplication of the wolves in the wilderness, as well as unnaturally brazen behavior on their part. Adam had felt that his duty as prince meant he needed to investigate with the guard. Belle had tried to convince him that she could wait - that they, together, could go to Paristown some other time.
Adam would have none of it. Which gave justification to Belle's solidarity. Then there was the weather. Rather than the picturesque atmospheric conditions, the skies were overcast, gray and sedate. Thunder prickled across the edge of Paristown with the threat of rain. Belle had left her carriage behind some ways back. Rohandor was doing well, but that did not mean that evil didn't still exist. Crime was especially concentrated in cities such as Paris-, London- and NewYorktown. Besides, the labyrinthine network of slim side streets in Paristown's heart made carriages hard to maneuver.
The same reasoning behind the choice to go on foot would explain Belle's casual dress. She wore the same periwinkle peasant dress that she had frequented before meeting Adam, complete with off white apron. Forethought on her, and Madame de la Grande Bouche's part meant that atop the gown, Belle wore an oiled cloak that would repel the rain, if it decided to fall. The only element speaking of the woman's possible wealth was the brooch with which the cloak was fastened about her neck, depicting a half-opened rose of silver, given color by faint burgundy flecks in the petals, and jade in the two leaves framing them.
Belle was nearly grateful for the displeasing weather, because it meant that there was little foot traffic, and those who were present rushed between tasks. A journey that would have taken an hour or so on foot on required a fraction of that, and Belle soon came to a stop at the square before the imperious edifices of Notre Dame herself. Belle drew back the hood of her cloak and turned her chin upward. Every time, she was stricken by awe at seeing the work of architectural genius.
As if on cue, the moment Belle's gaze lighted upon the twin bell towers, a clap of thunder shook the panes of the shops about her, and with a soft sigh a steady rain began to fall. The princess drew her hood again and, hunched over slightly to avoid getting wet, crossed the square, mounted the stairs of the cathedral, and slipped in the front door of Notre Dame as someone else was leaving.