#13: Monstrously Soulless
Jan. 9th, 2017 06:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sweetestjonginTitle: Monstrously Soulless
Pairing(s): Kai/Suho
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2566
Warning(s):Mentions of mild violence, dark themes.
Summary: What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness. – Leo Tolstoy, The Kreutzer Sonata.
Author's Note: This prompt was wonderful in its simplicity, and unfortunately, I was unable to do it proper justice! Currently, this fic is still incomplete. I have more than what I’m submitting, but I couldn’t connect two significant scenes, so this seems more like a prologue. Mountains surrounded me... in an almost literal way! However, I do plan to finish this soon, so I hope you’ll give it a read! Thanks so much to the wonderful mods for running this fest, as well as for being so patient and understanding!! I might have cried otherwise.
Beauty saw that the Beast,
Though terrible in form,
Perhaps had a kind heart.
- Quote (Sample caption from a fairy tale book.)
The town of Exodus was known for many things; their beautiful scenery, their love for music and dance, and the endless assortments of bakeries and eateries.
The town was bright, and prospered well. Their Elders worked hard for it to be so.
But there upon the hill, overlooking the entire village was the castle; another one of Exodus’ attractions. But what brought royalty far and wide was not the castle itself, but the young Prince. The young Prince was beautiful by far, more so than any princess who has ever crossed the castle’s threshold, and the townspeople were so taken by his beauty, much like all the royals were.
But not all were fooled by his beauty.
They knew it went no further than the surface of his skin.
The servants were cleaning the remains of the Prince’s birthday ball, cut short by the miserable storm outside, when there was a loud knock on the castle doors, the sound reverberating throughout the castle.
The Prince frowned, waving a dismissive hand to the servant making his way to the door. The servant paused, unsure, as he watched the Prince make his way to the heavy castle doors.
He ordered one of the guards to open only the left side of the door.
Before the entrance stood a haggard old woman, her face truly hideous, and twisted in an almost manic way. The Prince’s disgust was obvious to the castle’s servants who had watched him grow, but he was a Prince, and knew better than to offend, his manners grained into him from a young age.
“Good evening,” The Prince began, making the conscious effort not to pull a face, “How may I help you?”
“Good evening, young Prince,” The haggard woman began, voice as rough as gravel, yet barely heard over the storm raging. The Prince knew manners would have him invite her in, but his disgust and pride held him from doing so.
“Dear Prince,” she whispered, pulling her ragged clothing a little tighter across her body, “I have nowhere to go in this storm. Please allow him to stay but one night,” she said as she pulled out a beautiful red rose, “in return for this rose, for it is all I have, and I will be gone again.”
The Prince barked a laugh, as if he had never heard anything more ridiculous, “Surely you must be joking, old woman? A person,” the Prince sneered, “like you, in a castle as grand as this; what would the people think of their Prince?”
The Prince made to close the door himself out of disgust, when the old woman spoke again.
“Dear Prince, I beg you, spare but a bit of kindness, and surely, you shall receive it in return, in a moment where you might need it.” She pleaded, her eyes dark with sadness, and a bit of sympathy.
This infuriated the Prince. How dare she? How could a Prince need kindness? Sympathy? And from an old wench whose face alone was a tragedy. How dare she?
“Leave,” the Prince sneered, eyes slanted in disgust, “I need nothing, much less from the likes of someone like you.”
“Your Majesty,” the old woman said, her voice reverberating throughout the castle and much darker now, “true beauty lies beyond the skin. It would be a sadness to a live a life believing anything else.”
The Prince snorted, in a manner unbefitting a prince, and closed the door on the old woman standing out in the pouring rain.
The servants did not pause in their work; they were not new to the Prince’s ugly heart. This did not make bearing the Prince’s cruelty any easier.
The storm raged on viciously, and the Prince had had barely made his way across the hall, before the castle doors swung open with a terrifying howl.
Terror seemed to spread throughout the hallway, and amongst the screams, a melodic voice rang out.
“Young Prince.”
All the hall’s occupants went silent at the sight before them.
A woman stood in the hall’s threshold, of such beauty, that it seemed as if she commanded even the air around her, the storm outside seemingly frozen, as the lightning raging down from the heavens did not flicker at all.
“Young Prince.” She called again, her voice so enchanting, that it seemed to nearly bring tears to those who heard her.
“Who are you?” The Prince whispered, stunned, his arrogant nature gone as he watched the golden haired beauty walk a few steps further into the hall.
“You,” she started, as she reached for something in her emerald robes, “You refused a beggar, someone of such misfortune, a simple night’s rest?”
As beautiful as she was, the Prince felt a sense of raw fear snaking in his chest. Her beauty was beyond compare, but there was something equally terrifying in her being.
“I—”
“She offered her last to you,” she continued, stroking the tips of the rose gently, “And it was still not enough? For what, is a simple rose, but a simple rose? Beautiful, but the most beautiful things can often times be the most useless.”
“True beauty lies beyond the skin. It would be a sadness to a live a life believing anything else.” She echoed, in a gravelly voice, and the Prince—
She sighed, her golden hair floating in gentle waves down her shoulders, and it seemed as though the room sighed with her.
“You—you can’t be her.” He whispered, fear evident in the way he shook.
“Young Prince, there is no kindness in your heart. Your soul is empty, and I wonder if that means you do not possess one. Now pray tell, young Prince, shall I make you as hideous as that heart of yours?”
The Prince pleaded for forgiveness, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.
No one knows what happened on this unusually stormy night, only that no one was seen from the castle again, not even their Prince. Darkness settled over what used to be one of the most beautiful parts of their town, but was now instead a constant nightmare. Very few ventured into the castle and when they were never seen again, no one went anywhere near it again.
Once upon a time, in a time so long ago, where these unbelievable stories were much more than unbelievable stories, there was a prince.
He was unkind and cruel, and that was the start and end of it all.
There would only be darkness now.
“Jongin, no.”
Jongin shrugged the hand pulling at his shoulder.
But his brother was not giving up.
“Jongin! This is ridiculous! Did you really think I would let you take my place?”
Jongin glared as he turned to his brother, “Did you really think that I would let you accept this?”
Their parents were distraught when news came that Taemin would be given to the Beast. And Jongin—Jongin was furious.
There is so much wrong in this, so much wrong with this town, and with that beast. He wishes hating his parents for not wanting to leave this godforsaken town was enough, but that would not help anyone. Especially not his little brother.
Why his brother of all people? His brother was kind, but he had his selfish tendencies. Surely the monster would not want that? The Beast might want someone meek and docile; that was not his brother. Surely he can be allowed to appeal to the Elders?
But beyond such flimsy reasoning, what would he have to offer? What trade could he make to save his brother? His family has nothing.
But he—he had everything the Beast wanted. He had beauty, he knew, from the many people who tried courting him. And he was far kinder than his brother, for he was known for it. And he was pure.
His brother was wild, and careless, and even the Elders could see the danger of offending the damned Beast. But not Jongin; he was the opposite of his brother, he was quiet and careful.
He had what the Beast wanted.
“This is ridiculous!” Taemin exclaimed, matching his brother’s glare, his hands fisted at his sides. “You cannot stop this. It is the Elders’ decision.”
“I do not care.” Jongin muttered, turning to go to the Town’s Court, where the Elders’ give their rulings.
“Jongin, stop this! My—this sacrifice is for the people; to keep them safe from that monster. You know this. If I was chosen, then there is reason for it.” Taemin glared, his hands clenched into fists on his brother’s tunic.
Jongin hesitated long enough for Taemin to push further.
“This will save the people, Jongin. Our parents, our friends; we cannot be selfish. You know this, brother.” Taemin whispered, eyes earnest as he stared into his brother’s.
Jongin nodded, his eyes dark, as he lowered his head. He would not look into Taemin’s eyes, not when he was being taken away from him, and not when he could see the fear in them.
Jongin would not pretend to be selfless and brave, for he was not. He feared the Beast as everyone did. But he loved his brother even more than he feared the Beast, and could not bear to lose him. Especially not to a fate as cruel as this.
He clenched his fists as his brother dragged him back home. His brother took him too lightly. He would not accept this; he would still go.
With this terrible darkness came the Beast.
A monster not even seen in dreams; large, he stood as tall as the oldest trees, so twisted and grotesque, and vicious... and cruel. And this Beast had no mercy. All he wanted was what he wanted, and he would take, and no one could stop. For how do you stop a monster?
The town’s Elders had saved their people before, and they were not so blinded by fear that they would ignore the cries and the losses of their people.
So they sought out the Beast.
They knew that there would be losses; the kind that is never forgotten, but—
“The needs of the people outweigh that of a few.” The Leader of the Elder council said, his eyes dark with grief, as he too, had lost to the Beast. His only daughter, gone to what end, he does not know.
“How many are a few?” the Wise Elder asked, his grey eyebrows furrowed, “And how often, Leader? To what end would this continue? Is this really the only way we save our people?”
“We have,” began Selene, the Youngest, “not much else we can do.”
“We could wait it out.” The Wise Elder whispered, his aged hands clenched into fists, “The Beast will soon have the people running from Exodus. That would be for the best.”
The Youngest shook her head, “We would lose too many that way, and some families are too large to afford leaving.”
The Leader sighed, “We have no other choice.”
They sought the Beast. They were determined not flinch under his appearance, under his glare, but the way he walked, the way he spoke, it seemed as if that was what he ultimately wanted, so they cowered. Pride was a dead man’s wish.
“Why wreak havoc,” the Leader whispered, head bowed to the Beast, “when we can reach an understanding, Beast?”
The Beast made a snarling sound, the echo of it grating and ugly, before he stood before the Elder.
“Tell me,” He growled, his eyes so dark that they appeared to be dead, “why I would want that? I take as I please, and no one can stand in my way. Why would we need to reach an understanding, Elder?”
“The people are scared, “Selene whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anger, “and their fear will have them running from this town. And you will have no left to take. That would be your loss.”
The Beast growled again, angrier, but his eyes were even darker now.
Contemplation.
Time seemed to stand still before the Beast turned his sneer to the town Elders.
“And what kind of understanding do you suggest, Elder?”
The Leader glanced amongst the others, before he said, “We will pick one, every ten years, and give that person to you willingly.”
The Beast looked almost surprised, in the way he momentarily went still before he said, “And how will you decide who I would find worthy?”
“We have paid mind to the—people you have taken before. Beautiful, good and—pure. We will send only the most beautiful, and the good, and the pure.” The Wise Elder said, his hands held firmly behind his back.
“And what if I am unsatisfied?” The Beast demanded, “I would have to wait another ten years?”
“No,” Selene replied, “Return who was given, and we shall send another. However, there is only so much we can do if they are unable to do what you expect. We could sacrifice our whole town and it still might not be enough—”
“Quiet!” The Beast growled loudly, his right arm swinging out to hit the old oak standing behind him, smashing it in half, the ground trembling beneath his rage.
A sense of terror settled amongst the council, as the Beast continued to rage on, destroying the trees who have long lived in this forest.
“Who do you think you are?!” The Beast raged on, destroying the surrounding nature, and eventually kicking up a rosebush before he fell quiet, his shoulders tense and heaving.
A silence seemed to take over the forest, haunted as it seemed as though the forest was whispering, several voices mumbling several things, in an almost feverish way.
It was awhile before the Beast spoke again, long enough for him to have seemingly gotten control over his anger, before he growled once again, “Very well. We will do as you say, Elder, but no trickery, or else.”
The loss was still too great for the Elders too feel much relief, but they agreed, as this was what they came for.
“Understood.”
The Elders fought for this loss filled peace, and prayed for a better day. One filled with light, instead of this—darkness.
But only darkness followed.
The people were furious, outraged; how could their trusted Elders do this?
Families ran with their young, and the Elders prayed that the rest would do so, as well. But that did not happen; most stayed, since often their families were too big, and they too poor, and they had built up their entire lives in their little town.
And every ten years, the Beast would send for his sacrifices; a dark and sinister looking carriage, with no wheels and no horse, but instead thin wooden legs, which carried it much like a grotesque spider. It would stand in wait in the middle of the now dark forest, and would not leave until it had received what it had come for. And once it was locked, it could not be opened again.
And years passed much in this way of sacrifices and loss, and the town Elders could no longer comfort their people. A tense quiet had settled over the little town of Exodus, and it could not be lifted.
Pairing(s): Kai/Suho
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2566
Warning(s):
Summary: What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness. – Leo Tolstoy, The Kreutzer Sonata.
Author's Note: This prompt was wonderful in its simplicity, and unfortunately, I was unable to do it proper justice! Currently, this fic is still incomplete. I have more than what I’m submitting, but I couldn’t connect two significant scenes, so this seems more like a prologue. Mountains surrounded me... in an almost literal way! However, I do plan to finish this soon, so I hope you’ll give it a read! Thanks so much to the wonderful mods for running this fest, as well as for being so patient and understanding!! I might have cried otherwise.
Beauty saw that the Beast,
Though terrible in form,
Perhaps had a kind heart.
- Quote (Sample caption from a fairy tale book.)
The town of Exodus was known for many things; their beautiful scenery, their love for music and dance, and the endless assortments of bakeries and eateries.
The town was bright, and prospered well. Their Elders worked hard for it to be so.
But there upon the hill, overlooking the entire village was the castle; another one of Exodus’ attractions. But what brought royalty far and wide was not the castle itself, but the young Prince. The young Prince was beautiful by far, more so than any princess who has ever crossed the castle’s threshold, and the townspeople were so taken by his beauty, much like all the royals were.
But not all were fooled by his beauty.
They knew it went no further than the surface of his skin.
The servants were cleaning the remains of the Prince’s birthday ball, cut short by the miserable storm outside, when there was a loud knock on the castle doors, the sound reverberating throughout the castle.
The Prince frowned, waving a dismissive hand to the servant making his way to the door. The servant paused, unsure, as he watched the Prince make his way to the heavy castle doors.
He ordered one of the guards to open only the left side of the door.
Before the entrance stood a haggard old woman, her face truly hideous, and twisted in an almost manic way. The Prince’s disgust was obvious to the castle’s servants who had watched him grow, but he was a Prince, and knew better than to offend, his manners grained into him from a young age.
“Good evening,” The Prince began, making the conscious effort not to pull a face, “How may I help you?”
“Good evening, young Prince,” The haggard woman began, voice as rough as gravel, yet barely heard over the storm raging. The Prince knew manners would have him invite her in, but his disgust and pride held him from doing so.
“Dear Prince,” she whispered, pulling her ragged clothing a little tighter across her body, “I have nowhere to go in this storm. Please allow him to stay but one night,” she said as she pulled out a beautiful red rose, “in return for this rose, for it is all I have, and I will be gone again.”
The Prince barked a laugh, as if he had never heard anything more ridiculous, “Surely you must be joking, old woman? A person,” the Prince sneered, “like you, in a castle as grand as this; what would the people think of their Prince?”
The Prince made to close the door himself out of disgust, when the old woman spoke again.
“Dear Prince, I beg you, spare but a bit of kindness, and surely, you shall receive it in return, in a moment where you might need it.” She pleaded, her eyes dark with sadness, and a bit of sympathy.
This infuriated the Prince. How dare she? How could a Prince need kindness? Sympathy? And from an old wench whose face alone was a tragedy. How dare she?
“Leave,” the Prince sneered, eyes slanted in disgust, “I need nothing, much less from the likes of someone like you.”
“Your Majesty,” the old woman said, her voice reverberating throughout the castle and much darker now, “true beauty lies beyond the skin. It would be a sadness to a live a life believing anything else.”
The Prince snorted, in a manner unbefitting a prince, and closed the door on the old woman standing out in the pouring rain.
The servants did not pause in their work; they were not new to the Prince’s ugly heart. This did not make bearing the Prince’s cruelty any easier.
The storm raged on viciously, and the Prince had had barely made his way across the hall, before the castle doors swung open with a terrifying howl.
Terror seemed to spread throughout the hallway, and amongst the screams, a melodic voice rang out.
“Young Prince.”
All the hall’s occupants went silent at the sight before them.
A woman stood in the hall’s threshold, of such beauty, that it seemed as if she commanded even the air around her, the storm outside seemingly frozen, as the lightning raging down from the heavens did not flicker at all.
“Young Prince.” She called again, her voice so enchanting, that it seemed to nearly bring tears to those who heard her.
“Who are you?” The Prince whispered, stunned, his arrogant nature gone as he watched the golden haired beauty walk a few steps further into the hall.
“You,” she started, as she reached for something in her emerald robes, “You refused a beggar, someone of such misfortune, a simple night’s rest?”
As beautiful as she was, the Prince felt a sense of raw fear snaking in his chest. Her beauty was beyond compare, but there was something equally terrifying in her being.
“I—”
“She offered her last to you,” she continued, stroking the tips of the rose gently, “And it was still not enough? For what, is a simple rose, but a simple rose? Beautiful, but the most beautiful things can often times be the most useless.”
“True beauty lies beyond the skin. It would be a sadness to a live a life believing anything else.” She echoed, in a gravelly voice, and the Prince—
She sighed, her golden hair floating in gentle waves down her shoulders, and it seemed as though the room sighed with her.
“You—you can’t be her.” He whispered, fear evident in the way he shook.
“Young Prince, there is no kindness in your heart. Your soul is empty, and I wonder if that means you do not possess one. Now pray tell, young Prince, shall I make you as hideous as that heart of yours?”
The Prince pleaded for forgiveness, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.
No one knows what happened on this unusually stormy night, only that no one was seen from the castle again, not even their Prince. Darkness settled over what used to be one of the most beautiful parts of their town, but was now instead a constant nightmare. Very few ventured into the castle and when they were never seen again, no one went anywhere near it again.
Once upon a time, in a time so long ago, where these unbelievable stories were much more than unbelievable stories, there was a prince.
He was unkind and cruel, and that was the start and end of it all.
There would only be darkness now.
“Jongin, no.”
Jongin shrugged the hand pulling at his shoulder.
But his brother was not giving up.
“Jongin! This is ridiculous! Did you really think I would let you take my place?”
Jongin glared as he turned to his brother, “Did you really think that I would let you accept this?”
Their parents were distraught when news came that Taemin would be given to the Beast. And Jongin—Jongin was furious.
There is so much wrong in this, so much wrong with this town, and with that beast. He wishes hating his parents for not wanting to leave this godforsaken town was enough, but that would not help anyone. Especially not his little brother.
Why his brother of all people? His brother was kind, but he had his selfish tendencies. Surely the monster would not want that? The Beast might want someone meek and docile; that was not his brother. Surely he can be allowed to appeal to the Elders?
But beyond such flimsy reasoning, what would he have to offer? What trade could he make to save his brother? His family has nothing.
But he—he had everything the Beast wanted. He had beauty, he knew, from the many people who tried courting him. And he was far kinder than his brother, for he was known for it. And he was pure.
His brother was wild, and careless, and even the Elders could see the danger of offending the damned Beast. But not Jongin; he was the opposite of his brother, he was quiet and careful.
He had what the Beast wanted.
“This is ridiculous!” Taemin exclaimed, matching his brother’s glare, his hands fisted at his sides. “You cannot stop this. It is the Elders’ decision.”
“I do not care.” Jongin muttered, turning to go to the Town’s Court, where the Elders’ give their rulings.
“Jongin, stop this! My—this sacrifice is for the people; to keep them safe from that monster. You know this. If I was chosen, then there is reason for it.” Taemin glared, his hands clenched into fists on his brother’s tunic.
Jongin hesitated long enough for Taemin to push further.
“This will save the people, Jongin. Our parents, our friends; we cannot be selfish. You know this, brother.” Taemin whispered, eyes earnest as he stared into his brother’s.
Jongin nodded, his eyes dark, as he lowered his head. He would not look into Taemin’s eyes, not when he was being taken away from him, and not when he could see the fear in them.
Jongin would not pretend to be selfless and brave, for he was not. He feared the Beast as everyone did. But he loved his brother even more than he feared the Beast, and could not bear to lose him. Especially not to a fate as cruel as this.
He clenched his fists as his brother dragged him back home. His brother took him too lightly. He would not accept this; he would still go.
With this terrible darkness came the Beast.
A monster not even seen in dreams; large, he stood as tall as the oldest trees, so twisted and grotesque, and vicious... and cruel. And this Beast had no mercy. All he wanted was what he wanted, and he would take, and no one could stop. For how do you stop a monster?
The town’s Elders had saved their people before, and they were not so blinded by fear that they would ignore the cries and the losses of their people.
So they sought out the Beast.
They knew that there would be losses; the kind that is never forgotten, but—
“The needs of the people outweigh that of a few.” The Leader of the Elder council said, his eyes dark with grief, as he too, had lost to the Beast. His only daughter, gone to what end, he does not know.
“How many are a few?” the Wise Elder asked, his grey eyebrows furrowed, “And how often, Leader? To what end would this continue? Is this really the only way we save our people?”
“We have,” began Selene, the Youngest, “not much else we can do.”
“We could wait it out.” The Wise Elder whispered, his aged hands clenched into fists, “The Beast will soon have the people running from Exodus. That would be for the best.”
The Youngest shook her head, “We would lose too many that way, and some families are too large to afford leaving.”
The Leader sighed, “We have no other choice.”
They sought the Beast. They were determined not flinch under his appearance, under his glare, but the way he walked, the way he spoke, it seemed as if that was what he ultimately wanted, so they cowered. Pride was a dead man’s wish.
“Why wreak havoc,” the Leader whispered, head bowed to the Beast, “when we can reach an understanding, Beast?”
The Beast made a snarling sound, the echo of it grating and ugly, before he stood before the Elder.
“Tell me,” He growled, his eyes so dark that they appeared to be dead, “why I would want that? I take as I please, and no one can stand in my way. Why would we need to reach an understanding, Elder?”
“The people are scared, “Selene whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anger, “and their fear will have them running from this town. And you will have no left to take. That would be your loss.”
The Beast growled again, angrier, but his eyes were even darker now.
Contemplation.
Time seemed to stand still before the Beast turned his sneer to the town Elders.
“And what kind of understanding do you suggest, Elder?”
The Leader glanced amongst the others, before he said, “We will pick one, every ten years, and give that person to you willingly.”
The Beast looked almost surprised, in the way he momentarily went still before he said, “And how will you decide who I would find worthy?”
“We have paid mind to the—people you have taken before. Beautiful, good and—pure. We will send only the most beautiful, and the good, and the pure.” The Wise Elder said, his hands held firmly behind his back.
“And what if I am unsatisfied?” The Beast demanded, “I would have to wait another ten years?”
“No,” Selene replied, “Return who was given, and we shall send another. However, there is only so much we can do if they are unable to do what you expect. We could sacrifice our whole town and it still might not be enough—”
“Quiet!” The Beast growled loudly, his right arm swinging out to hit the old oak standing behind him, smashing it in half, the ground trembling beneath his rage.
A sense of terror settled amongst the council, as the Beast continued to rage on, destroying the trees who have long lived in this forest.
“Who do you think you are?!” The Beast raged on, destroying the surrounding nature, and eventually kicking up a rosebush before he fell quiet, his shoulders tense and heaving.
A silence seemed to take over the forest, haunted as it seemed as though the forest was whispering, several voices mumbling several things, in an almost feverish way.
It was awhile before the Beast spoke again, long enough for him to have seemingly gotten control over his anger, before he growled once again, “Very well. We will do as you say, Elder, but no trickery, or else.”
The loss was still too great for the Elders too feel much relief, but they agreed, as this was what they came for.
“Understood.”
The Elders fought for this loss filled peace, and prayed for a better day. One filled with light, instead of this—darkness.
But only darkness followed.
The people were furious, outraged; how could their trusted Elders do this?
Families ran with their young, and the Elders prayed that the rest would do so, as well. But that did not happen; most stayed, since often their families were too big, and they too poor, and they had built up their entire lives in their little town.
And every ten years, the Beast would send for his sacrifices; a dark and sinister looking carriage, with no wheels and no horse, but instead thin wooden legs, which carried it much like a grotesque spider. It would stand in wait in the middle of the now dark forest, and would not leave until it had received what it had come for. And once it was locked, it could not be opened again.
And years passed much in this way of sacrifices and loss, and the town Elders could no longer comfort their people. A tense quiet had settled over the little town of Exodus, and it could not be lifted.
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Date: 2017-01-13 09:14 pm (UTC)