Enchantment (Open) (FINISHED)

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik mumbled a "thank you" under his breath as he took his hand back, rubbing the back of it and looking up at her. He immediately turned away, remembering his melted face. The nose was only hanging on by a thread, and he doubted it would last much longer.

"Oh, no. I'm fine. Thank you for your concern."

He'd done it this time. Made a complete fool of himself. "Yes, yes I can see that now," he said, holding his nose. He glanced at his violin, and took it in his hand lovingly, but gently so as not to disturb his newly covered wound. He grabbed the bow as well, and got up swiftly. He took the hand from his nose and wiped the makeup off quickly on his shirt, and held it out for Jane to take. "Thank you for your help, Mademoiselle, but I think I should be leaving. It was... pleasant meeting you."

Unfortunately for him, he leaned much too far over, and that thread that the nose had been hanging on? Well... It simply...

Snapped.

The prosthetic nose tumbled to the ground at her knees, and he immediately retracted his hand, scrambling to the other side of a tombstone, holding his face and hiding behind the grave in fear. He became frantic, shaking his head back and forth.

"Nonononononononononon! Please, don't--don't look at me! Just stay away!"

[JANE EYRE]

Jane reached up to take Erik's hand. "It's been quite eventful hasn't it. I hope we may get to see each other again, perhaps start anew?" Before she could finish her sentence or even grasp Erik's proffered hand, his nose fell off and he scrambled away before she could comprehend what had happened. Jane looked down at the prosthetic appendage, Erik's cry in the background.

That was why he was so sensitive when she had declared herself plain and invisible. Her gaze softening, Jane picked up the prosthetic nose and wiped it carefully on her cardigan, cleaning off the make up, grass, and dirt.

"It's okay Erik," Jane rose and followed after him, crouching on the other side of the tombstone. "Please, come out from behind there. I promise I won't laugh or jeer or whatever it is you're afraid I'll do," Jane wasn't one to laugh at another's misfortune. The glimpse she had caught of Erik's true face had been shocking, unexpected, but not terrifying or revolting. Jane didn't find fear in what other's did, she often found beauty. She had been forced to for the longest time, her life being filled with ugly things.

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik cowered behind the tombstone, not out of fear for himself-- he knew he could take care of himself-- but out of her fear. For he had known she would be afriad... Everyone else was. She seemed like an everywoman, susceptible the same emotions most humans would feel upon seeing his face.

"Please, come out from behind there. I promise I won't laugh or jeer or whatever it is you're afraid I'll do."

But what was this? Was she merely hiding her fear out of sympathy for him? Whatever the case may be, he still would not come out. He was, for lack of a better word, ashamed of his appearence. He placed nearly all the blame on himself for the way he looked, any other cause given to God. It was silly of him, he knew, but he could never shake the feeling that it was all his doing. He was always the one who had ruined his beautiful mother's life, after all.

His mother... His dear, sweet mother, who's appearence withered away day by day. Her hair became unruly and bags appeared under her eyes, simply because he caused her so much pain. His first memories of her were not warm or kind, but she still emmenated beauty, even if she held a forlorn complexion. Then... Then by the time he had left his parent's house, she had looked like an old woman. She was barely 30.

He knew what his face would cause a woman like Jane to feel. He did not want to subject her more to his rage and fury. After all... She was right when she said he of all people should cherise such a beautiful flower.

"I--I'd rather not."

[JANE EYRE]

"I--I'd rather not."

Jane sighed and leaned against the tombstone. She held the prosthetic nose in her lap and held out a hand. Jane was reaching out for Erik, offering her help and support. "I promise Erik. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly like others," The words were paired with a sad smile. No, she wasn't like others at all. Her art was, called by some, grotesque and morbid. It frightened some and inspired others, but they all walked away with feelings of unease deep in their bones.

"I'm coming around Erik. Know that I will not be returning your nose until we meet, face to face," While speaking, Jane rolled to her knees and began to crawl around the gravestone very slowly. She kept her face tilted down so that Erik didn't freak out too bad. Jane made sure not to let the nose rub against the grass as she moved carefully. "I'm coming around slowly. And for God's sake, don't try to run away. Last time you did your hand gashed open,"

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik stopped. He didn't want to comply with her request, but unfortunately he couldn't leave the graveyard without his nose. Otherwise he'd have more than just this unusual girl to deal with. He sighed, covering his face and turning slightly toward her.

"Give it back," he said. "I need it!" When she came around, he reached a blind hand toward her lap to grab it, but he couldn't really see because of her hair and his hand that he would not remove from his face. "You... You don't understand! I can't leave here without it!"

[JANE EYRE]

Jane avoided Erik's searching hand easily enough, pushing it aside gently. "Erik, calm down please," Jane folded her legs and sat down in front of Erik. He had a hand covering his face, stubborn in not letting her see. She closed her hands around the nose and rested it on her lap. He had to calm down and wasn't being reasonable. "I know this is hard for you but you can trust me. Okay?"

Jane waited for Erik to lower his hand. He was distressed, obviously, but Jane felt that he didn't need to be. She wasn't a mean spirited person, she didn't jeer or poke fun at people. When someone was isolated by others, Jane naturally gravitated towards them. Erik was suffering just that only he was the one doing the seperating. It was a move of defense, trying to protect himself and Jane suspected that, through some convuluted logic, he was protecting her as well. The bizarre chivalry wasn't lost on Jane but she felt that it was poorly placed considering what had happened earlier.

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik was incredibly skeptical. He wasn't sure who to trust at any given time, and certainly not a girl he just met. And the truth was, she had pissed him off. Immensly. It wasn't just her haughty remarks or her defiance to his terror, but the way she pretended to care. It was almost an insult, especially since she knew he had no nose! Who in the world could possibly care about someone without a basic appendage?

She seemed to show it, though no matter what he'd done, he'd never truly given in to kindness. He wanted to, dear God he wanted to, but his conscience pulled him away from it. She was a liar, he knew that. They were all liars, those who cared. Because he'd seen true hatred, and knew that it existed in all. He had seen far too much in his life to prove otherwise.

But perhaps... Perhaps he should listen for once. He'd always dreamed that someone would care about him, even in the sligtest regard. For a moment, just a moment, maybe he should let his guard down. Oh, no, he'd get hurt again. This happened all the time. Too many questions would arise, and he wouldn't be able to answer them without arguing. Then someone would end up dead.

He didn't want to see this beautiful little flower washed away...

He gulped, still shaking at the mere thought of showing his face to her. By now, the makeup had already either been wiped or sweated away. If he took his hand away, she would see him for what he truly was...

A monster.

He shook his head in resentment. No, he wasn't a monster. Only his mother thought him that... But she was his mother. Mothers always know best, even when you don't want them to.

But her eyes displayed such kindess, remorse, and pity, this little Jane Eyre. He never liked pity, though. Such a vulgar term. He much prefered not to be pitied... But to be perhaps praised? For his work, for his genius, for his human capacity to feel.

He scoffed at his miserable inner monologue, deciding then and there, he needed his nose back if he was to leave the graveyard.

Slowly, not without resignation, he took his hand away. It shook in a compact manner, and he placed it on his knee, closing his eyes. His brows furrowed, and he cleared his throat.

"Please give me my nose back... M'amselle."

[JANE EYRE]

As Erik's hand dropped, Jane released a quiet gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. She knew that it would be bad but Jane wasn't fully prepared to see it. Despite what Erik seemed to think, it did not inspire fear in Jane. It incited sorrow for all that he must had endured. His childhood must have been horrific and his parents...Jane couldn't even imagine how a mother would react to that. The most caring of parents couldn't have been just fine with a deformed child.

There was a strange sort of poetry to it. Erik's face had the odd quality of beauty that Jane so often sought out. It was dark and unsettling but there was an elegance to it all. From an artistic point of view, Erik's face was perfectly formed, symmetrical and unique. Aesthetically speaking, it wasn't pleasing to look upon but that didn't change how Jane looked at him. She looked on his as a creation near perfection, probably in a way that only she could see. Smiling softly, Jane reached forward, taking Erik's hand in her own. Turning it over she placed the nose in the palm of his hand.

"Thank you, Erik. Thank you for trusting me with this," Her voice was clogged with a bittersweet emotion. She felt blessed to have been trusted with such a thing, but was overwhelmed with the sympathy the look on his face inspired, not his face itself.