milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Charles is in the high-backed overstuffed armchair by the fireplace (now that's funny, I thought it used to be in the corner... How did that happen.) that he's somewhat taken over, doing what he usually does. Sipping at a glass of wine, and watching people. Or beings, if the case may be.

Every once in a while, a particularly interesting scene catches his eye, and his gaze pauses there for a few moments to watch.

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His voice is hushed and half-entranced. "Fascinating things, aren't they?" He's somehow managed to be right next to Charles' chair without the man noticing.

An ear flicks in Q's direction, and then back. "Quite," he rumbles as softly as possible. Especially after not seeing any for a rather long time. As they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Already, the conversation strikes a ring of earlier in the evening. The man (? is tacked on in Charles' mind, though) must have an extraordinary talent for coincidence, though, because he doesn't really seem like Yrael.

"It's almost like ... watching a star collide with a black hole, and you can't look away, because even though it's a disaster, it's so beautiful a disaster ..."

Charles chuckles as he watches a man throw a ball and talk condescendingly to a dog that was a man earlier in the day. He has no clue that the same man is standing next to him now. Hooray for the gurgling dying cow sound.

"Yes, yes it is beautiful," he mutters to himself in French, the words sounding more like an ancient curse.

That selfsame man is also talking to Puck about buying the dog.

"Of all the languages mankind developed, French is by far the least ugly. Pity the same can't be said for those who are generally born to speak it."

As his eyes shift away, Charles notes this fact. He finds it interesting.

"My apologies." Somewhat stung by the remark, Charles is at least thankful that it's a witty one, rather than something a bit more blunt and callous.

"No, no, don't apologize. After all, you can't help where your parents gave birth to you, nor could you at such a young age flee to a more civilized country ..."

It should be noted that Q only takes exception to the French Hauteur, not Charles' looks. In fact, he seems not to have noticed them. Or if he did, found it's uniqueness beneath remark.

As the realization that Q is dissing the French people, rather than his looks, Charles releases a mental sigh, soothed as though a balm had been laid over a wound.

Given what Charles has seen his people do, and what he's read about the accomplishments of other nations, he can't really blame Q's opinion. Meg this Beast is not.

"Ah. This is true. But we cannot change the past, unfortunately."

"Well ... no, you're right. Or at least we shouldn't."

Finally, Charles looks over, quite intrigued by now. What would be his eyebrows go up at the same man that was playing with the puppy, and talking with Puck. Interesting.

"No, I suppose not," he slowly replies.

He waves his hand offhandedly. "The others get so upset, and then I have to go back and fix every little detail, down to the bloody butterflies in china and everything ..."

"Others?"

"The other Q of the Continuum."

"Ah, yes, that is so extremely helpful at explaining. I'm afraid I'm not quite so well-learned as to know what or who that is, Msr Q."

"Ah. I'm Q, of the Q Continuum. There are others. We're all omnipotent beings whose powers and abilities far outstrip your comprehension. Most of the others, however, have a sense of humor you could fit in a thimble wihout relying on atomic theory to quantify."

Charles has the good grace to be somewhat stunned. Although really, by this time, you'd think that he'd learn to expect things like this. Milliways, and all.

He also has the common sense to stand up and bow. "My greetings, Msr Q. I am the Beast, called Charles, and it is an honour and privelege to meet you." His name sounds like Sharl, rather than something that can be shortened to Charlie or Chuck. Charles sits back down, settling his 8' plus into the chair. "Somehow, I get the feeling that it's a very good thing that at least you have a sense of humour." Solemn, rigid omnipotent beings don't sound like a very good thing for most other races. Particularly with the spectacular "accomplishments" of humans.

He smiles. How nice to get accolades rather than derision. He patted Charles on the shoulder in a comradely fashion. "So, Charles. Tell me about yourself. Yes, I'm omnipotent, but I prefer to stay out of people's minds. Less annoying that way, I find."

"I imagine it would be, Msr," Charles says, sounding slightly amused. Because it does sound rather true.

After a moment of deliberation, he decides that he can and will tell Q the entire story. After all, the being is omnipotent and could find out anyway, but Charles has come to the realization that he would never break the curse anyway. Well, the belief, at least.

"Well, I am a deceased ex-prince from France; left there in 1748. I say ex because I somewhat lost connection with my people, and eventually, my kingdom, after I was changed. Although I suppose I would be considered the king, after my father died." Charles opens his handpawhand and gestures slightly toward himself. "A rather malicious fae - as tends to happen, it's so horrible cliche - decided to curse me upon my 18th birthday. I think she was bored. I was changed into what you see now, and the condition of the curse was that if I wanted to return to my human form, a woman must fall in love with me, as I am. She could not know who I really am. And it must have happened before the enchanted rose I was given died."

He takes a sip of wine and looks down, eyeing Q politely. "You?"

It almost could be considered humorous. Almost.

"Has it?"

He shrugs. "I'm Q. Omnipotent. We Q decided to pass the time by watching and guiding younger races. I was stuck with Humanity. Not much more to tell, really."

Charles looks down at his finely-clothed arm. Softly he replies, "I am not sure. I do not think so, or I would not be here. ...I believe."

...

"As I said... I am not sure."

Moving on.

"That would be a rather troublesome task, I should think, Msr Q. Humanity can tend to be rather stubborn. I believe the term is 'pig-headed.'"

"They are, Charles. That and more. Stubborn, ignorant, foolish, vain- my word, how vain they are! -violent, primitive and ill-tempered."

He nods, pretty much agreeing with what Q has to say. He'd learned a fair time ago to give up many of those traits, for they neither held nor gave comfort or hope.

"Indeed."

Even his own Beauty was stubborn, and occasionally quite foolish."

He taps his chin. "What we need for you is a young woman who's bright enough to see past your exterior and to the true Charles. Hmm ... Who could that be?"

He snaps his fingers. "I know just the woman."

Charles.... blinks.

"Excuse me?"

I think you broke him, Q.

"I know just the woman to help you break your curse. Trust me. It may take time, but she's the one. I should know after all, right? I'm Q."

He points to the last barstool at the counter. "Meet me there on Sunday the 10th, and we'll be in business."

If Charles were a small child, he would be saying this: "But. ....but but but... I have a woman to help me! ...I think."

He doesn't really want another woman to fall in love with him. He loves Beauty.

But... he's dead. And Beauty is back in France.

And then there's the question of the rose. He knew it was starting to fade when Beauty came back. Had it lasted? Was it dead by now?

But who was he to argue with an omnipotent being? After all. He's Q.

"I suppose...."

Charles looks at the barstool.

"I will be there."

He nods. "Initially, she'll be distracted and almost hostile. Be your charming and polite self and she'll warm to you quickly."

An alarmed look crosses Charles' face.

"Hostile? Why would.... I don't think I want to force my presence upon a..." Now now, what was the situation with Beauty? Mmm? Something about imprisonment in the castle in order to keep her father from being kept instead? Yes, that was it. Think before you speak, dear Beast.

"Very well."

A flash of light, and Q is gone.

Charles has stopped watching the patrons of the bar, and is now staring at the fire. He will most likely be there the rest of the night.

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