Sweet Dreams Are {NOT} Made Of These!, Tag: Monsieur D'Arque

[Josette Bimbette]

No, it could not be, it just can't; I will not accept it! Gaston cannot really be dead!

These thoughts had been plaguing the mind of Josette since that fateful night. A great deal of the men had returned from their intent to storm the castle, but all appeared quite battered and shaken up. Much to her dismay, there was no sign of Gaston amongst the group. None of the men knew his whereabouts since they were dealing with attacks from the enchanted objects. Belle also never returned, but news spread as to why. Some kind of curse had been lifted that was surrounding the whole castle. She was to marry the prince. Her father abandoned his home in the village to live within the kingdom, along with the faithful servants. The merriment of this news did nothing for the maiden, it only saddened her further. Her two sisters shared in her misery for a short time as well, but soon allowed other men to strike up their fancy. A deep depression began to gnaw at the girl, there was no closure for her. As far as she could remember it was always about flirting with Gaston, now there was nothing. No matter what anyone said or did, her spirits could not be lifted.

This dark, somber mood continued for quite some time since that night. It was while wandering about on her own, hoping a change of scenery would do her some good, a strange phenomenon occurred. The blonde maiden was walking through the woods, slowly making her way back towards the village when a low voice pricked at her ear. A very familiar voice at that called her by name. Glancing about, she saw nothing and prepared to dismiss it, but once again the phantom voice called out to her.

"Who....who's there?"

This time the voice sounded slightly closer, beckoning her to follow. Josette followed in the direction it came from. It led her out more to a clearing in the woods. It was there, in the open field, a sight for sore eyes swam into the girl's vision, GASTON! The blonde beamed brightly at seeing him standing there. The huntsman stood proud and tall, hands on hip. Starting to run towards him, the girl opened her arms out wide. The moment she grew close he vanished from sight, causing her to tumble downward. Looking back up, pushing aside strands of blonde hair that fell in her face, she saw he was now some ways behind her, chuckling wholeheartedly. This confused the bimbette as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Gaston? What has happened? Why can I not embrace you?"

The huntsman beckoned again for her to follow him and then disappeared back through the woods. Josette tried to keep up, but lost sight of him. This was maddening, she knew what she saw and heard, but why was he playing tricks on her? No matter though, it filled her with a sense of hope that he had returned. She needed to let the people of her village know the good news.

Running back into the village, she ran straight for the lodge. Surely his friends would believe her and also be happy to hear he was alive and well. The scene in the lodge was rather peaceful. Men enjoying their drinks, chatting amongst each other, flirting with the barmaids and so on. The tranquility was halted abruptly the moment Josette came bursting through the door.

"He's back, he's really back! I saw Gaston!"

All eyes fell on the disheveled-looking blonde, some even chuckled softly. With so much time that had passed, many all began to accept the worst; the huntsman most assuredly had met a horrible end. Everyone knew he was out for blood that night, never would he back down without a fight. The fact that the beast still lived, now in human form, spoke volumes as to what may have occurred. It also was no surprise how depressed this girl had been since that night. Some tried to reason with her, explaining it most likely could not be possible. Josette stamped her little foot, insisting she knew what she saw. It was rather painful to see someone as beautiful as she falling apart right before their eyes. Becoming frustrated with everyone, the maiden ran out, still claiming she knew what she saw. A few of the men folk tried to stop her, but she was too far gone. No one had noticed towards the back of the lodge was one of the assistants from the asylum; he had witnessed the whole display. His employer would very much enjoy learning about this.....the mental decline of a bimbette. What a lovely addition she would make!

[Monsieur D'Arque]

No one would miss her.

Monsieur D'Arque chuckled to himself as he locked the main entrance to the asylum from the outside. He was back in business, even after the humiliation at the castle. Half of him wanted to slink away and die right there and then, for it was then in which he had finally been revealed the true horror of what had pained him for the past ten years. But no more. His duty on this earth was not finished yet, especially since there were some clients whose eventual demises needed to be painful and slow.

After all, tonight was the perfect night for collecting. Nights like these - dark, rainy, with a flash of lightning and a loud boom of thunder every once in a while for added effect - came only so often. Likewise did a case like this come up.

The client? One of the idiotic Bimbettes who were constantly swooning over that numbskull Gaston. D'Arque knew in his gut her days were numbered, and he also knew that she would only snap when her Prince Charming was snatched from her (and good riddance, while the thought was on his mind!).

That was how they always were. However, the fact that she had taken this long to snap had been quite a record.

One of his... associates had claimed to see her raving about how Gaston had returned from the dead. As much as he would have LOVED for that to be true, D'Arque seized the opportunity when he saw it, and when his other employees were about to go in for the kill, D'Arque had directly stated it had been best if he collected her alone. This was a rare case, D'Arque making a collection entirely alone, but he had assumed that if too many men came to collect her, she would become traumatized and therefore slip out of his grasp. However, the best part about her capture was that there was no Belle to protect her.

Oh, how he had felt humiliated when that young wench Belle had interfered with his collecting of Maurice. Then again, no one had said it was going to be easy, although that was simply what D'Arque had always assumed. After that, he couldn't bear to even make eye contact with her, for the way she pleaded with him to release her father... it was almost like...

The lock clicked on the door to the asylum. D'Arque couldn't risk anyone getting out, especially since the longer they were imprisoned, the madder they got. It was best for them to live with their own delusions than to spread them to everyone else. That was his motto, or at least one of them.

The rain soaked what was left of his hair before he opened his black umbrella and used it to shield himself both from the rain and his surroundings, although he blended in with the shadows enough not to be seen. Those who did see him as he solemnly wandered the streets, searching for his prey, immediately looked away and even went so far as to return to their houses in order to protect themselves from the presence of the shadowy man. However, D'Arque did not mind this. The sane people - or the people who had not yet snapped - could protect themselves all they wanted from Monsieur D'Arque, but on this night in particular, there was only one person who, try as she might, could not evade the foreboding presence of whom seemed to be death himself, looming over the minds of Provence as the eternal hourglass counted down, for some faster than for others.

His raspy yet somehow silky, bittersweet voice seemed to echo throughout the silence of the night, barely heard from afar over the pounding rain.

"Come to me, my pretty..."

[Josette Bimbette]

Tears pricked at the girls eyes as she fled from the lodge. She ignored the cries of the men behind her. No one understood her. She was not crazy, she knew what she saw! Her fleeing took her as far back as the woods. She found strange solace by being back in the enclosure of the trees. Somewhere out here was her Gaston, she was determined to find him. Darting about the trees, the maiden looked about, heading into the clearing where she last saw him. Green eyes glanced all around. It was then she caught sight of familiar black hair that made her run in its direction. Dark baritone chuckling was also heard, unmistakably belonging to Gaston. It made her giggle a little in anticipation as she ran in search of him. Her name was called, which made her heart beat faster.

"Yes, Gaston, I am here! Oh, how I have missed you!"

The moment she rounded the corner where the voice beckoned from was no one. Not a soul around in sight. Standing amongst the trees, Josette looked around, feeling completely alone. Where did he go?

"Gaston, please, show yourself. No more games."

Cold wind rustled through the branches, a small pattering sound followed with it. In the distance was rolling thunder. A storm was definitely on the rise. This caused the blonde's shoulders to sag, knowing that she should head for home, lest she really wanted to get badly drenched. Her sanity struggled inwardly; part of her knew to try and stay level-headed, but other nagging thoughts continued to drive her mad. She just could not dismiss what she saw and heard. The rain drops grew heavier as they plopped down upon her, causing her to yelp a little. Her search for Gaston would have to wait till the storm blew over.

Dark clouds had now rolled in heavily, making the night even blacker than ever. The maiden trudged along in the direction of her home, various conflicting thoughts continued to float around. It was then a deep voice addressed her from behind.

"Come to me, my pretty..."

Coming to a stand-still on the cobblestone pavement, the maiden shivered a little. Was that Gaston? Did he follow her from the woods? Josette looked around, trying to discern the direction of the voice.

"Who.....who"s there? Gaston?"

Skirting towards the eave of the nearest building, the soaked girl continued to glance around her surroundings; looking for the source of the mysterious voice. She placed a hand to her rapidly beating heart, trying her best to calm herself. That continual battle within her raged on, what was real and what was fantasy. Both were horribly blurring together as one.

[Edward Gracey]

((CRAP. Erase...))

[Monsieur D'Arque]

There she was, within close range. The blonde hadn't attempted to hide her bright red dress within the shadows like she should have, had she known Monsieur D'Arque was about. Of course, she hadn't heard the memo - she was too demented to notice. Had she been sane enough to run, the collection would have been more thrilling and difficult at the same time. D'Arque thought it would be wise to corner her first and then act later. He said nothing at all, not even to her, before she had trapped herself in the alleyway.

"Yes, Gaston, I am here! Oh, how I have missed you!"
"Gaston, please, show yourself. No more games."

She had been exclaiming something... something about Gaston. So his associate had not been lying. It was both amusing and disheartening to see the pretty girl in such a state, but D'Arque had seen it coming for a long time. Perhaps it had been his knack for snap judgment, but he could always tell from sometimes merely looking at a person how long they were going to last with their sanity. The Bimbettes? Each of them had their days numbered significantly, however the other two sisters coped better than he thought they would.

No matter. It was going to be a tragedy to them, no matter how they coped with the painful demise of the almighty Gaston.

"Who.....who"s there? Gaston?"

"Well, well, well... what have we here? A Bimbette, lost and alone... Didn't your parents ever tell you not to go wandering about the streets at night? But maybe you haven't listened. Maybe you've something... or someONE... else on your mind, that you've put even above your own safety?" He crept up behind the unsuspecting Bimbette until he was almost literally breathing down her neck. "Well... Josette, Josette, my dearest pet..." She could feel his icy cold hands around her neck and shoulders as his equally cold voice drifted in the air around her head and eventually fading away through her ears. His breath had also materialized as he spoke, creating what seemed to be a small cloud of fog surrounding them. "You are overdue for an appointment..."

[Josette Bimbette]

The maiden continued to steady her racing heart, eyes still darting about. She was trying to comprehend the voice she heard when it addressed her in that silky, condescending tone once again; this time it was even closer than before.

There was no way it belonged to Gaston, it was far deeper than her beloved huntsman's. No, this voice held a chilling tone to it, one that made her shiver to the very core. That horrible feeling of someone lurking right behind her overwhelmed her, she felt trapped. She started to move a little further along the building she had flattened herself against. It was then the touch of icy cold fingers on her shoulder and neck made her freeze where she stood. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream.

"Well... Josette, Josette, my dearest pet..."

Josette jerked her head back a little, trying to view the source behind the ghostly voice. The darkness of the evening, mixed with the rain and fog made visibility quite difficult.

"You are overdue for an appointment...."

What?! What did that mean? The shadowy outline of a man was scarcely clear, but his features were still hidden. Pulling away from his icy grip, she spun around to face him.

"Who....who are you? How do you know my name?"

The maiden hugged herself tightly, a combination of trying to warm herself as well as trying to calm down. She was shivering something fierce now, fearful of who this man was and why he was pursuing her. It made her long for Gaston to come to her aide. Why must her huntsman be so fickle in time like this?

[Monsieur D'Arque]

"Who....who are you? How do you know my name?"

Good... she was nice and scared. D'Arque smirked as she trembled, desperately attempting to hold herself together. Yet D'Arque himself knew that she was past holding together - she was way past holding together, he thought as he watched her tremble. She looked so vulnerable, completely at his mercy. It wouldn't have hurt to play with her mind, make her go madder and madder. He still had time, anyway. The asylum, after all, had no closing time.

"Well... who do I appear to be?" D'Arque hissed, gently pulling Josette off the wall of the building and holding her arms behind her back. "I toy with you, Josette. You remember, don't you? Your handsome man always had a sense of humor. Now why don't we go back to the tavern? Perhaps get a nice, warm seat by the fire, or maybe take a long walk by the river? After all... the reason I came back for you and no one else was because you are the one I most adore... Now... let me see your hands, so that I may remember how soft and warm they are." His fingers, the icy twigs they were, slipped off of Josette's shoulders and slid down her arms until D'Arque had a firm grip on her wrists.

"Now, I'm going to make sure you don't run away again, because I fear losing you like I did before," D'Arque coldly reassured her, quietly tying her wrists together with a long strand of rope. "See? Doesn't hurt, does it...?"

[Josette Bimbette]

Trying to struggle proved to be futile. It was not just his tight grip that kept her rooted to where she stood, but that sinister voice of his. She felt as though her knees may buckle and give out from under her. His voice was like poison, seeping into her brain, enveloping her completely. He was quite insistent that she knew him, but it only confused her further.

Her wrists were pulled back as this man proceeded to whisper gently against her. Practically cooing softly, it sent shivers all through her. No longer was it the elements that chilled the maiden to the bone. Her mind was whirling, she felt incredibly dizzy. Barely finding her own voice she moaned out softly for Gaston, still hoping and praying he was nearby to save her. This man's deep voice continued to overpower her, drowning out her own words.

"Please....why are you doing this....let me go....

If this spinning in her head did not stop she was most certainly going to pass out; that frightened her deeply. She would be unconscious, completely at this man's mercy. Such a terrifying thought made the girl breathe heavily, working herself up into quite a state, not realizing it was making her predicament even worse. Her eyes started to roll back in her head as her head drooped downward, her golden tresses falling in her face.......the pain and fear were far too overwhelming for her.

"Gaston, save me..."

Her words were barely audible as the cold,rainy world before her was growing dimmer.....

[Monsieur D'Arque]

If D'Arque had learned anything in his career, it was to not have sympathy for his potential inmates, to look at their suffering and not crack anything but a twisted, satisfied smile.

"Please..."

That was exactly his mindset when he watched her plead with him, pleading for mercy. Her weakness made him stronger, as the more power he had over her, the weaker the young woman became...

"Why are you doing this....?"

... and the longer she would sleep, once she was done pleading. D'Arque liked it when they slept, for they wouldn't put up a fight when he would eventually take them away. He'd only seen a few cases of this, having rarely gone out and collected the inmates himself, but when he did... it was a feeling unlike any other he'd ever had.

"Let me go...."

If D'Arque had gone out more often to collect the inmates, then the times he did, however temporarily, escape the confines of the asylum would be significantly less special to both him... and the rest of the town. He enjoyed it the most when no one could predict when he was coming, like a shadowy banshee or one of the evasive murderers of lost lore.

On second thought... D'Arque liked that. He considered himself among the latter: the phantom who was the cause for a large mass of delusional people disappearing into thin air and their remains found in the river days later, going only by the name of Claude D'Arque...

"Gaston, save me..."

But for now, his fame would only be limited to Provence, where from that moment on, Josette Bimbette would never be seen again.

~~~~~

D'Arque had laid Josette to rest on the floor of one of the vacant grimier cells farthest away from his office, for he had had enough of her screaming and squealing back when she was considered sane. When Josette would eventually awaken, the man who had snatched her away would not be present, but some of his guards would have been keeping watch at her cell, for D'Arque had given them specific instructions to keep watch of her until she would awaken, and hopefully she would have settled down by then. Even though he had personally disliked her, it still pleased D'Arque to watch her suffer, watch her long for the one thing that would never come to her.

It gave him power. His inmates' suffering - their howling, crooning, screaming, their tears - gave him power, and Monsieur D'Arque could never have enough.

[Josette Bimbette]

Darkness.....absolute and unending inky blackness had completely engulfed the maiden. There were flitting recollections before she fell into such deep subconsciousness; a faint chuckling sound was heard from behind as the ground was rushing up to meet her. Expecting a painful impact, she never did connect with the cobblestone street. A feeling of weightlessness befell the girl. She had gone as limp as a rag doll, completely submissive to her captor.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Josette.....Josette? Blast, where is that girl!"

Droopy eyelids fluttered slowly, blinking a few times, struggling to adjust to their surroundings. Josette was face down in a grassy field.....out in the woods. There was not one storm cloud in the sky, the sun's bright rays filtered down upon her, warming her completely. Sitting up slowly, rubbing her temples she tried to make sense of how she wound up out here. That familiar voice called her name once again, perking her up. It was unmistakably Gaston's. The blonde whirled her head about, looking for which direction it was coming from.

"Gaston, where are you? Please, help me!"

"Help you? How can I help you if I cannot even find you, foolish girl!"

His voice sounded so close, but no one was around. Josette frowned at the harshness of his words. Why was he treating her in such a way? Rising to her feet with little difficulty, she glanced all around her again. She most certainly was out in a wide open field of the woods, but how was that possible? Was this actually the reality and what had occurred with the rain and the deep-voiced man the dream? Nothing made sense anymore. Shaking her head a little, the maiden began to move off in one direction where she last heard Gaston's voice. His voice had been so close, he couldn't possibly have gone far. There was quite an uneasy feeling as she trudged slowly through the tall grass, it was that feeling of being watched, but not a soul was in sight. Not even the birds were chirping. It has been known if there is danger within the woods they become increasingly silent. The animals seemed to have fled, even the wind had died down. Josette felt like she was the main target of some unseen force as she stood out amongst the open field like this. Sitting duck definitely came to mind! A deep chuckling sound occurred all around her. At first it sounded like Gaston's voice, but then shifted to something far more darker, sinister....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Inform the master, the pretty blonde fool is awake."

The girl panicked at these words, forcing her weak legs to move as quickly as possible. She headed for what appeared to her as a group of large trees in front of her. The moment she did so her face connected with a hard solid wall. More chuckling occurred, this time it was accompanied by more than one man, but neither were Gaston.

"Not too bright are you, girlie. Running into a stone wall will only give you a massive headache. Watch her closely, I will return with the master."

The scene changed so drastically it made the blonde's head swim. Glancing over she noted the large door with bars on a little window. Two men were peeking in on her, chuckling at her predicament. It then became horribly clear, she was no longer in the woods, nor outside in the rain.....she was in a fairly small room. The only object was a flat cot that was to act as her bed. Immediately she rose to her feet, running for the door, only to find it locked. The men of course laughed louder as she jiggled the handle, pleading with them to be released. Her words of course fell on deaf ears. Claustrophobia began to grip her tightly.....she was locked in this small room, but why and who had placed her here?

[Monsieur D'Arque]

"My Lord, the taxes are low this year."

D'Arque sat in his office, high above the pleading screams of the inmates, looking over some of the bills that had arrived for him to (eventually) pay.

"If we don't get enough from the taxes - to pay for the building, the land, and more importantly, the resources - then I'm afraid we'll have to resort to desperate measures... robbing the inmates? It's a suggestion. Can't believe I didn't think of that before. Or maybe charging for temporary freedom... Oh, of course not. It would be only for the moderately sane, anyway, and we would have to charge... oh, an inhuman amount. That COULD be considered robbing... What to do...?" D'Arque mused to himself, scratching his head as he looked over the papers once again. "Of course, we could always try to spend as less as possible, as well. Then again, we already do. The only reason we built the tower so high was so that we would not need much land to pay for. Not to mention we're built right above the larger of the sewer pipes, so while smelly, we do have those services... I like the charging for freedom idea... or visits!" D'Arque smiled at the thought. "I take pride in my villainy..."

There was a knock on the door of his office.

"Come in," D'Arque stated, raising an eyebrow as he looked toward the door, although he expected one of the guards to "pop" in, as usual.

As he had expected, the guard who had been put in charge of the Bimbette's cell sauntered inside, although D'Arque could tell he had been quite tired from going up the massive set of stairs to reach the office.

"Master, the Bimbette is awake," he stated firmly. "She reacted just as you said she would, although less violently than you initially predicted. Should we interfere?"

D'Arque shook his head. "I will personally see to her. Did anything happen when she woke?"

"She did slam her head into the wall," the guard recalled, letting a small smile slip onto his face as he remembered the incident. "It was quite amusing."

"I DO NOT PAY YOU TO AMUSE YOURSELF WITH THEM AS IF THEY ARE CIRCUS CLOWNS!" D'Arque roared, the veins in his forehead looking about to burst from under his wrinkled skin. He recoiled suddenly, temporarily stunned as his blood pressure had skyrocketed (It had been doing that a lot lately. He wondered why.) before calmly stating to the guard, "Resume your former duties. I will see to her. Remember that I keep a list of names. One more mishap, and... remember that promotion you have been asking for? Well, I will 'promote' you to unclogging the sewers of the corpses." Fires of rage and determination flared in D'Arque's eyes, while his veins still violently pulsed. If looks could kill, this particular guard would have been beyond dead. "Got it?"

If the guard had had a tail, it would have certainly been between his legs as he meekly nodded and scurried out of the office like a mouse, despite being a burly, intimidating man. D'Arque then stood up, appearing to be completely calm as if the previous outburst had never occurred, and casually walked out of the office and down the stairs toward Josette's cell.

When the door to D'Arque's office slammed, the entire asylum fell silent. The inmates in their pens were frozen in their fear, for if one was in the asylum long enough, then he would know the full extent of D'Arque's intimidating power. It was something one would never wish to see in his lifetime. In the chilling silence, the footsteps descending the staircase first were soft, but became gradually louder until they would echo through Josette's mind.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

Then, suddenly, it stopped. The handle of the cell door jiggled without Josette's touch, possibly to alert her someone else was there. Then, the same deep, intimidating voice Josette had heard in the dark alleyway once more addressed her, this time with a slightly amused tone.

"Josette Bimbette. Welcome. Please, do make yourself at home. Of course... you won't be leaving for a very long time."

Monsieur D'Arque always loved to play with his prey.

[Josette Bimbette]

Within the time the one guard headed down the hallway to alert D'Arque, the other guard enjoyed teasing Josette. The blonde continued to jiggle the handle, which only made the guard laugh at her louder. It of course resulted in frustrating her further, she felt like the walls of this very cell were closing in around her. She pleaded with the man, even tried her usual feminine charms, glancing out through the little barred window, batting her long eyelashes. The guard chuckled and then decided to take his teasing to a far more cruel level.

"Ya know, mademoiselle, it is a shame yer in there. Your beloved huntsman is just right out here. He'd like to see you, but wonders if you'll be able to even open the door."

Josette eyes widened like huge saucers at the man's words.

"He's here.....Gaston? Gaston! Please, help me escape from here, I don't belong in this place!"

The guard howled with laughter at how dense this girl really was. As he doubled over, laughing till his sides hurt, he heard the door of his master's office slam shut loudly. Such a savage bang echoed through the dimly-lit halls. It immediately silenced the guard, causing him to return to his post; summoning inner strength to appear as if he had been there the whole time. Josette on the other hand was frantic to get out to see Gaston. She balled up her small hands into fists, beating on the door, crying out. It was noted through her rising hysteria that the guard no longer was laughing. She strained to listen for Gaston, but instead heard approaching footfalls. The door handle suddenly jiggled in front of her, she watched dumbfounded for a moment; hopeful it was her huntsman come to rescue her.

Her smile slipped away the moment that all too familiar deep voice addressed her through the bars. It was like some powerful poison seeping in; engulfing her. Dull horror gripped her tightly as the voice informed her she would not be going anywhere for quite some time. The maiden sunk down to her knees, her head pressed against the door, blonde hair spilling all around her pale shoulders.

"Please.....why are you doing this......why....."

Who was the source behind this voice? Why did he wish to taunt her so?

[Monsieur D'Arque]

It was fortunate D'Arque did not hear the guard's taunts, for that particular guard had been extremely fortunate to brush past certain doom with such ease. Had D'Arque been around to hear his laughter, however, the consequences would not have been very pretty. Nonetheless, D'Arque had dismissed the situation, knowing his mere presence was enough to warn the guard not to misbehave in the future.

"Please.....why are you doing this......why....."

D'Arque chuckled. Of course, he was the only one allowed to laugh in his inmates' misery. For was it not he who sought out mental dominance over the town, if for an act of revenge of some sort?

"Do you not know who I am? Or have you heard my name spoken and not believed I was flesh and blood?" D'Arque paused for a moment, before turning toward the remaining guard. "Give me the keys."

Once he had received the large ring of keys, D'Arque took a moment to sift through the large golden keys until he found one in particular with the cell number engraved in its side. Gently clicking the lock, the door swung open to reveal a frightened Bimbette, trembling and vulnerable.

"I am Monsieur D'Arque," he explained, blocking the exit of the cell. "I am, as you may know, the head proprietor of the Maison de Lunes..." He examined Josette's panicked face. "Are you sad? Perhaps about... Gaston? Poor fool, thinking he's still alive... A shame he's dead. I was actually reserving the cell next to yours... just for him. That way, you can see him... whenever you like." D'Arque's grin spread nearly all the way across his face, revealing some missing and yellowed teeth that appeared absolutely horrid up close. "But maybe what you're saying is true," he added, with fake and exaggerated sympathy in his voice. "Maybe he is still alive, looking for you... looking for his poor... lost... wench of a girl..." He traced a bony finger up her neck to her chin, sending a rapid chill down Josette's spine. "And his search... will gradually have him end up here... because he just KNOWS that you simply went... oh, what's the word I'm looking for...? INSAAAAANE..." He dragged out the word for added effect, "... without him." After a moment, D'Arque mouthed, "How touching," before continuing, his voice becoming more and more intense, "And when that happens... when he finds you here... you know how I'm going to welcome him?" He chuckled darkly. "I'll tie three. Heavy. Stones. To his ankles... and drown him in the sewer!"

D'Arque cackled, before shoving Josette to the floor and slamming the cell door behind him. The dreadful "clack"s of his shoes upon the stone floor and his menacing laughter would continuously echo throughout Josette's mind, even long after he had already gone.

[Josette Bimbette]

The ominous voice continued to speak to her through the door and yet she still could not quite place it. He, on the other hand, seemed to know her very well. The jiggly sound of keys being fitted into the lock informed her that whoever this person was would be entering. The maiden widened her eyes as she scrambled back across the dirty floor, looking up as the heavy door fell open. Dim light from the lanterns of the hallway filtered in, penetrating the gloom of her cell.

Standing in the doorway was a rather tall, lanky figure of a man, he practically leered down upon her as he continued to speak; introducing himself.

"I am Monsieur D'Arque. I am, as you may know, the head proprietor of the Maison de Lunes..."

Josette shrank even further, her back now pressed against the little cot. The name definitely sounded very familiar. She had only seen this man once before.....on that fateful night when Gaston was planning to storm the castle of the beast. She also was very much aware of his place of business, but it was something not spoken lightly in passing conversation. However, when she and her two sisters were younger they used to giggle that people would go mad enough to be confined into such a facility. It even was a game they played with the local boys of the village. "Keep a clear head; don't become a loon and get caged!" The boys would make a make-shift cell as they tried to catch the girls. It was of course only innocent fun, another reason to be flirty and carefree. Now it did not seem so much fun anymore. The grim reality stood before her like some malevolent shadow, mocking her. The mention of Gaston being dead made her shake her blonde head in protest. Her lips formed the words "no" as she fought back tears.

It was then this man stepped closer to her, tracing his cold, bony finger along her soft cheek. It made her flinch, wanting to hide under the cot. His words were taunting, speaking of the horrible things he would do to Gaston if he truly does live. How silly to think otherwise! Of course he lived, she saw him for herself and he will rescue her from this mad house! This Monsieur D'Arque continued with his mockery, that horrible laugh of his rang close against her. His hands had gripped her, pulling her to stand on her bare feet as he spoke in very grim detail of what exactly he had in mind for her beloved huntsman. She struggled against his wiry frame, it surprised her how strong he was....either that or she was terribly weak.

A loud sinister cackle issued from this man as she felt herself thrown back down to the floor. The evil sound seemed to deliberately echo off the stone walls as he left her sitting there. In the midst of it all, another laughter mixed in with D'Arque's. A very deep baritone as well, one she knew quite well. It made her struggle to stand, running to the bars of the door. The only thing she could see was the shadowy tall form of the proprietor disappearing further down the dimly lit hallway. The laughter was unmistakably that of Gaston's. It was mingled with D'Arque's, but it seemed to be even closer, as if all around her.

"Gaston, why must you mock me too?"

Turning towards the cot, she moved with small leaden steps, sinking down wearily. A hot tear she had tried to hold back rolled down her pale cheek.

"Won't no one help me....."

The maiden's soft voice echoed against the dingy cell. The feeling of hopelessness was enveloping her, its hold upon her was merciless.

[Monsieur D'Arque]

D'Arque smirked - he noticed the fear in her eyes, the recognition. Of course, who wouldn't recognize the name Monsieur D'Arque and shiver? He could barely remember the exact moment thirty years ago (had it really been that long? Time seemed to fly when he was having fun...) when the grave moon cast a shadow over the place on the outskirts of the tiny village of Provence that would alone become the grave of many unfortunate denizens. Of course, people avoided that general area of Provence in fear of potentially being snatched up and sucked into the dark abyss of the foreboding building - Monsieur D'Arque's home and lair. Then again, the same effect was rumored to be created in Monsieur D'Arque's very presence, but the master of the asylum didn't mind. It was a day like this, with a fragile beauty like Josette quivering at his mercy, that made all of the fear worth it.

Completely worth it.

Of course, D'Arque wasn't finished yet. Far from it, actually.

"I'm sorry... did I upset you?" he calmly asked her from behind the door. "Perhaps I shouldn't mention Gaston as much. I still don't understand what you see in him... all brawn, no brains. But perhaps it's something I'll never understand. For now, I'll leave you to your weeping, at least, until dinner is served in a few hours."

Once he had left Josette, D'Arque's mind kept reeling with plans. Perhaps he could dress a corpse in what would appear to be Gaston's clothing, and then show the girl what had become of her beloved huntsman... or, even better, he may as well have gone and dug up the corpse himself... that would have been a pleasant sight. Yes, he would have loved to see her face when she saw the man whom she claimed was alive. The pain of the truth would drive her even more mad with grief... and it would have been a pleasure to watch her suffer.

A true pleasure.

A magnificent idea.

Therefore, D'Arque confirmed it - he was going to search his office closets for his shovel.

((After this, you can timeskip a little bit.))