So as the story progresses, and they start to fall in love, the curse is slowly waning and belle at points can kinda see through it. Belle looks up from her book and for a split second sees someone else sitting there. And when he smiles she sees a quick flash another person smiling at her
Twilight has begun to fall around the Beauty and the Beast as they relax in the library, candelabras and candlesticks wrapping the room in a catch of stolen sunset. Belle’s words flutter through the flames dancing on burning wicks, her eyes sailing over sentences that breathe with the life of a whimsical adventure in some far flung land with giant, wingless birds and forests that hide a great green parrot with a deep booming courting call. An alpine parrot flashes startling red feathers as it takes flight in this book’s created world.
Belle stops for a breath, her mind whirling in the creative imagery of the world inside this book.
“Are you getting tired, Belle?” the Beast asks from his seat, pulling his cloak tighter about his own shoulders. “You don’t have to keep going.”
“I’m fine, just needed to breathe,” Belle looks up, and gasps soft and low, blinking in a mix of surprise and confusion.
For a moment, she sees someone else there in that chair, someone without great ram’s horns curling from his head. A man whom, instead of hair that lay flat over the back of his head and shoulders, has soft blonde hair tied back into a ponytail with a blue ribbon. Instead of great, big black claws, the man’s nails are neat and unencumbered with the toils of a villager who had to work for themselves. When he smiles, she sees not fangs, but a dazzling flash of perfectly straight, white teeth. Her heart skips a beat, half born of confusion, and half born of some attraction to this charming, prince-like visage.
It lasts a split-second, this strange visage, a moment between blinks. One blink, there was that fine, handsome young man sitting in that chair, and the next, was the Beast again, great big claws, horns, fur, and all.
That was odd, Belle muses, I’m probably just tired, that’s all.
Though she thinks little more on it all evening, that afterimage of the handsome young man with the charming smile, soft blonde hair, and finely manicured nails burns as bright as the stars twinkling beyond the windows.