Isabella has always been a quite girl, choosing to spend her time with her nose in a book. That's worked perfectly fine for her since the day her mom died. With it being just her and her dad, things have always been kind of tough, but they've always managed to make it by.
However her life gets turned upside down when Tristan becomes her partner in Chemistry. Where as Isabella is quiet and shy Tristan is famous and a well liked person. Isabella spends her time reading while Tristan spends his time balancing school and filming. While Isabella is barely making it by at home, money is nothing to Tristan. So what happens when these two become lab partners? Do sparks fly and draw these two together or do they grow to detest each other?
So I'm kind of going for a beauty and the beast themed rp here. A slow building romance that could be either fxm or fxf which ever would work, but I'm hoping for a character that is arrogant and with a thick back story as to what made them this way. Typical ES rules and hoping for someone that can post 700 chara's each post if possible, send me a taste of what you can type via pm please. ^.^ Not First come first serve
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She seemed pretty freaked out. It was understandable, something was way off here. This place had clearly been changed somehow and really quickly. Probably with magic. Tristan looked at the books, biting back questioning her on where they came from. “Sure. We can put them in the trunk. And no, I don’t know Korean. Chinese or Japanese sure, but not Korean.”
He didn’t need to ask, since she started explaining what she did know about the books anyway. From her mother? Tristan looked down at the books he’d picked up. If this was a family thing, why hadn’t she had these before? Why hadn’t her mother given them to her, and who was giving them to her now?
“Good point.” Tristan mumbled to himself. It did seem odd, but her going back seemed like a bad idea. He just wanted to leave. “Isabella, wait, I don’t know if we should stay.”
He walked back after her and set the books down. The door was stuck, which made it seem like an even worse idea to go prying. Something had happened here, and he was pretty sure it was magic. To him that sounded like trouble, some curse waiting to come down on one or both of them. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to convince her to stop,”We really should get back before our fathers notice, and come back more prepared.”
He took a breath and looked toward the front door, then back at her. If she insisted, he wasn’t going to leave her. He sighed, looking a little uncomfortable,”I’ll stay if you want, but if I’m being honest this place is kind of freaking me out right now.”
The phonetic writing so delicately scrawled on the worn paper tugs deeply at Isabella's heart strings. She stands there as the creeping pain of memories long since tucked away find their way to the surface. Memories of her parents singing to her and teaching her Korean, the beautiful sound of her mother playing the Violin out on the balcony. It's as though the symbols on the page shift into the memories, playing them out on the pages before her.
The only thing to break Isabella's trance is the sound of Tristan's approach. [#4169e1 "I don't suppose you read Korean?"] an involuntary laugh breaks from her throat as tears spring to her eyes. [#4169e1 "I'm sorry, ignore me. I'm fine, just tired is all. Can you help me take this stuff to the car?"] Isabella wipes her eyes on her sleeve before trying to stack some of the books into her arms.
[#4169e1 "This may sound crazy, but I think these belonged to my ancestors. I recognize my mom's hand writing in a few of these but I have zero idea what any of it says. Language is a hard thing to self teach, especially because my dad basically banned speaking Korean in the house after my mom died."] She admits, glancing over at the remaining books on the counter. The creases in the binding show how frequently some of the books had been used, the faded coloration showing it's age. The ancient tombs might as well have a bow placed on top of them for how easy it was for Isabella to find them.
She stops just short of opening the door [#4169e1 "This is too easy. If I'm right and these did belong to my family, why make it so easy for me to get this information now? I've been kept in the dark my whole life and now just give me all of the information I need."] Isabella shakes her head and walks back to the counter, placing the books back down and making her way towards the [i 'employee only'] door.
She tries to force open the door, getting no more than a budge [#4169e1 "Tristan, can you help me over the counter, I want to look around some more."] Isabella says, reproaching the counter and trying to clear it off, setting everything down on the floor.
“Okay. See you soon.” With Isabella off the phone Tristan had time to think as he drove.
His father or Natasha were bound to notice that he and Isabella were gone, and that he’d taken a car. So he just needed an alternate explanation for taking the car that kept anyone from guessing Isabella had been anywhere but at home and then out with him this morning.
Coffee. After picking her up he’d pick up some coffee with her then head home. It was believable. He’d just claim to have talked her into a last second coffee run on a whim.
With his plan decided he pulled into the parking lot of the ice cream parlor. He didn’t even bother pulling properly into a space, he just stopped near the door and hopped out. He was worried she’d be in bad shape again like yesterday. Some cut or scrape. If she was, she might not tell him over the phone, right?
With those worries running through his head he rushed into the parlor and stopped dead in his tracks. This couldn’t be the same place from the other night. It would take a crew to get it looking this bad so quickly. The dust was thick, too thick to be from just a few days. This had to be [i years]. Isabella was here though, and after a moment for the shock to settle he went to her, looking her over for injury. Nothing looked or smelled too wrong, just dusty. “Hey. You alright? I’m here.”
It was taking effort to keep mostly calm at this point. Even he could tell something really weird was going on with this place, and he didn’t like it. He was worried some curse was the cause and it would get her somehow.
There is an increasing pressure paired with a pounding unlike anything Isabella has experienced before swirling in her head [#4169e1 "No I'll be fine until you get here. I'm alone so I don't think I was kidnapped, I will talk to you more about it when you get here though, see you soon"] She says, despite the terror raging through her. She hangs up and tucks the phone back into her pocket, settling for hugging her knees tightly for a while to try and calm herself down.
Her mind rakes through the events that lead to her waking up on the dingy floor of what could only be the ice cream parlor. She had spent the whole night researching the existence of magic and the different ways it could manifest, when she finally stopped and laid down the first rays of day were breaking through her curtains. She hadn't even bothered to change or climb under her blankets, because she was very cozy, as if she had been wrapped up in a blanket straight from the dryer. The next thing she knows she's waking up on the hard floor, covered in a thick layer of dust.
She realizes that she wasn't kidnapped, not last night nor the night prior, she's woken up completely alone and not bound both times, if someone were attempting to kidnap her they were doing a poor job of it. She isn't sure how she got her, whether it's a result of the recent development of magic or yet another thing she doesn't quite understand.
She pushes herself to a standing, albeit on shaky legs, and looks at the items perfectly stacked on the counter. Despite being almost as old as Isabella is, the stuffed animals are exactly as she remembers them, they even smell the same. The box between them and on top of the stack of books has strange symbols engraved on it, these symbols register as familiar to Isabella but she can't recall where she's seen them before.
She sets the box to the side and begins looking through the books. There is a total of ten leather bound books, well not exactly books, more like journals. The journals are filled with Korean script, clearly written by more than just one or two people. However one of the journals is filled with a script that makes Isabella's stomach drop at the sight of. She can't process what she's looking at, no matter how long she stands there staring at the familiar twists of the letters.
She is still standing there staring at the journal when Tristan finally arrives.
Tristan had just pulled his shirt on when his phone rang on the other side of the room. Who would call at this hour and have his personal number? He wandered over and picked it up to see it was Isabella,”Hey.”
The tone of her voice alarms him almost as much as her words. She’d sleep walked or whatever it was again. He was at the door to his room before she’d even finished speaking, and he tried to sound calm and reassuring,”Alright, I’m on my way. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”
His mind was already running through his plan faster than his feet. The hall was empty, Natasha had gone downstairs. He needed in the garage. There was a window at the end of the hall. Tristan slid it open and hopped out, landing with a little bit of noise on the roof of the garage. He hurried to the edge and jumped down, then sprung forward to dart in the exterior door. He hurried to the rack with the keys and picked one. He opened the door to the basic black sedan and was on his way out. The whole thing had only taken him a minute or two tops, he’d moved fast and surprisingly quietly. He felt a dreadful sense of urgency to get to Isabella as fast as possible, before any of the adults realized anything funny was going on.
A hard and cold surface is all that Isabella feels as consciousness yanks her from what little sleep she may have gotten. Her eyes flutter open to find that she is once again not in her bed. With this revelation, her eyes fly open as she quickly tries to take in her surroundings. Sitting up, Isabella looks around the room and finds that it’s quite empty, with nothing but an oddly familiar dilapidated counter with a few strange items sitting on top of it.
She immediately reaches into her pocket, thankful that she had fallen asleep in her clothes for the first time in a very long time. She pulls out her phone and immediately calls Tristan, not knowing who else to call in this situation. As the phone rings, she slowly stands up and approaches the counter trying to get a better look at the items laid out before her.
Before her is a stack of books with odd markings, similar to the ones that she saw yesterday morning, symbols that pull at something deep inside of her that she can’t yet explain. There are at least five books in front of her, an old wicker box that is surprisingly sizable underneath the books, and two stuffed animals sitting on either side of the box, one being a mole and the other being a rabbit. Two stuffed animals that she immediately recognizes, Mrs. Ickle and Mr. Hopps, her favorite toys as a child, one of the few things she had gotten from her grandmother who lives in South Korea. The realization of where she is hits her like a ton of bricks, just in time for Tristan to answer the phone [#4169e1 “Tristan, I need you to come and get me, I’m at….the ice cream parlor I took you to the other night. I don’t know how I got here and I don’t know how to get home from here, I need you to come get me. Please hurry, I’m freaking out.”] Isabella says slinking down to the ground and holding her knees against her chest, trying to remember anything at all that might explain how she got here.
Tristan didn’t go to sleep for a while. He went to the gym and spent over an hour working out. It helped him feel better at least. He could exercise in peace, since everyone else was apparently busy with other things. He had enough frustration bottled up that it felt good to be active.
His father or Natasha were going to notice the wrecked punching bag though. It was one of those big, heavy things as big as he was, but he’d managed to punch a hole in it. He let out a yell more like a roar and punched another hole in the material. Even working out he’d have to pull his punches or someone would notice something was off.
He huffed and went to shower and soak in the water, hoping that might help. Left alone with his thoughts as the only company, Tristan couldn’t help but wonder just how much he’d ruined Isabella’s life with his ‘help’. She wasn’t shallow and selfish like girls he was used to. She didn’t like the same kinds of things. Any other girl would be ecstatic to move in here.
When he finally returned to his room, he was still too wound up and miserable to really sleep, so he sat up reading on his laptop. He’d been binging on anything werewolf, shapeshifter, or magic related since the curse was put on him. He’d found out there was an absurd amount of romance and fluff on the topic, lots of myths, and very little of substance. Most nights, especially when he couldn’t sleep, he searched for more reading material.
A bit more of that and he was ready to lie down and try to sleep because as usual, the search was fruitless and unbelievably stupid. Sleep still didn’t come easy. When it did, an unfortunately familiar dream played out in his sleep, one about a dark forest, a bright moon, and a hunt. He was running through the trees, not sure if his body was more man or beast. He could feel the blood in the air, like a path winding through the trees. The world was slowly turning red.
Tristan woke suddenly, aware of Natasha at his door even before she knocked. She hadn’t actually woken him up with a knock for a while. His senses were getting too sharp for it. He sat up before the little tap of her knuckles and her calling through the door,”Rise and shine~ Breakfast is downstairs.”
He could already smell it wafting through the house. Bacon. Eggs. Was that pancakes? What? Tristan frowned in confusion as he got up out of bed. That was weird. He [i never] got to eat stuff like that. It was usually bran or oatmeal with fruit and yogurt. Was it for Isabella? Like comfort food? “Uh, yeah, I’ll be down in a minute.”
As tempted as Isabella is to immediately get up and change into a swim suit to go and relax in the hot tub, she simply remains on her bed and says a quick good night. When Tristan is finally behind a closed door, Isabella hops off of the bed and slips into her desk chair and opens up her laptop. It takes a bit for her to figure out how to work it, but when she finally manages to get everything up and running, she begins her search.
She spends practically the remainder of the night researching information on magic, from different kinds of magic to the creatures of magic, even going as far as reading some unfortunate fanfiction around pop-culture magic. Before she knows it the soft sound of morning birds chirping is drawing her attention away from the laptop. She climbs out of the chair and simply collapses on the bed, feeling more confused than she had the night prior when she began her search. The problem is that with such a concept as magic being things of fantasy, there is no way for her to know what is real and what is not.
She looks at her hand, wondering what could have caused such a deep cut like what she had, and how she hadn’t woken up from the pain. She wonders if whoever brought her out to that spot on the beach would be able to reach her here, moreover she wonders if her mom had magic as well. Finally her mind goes blank and she’s deeply asleep.
She hit close enough to the truth that it hurt. Was that what he was doing? Desperate for connections he kept breaking off. He looked back at her out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t let her get hurt by his problems, but he couldn’t stand to just let her struggle with her troubles by herself. She was too sweet for that.
Putting it off until tomorrow sounded good to him. Tristan wasn’t sure what to say or do about it tonight. Maybe some time to figure out what to say would be best. “Sure. Yeah, knowing her she’ll have you logged in already. Go ahead and explore the house too. We’ve got a gym and two swimming pools if you want. One indoor, one outdoor, both have a hot tub. All our bedrooms have our names on them, and so does my father’s office, so just don’t go wandering in those.”
Tristan stood up and looked back at her. Laying back on the bed like that she almost looked comfortable here, which he took as a good sign,”See you tomorrow.”
He stood there for a moment, trying to think of something else to say to make her feel welcome, but coming up blank. He succeeded in realizing it probably sounded obnoxious to so nonchalantly mention having a private gym and [i two] swimming pools. Feeling a little embarrassed he turned to leave. He was too wound up to just relax and sleep. The gym and pools were on his mind now, so he figured he might as well use them.
Isabella notices that Tristan is growing increasingly unsure in how to respond and for some reason that helps calm her down. He knows about magic but clearly doesn’t want to explain how or why. He also doesn’t really know how to help her but is being kind enough to ensure that she doesn’t feel alone. She feels grateful but even more confused. She had thought that he might be able to shed some light on the situation but he’s almost as confused as she is.
She looks over at him again and sees the slightly desperate look on his face. [#4169e1 “You know, for someone who thinks he should be all alone you really are going out of your way to make sure that I am not all alone. I mean you even had me moved into your house. I think you are as desperate for a connection as I am.”] Isabella teases, nudging him with her arm.
[#4169e1 “If we are going to figure this out together, then we should try and get started, tomorrow though. It’s already been a long day and I just want to change into some comfy clothes and figure out how my new gadgets work. Natasha even mentioned a Netflix account was available to me.”] Isabella sighs and lies back on the bed, only half way telling the truth. In reality she just wants to be alone and to start trying to find out information by herself, however she possibly could.
Tristan listened patiently, his face carefully controlled and as blank as he could manage. He had guessed she’d been distracted the same way he had, keeping busy was a wonderful way of keeping the mind distracted.
When her questions turned to him his eyebrows raised up. Those were all excellent questions he couldn’t really answer. He waited patiently until she stopped talking. He could hear the stress in her voice, the way her shoulders tensed. He was silent for a moment before taking a seat next to her on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his legs and started to talk slowly, careful with how much he said,”No, I can’t do that. I didn’t do anything to you either. I keep calm in part because it’s something I’m trained in, actually. You’ve seen my father. Nothing fazes him.”
He didn’t want to get into explaining the other reason. That he had seen magic before, though a much worse sort than that. He didn’t want to scare her with the curse, she’d have a hard enough time with this magic and finding answers about it. Answers he couldn’t give.
Tristan moved on, staring down at the carpet,”I really don’t have answers I can give you. I’ve never seen anyone else do what you did. I… I don’t know what to do. If you—I mean, I wouldn’t know where to start, but I’ll help you with looking for answers, or if you just need to talk about—”
He let out a frustrated sigh. What was he doing? He couldn’t even tell her what he did know, and here he was offering help. How was he supposed to help? The only other person he’d seen with magic was the witch who’d cursed him, and there was no way he’d let Isabella anywhere near that evil woman even if he could find her again. So far he hadn’t been able to.
With the final touches coming together in the room, Isabella can hardly believe that she’s going to be living in this space. It’s bright and colorful and filled with things that aren’t needed or her books. She has a personal computer and a camera all to herself; she has a closet full of new clothes that are actually new and not just new to her. She doesn’t have to worry about stretching every penny just to be able to eat; she can almost feel a huge wave of relief wash over her until Tristan reminds her about the morning. Subconsciously she rubs her hand over her elbow, feeling nothing but bare skin now that she’s taken off the sweater. She had almost completely forgotten about the unusual events of this morning and the night prior, but now she isn’t able to focus on anything else.
She sits on the edge of the bed and simply stares at her hands, looking at the perfectly smooth skin that have no indication of the massive gashes that covered them previously. She was somehow healed, instantly. No that’s not right, she healed herself, she doesn’t know how or why she knows that but she does. She did something completely impossible with no idea how she did it, but now Tristan wants to know how she’s feeling. He had asked her a question that she hasn’t allowed herself to think about all day and now he wants an answer. [#4169e1 “I don’t know. I had honestly been so distracted by what we were doing earlier that I hadn’t thought about it. I don’t know how I healed myself. I don’t understand the first thing about that and I am afraid. I am curious to learn how I did that, and I want to know why I am suddenly now able to do that. I want to know if I can do more and if I am the only one or if this happens to others, I want to know why you know what happened.”] Isabella admits, recalling how calm and collected Tristan was when seeing her suddenly healed.
[#4169e1 “How were you so calm when I healed myself? You said we would talk about it later which indicates that you know something about what happened. Can you do that too? Did you do something to me that make it so I can heal myself? Why were you so calm?”] Isabella asks, her voice becoming more and more frantic as she continues, forcing herself to stop talking and actually give Tristan a chance to answer one of her questions.
Of course. Natasha was always prepared, but seeing her so well prepared for people besides himself and his father was a little odd. He was so used to it just being them. He laughed when Natasha practically shooed him out of the room, then went to go change.
He wanted to dress plain and hopefully not draw attention. Another set of jeans and a black t-shirt would do the job, along with a blue hoodie. It was the sort of thing he wore a lot, but so did a lot of other guys. He put on a pair of black boots to complete the casual look, and waited in the hall.
Tristan’s eyebrows raised up when the two girls came out into the hall. Isabella looked beautiful, like some sort of model. It wasn’t a really fancy outfit, but it looked good on her. “Wow. Auntie, you really are ready for everything.”
Natasha was always very well prepared. She was also completely on the same page as Tristan about not letting Isabella see the price for anything that day. A few pictures are taken of them shopping, but Tristan does his best to ignore them and keep Isabella from noticing too much. There was always some excuse, some silly thing to get her away from the cash registers. Hands covering price tags when they were visible. The receipts all disappeared into Natasha’s purse. The things for Isabella’s room had Tristan the most engaged, actively showing things to her and slowly getting to where he was able to guess her taste a little better.
After eating was clothes shopping, which he expected to be boring and a bit like torture. To his surprise, it wasn’t awful watching Natasha have Isabella try on a bunch of different things, and he even voiced an opinion every so often.
When they got home Tristan was more bored than tired, and had plenty of energy to help unpack and move furniture. He was a one man moving team, having no difficulty moving around any bit of furniture she wanted. He encouraged her to not be shy about having him move things back and forth until it was [i exactly] how she wanted it.
Tristan stretched his arms over his head and arched back as she explained about the money. That was sort of what he figured. She was clearly too frugal for a big spending trip like this to be enjoyable. He put his hand on the top of her head,”Hey, you’re welcome. And don’t worry about it. We just want you to be happy with it.”
He’d been putting it off all day with Natasha around, but for the moment she’d left to take care of some business, probably filing the receipts and checking on Julian. Now seemed a decent enough time to bring it up. Tristan started slowly, as if still not sure if he should bring it up,”So, about this morning. How are you doing with that?”
Isabella looks over at Natasha, finding that she’s actually chuckling at Tristan’s question. [#6B8E23 “You should know better than that Tristan. I am always prepared for things. You go and change; I have clothes here for Isabella to wear already.”] Natasha says, ushering Tristan out of the room. She turns around and heads straight towards the white dresser, pulling it open to reveal a slightly full dresser. [#6B8E23 “Given the weather I’m thinking something cute but warm, go ahead and get undressed and I’ll have something picked out for you. Do you need dry underwear too or just clothes?”] Natasha asks, holding clothes up to each other. Isabella can’t help but blush while she checks to see if her bra is soaked as well. [#4169e1 “Underwear as well”] She says sheepishly while taking her clothes off. She feels the need to cover herself, but Natasha works right through that, helping her put on the clothes so they fit perfectly, even going as far as adjusting the bra for her. Isabella feels slightly uncomfortable with her stomach being exposed, but Natasha moves her hands away from her stomach [#6B8E23 “You have nothing to hide Isabella, you are beautiful and if you want this job you have to know that. You are beautiful and should be proud of how you look. Now, I need you to be confident because this is the first day on the job.”] Natasha says as she moves Isabella’s shoulders back a bit and pokes her nose softly. [#6B8E23 “Come on; let’s go get some shopping done.”] She loops her arm through Isabella’s and walks her through the room and out into the hall.
Given that Natasha practically gave Isabella a makeover, it takes them a bit longer then Tristan to get ready. [#6B8E23 “So, we will go ahead and get the stuff for the room first, and then after that we will go clothes shopping, because the latter will take a bit longer than the first part.”] Natasha teases as they leave the house and climb into a large suv with tinted windows. The ride to the stores is a while on its own, but by the time they get to the stores, Isabella has relaxed and gotten comfortable in her own skin, making it a lot easier to get out of the vehicle and step into the public eye. The day itself goes by in a blur of stores and not being allowed to look at prices, getting far more then she likely needs to go in her room and items for her to use to create a social media presence, including a camera and accessories. She is put on a phone plan started under Natasha’s name with the phone she got the night before applied to the account and a phone gotten for her father. The clothing part takes even longer, with small breaks for food allotted between them.
By the time they actually make it back to the house, the sun is already setting and the movers have already come and gone. With all of their things in boxes, Isabella realizes exactly how little they had. It doesn’t take too long for them to unpack everything from the apartment into their rooms, but it does take a bit to unpack everything from the shopping trip. But as Tristan and Isabella set up her room according to her desires, Isabella admits [#4169e1 “I feel like if I saw the amount of money that was spent today I would simply cry. I know that the stores we shopped from were previously way too expensive for me to even think about going inside of. I can hardly even imagine the amount of money spent. I’m a bit grateful that you would always take me away from the register when Natasha would be paying so I wouldn’t be able to hear the amount though.”] Isabella says as they put the final touches on the room.
Inside and warm up. That sounded like a plan. He really didn’t want her getting sick, though the rain and cold wouldn’t bother him.
He could hear that the way was clear to her room. Everyone was in another part of the house talking. He was used to being left to his own devices when there wasn’t something that needed to be done.
Tristan accepted the towel with a smile, and dried his hair. The jeans weren’t going to dry quickly, so he’d have to change his clothes sooner or later. They were going to talk though. Tristan stood by the wall, the towel draped over his head. He watched her sit in anticipation, not sure how this conversation was going to go, but before she could say anything her father walked in with Natasha.
He tugged the towel down. Oh. He wasn’t expecting his father to be so pushy about rushing things. Tristan scratched the back of his head, trying not to look guilty, even though the guilt was clawing at his stomach. This was a lot tougher on both of them than he’d thought.
Tristan watched Isabella’s father go. He almost felt bad for him, stuck with the intimidating Julian Lucas all day. And Tristan knew his dad would end up getting everything he wanted.
Natasha looked fairly happy, but puzzled when Isabella mentioned pink and princess. Almost disappointed. Tristan couldn’t help but laugh,”I sort of told on you, Auntie Tasha. Um, I’m going to go change before we go. Do you have anything dry for Isabella, or should we get her something first thing?”
Anything in his wardrobe would be too big to an almost comical point. Natasha was too tall, but maybe there was something. At least to get her into something dry.
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