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He closes his eyes and presses his beastly nose into her hair.

"I, too."
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She doesn't know if he means for her or for himself, for surely it would not be pleasant to roast even if he could not die of it - maybe especially - but she suspects for her. She doesn't know how to ask. So she only hugs him, and then slips away to wash, and comes down in a less torn dress.

To resume studying.
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And the Beast sits on the floor and puts his head in her lap.

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And he gets petted for his trouble.

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Purrrr.

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Outside, the fire rages, consumes, and moves away, out of nearby fuel that the curse will let it get.

The view out the window is a mess of choking, swirling ash.

"That's... not going to let us go outside, possibly for weeks," murmurs Belle.
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"No, I don't believe it will," he agrees.

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"I don't particularly mind being indoors - I like to go out now and again but it won't be a terrible hardship. But would you rather be able to step out without coughing? I can look up a spell - it's just a detour from learning disenchantment, is all."

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"Look up a spell," he says.

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Page page page page. She should make her own meta-index if she's going to keep detouring.

After a while: "I think this will work, and it's not hard - but it's much, much bigger than anything I've cast before."
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"All right," says the Beast.

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"You're sure? It won't just be one burst, at this level - you could be in pain for hours, maybe days."

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He nods, and smiles.

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"...If you say so."

She reads carefully through the spell. It really isn't hard, it just needs a lot of Will power.

She falls into her mindscape and reaches out for his, and channels.
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The Beast... really doesn't seem displeased about it.
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Belle checks up on him before even looking out the window, but - yeah, that doesn't look like displeasure, on either face.

"You weren't kidding," she murmurs, and she looks out the window. The ash is cleared, the fire's out. The spell didn't restore the plants, but they'll grow back.
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He flops his head into her lap again and purrs.

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Pet, pet. "It can't feel to you the way pain feels to me," she murmurs. "I can't imagine what else it could be like, though."

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"Why can't it?"

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"It's inherently unlikeable, for me."

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"But it could feel the same, and I could feel differently about it," he says.

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"...Maybe. I suppose I'd have to be able to read your mind to know for sure," she shrugs.

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"Can magic do that?"

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"Maybe. Do you want me to look for that, too?" laughs Belle.

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"I'd like it," he says.

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