The Beast. That's you, is it not? I see what they see... but they don't see what I see. When I see you, I don't see a Beast. No. In fact, I see something else entirely – I see a beauty beyond compare, and that is no Beast. Actually, it rivals that even of me, the so-called Beauty. How can I be that? A Beauty. I'm no Beauty. How can I be?
I destroy things before they've grasped the handle of their own life. I bring buildings to dust, and fire to ash; I wash them all away to the bottom of rotting and decayed rivers and lakes.
I'm the Beast. Not you. I'm a beastly human, and you... you have a heart of gold. You may have made mistakes in the past, but it's me thats making them now, and that's what sets the two of us apart. You've learnt your lesson; I was never taught.
You may have claws, but I have searing, sharpened talons. You might have fangs, but I have a sharp tongue; that's worse. My eyes are of a snake... there's absolutely nothing wrong with your brown cat's eyes. You may have hair covering every inch of your body, but I have scales, I'm cool to the touch, damp, clammy... not human. My hair is stringy and matted, nothing at all like the Beauty they talk of in the books. My heart is cold and merciless – that's no Beauty. My scorpion tail drips with the intent of poison and death and decay. My feet slap on the ground as I slither.
You're more human than I am... you're more beautiful than I am, yet it's still me that's named the Beauty.
So listen here, Beast. You may consider yourself one, but consider this; what constitutes a Beast to begin with?
