Lumiere peered cautiously into the bedroom, taken aback by the destruction which had occurred within it. He had heard the beast’s rage, the crash of furniture as it collided with the wall, the wail of fabric as it was torn apart, and cries of anguish which escaped the beast. However, he had not the courage to face his master at that time. Not until he had calmed himself. Far be it for Lumiere to put himself in harm’s way. He knew the beast would never do anything to harm him, but when in a mood so foul, anything was possible. After all, it was not only the loss of Cogsworth they mourned, but that of hope. Their dream of being human again was slipping. That was plenty to grieve about.

Slowly the candelabra’s eyes travelled from the floor to the ceiling, mouth agape at the damage that had been caused. Mon Dieu! He had certainly left no piece of the décor untouched, nothing but the rose. It was there his gaze finally settled, watching as yet another petal fell. And though he had not a heart, he could feel something inside him fall. He turned to Beast who could be found looking through the bell jar at the rose, blue eyes deep in thought.

“I see you have redecorated.” He noted lightly, though was sure his comment would fall short of humours. “I must admit, I had never been particularly fond on the pink.” Hopping further inside the room, a soft clanking sound following him as Lumiere moved across the floor. “Master,” he began again, a familiar soft and well trained tone escaping him. “You have not left your room in days. We have been so very worried. It is of no good to spend such time in such a dark and dismal place.” The only light that appeared present in the room was that which radiated from the rose and himself. “Have you slept? Have you eaten?” Lumiere was not sure why he had asked such questions when he knew the answers.