Prompt: Body swap
THERE WE GO.
“This is…this is the wrong bedroom,” Plumette murmurs. She has an arm thrown over one eye, to cut out the harsh morning light that fills the room, but still she can see the ceiling, and: it’s entirely the wrong one. Hers has birds and skies and suns painted on it. This one is all gold gilding.
She eases herself out of bed slowly. She doesn’t feel nearly as light as usual; she still must be sloughing off the effects of last night, and all its honey-colored liquor. And ooh, but her face aches; it’s like all her features are in the wrong places.
Which, she quickly discovers, they are.
“Mmph?” On the other side of the wrong bed, a morning grump that sounds almost like a growl. One long, white hand drapes out from under the covers.
“Lumiere! Something is wrong! I need you—”
Plumette turns back to the mirror. The wrong features entirely. Big, brown eyes, but not as deep as her own; a sharp nose, a quick expression, furrowed eyes. Thin, mouse-brown hair that falls over her face. Or rather, Belle’s face.
In the mirror, Adam appears, roused straight out of bed. He rubs his blue eyes and yawns, eventually meeting her own eyes in the mirror.
“I’m so sorry highness, I thought you were someone else,” she starts.
“Belle? Have you seen Plumette? I thought I heard her calling me,” he starts.
Blue eyes widen and meet brown. His hand is quick on her arm.
“Chérie! It’s me!”
A flurry of questions. In the mirror, Adam and Belle gasp and kiss and wonder. Lumiere and Plumette cannot understand it. The faces have gone wrong entirely.
“So,” says Lumiere, “I look like the Prince.”
“Oui. And I look like Belle.”
“Does this mean they look like us?”
They run from the room, quick. Cogsworth sees them running by, the Prince and his fiance; and he wonders a little to see Adam gesture so much, or to see Belle flit her hands as if she wants to fly.
He doesn’t ask after them, though. He is too concerned himself as to why he looks like Madame de Garderobe.