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animate-mush · 17 hours
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Happy Birthday to Laura Fairlie!
I sure hope something nice happens to you... ever
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animate-mush · 2 days
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Captain of the Enderby: Go after Moby Dick?? I should say not! I'd like to keep my other arm!
Ahab: ...okay Boomer
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animate-mush · 2 days
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Liveblog continued
"In those days the law was not so tender-hearted as I hear it is now." Second reference to changing laws...
Yeah there's aome Prisoner's Dilemma going on here
"The dress of Virtue, in our parts, was cotton print. I had silk." Another banger of a line!
I am interested in Anne too, it's not weird. As unimpressed as I have been by Walter this chapter, his general decency towards the woman in white is one of his chief virtues
There's a lot of ableism in this novel, but Mrs Catherick's ableism towards Anne is condemned at least
I have been trying to give Mrs Catherick a fair shake, but this taking Anne away specifically to spite Mrs Clements is just hateful
"a remarkably plain-looking woman, who had entrapped one of the handsomest men in England into marrying her" right Marian (ugly) takes after her mother. I think this is the first we've heard of Philip being particularly handsome though. Potentially interesting contrast to Fugly Felix
"Hating white" Mrs Catherick 🤝 Ishmael Mobydick
......I still think it's weird that Anne latched onto Mrs Fairlie like this over Mrs Clements
And this is why you shouldn't get too up in arms about how your children dress
"Anne had been more than usually crazy and queer that year," she woulda done numbers on tumblr then
You know if Sir Percival and Mrs Catherick could each stop being dicks for five minutes a lot of heartache could have been avoided
"She had always had crazy notions of her own about her dignity" God forbid women do anything
I joke but all she wanted was to be spoken to civilly and she's going to get involuntarily incarcerated about it, it's horrible
"No! I am too respectable a woman to mention what he said when he recovered himself" dodging the censors I see
"No pauper stain—thanks to my firmness and resolution—ever rested on MY child" I hate her, your honor
"she flamed out into a perfect frenzy of passion against him, going to the Asylum" GEE I WONDER WHY
I was wondering if we were going to get an Anne's Father reveal. I don't know if the fact that she's bringing it up is to keep us curious or to shut it down
Dorcas mention!!
"My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody."
The Woman in White: Epoch 3 pt 9 liveblog
Ooooh! A letter!
I was gonna say, yeah, you gotta text Marian every hour as proof of life
"she had saved "nearly a sovereign" out of her own private purse, and that she had claimed the privilege of ordering the dinner and giving the dinner which was to celebrate the day of my return." Laura....💔
How are they gonna break the happy news to the Widow Glyde I wonder...?
"The necessity of sparing Laura any sudden knowledge of the truth was the first consideration which the letter suggested to me" ...........ah
"But I owed it to Marian to be faithful to my past experience of her, and to trust her as I trusted herself." And this is why they're the better couple
"Even the identification of the dead man had not yet been accomplished" I was wondering because Walter has never actually seen him before. And honestly he didn't describe him at all. I... I don't think, based on the way Walter ended that last chapter, that there's been a switcheroo, but it would be in character
Forensics!
"But the coroner seemed to take it for granted, naturally enough, that I, as a total stranger in the neighbourhood, and a total stranger to Sir Percival Glyde, could not be in a position to offer any evidence on these two points." Mr Utterson would be proud of you and your deceitful truthiness
Ahahaha Walter has learned that lawyers don't like it when he just makes stuff up
As an aside I find the overliteral use of the word "abstraction" here utterly charming
"and that the London solicitor of the deceased should be invited to attend." Ooooh that rascally Mr Merriweather
"medical report of him declared that what little mental faculty he possessed was seriously shaken" did they literally just rule this guy too stupid to testify???
The train is too expensive... 😥 Walter in addition to your multiple court dates do you owe all those people shillings for helping you break down the door?
"Through all the ways of our unintelligible world the trivial and the terrible walk hand in hand together." Gosh what a lovely line
Walter, have you been talking to my buddy Ishmael? You're waxing philosophical. That said his shell shock is very effectively done.
"In common honesty and common honour I must have gone at once to the stranger whose birthright had been usurped" Walter you're such a good boy and also such an incredible dope.
That's our boy, Walter "chosen instrument" Hartright
Like, aren't you still just as obliged to find this hypothetical person??
...well I am glad that made you feel better at least
"and I found on inquiry that it had been left at the bar by a woman just as it was near dusk, and just before the gas was lighted." The Woman In Black
Well we can definitely see where Anne learned her Ominous Letter Writing
"You were weak enough, as I have heard, to try and save his life. If you had succeeded, I should have looked upon you as my enemy. Now you have failed, I hold you as my friend" tell us how you you really feel
Mrs Catherick sure is a piece of work, isn't she?
Okay so like... his parents were common law married. He's illegitimate, but only barely. Like. I feel like his desire to inherit his father's title and property are reasonable. He may be a rat bastard elsewhere but I don't really blame him for this
"the truth being that she was really a married woman, married in Ireland, where her husband had ill-used her, and had afterwards gone off with some other person." I see
Lord help us, is this also due to the benevolent mismanagement of Dear Dead Dad??
"If he had not been a hideous creature to look at" Oh right, Fugly Felix! I had forgotten that plot point. I feel like there's an essay to be written on grotesquery in this novel between him and Half Dead Fred
God help me I am finding Sir Percivale relatable after all the fights I've had with the DMV over my own birth and marriage certificates...
Does "seven months child" imply preemie by birth or emergency marriage?
"I was fool enough, when he told me his story, to feel some interest and some pity for him" oh hey me too
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animate-mush · 3 days
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As you may has guessed from my liveblog and lack of tags, my phone AGAIN died halfway through the chapter
I can forgive him wanting to be gentle with Marian because Walter makes it clear that he himself is quite shaken. He seems to have also forgotten how thoroughly bloodthirsty she is. But yeah the narrative has really doubled down on the infantilization of Laura with her mental illness in a way that's very 😬. Like the thing with the money gives me such mixed feelings. I get the sweetness to it that Collins is going for (because, as oft noted, Wilkie Collins is very very good at his job), but also like. That's effed up.
And I also don't like how sidelined Marian is in this third Epoch. Like, I am as happy as the next guy to have Walter back, but I do see what @incomingalbatross was saying about how the book would just be better if Marian were the main character. And I can't escape the very uncomfortable implications that Marian is being punished for her heroism in Epoch 2. She divested herself of the trappings of femininity - her too-wide dress - to climb out on the roof, and it was lying half-dressed in the rain that gave her Plot Convenient Disease. And now her penance for that is Housework Forever. It's a very ugly sort of progression which I don't see turning around any time soon. Like maybe she'll come in swinging and kill Count Fosco with her own hands, but at the moment it's not seeming terribly likely.
And yes! Yes! I have decided that the real villains of this story are Felix Glyde, Philip Fairlie, and, of course, the Patriarchy. Possibly also English Aristocracy as an institution. These dead dads have a heck of a lot to answer for.
The Woman in White: Epoch 3 pt 9 liveblog
Ooooh! A letter!
I was gonna say, yeah, you gotta text Marian every hour as proof of life
"she had saved "nearly a sovereign" out of her own private purse, and that she had claimed the privilege of ordering the dinner and giving the dinner which was to celebrate the day of my return." Laura....💔
How are they gonna break the happy news to the Widow Glyde I wonder...?
"The necessity of sparing Laura any sudden knowledge of the truth was the first consideration which the letter suggested to me" ...........ah
"But I owed it to Marian to be faithful to my past experience of her, and to trust her as I trusted herself." And this is why they're the better couple
"Even the identification of the dead man had not yet been accomplished" I was wondering because Walter has never actually seen him before. And honestly he didn't describe him at all. I... I don't think, based on the way Walter ended that last chapter, that there's been a switcheroo, but it would be in character
Forensics!
"But the coroner seemed to take it for granted, naturally enough, that I, as a total stranger in the neighbourhood, and a total stranger to Sir Percival Glyde, could not be in a position to offer any evidence on these two points." Mr Utterson would be proud of you and your deceitful truthiness
Ahahaha Walter has learned that lawyers don't like it when he just makes stuff up
As an aside I find the overliteral use of the word "abstraction" here utterly charming
"and that the London solicitor of the deceased should be invited to attend." Ooooh that rascally Mr Merriweather
"medical report of him declared that what little mental faculty he possessed was seriously shaken" did they literally just rule this guy too stupid to testify???
The train is too expensive... 😥 Walter in addition to your multiple court dates do you owe all those people shillings for helping you break down the door?
"Through all the ways of our unintelligible world the trivial and the terrible walk hand in hand together." Gosh what a lovely line
Walter, have you been talking to my buddy Ishmael? You're waxing philosophical. That said his shell shock is very effectively done.
"In common honesty and common honour I must have gone at once to the stranger whose birthright had been usurped" Walter you're such a good boy and also such an incredible dope.
That's our boy, Walter "chosen instrument" Hartright
Like, aren't you still just as obliged to find this hypothetical person??
...well I am glad that made you feel better at least
"and I found on inquiry that it had been left at the bar by a woman just as it was near dusk, and just before the gas was lighted." The Woman In Black
Well we can definitely see where Anne learned her Ominous Letter Writing
"You were weak enough, as I have heard, to try and save his life. If you had succeeded, I should have looked upon you as my enemy. Now you have failed, I hold you as my friend" tell us how you you really feel
Mrs Catherick sure is a piece of work, isn't she?
Okay so like... his parents were common law married. He's illegitimate, but only barely. Like. I feel like his desire to inherit his father's title and property are reasonable. He may be a rat bastard elsewhere but I don't really blame him for this
"the truth being that she was really a married woman, married in Ireland, where her husband had ill-used her, and had afterwards gone off with some other person." I see
Lord help us, is this also due to the benevolent mismanagement of Dear Dead Dad??
"If he had not been a hideous creature to look at" Oh right, Fugly Felix! I had forgotten that plot point. I feel like there's an essay to be written on grotesquery in this novel between him and Half Dead Fred
God help me I am finding Sir Percivale relatable after all the fights I've had with the DMV over my own birth and marriage certificates...
Does "seven months child" imply preemie by birth or emergency marriage?
"I was fool enough, when he told me his story, to feel some interest and some pity for him" oh hey me too
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animate-mush · 3 days
Text
The Woman in White: Epoch 3 pt 9 liveblog
Ooooh! A letter!
I was gonna say, yeah, you gotta text Marian every hour as proof of life
"she had saved "nearly a sovereign" out of her own private purse, and that she had claimed the privilege of ordering the dinner and giving the dinner which was to celebrate the day of my return." Laura....💔
How are they gonna break the happy news to the Widow Glyde I wonder...?
"The necessity of sparing Laura any sudden knowledge of the truth was the first consideration which the letter suggested to me" ...........ah
"But I owed it to Marian to be faithful to my past experience of her, and to trust her as I trusted herself." And this is why they're the better couple
"Even the identification of the dead man had not yet been accomplished" I was wondering because Walter has never actually seen him before. And honestly he didn't describe him at all. I... I don't think, based on the way Walter ended that last chapter, that there's been a switcheroo, but it would be in character
Forensics!
"But the coroner seemed to take it for granted, naturally enough, that I, as a total stranger in the neighbourhood, and a total stranger to Sir Percival Glyde, could not be in a position to offer any evidence on these two points." Mr Utterson would be proud of you and your deceitful truthiness
Ahahaha Walter has learned that lawyers don't like it when he just makes stuff up
As an aside I find the overliteral use of the word "abstraction" here utterly charming
"and that the London solicitor of the deceased should be invited to attend." Ooooh that rascally Mr Merriweather
"medical report of him declared that what little mental faculty he possessed was seriously shaken" did they literally just rule this guy too stupid to testify???
The train is too expensive... 😥 Walter in addition to your multiple court dates do you owe all those people shillings for helping you break down the door?
"Through all the ways of our unintelligible world the trivial and the terrible walk hand in hand together." Gosh what a lovely line
Walter, have you been talking to my buddy Ishmael? You're waxing philosophical. That said his shell shock is very effectively done.
"In common honesty and common honour I must have gone at once to the stranger whose birthright had been usurped" Walter you're such a good boy and also such an incredible dope.
That's our boy, Walter "chosen instrument" Hartright
Like, aren't you still just as obliged to find this hypothetical person??
...well I am glad that made you feel better at least
"and I found on inquiry that it had been left at the bar by a woman just as it was near dusk, and just before the gas was lighted." The Woman In Black
Well we can definitely see where Anne learned her Ominous Letter Writing
"You were weak enough, as I have heard, to try and save his life. If you had succeeded, I should have looked upon you as my enemy. Now you have failed, I hold you as my friend" tell us how you you really feel
Mrs Catherick sure is a piece of work, isn't she?
Okay so like... his parents were common law married. He's illegitimate, but only barely. Like. I feel like his desire to inherit his father's title and property are reasonable. He may be a rat bastard elsewhere but I don't really blame him for this
"the truth being that she was really a married woman, married in Ireland, where her husband had ill-used her, and had afterwards gone off with some other person." I see
Lord help us, is this also due to the benevolent mismanagement of Dear Dead Dad??
"If he had not been a hideous creature to look at" Oh right, Fugly Felix! I had forgotten that plot point. I feel like there's an essay to be written on grotesquery in this novel between him and Half Dead Fred
God help me I am finding Sir Percivale relatable after all the fights I've had with the DMV over my own birth and marriage certificates...
Does "seven months child" imply preemie by birth or emergency marriage?
"I was fool enough, when he told me his story, to feel some interest and some pity for him" oh hey me too
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animate-mush · 3 days
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Quincey: I believe in Women's Suffrage now
Dracula: Excellent! And the best thing is, when you make the women suffer, frequently the men start suffering too for free!
Quincey: :/
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animate-mush · 4 days
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[This scene still needs a beginning and an end but I'm posting it anyway]
"Papa told me to try my best not to hurt anybody."
"And you always do what you're told..." It came out more bitterly than she wanted.
He pursed his lips. "And you don't like that."
"If I was the obeying type, I wouldn't be coming anywhere near you."
"I don't think you'd like me any better if I were hurting people."
"It's not about what I like, it's about thinking for yourself. Making your own choices!" She was being inconsistent, she knew, but it felt like every frustration was bubbling up at once.
He looked at her strangely.
"Witness with me, that my foul stumbling so,
From carelessness did in no manner grow,
But wit confused with too much care did miss."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
He sighed. "Growing up, we didn't have votes. You were the one making the rules or you were the one following the rules. Father was the most in charge of course but so long as it didn't contradict his will, I could do or have anything I wanted. When Mum and I quarreled, Father always chose me. And she would get the punishment. And I learned, very young, that I didn't like it. I didn't want to be the one making the rules and giving the punishments, I didn't want dominion or devotees, or any of that. The alternative was obedience."
"Those aren't the only two options..."
He shrugged. "Maybe. But that's not the point. The point is... I am making my own choices. What happened last night may have been a mistake, but I don't want you to think it was an accident."
Lu breathed in sharply, but did her best to keep her voice steady. "A mistake how?"
He spread his hands helplessly. "I should have trusted you. I know you can take care of yourself. I know I still haven't learned all the rules. But when he grabbed you I felt like I had to do something. I'm sorry."
She boggled. "That's what you're sorry for?"
"I... yes?" His face was a mask of confusion. "Did - did I do something else wrong?"
"You could have made those bozos leave you alone."
"I could have, yes."
"You can make anyone do anything you want."
He looked away. "Yes."
"You can make me love you."
His head snapped up and he stared at her, wide-eyed. "No. It doesn't work like that."
"Hypnosis you mean? Now are you going to tell me you can't make someone do anything he doesn't ready want fo do, because I know that's not true."
Now it was Quincey's turn to boggle, staring at her with something between incredulity and horror. "Love doesn't work that way."
[Two out of the three scenes in that walk in the park thing I was working on, now edited and made more cohesive. It's gonna need one more to resolve everything]
"How come I never see you turn into a bat?"
They were strolling in the park, the last blushes of pink still in the unusually clear western sky. The nights were getting longer, but still warm, and Lu noticed that her companion yawned less than he had a month ago. The crepuscol was a pleasant time for the both of them.
"I don't know how," he told her. "Mum used to turn me into a cloud sometimes though," he offered, "does that count? It was a sort of a game we had. Although... now that I think of it, we only played it when I was being particularly loud and running all about. Still, it was a funny sort of a feeling, being all" he gestured "fwssshh."
Lu laughed. "Yeah, I had 'games' like that too. The Quiet Game, where we would see who could be quiet longer, me or Uncle Jack. I even beat him at it a coupla times. But probly, on consideration, I think he was letting me win."
"Very considerate of him." He looked at her in that wide-eyed way he had that always sent her heart racing. "Sorry to disappoint. Are you especially fond of bats?"
"Ew, no!" she laughed - but then she saw his face. "But for you I might make an exception," she conceded.
"They eat hundreds of bugs every hour," he said a bit defensively. "Maybe more. Look - there she goes - " and he pointed to a dark shape fluttering against the darker backdrop of sky.
"I gotta say - flying must be hot stuff."
"Father always seemed to enjoy it...Say! Can we go to see the..." he concentrated over the unfamiliar word "aeroplanes?"
"We sure can! Maybe we can even charm our way into letting the lads take us up in one." Another thing that would give the poor old Pater palpitations, she was sure, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Such as just how much time she spent unchaperoned with the young man he was at last only just starting to warm up to.
His face had darkened unexpectedly at her words. "I think it might be better if we just asked nicely."
"Don't tell me you'll be jealous if I flutter my eyelashes at another fella."
"No...I shouldn't think so."
"Good! It's the 20th century now, Q, 'votes for women' and all that."
He furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "What are... votes?"
She opened her mouth and shut it again. Even after months together, he really didn't know anything about the world at all, did he? "Votes are when... there's a decision to be made, and so each person says their choice - that's their "vote" - and whichever choice gets the most votes wins."
He thought about this. "What happens to the people who get it wrong?"
"Huh?"
"The people who make the wrong ...vote. How are they punished?"
"What!? No, no... they just don't get the thing they want, nobody's being punished, that's not how it works. Jeez, Q, some days I think there's something wrong with you."
She regretted the words as soon as they were out - it wasn't his fault he was what he was. But he just nodded, unconcerned. "That's a relief. But I still think it would be more polite for the person in charge just to say what he wants in the first place, rather than make everybody guess."
They walked on in silence for a bit as the stars gradually blossomed in the deepening night. It was deeply unfair, Lu ruminated, the way such a devilishly attractive guy could have the most absolutely backwards sentiments come out of his mouth. He didn't know any better - poor innocent that he was. Most of the time he was an absolute sweetheart and perfect gentleman. It was all frustratingly endearing.
Across the street a couple of young bucks were stumbling out of the public house, positively corked by the look of it. Despite all his oddities and out of date ideas, it was reassuring to know she'd found herself a young man who would never succumb to that particular vice.
To her dismay, the carousers also were apparently intent on a midnight stroll through the park. Well, they could do what they liked, she supposed - and aw nuts, now they were coming their way. As they drew near Quincey tipped his hat to them. "Good evening," he said politely (jeez, she'd swear that man had been raised by a book of etiquette).
The young man who was clearly the ringleader drew himself up to his full height. "I like your hat," he pronounced, enunciating over the obvious slurring, while his cronies giggled and spluttered. Oh no, not this - Lu hadn't had the heart to tell him straw was out of season now that it was autumn. He wore that thing religiously, it clearly meant a lot to him - and he looked damned fine it.
"Thank you. My Papa -" Howls and hoots of laughter. Quincey frowned.
"Ignore them, Q, they're just a bunch of drunk idiots." She took his arm to lead him away.
"Oh I'm the idiot, not the big baby in the stupid hat crying for his daddy."
"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Lu shot back, enraged. Quincey said nothing. The other man was damned lucky, she reflected, that he didn't know when he was being insulted.
More laughter. "Do you let the dame do all your talking for you? Is she gonna do your fighting for you too?" And with a sudden swift movement he struck the hat from his head. One of his fellows snatched it up and tossed to the third one.
"Leave him alone, you useless sot!" Lu's blood was boiling - why were people so cruel? She strode forward angrily, putting herself between them. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
He seized her roughly by her forearm, raised in admonishment. "Sure thing sweetheart." He smiled, even as his fingers bit into his flesh. "I'm sure you'd rather go with a real man anyway."
Lu cursed herself for losing her temper. She'd let things get out of hand, and there were three of them and just one of her. Her gun was easily accessible in her reticule, but she really didn't want to shoot a man for being a drunken boor. Maybe if she broke his thumb the fight would go out of him and this wouldn't have to escalate any further...
"I think you ought to let her go."
The voice that came suddenly from behind her was Quincey's, but it was ...different. Smoother, somehow, with strange overtones that tugged on the edge of distant memories. Miss, calling to her mother to come wait upon her in those same tingling tones, before she had been sent away... The grip on her arm went slack. So did the expression on the angry face that had been too close to hers. She could withdraw now, but found, strangely, that she had no desire to move, held by that same intolerable sweetness reverberating through her.
"Why don't you buy yourself and your friends an icecream?" The entranced man nodded dumbly. Looking neither left nor right, he and his fellows turned like a group of marionettes on a single frame and left the park. Motionless, she watched them go.
"Lu are you o- ...oh!" He had caught up her dropped arm and was staring at it. The crystalline harmonics were fading from his voice, but the dreamlike languor hadn't left her. Bemused, she followed his gaze to a small spot of red welling up from her inner arm. Just a nick, from their attacker's ring perhaps, but it was enough. Enough to bleed.
All at once Lu was viscerally aware that she was being held by a vampire - not an innocent, not a naive child in man's clothing, not a tamed lap-dog dutifully following her around - a vampire who had not eaten in months. His fingertips on her wrist were strong enough to crush her bones. His nostrils flared and he swallowed hard. She knew that if he decided to put his lips to her wound right now, or even his teeth, she would not stop him. The thought was at once sickening and sickeningly alluring. And so she held still and waited - waited with a beating heart.
Swallowing again, he fished out his pocket square and bound it around the cut. "I'm- I'm sorry about that." He was looking down, not meeting her gaze. "I couldn't think of any other way to avoid hurting him."
She blinked, she could move again. "I want to go home," was all she trusted herself to say.
She left him on her doorstep (still the very image of a perfect gentleman) and managed to make it up the stairs to the washroom before throwing up.
***
It was the old insomnia, but it wasn't just that. Arthur was always listless these days when their daughter stepped out late, and the effort of coaxing him down to sleep had left Jack wakeful in his own right. So when he heard the door close far below he put on his glasses and dressing gown and descended.
He found her sitting on the stairs, dark-haired in the dim light, hugging her knees to her chest, and sat down beside her.
You're home early he said when she looked up at him.
She wiped her nose on his shoulder as she had when she'd been a little girl, and then to his surprise drew back and started talking with her hands. What is hypnosis like?
He raised his eyebrows in question, but nevertheless responded: From HYPNOS (he spelled it) the Greek god of sleep. The idea is to put the subject's conscious mind to sleep, or into a state of passivity, so as to access the unconscious mind, which is more usually the source of psychological disturbance, though it has other applications.
Her face was unreadable in the darkness, her hands only marginally more interpretable. I meant more like MESMERISM
Something was on her mind, that much was clear. MESMER was interested in the therapeutic applications of magnets and electricity, he began. After it was discovered how electrical impulses in the brain and nerves -
She stopped his hand with hers, cutting him off. Not that. Trance. As with a (her fingers trembled slightly forming the sign) vampire.
Jack froze. 20 and more years had not effaced the honeyed horror of those glass harmonica tones, issuing from lips he had once loved. And she hadn't even been speaking to him. You'll have to ask your father he said carefully.
No! Her fingers snapped shut with unwonted forcefulness. I can't. She put her face in her hands.
So that was why they were sitting in the dark, speaking without sound. Gently he raised her chin so she could look at him. Do you want to tell me about what happened? When she hesitated, he gestured upward and then put on a wry expression to show that the irony of his next words was intentional: You know my lips are sealed.
She gave him a tight little smile in return. Nothing, really she shook her head.
He frowned, looking at her closely. She was unhappy, worried, angry - conflicted. She was wrestling with some problem that she was unwilling to confide in either of them. He didn't like it - but then, she had always had a will of her own. Pressing her would do no good. But he would have to watch her.
For now though, the best he could do was to arm her against whatever she was struggling with by answering the question she had asked, not the ones he merely guessed at.
The vampire trance is different from medical hypnosis. It does not require the participation of the (he stopped himself from saying victim) subject. It cannot be resisted by force of will or the workings of reason, save at those liminal hours when the vampire is weakened - sunrise and sunset precisely.
The strongest will he had ever known, the woman he had first failed to save and then failed to kill, had not been able to withstand this power, even knowing what it was. Lu hugged her knees tighter, but said nothing. He had hoped it might be some small comfort to know that succumbing to such an influence reflected no inner failing. But perhaps he was only succeeding in frightening her.
It requires proximity, he went on, unless mediated via a sharing of blood, but wild garlic flowers and perhaps some others provide an olfactory defense. (And how Lucy had clutched her flowers to her, even as she lay dying...) There is also an auditory component, akin in timbre to the harmonic resonance produced by struck glass - he paused, noting how attentive she had become - and thus can be reliably disrupted with loud or inchoate sound.
She had grown ever tenser as she watched him, but now asked: What did it feel like?
This was what he had hoped to avoid - but he had to assume there was a reason behind her probing beyond morbid curiosity, and she would not be served by avoidance. It was like the passivity of hypnosis - understanding without motivation. Horror, but no will to help or hinder. But I was not the intended ... subject, merely a bystander.
She nodded. Did the vampire know -? she seemed unsure how to continue, but Jack anticipated her.
I don't know. At the time we took her for a mindless thing - but she knew Arthur. What else she might have known I cannot say. She concerned herself only with him, though we had all given our blood. He looked at her sharply. He couldn't see her coloring by night. Lucille...
Nothing like that! She shoved her arm at him defiantly and he saw it was tied with a piece of cloth. She went on with her other hand: Take a look yourself. It was just a cut and he wrapped it up for me just fine.
That was answer enough, though he dutifully examined the now closed little cut. If she were being compelled, she would have hidden it.
You can always talk to me, he told her. It's better to talk about things, especially when you have doubts. The ones who love you will always listen. You shouldn't go into the unknown alone. Again he looked at her seriously. And if you are having doubts about someone... you should let them know. No one who loves you wants to see you pretend things are fine if they aren't.
All of a sudden she hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Uncle Jack," she said aloud, sniffling now only slightly. "I love you."
For response he kissed her forehead, then patted her briskly on the shoulder. An old old sign for "I love you too, now go to bed."
She went, and shortly he went himself, thinking about the intolerable sweetness of tingling glass
***
[to be continued...]
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animate-mush · 4 days
Text
[Two out of the three scenes in that walk in the park thing I was working on, now edited and made more cohesive. It's gonna need one more to resolve everything]
"How come I never see you turn into a bat?"
They were strolling in the park, the last blushes of pink still in the unusually clear western sky. The nights were getting longer, but still warm, and Lu noticed that her companion yawned less than he had a month ago. The crepuscol was a pleasant time for the both of them.
"I don't know how," he told her. "Mum used to turn me into a cloud sometimes though," he offered, "does that count? It was a sort of a game we had. Although... now that I think of it, we only played it when I was being particularly loud and running all about. Still, it was a funny sort of a feeling, being all" he gestured "fwssshh."
Lu laughed. "Yeah, I had 'games' like that too. The Quiet Game, where we would see who could be quiet longer, me or Uncle Jack. I even beat him at it a coupla times. But probly, on consideration, I think he was letting me win."
"Very considerate of him." He looked at her in that wide-eyed way he had that always sent her heart racing. "Sorry to disappoint. Are you especially fond of bats?"
"Ew, no!" she laughed - but then she saw his face. "But for you I might make an exception," she conceded.
"They eat hundreds of bugs every hour," he said a bit defensively. "Maybe more. Look - there she goes - " and he pointed to a dark shape fluttering against the darker backdrop of sky.
"I gotta say - flying must be hot stuff."
"Father always seemed to enjoy it...Say! Can we go to see the..." he concentrated over the unfamiliar word "aeroplanes?"
"We sure can! Maybe we can even charm our way into letting the lads take us up in one." Another thing that would give the poor old Pater palpitations, she was sure, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Such as just how much time she spent unchaperoned with the young man he was at last only just starting to warm up to.
His face had darkened unexpectedly at her words. "I think it might be better if we just asked nicely."
"Don't tell me you'll be jealous if I flutter my eyelashes at another fella."
"No...I shouldn't think so."
"Good! It's the 20th century now, Q, 'votes for women' and all that."
He furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "What are... votes?"
She opened her mouth and shut it again. Even after months together, he really didn't know anything about the world at all, did he? "Votes are when... there's a decision to be made, and so each person says their choice - that's their "vote" - and whichever choice gets the most votes wins."
He thought about this. "What happens to the people who get it wrong?"
"Huh?"
"The people who make the wrong ...vote. How are they punished?"
"What!? No, no... they just don't get the thing they want, nobody's being punished, that's not how it works. Jeez, Q, some days I think there's something wrong with you."
She regretted the words as soon as they were out - it wasn't his fault he was what he was. But he just nodded, unconcerned. "That's a relief. But I still think it would be more polite for the person in charge just to say what he wants in the first place, rather than make everybody guess."
They walked on in silence for a bit as the stars gradually blossomed in the deepening night. It was deeply unfair, Lu ruminated, the way such a devilishly attractive guy could have the most absolutely backwards sentiments come out of his mouth. He didn't know any better - poor innocent that he was. Most of the time he was an absolute sweetheart and perfect gentleman. It was all frustratingly endearing.
Across the street a couple of young bucks were stumbling out of the public house, positively corked by the look of it. Despite all his oddities and out of date ideas, it was reassuring to know she'd found herself a young man who would never succumb to that particular vice.
To her dismay, the carousers also were apparently intent on a midnight stroll through the park. Well, they could do what they liked, she supposed - and aw nuts, now they were coming their way. As they drew near Quincey tipped his hat to them. "Good evening," he said politely (jeez, she'd swear that man had been raised by a book of etiquette).
The young man who was clearly the ringleader drew himself up to his full height. "I like your hat," he pronounced, enunciating over the obvious slurring, while his cronies giggled and spluttered. Oh no, not this - Lu hadn't had the heart to tell him straw was out of season now that it was autumn. He wore that thing religiously, it clearly meant a lot to him - and he looked damned fine it.
"Thank you. My Papa -" Howls and hoots of laughter. Quincey frowned.
"Ignore them, Q, they're just a bunch of drunk idiots." She took his arm to lead him away.
"Oh I'm the idiot, not the big baby in the stupid hat crying for his daddy."
"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Lu shot back, enraged. Quincey said nothing. The other man was damned lucky, she reflected, that he didn't know when he was being insulted.
More laughter. "Do you let the dame do all your talking for you? Is she gonna do your fighting for you too?" And with a sudden swift movement he struck the hat from his head. One of his fellows snatched it up and tossed to the third one.
"Leave him alone, you useless sot!" Lu's blood was boiling - why were people so cruel? She strode forward angrily, putting herself between them. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
He seized her roughly by her forearm, raised in admonishment. "Sure thing sweetheart." He smiled, even as his fingers bit into his flesh. "I'm sure you'd rather go with a real man anyway."
Lu cursed herself for losing her temper. She'd let things get out of hand, and there were three of them and just one of her. Her gun was easily accessible in her reticule, but she really didn't want to shoot a man for being a drunken boor. Maybe if she broke his thumb the fight would go out of him and this wouldn't have to escalate any further...
"I think you ought to let her go."
The voice that came suddenly from behind her was Quincey's, but it was ...different. Smoother, somehow, with strange overtones that tugged on the edge of distant memories. Miss, calling to her mother to come wait upon her in those same tingling tones, before she had been sent away... The grip on her arm went slack. So did the expression on the angry face that had been too close to hers. She could withdraw now, but found, strangely, that she had no desire to move, held by that same intolerable sweetness reverberating through her.
"Why don't you buy yourself and your friends an icecream?" The entranced man nodded dumbly. Looking neither left nor right, he and his fellows turned like a group of marionettes on a single frame and left the park. Motionless, she watched them go.
"Lu are you o- ...oh!" He had caught up her dropped arm and was staring at it. The crystalline harmonics were fading from his voice, but the dreamlike languor hadn't left her. Bemused, she followed his gaze to a small spot of red welling up from her inner arm. Just a nick, from their attacker's ring perhaps, but it was enough. Enough to bleed.
All at once Lu was viscerally aware that she was being held by a vampire - not an innocent, not a naive child in man's clothing, not a tamed lap-dog dutifully following her around - a vampire who had not eaten in months. His fingertips on her wrist were strong enough to crush her bones. His nostrils flared and he swallowed hard. She knew that if he decided to put his lips to her wound right now, or even his teeth, she would not stop him. The thought was at once sickening and sickeningly alluring. And so she held still and waited - waited with a beating heart.
Swallowing again, he fished out his pocket square and bound it around the cut. "I'm- I'm sorry about that." He was looking down, not meeting her gaze. "I couldn't think of any other way to avoid hurting him."
She blinked, she could move again. "I want to go home," was all she trusted herself to say.
She left him on her doorstep (still the very image of a perfect gentleman) and managed to make it up the stairs to the washroom before throwing up.
***
It was the old insomnia, but it wasn't just that. Arthur was always listless these days when their daughter stepped out late, and the effort of coaxing him down to sleep had left Jack wakeful in his own right. So when he heard the door close far below he put on his glasses and dressing gown and descended.
He found her sitting on the stairs, dark-haired in the dim light, hugging her knees to her chest, and sat down beside her.
You're home early he said when she looked up at him.
She wiped her nose on his shoulder as she had when she'd been a little girl, and then to his surprise drew back and started talking with her hands. What is hypnosis like?
He raised his eyebrows in question, but nevertheless responded: From HYPNOS (he spelled it) the Greek god of sleep. The idea is to put the subject's conscious mind to sleep, or into a state of passivity, so as to access the unconscious mind, which is more usually the source of psychological disturbance, though it has other applications.
Her face was unreadable in the darkness, her hands only marginally more interpretable. I meant more like MESMERISM
Something was on her mind, that much was clear. MESMER was interested in the therapeutic applications of magnets and electricity, he began. After it was discovered how electrical impulses in the brain and nerves -
She stopped his hand with hers, cutting him off. Not that. Trance. As with a (her fingers trembled slightly forming the sign) vampire.
Jack froze. 20 and more years had not effaced the honeyed horror of those glass harmonica tones, issuing from lips he had once loved. And she hadn't even been speaking to him. You'll have to ask your father he said carefully.
No! Her fingers snapped shut with unwonted forcefulness. I can't. She put her face in her hands.
So that was why they were sitting in the dark, speaking without sound. Gently he raised her chin so she could look at him. Do you want to tell me about what happened? When she hesitated, he gestured upward and then put on a wry expression to show that the irony of his next words was intentional: You know my lips are sealed.
She gave him a tight little smile in return. Nothing, really she shook her head.
He frowned, looking at her closely. She was unhappy, worried, angry - conflicted. She was wrestling with some problem that she was unwilling to confide in either of them. He didn't like it - but then, she had always had a will of her own. Pressing her would do no good. But he would have to watch her.
For now though, the best he could do was to arm her against whatever she was struggling with by answering the question she had asked, not the ones he merely guessed at.
The vampire trance is different from medical hypnosis. It does not require the participation of the (he stopped himself from saying victim) subject. It cannot be resisted by force of will or the workings of reason, save at those liminal hours when the vampire is weakened - sunrise and sunset precisely.
The strongest will he had ever known, the woman he had first failed to save and then failed to kill, had not been able to withstand this power, even knowing what it was. Lu hugged her knees tighter, but said nothing. He had hoped it might be some small comfort to know that succumbing to such an influence reflected no inner failing. But perhaps he was only succeeding in frightening her.
It requires proximity, he went on, unless mediated via a sharing of blood, but wild garlic flowers and perhaps some others provide an olfactory defense. (And how Lucy had clutched her flowers to her, even as she lay dying...) There is also an auditory component, akin in timbre to the harmonic resonance produced by struck glass - he paused, noting how attentive she had become - and thus can be reliably disrupted with loud or inchoate sound.
She had grown ever tenser as she watched him, but now asked: What did it feel like?
This was what he had hoped to avoid - but he had to assume there was a reason behind her probing beyond morbid curiosity, and she would not be served by avoidance. It was like the passivity of hypnosis - understanding without motivation. Horror, but no will to help or hinder. But I was not the intended ... subject, merely a bystander.
She nodded. Did the vampire know -? she seemed unsure how to continue, but Jack anticipated her.
I don't know. At the time we took her for a mindless thing - but she knew Arthur. What else she might have known I cannot say. She concerned herself only with him, though we had all given our blood. He looked at her sharply. He couldn't see her coloring by night. Lucille...
Nothing like that! She shoved her arm at him defiantly and he saw it was tied with a piece of cloth. She went on with her other hand: Take a look yourself. It was just a cut and he wrapped it up for me just fine.
That was answer enough, though he dutifully examined the now closed little cut. If she were being compelled, she would have hidden it.
You can always talk to me, he told her. It's better to talk about things, especially when you have doubts. The ones who love you will always listen. You shouldn't go into the unknown alone. Again he looked at her seriously. And if you are having doubts about someone... you should let them know. No one who loves you wants to see you pretend things are fine if they aren't.
All of a sudden she hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Uncle Jack," she said aloud, sniffling now only slightly. "I love you."
For response he kissed her forehead, then patted her briskly on the shoulder. An old old sign for "I love you too, now go to bed."
She went, and shortly he went himself, thinking about the intolerable sweetness of tingling glass
***
[to be continued...]
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animate-mush · 4 days
Text
I misinterpreted the nunchuck as a mic and thought they were doing Karaoke
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Nelson V. Murdock
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animate-mush · 5 days
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I just finished reading The Moonstone, which was my antidote to stop me skipping ahead in The Woman in White, and now I feel like I have a much better handle on what's a thing for Wilkie Collins in general and what's just The Woman in White.
Foreigners are often evil? That's just The Woman in White.
You must take legal steps to keep your heiress daughter safe when she marries? That's Wilkie Collins in general.
Modernity is scary and makes everything ugly? Just The Woman in White.
Individual action is not sufficient to deal with structural problems? Oof, Wilkie Collins had strong feelings on this one.
People who think they're superior are often the most morally flawed? A big theme for Wilkie Collins too.
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animate-mush · 5 days
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#that novel sure can sensation
GOD
Fucking hell, Wilkie Collins.
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animate-mush · 5 days
Text
Phone died literally in the middle of the fight scene! 😭😭😭😭😭😭
Okay but I am back I am on the edge of my seat as to whether our boy is about to contract plot relevant Victorian Woman's Sudden Dying Disease or if he can successfully bust heads with his new levels in manliness (and this cudgel he found). OR BOTH!
Once more into the breach...
Walter running through the hedges puts me in mind of the early scenes where Anne was lurking in the hedges...
ah so this is why we got descriptions of the terrain heading upwards last chapter
VAULT!
...clever girl
Can I say yet again I love the use of weather in this novel?
"and the man with the lantern was no other than my acquaintance of the morning, the parish clerk." Age of the Clerk baby
I love this image of Walter all hedge-torn and mud-covered, emerging creepily in the dark and storm, very very like Anne Catherick right at the beginning
UH OH NOT THE KEYS! THE DOCUMENTS ARE IN DANGER
"The door of the lantern came loose from its fastening as he swayed it round, and the wind blew the candle out instantly." SIGNIFICANT DARKNESS
(Why do I get the impression something is gonna get burned down sooner rather than later...)
"I beg your pardon, Sir Percival——" he began. OH SNAP
Oh hey, I wonder if Sir Percival is Mrs Catherick's brother, and that's why she colluded with him
Walter would it have killed you to be less honest just now -_-
I feel like this encounter was supposed to go somewhere. Like there's a missed opportunity here (on Walter's part that is)
Okay WHAT is going on with this servant??
"The vestry was on fire!" CAAAALLLLED ITTTTTTTT!!!!!
(Uggggghhhh this is so dramatic and I am HERE for it)
"Oh, my God!" he said, "it's Sir Percival!" OOHHHHHHH SNAAAAAAAAP
Okay okay okay, I am torn between "karmic retribution or possibly divine judgment" and "the man who has committed two identity frauds so far is now faking his own death and destroying the evidence at the same time"
"I remembered nothing but the horror of his situation. I felt nothing but the natural human impulse to save him from a frightful death." You're a good boy Walter 💔 This is some Disney Villain BS right here is what it is. Sir Percival's gonna burst out all on fire and they're gonna have an awesome fight in the rain
"I am going to climb over you to the roof" !!!!
"I got on his back, with my cudgel in my mouth, seized the parapet with both hands, and was instantly on the roof." With his cudgel in his mouth!! Walter I am sorry for making fun of your new levels in manhood this is AWESOME
"In the frantic hurry and agitation of the moment, it never struck me that I might let out the flame instead of letting in the air." .......oh good you're still stupid (affectionate)
Walter you are being so freakin heroic right now but like. Do you even have that money??
This reads like one of those internet stories where everyone on the bus claps. UghgghhhI have no idea where this is going but dang if it isn't dramatic af
And the switch into present tense!!!
HARK!
.........either those dudes are going to be suddenly motivated to follow through with the church restoration or they really super duper will not be
"He was past rousing. He only whispered once more, "Where is he?"" HMMM. I'm gonna bet they never find the body and he got out somehow, slippery snake that he is...
"the turmoil of my thoughts was fearfully and suddenly stilled, now I knew that he was dead." ...is he though? But yeah, adrenaline is a heck of a drug
"The men came back along it with a door from one of the empty houses." Oh they've found a body
Crucial detail about the face not being destroyed...
This is what you get for your heroism Walter. People notice you
What's that? Slow building of tension in my slow building of tension novel??
"So, for the first and last time, I saw him. So the Visitation of God ruled it that he and I should meet."
.....if anyone needs me I'll be eating my phone
The Woman in White: Epoch 3 pt 8 liveblog
Walter Makes A Shocking Discovery! (Oh finally)
"I could not guess exactly what their design might be," I think their design is jumping you Walter
It's interesting that the thugs are taking efforts to make sure it's Walter who started it (through their incredibly smooth means 🙄) even though they could very easily not do that. There's lines Sir Percival is very careful to stay on the right side of
"one of whom would, in all probability, have been more than a match for me single-handed" yeahhhhhh
Oh okay there are witnesses
"the men who held me between them declared their intention of charging me with an assault" *me, chanting* law-yers! law-yers! law-yers!
"I was cool enough" were you?
(Is it bad that I'm a bit disappointed they didn't rough Walter up more?)
Oh they're for serious about taking Walter to court huh! Although this makes sense thematically - Sir Percival is very adept at using the institutions of power to his advantage
(Little do they know, our boy is on the trail of a lawyer anyway...)
"We went on to the town-hall. The clerk made out a formal summons, and the charge was preferred against me, with the customary exaggeration and the customary perversion of the truth on such occasions." Wow tell us how you really feel
Oh heck they're actually locking him up! Gosh I have gotten too used to casual violence in media haven't I...
I really like this scheme- the law's delay indeed! They don't have to win the case, what they want is the delay
"I determined to communicate the situation in which I was placed to Mr. Dawson, of Oak Lodge." !!! Okay I was expecting him to call the Solicitor, I was not expecting a reappearance of the Doctor
I love that he got letters of introduction from Marian. There's so many people who are only willing to talk to Walter because they are fond of Marian, who is apparently as beloved as she is unpleasant.
~~~networking~~~
"Mr. Dawson's kindness, and the delicacy with which he treated his prompt assistance quite as a matter of course, almost overpowered me." ❤️
Something something exploitable systems defeated by human connection something something??
Yess... yesssss! The Solicitor with the good data security and routine backups!
"I had found time to think while I was waiting for Mr. Dawson's arrival, and I had well employed it. " You cudgel those brains Wawa
"My object now was to examine the duplicate register of Old Welmingham Church." IT'S HAPPENING (a backup gets you back out!)
"He was a jovial, red-faced, easy-looking man—more like a country squire than a lawyer" this lawyer is easy on the eyes you say...
"papers that had not been disturbed since his father's death." Overretention smh
His favorite hobby is data security... dang talk about being born in the wrong century
"My hands were trembling—my head was burning hot" Spidey Senses Tingling (or maybe it's Brain Fever)
"Copy of the Marriage Register of Welmingham Parish Church. Executed under my orders, and afterwards compared, entry by entry, with the original, by myself. (Signed) Robert Wansborough, vestry-clerk." Below this note there was a line added, in another handwriting, as follows: "Extending from the first of January, 1800, to the thirtieth of June, 1815." ROB SIGHTED. (Does The Rob Die? Alas yes. RIP to the most valid lawyer in this novel) 15 years of secure backups bless you sir
"Nothing! Not a vestige of the entry which recorded the marriage of Sir Felix Glyde and Cecilia Jane Elster in the register of the church!" OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO
Okay so is it just that he's illegitimate or is his whole identity an invention? Do these alleged parents even exist?
"That space told the whole story!" DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN
"My head turned giddy—I held by the desk to keep myself from falling." SO HELP ME WALTER IF YOU HAVE BRAIN FEVER FOR REAL
*punches air* IDENTITY FRAUD!!!! LET'S GOOOOOOOOO
"The disclosure of that secret might, in past years, have hanged him—might now transport him for life" ohoho evidence of changing legal standards
......you know, a sudden left turn into Spy Thriller is still not off the table. I'm just saying.
Walter you are going to get yourself MURDERED
Oh good. Caution, yes.
"he would literally hesitate at nothing to save himself." LITERALLY
It's time for everyone's favorite gothic passtime: writing memoranda in case I get MURDERED! Let's go, Walter, document it! Age of the Clerk, baby
Oh he's not writing a memorandum, he's gonna go steal a registry. RIGHT ON.
"I was not then aware that a legally-certified copy was necessary, and that no document merely drawn out by myself could claim the proper importance as a proof." Oh nooooooooo is Walter going to get Glass Onion'd on account of improper notarization??? 😭😭😭
"and left the office, with my head in a whirl and my blood throbbing through my veins at fever heat." .....Walter this is the third time you've mentioned fever symptoms AND you said last chapter rain was coming. This has stopped being funny I am worried for your health. AND you didn't even write a memorandum 😬
Walter is now armed and dangerous
"In my school-days I had been a noted runner, and I had not wanted for practice since in the later time of my experience in Central America." Forrest Gump style
"A small misty rain was falling," uh huh
THREE men! *fight fight fight*
...I have 6% battery and am only halfway through the chapter
RUN WALTER
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animate-mush · 5 days
Text
The Woman in White: Epoch 3 pt 8 liveblog
Walter Makes A Shocking Discovery! (Oh finally)
"I could not guess exactly what their design might be," I think their design is jumping you Walter
It's interesting that the thugs are taking efforts to make sure it's Walter who started it (through their incredibly smooth means 🙄) even though they could very easily not do that. There's lines Sir Percival is very careful to stay on the right side of
"one of whom would, in all probability, have been more than a match for me single-handed" yeahhhhhh
Oh okay there are witnesses
"the men who held me between them declared their intention of charging me with an assault" *me, chanting* law-yers! law-yers! law-yers!
"I was cool enough" were you?
(Is it bad that I'm a bit disappointed they didn't rough Walter up more?)
Oh they're for serious about taking Walter to court huh! Although this makes sense thematically - Sir Percival is very adept at using the institutions of power to his advantage
(Little do they know, our boy is on the trail of a lawyer anyway...)
"We went on to the town-hall. The clerk made out a formal summons, and the charge was preferred against me, with the customary exaggeration and the customary perversion of the truth on such occasions." Wow tell us how you really feel
Oh heck they're actually locking him up! Gosh I have gotten too used to casual violence in media haven't I...
I really like this scheme- the law's delay indeed! They don't have to win the case, what they want is the delay
"I determined to communicate the situation in which I was placed to Mr. Dawson, of Oak Lodge." !!! Okay I was expecting him to call the Solicitor, I was not expecting a reappearance of the Doctor
I love that he got letters of introduction from Marian. There's so many people who are only willing to talk to Walter because they are fond of Marian, who is apparently as beloved as she is unpleasant.
~~~networking~~~
"Mr. Dawson's kindness, and the delicacy with which he treated his prompt assistance quite as a matter of course, almost overpowered me." ❤️
Something something exploitable systems defeated by human connection something something??
Yess... yesssss! The Solicitor with the good data security and routine backups!
"I had found time to think while I was waiting for Mr. Dawson's arrival, and I had well employed it. " You cudgel those brains Wawa
"My object now was to examine the duplicate register of Old Welmingham Church." IT'S HAPPENING (a backup gets you back out!)
"He was a jovial, red-faced, easy-looking man—more like a country squire than a lawyer" this lawyer is easy on the eyes you say...
"papers that had not been disturbed since his father's death." Overretention smh
His favorite hobby is data security... dang talk about being born in the wrong century
"My hands were trembling—my head was burning hot" Spidey Senses Tingling (or maybe it's Brain Fever)
"Copy of the Marriage Register of Welmingham Parish Church. Executed under my orders, and afterwards compared, entry by entry, with the original, by myself. (Signed) Robert Wansborough, vestry-clerk." Below this note there was a line added, in another handwriting, as follows: "Extending from the first of January, 1800, to the thirtieth of June, 1815." ROB SIGHTED. (Does The Rob Die? Alas yes. RIP to the most valid lawyer in this novel) 15 years of secure backups bless you sir
"Nothing! Not a vestige of the entry which recorded the marriage of Sir Felix Glyde and Cecilia Jane Elster in the register of the church!" OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO
Okay so is it just that he's illegitimate or is his whole identity an invention? Do these alleged parents even exist?
"That space told the whole story!" DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN
"My head turned giddy—I held by the desk to keep myself from falling." SO HELP ME WALTER IF YOU HAVE BRAIN FEVER FOR REAL
*punches air* IDENTITY FRAUD!!!! LET'S GOOOOOOOOO
"The disclosure of that secret might, in past years, have hanged him—might now transport him for life" ohoho evidence of changing legal standards
......you know, a sudden left turn into Spy Thriller is still not off the table. I'm just saying.
Walter you are going to get yourself MURDERED
Oh good. Caution, yes.
"he would literally hesitate at nothing to save himself." LITERALLY
It's time for everyone's favorite gothic passtime: writing memoranda in case I get MURDERED! Let's go, Walter, document it! Age of the Clerk, baby
Oh he's not writing a memorandum, he's gonna go steal a registry. RIGHT ON.
"I was not then aware that a legally-certified copy was necessary, and that no document merely drawn out by myself could claim the proper importance as a proof." Oh nooooooooo is Walter going to get Glass Onion'd on account of improper notarization??? 😭😭😭
"and left the office, with my head in a whirl and my blood throbbing through my veins at fever heat." .....Walter this is the third time you've mentioned fever symptoms AND you said last chapter rain was coming. This has stopped being funny I am worried for your health. AND you didn't even write a memorandum 😬
Walter is now armed and dangerous
"In my school-days I had been a noted runner, and I had not wanted for practice since in the later time of my experience in Central America." Forrest Gump style
"A small misty rain was falling," uh huh
THREE men! *fight fight fight*
...I have 6% battery and am only halfway through the chapter
RUN WALTER
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animate-mush · 5 days
Text
Quincey: so your father, Lord Godalming, owns one of these "votes"
Lu: yes, as a member of the House of Lords
Quincey: and someday he'll give it to you
Lu: well, no, because I'm adopted
Quincey: you are???
Lu: obviously?? You don't think the Pater and Uncle Jack made me themselves do you?
Quincey: well why not?
Lu: because they're both - no, no, surely someone before me has explained to you where babies come from
Quincey: from moth- ohhhhhhh. Oh I see
Lu: oh thank God. So I'm their daughter legally but since we don't share any blood I can't inherit the title
Quincey: Well that seems easy to fix
Lu: excuse me
Quincey: if not sharing blood is the problem, why don't you just share some?
Lu: no, like, you either do or you don't, you can't just -
Quincey: I'm not suggesting eating each other, I know you guys don't do that, but you could like, I dunno, get a tube?
Lu: it very much does not work like that. And even if it did, they still wouldn't let me in because I'm a girl
Quincey: well that hardly seems fair
Lu: thank you! I think so too!
36 notes · View notes
animate-mush · 5 days
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With the discussion of titles going extinct, it occurs to me that Arthur must be under tremendous pressure to marry and produce heirs of his body. Not only is it socially expected, not only is it an unquestioned assumption of his upbringing, but it's also his duty to his family and his house. As the Designated Survivor, he must be painfully aware that he's the last Lord Godalming - a title he wasn't ready for in the first place but has to take care of now he's got it.
So I wonder if once Jack is stable, once his Deep Mourning is starting to raise eyebrows instead of attract sympathy, he makes a real genuine effort to find someone to marry. (And Jack has no call to object, marrying women is what you DO, after all). And it's not exactly hard to find someone, he's still London's most eligible bachelor, his peers (who are literal Peers) are practically throwing their daughters at him - even with the whispers that he murdered his last bride on their wedding night (and...didn't he?)
And it's hard for him to smile and dance and court and play tennis and go to the pops and all those things that used to be so easy with people who don't know that the monsters are real (and still out there...) But it's his whole job right now and he gives it his best. Maybe he even marries one of them (Jack is his best man) before realizing that he can't bring himself to go any farther down this path. Maybe he sees his new bride veiled in white at the altar and he's back in the tomb, stake and hammer in his hands. Or maybe they make it as far as the bedroom before the Horrors crowd in on him and he realizes there are some duties he will never be equal to.
Maybe it's almost a relief when they discover evidence of a vampire in Picadilly, and a duty he might just be able to fulfill
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animate-mush · 6 days
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🔥🔥This is Fine☕️🔥🔥
Overindulgence
A Blood of My Blood-inspired fic for the peer review of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush! Set when Quincey is a toddler, inspired by this art, and by my thoughts of how Mina might've borne the brunt of Dracula's cruelty and manipulation, especially early on in their time at the castle.
CW for abusive relationships, mental/emotional abuse, mental manipulation and mind control, violence, blood, injury and mild gore, violent threats, and violence/murder fantasies. (It ends on a somewhat hopeful note, but it's a rough ride getting there.)
~~~
I wish to spend more time with my husband.
It was a simple request, brought humbly— or as humbly as she could manage— before her lord. Time had softened her to the unyielding lines of his will, made her realize that outright rebellion was met with swift punishment. As her husband sacrificed for her, so she sacrificed for him, and they both sacrificed for their son, humbling their own will to their master's hand so that harmony would reign in the household. That's what marriage was, wasn't it?
And yet, she found herself greedy. Her longing for her husband had never gone away, and she wanted to be able to see him without having to beg for permission each time.
Her master, lounging in his chair by the fire while she stood before him with hands folded, quirked his lips in amusement. "My child, you have spent many long hours in the company of your husband since the two of you have come into my household. What has created this greed in you for more?"
Hours, yes, if all were totaled together. Hours spent in snippets and minutes, when they were allowed, the two of them acting out husband and wife for her master's amusement. She tried not to dwell on these thoughts; her lord was in her mind, seeing everything she thought, and she must remain submissive if she was to achieve her ends.
I wish to spend time with him more than just our feeding. I enjoy passing time in his company.
"Come here."
She balked for a moment, then stepped closer, her bare feet soundless on the stone. She didn't like that her lord was sitting— lounging— while she stood, as if she were a child no older than the toddler she was raising. He kept drawing her with his mind until she stood right up against him, his parted knees gently touching the sides of her legs as he leaned back in his chair. 
"And what will you do, should I grant you this request? Do you intend to sneak tastes of him while I am away?"
Of course not, my lord. I would never drink from him without your permission.
"So what do you intend to do?"
She didn't like standing here, pinned between his knees, his red eyes looking up into hers with something like amusement. He was toying with her for no reason— he never took her seriously. To him she was just the mother of his heir, the woman who happened to live in the household and was only useful for snatching away her young child when he got too noisy or bothersome. 
She tried to hold back her daydreams of bashing her lord's skull in.
I wish to speak with him, to read books together, to speak of our son and of our life here. I wish to hold his hand and to keep him from becoming lonely in the long hours when he is not carrying out your will. 
"He can read books just as well by himself, and if you ever wish to discuss your son, you may bring it up with me. And what wish have you to hold his hand? Do you crave warmth?"
I crave my husband, she thought, before she could stop herself.
"Crave. What a fascinating word. What unrelenting hunger it evokes. And what of it, Wine-Press? How can you be sure this craving will not lead to disobedience?"
She felt his thoughts force their way into her mind. She instinctively resisted before allowing him in— fighting him just made the punishment worse. Though he watched her thoughts, he did not often intrude, but when he did, it was usually to inflict fear. 
As long as she was obedient, her thoughts stayed her own.
When she disobeyed, his mind rushed into hers like the current of a diverted river, destroying everything in its wake.
The thoughts he pressed upon her were images, sharp as recent memories: usually scenes of violence, her husband or son being torn limb from limb by the wolves, or being tortured by their lord while she was forced to watch. 
He never made good on the threats; he seemed to entertain a genuine fondness for both her loves, particularly her son. But he had no such regard for her. He tormented her casually, as a careless child might pluck the legs off an insect.
She never told her husband about this punishment, fearing that he would lash out against their lord and endanger all of them. His burden to bear was keeping enough blood in his body to sustain them; her burden was enduring the punishment against her that their lord meted out. 
The only way she could endure this disinterested cruelty was knowing it was a sign that he never considered her a threat.
She tried to not ever let the thought fully form that he would regret underestimating her.
This time, though, the thought that he pushed into her mind was of a very different kind: an image of her drinking from her husband without their lord's permission, her husband gasping in pleasure under her kisses.
This is not my thought, she told him levelly, but the vision of the two of them entwined, without their lord's watchful eye, made an ache form in her chest where her heart used to beat.
"And yet it is your desire, I can see plain on your face." Her lord was staring up into her eyes now, his gaze keen but amused; he was reveling in this. She stood still at stone, determined not to tremble as he kept her pinned between his knees.
I would not steal that which is yours, she responded, trying to keep her thoughts calm even as the intruding thought played out the scene before her. Her husband was writhing in pleasure, whispering, I am only yours, Mina, only yours…
She looked sharply at her lord, unable to contain her frustration. I know he is not only mine, lord. He is yours, and I am yours, and our son is yours, and all in this castle is yours. I do not deny it! I have learned this hard lesson. I implore you to trust me.
"Trust you?" he echoed, his smile even more amused than before. "You, who have been defying my will since you arrived here? You, who daily entertain thoughts of driving a stake through my heart? You, who flinch each time I speak with my heir, whose mind burns like fire when I partake of the one who has agreed to be my sustenance?" He suddenly stood, and she stumbled back to catch her balance as he towered over her. "What makes you think you have earned my trust, child?"
It was useless to argue with him, to point out the injustice of his accusations, so she didn't even try. Instead, she took another step back and slowly sank to her knees, then pressed her forehead to the stone floor at his feet. I trust in your mercy, my lord. I humbly beg you to grant my request.
His satin shoe glided along her cheek, and nudged its way under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. He gaze down with something like fondness, but the sharp glitter in his eye made a shiver pass through her. 
"How I love to see you grovel," he murmured.
She caught and banished the thought of ripping his body apart with her bare hands.
"Very well," he said, and turned, his foot dropping away from her chin. He stooped and held out his hand in a chivalrous manner. She would rather tear off one finger at a time than take it, but she sat up and slipped her hand into his, allowing him to help her to his feet. He rarely touched her physically, but it didn't matter— he was already in her mind, leaving never a thought or a moment alone. 
"We shall dine early tonight," her lord told her as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and began to walk toward her husband's chambers. "We shall each have our kisses, and then you may spend as much time with your husband as you wish."
She felt a pit in her stomach. Something was wrong— she knew he would not give in so easily. There must be some plan at work here. In her mind she gazed at the wall of fire that separated her thoughts from his. He could see everything in her mind, but she could see nothing in his. She only had her instincts to know that some terrible mischief was afoot.
They climbed the stairs in silence, his arm crushing her hand against his side. He walked into her husband's room without knocking, as usual, and they found him sitting at the window with their son in his lap. He looked up in surprise to see both of them there.
"Mum!" her son cried. "Papa is reading me the princess book!"
Despite the fear coiling inside, she smiled. He was referring to a book of fairy-tales that her husband often read their son, sometimes with her projecting images of the story into his mind. The fair princess of the tale always had silver hair and beautiful blue eyes, and the rescuing knight flowing black hair and a kind smile. The dragon always died.
"I— is everything all right?" her husband asked, his eyes widening with uncertainty as his gaze flicked between her and her lord. Between them, their son squirmed out of his papa's arms and raced forward, bowing from the waist as he'd been taught and saying, "Hello, Father."
"Hello, my little diavol," her lord said, with the fondness that couldn't be feigned, ruffling the boy's black hair. He raised his head to address her husband. "Nothing is amiss, my friend— we have just come to dine early tonight."
"Kisses!" her son shouted, jumping up and down with excitement. "Kisses kisses kisses!"
She quickly shushed him, pulling him against her side with her free hand. Her husband shut the book he'd been reading and stood up, fumbling with his collar and tie. "Of course, my lord. I am sorry I wasn't properly prepared. Just one moment."
Go out into the hall and wait your turn, she told her son, but her lord immediately intervened. "No. Stay here. You will have your turn soon." She tensed, uncertain what this might mean— but trying not to let on to her son that she was feeling tense. Why did he want the boy here? 
He let go of her hand and walked toward her husband, who had removed his collar and tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, exposing his pale throat. The bruises from the last feeding were still purple on his skin, and she felt fear running like ice up and down her spine. He was already a bit weak from last feeding…
Her husband stood very still as their lord circled behind him, and her husband looked at her with wide eyes, as if to ask what was going on. Usually their lord fed standing in front, not from behind.
I don't know, was all she could say, shielding the thought from their son. I don't know.
Their lord slid his hand into her husband's hair and tilted his head to the side, looking at her deliberately over his exposed neck. She was rooted to the ground, trying not to clench too hard on their son's shoulder. Her lord breathed on her husband's neck, and he shivered.
"Papa…?" their son said, a bit hesitantly.
He's fine, she immediately assured him. Father is just going to kiss him, as usual. Isn't that right, Papa?
"Yes," her husband said, and he did an admirable job keeping the fear out of his voice. "And then whose turn will it be?"
"Mum's, and then mine!" the boy said, excited again. 
She watched their lord teasing at his ear, mouthing over his skin. Her husband had broken out in a sweat. What was he doing?
When their lord bit down, her husband shrieked.
It was a short, unexpected sound that froze her down to her feet. Her son startled and cried out in alarm, and a flood of tears leaked from her husband's eyes as he coughed out another sound, and another, to try to make it sound like he was laughing. She felt ice in her lungs as she numbly watched their lord champ at her husband's neck like a wild animal, sending a spasm of pain over her husband's face with each movement. Precious blood seeped out of the messy wounds, running down into his white shirt. Their lord had never hurt him like this before— not this badly, not in front of the child.
She was moving toward them before she knew what she was doing.
"Mina, stop!" her husband gasped.
She stopped. Her lord looked up at her over her husband's bleeding shoulder, digging his fangs in deeper and making a tremor of pain go through her husband's body.
"It is his right," her husband said, and tears flowed down his face even as he grimaced a smile. "Don't stop him."
"What's going on, Mum?" her son asked, clinging to her skirt.
She forced a thought in her son's direction with one half of her mind. It's all right. Papa's fine. See? He's smiling! With the other half of her mind, she had rushed to the wall of fire that divided her mind from her lord's, and was tearing at it with her hands. Stop hurting him! Stop! Hurt me instead! STOP!
"I'm scared," her son whimpered.
"It's all right, son," her husband said again, his voice with pain as their lord kept gnawing on his neck, moving down to the meat of his shoulder, leaving bleeding bite marks all the way. 
Her lord locked eyes with her, his eyes gleaming with amusement. From behind the wall of fire, she heard laughter.
She started to move forward again, but her husband stared at her with terror radiating from his white face. "Mina, please."
She hesitated.
Her son hung on her skirts, behind her. Her husband stared her down, his face set, tears gleaming like silver over his forced smile. "Please," he whispered. "Don't."
He asked for so little. She could do this.
So she stood there. She stood there and told her son that it was all right, as their lord ripped and tore at her husband's flesh, as he lapped up mouthful after mouthful of precious blood— too much, he was taking too much!— as the color drained from her husband's face. 
She stared into her husband's eyes. Say the word, my love, and I will kill him.
Through the convulsing jaws on his neck, her husband shook his head ever-so-slightly. Hers was an empty threat, empty, empty, and they all knew it. She was not strong enough. Not yet. But when she was strong enough, she would take their captor apart piece by piece, burn him with fire until only ash remained, scrape him down to nothing.
Her lord looked up, and loosed his fangs long enough to chuckle. He seemed so amused by her fantasies of killing him. He did not know that this was a certainty in his future. She would make sure of that. 
At last, she backed away from the wall of fire in her mind. She imagined herself sitting on her knees, bowing once more with her face to the ground, even as her physical body stayed upright.
My lord, I beg you. Her plea was no longer desperate, only heartfelt. Please stop.
Her husband whimpered in pain as their lord sucked up another mouthful. Stop what? her lord said. Is it not my right to drink of him as I will?
Of course it is. But I beg of you to stop. I will do anything.
Her lord paused, his gaze piercing her across her husband's shoulder. His thoughts crawled into her mind, sending images of her chained to a wall, nailed down in a coffin for days without sustenance, separated from her son. Anything?
She gulped, refusing to let her tears fall. Name it, and I will do it. 
He chuckled and dug in his teeth again, sending another barrage of images her way. Of her groveling at his feet for hours, of her lying on a table as he used a hammer and mallet to shatter each of her bones, one by one. Anything at all, my wine-press?
She clenched her fist so hard the bones might crack, even as her other hand ran soothingly through her son's hair. Anything.
He released his teeth, and her husband crumpled to the floor like paper in a fire. Her son rushed to his side, but she was frozen in place, eyes locked with their lord as he wiped blood from his mouth with his sleeve. His face was flushed and ruddy, devoid of wrinkles and even his beard— he looked no older than a teenager now, rolled back in time through the precious blood of her husband.
She had not looked into a mirror in years, but in that moment, staring at his flowing black hair and his smooth face, those clever eyes, that grinning mouth… she thought she remembered that this was what her own face looked like.
She snarled before she could stop herself. In the background, she heard her husband laughing unsteadily and choking out words for their son, telling him that everything was all right, that it was all a funny joke, that Father had gotten a little carried away with his kisses— oops! 
She looked at her lord, hands folded, willing her body not to tremble, chasing away the thoughts that wanted to burn and main and kill. What would you have me do?
He smiled, his face looking eerie with its youthful cast. His voice came through her mind like a hot knife. There is nothing I want from you, my useless bitch. Take your time with your husband— you will never possess him the way I do.
She stared down at her husband, who was half-collapsed, still trying to soothe their son while steadying himself with one hand, and she wished that she could howl with anger.
Her lord opened his mouth and spoke aloud, his voice higher and younger than usual. "Now it is your turn to kiss, my dear."
It was permission to touch him, permission to rush to his side and help him up and onto his bed, their son still clinging to him and looking worried. Her husband moved under her hands like a rag doll, panting in pain, his face pulled taught, his eyes glassy, his skin so pale it was almost grey. 
Her lord was watched her keenly as she lapped up the blood running in rivulets from each of his wounds, trying to get the precious blood without taking any more than he had already lost, and perhaps ease the bleeding a bit in the meantime. Her lord could easily drink with barely a mark left behind, but here her husband's skin was ravaged, bits of gore sticking up from his pale flesh, the bite-marks messy and half-shredded. She would not allow herself to weep, not when their son was watching.
"And now your turn, my son," their lord said from behind her. She turned, aching to contradict him, but she knew she could not.
Hesitantly, their son climbed up onto the bed. "Are you all right, Papa?" he asked carefully. 
"Of course," her husband said in a faint voice, trying to hold out his wrist, but he was too weak to do so. She took his wrist gently and held it before their son.
Just a little sip, she told him.
"Nonsense," their lord said, his voice sharp. "He is a growing boy. Drink as much as you wish, my son."
Looking confused and still a bit scared, the boy sank his teeth into her husband's wrist and began to drink. She stared at him, feeling each drop leaving her husband's body as physical pain. Her husband was trembling, and it was all she could do to keep from tearing her son away from him.
After a couple small mouthfuls, he pulled away, looking uncertainly from parent to parent for approval.
"Drink more," their lord said. "You must be hungry."
"I am, but Papa…"
"Papa is fine, don't you see? Isn't that right, Papa?"
"Y-yes," her husband whispered, his eyes almost lolling back in his head. 
The boy took another few mouthfuls. She dug her fingers into the covers, feeling like she was going to scream. 
When he pulled off, their lord smiled at him. "Now, my child, I will put you to bed tonight."
"Really?" the boy said, his face lighting up with wonder. 
"Of course. I promised your Mum that she and your Papa would be allowed to spend time together." Their lord strode forward and plucked their son from the bed, cradling him and giving him a little tickle in his side that made him giggle. "Perhaps I shall tell you a bedtime story, of a brave dragon who taught those who wished to slay him their place in the order of things. Would you like that, my little one?"
"Yes!" the boy said, snuggling into his Father's arms. She saw that he was safe from the punishment, then; her husband alone had borne the weight of her impudence. 
Cradling her son, her lord left the room, turning to give them both a smirk on that too-young face before shutting the door behind him.
"Mina…" her husband whispered, and fell limp on the bed.
She spent a long, long day doing everything she could to keep him alive. She had treated an infected wound of his before, and dug out the yarrow she had dried the previous year, heating up water on the stove and making a poultice with shaky hands. She tore up her clothes to bandage him, she held him close, she whispered soothing thoughts into his mind, she mesmerized him so that he thought he was home in England and not in this castle. 
The sun rose and fell, and exhaustion tugged on her, but she stayed with her husband, her tears wetting his silver hair with red.
In the evening, he opened his eyes, and he was alive, if very, very weak. He was surprised to see her lying beside him; they had not woken up beside each other since their first night together at the castle.
"Does he know you're here?" her husband whispered.
She curled up beside him, holding him close. Of course he knows. He knows all. And he has permitted this— at least for now. She wanted to say I am sorry, but she didn't know how to begin explaining that her greed had nearly gotten him killed. So instead she held him, and whispered soothing words. He tucked his head against her breast, and they laid there, his body warm and fragile and near.
They were not kept apart after that. She was free to visit him, as long as she asked her lord's permission first. Whether she had passed some sort of test, or if tormenting her in that way had become boring to him, she did not ask.
Someday, though, they would be free of their lord. Someday, she herself would cast off their yoke and cut their captor to pieces, and she would fully claim what was hers.
It was only a matter of time.
~~~
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animate-mush · 6 days
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I wrote a conversation with Jack. Connecting the dots is not his strong suit, but maybe in this case that's a feature not a bug.
It was the old insomnia, but it wasn't just that.  Arthur was always listless these days when their daughter stepped out late, and the effort of coaxing him down to sleep had left Jack wakeful in his own right.  So when he heard the door close far below he put on his glasses and dressing gown and descended.
He found her sitting on the stairs, dark-haired in the dim light, hugging her knees to her chest, and sat down beside her.
You're home early he said when she looked up at him.
She wiped her nose on his shoulder as she had when she'd been a little girl, and then to his surprise drew back and started talking with her hands.  What is hypnosis like?
He raised his eyebrows in question, but nevertheless responded: From HYPNOS (he spelled it) the Greek god of sleep.  The idea is to put the subject's conscious mind to sleep, or into a state of passivity, so as to access the unconscious mind, which is more usually the source of psychological disturbance, though it has other applications.
Her face was unreadable in the darkness, her hands only marginally more interpretable.  I meant more like MESMERISM
Something was on her mind, that much was clear.  MESMER was interested in the therapeutic applications of magnets and electricity, he began. After it was discovered how electrical impulses in the brain and nerves -
She stopped his hand with hers, cutting him off.  Not that.  Trance.  As with a (her fingers trembled slightly forming the sign) vampire.  What does it feel like?
Jack froze.  20 and more years had not effaced the honeyed horror of those glass harmonica tones, issuing from lips he had once loved.  And she hadn't even been speaking to him.  You'll have to ask your father he said carefully. 
No!  Her fingers snapped shut with unwonted forcefulness.  I can't.  She put her face in her hands.  
So that was why they were sitting in the dark, speaking without sound.  Gently he raised her chin so she could look at him.  Do you want to tell me about what happened?  When she hesitated, he gestured upward and then put on a wry expression to show that the irony of his next words was intentional: You know my lips are sealed.
She gave him a tight little smile in return.  Nothing, really she shook her head.  
He frowned, looking at her closely.  She was unhappy, worried, angry - conflicted.  She was wrestling with some problem that she was unwilling to confide in either of them.  He didn't like it  - but then, she had a;ways had a will of her own.  Pressing her would do no good.  But he would have to watch her.
For now though, the best he could do was to arm her against whatever she was struggling with by answering the question she had asked, not the ones he merely guessed at.
The vampire trance is different from medical hypnosis.  It does not require the participation of the (he stopped himself from saying victim) subject.  It cannot be resisted by force of will or the workings of reason, save at those liminal hours when the vampire is weakened - sunrise and sunset precisely.  It requires proximity, unless mediated via a sharing of blood, but wild garlic flowers and perhaps some others provide an olfactory defense.  It can be effected passively, even in sleep.  When actively deployed, it has an auditory component, akin to the harmonic sequence produced by struck glass, and thus can be reliably disrupted with loud or inchoate sound.  He paused, noting how attentive she had become.  My experience is only with this last.  I was nearby, and while I did not understand myself to be entranced, neither did I stir myself to action on behalf of the ...subject.  It was like the passivity of hypnosis - understanding without motivation.
She nodded.  Did the vampire know -? she seemed unsure how to continue, but Jack anticipated her.
I don't know.  At the time we took her for a mindless thing - but she knew Arthur.  What else she might have known I cannot say.  But she concerned herself only with him, though we had all given our blood.  He looked at her sharply.  He couldn't see her coloring by night. Lucille...
Nothing like that!  She shoved her arm at him defiantly and he saw it was tied with a piece of cloth.  She went on with her other hand: Take a look yourself.  It was just a cut and he wrapped it up for me just fine.  
That was answer enough, though he dutifully examined the now closed little cut.  If she were being compelled, she would have hidden it.  
You can always talk to me, he told her.  It's better to talk about things, especially when you have doubts.  The ones who love you will always listen.  You shouldn't go into the unknown alone.  Again he looked at her seriously.  And if you are having doubts about someone... you should let them know.  No one who loves you wants to see you pretend things are fine if they aren't.  
All of a sudden she hugged him tightly.  "Thank you, Uncle Jack," she said aloud, sniffling now only slightly.  "I love you."
For response he kissed her forehead, then patted her briskly on the shoulder.  An old old sign for "I love you too, now go to bed."
She went, and shortly he went himself, thinking about the intolerable sweetness of tingling glass.  
WIP Wednesday - a walk in the park
"So, can you turn into a bat?"
They were strolling in the park, the last blushes of pink still in the unusually clear western sky.  The nights were getting longer, but still warm, and Lu noticed that her companion yawned less than he had a month ago.  They'd found that the crepuscol was a pleasant time for the both of them.
"I don't think so," he told her.  "Why, are you especially fond of bats?"
"Ew, no!" she laughed  - but then she saw his face.  "But for you I might make an exception," she conceded.
"They eat hundreds of bugs every hour," he said a bit defensively.  "Maybe more.  Look - there she goes - " and he pointed to a dark shape fluttering against the darker backdrop of sky.  
"I gotta say - flying must be hot stuff."
"Father always seemed to enjoy it...Say!  Can we go to see the..." he concentrated over the unfamiliar word "aeroplanes?"
"We sure can!  Maybe we can even charm our way into letting the lads take us up in one."  Another thing that would give the poor old Pater palpitations, she was sure, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.  Such as just how much time she was spending unchaperoned with their mild-mannered guest.
His face had darkened unexpectedly at her words.  "I think it might be better if we just asked nicely."
"Don't tell me you'll be jealous if I flutter my eyelashes at another fella."
"No...I shouldn't think so."  
"Good!  It's the 20th century now, Q, 'votes for women' and all that."
He furrowed his brow in puzzlement.  "What are... votes?"
She opened her mouth and shut it again.  He really didn't know anything about the world at all, did he?  "Votes are when... there's a decision to be made, and so each person says their choice - that's their "vote" - and whichever choice gets the most votes wins."
He thought about this.  "What happens to the people who get it wrong?"
"Huh?"
"The people who make the wrong ...vote.  How are they punished?"
"What!?  No, no... they just don't get the thing they want, nobody's being punished, that's not how it works.  Jeez, Q, some days I think there's something wrong with you."
He shrugged.  "I just think it would be more polite for the person in charge to say what he wants in the first place, rather than make everybody guess."  
They walked on in silence for a bit as the stars gradually blossomed in the deepening night.  It was deeply unfair, Lu ruminated, the way such a devilishly attractive guy could have the most absolutely backwards sentiments come out of his mouth.  He didn't know any better - poor innocent that he was.  Most of the time he was an absolute sweetheart and perfect gentleman.  It was all frustratingly endearing.
"Mum used to turn me into a cloud sometimes," he offered, filling the awkward pause that had arisen.  "Does that count?  It was a sort of a game we had.  Although... now that I think of it, we only played it when I was being particularly loud and running all about.  Still, it was a funny sort of a feeling, being all" he gestured "fwssshh."
Lu laughed.  "Yeah, I had 'games' like that too.  The Quiet Game, where we would see who could be quiet longer, me or Uncle Jack.  I even beat him at it a coupla times.  But probly, on consideration, I think he was letting me win."
"Very considerate of him."
"So what else can you do?  Can you enter a house without being invited?"
He made a horrified face.  "That would be very rude."
She grinned slyly.  "You wanna try it anyway?"
He opened his mouth and shut it.  "Miss Holmwood, I do believe you are trying to get me into trouble."
"Why Mr Harker, whatever gave you that impression?"  She shook her head.  "Nah, just call it scientific curiosity.  Can you cross running water?"
"I... don't know.  I was taught about tides and things, and that one always ought to board ships at the ebb tide.  Is that not a rule for everyone?  I always thought it was important to make the boats go."
"No, that's not a rule for everyone.  Just last year a guy actually swam from here to France."
"Ah well.  I used to fall into the brook behind the Castle a lot, but that's probably not the same."  He grinned.  "It was a lot of fun though."
She punched him playfully.  "You shoulda said.  We could have gone down to South End - but it's probably too late in the season now.  I bet you look damn fine in a swimsuit."
"You say that about all my suits."
"What can I say?  You're a looker."
He shrugged helplessly.  "I'll have to take your word for it."
She shook her head.  "No mirrors.  That's a rum lot.  And no photographs either, huh?"
"I shouldn't think so.  Cameras work on light and shadow, and I haven't got any shadow."  He sighed.  "You're lucky.  You've got pictures of your family - even your old family.  I don't even have pictures of Papa, and he has a shadow..."
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