Nathaniel sat glaring at the men with distaste. He swirled his rum as if it would tell him the answers he needed. He sat far off in the shadows, his one visible eye glowing blue like a vulture’s. His facial features appeared twisted, the shadows distorting his body. He’d rather be drinking amontillado; He’ll never forget the taste of the wine and how it stained his tongue with flavor. He threw back his head, drinking the rest of the rum like a shot. It burned the back of his throat, but he was indifferent. He retrained his focus on the messy plans in front of him, tuning out those whom disturbed his peace.
Dorian worked at the bar all night, and long into the morning. Every so often a vampire would enter or exit the club, getting orders from Dracula that Dorian was completely unaware of. Victor meanwhile stared into his scotch, not drinking more than a small sip at a time every half hour, he couldn't get drunk here. This was a disreputable place, who knew what the patrons of this bar would do with his unassuming body? Victor didn't know. But the story of a monster in England was spreading, so on the other hand, might as well. It was a strong drink, but he downed it all without even vomiting very much, and he quickly bought another, and another as his body relaxed under the influence of the drink.
Nathaniel scoffed at the circus of bumbling idiots. He gripped the glass, anger flowing through his veins. Obnoxious noise clouded his head, his hand squeezing the glass harder and harder until it broke. The broken glass carried its nauseating sound throughout the bar. He sighed, wiping glass shards off of his plans. His visible eye glared over at Victor, its blue glow piercing through his soul, “You should not drink so much. It will kill you and bury you below the earth. The underground monsters will tear you apart, sinking their worn teeth into your precious throat.” his voice was raspy with unamusement carrying through its wavelengths. He was a mysterious man indeed, one that spoke with harsh words towed the living. Nathaniel immediately regretted talking to the man getting wasted on scotch.
Victor peered up above his glass. He was wasting time and money here, but this stranger… he could barely get a glimpse of his face, and maybe it was better that way. "Pshhh, there're monsser's 'bove ground." he slurred, moving to sit down in front of Nathaniel. "I should know, I created them." the last part was surprisingly lucid for how drunk Victor was, he was known by friends and familly to get wasted pretty quickly and be a bit silly when drunk. He still couldn't quite see the other man's face…
Nathaniel crinkled his nose. Even if he was hidden by the shadows, his friend, he hated people being this close to him. He rolled up the paper with scribbles of the strange machine-looking creatures and scooted away from Victor. He had no intention of talking, but he spoke his words anyway. “We all have our monsters, do we not.” He swept the broken glass away from his vicinity. “My monsters tend to cloud my brain, whispering things in my head. Only a mad man like you would understand my speech. A mad man whom is slowly killing himself with scotch.” His tone turned harsh. Nathaniel was not one to go to a bar and drink, but he needed to burn off some edge, hoping to forget the evening. But that clearly was not going to happen.
Victor shook his head, then pointed to it. "Not up here." he lowered his finger, driving it into the table and whimpering when it hit harder than it should have. "I bring things back from the dead, and all they do is kill." he said, the ghosts were washing over the edges of his vision like tides. He was feeling sick now, still drunk but about to lose his drink as all he'd done in the last three days was drink, alcohol or water, not eat, and it was starting to affect him. "If you want to see, I can show you. I know my monster is here, somewhere. 'S watching meeeeeee……!" he giggled.
Nathaniel rolled his eyes, scoffing at this drunk man rambling about creatures. “What if I told you I am a monster you may be looking for. I watch, I stalk, I murder… but I do not come from the ground. I am not a reanimated creature, I have lived a life of madness.” He grasped the man on the shoulder, the roughness of his can catching on Victor’s clothing. “I do not need to see a monster to know one. You must have a severe problem, my friend. Why don’t I help you—“ Nathaniel chose his words carefully. “Eradicate it.” Leaning over towards Victor to hold the man from hurting himself, the other side of his masked face peeked through the shadow. It was twisted, looking like a patchwork quilt. The burn was so bad, it twisted his emotions, making them look different compared to what was shone on his other half. Comparing the two halves, he might seem like two different people.
Victor still could barely see the man’s face, drunk and dizzy as he was. His head slumped down, and he closed his eyes to breathe for a minute. No. This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening. he shuddered at the sudden touch. He was suddenly a little more lucid, and looked up at his now-captor to show it on his face. “What sort of monster are you, then?” he asked, swaying somewhat in his seat.
Nathaniel held up the sodden man’s face, feeling tipsy himself. No matter how mad this man became with the alcohol poisoning his system, he still tended to his side, hoping to get something out of him. “I am a gentle monster. I will not condemn you or slaughter you.” Nathaniel smiled wickedly. Just a poor drunk soul, such a melancholy. Wasting his life at a bar of curious patrons “Do you have any friends that could help drag you out of here? You clearly have not thought about the repercussions.” Especially the repercussions that come after speaking to me He let go of Victor’s face and leaned his elbow on the counted, facing Victor with a devious look, swirling yet another glass of rum in his left hand.
Victor shook his head. "Any friends I had are long gone, or surely hate me now." he said. He normally didn't like being drunk, didn't like losing control, but this stranger felt like someone he could lose control with, however dangerous he might be. Victor tried to move, but something was gluing him where he sat, like an anxious force that wouldn't let go. "I am alone." he added, choking up a little.
Nathaniel looked Victor in the eyes. Such an incompetent man. He's soiled his life "None of these saps are your friends? You—sit alone at a bar? Such a woe you are." Nathaniel picked up his plans and set the drink down on the counter. He patted Victor on the shoulder. "You will not be alone for long, my friend. Things will come to tear you apart, I would know. I am also a woe." Nathaniel laughed and pulled Victor to his feet. He hugged the man tight to his body, so he didn't double over from the toxins. Nathaniel glanced around the bar to make sure no one would notice. Most patrons were drunk out of their minds, and others were too busy conversing with the bartender. He paid all dues for himself and Victor. "You cannot traverse the journey to my place. I shall call a carriage—my new friend." The words felt heavy on Nathaniel's tongue. One should realize how formidable he looked. He seemed of royalty, but of course, that was not the case. Nathaniel smiled at Victor, one that should send chills down your spine. He glanced around one last time and then slipped into the cold shadows, dragging Victor along.
Victor felt like he was about to vomit. None of this seemed right, or even okay, but when you were so desperate for positive attention you’d do practically anything. And Victor, as an old University friend had called him before, was something of an attention seeker. He allowed himself to be dragged along, not sure what they were doing or what would be the outcome of this. As far as he knew, he was about to get murdered.
(Time to rack brain for description. I'm probably going to base this on the Victorian house my aunt lives in)
After a short carriage ride, Nathaniel helped Victor step out, trying not to let the man screw up his face by falling on the pavement. They stood outside a lavish home that would go unnoticed in many circumstances. The outside was painted a fine gray-blue. It was two floors like most, with a tower attached to the right side, sitting on the porch overhang. The porch was fenced in and had wooden steps leading up to the door. Nathaniel slowly led victor up the stairs, shuffling him in the door. The inside look as grand as the outside. Stairs leading to the upstairs were placed close to the door. Off to the left side of the door sat a bench. If you peered down the foyer, it opened to a room with wooden furniture, like a desk and chair. The desk had papers with rough scribbles on it. Machinery also sat on it. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a few rugs lined the floor. Nathaniel waved his hand, "Sorry for the disaster," and turned Victor's attention to an open doorway next to the front door. It led to another room.
his room was your classic Victorian living room. Nathaniel shuffled Victor into the room and sat him down on a couch. He walked off into another room, leaving Victor to his own devices. There were many places to sit, like little couches and armchairs. A few bookshelves lined the wall near a fireplace. Paintings decorated the walls, and curtains draped over the windows. A few tables with drawers sat on one wall close to the fireplace. Nathaniel returned with a teacup and saucer. He was careful not to trip on the living room carpet and set the tea on a small coffee table in the middle of all the chairs and sofas. (Sorry if this is hard to imagine, I'm not good at description lol)
"Drink the tea, please. It should help you with nausea. It is herbal tea. " Nathaniel sat himself next to Victor. This room looked normal compared to the one with all the machinery dotting tables and desks. Nathaniel smiled at Victor as if he was an old chap, placing the rolled-up paper on the floor. "Tell me, what is your story?"
Victor drank, it was a welcome diversion from the lingering taste of liquor in his mouth. "Can't tell you, you'd think me mad." he said, taking in the house a little at a time. He started to focus on the colors, then the shapes. And then, he began to focus on what the shapes were, armchairs, and upholstery. He continued to drink the tea, it was a bit weak but that was probably for the best.
Nathaniel glared at Victor, annoyed with the man's refusal to tell him anything. He needed to know his history. It was important. If he didn't find out, it might ruin his plans to run this city rampant. "I will not think you are mad. I am mad myself, remember? I told you things whisper to me in my head. They speak and tell me what to do. You and I have to be similar, two madmen lingering around town and throwing away their lives. Does that sound familiar to you?" Nathaniel held his head up and raised an eyebrow. He stood, walking over to one of the tables lining the walls. He opened a drawer, taking out a shiny object. Nathaniel put it in his palm and closed it shut. He made his way back over to Victor and reseated himself. He opened his palm to reveal a mechanical beetle. "This is what I work on. Ever since my studies in alchemy went sour, I started to work on automation. It is a thrill to bring something to life, something that takes only a little spark." Nathaniel's eyes lit up when he said spark, the burns on the left of his face twisting with his excitement. "Creatures you thought that would lay dead without movement. Creatures you thought you would have to bury in their graves."
Victor felt sicker than sick now, but managed to keep from vomiting when he spoke his next words. "I am by birth a Genevese. My father married the daughter of one of his wealthy merchant friends, and despite the age difference, they seemed happy." he began, thinking that starting from the very, very beginning would be the most useful to him and his host/captor. "My family traveled quite a bit when I was young, and on our travels we met a family who had taken in the daughter of a French noble since fallen into ruin. Her name was Elizabeth Lavenza, and we took her into our family for, as good as the people there were, they could not enrich her noble blood in the same way. We were to marry, although frankly I-" Victor halted himself. He didn't ever want to marry Liza, she was never the one he'd loved. But that was a story for another time. "I was never close with my siblings, but Elizabeth was always glued to my hip as was my childhood friend, Henry Clerval. We entertained ourselves in my mother's garden, but after Mother died we quickly stopped playing there in favor of the fields by Henry's house. I-" he abruptly stopped, and choked out a sob.
Nathaniel took the teacup from Victor, worrying he would spill it all over his carpet. He set it down on the coffee table, putting the machine beetle in his coat pocket. He comforted Victor, trying to get him to continue. "It will be alright, my dear friend. Nothing can hurt you, not even your past." Nathaniel gave him a twisted smile, continuing one with his carefully planned words. Of course, he's heard about Victor Frankenstein. Who has not? "If you are from Geneva, how might have you landed yourself in England? Where are your friends now?" He prepared to comfort Victor through another sob of sorrow. This man is a wreck. How could anyone let him wander around on his own? He will end up hurting himself before anything else gets to him "I shall tell my story if you want to hear my sorry tale. If it even interests you. My mother always said to repay those who have given you something worth your while." He patted Victor's back in a slow, timely manner, his smile looking fake as ever.
Victor leaned into the touch, as cold as it was. Henry used to hold him like this… but was it not inappropriate for men to be near each other, in this strange country? Was there more to this gesture of support than there seemed to be? Victor was not a homosexual, as far as he knew, but he also… wasn’t not one. He’d had experiences with other men, at university in Germany. Maybe not… relations, per se, but it was a near thing.
“I found myself here after events too terrible to recount at this time. Could I rest, please? I’ve had a long day, and a long night at that.” he murmured, body slumping into Nathaniel’s. “I don’t even know your name.”
Nathaniel worked up his hospitality and picked up the paper at his feet. "Of course you can, sir. I do not mind it at all. My name is Nathaniel Nightseeker, but please, call me by my first name." Nathaniel turned himself to put both his hands on Victor's shoulders, bracing the man for a slight decline. He slowly got up while laying Victor down. Looking at Victor, Nathaniel noticed how sickly he appeared. "Are you ill at all, sir?" While picking up the teacup and saucer, a buzz was heard from Nathaniel's pocket. He smacked the pocket with the rolled paper, the breaking of mechanics being heard. He shuffled off into the kitchen to place the dishes in the dry sink. Nathaniel returned to the living room and set the fireplace alight, tending to it by placing some more tender on the rack. He stood up and looked around the room, walking over to sit in an armchair. He unrolled the paper, peering over the plans for human-like automations, the scribbles looking demonic.
Victor didn’t have the capacity for responding, for as soon as he laid down he fell asleep, drooling onto the cushions. Nathaniel was all he heard, and he assumed that was the name to the not-quite-visible face.
Meanwhile, Dorian had left work and had followed the two madmen to Nathaniel’s house. He knew a bad situation when he saw one, his mother had been drugged and harmed too many times to let Dorian feel comfortable leaving the mysterious patrons alone, especially not the sickly dark-haired one.
A tingle went up Nathaniel’s spine. He had a gut feeling that he should look for any lurking creatures. He clasped the paper in his hand, crushing it. He got up from where he sat, trying to be quiet not to wake the sleeping madman, stifling his way into the foyer. He slammed the damaged plans on the desk and made his way to the front door. Opening the door, he peered outside, narrowing his eyes when they landed on Dorian. He scowled, although it could not be seen because the shadows covered his visage. “What could you possibly want?” He spat. His temper was dwindling into wrath and soon hysteria. He’d already helped a patron and wanted to be left in peace. He didn’t need to talk to another. “You’re the bartender, aren’t you,” Nathaniel slipped outside into his natural habitat, shutting the door behind him. The night. “What seems to be the issue?” His demeanor shifted to one that was more practical. It was not pleasant, but it was doable.
Dorian shifted to one hip, arms crossed. "I don't know what you're doing, but I would like to know soon. Or do I have to call upon the police?" he asked, looking Nathaniel deep in the eyes. He soon averted his gaze from that monstrous face, however. "What do you want, from this poor gentleman? He seemed no harm, but you seem plenty. I know faces like that, there's evil in them." he growled, withdrawing from his coat pocket a knife, a decent size and heft and enough to use as a weapon if needed, not like Dorian would ever actually but Vladimir had gifted it to protect himself from disreputable patrons who wanted nothing more than to drug him into bed.
Nathaniel laughed. It was deep and raspy as any laugh of a psycho would be. "I think we caught ourselves in a misunderstanding, my dear gentleman. The poor man was fighting off the poison you served him. I gave him something to help with his nausea, and I let him rest." He grinned, trying to put on a friendly face, keeping an eye on the knife. It was difficult when half your face was that of a monster. "You can look inside. He is unscathed. Just trying to be a helpful citizen in this world." He bowed with a twinkle in his eye. He then stood straight and turned his back to Dorian. "Oh! If you decide to follow my heal, put that weapon of yours away. I do not want to have to use mine." He went back up the steps of his home, opening the door and gesturing for the man to enter. He was not dangerous, just mischievous. Or so that's what he thought.
Dorian knew better than to enter the homes of strange men. "Poison? Sir, I would graciously tell you how wounded I feel were I feeling any grace. I would never poison anything I serve my patrons, and frankly the accusation is enough to make me suspect foul play here." he said. "Don't make me call someone."
Nathaniel stood at his door, rolling his eyes at such a lunatic. "All the scotch he drank was killing him. I had to give him chamomile to soothe the poor soul. Take my word, sir; I do not play foul. I always play fair, even if you least expect it from me. You can take my tongue's word on that, sir." He gave Dorian a little innocent smile, his burn doing him no favors. A tick comes from his pocket, and he huffs. Nathaniel pulls out a stopwatch from his pocket that once used to be the beetle. He clicks it at exactly 21:00 hours. "I will see you around, my good sir!"
But from above, there was a crash as an empty bottle of vodka was smashed over Nathaniel's head, and a figure leaped from the roof onto his now-unconscious body. It was a dwarf of a man, a dwarf Dorian was all too familiar with. "Hyde."
"Dorrrrriiiiiiaaaaaan!!! Beloved!" Hyde exclaimed, dragging Nathaniel's knocked out form with surprising strength over to Dorian. "He'll be out for a few hours, worry not. Now, dear Dori, why don't you be a dear and help me take this fellow to the theater? I didn't mean to knock him out, but I have a lovely person claiming cannibalism who could dispose of him. I don't want anyone to press charges on you, I love you too much for that." he said, and Dorian rolled his eyes.
"Hyde, no. Leave him in the street. I don't think he deserves death." Dorian said, picking a piece of glass from Nathaniel's hair.
Nathaniel's entire body shook. He shuttered awake, blinking as the sun peaked above the horizon. It was no longer 21:00 hours but 06:30. He groaned, getting himself to his knees, his hands on the cobbled street and head hanging. What that HELL! What was that guy's deal? He coughed, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. Standing to his feet, his mind tempted him to track the men down. He could guess where they were. He decided against it, limping inside his home and slamming the door shut. Anger shook his entire body, along with the cold air wafting off of him. He entered the kitchen, gripping a counter and hanging his head. The cuts from the glass pained him, but he did not care. He didn’t even care that his tailcoat was wrinkled. Nathaniel wanted to work on his plans, plans to overrun England. He brewed himself some tea to soothe his body and made his way over to his bureau desk. Nathaniel put the cup down and picked up a pencil. He started doodling intricate designs onto a piece of paper, scribbling away like a madman writing Don Juan Triumphant. Nathaniel slammed his fist down on the desk, "GODDAMN!"
Edward exited the shadows in favor of leaning over Nathaniel, smug grin on his face. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked as the man's fist hit the desk. Voices, soft ones, could be heard from the sitting room, as Victor and Dorian conversed. "He's dangerous. You don't have a face like that and have a clean history." Dorian said. Victor mumbled something back, and Edward leaned onto Nathaniel. "Soooo… bitch boyyy, how'sabout we take this outside? Dorian told me he suspected you of unsavory motivations towards this Victor fellow, and I've reinforcements waiting outside ready to bash down the door. Admittedly, I met the giant last night in the theater, drunk as a peach. But the brute seems likable." he laughed.
Nathaniel closed his eyes, squeezing them shut and gritting his teeth. It turns into a twisted smile. "If you do not get out of my face, I will hit you. I will not be kind to a man threatening my life." He laughed like a madman and caught his breath after a small hiccough. Nathaniel gripped his pencil with his pointer and middle, pushing up the end with his thumb, snapping his pencil in half. He grabbed the teacup, slamming his desk closed, trapping all the papers and mechanics inside. Nathaniel lifted his head and turned toward Edward, staring him deep into his eyes. His scars twisted, forcing the left half of his face into a snide look, his eye squinted. The other side was just a normal smile with a wide eye. He put the teacup on the top of his desk and stood. "Now, believe me when I say—I HAVE NO GODDAMN ILL INTENTIONS. GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, OR I MIGHT DO SOMETHING I WILL REGRET!" His fist was balled—it seemed he was about ready to punch Edward.
A startled noise came from the other room, it came from Victor. It was like he had been startled awake and indeed he had, waking as soon as the shouting started. Dorian whispered soft murmurs of reassurance to him, it was as if they had been conversing while Nathaniel was out cold. Hyde slipped out like an eel, and went to check on Victor. At the same time, the door opened, quietly. "I heard shouting. Mr. Hyde, are you alright?" a soft, almost angelic voice carried into the hall.
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