THEME
{{Independent RP blog for my own intepretation of R. M. Renfield, before/during/after the events of Bram Stoker's novel Dracula. see about for more. this is a side blog; I will follow back as littlemissamethyst.}}

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OPEN RP
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death, or worse

murraywolfmanmanson:

zoophagousmaniac:

Exhaling his last lungful of smoke slowly, he gave a single short laugh and hooked his thumbs in his pockets.

"It hasn’t been so long that I can’t remember Étienne going nearly feral whenever he smelled wet coffee grounds."

He finally turned his head fully, reavealing a last lingering streak of grey that had most definitely not been there last time they met.

"Ah, yes, that. I must apologize: ocassionally I go through… moody periods, during which I tend to withdraw from company. I’ve been here; just not out.

"Oh, I’m worse about sounds." Murray said. "Bad smells just make me cry, sounds I don’t like drive me insane. Literally."

He started to laugh nervously, regretting that he’d made himself think of that. 

"I understand. I’m like that too." He nodded. "…I don’t like people.

He lifted his eyebrow for a second as Murray explained, but said nothing. A slight inclination of the head conveyed his understanding.

"I like people very well, about half the time," he said matter-of-factly. "That isn’t a sly reference to my ‘dietary habits,’ either, although it may as well be. But even if I like people, there are several very good reasons why they should not always like me- the obvious being only one. I don’t blame them. I think I must have gotten at least a little more adept at handling social norms through all these years, but… Ah, well. C’est la vie… in a manner of speaking. There are always a few people who don’t mind me very much.”

He smiled and shrugged.


~~~


murraywolfmanmanson:

zoophagousmaniac:

"Oh- beg pardon."

He remembered the young man’s reaction to tobacco smoke last time he’d had a cigarette (he had stood with his shirt over his mouth and nose the whole time), so upon noting the tall, lank presense nearby, Renfield took one long drag and extinguished the thing beneath a shining hard-soled shoe.

"Nah, you’re right." Murray shook his head and tried to disguise the fact that his eyes were watering. "I’ll live." 

He laughed weakly. 

"You haven’t been around much." He commented. "I just noticed that."

Exhaling his last lungful of smoke slowly, he gave a single short laugh and hooked his thumbs in his pockets.

"It hasn’t been so long that I can’t remember Étienne going nearly feral whenever he smelled wet coffee grounds."

He finally turned his head fully, reavealing a last lingering streak of grey that had most definitely not been there last time they met.

"Ah, yes, that. I must apologize: ocassionally I go through… moody periods, during which I tend to withdraw from company. I’ve been here; just not out."


"Oh- beg pardon."

He remembered the young man’s reaction to tobacco smoke last time he’d had a cigarette (he had stood with his shirt over his mouth and nose the whole time), so upon noting the tall, lank presense nearby, Renfield took one long drag and extinguished the thing beneath a shining hard-soled shoe.



Skin II, by mad-englishman.

destroyed-and-abandoned:

Harland and Wolff Drawing Office
Source: adcoc001 (flickr)

destroyed-and-abandoned:

Harland and Wolff Drawing Office

Source: adcoc001 (flickr)



{{rp wishlist:
dwightfryes:

i have literally nothing to say

dwightfryes:

i have literally nothing to say


{{for the times when A) i am doing canon-era threads back when he was human or B) if he goes for a long time without drinking blood and he ages back to an old man}}

{{for the times when A) i am doing canon-era threads back when he was human or B) if he goes for a long time without drinking blood and he ages back to an old man}}






H.W. Ernst’s transcription of Schubert’s “Erlkönig”
Kristóf Baráti - live performance
PLAYED 547 TIMES.

haeresisdea:

Inspirational sounds: Talented hungarian violinist Kristóf Baráti plays H.W. Ernst’s transcription of Schubert’s “Erlkönig.” using the violin built by the renowned Italian instrument maker Giuseppe Guarneri (del Gesù) in 1741. The instrument gained its name after being owned by the belgian 19th century violinist Henri Vieuxtemps. It was offered for sale in 2010 with an asking price of price of $18 million, making this violin the most valuable instrument in history.Some people call it the “Mona Lisa” of violins due its craftsmanship and richness in sound.Close your eyes and hear… and you’ll see why. Simply orgasmic.
Illustrative image: Manfio Violas and Violins



Dracula (1931)

Dracula (1931)


Thief in the Night | Lucy and Renfield.

belovedlucy:

zoophagousmaniac:

He sat slumped over on his bed. She was frightened of him- and who could blame her? But when she apologized…

Lifting his eye to her had been a mistake. He wished very much that his hands were unbound, so that he could bury his face in them. It was too much to have her look upon him. She seemed to look through him, to know what haunted his pitiful old heart.

Selfish.

To hear the word he had turned upon himself spoken aloud by this girl… It cut him to the bone, and finally loosed his tongue.

"What more may I tell you? What more is there? He is real, He is coming for you, you are already under His thumb, just as I am. I had thought- but no. Never mind my foolishness. It is neither here nor there now," he said in a gloomy voice, sounding thoroughly defeated.

He was quiet for a moment; then he sighed heavily. He didn’t want to speak any more, but found he could not stop the words from coming. Some part of his soul wanted to unburden itself. It was a small part. It was not the majority. The rest of him was trying to shut this small part up.

"I never knew just how much He wanted, how much He planned to take… or perhaps I did, and I simply ignored it. Even I cannot tell. It seemed like such a little thing, at first. Such a little thing. But how blind I was! And willingly so. It was easier to be blind. Because it is not a little thing, after all. It is everything. He wants all of it. All of it, and more! He will not stop, not ever. He has taken so much, and yet His hunger does nothing but grow! Even now He turns His eye upon-…"

No, no, no, stop right there. Do not say it. Do not say that name. No more. His tongue fumbled, but his lips kept on moving.

"… another. This will not end with you, or I. It will go on, and on, just as it has gone on for all of His long lifetime. This is but the beginning, Miss Lucy. What he has taken from us, he will keep taking, until there is nothing left. Until we are His, wholly and irrevocably. You, and I, and everyone else he’s got his eye upon.”

Finally, he looked up at her again, and when he did, he saw the utter confusion there. Shocked realization broke across his old features; he took a breath and held it a moment.

"Do- do you not know, Miss Lucy? Do you not know what He is stealing from you? Not even that?”

     Her breathe caught in her throat.

He is coming for you.

     That filled her with fear, she was so afraid of this beast when it came tapping on her window, knowing it was that that made her feel weak in the morning, as though she hadn’t slept at all. Surely there was a way to escape him? Rather than sit down and take it, like this Renfield seemed to be doing, if he knew what the beast was, they he had to know it’s weakness.

"Oh how can you say such things… How can you say such things so freely and without a conscience!" She was livid at the idea that he knew, he knew this creature would come to claim more victims, and he could do little else about it.

"You know him better than I, you have to. You must speak with him…" But she knew as soon as the words left her lips that they were hopeless ones. A beast like this did not see reason. "I do not even know what it is… Is he a man? A creature, a beast? Is he the reason you are in this room, locked away?" And yet he was so calm about it.

"Mr Renfield… I am so afraid… Will he take my life? Will he take yours?" But she didn’t truly want to know the answer to that question, for she feared what it might be. Yes. Had this Renfield just accepted his fate?

"I have no understanding of what he wants with me… Apart from the fact that I wake up feeling weaker than before…" It struck her then at his question that the answer was life. Life was the thing this beast took away from her, night after night. had it not been for that Dr Van Helsing, that kind man who had given her a blood transfusion from his very own arm, could she have been dead? But what of Renfield, why not him first if he was the first victim?

"Can we not alert the authorities… Perhaps this man is the one to be locked away and not you! We have done no harm, only he who seeks to bring headship to innocent lives, to take them away!" She was delirious now, as though she were fighting a battle with Mr Renfield, but he would not fightback, for he could not. He had not answers to give her, only this beast he spoke of yet had no proof of where he was.

"Might I ask… Mr Renfield… How you came to end up in this place?" The room was dark and dreary and it brought about a bad feeling, one that filled her with dread. "Do his victims end up here… Is this my fate?"

Question after question piled on top of him, until he was crushed beneath the weight of them. Some, she did not need answers to: he saw the dreary understanding on her face. It was not a thing he wanted to see. If he lived for a thousand years, that look on the girl’s face would haunt him for all of them. She was beginning to understand, yes, but still grasping for something that made sense to her, for a reasonable and quantifiable solution. She would not find either of those things.

"The authorities-" he laughed, but it looked more like a sob- "pfah! You ask me if He is man or beast- well! I think you may know the answer to that already! Though you may not want to face it. And what will your authorities do? Can they lock up a ‘nightmare’? Can they recover your stolen goods from Him?”

His tone, by now, was far more cutting than it had started out. His fear had caught up with him, and in his uncertainty he became defensive and quite outwardly cynical. All this bluster, however, fell away when she asked him the last question. He deflated, sinking forward again limply. For many seconds he was silent. He did not look up when he began speaking, but stared into the floor with grey hair falling over his face.

"You asked me," he said suddenly, "if He is the reason I am here. The answer to that is both yes and no. I was lost, long since lost, when He found me. But if a man can be still more lost than I was before I came to Him, that is what I was when they found me at Carfax. I am here because His design places me here… but I may indeed have been destined to end up here whether He found me or no. I have been inside of places like this for longer than I have been outside of them. Since I was not much older than you. I’ve been trying to escape all my life- but they always find me. Like the hounds find the fox, like the fox finds the hare, like the spider finds the fly. It doesn’t matter now, I suppose. I am here, and I do not think I am ever getting out again, unless it is through the chimney of the crematorium. My reward is forfeit, now. Maybe- maybe it always was. But you, dear girl,-"

His voice choked out to silence for a moment.

"… No. You will not end up here."

He looked up at her then with a mixture of guilt and ominousness.

She would do the Master no good here. The Sanatorium was not her fate- not unless she tried to go to the authorities with her story. But He would come for the girl no matter where she was. He had plans for her.

Renfield turned his eye to the window- but only because he couldn’t bear to look her in the face anymore.