Victor Frankenstein (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lifeskills) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-01-20 07:05 pm
lifeskills) wrote in entrancelogs2017-01-20 07:05 pm
OPEN | with a confusion of ideas
Who: Victor Frankenstein (lifeskills) and anyone in the neighborhood.
Where: The dining room.
When: Jan. 20th.
Rating: PG-13, maybe? Possibly? We'll see.
Summary: Going to art school instead of medical school would've saved a lot of people some trouble, just saying.
The Story:
[It's been an odd week. It's always odd in Wonderland, but it's not often he starts a week off by getting a sunburn in the middle of winter (and he knows exactly whose mind that Egyptian adventure had come from, as if there was ever any doubt). It's been an odd year, if he's being honest. Odder than most, and that's saying something considering he's been in Wonderland for over two now.
To think it'd been around this time last Christmas that he'd been looking at a future vision of Lily and Dorian Gray ballroom dancing, and not knowing who they were. Not knowing the significance they'd have in his life once he returned to London--and he had, in time to put together all of the hints Wonderland had been dropping. About himself. About the tragic events that were coming.
Victor has taken up residence at one of the dining room tables, a common enough sight during breakfast and dinner hours while grabbing a bite to eat (lunch is usually an afterthought grabbed on the go). Only a coffee cup sits near him now--and a journal, propped up on a folded knee. He's been drawing, but not the kinds of research sketches one would have found inside in times past when scientific rigor was the focus.
As he goes to adjust his seat, the journal falls from its precariously balanced position, scattering loose pages along the floor. If a page should skitter close to one's foot, they'll find series of abstract drawings dotting it. Doodles, really. Random hieroglyphics. A pyramid crowned with a jewel. The White Queen's symbol. A blonde woman, beautiful features made sharper by her intensely piercing eyes.]
Sorry. It slipped.
[Excuse him while he tries to scoop those up before someone steps on the detritus of his thoughts.]
lifeskills) and anyone in the neighborhood.Where: The dining room.
When: Jan. 20th.
Rating: PG-13, maybe? Possibly? We'll see.
Summary: Going to art school instead of medical school would've saved a lot of people some trouble, just saying.
The Story:
[It's been an odd week. It's always odd in Wonderland, but it's not often he starts a week off by getting a sunburn in the middle of winter (and he knows exactly whose mind that Egyptian adventure had come from, as if there was ever any doubt). It's been an odd year, if he's being honest. Odder than most, and that's saying something considering he's been in Wonderland for over two now.
To think it'd been around this time last Christmas that he'd been looking at a future vision of Lily and Dorian Gray ballroom dancing, and not knowing who they were. Not knowing the significance they'd have in his life once he returned to London--and he had, in time to put together all of the hints Wonderland had been dropping. About himself. About the tragic events that were coming.
Victor has taken up residence at one of the dining room tables, a common enough sight during breakfast and dinner hours while grabbing a bite to eat (lunch is usually an afterthought grabbed on the go). Only a coffee cup sits near him now--and a journal, propped up on a folded knee. He's been drawing, but not the kinds of research sketches one would have found inside in times past when scientific rigor was the focus.
As he goes to adjust his seat, the journal falls from its precariously balanced position, scattering loose pages along the floor. If a page should skitter close to one's foot, they'll find series of abstract drawings dotting it. Doodles, really. Random hieroglyphics. A pyramid crowned with a jewel. The White Queen's symbol. A blonde woman, beautiful features made sharper by her intensely piercing eyes.]
Sorry. It slipped.
[Excuse him while he tries to scoop those up before someone steps on the detritus of his thoughts.]
It would be a shame if this knowledge slipped into the wrong hands...
[No, this Dorian was caught by surprise when he found the drawing of the beautiful woman fly out of Victor's journal and land at Dorian's feet. Picking it up to inspect it, Dorian was awed by the keen attention to detail, the beauty in her features etched onto the page. Beauty... Pure beauty on the page. Dorian idly reached out to brush a finger against the sketched cheek when he heard Victor muttering an excuse.]
Doctor Frankenstein? I had no idea you were such a talented artist!
[He's not going to give the evidence back. Not now.]
squints suspiciously at
Composing his expression at the last second, he manages the kind of blank-faced interest reserved for strangers in the street or on a long train ride in a shared compartment. He straightens, slipping the sheets of paper back into place with a crisp snap of the journal's covers closing around them.]
It's a skill required for diagramming. [It would be an understatement to say he mistrusts the avid attention Dorian pays the drawings. Victor's hand goes out, expectant.] Thank you.
[For picking it up and returning it. He won't let anything belonging to Lily fall into this or any Dorian's hands again, not even her likeness. It makes an uncomfortable feeling bloom behind his ribs that he does his best to ignore.]
smiles sweetly
[He still isn't going to give it back. Not now. He wants to gaze upon this beautiful woman's face and note every feature of her beauty. He paces, partly to keep away from the agitated scientist.]
You ought to submit this to the Gallery. [He smirks as he finally returns the drawing to Victor's hand. Can't get him too upset.] I'm sure there are plenty of folks in Wonderland who would want to see your work.
no subject
[There's an unyielding edge to the observation as he purposely fails to return the smile, hand still outstretched. Waiting. He hadn't been interested in playing Dorian's game when they'd been children in Hogsmeade, and he's not now. Perhaps it's about time the younger Dorian Gray learned not ever.
Especially not over her. That had been a one-time mistake that he deserves to pay for, but one he won't make a second time.]
No.
[And frankly, a flat-out refusal is more of a response than he feels the nosy voyeur deserves at this point, but since he did return the paper with only minor fuss, he can have that much at least. Victor lays the sheet on top of the others, returning the stack to its orderly neatness. He's more relieved to have it away from the other's hungry gaze than he can properly say; it's discomfiting to know two men with different faces can have the same proclivities.]
I forgot about this one! Sorry.
[He smiles, coyly. He knows not of his assumed relationship with the woman in the picture, but he knows how some people are very protective of their things.]
It doesn't have to be of that woman, if you really put that much of yourself into that sketch, but think of the possibilities. Maybe you could go into portraiture?