Honestly, Victor isn't one for alcohol. He can't drink. Not because he doesn't want to. It's just that medically, alcohol doesn't mix very well with his chosen vice. And honestly, he probably shouldn't do this here. But it's not like Victor hasn't done this sort of thing in front of others.
A tourniquet, a needle, and then just the lethargic feelings that come as his world calms, his thoughts finally slow, and he allows this new strange music to sweep over him.
There's a soft, almost sad smile on his face. The problem comes when the police show up. There are shouts and people are scattering. Except for one still rather blissed out scientist. He's got no idea what's going on and even less ability to really function quickly. But he can at least be there to stall. "You should go. I'll keep them busy."
Ⅲa. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF [Victor pulls a small leather bound journal from a pocket. He'd picked it up in his first weeks in this place. Already, pages are being filled with words and drawings and questions to be answered.
He stops before the symbol and makes a quick note. This again. Let's see where you lead.
[It's probably not very smart for him to simply go off on his own to check things out, but that's never stopped him before. He might find answers.
Instead, he finds eyestrain and a headache as well as a pure white room with paint. In a flash of inspiration, he sketches out the symbol.] Nothing ventured.
[No sooner has he done that does he feel it. The same terror he's felt day in and day our since he'd fled from his first creature.
His breath starts picking up and Victor places a hand against the wall to steady himself.]
He's not here. He'd have made himself known already...
Ⅲb. The King In Yellow The book appears next to Victor's cot at the Temple. The young man gengerly takes the tome carefully. He knows it wasn't there the night before.
He itches to read it. "Who ever owns this, I'll be borrowing it. I should be finished shortly."
It won't take him all that long to finish the entire play. Even if he pauses halfway through to remark "Shakespeare this is not."
Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER cw: blood He's been asking around for doctors and others in the profession for a while now. There's a lot of new things he needs to learn. Medicine has changed a lot, even within the next twenty to thirty years. Victor wants to know it all.
Eventually, he finds himself in a rather nostalgic place. It looks like a run down factory, with creaking stairs and leaking ceilings. It's all dirty and ramshackle.
At first, the doctors scoffed at him but soon enough, Victor is elbows deep in removing bullets and setting bones.
He's just finished with a minor surgery. It's not even remotely what he's capable of with the right tools.
He steps into the waiting room. There's a bright splash of crimson against a pale cheek. It splatters across the apron he's wearing but his hands are very clean.
He looks over those still needing to be tended to, far too calm for someone working a back alley emergency room. "Next."
Victor Frankenstein | Penny Dreadful | OTA
Honestly, Victor isn't one for alcohol. He can't drink. Not because he doesn't want to. It's just that medically, alcohol doesn't mix very well with his chosen vice. And honestly, he probably shouldn't do this here. But it's not like Victor hasn't done this sort of thing in front of others.
A tourniquet, a needle, and then just the lethargic feelings that come as his world calms, his thoughts finally slow, and he allows this new strange music to sweep over him.
There's a soft, almost sad smile on his face. The problem comes when the police show up. There are shouts and people are scattering. Except for one still rather blissed out scientist. He's got no idea what's going on and even less ability to really function quickly. But he can at least be there to stall. "You should go. I'll keep them busy."
Ⅲa. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
[Victor pulls a small leather bound journal from a pocket. He'd picked it up in his first weeks in this place. Already, pages are being filled with words and drawings and questions to be answered.
He stops before the symbol and makes a quick note. This again. Let's see where you lead.
[It's probably not very smart for him to simply go off on his own to check things out, but that's never stopped him before. He might find answers.
Instead, he finds eyestrain and a headache as well as a pure white room with paint. In a flash of inspiration, he sketches out the symbol.] Nothing ventured.
[No sooner has he done that does he feel it. The same terror he's felt day in and day our since he'd fled from his first creature.
His breath starts picking up and Victor places a hand against the wall to steady himself.]
He's not here. He'd have made himself known already...
Ⅲb. The King In Yellow
The book appears next to Victor's cot at the Temple. The young man gengerly takes the tome carefully. He knows it wasn't there the night before.
He itches to read it. "Who ever owns this, I'll be borrowing it. I should be finished shortly."
It won't take him all that long to finish the entire play. Even if he pauses halfway through to remark "Shakespeare this is not."
Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER cw: blood
He's been asking around for doctors and others in the profession for a while now. There's a lot of new things he needs to learn. Medicine has changed a lot, even within the next twenty to thirty years. Victor wants to know it all.
Eventually, he finds himself in a rather nostalgic place. It looks like a run down factory, with creaking stairs and leaking ceilings. It's all dirty and ramshackle.
At first, the doctors scoffed at him but soon enough, Victor is elbows deep in removing bullets and setting bones.
He's just finished with a minor surgery. It's not even remotely what he's capable of with the right tools.
He steps into the waiting room. There's a bright splash of crimson against a pale cheek. It splatters across the apron he's wearing but his hands are very clean.
He looks over those still needing to be tended to, far too calm for someone working a back alley emergency room. "Next."