forum ayy yo a frankenstein rp for the repressed childhood trauma points (Orion, back again. Again. Again again.)

Started August 30, 2021 by Deleted user

tune

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Robert's brow knotted up again. "You aren't very agreeable, are you sir?" His fingers began to play with each other, making flicking motions or hiding the thumb between two fingers. "And my sanctuary is unconditional. I'm not going to force you overboard if you're not going tell me, I just want to understand what kind of people I provided santuary for. But I suppose you telling me that I would think you mad tells me all I need to know. Perhaps its good that you stay here, away from the upper decks."

Victor coughed. Loudly. "And that would mean…?" he began, all while the creature began to bite his nails nervously. "I really would love to hear your thoughts on the matter. My supposed "madness", since you seem to assume I am insane. Believe me, you don't even know the beginning of what I've gone through to get where I am today. Why would you know anything about me, hmm?" Victor asked, confrontational. It was in his nature as a Frankenstein to put up a debate, but the problem is, Victor had never cared to learn the rules of discourse.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “And why should I tell you my thoughts, when you won’t tell me anything either? Ah, but unlike you, I like oversharing things, so I’ll tell you anyway.”
Robert caught the giant biting his nails and remembered to lower the volume of his voice. “Well, you may be disagreeable, but not mad… I think. The way you speak can only be that of a man of sound mind, no? So either your madness just runs deeper than that, or what you experienced is the madness, not you yourself. But all the same, staying here would be best for the both of you.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “And why should I tell you my thoughts, when you won’t tell me anything either? Ah, but unlike you, I like oversharing things, so I’ll tell you anyway.”
Robert caught the giant biting his nails and remembered to lower the volume of his voice. “Well, you may be disagreeable, but not mad… I think. The way you speak can only be that of a man of sound mind, no? So either your madness just runs deeper than that, or what you experienced is the madness, not you yourself. But all the same, staying here would be best for the both of you.”

Victor didn't know how to respond to that. "I'm sure that's what you think." he said distantly, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. The creature knew this was bad, when Victor was really upset he always got like this, distant and cold and uncaring more so than usual until he finally snapped, anything could trigger it and anything would get your head cut off by the sharpness of his words, practically.

He pursed his lips and tilted his head. He’d honestly expected more of a response. “Ah well,” Robert shrugged. “We’re all tired, I suppose. I’ll leave you to your own company.”
He looked over the both of them, giving the giant a curious smile. “Good night. I at least hope that what I’ve provided you with is better than what you left behind.” Giving them each a nod of farewell, he turned to go back to his cabin.

Victor snorted, but still said nothing. What had he left behind? A life, and someone he might have actually even loved for once, however perverse that love was. He'd been rejected of course, it was only natural. Society didn't want people like him, and if he wanted to love someone from that society, he'd inevitably be rejected. But Henry hadn't needed to expose not only him, but also his life's work. That one was just plain offensive to him. There would be people looking to kill him now, or worse, put him in with all the mentals in the hospital or prison or even asylum.

(Yeah, hehe)

When Robert returned to his cabin, his gaze landed on his desk. Oh yes, he had been writing a letter to his sister. Well, might as well tell her about what just happened. He could feel his eyes getting heavy, but he could probably spare the time to write something like that.
He sat at the desk, wrote a few sentences, and then his head almost dropped onto the still-wet ink. As such, he immediately changed his mind and retired for the night, praying that the stowaways weren’t robbers who would steal everything in the cargo hold and make a break for it.

Victor found sleep easily, but the creature couldn’t help but get up once he had fallen prey to dreaming and begin to walk. He found his way to the upper decks, and began to just sit there and look out to the stars ahead. He never saw stars with Victor, the windows were always tightly shuttered in a way Victor had assured they hadn’t been when he had first moved in. The place was dry, and moldy, unlike out here where there was endless hope, and for that matter, fresh air where you really could feel the wind on your skin.

At some point during the night, if the creature stayed on the upper deck long enough, he would hear the sounds of many footsteps, drunken laughter, and occasional shouting. The crew had returned from their night out at the bar, ready to sleep off all the alcohol in their blood so they would be ready for the next day. Who knows what would happen if three dozen drunken sailers found a large, hulking form waiting for them.

The creature did indeed notice this, but as he didn't know his way back to the lower decks all he could do was scramble around the upper decks, finally choosing to rip the gangplank away from the docks, throwing it across to the other side and into the sea. If anyone saw him, they'd inevitably find Victor, and that would be bad. Victor's life mattered far more than his own in the end, and there was also the fact that in some small capacity, the creature himself didn't really want to get hurt. He climbed up the mainmast up into the crow''s nest, hoping that would keep him safe for now. The sailors were nearing, and they'd be confused for now, probably drunken as Victor was so often, and in a brief violent thought the creature wondered how many men he could throw over the side of the ship before they overwhelmed him.

Indeed, the sailors were confused. Some reported hearing a splash in the sea some time ago, while others joked that Captain Walton was afraid of what would happen if a bunch of drunk crew members came aboard. One large fellow was blamed for being the most likely to start up a fight on board, and consequently, a quarrel broke out. At the same time, there was another group that started to bet with each other to see who could make the jump all the way from the dock to the ship. The quarrel began to turn physical as the betters stared at the ship, all somewhat wary despite the alcohol in their blood.

The creature considered his options, all the way up here. He didn't really fit in this cramped space, however, he also didn't want to be caught. He couldn't go down, he couldn't go up certainly, so what were his options? Defend his territory? His leg was still injured and he had barely made his way up the mast without the sailors seeing him. He doubted, with the pain he was in, that he could make his way down. If anyone came up here he was over. But if they somehow just… didn't? Well, that would be a blessing. He watched the sailors below, moon illuminating his grotesque form and highlighting the worst features of his face. He hoped they just wouldn't see him up here.

Eventually, one of the sailors lunged forward. He leapt off the dock, aiming for the ship, and… fell straight into the water. While his crew mates cried out and reached out to help him, the one he’d betted with merely stood there and shouted after him, their words slurred, “You owe me thirty shillings!”
Hearing the commotion, the quarrel concerning the rest of the sailors dissolved, albeit bumpily. More sailors began to take their leaps of faith, and while most fell into the sea, a few managed to get a grip on the ship’s hull.

Meanwhile, in the captain’s cabin, Robert became conscious of the commotion outside. He groggily sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes.

The creature understood a few things. One, he had just caused a spot of trouble he wouldn't be able to escape from, and then Robert would probably kick him and Victor out and then Victor would make good on his promise of de-animating the creature and ripping him limb from limb until he was in as many pieces as Victor had started with, all for wanting some fresh air. He also understood, secondly, that if Victor didn't get to him the sailors would, and he'd probably die that way first. He wasn't really afraid of death, more afraid of the pain that would come with. He didn't want to die, obviously, but if it was death or long term pain he'd choose death. Could he die? That was a question for another time. Right now he needed to focus on getting past the pain and getting to safety, however that came about.

The hull was not a great climbing wall though, and more of the crew met the water. Some managed to use the barnacles or scuttles on the hull as footholds, and were able to climb farther than the others. The sailors still on the dock worked to rescue those who had fallen into the water.
Meanwhile, Robert got out of bed and walked out of his cabin, trying to wake himself up. The noise up ahead made doing that fairly easy though, and he rushed across the main deck to the edge of the ship, looking out over the dock. Cries of “Captain!” rose up from the crew as they spotted him.
“What in God’s name is going on here?” He called. “What are you all doing?”
“There’s no gangplank, so we can’t come aboard!” someone called out.
“Rubbish!” Robert shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sure I left it out for you.”
But he looked, and sure enough, there was no way for him to get from the ship to the dock without jumping into the sea. A noise of confusion left him.
“I think we have a spare,” he said. “Let me go get it.”
He found it somewhere on the prow and set into place to allow passage into the ship. It was a bit heavy though, and Robert rubbed his arms as he went to release the rope ladder for those still in the water. The crew cheered, and almost immediately flooded the deck.