forum Out in Space (classic lit and sci fi!) (CLOSED, stalkers welcome)

Started August 14, 2020 by @ElderGod-Icefire

tune

"Some man and…undead being flung the door into my face," Victor said. "It was an altogether unpleasant experience, and one I cannot recommend."
He leaned over the sink and washed the blood from his hands and face.
"Luckily enough, I don't think it's broken," he added, "Now, if you don't mind me asking, why were you summoned here?"

"Ah. That would be Eden and…the other Victor. Victor, the other one, is sick and they had to leave." They replied. "And I was summoned here to help with the Clay Man, of course. I work with the police force sometimes. Free-lance work, I get paid by the case. I assume that's why I'm here."

"Ah, I see," Victor said. He mentally filed away the names to research later. What were the odds of that, that the other man had been named Victor too? "I had a run-in with the police once, back on Enna. Apparently my not making eye contact was 'suspicious behavior', although I think the circumstances of holding a shovel in a graveyard was a bit justified. I'm still a bit unsure of how I'm supposedly tied to this 'Clay Man', perhaps I'll have to search for old family records and such. There must be some sort of connection."

Sherlock nodded their head a little bit. "Yes. It seems everyone here has some ties." They ran a hand through their dark curls, looking at Victor. "I can help you with the research, if you like." They shrugged a little bit.

"An extra pair of eyes would certainly come in handy, especially if yours are better than mine." Victor gave a soft laugh, then glanced into the mirror. "Stars, I look ghastly. I ought to change my shirt into something less corpselike. If you'll just wait in the hallway for a minute, I should be quite quick."
Victor stepped into the hallway, scanning the writing on the doors for his name. Finally, towards the end of the hall, there was a door marked with Victor Frankenstein in a delicate scrawl. He ducked into the room and closed the door, then glanced around. It was impeccably neat, the tables peppered with small potted plants and some stacked textbooks. He opened the closet door and took out a black turtleneck sweater. How odd, he thought, that it's one of the few materials that isn't dreadfully uncomfortable.
He tugged off the bloodstained shirt and pulled on the sweater, then returned to the hallway.

Sherlock did as asked, tapping one foot vaguely as they waited. When Victor came.back, they inclined their head in greeting. "I hope your room is the way you like it?" They asked, raising their eyebrows faintly in question. They couldn't really do anything if the room wasn't, but the question was a polite one, in any case.

"Uncomfortably so," Victor replied. "I cannot help but be worried by just how accurate it was. Tell me, are you sensitive to any sort of cloth? I absolutely loathe material that's any sort of itchy, it makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Yet from what I could tell, my closet was entirely full of clothing that was to my liking, and I'm stuck wondering if it was a coincidence or deliberate."

Sherlock blinked. "Well, I have a preference for clothing like the ones I am wearing right now, and my closet was stocked with the styles I enjoy wearing. So….yes, it was deliberate. All of our rooms are rather personalized to us, at least in terms of colors and such." They shrugged a little bit. "And I am not really sensitive, no, though I prefer fabrics like linen or cotton, or silk or satin."

"I see. It's a bit worrisome that Moriarty knows so much about us, isn't it?" Victor asked, trying to keep his worry from slipping into his voice. "I mean, I hardly know the man, and yet he knows things about me that even Henr–even my dearest friends don't know."
He tried not to think too much about Henry. The two hadn't seen each other in person for years, and the thought of him always brought a twinge of sadness to Victor's heart. He felt guilty about that, and guiltier still that it was Henry who he thought of more often, Henry as opposed to Justine, Elizabeth, Margaret, and even his own brothers.
He supposed it had always been Henry who'd mattered the most.

"It is, yes." Sherlock agreed. "Especially since I've always been…well, a rather private person. So the the idea that he knows so much about each of us is…worrisome, to say the least." They nodded their head a little bit, looking over at Victor. They wondered if they should send a note to John, and let him know where they were.

"As am I. Private, I mean. And so this whole affair worries me, especially since he won't magically lose access to the information once it's ended," Victor said. "Perhaps I'm just paranoid, but…"
But he knows that I have violated scientific law. He knows that–as far as Enna is concerned–I could be a murderer. He knows that that Creature is out there still, and likely hunting me. And he could use it all against me and my family and ruin us.
"But I'm sure he must be using something as leverage for most of us, if not all of us. He certainly is for me."

"Yes." Sherlock agreed softly. Their drug history, for one thing. That was their biggest problem. They indulged in it when they wanted to experiments with their own mind. Using drugs to speed it up or slow it down, make themself normal or make themself even faster and smarter. "It's worrisome indeed."

(Gtg soon sorry)