𝙸 𝙰𝙼 𝙽𝙾 𝙾𝙽𝙴 .

please tag me as  #dakkarrp  when writing starters & interacting in general . i don’t want to get mixed up in tags .

solo / private writing blog for  captain nemo / prince dakkar  , conceptually based in the league of extraordinary gentlemen comics . characterization taken from jules verne’s original novels .

navigated by star . personals , do not reblog my content .

         DARK   FEATURES  WOULD   PEER   OVER   WEBBED   FAN  .    not   very   fond   he   says   ,   yet   here   he   is   …   perhaps    there    has   been   an   exception    to   this   rule   ?    her   movements    remained    minimal    ,    almost   inhuman   at   how   still   she   managed   to    be   .   behind    her    fan    would    those   crimson   lips   curl    .    ‘    i   see   .   ‘    her   voice   began   ,    ‘   how   unfortunate   …   ‘    a   brief   pause   .   ‘   —   for   you   .   ‘    the   intensity   of   her   gaze    ,    eyes   did   not   cease   their   stare   .   this   certainly   was   proving   to   be   interesting   &    the   witch   was   beyond   amused   .   for   a   mortal   man   ,   he   truly   was   inspiring   with   the   confidence   &   daring   tone   .

’   you   say   that   yet   you’ve   already   stepped   into   my   web   .   i   wonder   how   long   you’ll   survive   .   ‘    words   were   playful   ,   mirroring   the   flirty   tone   that   he   had   given   her   .   ‘   you’ve   little   idea   of   who   i   am   ,   so   i   find   this   all   rather   daring   .    ‘

        “  of  course  i  know  you  .  you’re  ------  arachne  ,  yes  ?  a  haughty  woman  cursed  by  jealous  athena  to  weave  her  web  forever  .    ”    quite  the  guess  .  eyes  gleaming  with  their  sharp  intellect .  an  unearthly  example  of  knowledge .    dakkar  had  casually  begun  another  work  ,  this  time  ,  not  drawing  his  eyes  away  from  it  .  however ,  no  other  knowledge  had  been  spoken  of  as  to  how  he  would’ve  known  such  a  thing  .  not  a  curious  grin  nor  an  explanation  of  his  workings  .  merely  mystery  &  perhaps  ,  a  slight  power  .  the  prince  hummed  ,  then  ,  almost  muttering  to  himself  .  his  hand  moved  again  ,  drawing  something  anew  .  “  or  so  the  greeks  classically  say  .  but  if  i’m  to  prefer  any  eight-limbed  creature  on  this  planet  ,  it  would  be  the  octopus  .  they  possess  a  very  high  intelligence  ,  too  .  ”

        not  that  the  strange  histories  of  the  world  were  to  be  challenged  or  contended  with  .  at  his  quarter  of  years  ,  was  this  the  more  he’d  been  searching  for  ?  the  thing  had  merely  crossed  his  mind  &  left  .  everything  else  had  felt  to  be  a  glittering  distraction  .  he  hadn’t  seen  himself  as  cold  ;  rather  ,  fixated  on  something  further  .  a  man  destined  for  greatness  ,  whichever  that  would  come  about  .  the  mechanism’s  great  designer  ,  hands  prodding  at  the  clockwork  gears  of  the  world  .   this  existence  ,  one  grand  machine .

     he is noted to have “ left without a trace “ amidst the destruction of his homeland & kingdom , but prince dakkar may otherwise be presumed dead by any outside source . i mean , it’s very likely , given the death of his entire family . though his body would never be found , it could’ve been argued that prince dakkar’s corpse was lost among other casualties . not that the text really supports this , but as i said : likely .

           SEAMSTRESS   SO   WICKED    ,   DEATH    HUNG    OVER   HER    .    woman   of   poison   silk   &   rich   perfumes    .   the    witch   found   refuge   in    france    ,   to   hide   ( temporarily )    &   rebuild   her   forces   .    while    arachnophobia    would    gain    significance    as   time    spun   on    ,    her    madness    would    soon    spread    &    devour    minds     .    how    enchanting    was    he    ,    to    entice    her    in    such   a    manner   !    truly   ,    as    if    he    used    magic   himself    .    ‘   you’re   quite   the   charming    individual   ,   ‘    voice   began   ,    ‘   …   to   lure   the    spider    in    ,    how   interesting    .    ‘    tongue    matching    his    own    ,    language    of   the    current   land   .    ‘    i    can   see    that    you’re   no   ordinary    man   .    but   ,    before   we   continue   i   should   warn   you   ,   ‘    her    ruby    lips    curled    slightly    ,    ‘    my   bite   is   deadly   .   ‘

        “  &  you’re  not  a  woman  of  typical  european  commonalities  .  that  much  i  can  tell  ,  ”  dakkar  flirted  lightly  .  “  your  accent  may  not  even  be  from  someplace  real  .  for  the  world  ,  indeed  ,  is  vast  .  i’ve  seen  much  of  it  .  ”    said  the  man  ,  broad  strokes  of  lead  now  adorning  a  clean  sheet  .  the  paper  slowly  darkened  ;  his  mind  ,  hands  ,  busy  .  in  moments  ,  something  new  was  sketched  .  so  quickly  ,  even  as  the  sun  was  sinking  .  “  yet  ,  truly  nothing  matches  .  a  woman  of  mystery  .  ”

        the  evening  begun  its  descent  :  skies  of  creeping  lilac  gathering  painterly  clouds  .  she  didn’t  scare  him  ,  for  there  was  little  that  could  .  but  what  she’d  done  ,  was  catch  the  prince’s  eye  .  more  so  than  the  maidens  of  nearby  villages  ,  nor  his  university’s  companions  .  &  what  was  to  be  known  was  what  truly  captivated  him  .  always  deeply  so  .  a  brief  glance  ,  from  his  workings  .  how  rare  .

                      𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈   𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂   𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷   𝙳𝙴𝚂𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽   .

bold    what    applies    to    your    muse  ,     italicize    what    sometimes   /   verse    dependent    applies    to    them  .     repost  ,     don’t    reblog  .

𝐖𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 .    the wildness of open spaces .  withered trees with limbs like spiders .   abandoned homes .   two souls that are the same .    dying young .    the ghost of a girl .   revenge that does not satisfy .   tapping at the window .   knowing too much of the pains of others .   cruelty that doesn’t fade .   an unresolved past .   marrying , but not for love .   rolling hills .   hair flying in the blustering wind .   sudden illness .   disinterment .   the deep pain of loss .   carrying a namesake that is not your own .   facing a storm head on .    an accent thick upon the tongue .   a figure on the horizon , shrouded by mist .   aging walls and rotting floorboards .   intruding upon the wake of destruction .   wasting away .   together in death .

𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄 .    the madwoman in the attic .   candle-flame and burn stains .   soft laughter .   a fire roaring in the hearth .   silence in the halls .   folded hands over modest skirts .   the pain of being wronged .   a wedding interrupted at the altar .   dark brows .    a horse riding up the path .   the isolation of a church .   gray skies .   landscape as bleak as your soul .   finding sanctuary .   a bird flying free from its cage .   discovering your worth .   returning to a place that feels like home .   falling in love in spite of yourself .   schoolyards full of children .   lying in bed while clasping a loved one’s hands in yours .   hopeless prayers .   hiding in an alcove to read .   timid but strong .   being true to oneself above all .

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 .    grand prose .   the glory of nature .   playing god .   the spark of madness that drives creation .   stripped down to shirtsleeves .   the gritty streets of the city .   staying awake too long .   snow-capped peaks .   retreating from society .   innocent recollections that become twisted .   a lost paradise .   lightning across a dark sky .   to be destined for one alone .   shouting from the top of a mountain .   strewn corpses .    the implements of a surgeon scattered across a surface .   a bride on her wedding night .   books left open to gather dust , pulled from shelves .   dark circles beneath the eyes .   the deathly pallor of a corpse .   things alive that shouldn’t be .   desiring a love of your own .   feeling your soul restored with a bliss that cannot last .   icy terrain .  unsatisfactory endings .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀 .    the long , fatal crack across a mirror .  unearthly voices echoing through the dark .   a duet .   snow falling against statues of angels .   the lament of a violin’s strings .   resurrected hopes .   the sensation of being watched .  candles blowing out on their own .   masquerade revelers .   unrequited love .   the snapping of a noose .   an obscured face .  the scintillating light of an ornate chandelier .  mysterious and inexplicable catastrophes .   watching your dreams shatter .  curtains drawing back from a stage .   devils that are angels .   a soft kiss on the forehead .   scratches of red ink .   long capes and gloved hands .   retreating to the rooftop .   being led in a trance .   love as your undoing and your salvation .

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐘 .     the turrets of a gothic mansion made of stone .   portraits looming above the stairwell .   suspicion of all around you .  dreaming of grandeur , awaking to normalcy .   the sound of a carriage coming up the street .   top hats and fine suits .   dancing at a ball .   the lavish throes of society .   the thrill of being introduced .   a mystery that goes ignored .   chests that harbor secrets .  old love letters .   thumbing through the pages of a novel .   disappointing the one you admire .   the appearance of indifference .   having your heart played with .   grand rooms housing past memories .   mistaken first impressions .   affluent personages .   kissing in the garden .

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀 .     your life draining out of you .   a castle on a lonely precipice .   fog spreading through woodlands .   dutifully kept journals .   enthusiastic correspondence with one you love .   blood dripping down the chin .   a tongue stroking sharp teeth .  the howling of wolves coming closer .   wreathes of garlic hung about the room .   rosary beads and crucifixes .   violence that spans centuries .   tall figures that cast long shadows .   disturbing the silence of a grave .   the sensation of leaving your homeland .   not dead , only sleeping .   last wishes .   a long and arduous journey .   an ominous ship at sea .   the sound of shovels in the basement .   eerie lights that obstruct your path .   goblets of blood red wine .   a stake through the heart .   to be at peace at last .