#zoophagist

●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ●○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●○○ | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●○ | TRUST

He’d left her at the hands of the brutes she’d once loved. Anger had yet to be squashed from such betrayal from those she’d loved. Now, more than ever, she wanted to find the man who’d taken her living life from her. She was an orphan in this new world and she was in desperate need of guidance. 

☆  Getting them something they need before they ask for it.

“ Ren, could you ge - ? “ Her voice petered off as she turned around to see the pot for the plants already held out to her. He must’ve been prepared. Or already holding it out to her.

It is Renfield’s very STUDY to seem unfriendly to Jameson, and not out of some lingering sense of discomfort. No, that’s long settled. His is simply a combative attitude, and malcontent is the state in which he’s most comfortable, if manic humor does not readily present itself. And so it is that he continues to thwart any and every intimation of peace between them, and so it is that Jameson manages to please him.

“I won’t stand for empty flattery. WORTHLESS, all of it. What do you know of me that you could like? Nothing.I have seen to that, I think.”

WELL,   HE   HAS   A   POINT.   jameson’s flattery is about as meaningful as ---- well, most flattery. which is to say, it hardly means anything, and contains almost nothing of truth. he doesn’t particularly like renfield, he thinks. not in the conventional way at least : not in the way people should like the people that they hang around ( even if the company is, apparently, unwanted. ) the challenge instead makes him stay ---- the confrontational conversation, the petty cruelty of it all, is something to which he’s unavoidably drawn. what can he say? kindness is so distant that he’s stopped trying to reach it.

He must tell her.

He mustn’t.

Renfield had not expected another visit from Mrs. Harker. (Lovely Mrs. Harker!) He’d given her his final words, a wish that he should never see her again, and he had meant it. (Kind Mrs. Harker!) While her very presence was a light in the midst of this world’s encroaching darkness, he knows that her being here now means the worst thing imaginable — that the good doctor’s friends have not removed her, and will not save her from Him. (Dying Mrs. Harker!) And if his warning has not been enough to spur them to action, he must try again, but… He is incapable.

To think of speaking the words that must be said brings a pounding, aching pain in his head and stirs a swell of nausea. The Master’s power is too strong. He cannot answer her uncertainties — does not even know if she realizes he has those answers for which to ask.

“I am afraid, my dear, that the darkness is always in pursuit of that which SHINES the brightest. It is the way of the world. Perhaps you do not need to comprehend it, but only toescape it. You should not be here, with me, Mrs. Harker. Does the doctor know about this visit?” 

She shouldn’t be here. 

Dr. Seward would thoroughly disapprove of this meeting, especially without bestowing his explicit permission. There was no telling how her queries could impact Mr Renfield, after the last warning he had bestowed upon them had evidently not been heeded. 

 In truth, she would not be present here if she did not decree it absolutely necessary. Further harm being imposed on poor Renfield was the last thing that the young bride intended for him. But with the men absent in the strange quests and her feeling more and more fearful with each hour that drew them closer to nightfall, Mina hoped that something... Anything he would say could appease her fears. Or at least offer answers on how to keep those fears at bay, at least until Jonathan returned to her side. 

“How can I escape the darkness if I do not know where it resides? I fear, Mr Renfield, that if I were to try to escape the darkness you speak of that it would only follow me... Find me... Lure me.” Her night terrors had spoke of such things. Visions of the shadow of a creature she could not name falling upon her window pane. Dogs howling as if the devil himself awoke them. Lucy... Even sweet Lucy had come to haunt her dreams. No matter day or night, when she slept, terror thrived. 

“Please, I am frightened, Mr Renfield.”

     He doesn’t quite know what possessed him. Of all the possible replies to such a personal and profound revelation (one indeed which they share) this is what he chooses? And yet as he questions it rationally the reaction still feels right. A bewildering thought but one he sets aside as he reaches instead for Renfield’s hand.

    “It is nothing,” he says. Unlike other too humble demurrals of his, this is proportionate. “That is, I understand. Do you have any memory of your parents? I have only a few remaining to me, yet I cannot think it would be easier not to have known them at all, only different.” In keeping with the rest of his generosity, he extends a hand within reach, gift without expectation (or indeed hope) of reward.

    Secrecy and wariness of touch he knows all too well, visitors that have outstayed their welcome and still refuse to leave. Their shared room is rich in silence, nothing but the remains of a fire dying. Valjean has risked his own freedom once so precious for this man’s sake, they have only circled closer in flight, but both their instincts call for concealment, reservation of trust.