Vampunk
sʇɐq ןooɔ ǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ ƃuıƃuɐɥ
One would think a prestigious house like Miss' Stoker's would be found surrounded by its own ilk, deep in the heart of London, in one of the wealthiest parts of town where one couldn't take two steps without finding themselves amidst some ladies and gentlemen having some fancy ball.
But instead the fabled literature club was located at the outskirts of the town, far away from its official registration office who had been flooded with application ever since the Queen herself was seen attending every once in a while.
Everyone wanted a piece of that prestige, to be part of something so exclusive one's peers would turn green with envy.
But Miss Bethany Mary Anne Stoker was extremely picky when it came to accepting new applications and her club remained a close-knit community of those with a passion for literature...
And keeping the stuff of these stories just that...fiction.
It was yet another sunny spring afternoon at the Stoker estate, the garden with its tall, thorny bushes blooming in healthy greens and all the colors of the rainbow as flowers sprouted from every spot of unattended soil.
And yet, instead of picnicking in the garden as so many high-born ladies would, Miss Bethany remained inside the vast interior of the mansion.
Resting on her favorite armchair, a rich crimson in color and carved of an ancient willow tree, the head of the literature club let her vermillion eyes wander over many pages dealing with unrequited love, romance and tragedy.
A favorite pastime of hers as the dark-haired woman reveled in the delicious heartache that was topic of oh so many recently published stories.
A faint smile accenting her pale cheeks as her lips parted to reveal a set of pearly fangs, allowing herself to chuckle in amusement over another oh so obvious twist leading to tragedy.
But her delight would not last for long as there were duties she had to attend as the head of the club.
Certain responsibilities that would lead her to close the novella and neatly put it into the extended hand of a decorative armor, wondering if one of the club members might possess the antiquity to try and give her a fright.
Snatching her coat off the armchair, Miss Bethany would drape it over her slender shoulders, the piece of clothing obviously not tailored to her, or any woman for that matter. And yet whenever one would ask her of the coat's, which held a lot of sentimental value, origin, the vampire would dodge the question or come up with a different tale every time someone would pry.
Making her way through the deserted halls, the blinds not allowing any sunlight to peer through, Miss Stoker would arrive at the large communal chamber, a sturdy oaken table forming the center of the room with one peculiar letter resting on top of an Iron plate.
Raising an eyebrow, the vampire would come to weigh the letter between two fingers, the familiar royal seal pressed into the cold wax.
"Oh would you look at that, seems spring is not just a time of frolicking..." Bethany Mary Anne Stoker mused with a smile as she took a seat, knowing that it was about time for the club's weekly meeting.
And it looked like they would be dealing with something far more interesting than tales of romance this time, her clawed finger edging the seal off the letter as she retrieved the document.
Crimson eyes widening at its contents, for this was certainly a peculiar matter.
But instead the fabled literature club was located at the outskirts of the town, far away from its official registration office who had been flooded with application ever since the Queen herself was seen attending every once in a while.
Everyone wanted a piece of that prestige, to be part of something so exclusive one's peers would turn green with envy.
But Miss Bethany Mary Anne Stoker was extremely picky when it came to accepting new applications and her club remained a close-knit community of those with a passion for literature...
And keeping the stuff of these stories just that...fiction.
It was yet another sunny spring afternoon at the Stoker estate, the garden with its tall, thorny bushes blooming in healthy greens and all the colors of the rainbow as flowers sprouted from every spot of unattended soil.
And yet, instead of picnicking in the garden as so many high-born ladies would, Miss Bethany remained inside the vast interior of the mansion.
Resting on her favorite armchair, a rich crimson in color and carved of an ancient willow tree, the head of the literature club let her vermillion eyes wander over many pages dealing with unrequited love, romance and tragedy.
A favorite pastime of hers as the dark-haired woman reveled in the delicious heartache that was topic of oh so many recently published stories.
A faint smile accenting her pale cheeks as her lips parted to reveal a set of pearly fangs, allowing herself to chuckle in amusement over another oh so obvious twist leading to tragedy.
But her delight would not last for long as there were duties she had to attend as the head of the club.
Certain responsibilities that would lead her to close the novella and neatly put it into the extended hand of a decorative armor, wondering if one of the club members might possess the antiquity to try and give her a fright.
Snatching her coat off the armchair, Miss Bethany would drape it over her slender shoulders, the piece of clothing obviously not tailored to her, or any woman for that matter. And yet whenever one would ask her of the coat's, which held a lot of sentimental value, origin, the vampire would dodge the question or come up with a different tale every time someone would pry.
Making her way through the deserted halls, the blinds not allowing any sunlight to peer through, Miss Stoker would arrive at the large communal chamber, a sturdy oaken table forming the center of the room with one peculiar letter resting on top of an Iron plate.
Raising an eyebrow, the vampire would come to weigh the letter between two fingers, the familiar royal seal pressed into the cold wax.
"Oh would you look at that, seems spring is not just a time of frolicking..." Bethany Mary Anne Stoker mused with a smile as she took a seat, knowing that it was about time for the club's weekly meeting.
And it looked like they would be dealing with something far more interesting than tales of romance this time, her clawed finger edging the seal off the letter as she retrieved the document.
Crimson eyes widening at its contents, for this was certainly a peculiar matter.