Arabella+Vane

Directly before her Embrace...
Blood, pulsing violently in my veins as I approach what I know I should not. Monsieur Dubious sees but chooses to focus on something irrelevant. He's right, of course.

Blood, flooding to the surface of my exposed face and hands as I enter the biting cold of the night above deck. There is no reason that I should be here, and indeed I have very much let reason go in this moment. Now, two worlds of irrationality fight for their absolute needs: my body, my own life screaming to be preserved from what lurks here; and the madness of a dream which has taken captive my loveless, lustless, helpless, hopeless existence.

Perhaps I go now to die. How sad. Still, self-preservation is a silly thing in the face of transformation. And certainly I go to become something else.

What else? Who cares? Anything but this.

Someone behind me. My blood screams for me to turn around and make this thing disappear. I stay as I am. I doubt that I really have a choice in his staying or leaving. I feel an immense power in his voice: a gentle, lilting, monstrous presence. His gloved hand takes mine with a lover's tenderness, yet somehow I know this hand has been used to crush others. If Mr. Hudson was charming and dangerous, how much more his master?

I speak the words. My silly, childish fantasies and desires are fulfilled as I seal my doom.

My God, what have I done?