Post by R.M. Renfield on Mar 3, 2008 22:02:53 GMT -5
Click, click, click, went the sound of boots on the old burned hardwood floor. R.M. paused and looked around the old abandon mill. Make sense she would have found her way to the place, considering her odd fascination with life. Here a beast was created with out an asexual or sexual process. Oh how extraordinary Dr. Frankenstein must be, if not crazy. But if he was crazy, R.M. would have only held him in higher respects. She strode across the room to a table covered in ashes and shattered glasses. "Tisk, tisk. What a shame. You would Frankenstein would clean up after himself before kicking the bucket," R.M. said with a small soft chuckle.
R.M. shook her short blond hair and glanced around for something interesting. She wore dark green waistcoat vest with a high black velvet shawl collar along with black trousers. A 1830's style. If you never knew her, you might have thought she looked like a handsome, yet boyish looking young man. With a bored sigh R.M. planted herself on a unsafe looking stool and looked around. "You would think this place would be more interesting," R.M. said out loud. Her voice echoing though the dump called a mill. She began humming an unnoticeable song and kicking her legs back and forth. She looked so childish it was almost creepy. In a flash she had retrieved a dagger and thusted it across the room. Blood oozed from the mouse it hit. "Opps, my bad mousie, thought you were something else," R.M. said in a cheerful voice as if she had just bumped into him rather then kill him.
Transylvania soon wouldn't be so boring if R.M. had anything to say about it. She had just recently joined a vampire named Dracula with a vision of creating a werewolf army. With something so absurd she knew it would lead to something interesting. He seemed more then pleased to let her serve him, but that might be because his werewolf numbers were lower then the bottom of a well. She didn't even know what he was planning and such, but she knew it would be interesting to watch and participate in this war.
R.M. shook her short blond hair and glanced around for something interesting. She wore dark green waistcoat vest with a high black velvet shawl collar along with black trousers. A 1830's style. If you never knew her, you might have thought she looked like a handsome, yet boyish looking young man. With a bored sigh R.M. planted herself on a unsafe looking stool and looked around. "You would think this place would be more interesting," R.M. said out loud. Her voice echoing though the dump called a mill. She began humming an unnoticeable song and kicking her legs back and forth. She looked so childish it was almost creepy. In a flash she had retrieved a dagger and thusted it across the room. Blood oozed from the mouse it hit. "Opps, my bad mousie, thought you were something else," R.M. said in a cheerful voice as if she had just bumped into him rather then kill him.
Transylvania soon wouldn't be so boring if R.M. had anything to say about it. She had just recently joined a vampire named Dracula with a vision of creating a werewolf army. With something so absurd she knew it would lead to something interesting. He seemed more then pleased to let her serve him, but that might be because his werewolf numbers were lower then the bottom of a well. She didn't even know what he was planning and such, but she knew it would be interesting to watch and participate in this war.
