Chapter Text
Journal entry by Mina Harker, dated June 23rd.
Things have settled quite nicely as of now. Lucy and I have been in correspondence, and are planning on having everyone meet up again on the first of July. It will be the first time we’ve seen them in a while, as she and her paramours have elected to stay in Geneva for a while.
Jonathan and I have been given the role of caring for and living in her manor for as long as we are want to. We have finally procured a mattress that is capable of supporting the combined weight of us all, us being me, Jonathan, and Samson, of course. As such, we have also obtained a new bed frame and headboard. Samson has spent a fair amount of time admiring the intricate designs carved into the varnished oak. I never fail to marvel at the sheer amount of wonder he still regards the world with.
Back to the topic at hand, though, we haven’t seen half of our little group in some time. Lucy and her lovers have retired to Elizabeth’s estate for some time. Henry and the sisters reside in Geneva as well. It is actually their joint union that brings us together. It will be far from a typical marriage for a myriad of reasons, but that isn’t something we’re unfamiliar with. Victor is with his family, I am told. The only sign of his existence has been the occasional letter assigned to Samson, and the parcel he sent some weeks ago that contained the glove with mechanical digits I am now accustomed to using. His version of an apology, I suppose. I’m relieved to know that his attentions have shifted towards woodworking rather than actual flesh and bone, at least.
We’ve been in good contact with Margaret and Robert. We visit often enough for her children to start referring to us as their aunt and uncles. Margaret has told me that the sensation of overwhelming want I feel whenever that happens is called baby fever. I admit, I always imagined having a child with Jonathan, but not for a while now. After all, we’ve just gotten back into something that resembles a routine. Still, it is something I consider greatly when I see those little faces light up with joy when we arrive. Renfield has been staying with Robert, while Lilith has been staying with the Savilles. To say that Francis was shocked by Lilith would have been an understatement, I’m almost certain of it. Regardless, she remains there and is doted on endlessly by Margaret. I’ve been told she has procured a job as a bodyguard for a brothel. Hardly what polite society would call respectable work, but I hardly care for what polite society thinks anymore, and I doubt Margaret does either. I find that this arrangement works quite well for Lilith. She enjoys violence, for better or worse, but at least she has a good and proper outlet in those who mistreat the women of the night. It’s better than nothing, and I’ve borne witness to the countless letters that flood in for her from those madams she protected.
Renfield has worked, reluctantly, with Jack in order to make his asylum more hospitable for those sent to it, and I am told that he’s often irritable, but that the general mood of the staff and residents have improved. Robert has yet to give up on his lifelong dream of sailing, but he is waiting for the right opportunity to reveal itself before he rushes into it. I’ve seen on occasion letters to Victor that he’s written, but most of the lines have been crossed out and are illegible. It reminds me of unsent letters Jonathan wrote me at the beginning of our courtship.
Everything has settled, and I am so very thankful that it has, but I find I’m itching to get back into motion. I can only be content with being stationary for so long, it seems.
Van Helsing will not be joining us in our reunion, sadly. Too much happening in Amsterdam I suppose. Quincy will, though, and I’m grateful for it.
We shall meet in Paris. The sisters have decided so, as they wish to be wed in those horrid catacombs I’ve heard so much about! Though they may act far more human than before, their morbid interests haven’t ended, it seems.
I shall write again soon, and hopefully out of want rather than necessity.
End entry.
Journal entry by Lucy Holmwood, dated June 27th.
We’re on a ship that will take us to Paris, and I finally am able to see Mina again! The color has returned to her cheeks and she is of a most cheerful manner. The scar on her forehead, the one from Jonathan’s cross, has started to heal and fade. Though it serves as a permanent reminder of that horrid night, I imagine it also serves as a reminder of her husband's devotion. As if that ever had been called into question.
I was delighted to find that Samson had come aboard the ship with them, in broad daylight. Yes, he drew a wide range of eyes, but with the oddity of the scarred woman and the pale man flanking him on either side, the novelty was of the whole group, not just him. I’m most certain that the novelty of the sighting only increased as they approached us. My own scars have healed well, though they are still most noticeable. Elizabeth was dressed in tailored breeches, and Arthur himself linked arm in arm with us. I broke free to hug Mina, and she laughed in a delightful way. Oh, how I missed her!
Behind them, Jack and Quincy were following, seemingly caught up in their own conversation. The most normal appearing of our group so far. Then, at the very end, the Saville’s, Robert, and Mr. Renfield. They all produced their tickets, and the poor ferryman looked as if he were going to faint. I heard a great commotion behind me, and found that the guests of honor has arrived. The brides, turned sisters, turned brides once more, were crowding around Henry. Their gloved hands and sunhat covered heads practically blocked out the man altogether. Still, it would be impossible to not see the almost obnoxious colors of his suit, vibrant and almost glowing. I could hear his laughing, though it was strained from the effort it took to hold all three of the women.
Justine was the one who led Victor out into the light from the cramped room he had holed himself up in. Elizabeth has been helping him with his memory, and though it has improved rapidly, he still has lapses here and there. The only reason I knew it was him walking out with that darling Justine was because of the creaking his artificial leg made as he took unsteady steps. He was also dressed in gloves and a hat, but he was a far cry from the sisters and their soft pastels. I nearly fell when Lilith rushed forward and embraced him, cooing sounds that vaguely mimicked the word ‘father’. He stiffly tapped her shoulder and replied before being set down by the colossal woman. Samson was the next to move. He crouched down to embrace the man, and once more Victor reciprocated in his jerky manner. It was only when he joined the rest of the group was he picked up again, this time by Robert, and swung around affectionately. Elizabeth laughed at her cousin’s popularity, and laid her head on Arthur’s shoulder.
We are now well on our way to Paris, and I’m overjoyed to see everyone once again. Though I’m not too thrilled by the idea of those catacombs the sisters have gushed so much about, I’ve been told that we shall also be going to an opera house, and am much excited about that particular thought. It’s been a great amount of time since I’ve been to theater of any kind, and I would much like to go again.
For now, however, I focus on my companions, and feel my heart rise with the greatest of joy. Though the exact mechanisms of what brought us together were horrible, and there is no overstating just how horrible they truly were, I don’t regret them having happened. We have all survived, and we are all together, closer than I ever could have imagined in any lifetime. I am grateful to them all.
End entry.
Journal entry by Jonathan Harker, dated June 29th.
I woke up in the night to find Samson missing from our shared room on the boat. I found him on the deck, leaning carefully against the railing. His hair was down, and the wind was blowing it away from his face. His cheeks and nose were tinged with a darker flush, from the chill. His eyes were content, and on his lips was a soft smile. I, too, felt the corners of my mouth lift when I joined him.
“It’s truly a beautiful night, isn’t it?” I said. It was true, even if I wasn’t looking at the sky. I needn't have, for every celestial movement was reflected perfectly in his luminous eyes.
“It is.” He answered, voice smooth now that he’s been using it frequently. I leaned against him, and we stood there for some hours, simply watching the stars.
End entry.