#Bela and Donna are in such unique positions

[lepusrufus]

22 / Laura

22. What kind of tattoos, piercings, birthmarks, freckles, and other such unique physical features do they have?

As we all know, Laura is covered in freckles head to toe (Bela thinks it's adorable). She has a scar on her left leg from when she slipped in the garden one rainy day as a teen and landed in a weirdly positioned branch. A barely visible scar on her lower lip from when she fell as a small child. Aand a scar on her arm from when she tried (and failed) to help Donna make one of her dolls with blades.

As all maidens, she gets the Dimitrescu house tattoo on her upper back, close to the nape. Laura however adds the Beneviento crest underneath too. She has no piercings but if she could, she would get an eyebrow piercing and multiple ones in her ears.

[assassinshadowgirl]

Prisoner

After playing the castle demo, I have the sudden urge to write this short fic.

Set in the AU where Mia dies in the Baker incident, leaving Ethan under the BSAA protection. Now kidnapped and brought to the Village against his will, Ethan began to fear for his life.

Alcina Dimitrescu, Salvatore Moreau, Donna Beneviento and her puppet awaits patiently for Karl Heisenberg to enter their gathering room.

He grumbles softly as he sat down with his trusty giant hammer resting on his shoulder. He then adjusted his sunglasses before looking at the other three House Lords.

My dear little brother," Alcina began. "How long do you intend to play with him in your games?"

Karl lowered his sunglasses and smirked. "Till I'm satisfied."

"Your so childish. You promised me that you will hand that man-thing over to me in a week. You better keep your word."

"Well I might want to change my mind." Karl joked. Alcina glared at him.

Salvatore, Donna and Angie remained quiet. Yet they can sensed the serious intensity growing in the room. If these two gets into a fight, they are so screwed...

"If that's the case, I will just take him from you today whether you like it or not." Alcina replied.

"Oohh scary." Karl brushed it off casually.

Alcina took a puff from her grand, expensive cigarette holder. "So where is Ethan Winters now?"

Karl pointed to the door at the back.

Alcina got up and headed towards it. Angie hopped onto Donna's arms, gesturing her to follow. Salvatore's the next and Karl followed last...

She opened the door and there was Ethan sleeping on a soft floor mattress soundly with a Lycan guarding nearby.

Alcina turned back to Karl. "You drugged him? "

"Yeah. He was putting quite a fight when I brought him here."

Alcina entered and bent down to examine the sleeping young man. She could sniff the unique blood coursing though his veins. Oh how she wish she can taste it. To have it fresh before it goes to stale.

She glanced over her shoulder to Karl. "I will take him to my castle now. I would love to introduce him to my daughters. They are so dying to meet him."

Karl seems unwillingly to hand over his prisoner. "You still haven't given up the idea of screwing him around in private did you?" He asked.

"And you still given up your ideas of toying with him in your senseless games even after he gave you the slip twice?" Alcina shot back. "I heard that you and your Lycans took quite awhile to recapture him."

Karl snarled while Alcina just smirked in triumph.

"Fine." Karl waved his hand. "You can have him. But I want him back when the time comes!"

"I will make sure of that." And with that, she scooped the unconscious Ethan up in her arms in bridal style and walked off with him.

"Alcina!" Angie called out. The tall vampire lady looked back. "Do you think you can bring him to our House next? We never have any visitors so I wish you can consider our humble request."

Alcina smiled. "I will think about it."

Salvatore started to make some balderdash sounds as he hopped and clapped in excitement.

Karl rolled up his eyes. "Can someone translate what he's saying?"

Hearing that sarcasm remark, Salvatore made a disappointed sound next.

Alcina shook her head before leaving and making her way back to her domain with her captive. The moment she stepped through the front double doors, she was greeted by her three daughters.

"Mother's back!" Bela bowed in respect.

"Ohhh she brought someone with her!" Cassandra said.

"Is it that man-thing she was telling us about?" Daniela rushed over to see.

Alcina beamed down at her children. "Now, now, settle down girls. Don't get overexcited."

"Can we devour him now?" Cassandra licked her lips greedily. "I can smell his blood!"

"What?" Daniela stopped her sister. "We haven't even play with him yet! Let's torture him before killing!"

"Girls! Ssh!" Alcina silenced them. "Mother's sorry to disappoint you all but Mother Miranda ordered that he's not to be harmed. He's needed for the ceremony."

"Awww...."

"However there's no saying about tasting his blood."

Cassandra and Daniela cheered. Bela just remained quiet.

"Now let's take him to my room shall we?" Alcina continued forth with her three daughters tagging along.

----

Alcina took a sip of her 'tea' while Bela, Cassandra and Daniela watched their prisoner sleeps on the polished wooden floor.

Soon Ethan made a soft moan sound, stirred a little then slowly opening his eyes.

The three daughters upon seeing him awake from his slumber, grinned with their blood stained lips and teeth.

That horrid sight caused Ethan to jolt and crawled away from them in fear till his back bumped on the wall behind. He began to examine his surroundings in panic.

"W---Where am I?" He asked.

"In my castle." Alcina replied as she puts her cup down.

"H--how?"

"Let's just say Heisenberg wants to take a break from babysitting you." Alcina got up and sauntered towards the frightened young man.

"They said your unique because of your infection." She placed her hands on her waist. "Let's see how special you are." She raised her hands.

"Yes Mother." Cassandra and Daniela seized Ethan by his arms and pulled him up to his feet. He struggled hard against their iron grips as they dragged him towards their towering mother.

"No! No! Let go of me!!"

Cassandra hold him tight while Daniela took out a dagger and slit his left hand. Ethan let out a yell of pain. Alcina then grabbed his hand and began to drink his blood. She took a few sips before releasing him.

"Hmm...such strong taste. Delicious indeed."

Cassandra passed a clean handkerchief to her mother to clean her lips. "I want some too!" She said.

"Let me have it first!" Daniela pouted.

"Now, now. Why can't you both behave like well mannered ladies like your elder sister, Bela? You all can have it later. But first, our guest needs to be stored. Night is coming soon."

Ethan clasped his bleeding hand, the slit wound is healing. Alcina was amazed by his quick regeneration. No wonder he was wanted alive by Mother Miranda.

Ethan slowly backed away from Alcina and her daughters, trembling in fright.

Alcina towering over him as she grinned down. She gestured at him to come towards her. "Don't be afraid. Why not you come over here?"

Ethan clearly knew she was toying with him. At the corner of his eyes, he saw the double doors of her room was wide opened and made a bolt for it. However Alcina was quick also had a long reach, seized Ethan's arm, yanking him back forcefully.

"You're not going anywhere." The daughters laughed hysterically as their mother dragged the struggling young man to another place.

Ethan tried desperately to wrench his arm free as they climbed up the stairs to the upper level until they reached a heavy looking wooden cellar door.

Alcina entered at the same time pulling Ethan inside the cell. She positioned him in front of her even as he scuffles stubbornly to break free of her hold. Bela grabbed a leg iron to shackle one of Ethan's ankle.

With her doing so, Alcina finally let go of him.

"Now stay here and behave." She told Ethan.

Cassandra threw a thin blanket onto the floor. "Keep yourself warm with this. It gets cold in the night." She glees.

Alcina, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela let out a loud chuckle as they left the cell. The cellar door slammed shut and bolted tightly. Ethan could hear his captors's footsteps fading away in a distance. He tried to reach the wooden door but the short chain attached to his ankle restraint prevented him from doing so.

He grabbed the chain and gave a tug, hoping it will come loose yet in vain. It wasn't long before the cellar he's locked in starts to get dark.

The darkness slowly engulfed his cell makes the surrounding more terrifying. Without any lights furthermore in a place where those vampire ladies resided, makes Ethan petrified even more.

Seeing no escape, Ethan took the blanket and sat at a corner. He pushed his knees up to his chest, wrapped the blanket around himself to keep warm. He then placed his forearms on his knees and lay his head down on them.

Ethan pondered why is these happening to him; First the Baker incident, loss of Mia and his sudden kidnapping when the BSAA was escorting him to safety after his safe house got invaded and bought to this isolated place filled with monsters against his will.

Ethan prayed hard that Chris along with his squad come and rescue him. However it's been a week and they never came. Did BSAA abandon him or just waiting for a good opportunity to strike? Ethan hoped for the latter.

"Please... Please... Please come and get me out of here... I don't want to be alone... " Ethan unable to hold back, cries softly.

[nitrateglow]

Time for me to complain about THE IMMORTAL COUNT

You know a biography is bad when it says more about its author than it does its chosen subject. 

Arthur Lenning lets you know he is a cradle Lugosi fan, even having met the man several times as a youngster in the 1940s. sometimes, fannish enthusiasm can enrich a critical study or biography. Other times, it comes off not unlike a Jack Chick tract: obnoxious, ugly, and unable to tolerate any view that so much as nudges its accepted ideology. Unfortunately, Lenning’s book is very much the latter.

Some positives first: the first chapters are very good, going into Lugosi’s childhood, his time on the Hungarian stage, his sad first marriage, his political entanglements, and his struggles to make it in Hollywood, where American xenophobia prevented him from being seen as anything but a heavy. These chapters are rich with biographical information, tend to be more objective, and gave me insight into Lugosi’s views on acting as a profession. In essence, it was actually a biography for the first hundred pages of this five hundred page book.

The moment Lugosi becomes a horror icon with the Dracula play, the book transforms from a biography to a fanboyish catechism. I understand the book’s full title is The Immortal Count: The Films and Life of Bela Lugosi, so I did anticipate some film analysis, likely observing what made Lugosi’s style unique and which films made the biggest impression on the popular culture. I did not expect 50% of the book to be plot summaries combined with the kind of fanboy commentary you can find on IMDB’s user reviews pages. Sometimes, Lenning is insightful, such as when he discusses the fairy tale motifs of White Zombie or explains how a movie is made “cinematic” through editing rather than camera movement when discussing the oft-praised Spanish Dracula. Other times, he indulges in trying to “improve” movies he doesn’t like, either by coming up with fix-it fanfiction rewrites of cheap 1940s filler features that make Lugosi more prominent or informing us that Lugosi should have played this or that role that Boris Karloff or Lon Chaney Jr. made famous because Lugosi is God and should not have been denied anything!

The hatred Lenning appears to bear Boris Karloff floored me because it seemed more based in jealousy for Lugosi’s sake than anything else. Karloff made more money than Lugosi, was more supported by the studio, and had a better career on the whole (even though he too ended up in some dire crap towards the end, but this does not suit Lenning’s narrative, so he never observes that). Any positive anecdote about Karloff is dismissed because Lugosi once referred to Karloff as “a cold fish” and who’s going to distrust Lugosi (even though Lenning himself admits Lugosi was envious of Karloff and often made things up about his own background make himself seem more interesting)?

Every story or remark that painted Karloff as an aloof snob is taken at face value. Lenning even claims Karloff’s politeness was a façade for a prima donna nature, hiding an arrogant man who reveled in being more successful than Lugosi. It’s absolutely childish how he chooses to make Karloff a cartoon villain in this, even mocking Karloff’s looks in comparison to Lugosi’s “attractiveness” and “sexual appeal.”

Now, I don’t believe Karloff was a saint whatsoever, and I’m sure he and Lugosi had an awkward working relationship at best, but the many interviews and anecdotes I have perused about Karloff over the years do not match up with how Lenning paints him here.

(Needless to say, when Lenning praises Karloff’s performance in The Body Snatcher, I was actually floored—was this the same author or had someone else typed that??)

However, I was most annoyed with his treatment of Lillian Lugosi by the end. For much of the book, he seems sympathetic to her: Lugosi was extremely controlling in their relationship, forbidding her from wearing make-up or curling her hair, buying all her clothes, growing easily jealous anytime she so much as went shopping on a whim for fear she was really seeing another man. Lenning, the veritable pope of the One True Church of Lugosi, even claims Lugosi seemed to have more regard for his dogs than he did his wife! Yet at the end of the book, when he cites her calling her second husband the love of her life, he snidely remarks that the guy was a drunk and really no better than Lugosi—because how dare she prefer anyone to Lugosi even after twenty years of putting up with his crap!

It’s hard for me to share Lenning’s disdain for Lugosi Jr either. Lenning paints him as a cold son and money-grubber only interested in Lugosi’s image for lucrative purposes, though to be honest, I rarely blamed Jr. for not being so close to his father. Lugosi was constantly traveling to do stage work, the two of them did not share common interests (more than likely due to Lugosi being such an older father), and Jr. was bullied at school for having Dracula as his dad, making their bond all the more awkward. I’m not saying he was totally in the right and as far as I know he could be some Snidely Whiplash money-grubber, but considering how biased Lenning shows himself to be when dealing with everyone else in this book, I have a hard time trusting anything he says about anybody. Either you’re a true believer or you’re a “cold fish,” I guess.

The most cringeworthy thing about this book is that Lenning makes himself a character in Lugosi’s life drama. He chronicles in detail the times he met the actor at performances of Dracula in the 1940s. This would normally be charming. Lenning instead casts himself as a holy figure, a sign to the saddened Lugosi that there is at least one “Lugosi-ite” out there adoring his films! He almost seems to suggest he is the son Lugosi should have had, unlike the unappreciative Jr. Why, Jr. didn’t even read the first edition of Lenning’s Lugosi biography! How awful!

(No, I’m not even kidding. He does complain about this! After claiming that Jr. attempted to control a conversation Lenning had with Lillian Lugosi, poor, poor Lenning says, “Once again he said that he had not read my book! (Perhaps he will spare himself from reading this update as well.)” I don’t know about Jr., but I wish I had spared myself the effort!)

This self-pitying, dare I say self-righteous, attitude permeates the book, making it unbearable and exhausting to read. Lenning makes snide remarks about those who don’t like Lugosi’s style or who dare to interpret events and anecdotes in ways that make Lugosi seem like the bad guy. He even calls some of his detractors “smart-ass critics.” I get being frustrated when critics are being smart-asses about things you like—I really do. I still haven’t fully forgiven Roger Ebert for his review of John Carpenter’s The Thing*… but when you’re writing a biography, is it really the time to settle personal vendettas? Is it really time to call people names like you’re still in middle school? Why not be the bigger person and show some class instead of making smart-ass comments yourself?

Ugh, Lugosi really needs a new biography. He deserves better than this fanboyish diarrhea. It’s sad, because it’s well-researched… but the author taints every event with his own rose-tinted view of Lugosi and his sheer disdain for everyone else save for fellow zealots.

Anyway, I’m done. Holy crap…

* This is a joke. Kind of.