Sharnoth: Reading the Script Together

 

"The script's been printed, has it not?"

Those were such casual words.

Those words came to me as we were huddled together, chatting about in the back of a pub in a corner of the Hawborn Area of London. Ah, it's quite a surprise.

Those words that slipped through to me, from my throat and tongue, then my lips to reach my dearest friend's ears. Him. One of Britain's leading authors on ghost stories and the owner of our Lyasium Theather, Bram.

Bram Stoker.

My best friend, my dearest.

"I can't say I'm quite satisfied with the results this time," He said with a shrug of his shoulders. "So much of it has gotten me lost due to piling up in my study."

"You say the same thing even when you finish a script so good, thousands of people are thrilled."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Abram."

I smile.

Lately, I've become conscious of what my facial expressions are like when people look at me. But with you, I don't become aware of it. We simply show ourselves as it is.

As you do.

I, Henry Irving, am smiling.

"You're never satisfied. At least not until the moment you finish the script."

"Of course. But do you, remember? If you have really known me for a long time, you'd know what I'd say."

"...My room is a mess, Henrietta."

"See. I guess you would have figured it out, after all."

I smiled again.

Not as Henry, but as Henrietta Irving as I drink out of a glass of Kadath-style chilled cidar using an Engine Machine.

~ ~ ~ 

It had been a while since he entered the study.

Oftentimes, we'd go into each other rooms--

Usually, this only happen to the point you don't know one another's rooms. But thinking about it, the study room was also like a secret room.

A room used for writing.

A room where you can read many books, go into deep thinking, and write many scripts. In other words, this act was just another "thing" in my mind.

I dare to be blunt.

I dare myself to use the strength of alcohol to open my door.

I quickly spotted a pile of scripts in a corner of a room and picked them up with such an obvious look. Ah, I guess I was being a bit theatrical here.

"Really, it's not that good."

"Read it, and decide it for yourself."

By the time he said that and smiled, I lost my acting ability.

It's just so easy to take off the mask of an actor who's hone their entire heart and soul to their craft, Abram.

"...Oh? This is..."

My gaze fell onto a book.

It was neatly tucked away in a bookshelf.

It looked familiar. This was--

"The tale of the Duke of Wallachia and Duke of Molvadia...it's this one, Abram."

"Yes."

"It's the hometown of the great Lord Dracula."

"Indeed. You remember it all too well."

"I'd never forget it."

This was the book that inspired your second name, the mysterious novel "Dracula". I remember the sight of your eyes radiating as you talked about the life of Prince Vlad recorded there as though it were like yesterday.

Things have gone by so quickly.

It was true that your novel was widely recognized by the world. The same could be said for the first ever stage performance of "Dracula" at the Lyasium Theather that you and I created to fulfill our life-long dream.

"...Okay."

"...Henreitta?"

"No, wait. I thought tonight would be good to do a play to get the basics down."

~ ~ ~

"Why don't you reconsider, Henrietta?"

I look at the script.

This time, the topic was on the adaptation of Sheridan.

"I'm not an actor like you, so I can't just read aloud it to you. Granted, I'd go along with you if you like. But I want you to reconsider this time."

It was quite meaningful of you to write this masterpiece said to be the hometown of one your works "Dracula".

You might not like it though.

I don't hate it as much, however.

"To tell you the truth, I wrote this script without the slightest of intent."

I turn a page.

Ah. So that's how it came to be.

Whoever wrote this idea probably wasn't you. It was likely of someone else's. I get it. No wonder you were so insistent on me refusing.

"The latest sponsor is not from an Engine company, but an aristocrat with a penchant for theater. Which wasn't anything unusual on its own, but he was quite the person who was very particular about the stories within him."

So the main character of the work went from a woman to a man, huh?

That idea itself was interesting.

However, the insensitive who had you, who had already written "Dracula" writing this needs to be criticized. Just thinking about the person who made you write this got me a little upset.

But at the same time--

"They would make a request on the script everytime we'd meet. I've had many backers who'd make request before, but this time, they strangely wanted me to make it changes day to day...I've done it so many times, I've lost track of what I was writing mid-way through."

A man who seeks the blood of others.

A man who seeks the blood of his friend.

The elegance of the original was just barely maintained thanks to your modest resilience, Abram.

"Henry...Henrietta, do you hear me?"

"....Hm? Oh, sorry. I was very engrossed into this. It's at least readable, I'll give you that. It's not without some complications, but it's your script. Okay. I didn't read out the whole thing, but let's give it a shot."

~ ~ ~

You said it three times. I begged four times.

So let's start.

You are Lawrence, a young aristocrat living in a castle in Syria. 

As for me, I am--

"I am Camilo. We've met before, Lawrence. Don't you remember? That memory of the dream from that distant day?"

"...I do remember, Camilo. I could never forget. We certainly have met in that dream, Camilo. But what of in actuality?"

"No. We've only met once in a dream."

Ah.

This is quite the blunder.

It's not bad. To be honest, the script wasn't really good. I can tell you reluctantly wrote it, that the taste of your patron must have spoiled the flavor of your original work.

Nevertheless.

I quite enjoyed reading the script together.

"...It was a jest."

Camilo played Lawrence, who was captivated by Camilo's beauty.

Her voice, which sounded so endearing. The profile of her face.

Ah, yes.

At least just reading this script together at this moment--

It wasn't so bad, I think...

(Fin)