A Morbid Appointment

[ticktopis_observatorium]

After a mutually interesting conversation between the Morbid Socialite and the Chimeric Professor, both students of the Correspondence agreed to meet outside of class for some follow-up lessons, most probably. They decided to do so in the Professor's home, a somewhat baroque, early georgian two-story house illogically placed on a high place in Watchmaker's Hill, overlooking London from one balcony and the Unterzee from the other, the direction of which was of course issued via Tularemia.

The hour of the appointment was near, and the Professor was setting up the materials they gathered for the ocasion, eager to deepen the acquaintance with one such intriguing gentlemortician.

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A Morbid Appointment

[themorbidsocialite]

The Morbid Socialite had dressed in fine yet practical attire, his gladstone bag containing supplies, tools, and notes and, in his other hand, sat a small cake as a gift of gratitude for inviting him. He pulled his watch from his pocket, more as a force of habit than as anything reliable to tell the time. The soft ticking and the weight was a reassurance.

They sighed and finally knocked on the front door, taking a moment to look over the house's facade. What a beautiful structure! He hummed a gentle tune from the musical they'd watched recently and shook their head of it. Far too catchy for as distasteful as the show had been. A blasphemy against Stoker's masterpiece and an affront to all theatre-

No, Mori, relax. No thinking about terrible art. Not when there's studying to be done! And so, he waited.