Alucard \\ Adrian F. Ţepeş (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
Yes. Wherever this leads.
[There's no more time to spend words. They have to work but fast, and so that means moving all three to the lab. They have to work in the lab, so Trevor gets scooped up again, this time the action fiercer and more terrified than before, and it's probably worse because it gives Trevor time to register that fear. They're all scared. They're all bugfuck terrified.
Sypha's got all of the bed things in her arms. Alucard has her walk first, so that she can lay it all down once they're in the lab. There's purpose as they walk, grim and terrible and uncertain, because this is an all or nothing chance.
The lab's windows are closed with only a flick of Sypha's hand. The bedding is put down, and Alucard stands in the threshold, still holding onto Trevor for dear life. His eyes are fixated elsewhere though, quietly accounting for where everything is. What they were in the middle of, what they can speed through, what needs more attention. The stone that this process has produced lays on the workspace, a dark, deep sea blue rather than brilliant crimson. It is dull. There is no magic in it, not yet, and that shall be step one.]
I said I would complete the work. It shall be as I said.
[It's as much comfort as he can offer right now, laying Trevor back down as carefully as he can.]
I love you too much not to make it so.
[There's no more time to spend words. They have to work but fast, and so that means moving all three to the lab. They have to work in the lab, so Trevor gets scooped up again, this time the action fiercer and more terrified than before, and it's probably worse because it gives Trevor time to register that fear. They're all scared. They're all bugfuck terrified.
Sypha's got all of the bed things in her arms. Alucard has her walk first, so that she can lay it all down once they're in the lab. There's purpose as they walk, grim and terrible and uncertain, because this is an all or nothing chance.
The lab's windows are closed with only a flick of Sypha's hand. The bedding is put down, and Alucard stands in the threshold, still holding onto Trevor for dear life. His eyes are fixated elsewhere though, quietly accounting for where everything is. What they were in the middle of, what they can speed through, what needs more attention. The stone that this process has produced lays on the workspace, a dark, deep sea blue rather than brilliant crimson. It is dull. There is no magic in it, not yet, and that shall be step one.]
I said I would complete the work. It shall be as I said.
[It's as much comfort as he can offer right now, laying Trevor back down as carefully as he can.]
I love you too much not to make it so.
I love you too, you dramatic fuck. [ Even now, even now, he can't help himself. He has to make fun of the vampire for being too dramatic. Because if he doesn't - he's already admitted how bad things are, but if he does it by missing a chance to mock the vampire, they might believe him. ] I trust you both.
[ For all his determination to stay with them for as long as he can, he sleeps through most of the process. Sometimes there's Alucard holding Sypha's hands to guide them and instructing her, or Sypha leaning over his shoulder as he reads and offering context from stories about the philosopher's stone and he watches half awake and smiles. This was always his favourite thing, seeing the two of them fitting together so perfectly. Sypha all full of the past and Alucard all full of the future, meeting to complete each other's understanding of all possible things.
And he dreams. He dreams of Sara (this was the bed where she lay when Mathias treated her, wasn't it?). Of her holding Justine, fingers stroking through her hair softly, Justine's tiny hands in her chest, tugging at ribs. Of her whispering to the girl that she was safe and loved, holding her tightly until the estate was evacuated. And it should be terrible, but her voice is soft and calming.
It's hard to judge the time here, with the curtain drawn. But the glow behind the curtain is becoming redder and redder when he next wakes.
It's almost time. ]
[ For all his determination to stay with them for as long as he can, he sleeps through most of the process. Sometimes there's Alucard holding Sypha's hands to guide them and instructing her, or Sypha leaning over his shoulder as he reads and offering context from stories about the philosopher's stone and he watches half awake and smiles. This was always his favourite thing, seeing the two of them fitting together so perfectly. Sypha all full of the past and Alucard all full of the future, meeting to complete each other's understanding of all possible things.
And he dreams. He dreams of Sara (this was the bed where she lay when Mathias treated her, wasn't it?). Of her holding Justine, fingers stroking through her hair softly, Justine's tiny hands in her chest, tugging at ribs. Of her whispering to the girl that she was safe and loved, holding her tightly until the estate was evacuated. And it should be terrible, but her voice is soft and calming.
It's hard to judge the time here, with the curtain drawn. But the glow behind the curtain is becoming redder and redder when he next wakes.
It's almost time. ]
[In the end, the theory is this: the stone is science and the stone is magic. The stone is powered by Sypha's intent, which is that when the blood from the one tube passes in, it will be purified, and the tube that it exits from shall clear the rest of the veins. The stone works like transfusion, adding more iron to the system to flush out any vampiric traces in a way that won't be painful. And if there is the tiniest bit of communion wine to goose the system along, well. This is Trevor's blood. They need faith in this mix of science and magic too.
There are times when one of them sits down next to Trevor, leaving the other to work. There's quiet terror threaded in every action, but when either of them are down beside him, it leaves. He cannot have that weighing him down, not if this is truly the last of him. He shall have none of the mourning that will follow in his wake.
And when it is time, or as near to as they can tell, Alucard is the one who is holding all of the equipment in hand. That's practicality, because this is vampire blood. The last thing the three of them need is for her to turn as well. (Perhaps, Alucard thinks in the very back of his head, perhaps that would not be the worst outcome. They would still be together, after all.)
No warnings. No prelude. Just a rub of alcohol at two spots on Trevor's arm, and then the puncture of two needles through skin. Hissed instruction to the skin to not fucking dare an attempt to heal and...it seems to obey.]
There are times when one of them sits down next to Trevor, leaving the other to work. There's quiet terror threaded in every action, but when either of them are down beside him, it leaves. He cannot have that weighing him down, not if this is truly the last of him. He shall have none of the mourning that will follow in his wake.
And when it is time, or as near to as they can tell, Alucard is the one who is holding all of the equipment in hand. That's practicality, because this is vampire blood. The last thing the three of them need is for her to turn as well. (Perhaps, Alucard thinks in the very back of his head, perhaps that would not be the worst outcome. They would still be together, after all.)
No warnings. No prelude. Just a rub of alcohol at two spots on Trevor's arm, and then the puncture of two needles through skin. Hissed instruction to the skin to not fucking dare an attempt to heal and...it seems to obey.]
[ There's a pinch. And- this ought to feel strange, really, his blood taking a different path than it should. But it's not the weirdest thing that's happened to his blood today. As it is it's just two pinches. A strange tiredness, as whatever it is that's been sustaining him is pulled out from him. It still hurts- everything still hurts, but that's not a change.
He's watching the window, watching the soft red glow reflected on the wall from the inside of the curtain. It's fading now. Fading. And Fading. And gone.
And he screams, bringing both hands up to his face and knocking the needles and tubes out of his arm as he does. He doesn't care about them right now. He can't care about them right now, because he can feel his skull changing shape, the bones of it stretching and cracking and reforming, teeth being shoved out of place to account for the presence of two bony growths from the front of it. He's digging his claws into the side of his head to try to control the pain of it and- claws, there are long claws where there were previously short and blunt nails. He can hear his heartbeat in every part of him but it's slow, so very slow.
And he can feel a hand on his, pulling it back from his face to stop him from clawing at it further, and the broken skin knits together instantly but the insides of him are changing now, the slow healing now instantaneous, bones and tissue knitting back into place in some places and withering away in others and-
There's a pained cry. Distant, feminine. Trevor, you're hurting me, and it's all too overwhelming to understand what he's doing, how tight his grip on Sypha's wrist is. ]
He's watching the window, watching the soft red glow reflected on the wall from the inside of the curtain. It's fading now. Fading. And Fading. And gone.
And he screams, bringing both hands up to his face and knocking the needles and tubes out of his arm as he does. He doesn't care about them right now. He can't care about them right now, because he can feel his skull changing shape, the bones of it stretching and cracking and reforming, teeth being shoved out of place to account for the presence of two bony growths from the front of it. He's digging his claws into the side of his head to try to control the pain of it and- claws, there are long claws where there were previously short and blunt nails. He can hear his heartbeat in every part of him but it's slow, so very slow.
And he can feel a hand on his, pulling it back from his face to stop him from clawing at it further, and the broken skin knits together instantly but the insides of him are changing now, the slow healing now instantaneous, bones and tissue knitting back into place in some places and withering away in others and-
There's a pained cry. Distant, feminine. Trevor, you're hurting me, and it's all too overwhelming to understand what he's doing, how tight his grip on Sypha's wrist is. ]
[It's the sound of bones changing shape that makes Alucard blanch. He's heard bones break before, he's caused that, and the sound is always horrible. The worst, he's thought in the past, is when the sharpened bones break through the skin itself, the noise combining with screams of pain and white sharpened bits that come out of the body at angles they never should.
This is worse. This is worse because everything still stays inside the body, and the body is contorting in ways it never, ever should.
Instinct doesn't help him in this moment. He tries to recover the stone and the equipment first, but no, he can't. Trevor's agony is too wild and frenzied to do anything but try and. And. He doesn't fucking know, to keep Trevor from hurting any of them, but most of all, Trevor himself. Gloved hands (because of course he's wearing gloves for this) struggle to hold him down, hold him fast, keep him still. But no. He's clinging to Sypha too hard, and it's all Alucard can do to squeeze Trevor's other hand. Demand attention, demand a fight, distract, disorient, anything, everything, to make this stop for even just a second.
He's never witnessed anything like this. And no wonder his father never ventured this thought upon his mother. He could never bear to see his wife pained, and this....]
This is worse. This is worse because everything still stays inside the body, and the body is contorting in ways it never, ever should.
Instinct doesn't help him in this moment. He tries to recover the stone and the equipment first, but no, he can't. Trevor's agony is too wild and frenzied to do anything but try and. And. He doesn't fucking know, to keep Trevor from hurting any of them, but most of all, Trevor himself. Gloved hands (because of course he's wearing gloves for this) struggle to hold him down, hold him fast, keep him still. But no. He's clinging to Sypha too hard, and it's all Alucard can do to squeeze Trevor's other hand. Demand attention, demand a fight, distract, disorient, anything, everything, to make this stop for even just a second.
He's never witnessed anything like this. And no wonder his father never ventured this thought upon his mother. He could never bear to see his wife pained, and this....]
[ There's no despair. No anger. None of Trevor's comfortable old haunts. There's just twisting, crushing pain in every part of him, something horrible and wild writhing about in his skin and and bones and trying to crush everything in there. He's screaming still, so much that there's blood from his ruined throat in his mouth with every cry, as it heals and tears again with each breath. He can't even feel it when desperation forces Sypha to use ice to pry his hand open, when it closes again on a spike of it that passes clean through skin and muscle and bone. He can barely feel it when all of that reforms.
Sypha's scrambling backwards, encasing his arms and legs and throat in ice and- it's cold. Logically he knows it's cold. But he can barely feel it. It isn't just not being able to feel it in comparison to the pain, he can barely feel it at all. It doesn't seem cold, and there isn't even pressure against his skin as his throes break through it easily.
He's clinging to Alucard's hand now, with crushing force that he could have never achieved before, claws digging in to tendons. He can smell blood from it, he can smell it so, so clearly, more clearly than he's ever sensed anything in his life.
His grip only loosens when the turning starts to come to an end. The pain is still present, all-consuming, but it's a crushing ache instead of the living, snarling thing tearing at him from the inside. He can hear the bones of his skull reforming, his teeth finishing their rearranging. He can hear Sypha yelling again, to stop, to please stop can't he see he's hurting Alucard, and his face is streaked with red from crying from the pain and he would still be screaming but he isn't breathing. His lungs aren't demanding air. And without it there's nothing left in him for sound and so he just lies silent and still twitching from the pain. ]
Sypha's scrambling backwards, encasing his arms and legs and throat in ice and- it's cold. Logically he knows it's cold. But he can barely feel it. It isn't just not being able to feel it in comparison to the pain, he can barely feel it at all. It doesn't seem cold, and there isn't even pressure against his skin as his throes break through it easily.
He's clinging to Alucard's hand now, with crushing force that he could have never achieved before, claws digging in to tendons. He can smell blood from it, he can smell it so, so clearly, more clearly than he's ever sensed anything in his life.
His grip only loosens when the turning starts to come to an end. The pain is still present, all-consuming, but it's a crushing ache instead of the living, snarling thing tearing at him from the inside. He can hear the bones of his skull reforming, his teeth finishing their rearranging. He can hear Sypha yelling again, to stop, to please stop can't he see he's hurting Alucard, and his face is streaked with red from crying from the pain and he would still be screaming but he isn't breathing. His lungs aren't demanding air. And without it there's nothing left in him for sound and so he just lies silent and still twitching from the pain. ]
[He can take the physical pain. It barely registers, after all, he's his father's son. This is a newly formed vampire (this is Trevor) and so even with all that strength, wild and untamed, it only smarts. He'll take it all if it makes any of this easier, he'll let the blood drip down his arm and pool on the floor, he'll take it, take it, take it even as Sypha has to back away.
There is so much horror here that he cannot process an inch of it. Not the agony of Trevor in those screams, not Sypha as her magic fails her in every way that matters, there is only the moment and enduring it all. In looking at red streaming down a face that should only ever be full of living skin, not the horribly ashy stuff that there is there now.
They didn't have time to even see if the stone worked. This is reality now. This is what they have to endure, and there is only pulling Trevor to his chest and waiting for that terrible, terrible twitching to stop. There are no tears on Alucard's face, not now, not yet, just eyes wide, expression impossible to place. Even he doesn't know what he's feeling.
(No. He knows. It's the terrible feeling of anger that Sypha cannot hold Trevor from the other side, because of blood.)]
There is so much horror here that he cannot process an inch of it. Not the agony of Trevor in those screams, not Sypha as her magic fails her in every way that matters, there is only the moment and enduring it all. In looking at red streaming down a face that should only ever be full of living skin, not the horribly ashy stuff that there is there now.
They didn't have time to even see if the stone worked. This is reality now. This is what they have to endure, and there is only pulling Trevor to his chest and waiting for that terrible, terrible twitching to stop. There are no tears on Alucard's face, not now, not yet, just eyes wide, expression impossible to place. Even he doesn't know what he's feeling.
(No. He knows. It's the terrible feeling of anger that Sypha cannot hold Trevor from the other side, because of blood.)]
[ He can see individual strands of Alucard's hair.
That's his first coherent thought. He never could before. He could feel them, but to his eyes it was all one big golden, flowing, soft mass. His eyes are sharper, so much sharper, and when he blinks (does he need to?) there's none of the roughness of a scarred left eye against the inside of the eyelid.
He's still, now, save for his fingertips still twitching up and down, playing at trying to form fists but failing. ]
I'm sorry.
[ He manages to speak eventually, drawing in one gasping breath to speak. He can't feel anything, really, anything at all save for the residual pain, but the knowledge that this blood must have got here somewhere, that that horrible bruise on Sypha's wrist must have come from something. Even if the guilt's not hit him yet, he knows he's hurt them both. ]
That's his first coherent thought. He never could before. He could feel them, but to his eyes it was all one big golden, flowing, soft mass. His eyes are sharper, so much sharper, and when he blinks (does he need to?) there's none of the roughness of a scarred left eye against the inside of the eyelid.
He's still, now, save for his fingertips still twitching up and down, playing at trying to form fists but failing. ]
I'm sorry.
[ He manages to speak eventually, drawing in one gasping breath to speak. He can't feel anything, really, anything at all save for the residual pain, but the knowledge that this blood must have got here somewhere, that that horrible bruise on Sypha's wrist must have come from something. Even if the guilt's not hit him yet, he knows he's hurt them both. ]
[Alucard holds him there. He doesn't know what else he can do. He doesn't think there is anything else he can do or say or even think to cut the horrible tension of the ever-present moment. Trevor is so cold in his arms, colder than himself, and it is terrible thought to have. That weight is warm and pleasant and sometimes a little crushing, but that was never a problem. Usually it turned into something more playful. Or just an evening of insults.
There's none of that now. There's the sound of Sypha standing up and bringing over a clean cloth, and for that at least Alucard can do something. Wipe at the blood on Trevor's face, because Sypha needs to hold him too. It is terribly cruel to deny her that.]
Don't.
[Don't apologize for things that can't be controlled. Don't say a word. Just. Just don't. This already a horrible moment. Anything, anything at all, will make it worse.]
There's none of that now. There's the sound of Sypha standing up and bringing over a clean cloth, and for that at least Alucard can do something. Wipe at the blood on Trevor's face, because Sypha needs to hold him too. It is terribly cruel to deny her that.]
Don't.
[Don't apologize for things that can't be controlled. Don't say a word. Just. Just don't. This already a horrible moment. Anything, anything at all, will make it worse.]
[ The cloth confuses him for a moment, and then it's- it would be almost humiliating if he had it left in him to care, because fuck off and stop making a big deal of him crying it fucking hurt okay he's allowed to. And then it comes away from his face red, and he understands and what's left of his stomach twists.
He wants to talk. He doesn't have anything to say but apologies and goodbyes, but the silence is terrible. But he doesn't. Sypha moves in to hold him and he raises his arms unsteadily and wraps them around both of them.
Warm. They're both so warm. It's nothing new, from Sypha, but Alucard has always been cool to the touch. And it's- it's strange. Alien. Like he's holding two different people. One so hot as to seem deathly feverish, one just warm in a way that neither of them have ever been 'just warm' (that had always been him).
He needs to go to the whip. He needs to finish this, to return to Sara. To serve her with all of the other sons of Leon Belmont who fell in this way.
But he's selfish. He's selfish and he's afraid and he wants just a little longer with the two people who saved him and brought him this far. So he just holds on to both of them, and he doesn't sob. He can't. There'll be blood again, and then Sypha will have to step away and that can't happen right now. ]
He wants to talk. He doesn't have anything to say but apologies and goodbyes, but the silence is terrible. But he doesn't. Sypha moves in to hold him and he raises his arms unsteadily and wraps them around both of them.
Warm. They're both so warm. It's nothing new, from Sypha, but Alucard has always been cool to the touch. And it's- it's strange. Alien. Like he's holding two different people. One so hot as to seem deathly feverish, one just warm in a way that neither of them have ever been 'just warm' (that had always been him).
He needs to go to the whip. He needs to finish this, to return to Sara. To serve her with all of the other sons of Leon Belmont who fell in this way.
But he's selfish. He's selfish and he's afraid and he wants just a little longer with the two people who saved him and brought him this far. So he just holds on to both of them, and he doesn't sob. He can't. There'll be blood again, and then Sypha will have to step away and that can't happen right now. ]
[There's nothing else said for a long while. There are only arms that are much too cold, and the dread feeling of time slipping by. But to break the silence, to say anything at all, that is to acknowledge the horrible haunting truth of it all. None of them can manage that. Not now.
Somewhere in all of it, Alucard knows that there's tears streaming down his face. He buries them and the rest of his face into the top of Trevor's head and he does not move from that spot. A barely strangled sob escapes from time to time, and the worst part in all of it is that he loathes himself for sitting here and weeping. They might have time yet to try the experiment. To see if any of it will work. But they are all trapped here by the knowledge that loss will dawn over them in just a few more hours, and the terrible farewells are more important than forcing more pain into a situation that overflows with it.
Alucard's fingers dig into Trevor's too cold flesh as the moon rises higher and higher in the sky. Sypha's found some words, loving ones, ones said with devestation but no cracks to her voice. If not now, then soon. Terribly soon.
They will pack everything up in the morning. Send it through the mirror. Sypha will go home ahead, he will follow riding the same arcs that brought them to this place. For a few terrible hours, Sypha will be alone in that castle, and Alucard cannot help but hate himself for forcing that upon her.
He'll be home soon enough. They'll both collapse from grief and exhaustion, and the castle will be all the emptier for there being only two people in it. They'll abandon their bed, for it will be too large for only two people. Find a new wing of the castle not scarred by memory, and rebuild yet again.]
Somewhere in all of it, Alucard knows that there's tears streaming down his face. He buries them and the rest of his face into the top of Trevor's head and he does not move from that spot. A barely strangled sob escapes from time to time, and the worst part in all of it is that he loathes himself for sitting here and weeping. They might have time yet to try the experiment. To see if any of it will work. But they are all trapped here by the knowledge that loss will dawn over them in just a few more hours, and the terrible farewells are more important than forcing more pain into a situation that overflows with it.
Alucard's fingers dig into Trevor's too cold flesh as the moon rises higher and higher in the sky. Sypha's found some words, loving ones, ones said with devestation but no cracks to her voice. If not now, then soon. Terribly soon.
They will pack everything up in the morning. Send it through the mirror. Sypha will go home ahead, he will follow riding the same arcs that brought them to this place. For a few terrible hours, Sypha will be alone in that castle, and Alucard cannot help but hate himself for forcing that upon her.
He'll be home soon enough. They'll both collapse from grief and exhaustion, and the castle will be all the emptier for there being only two people in it. They'll abandon their bed, for it will be too large for only two people. Find a new wing of the castle not scarred by memory, and rebuild yet again.]
[ Trevor's idea of 'bed' has been the ground or big enough tree for most of his life. Sometimes the carcass of a night creature. Sometimes piles of dried leaves. A little too often, a gutter or the floor of a tavern.
And so he finds it just about impossible to understand Alucard's complaints about a straw mattress being too uncomfortable. Until he'd come to the castle, that represented the peak of luxury to him. It was what he had slept on at home and, as Alucard had proven to enjoy reminding him, his family were nobility. And certainly it wasn't as soft as the feather mattress that their shared bed used, certainly there was the odd sharp poke from a piece of straw that refused to lie properly with the others, but it was soft and pleasant enough to sleep on and firm enough that one didn't just feel at risk of disappearing into it at all times the way one did with feathers. ]
Sypha told me a story like this.
[ And maybe he's just a little sore about the fact that Alucard spent the night reading rather than lying next to him because the inn's mattress didn't meet his standards. And that's why he's still going on about this almost a full day later, now they're almost back at the castle. ]
About how a king and queen had to determine their daughter from an impostor. And you know what they did?
[ He probably knows what they did. It's certainly mattress-related, because that's all Trevor has been getting at Alucard about for the last half hour and because the grin on his face means this cannot be about anything other than 'continuing to get at Alucard'. ]
And so he finds it just about impossible to understand Alucard's complaints about a straw mattress being too uncomfortable. Until he'd come to the castle, that represented the peak of luxury to him. It was what he had slept on at home and, as Alucard had proven to enjoy reminding him, his family were nobility. And certainly it wasn't as soft as the feather mattress that their shared bed used, certainly there was the odd sharp poke from a piece of straw that refused to lie properly with the others, but it was soft and pleasant enough to sleep on and firm enough that one didn't just feel at risk of disappearing into it at all times the way one did with feathers. ]
Sypha told me a story like this.
[ And maybe he's just a little sore about the fact that Alucard spent the night reading rather than lying next to him because the inn's mattress didn't meet his standards. And that's why he's still going on about this almost a full day later, now they're almost back at the castle. ]
About how a king and queen had to determine their daughter from an impostor. And you know what they did?
[ He probably knows what they did. It's certainly mattress-related, because that's all Trevor has been getting at Alucard about for the last half hour and because the grin on his face means this cannot be about anything other than 'continuing to get at Alucard'. ]
Edited 2018-12-30 23:49 (UTC)
Oh, is this about putting some small rock under the bed, because a young woman raised with true luxury would be able to pick it out?
[Alucard knows full well he has been spoiled for comfort in his life. Not for wealth, although that is a massive factor in it, but for his father's knowledge and understanding of the world. No other child grew up with electric lights and heated floors. Few would grow up with telescopes to look at the sky with such refined eyes. Not even boyars, it seems, get to have plush bedding. It shows in all ways. Even his coffin under Gresit was plush.
So maybe he's hypersensitive about where they sleep. Most nights, it isn't a problem, he barely sleeps anyway. But there are some times when he simply cannot deal with straw poking through threadworn mattress, just like last night. It happens, and he deserves all the shit for it.]
You can drop it now, you know, you've done enough vampire shaming for the day.
[Alucard knows full well he has been spoiled for comfort in his life. Not for wealth, although that is a massive factor in it, but for his father's knowledge and understanding of the world. No other child grew up with electric lights and heated floors. Few would grow up with telescopes to look at the sky with such refined eyes. Not even boyars, it seems, get to have plush bedding. It shows in all ways. Even his coffin under Gresit was plush.
So maybe he's hypersensitive about where they sleep. Most nights, it isn't a problem, he barely sleeps anyway. But there are some times when he simply cannot deal with straw poking through threadworn mattress, just like last night. It happens, and he deserves all the shit for it.]
You can drop it now, you know, you've done enough vampire shaming for the day.
Oh, this isn't vampire shaming.
[ Which he can never, by the way, do enough of. He's a Belmont. Vampire shaming is what he does. He puts an arm over Alucard's shoulder, pulling him close enough that if that grin was half as loud as it looked, it'd be deafening him. ]
This is spoiled little princeling shaming. I'll have to let Sypha know that you're far too soft and delicate to share a bed with us common folk.
[ Which he can never, by the way, do enough of. He's a Belmont. Vampire shaming is what he does. He puts an arm over Alucard's shoulder, pulling him close enough that if that grin was half as loud as it looked, it'd be deafening him. ]
This is spoiled little princeling shaming. I'll have to let Sypha know that you're far too soft and delicate to share a bed with us common folk.
[That is met with a very sharp elbow to Trevor's side, because!!! This is stupid!!! And there's a scowl too because this is too much and it is so terribly, terribly unfair.]
Shut up, boyar. You don't get to make any claim about being commonfolk and you know it.
Shut up, boyar. You don't get to make any claim about being commonfolk and you know it.
Last I checked, what remains of the Belmont lands were yours, not mine. I've not had claim to that title in more than three years.
[ He doesn't return the elbow, if only because he doesn't have a convenient elbow to do so with. Instead he just pulls Alucard closer, pressing his head against his. ]
Our dearest little princeling.
[ He doesn't return the elbow, if only because he doesn't have a convenient elbow to do so with. Instead he just pulls Alucard closer, pressing his head against his. ]
Our dearest little princeling.
Last I checked, I still didn't take your surname.
[The closeness is nice though. Easy to settle against, even if the next comment really deserves a low, unhappy hiss. Alucard knows the entire point is to get a reaction, and damn himself for giving in so damned easily.]
You know, it is beyond infuriating to not have a word that rankles you back.
[The closeness is nice though. Easy to settle against, even if the next comment really deserves a low, unhappy hiss. Alucard knows the entire point is to get a reaction, and damn himself for giving in so damned easily.]
You know, it is beyond infuriating to not have a word that rankles you back.
I don't recall offering that.
[ Except for, you know, all the times that he has outright said that Alucard is a Belmont in all but name. That doesn't count because they both know what he's referring to. ]
Would you like to try some? I'll do mu best to sound terribly offended.
[ Except for, you know, all the times that he has outright said that Alucard is a Belmont in all but name. That doesn't count because they both know what he's referring to. ]
Would you like to try some? I'll do mu best to sound terribly offended.
Then I cannot properly claim these lands, now can I?
[He's warm enough, playing it off as a joke because it's still a sensitive enough subject for Trevor.]
No, no point. Half the joy is finding something that lands in the moment, when you aren't expecting it.
[He's warm enough, playing it off as a joke because it's still a sensitive enough subject for Trevor.]
No, no point. Half the joy is finding something that lands in the moment, when you aren't expecting it.
I think having your house on top of them counts as claiming them. Unless you and your father have just been trespassing your entire lives.
Maybe that's why we've been fighting vampires all this time. Enforcing land ownership laws.
Maybe that's why we've been fighting vampires all this time. Enforcing land ownership laws.
Hm. I would venture to say the castle probably did land on a few owned lands when I was growing up.
[Speaking of, it seems. Alucard's eyes catch a view of one of the spires towering over the treeline, and there's a visible perk at that. They're nearly home, and thank God for it.]
And before. There's a lot of places to be in four centuries.
[Speaking of, it seems. Alucard's eyes catch a view of one of the spires towering over the treeline, and there's a visible perk at that. They're nearly home, and thank God for it.]
And before. There's a lot of places to be in four centuries.
[ He gives an exaggerated 'tut tut tut', shaking his had in mock-disapproval. ]
Claiming lands all across Europe. So well-traveled, princeling, and yet you can't bear a normal bed.
Claiming lands all across Europe. So well-traveled, princeling, and yet you can't bear a normal bed.
A normal bed doesn't let me have three in it, now does it?
[He smirks up at Trevor, because that has to at least get some kind of reaction.]
[He smirks up at Trevor, because that has to at least get some kind of reaction.]
Doesn't when one of them is too terribly offended by straw to use it.
[ And then, grinning too widely to even feign being offended. ]
Or do you need both of us there to lower yourself to using the furniture, and just the one isn't good enough?
[ And then, grinning too widely to even feign being offended. ]
Or do you need both of us there to lower yourself to using the furniture, and just the one isn't good enough?
Oh, is that what this is really about?
[Oh, Trevor. That's actually terribly sweet. He lets it go though, at least for now.]
All I need is to not be prodded in the backside while I'm trying to rest.
[Wait that didn't come out right.]
[Oh, Trevor. That's actually terribly sweet. He lets it go though, at least for now.]
All I need is to not be prodded in the backside while I'm trying to rest.
[Wait that didn't come out right.]
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