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
A few hours for the both of you to get some fucking rest.
[ They may have to argue about this. They probably will, though Trevor's not sure how much arguing he has left in him. He is, at least, fully intending to take his own advice here and just pass out from exhaustion the moment he's content that the other two are ready to take care of themselves. ]
Whatever's happening here, it's- we apparently have time. Worst comes to worst, I have fangs for another three hours tonight.
[ He's being very dismissive of it, considering how fucking awful it is for all of them. But he can lock himself up on the other side of the estate where they don't have to see him like that. ]
[ They may have to argue about this. They probably will, though Trevor's not sure how much arguing he has left in him. He is, at least, fully intending to take his own advice here and just pass out from exhaustion the moment he's content that the other two are ready to take care of themselves. ]
Whatever's happening here, it's- we apparently have time. Worst comes to worst, I have fangs for another three hours tonight.
[ He's being very dismissive of it, considering how fucking awful it is for all of them. But he can lock himself up on the other side of the estate where they don't have to see him like that. ]
[ pls do not break the belmont butt ]
Well then.
[ One hand leaves the back of Alucard's head to hang at Trevor's side. The other slides down his neck, moving slowly until it settles at his back. ]
Shall I?
Well then.
[ One hand leaves the back of Alucard's head to hang at Trevor's side. The other slides down his neck, moving slowly until it settles at his back. ]
Shall I?
[He won't. He has to let go of it for any of this to work. Easier to wrap both arms around Trevor's neck and let them hang there for now.]
Please.
Please.
You don't get to remove yourself from that equation.
[That's all the fight Alucard has in him right now. If they're resting, so is he, because he doesn't want to lose a minute of work or just seeing Trevor awake and so very alive if it can be helped. And Trevor is right, they need to sleep. All of them. Trevor for his body to recover, Sypha to rest emotionally, Alucard to have any brain power at all.
The bones haven't been boiling anywhere long enough for the soup broth to taste good, but rest is needed, and so there's no time. He uses the spoon to fish the bones out, and they go aside on a plate. Walks and grabs another plate of the veggies, and those go in the pot.]
We'll figure everything out.
[He says it softly. More to himself than to anyone else.]
[That's all the fight Alucard has in him right now. If they're resting, so is he, because he doesn't want to lose a minute of work or just seeing Trevor awake and so very alive if it can be helped. And Trevor is right, they need to sleep. All of them. Trevor for his body to recover, Sypha to rest emotionally, Alucard to have any brain power at all.
The bones haven't been boiling anywhere long enough for the soup broth to taste good, but rest is needed, and so there's no time. He uses the spoon to fish the bones out, and they go aside on a plate. Walks and grabs another plate of the veggies, and those go in the pot.]
We'll figure everything out.
[He says it softly. More to himself than to anyone else.]
Trust me, I havn't. I'm going to sleep like- [ ...there's no good way to joke about how difficult it'll be to wake him up right now, is there? And 'sleep like the dead' is a little too on the nose. As are any jokes about sleeping like Alucard does, which is sad, because making fun of Alucard's ridiculous 'sometimes half an hour, sometimes three full days' sleep schedule is usually good fun. For him. ] -I'm going to sleep like a rock. A very fucking tired rock.
[ He's pulled Sypha against him while they wait for the soup to cook. Her head is against his ribs and her hand over his heart and he knows that she's feeling for it beating, to be certain. She's quiet, that way that she's always quiet when she's lonely.
And it's tragic and unfair that she has to feel lonely in a room with the both of them. ]
[ He's pulled Sypha against him while they wait for the soup to cook. Her head is against his ribs and her hand over his heart and he knows that she's feeling for it beating, to be certain. She's quiet, that way that she's always quiet when she's lonely.
And it's tragic and unfair that she has to feel lonely in a room with the both of them. ]
So long as we have an understanding.
[And there's quiet as the soup simmers, and every so often Alucard will stir it. Slosh things about. Check for the tenderness of the carrots and parsnips and turnips in there, and once satisfied, he adds the little scraps of meat that remain. It all heats up, and that's just enough time for him to get three bowls and the ladle.
So much of this is muscle memory now. How much each of them likes in their bowl, and there's no bread to put in Trevor's or Sypha's because they haven't been in the estate for a week. A terrible fucking meal for a terrible fucking day. But he brings it over to where the other two have staked out for the time being all the same. Puts it down. Forces the bowls into both of their hands nearly, because at the very least they will have some warmth.]
[And there's quiet as the soup simmers, and every so often Alucard will stir it. Slosh things about. Check for the tenderness of the carrots and parsnips and turnips in there, and once satisfied, he adds the little scraps of meat that remain. It all heats up, and that's just enough time for him to get three bowls and the ladle.
So much of this is muscle memory now. How much each of them likes in their bowl, and there's no bread to put in Trevor's or Sypha's because they haven't been in the estate for a week. A terrible fucking meal for a terrible fucking day. But he brings it over to where the other two have staked out for the time being all the same. Puts it down. Forces the bowls into both of their hands nearly, because at the very least they will have some warmth.]
[ Sypha untangles herself from him to take her bowl, poking at vegetables with a spoon halfheartedly but eventually just eating. She's practical, where it counts. She's more than used to surviving through horror and tragedy.
Trevor tries to to likewise. He really does try. The vegetables look the most hopeful, which is to say the most likely solid thing that he might be able to chew into a fine enough paste to keep down.
And if everything else weren't so much more dramatic, this in itself would be an alarming sight. Trevor eats like someone who's lived his entire life not knowing where the next meal is going to come from. Eats himself sick if something's spooked him back into that way of thinking. Eats significantly more when ill, because he's been starved while sick, he knows just what that does to a body. Right now, he's at one and a half slices of carrot, and that's proving to be about all the solid food his stomach is capable of. He sips at the broth until that becomes too much before switching back to his cup of water. ]
Thank you. For all of this.
[ He knows that he's loved. He knows that they'll both do whatever it takes to protect him. But knowing it and seeing it are very different things, and Alucard's already forbidden him from apologizing for being a burden, and so thanking them is the next best thing. ]
Trevor tries to to likewise. He really does try. The vegetables look the most hopeful, which is to say the most likely solid thing that he might be able to chew into a fine enough paste to keep down.
And if everything else weren't so much more dramatic, this in itself would be an alarming sight. Trevor eats like someone who's lived his entire life not knowing where the next meal is going to come from. Eats himself sick if something's spooked him back into that way of thinking. Eats significantly more when ill, because he's been starved while sick, he knows just what that does to a body. Right now, he's at one and a half slices of carrot, and that's proving to be about all the solid food his stomach is capable of. He sips at the broth until that becomes too much before switching back to his cup of water. ]
Thank you. For all of this.
[ He knows that he's loved. He knows that they'll both do whatever it takes to protect him. But knowing it and seeing it are very different things, and Alucard's already forbidden him from apologizing for being a burden, and so thanking them is the next best thing. ]
[All Alucard does is chug the broth in one go, and then deal with the solid bits. It is the least elegant that he has ever, ever eaten and he's including any and all times he has consumed blood ever. (He...probably should take care of that. He doesn't have any stomach for it right now.) Everything is miserable. Everything has the faintest glimmer of hope.
He watches the other two so quietly. So worriedly. With such terrified adoration for the moment, because they may never have this moment with each other again. He has always treated each little thing with reverence. Calling it precious because it is. He means that sentiment now more than ever, because this can all end. It will all end if they find no recourse for removing this thing from Trevor.
(In the very far back of Alucard's mind, he knows that when he returns, he will have to take some of his father's power. Some of that fear will be wielded. Because even if the three of them survive this, they likely cannot face another horror like this yet again. They have been ground down time and again to be built back up and...and they've managed. Every time they have been more frayed at the end. A fourth demand will make them all unravel.)
He's put his own bowl down (it is empty) when he finaly clocks how little Trevor is eating. How very wrong that is for a million reasons. But....but right now, he can't force anything else on Trevor. Just his hand resting on the nearest part of Trevor, and a struggle to find words.]
Thank us at the end.
[Whatever the end is. For now, this is the middle. For now, there is a tired kiss to Trevor's forehead, betraying exhaustion and fear. For now there is the three of them, spent and exhausted and unsure, clinging to each other and so very little else.]
We love you.
He watches the other two so quietly. So worriedly. With such terrified adoration for the moment, because they may never have this moment with each other again. He has always treated each little thing with reverence. Calling it precious because it is. He means that sentiment now more than ever, because this can all end. It will all end if they find no recourse for removing this thing from Trevor.
(In the very far back of Alucard's mind, he knows that when he returns, he will have to take some of his father's power. Some of that fear will be wielded. Because even if the three of them survive this, they likely cannot face another horror like this yet again. They have been ground down time and again to be built back up and...and they've managed. Every time they have been more frayed at the end. A fourth demand will make them all unravel.)
He's put his own bowl down (it is empty) when he finaly clocks how little Trevor is eating. How very wrong that is for a million reasons. But....but right now, he can't force anything else on Trevor. Just his hand resting on the nearest part of Trevor, and a struggle to find words.]
Thank us at the end.
[Whatever the end is. For now, this is the middle. For now, there is a tired kiss to Trevor's forehead, betraying exhaustion and fear. For now there is the three of them, spent and exhausted and unsure, clinging to each other and so very little else.]
We love you.
[The theory Alucard held in private has been proven distressingly true. At the same time as the actual attack happened, the turning begins anew. Walter's blood (his father's blood, his blood) enters Trevor's system, because the timeloop cannot prevent all of this, and the horror unfolds yet again.
It is not easier on the second day. If anything, it is worse, because they all know how it plays out. They know that to attend to every scream of agony is to deny precious moments of trying to make this stone work, and it is needed more than ever. They keep Trevor in the lab because they have to have him there to test the damn stone and that may actualy be the worst part of it all. They have to listen to all of this because they have to monitor the turning. Pinpoint the key moments.
(Alucard takes goddamn blood samples, and he knows, he knows it's horrible but they need the information. He takes hurried notes while looking at the stuff under a microscope. He has theories now. Better ones. But he still flinches when there's a new and terrible noise.)
By the third day, they at least know what to expect in terms of timing and in terms of volume. It is no comfort. It is only terrible, terrible knowledge that lets them all brace. And it is in that moment that Alucard thinks he's come to understand something of this terrible turning, because he's got both eyes pressed into the microscope viewer, delirious and delighted because this might be the key to all of it and---
--and there is a new noise he hasn't heard before, and he looks up in terror of the new.]
It is not easier on the second day. If anything, it is worse, because they all know how it plays out. They know that to attend to every scream of agony is to deny precious moments of trying to make this stone work, and it is needed more than ever. They keep Trevor in the lab because they have to have him there to test the damn stone and that may actualy be the worst part of it all. They have to listen to all of this because they have to monitor the turning. Pinpoint the key moments.
(Alucard takes goddamn blood samples, and he knows, he knows it's horrible but they need the information. He takes hurried notes while looking at the stuff under a microscope. He has theories now. Better ones. But he still flinches when there's a new and terrible noise.)
By the third day, they at least know what to expect in terms of timing and in terms of volume. It is no comfort. It is only terrible, terrible knowledge that lets them all brace. And it is in that moment that Alucard thinks he's come to understand something of this terrible turning, because he's got both eyes pressed into the microscope viewer, delirious and delighted because this might be the key to all of it and---
--and there is a new noise he hasn't heard before, and he looks up in terror of the new.]
[ Slowly and carefully, he leans down to put his arms behind Alucard's knees, cradling him in his arms and pulling him tight against his chest. He's positionned just perfectly for Trevor to kiss the top of his head. And so he does that. Multiple times, as he makes his way to the bedroom. ]
It wouldn't have done for my dear, delicate princeling to walk. No doubt the floors are too terribly hard for you.
It wouldn't have done for my dear, delicate princeling to walk. No doubt the floors are too terribly hard for you.
I have had quarrel with them in the past, that much is terribly true.
[If Trevor is going to have him like this (and it is as silly as it is dramatic which he is always criticized for!) then what else can he do but lean into all of it? Including Trevor.
There's one hand still on Trevor's chest though, because that's how it ought to be when you're carried like this. Hand on the chest, and lips kissing whatever can be reached. In this case, it's collar bones, and sure, maybe his other hand is moving the fabric over just a little bit to help. So what?]
[If Trevor is going to have him like this (and it is as silly as it is dramatic which he is always criticized for!) then what else can he do but lean into all of it? Including Trevor.
There's one hand still on Trevor's chest though, because that's how it ought to be when you're carried like this. Hand on the chest, and lips kissing whatever can be reached. In this case, it's collar bones, and sure, maybe his other hand is moving the fabric over just a little bit to help. So what?]
Edited 2019-01-01 02:17 (UTC)
[ There's a pattern to it, now. Trevor likes patterns. He likes things that he can measure and watch for and have it all make sense to him. Not magic, or creatures too small to see that somehow carry illness (magic), or poisons in the blood (magic). Sunset is about three and a half hours before midnight, and he turns. For half an hour, the agony is too great to think. For three hours, he has fangs. At midnight, he is human. Between dawn and somewhere around noon, he is able to walk outside in the sunlight. At noon, the sun becomes too bright and staying out in it bursts the tiny blood vessels (Alucard calls them caterpillars, or something like that) under his skin and leaves him covered in little marks like red spiderwebs. Between noon and sunset, he is in the late stages of turning. And then three and a half hours before midnight, he turns again.
Sypha is uncomfortably close for this turning. His jaw is wedged open, molars biting down on a thick piece of wood, so that she can see the fangs as she observes the changes to his skull as best she can. Something something, magic bullshit, something something, spell to help with the worst of the pain by either preventing the changing of the bone or making it go more smoothly. She pokes at the fangs with a measuring ruler, taking note of how far they push out, where the teeth that they displaced are forced to.
He hasn't eaten more than about a mouthful at each meal since before the battle. He physically can't. The process of turning twists the parts of himself that are for eating into something different, built for an entirely different sort of sustenance. The process of turning back undoes all of that, but leaves the insides of him ruined, withered away and incapable of more sipping at water and broth and warm milk with honey stirred into it (Alucard has taken to giving him that, when he can't stomach anything else, and he suspects that it's as much for Alucard's comfort as it is for his own). And it's- fine. He'll need more sooner or later, Sypha's already commented once on how his skin seems looser on him in places as his body starts to consume muscle to fuel the constant turning and turning back. But- with any luck, there won't be a later. His body has always been forced to consume itself to survive every winter until coming to the castle, he has a fairly strong idea of how far this can go and still be reversible with a few weeks of rest and decent meals.
Only now, now there's something else inside of him. He almost wants to call it survival but it isn't. He knows survival. He's good at survival. This, all of this, is survival and this thing is darker. It's- he wants to call it selfishness, but it's crueler. It's survival through terrible means, the drive to destroy something else to ensure that he continues. And it's powerful, so powerful, strong as the compulsion on this room's door had been. And Sypha's hand is right there, the blood so close to the skin from that bruise he'd left her with two nights back. And he can't warn her, because his mouth is wedged open and the desperate shouting just sounds like more of his screams from the turning process, earning only a pained smile and attempt at comfort.
The first sound is Trevor biting clean through the wood holding his mouth open. The second is Sypha yelling in alarm as he pounces her, all teeth and claws and very little Trevor at all. ]
Sypha is uncomfortably close for this turning. His jaw is wedged open, molars biting down on a thick piece of wood, so that she can see the fangs as she observes the changes to his skull as best she can. Something something, magic bullshit, something something, spell to help with the worst of the pain by either preventing the changing of the bone or making it go more smoothly. She pokes at the fangs with a measuring ruler, taking note of how far they push out, where the teeth that they displaced are forced to.
He hasn't eaten more than about a mouthful at each meal since before the battle. He physically can't. The process of turning twists the parts of himself that are for eating into something different, built for an entirely different sort of sustenance. The process of turning back undoes all of that, but leaves the insides of him ruined, withered away and incapable of more sipping at water and broth and warm milk with honey stirred into it (Alucard has taken to giving him that, when he can't stomach anything else, and he suspects that it's as much for Alucard's comfort as it is for his own). And it's- fine. He'll need more sooner or later, Sypha's already commented once on how his skin seems looser on him in places as his body starts to consume muscle to fuel the constant turning and turning back. But- with any luck, there won't be a later. His body has always been forced to consume itself to survive every winter until coming to the castle, he has a fairly strong idea of how far this can go and still be reversible with a few weeks of rest and decent meals.
Only now, now there's something else inside of him. He almost wants to call it survival but it isn't. He knows survival. He's good at survival. This, all of this, is survival and this thing is darker. It's- he wants to call it selfishness, but it's crueler. It's survival through terrible means, the drive to destroy something else to ensure that he continues. And it's powerful, so powerful, strong as the compulsion on this room's door had been. And Sypha's hand is right there, the blood so close to the skin from that bruise he'd left her with two nights back. And he can't warn her, because his mouth is wedged open and the desperate shouting just sounds like more of his screams from the turning process, earning only a pained smile and attempt at comfort.
The first sound is Trevor biting clean through the wood holding his mouth open. The second is Sypha yelling in alarm as he pounces her, all teeth and claws and very little Trevor at all. ]
[There is about five seconds where Alucard has a moment to really take in what he's seeing. The lab, during the actual turning process at sundown, has always been a source of issue because too much might break if something goes so very wrong. Never mind the fact it can repair itself at midnight, bodies take longer and that is where the problem is. Stray glass in the lab is fundamentally unsafe.
The wood has split, leaving fragments and splinters everywhere. Sypha is drawing up all the ice inside of her to put up a defensive wall (because even like this, even like this she cannot use fire). Three days of turning with no blood for it has taken it's toll, and the only word that can be used to describe Trevor is well and truly feral. Vampire in the worst way, in the way that his family used that fucking horrible combination to bring clarity of mind.
They're going to need that. But first they have to head this horrible thing off at the pass, and so Alucard is forced to do two things he never enjoys: using every inch of his own vampiric abilities and doing so in a room with too much glass and too many humans in it.
He dives on top of Sypha in an instant, one leg stuck up so that when Trevor lands, it's going to be in his stomach. Enough to throw him off, enough to send him flying. The goal, the goal right now is to just get Trevor out of the lab. Away from Sypha. Away from things that can break and burn and bruise, and then he'll shove his own wrist in Trevor's stupid mouth to see if that will quell any of the horrible thirst within.
(Three days. They have endured it for three days.)
(They are three.)
(Perhaps that is important.)]
The wood has split, leaving fragments and splinters everywhere. Sypha is drawing up all the ice inside of her to put up a defensive wall (because even like this, even like this she cannot use fire). Three days of turning with no blood for it has taken it's toll, and the only word that can be used to describe Trevor is well and truly feral. Vampire in the worst way, in the way that his family used that fucking horrible combination to bring clarity of mind.
They're going to need that. But first they have to head this horrible thing off at the pass, and so Alucard is forced to do two things he never enjoys: using every inch of his own vampiric abilities and doing so in a room with too much glass and too many humans in it.
He dives on top of Sypha in an instant, one leg stuck up so that when Trevor lands, it's going to be in his stomach. Enough to throw him off, enough to send him flying. The goal, the goal right now is to just get Trevor out of the lab. Away from Sypha. Away from things that can break and burn and bruise, and then he'll shove his own wrist in Trevor's stupid mouth to see if that will quell any of the horrible thirst within.
(Three days. They have endured it for three days.)
(They are three.)
(Perhaps that is important.)]
[ He can't feel it. Whatever part of him is still in there and thinking and fucking holy water, Sypha. He gave you holy water. Use it! can't feel it. It can feel the aftereffects of the turning but the kick, the kick is nothing.
Or not quite nothing. It does send him flying , out through the door of the lab and into the hallway beyond it. The door of the opposite room snaps off its hinges with the impact of Trevor slamming against it. He can barely feel that, either. It's amazing, just how little pain there is, as if there can be none after the turning, and it would be so, so easy to get caught up in that, to let the painless, horrible survival lead him completely.
He doesn't. He still struggles against it. But it's useless. A low growl rumbles in his throat as he lands on all fours, claws scraping into the stone floor before he charges again, Alucard now the closer target. ]
Or not quite nothing. It does send him flying , out through the door of the lab and into the hallway beyond it. The door of the opposite room snaps off its hinges with the impact of Trevor slamming against it. He can barely feel that, either. It's amazing, just how little pain there is, as if there can be none after the turning, and it would be so, so easy to get caught up in that, to let the painless, horrible survival lead him completely.
He doesn't. He still struggles against it. But it's useless. A low growl rumbles in his throat as he lands on all fours, claws scraping into the stone floor before he charges again, Alucard now the closer target. ]
[Alucard's on his feet on a flash, quick words given to Sypha. Close the door. Iron. Iron and the other thing, mix it and set it alight. She's horrified. He's horrified too, but the greater priority is calming Trevor not dealing with whatever horrible things will surface in Alucard's head when the smell hits.
He's out the door. The door to the lab is closed, and there's a precious second of magic sounding that means the door is also reinforced. Good. Good. She's safe. Trevor's distracted. It will have to do for now.
The landing is consistent not with vampire skills but with Belmont ones. Trevor is still Trevor, just a quicker, more vicious version of himself right now. He has new advantages, and there are no weapons here. Just claws and fangs and if the latter take control maybe it will help.
And maybe, just maybe, he's going to bait this. Extend his own nails, dig them into skin, put the scent of blood in the air. It is a horrible, horrible trick, but if dhampir blood can calm Trevor down for two seconds, then he'll take it.
He can loose a pint of blood for this, that will be an acceptable cost to prevent this from happening for the next three days.]
He's out the door. The door to the lab is closed, and there's a precious second of magic sounding that means the door is also reinforced. Good. Good. She's safe. Trevor's distracted. It will have to do for now.
The landing is consistent not with vampire skills but with Belmont ones. Trevor is still Trevor, just a quicker, more vicious version of himself right now. He has new advantages, and there are no weapons here. Just claws and fangs and if the latter take control maybe it will help.
And maybe, just maybe, he's going to bait this. Extend his own nails, dig them into skin, put the scent of blood in the air. It is a horrible, horrible trick, but if dhampir blood can calm Trevor down for two seconds, then he'll take it.
He can loose a pint of blood for this, that will be an acceptable cost to prevent this from happening for the next three days.]
[ He can smell it. He can see the light of torches glinting, reflected from induvidual drops. So sharp, so clear. And he is desperate. He is ravenous, desperate from it. Trevor is gone, with the smell of blood. Entirely. There is only the selfish, and it wants and it wants and it wants and it cannot understand why it should be left to want when it has such power, such grace, that it could take anything it pleases from anyone it cared to take it from.
It is gone in the darkness and then it is upon Alucard, tackling him back with claws digging into his chest and face above his, pupils so wide with the smell of blood that there is no blue visible at all in its eyes, and it is wearing Trevor's face but it is not Trevor. ]
It is gone in the darkness and then it is upon Alucard, tackling him back with claws digging into his chest and face above his, pupils so wide with the smell of blood that there is no blue visible at all in its eyes, and it is wearing Trevor's face but it is not Trevor. ]
[The gambit works too effectively. It gives Alucard no time to brace for the impact, because the Thing That Is Not Trevor is on him too fast. Belmont battle speed supplemented by vampirism. Stupid miscalculation, when he needs calculation more than ever. Because if Trevor's going to bite (and at this point, it is clear he is), it has to be in a controlled spot. Not the wrist, it's sacred to Trevor. Not the neck, it's tied up with too many pleasant evenings in bed. The thigh is impossible to redirect to.
Elbow. Right in the bend. It'll do, there's no attachment to the spot.
This is the dumbest thing Alucard has done in some time. He shoves his elbow right into Trevor's mouth, trusting instinct first and then if nothing else, Sypha to send a horrible waft of air that will put both of them spinning for so very different reasons.
The claws in the chest will heal. The memory of that face will take much longer to fade.]
Elbow. Right in the bend. It'll do, there's no attachment to the spot.
This is the dumbest thing Alucard has done in some time. He shoves his elbow right into Trevor's mouth, trusting instinct first and then if nothing else, Sypha to send a horrible waft of air that will put both of them spinning for so very different reasons.
The claws in the chest will heal. The memory of that face will take much longer to fade.]
[ He bites down, and it is not clean. It is not two neat punctures and suckling at the wound. That kind of control and artistry, reducing the damage so to avoid being caught, is a skill learned and practiced by vampires who must live among humans and protect their identity. This is an animal ripping into its kill. He bites down on the flesh, fangs piercing into the artery, and then pulls back sharply, tearing it away.
(And thank god Alucard decided against the neck, because otherwise this would be a repeat of what had happened to Trevor only days ago)
And then there is blood. There is so much blood, bright and hot and thick with the smell of copper, and he lets it flood into his mouth. He consumes like Trevor so usually does when he is unwell or injured, with the kind of desperate hunger and only barely restrained fear that comes from knowing what recovering from injury while starved is like. By the time the selfishness' hunger is finally sated, his face is stained with the stuff just about everywhere below his eyes, hair plastered to his face with it. Trevor is shaking, eyes (blue again, now, pupils shurnk to a pinprick in horror) darting between the horrible bite and Alucard's face and his clawed hands, still hooked into his chest and his mouth opens and closes in horror, trying to form words but unable to, blood trickling out of it as it does. ]
(And thank god Alucard decided against the neck, because otherwise this would be a repeat of what had happened to Trevor only days ago)
And then there is blood. There is so much blood, bright and hot and thick with the smell of copper, and he lets it flood into his mouth. He consumes like Trevor so usually does when he is unwell or injured, with the kind of desperate hunger and only barely restrained fear that comes from knowing what recovering from injury while starved is like. By the time the selfishness' hunger is finally sated, his face is stained with the stuff just about everywhere below his eyes, hair plastered to his face with it. Trevor is shaking, eyes (blue again, now, pupils shurnk to a pinprick in horror) darting between the horrible bite and Alucard's face and his clawed hands, still hooked into his chest and his mouth opens and closes in horror, trying to form words but unable to, blood trickling out of it as it does. ]
[Somewhere in all of this, because this is far more painful than Alucard ever expected, he calls out for Sypha. Tells her now! And from the crack below the door there is that horrible, horrible smell. Alucard gags on it, the memories coming up to the surface within an instant. He hears a laugh that he knows is long since dead, and that, that hurts much worse than his destroyed elbow. Because it is so very destroyed, the neatness of the art not learned yet. (He won't have to fucking learn it, they're fixing this.)
When the worst is passed (and that stuff hangs heavy in the air, so heavy, so oppressive), Alucard takes his other arm and very, very carefully makes sure that Trevor's watching as everything heals. It's still instant, because Alucard is himself, and that is the reason he took this risk at all. He could bear it.
He's lost more than a pint, it seems. Not too much over, but Alucard knows that this was a one shot deal at best. There can't be a next time for this, because Sypha would not survive it. That is a simple fact.]
I'm fine.
[It's healed. Nothing lasts from you. You've profaned nothing on me.]
When the worst is passed (and that stuff hangs heavy in the air, so heavy, so oppressive), Alucard takes his other arm and very, very carefully makes sure that Trevor's watching as everything heals. It's still instant, because Alucard is himself, and that is the reason he took this risk at all. He could bear it.
He's lost more than a pint, it seems. Not too much over, but Alucard knows that this was a one shot deal at best. There can't be a next time for this, because Sypha would not survive it. That is a simple fact.]
I'm fine.
[It's healed. Nothing lasts from you. You've profaned nothing on me.]
I-
[ Three days. He’s a Belmont, and he kept from the temptation to feed for three days. Less. They weren’t even full days. Seven hours.
He feels sick. He wants to vomit (it would be a terrible waste, but he’s hardly thinking about that right now). The smell, though, the smell won’t let him. Too destructive. Too much like agression. Perhaps he could have been objective about this were it taking blood under different circumstances, seen it as just a measure to sustain himself. Perhaps not, he would still be himself, after all.
Cautiously, cautiously, he moves closer to Alucard. It’s wrong to, he knows it is. He doesn’t want to touch them as what he is now, because what he is now is disgusting. Moreso than he’d realised before. But even now, this is still Alucard. He was still hurt. And- that, that he knows what to do about. He can’t pull him close, not with that smell in the air, but he can wrap his arms very softly around Alucard. ]
It won’t happen again. [ And he means so many things by that. The feeding. Carmilla. The incense being used to hurt him. All of it. ]
[ Three days. He’s a Belmont, and he kept from the temptation to feed for three days. Less. They weren’t even full days. Seven hours.
He feels sick. He wants to vomit (it would be a terrible waste, but he’s hardly thinking about that right now). The smell, though, the smell won’t let him. Too destructive. Too much like agression. Perhaps he could have been objective about this were it taking blood under different circumstances, seen it as just a measure to sustain himself. Perhaps not, he would still be himself, after all.
Cautiously, cautiously, he moves closer to Alucard. It’s wrong to, he knows it is. He doesn’t want to touch them as what he is now, because what he is now is disgusting. Moreso than he’d realised before. But even now, this is still Alucard. He was still hurt. And- that, that he knows what to do about. He can’t pull him close, not with that smell in the air, but he can wrap his arms very softly around Alucard. ]
It won’t happen again. [ And he means so many things by that. The feeding. Carmilla. The incense being used to hurt him. All of it. ]
[That softness is met with the tightest grip. Practically dragging Trevor on top of him, holding him fast, refusing to let him have even an inch of escape. The gesture is not of terror or cold calculation. It is of the fiercest protection Alucard has ever felt compelled to express, because he can only say that this is going to be fixed so many times before it starts to sound like a hollow lie on his lips.
Trevor isn't allowed to move. Not until Alucard allows it. He know that there is going to be the worst self loathing in the pit of Trevor for this. It isn't allowed. He won't permit it. This is just how it goes, this is how vampirism begins, this is a natural thing and there is only mercy that Alucard is strong enough to endure all of it.
Carmilla's barely a thought right now. The horrible concoction does not prevent protection is not a cruel instinct.]
Trevor isn't allowed to move. Not until Alucard allows it. He know that there is going to be the worst self loathing in the pit of Trevor for this. It isn't allowed. He won't permit it. This is just how it goes, this is how vampirism begins, this is a natural thing and there is only mercy that Alucard is strong enough to endure all of it.
Carmilla's barely a thought right now. The horrible concoction does not prevent protection is not a cruel instinct.]
[ He is still, because he has no choice but to be still. Alucard's grip is powerful, powerful enough that to try to move would be struggling. And he is safe here. Safe from doing that terrible thing again. Sypha stands some distance away. She does not approach (because of the blood, Trevor knows in the back of his mind, because there is so much blood and if there is even a scratch on her- he can't bring himself to listen to that kind of logic). He can hardly blame her. He wouldn't want to be anywhere near him, either.
(He is disgusting. He is disgusting. He is disgusting and he is so fucking weak. Useless.)
He can feel a warm breeze over his hair and Alucard's, as she comforts them both the only way she can from such a distance. She mumbles something about drawing them both a bath once midnight strikes, so that she can hold them safely then. He can't say sorry. Not only because he's already been forbidden to, but because how the fuck can sorry be enough for what he's just done? He hasn't heard so much pain in Alucard's voice, so much fear in Sypha's, since the boat and the silver and the communion wine. What he does say, eventually, is more cold strategy. ]
The barracks. I'll stay in the barracks. [ It's a seperate building, small, near the table. Probably used to sleep Leon and his company (they had not found a room of Leon's own in this place, and while there was no doubt as to where he truly spent his nights, propriety would have demanded that he at least pretend to keep quarters of his own). ] We can flood it with the fucking incense, and the two of you can observe whatever you need to through the mirror.
(He is disgusting. He is disgusting. He is disgusting and he is so fucking weak. Useless.)
He can feel a warm breeze over his hair and Alucard's, as she comforts them both the only way she can from such a distance. She mumbles something about drawing them both a bath once midnight strikes, so that she can hold them safely then. He can't say sorry. Not only because he's already been forbidden to, but because how the fuck can sorry be enough for what he's just done? He hasn't heard so much pain in Alucard's voice, so much fear in Sypha's, since the boat and the silver and the communion wine. What he does say, eventually, is more cold strategy. ]
The barracks. I'll stay in the barracks. [ It's a seperate building, small, near the table. Probably used to sleep Leon and his company (they had not found a room of Leon's own in this place, and while there was no doubt as to where he truly spent his nights, propriety would have demanded that he at least pretend to keep quarters of his own). ] We can flood it with the fucking incense, and the two of you can observe whatever you need to through the mirror.
Of course-
[ And there's laughter in his voice again, which usually means he's going to say something terrible. Alucard's efforts, lips on his collarbone, hand peeling back his shirt just a little, manage to avert disaster for a little while. He gives a soft, low sound of appreciation. But all things must come to an end, and as he enters the bedroom (he'd had the foresight to leave the door open, so he woundn't need to try to juggle the vampire to free a hand to turn the handle) he finally says the terrible, terrible thing. ]
I do hope you don't feel such distaste for all things that are terribly hard for you.
[ And there's laughter in his voice again, which usually means he's going to say something terrible. Alucard's efforts, lips on his collarbone, hand peeling back his shirt just a little, manage to avert disaster for a little while. He gives a soft, low sound of appreciation. But all things must come to an end, and as he enters the bedroom (he'd had the foresight to leave the door open, so he woundn't need to try to juggle the vampire to free a hand to turn the handle) he finally says the terrible, terrible thing. ]
I do hope you don't feel such distaste for all things that are terribly hard for you.
[It is so very terrible. And so very Trevor. And Alucard can't help but be proud that he averted this from being uttered for just a few moments, because that means he's doing something right too.
The laugh in response, low and heady and delighted in spite of that really being terrible, is made so very close to Trevor's skin.]
There's one or two I'm enthusiastic about.
The laugh in response, low and heady and delighted in spite of that really being terrible, is made so very close to Trevor's skin.]
There's one or two I'm enthusiastic about.
[Alucard wants to mutter about maybe getting some water in a bucket to at least clean off Trevor's face. There's a quieter horror in what that action really means, because it requires him washing his own blood off of it. The three of them being covered in blood it happens from time to time. But not like this. And never to this extent.
He manages to at least lock eyes with Sypha in the end, and that's enough to put that plan into action. The bucket is scooted over the floor with a soft gust of wind, and there's a terrible old scrap of cloth that has been sacrificed for the work. It can sit there for a few moment more.
Even as Trevor speaks of strategy (and it is good strategy, that's always the worst of it), Alucard's grip doesn't change. The worst of the physical pain is long past now. There's just this new terrible dimension of psychological torture.]
We need to clear that place out first, just in case there's anything that can do you harm.
[More pointedly, Alucard isn't moving to let go.]
He manages to at least lock eyes with Sypha in the end, and that's enough to put that plan into action. The bucket is scooted over the floor with a soft gust of wind, and there's a terrible old scrap of cloth that has been sacrificed for the work. It can sit there for a few moment more.
Even as Trevor speaks of strategy (and it is good strategy, that's always the worst of it), Alucard's grip doesn't change. The worst of the physical pain is long past now. There's just this new terrible dimension of psychological torture.]
We need to clear that place out first, just in case there's anything that can do you harm.
[More pointedly, Alucard isn't moving to let go.]
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