There's- not a lot to explain, really. This is the only thing that needs it, and you understood it the second you saw it.
[ Because Alucard's brilliant. Both of them are. He loves them both so much. And in truth this doesn't feel like enough, but it's what he can achieve with what he's good at - work and not being afraid of filth and memorizing the fuck out of every relevant text in one of the smaller sections of Dracula's library (because what use does a vampire have for texts on the best soil conditions for growing certain kinds of fruit? He half-suspects that most of the books in that section were acquired as gifts for his wife). ]
But I'll show you. Come with me.
[ He opens the door of the he-doesn't-know-that-it's-called-a-greenhouse-yet to lead Alucard into the old kitchen gardens of the Belmont house. It's split into two parts, now, with a wall between the parts closest to the old house (where the mass grave is, and the whole thing is alive with wildflowers this time of year) and the part where he's been working.
He's been working a lot.
The plants that were there for Belmont Reasons, the aconite and dogrose and hawthorne and sloe, all of them have been dug up and moved into the great mess of wildflowers. Still there if they're ever needed, but far enough away and controlled enough to not be a danger to the vampire and forming a tight barrier of thorns around the grave. In their place, the garden is- right now it's a lot of dirt, because things take time to grow. Some of them won't be ready for this harvest season (though the spinach is already showing signs of being an overachieving little shit that's going to take over everything if left unchecked, and the strawberries are already starting to bar fruit). But they're there, even if some of them are still only barely visible above the ground. Along the garden side of the wall, close enough to the mess of wildflowers to hopefully attract occupants come next spring, are five bee skeps.
And he's watching Alucard's face so carefully now, watching for any reaction at all. ]
I- don't think bee stings should hurt you. So it seemed like a waste not to have them.
no subject
[ Because Alucard's brilliant. Both of them are. He loves them both so much. And in truth this doesn't feel like enough, but it's what he can achieve with what he's good at - work and not being afraid of filth and memorizing the fuck out of every relevant text in one of the smaller sections of Dracula's library (because what use does a vampire have for texts on the best soil conditions for growing certain kinds of fruit? He half-suspects that most of the books in that section were acquired as gifts for his wife). ]
But I'll show you. Come with me.
[ He opens the door of the he-doesn't-know-that-it's-called-a-greenhouse-yet to lead Alucard into the old kitchen gardens of the Belmont house. It's split into two parts, now, with a wall between the parts closest to the old house (where the mass grave is, and the whole thing is alive with wildflowers this time of year) and the part where he's been working.
He's been working a lot.
The plants that were there for Belmont Reasons, the aconite and dogrose and hawthorne and sloe, all of them have been dug up and moved into the great mess of wildflowers. Still there if they're ever needed, but far enough away and controlled enough to not be a danger to the vampire and forming a tight barrier of thorns around the grave. In their place, the garden is- right now it's a lot of dirt, because things take time to grow. Some of them won't be ready for this harvest season (though the spinach is already showing signs of being an overachieving little shit that's going to take over everything if left unchecked, and the strawberries are already starting to bar fruit). But they're there, even if some of them are still only barely visible above the ground. Along the garden side of the wall, close enough to the mess of wildflowers to hopefully attract occupants come next spring, are five bee skeps.
And he's watching Alucard's face so carefully now, watching for any reaction at all. ]
I- don't think bee stings should hurt you. So it seemed like a waste not to have them.