[Alucard sighs, dipping the cloth into the water and trying to scrub at the rest that Trevor's not going to be able to reach. (The back of Trevor's neck is a goddamn skill, that's what that is.) The touch isn't gentle either, it's just mother hen making such everything's clean. Maybe that will get a comment, because he's mother henning a vampire, and at least that word would bring some dark laugh up to the surface.
As it is, he wants to say something. Anything to kill the terrible tension. A joke about Gresit or how really, all three of them are often covered in blood, but he can't. It isn't right. He's not the right person to make it. So he just watches that bucket grow redder and redder with his own blood instead, trying to get every last bit of Trevor cleaned off.]
[ It's too late, now, to take great mouthfuls of the water and spit them back out to get the taste out of his mouth. He probably should have thought of that before the water became so badly tainted with it.
And he doesn't joke. He doesn't say any of the obvious things. He doesn't say anything, just washes his hands and face, pulls his shirt off and tosses it into the room opposite the lab, the one that he'd broken open the door to. He'll burn it later. He only stops when the there's just as much blood in the water as there is on him and there's no more that he can clean away with it. It's diluted, at least, enough to allow Sypha to come close.
And she does come close, without hesitation. And that's fucking heartrending after all of this, how stubbornly she refuses to be afraid of him, and it's all he can do not to sob uselessly (not because of pride, not anymore, because there's none left. But crying right now means more fucking blood, means she has to back away again). ]
I'm a fucking monster. [ He says, eventually, as she curls up against the both of them, letting them both hold her weight. There's humor to it but it's sharp, bitter, absolutely not the sort of joke that Alucard was waiting for, and the laugh that follows is more like a growl than anything else. ]
[He wants to joke about dramatics. He wants to so bad, and maybe when it's all over and healed and scabbed over, Alucard will. But there's something worse about that statement, because Alucard remembers their first time in the Hold. How he talked to Sypha about where her affections seem to now lie, and if it was truly good to be with someone who was constructed of such self loathing and self destruction. He has accounted for the latter already. The former...
There's a horrible sigh that he doesn't clamp down, pulling the both as close as he can. His arms can and will take them both, but he can't find the right words that will convince Trevor no you're not. After this, he'll say the same thing, and they'll fight about it. God, and it had been less present over the years.
Shut up. That's an option to say too, but there's no kind way to say it. It's amazing how everything fails Alucard in this moment. They build up, they break, and they come together again. This time the broken pieces are tinier. Harder to put back together.
In the end, he settles on kissing the top of Trevor's head again.]
[ He hates that of the three, he's the most fragile - and he is, and he knows that he is. He's the oldest of them, the one trained from birth to face the greatest horrors that the world could force upon him. The one who's had the longest to steel himself to those horrors. The one softened the least by years of love.
And yet Alucard endures. And Sypha takes what hurts her and speaks it and turns it into soft, harmless words. And he breaks.
He leans against Alucard at that kiss. Both of them do. He holds on to both of them as tightly as he can (and perhaps the incense keeping him from holding them tighter is a blessing, because he imagines that he doesn't know his own strength right now. ]
[Time's slipped by rather badly this time around. All three of them have been caught up in this horror that to go and check a clock just hasn't happened. Alucard admits it with a soft embarrassment. They should be keeping better track of time, all of their work in fixing this requires that fact.
He doesn't move to check though. Sypha's staying put. Trevor's too cold arms are there, and they're still Trevor's arms so who cares about warmth or cold so long as they are Trevor's? Alucard would kiss Trevor on the lips and taste his own blood in his mouth if it wouldn't make the thought of monster even worse.]
[ He goes quiet, and it's partly because what is there to say, and partly because there's a quiet snore from between them, and it's all he can do to look down at her and laugh quietly and genuinely. She's a miracle, a wonder, being able to sleep at a time like this (or perhaps being able to sleep because of a time like this. That's how she functions. There's safe, and there's nothing she can do to make things better, and she's exhausted and so she sleeps because it's just that simple sometimes).
And he waits. This is as peaceful as it is terrible now, and that has to be enough.
(He doesn't sleep as a vampire. Not because of any quirk of physiology - he probably oughtn't need to sleep so much, but the effort of turning probably should affect that. It's because of that conversation he had with Alucard a few nights ago, about sleeping as a wolf and the twitching of paws in his sleep. They never investigated that (they should, when this is over, because it feels nice to have a 'when this is over' to look forward to) but he'd rather not find out if the same applies to him, if he'd have his own quirks when sleeping as a vampire.)
It takes a while. It had felt like forever, the turning and the feeding and the cleaning, but apparently it had only been maybe half an hour because time is like that, dragging itself along slowly when the world has its metaphorical heel on one's metaphorical cock. But eventually it happens. It's the third time now, and he's come to expect the strange force behind his ribs. ]
Heartbeat. Felt it. [ He says, as if the sudden movement of his body, as if he's just been punched in the chest, wasn't a giveaway. ] It's happening.
[Alucard's pretty sure that Sypha's asleep out of a combination of stress, exhaustion, and the more usual weight of the two of them around her. The last one's important, and she needs that sleep so very badly. He does too, he's well aware that he's gotten maybe six hours in full, and he needs more in order to work properly. This situation, it's not quite recovering from Carmilla, but it's closer. He's demanding more of himself, so his body must rest more like a human's.
He keeps his eyes open for a very long time, just watching the two in his arms. Saying nothing, not even venturing a sigh. They need this quiet, and they'll have it until Trevor's internal body clock realizes that midnight has come, and they must relieve this experience again.
So when it does, Alucard nudges Sypha awake.]
Okay.
[Alucard's calm. God, he's too calm isn't he? He has that thought as Sypha gets to her feet, and she's quick to move the bucket out of the way and into a corner so that they can avoid ay spills.
It does not escape Alucard's notice that the incense still hangs in the air. That's new. He doesn't say it out loud, but they'll all wonder it in a few minutes: will that help ease this transformation?]
[ 'Ease' is a strong word, maybe. It doesn't relieve the pain. But it keeps Trevor's movements and sounds slow and deliberate and safe. He doesn't thrash about, he doesn't scream, just curls in upon himself in agony. Soft whines and sobs come from him.
It also allows for pinpointing of the exact moment when he starts to count as 'human', because it's about halfway through the transformation that the whines become a much harsher yell and he begins beating a fist against the floor.
And then it's done, and the tension fades from his body, and the floor beneath him - he'd fallen on to his side somewhere in that process and only just notices now he can feel the cold stone against one cheek - is clean of bloodstains, and the door behind them is repaired and he just lies there gasping for breath. ]
[Part of Alucard is still a scientist trying to figure out all of this. It...it helps him with something he's thought about with the stone and the system to remove toxins, and how they might prevent any premature removal of the needles needed for transfusion. They'll have to use the incense, because it will keep everything in place. Nothing will be batted away.
But the rest of him is still aghast, and it means that this time through the transformation, Alucard is right down on the floor next to Trevor. Curling up on himself means at least Alucard can put a hand on Trevor's back, firm and if not reassuring, at least present in a way that he couldn't be before. It is not ideal. But it isn't worse as far as he's concerned, so at least there is improvement.
The fist on the floor does no one any good. Alucard tries to make it still, make it stop, and then everything is over for now. Trevor's face is dragged into Alucard's lap. There's a cool hand on his cheek. The other is in his hair.
I'm here. I'm here. You're not a monster. I'm here.]
[ Human. He's human again. And it hurts, but he can deal with that. Fuck, he's willing to just live with the pain of turning back for as long as it takes if it means he can just remain himself and never, never, never do that again.
He can feel Alucard's hands on his face and in his hair as the pain recedes enough to let him sense things outside of it. And Sypha is there, taking his hand and holding it for a moment before moving her hands up his arm, testing and measuring. He's lost no more muscle mass since the turning back last night (they hadn't noticed so much after the first night, all too relieved that they might have a chance to undo this. It was the second night when they took note of it, because both of them settled against his chest and apparently both of them are informed enough about his chest to notice changes). The feeding achieved that, at least, his body using Alucard's blood to fuel its constant changing and changing back rather than consuming itself.
(Sypha seems relieved by it, but he doesn't find it nearly so comforting as she does. He's starved before, he'd rather do it again than this new, horrible, unfamiliar shit.) ]
Well. [ And it hurts, it hurts, but he's a little more capable of horrible humor now. ] That's information for the hold, I suppose. Being a vampire has no effect at all on one's self-control. It's as bad as ever.
[There it is. The terrible fucking joke, and Alucard's face melts in relief for it. His laugh is so thin and so very near to cracking, but it's there and it is relieved.]
Or terrible sense of humor.
[He says it with terrible fondness, like he might break down for that instead of everything else that has happened tonight. Alucard's certain that his breaking point will come soon, spurred on by more turnings and more failed attempts to put this all to rights.
Alucard's watched Sypha take her careful measurements of Trevor's mass. Notes that there's an undercurrent of if not approval, then relief, because they had been noticing the same things. There's enough human in Alucard's blood to sustain the vampiric cravings, enough to put Trevor's body back to rights when he is human again.
There we have it. Being a vampire doesn't improve me at all.
[ He's already regretting the 'self control' jab at himself, because fuck if that doesn't invite the comparison of the compulsion to feed to the occasional burning need to drink until he stops thinking that he can still feel sometimes. (Thankfully, right now, no matter how much he feels it it's impossible. Even water is too much to take in anything other than tiny sips.). It's- probably worth considering if ruining ones self-control with years of alcohol has an effect on the ability to resist the call to drink blood. It's also impossible for him to think about in an unbiased way, so he puts it out of his mind. ]
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cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
no subject
As it is, he wants to say something. Anything to kill the terrible tension. A joke about Gresit or how really, all three of them are often covered in blood, but he can't. It isn't right. He's not the right person to make it. So he just watches that bucket grow redder and redder with his own blood instead, trying to get every last bit of Trevor cleaned off.]
no subject
And he doesn't joke. He doesn't say any of the obvious things. He doesn't say anything, just washes his hands and face, pulls his shirt off and tosses it into the room opposite the lab, the one that he'd broken open the door to. He'll burn it later. He only stops when the there's just as much blood in the water as there is on him and there's no more that he can clean away with it. It's diluted, at least, enough to allow Sypha to come close.
And she does come close, without hesitation. And that's fucking heartrending after all of this, how stubbornly she refuses to be afraid of him, and it's all he can do not to sob uselessly (not because of pride, not anymore, because there's none left. But crying right now means more fucking blood, means she has to back away again). ]
I'm a fucking monster. [ He says, eventually, as she curls up against the both of them, letting them both hold her weight. There's humor to it but it's sharp, bitter, absolutely not the sort of joke that Alucard was waiting for, and the laugh that follows is more like a growl than anything else. ]
no subject
There's a horrible sigh that he doesn't clamp down, pulling the both as close as he can. His arms can and will take them both, but he can't find the right words that will convince Trevor no you're not. After this, he'll say the same thing, and they'll fight about it. God, and it had been less present over the years.
Shut up. That's an option to say too, but there's no kind way to say it. It's amazing how everything fails Alucard in this moment. They build up, they break, and they come together again. This time the broken pieces are tinier. Harder to put back together.
In the end, he settles on kissing the top of Trevor's head again.]
no subject
And yet Alucard endures. And Sypha takes what hurts her and speaks it and turns it into soft, harmless words. And he breaks.
He leans against Alucard at that kiss. Both of them do. He holds on to both of them as tightly as he can (and perhaps the incense keeping him from holding them tighter is a blessing, because he imagines that he doesn't know his own strength right now. ]
How long until midnight?
no subject
[Time's slipped by rather badly this time around. All three of them have been caught up in this horror that to go and check a clock just hasn't happened. Alucard admits it with a soft embarrassment. They should be keeping better track of time, all of their work in fixing this requires that fact.
He doesn't move to check though. Sypha's staying put. Trevor's too cold arms are there, and they're still Trevor's arms so who cares about warmth or cold so long as they are Trevor's? Alucard would kiss Trevor on the lips and taste his own blood in his mouth if it wouldn't make the thought of monster even worse.]
no subject
And he waits. This is as peaceful as it is terrible now, and that has to be enough.
(He doesn't sleep as a vampire. Not because of any quirk of physiology - he probably oughtn't need to sleep so much, but the effort of turning probably should affect that. It's because of that conversation he had with Alucard a few nights ago, about sleeping as a wolf and the twitching of paws in his sleep. They never investigated that (they should, when this is over, because it feels nice to have a 'when this is over' to look forward to) but he'd rather not find out if the same applies to him, if he'd have his own quirks when sleeping as a vampire.)
It takes a while. It had felt like forever, the turning and the feeding and the cleaning, but apparently it had only been maybe half an hour because time is like that, dragging itself along slowly when the world has its metaphorical heel on one's metaphorical cock. But eventually it happens. It's the third time now, and he's come to expect the strange force behind his ribs. ]
Heartbeat. Felt it. [ He says, as if the sudden movement of his body, as if he's just been punched in the chest, wasn't a giveaway. ] It's happening.
no subject
He keeps his eyes open for a very long time, just watching the two in his arms. Saying nothing, not even venturing a sigh. They need this quiet, and they'll have it until Trevor's internal body clock realizes that midnight has come, and they must relieve this experience again.
So when it does, Alucard nudges Sypha awake.]
Okay.
[Alucard's calm. God, he's too calm isn't he? He has that thought as Sypha gets to her feet, and she's quick to move the bucket out of the way and into a corner so that they can avoid ay spills.
It does not escape Alucard's notice that the incense still hangs in the air. That's new. He doesn't say it out loud, but they'll all wonder it in a few minutes: will that help ease this transformation?]
no subject
It also allows for pinpointing of the exact moment when he starts to count as 'human', because it's about halfway through the transformation that the whines become a much harsher yell and he begins beating a fist against the floor.
And then it's done, and the tension fades from his body, and the floor beneath him - he'd fallen on to his side somewhere in that process and only just notices now he can feel the cold stone against one cheek - is clean of bloodstains, and the door behind them is repaired and he just lies there gasping for breath. ]
no subject
But the rest of him is still aghast, and it means that this time through the transformation, Alucard is right down on the floor next to Trevor. Curling up on himself means at least Alucard can put a hand on Trevor's back, firm and if not reassuring, at least present in a way that he couldn't be before. It is not ideal. But it isn't worse as far as he's concerned, so at least there is improvement.
The fist on the floor does no one any good. Alucard tries to make it still, make it stop, and then everything is over for now. Trevor's face is dragged into Alucard's lap. There's a cool hand on his cheek. The other is in his hair.
I'm here. I'm here. You're not a monster. I'm here.]
no subject
He can feel Alucard's hands on his face and in his hair as the pain recedes enough to let him sense things outside of it. And Sypha is there, taking his hand and holding it for a moment before moving her hands up his arm, testing and measuring. He's lost no more muscle mass since the turning back last night (they hadn't noticed so much after the first night, all too relieved that they might have a chance to undo this. It was the second night when they took note of it, because both of them settled against his chest and apparently both of them are informed enough about his chest to notice changes). The feeding achieved that, at least, his body using Alucard's blood to fuel its constant changing and changing back rather than consuming itself.
(Sypha seems relieved by it, but he doesn't find it nearly so comforting as she does. He's starved before, he'd rather do it again than this new, horrible, unfamiliar shit.) ]
Well. [ And it hurts, it hurts, but he's a little more capable of horrible humor now. ] That's information for the hold, I suppose. Being a vampire has no effect at all on one's self-control. It's as bad as ever.
no subject
Or terrible sense of humor.
[He says it with terrible fondness, like he might break down for that instead of everything else that has happened tonight. Alucard's certain that his breaking point will come soon, spurred on by more turnings and more failed attempts to put this all to rights.
Alucard's watched Sypha take her careful measurements of Trevor's mass. Notes that there's an undercurrent of if not approval, then relief, because they had been noticing the same things. There's enough human in Alucard's blood to sustain the vampiric cravings, enough to put Trevor's body back to rights when he is human again.
Three, it seems, is still the order of the day.]
no subject
[ He's already regretting the 'self control' jab at himself, because fuck if that doesn't invite the comparison of the compulsion to feed to the occasional burning need to drink until he stops thinking that he can still feel sometimes. (Thankfully, right now, no matter how much he feels it it's impossible. Even water is too much to take in anything other than tiny sips.). It's- probably worth considering if ruining ones self-control with years of alcohol has an effect on the ability to resist the call to drink blood. It's also impossible for him to think about in an unbiased way, so he puts it out of his mind. ]