[There's blood coming out of Trevor's neck. Alucard's first and only instinct is to apply pressure to the wound because he's bleeding from his fucking neck and that's a quick way to die. It takes a moment of him lurching forward to realize that no. No this is good. It's working. Trevor's agony is muted so much more than it has been in any of these other attempts and...
...and Sypha tugs on him. Demands more intent for the stone, demands it from both, because it has already begun to dwindle and it needs more, more, more to work. Alucard hisses because he's too caught up in that terrible fear of Trevor just bleeding out in spite of all of this, and Sypha has to physically move Alucard's hands where they need it to be.
There is a wild shred of hope. That shred has been in Alucard's grasp twice before in this process, and he clings to it as fiercely as he can. Puts every last bit of intent that he can into the stone he has in his hands (is in Sypha's hands, is in Trevor's because she's brought his hands back up too, even the one with the needles in it).
Get out. Get out of those veins. We are not our fathers. Get out. It is the will of no God that he be whole and human but ours. We who destroyed Dracula himself. We who have written Carmilla from the pages of history. We who do the things no others can because we have the strength to do it. This destroys that. This destroys the world. This is apocalypse in waiting and I shall not allow it. This is my intent, this is my will, all of this is my world and nothing may destroy it again.]
[ And with that- with that it's done. He knows that it's done, because he's a fucking Belmont. And because he's become the local expert on how it feels to suddenly have vampire blood gone from one's system after having that exact thing happen eight times. The rest of the process he knows - a lot of it he's been through even before all of this. There'll be sores over the next few days, opening themselves up to push out the last of it. Nothing supernatural, nothing magical, just a body rejecting something contaminated.
And it must be visible to Sypha, too, because she leaves the stone and the tube in Alucard's hands and moves hers to his neck, trailing fingers across the join between human and vampire skin to burn the seam shut. Distantly, he can smell burning flesh, but he can barely feel it. Everything else hurts too much, the burning is just more and it fades into the rest of it. That little bit of something terrible, that he'll have to keep. It would never heal as a human. But- it's discolored skin. Nothing worse. He'll live with it.
Sypha's arms are around his neck and shoulders now, pulling him tightly against her. And he's tired. So, so tired. But they have three hours. Three hours to send him through the mirror. Home, probably, but really to anywhere that isn't this estate. Because fuck, this cannot be reset.
[It isn't until Sypha heals the wound that Alucard even dares to entertain the thought that somehow, this has worked. He still has the stone in his hand as Sypha drags Trevor close to her. He's just staring at them both in total disbelief.
He gets to his feet, stone left on the floor for a moment. Goes over to the box of medical tools they've stashed in the corner in case ther was a need, and with that he takes out bandages. Bandages because the injection site will not heal automatically.
(It won't heal automatically!)
It's so easy to focus on the requirements for removing the transfusion equipment. Needles out. Bandages applied with all the right pressure. Equipment moved far away in case there is any horrible lingering vampire blood that can undo all of this.
He's whole. He's human. He looks like absolute shit. (There is a joke about how Trevor always looks like shit. Or maybe the Vampire Jesus joke is better. No. That comes after a few days of quiet.) He's Trevor again, in all the ways that matter most. And for that there's a thin, nervous laugh that betrays total bewilderment at this success, before Alucard buries his head on Trevor's chest and settles besides his heartbeat.
They have to make sure this doesn't reset. Alucard's not actually sure Trevor can stand easily, never mind go through a barrier. Or a magic mirror. But it has to be done, and then the two of them can order the Belmont to rest and pack up the estate. There's too much equipment scattered around, they have to deal with the horse too, and and and
and Trevor is human so everything else is lighteness.
And because he can. Because it'd be wrong not to, there's a softer laugh from Alucard, pressed against that very same heart.]
[ It's going to be months before he's back to how it was. It's the lost muscle mass mostly, because he's lean and haggard in a way he hasn't been since the last winter before Dracula's rampage began (it had been a long winter, and he'd been ill during it, and being ill meant no hunting, no working, no money to buy food and so little of it to spare that he couldn't have anyway). It's been a while since he's been able to see his ribs so distinctly, and his elbows are probably sharper than Sypha's right now.
But he's alive. He's alive and he's what he ought to be and he can touch both of them without it feeling profane and wrong and-
-and fuck it. The world can manage without him at his best for a few months. It managed for a decade and a half without a Belmont. ]
Mine was a short but eventful tenure.
[ He can maybe, maybe stand. It's lucky that their room is the easiest place in the world for any of them to focus on, because the chances of him making it as far as the bed before collapsing if he's more than a few steps away from it are very low indeed. But then, the floor isn't so bad. He could sleep there, on their own stupid floor, in their own home, as everything that he ought to be. ]
[Two words very rare from the vampire. Because he's certain that is the only reason that this has happened at all. Faith. Trevor's specifically, Trevor's belief in the church's power to deny Heaven because of the concept of excommunication. No addendum. No your God. Just that.
It's impossible to miss how worn that body is, being pressed so close to it. It wasn't as bad even yesterday, but the toll of being fully, properly human must be the explanation. Magic bullshit that no one has the desire to come to understand.
Sypha has her head buried in the top of Trevor's head now. Alucard can hear ever kiss she plants there. He doesn't have it in him to move with now, at least not for another few minutes. They can't linger, not really. But it'll have to be so. He'll have to stand up and undo all the castle defenses and they'll at least get Trevor home. Alucard can send everything through the mirror. Clean up the estate, take what they need, and then follow them all home on another wild arc of lightning. He'll collapse too after that, then where else shall they end but in their room, ice to the door, the only world that matters being the one that exists in that perfect room.]
[ His hands are unsteady. One finds its way, eventually, to Sypha. The other has a more difficult time, because the arm that had the needles in is just about useless right now. But after a few attempts it flops down in Alucard's hair, his fingers curling in and out of it. He can manage that much. ]
A little longer. You both only have to be strong for a little longer now.
[ It's not the most Trevor-like of things to say, and the soft and almost coaxing tone of it even more so, but this is a rare situation. He's safe. Alive. And he can manage to be The Strong One for a few minutes, at least. He owes them both that much. ]
You're both fucking miracle workers, and we can all rest soon.
[That unsteadiness is scary. But it is a sign too, a sign that this may very well be over and done. Alucard is not fully convinced. Won't be until the sun is down. But they can be home so very soon, and they will know.
(The house has no food. They'll need all of it for Trevor, for himself, for Sypha, because they have all barely looked after themselves.)
The softness goes unremarked upon. He is grateful for it.]
Mmm. It'll be too warm to use too many blankets when we're home.
[It is May now, there are no frosty mornings. Just cool ones, blossoming into beautiful spring air. Promise of summer on the wind.]
Speak for yourself. I'm going to pretend to be Sypha and make a cocoon.
[ He's- actually feeling cold. Not in a dangerous way (okay, a little in a dangerous way, because a lot of it really is down to the loss of mass and blood). But for the last eight days he has by this point in the evening been Actually Dead and incapable of feeling the cold. It's a strange thing to be running warm again, to be capable of being a little chilly. ]
I might even drag my old cloak into the bed while you're not there to stop me.
[ That one's- okay he means it, but it's still an empty threat, because how the fuck is he going to manage that when he's not going to be able to get out of the bed? ]
[Trevor could ask for anything right now and it would be granted. Alucard's still not moving, he's also now paying attention to Trevor's heartbeat in a more conventional way. Noting that he is running much too cold, and there's going to be a lot of dealing with blood loss too.
He can do that. Easiest thing in the world. The other two have had plenty of recoveries related to that, and the warm weather means greater bounties at the market. He can cajole the local pack to bring something to the doors (my pack is very unwell and I cannot hunt).]
It's in the chest at the end of the bed anyway. Not that far.
[ He's already given away where they hid (put away, he just never thought that it might have been put somewhere sensible) his cloak. In truth, he's probably not going to push it that much - they've already done so, so much for him, and he's already going to have to ask more so that he can recover in any sort of timely fashion.
But he likes to make empty threats. ]
Get me a cloth, if I get to make unreasonable fucking demands? I don't want to get blood on the bed that I actually care about.
[ He has already got blood on it. He has 100% got blood on it in the past. But there are little things like that that they have to care about and preserve anyway. Little lies, like 'there's never been blood on that bed', or 'there'll be a quieter time when they can be together', or 'they can stay with him forever'. ]
[Never, in truth. Because there is death and there is accepting it, and then there is a nine day living nightmare with shrieks, noises that should never be, too much blood consumed, and a host of horrors that they will have to speak of together to heal in full. But that is not for right now.
For right now, Alucard is able to extract himself from the space that he has claimed as his, and get the cloth. There's a pile over with the medical supplies, and he does one better. He goes outside and fetches a bucket so Sypha can make water from her ice.
The bed I actually care about.
The words don't hit Alucard properly until he's back down on the floor, waiting for Sypha to get the ice not only melted but to a nice, warm temperature that will feel far better on skin than well, ice water. And there's finally a real smile on that stupid face of Alucard's, because it's the kind of shit he always latches onto.]
[ It's good to see them smiling again. Really, really smiling. Sypha's good at the kind of smiles that have gritted teeth behind them, and there have been a lot of those lately. The real kind is much preferable.
(Perhaps he could have died and not cared. Or turned and not cared. But he'd have always cared very much about not seeing those warm, stupid smiles again.)
There's not too much blood to wash off. A lot around his throat (and he manages not to flinch as the cloth catches against burned skin, because he can see the worry in Sypha's face as it does). A little around the arm. And that's it. That's it. No places where he's manages to claw himself, or tear at his hair hard enough to pull away pieces of scalp. No tears of blood. No deer blood or Alucard blood. There's so very little, less than after some bar fights, and it's about the closest anything can get to feeling amazing right now. ]
Like it never fucking happened.
[ Okay that's a bit much. He's still about half the size he was a week and a half ago. Still with that patch of grey skin. Still in pretty fucking horrible shape. All of them still exhausted physically and mentally and emotionally. But he's content to just pretend all of that isn't true, just to give the whole thing no power at all over them. They wrote Carmilla out of existence, no matter how deep the damage she left was. They can do the same with this. ]
[There's practically nothing in the bucket. Nothing after the water seemed to turn red every other time. It is so wild to witness that, as wild as any of the other transformations that have happened. And the satisfaction of the Belmont is not covered in blood, Alucard moves everything away and gestures to Sypha. Trevor's not walking. Not right now.]
You'd have to look hard for evidence, at least.
[This very much has happened. They're all defined by their scars, the physical and otherwise. Alucard sees the patch of grey as he lifts Trevor into his arms, and that patch means that one day, when so much more time has passed, they will play that old game and put all of this to rest once and for all.
He stands. Trevor's much too light. There's less of him, which would be an upsetting thought on any day but today. There's less of him, but he is more whole than he has been for over a week.]
Sypha, can you operate the mirror and then take him? I have to undo most of the defenses remotely.
[ The worst of the pain is starting to fade now, and it's pleasant to know that it won't be returning again at midnight. It's pleasant to know a lot of things. That he can sleep in the same bed as the two of them again is the one he's focusing on right now, because sleeping sounds just wonderful. It's going to be his activity of choice for the next week at least. And he absolutely intends to abuse his 'I almost died' privileges to force the both of them to join him.
He sinks against Alucard, and he feels very small right now, but it's not too much of a problem. This is okay. Everything is okay. Sypha's at the mirror now, and they're all going to be home, and by the time he wakes they'll be together again where they belong. ]
Alucard.
[ His voice is quiet, and it sounds like he's about to continue but doesn't, which is generally a sure sign that he's going to ask for something. ]
[He's not sure where this will go. All Alucard knows right now is that there is too light a weight in his arms and that he hates it, but he hates it least out of literally everything that has been forced upon them last week.
There's things to pack. He has to put Trevor down in a moment or two, because Home will freak out at them if Alucard doesn't drop all the protections of it first. (He has to get the doors to response to Sypha and Trevor. It's been on the to do list for a while, admittedly.)]
Good medical practice. My mother would yell at me otherwise.
[They're at the mirror now. Sypha has it looking outside at the castle, the castle that's hidden as just a group of trees right now. Alucard needs both hands to undo everything, and so that means for the time being, Trevor must be on the ground.
As he's lowered, Alucard presses an all too tender kiss to Trevor's forehead.]
[Alucard begins to dismiss everything that has cloaked the castle and kept it safe. It knows him even from this terrible distance. It warms to all those commands, because them being given is a sign of homecoming. Life again.
As Alucard does so, something strikes him. And there's a terrible laugh for it.]
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cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
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...and Sypha tugs on him. Demands more intent for the stone, demands it from both, because it has already begun to dwindle and it needs more, more, more to work. Alucard hisses because he's too caught up in that terrible fear of Trevor just bleeding out in spite of all of this, and Sypha has to physically move Alucard's hands where they need it to be.
There is a wild shred of hope. That shred has been in Alucard's grasp twice before in this process, and he clings to it as fiercely as he can. Puts every last bit of intent that he can into the stone he has in his hands (is in Sypha's hands, is in Trevor's because she's brought his hands back up too, even the one with the needles in it).
Get out. Get out of those veins. We are not our fathers. Get out. It is the will of no God that he be whole and human but ours. We who destroyed Dracula himself. We who have written Carmilla from the pages of history. We who do the things no others can because we have the strength to do it. This destroys that. This destroys the world. This is apocalypse in waiting and I shall not allow it. This is my intent, this is my will, all of this is my world and nothing may destroy it again.]
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And it must be visible to Sypha, too, because she leaves the stone and the tube in Alucard's hands and moves hers to his neck, trailing fingers across the join between human and vampire skin to burn the seam shut. Distantly, he can smell burning flesh, but he can barely feel it. Everything else hurts too much, the burning is just more and it fades into the rest of it. That little bit of something terrible, that he'll have to keep. It would never heal as a human. But- it's discolored skin. Nothing worse. He'll live with it.
Sypha's arms are around his neck and shoulders now, pulling him tightly against her. And he's tired. So, so tired. But they have three hours. Three hours to send him through the mirror. Home, probably, but really to anywhere that isn't this estate. Because fuck, this cannot be reset.
...They can take a moment to celebrate, though. ]
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He gets to his feet, stone left on the floor for a moment. Goes over to the box of medical tools they've stashed in the corner in case ther was a need, and with that he takes out bandages. Bandages because the injection site will not heal automatically.
(It won't heal automatically!)
It's so easy to focus on the requirements for removing the transfusion equipment. Needles out. Bandages applied with all the right pressure. Equipment moved far away in case there is any horrible lingering vampire blood that can undo all of this.
He's whole. He's human. He looks like absolute shit. (There is a joke about how Trevor always looks like shit. Or maybe the Vampire Jesus joke is better. No. That comes after a few days of quiet.) He's Trevor again, in all the ways that matter most. And for that there's a thin, nervous laugh that betrays total bewilderment at this success, before Alucard buries his head on Trevor's chest and settles besides his heartbeat.
They have to make sure this doesn't reset. Alucard's not actually sure Trevor can stand easily, never mind go through a barrier. Or a magic mirror. But it has to be done, and then the two of them can order the Belmont to rest and pack up the estate. There's too much equipment scattered around, they have to deal with the horse too, and and and
and Trevor is human so everything else is lighteness.
And because he can. Because it'd be wrong not to, there's a softer laugh from Alucard, pressed against that very same heart.]
I'm back to being the worst vampire in Europe.
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But he's alive. He's alive and he's what he ought to be and he can touch both of them without it feeling profane and wrong and-
-and fuck it. The world can manage without him at his best for a few months. It managed for a decade and a half without a Belmont. ]
Mine was a short but eventful tenure.
[ He can maybe, maybe stand. It's lucky that their room is the easiest place in the world for any of them to focus on, because the chances of him making it as far as the bed before collapsing if he's more than a few steps away from it are very low indeed. But then, the floor isn't so bad. He could sleep there, on their own stupid floor, in their own home, as everything that he ought to be. ]
I'll let you keep your title from now on.
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[Two words very rare from the vampire. Because he's certain that is the only reason that this has happened at all. Faith. Trevor's specifically, Trevor's belief in the church's power to deny Heaven because of the concept of excommunication. No addendum. No your God. Just that.
It's impossible to miss how worn that body is, being pressed so close to it. It wasn't as bad even yesterday, but the toll of being fully, properly human must be the explanation. Magic bullshit that no one has the desire to come to understand.
Sypha has her head buried in the top of Trevor's head now. Alucard can hear ever kiss she plants there. He doesn't have it in him to move with now, at least not for another few minutes. They can't linger, not really. But it'll have to be so. He'll have to stand up and undo all the castle defenses and they'll at least get Trevor home. Alucard can send everything through the mirror. Clean up the estate, take what they need, and then follow them all home on another wild arc of lightning. He'll collapse too after that, then where else shall they end but in their room, ice to the door, the only world that matters being the one that exists in that perfect room.]
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A little longer. You both only have to be strong for a little longer now.
[ It's not the most Trevor-like of things to say, and the soft and almost coaxing tone of it even more so, but this is a rare situation. He's safe. Alive. And he can manage to be The Strong One for a few minutes, at least. He owes them both that much. ]
You're both fucking miracle workers, and we can all rest soon.
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(The house has no food. They'll need all of it for Trevor, for himself, for Sypha, because they have all barely looked after themselves.)
The softness goes unremarked upon. He is grateful for it.]
Mmm. It'll be too warm to use too many blankets when we're home.
[It is May now, there are no frosty mornings. Just cool ones, blossoming into beautiful spring air. Promise of summer on the wind.]
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[ He's- actually feeling cold. Not in a dangerous way (okay, a little in a dangerous way, because a lot of it really is down to the loss of mass and blood). But for the last eight days he has by this point in the evening been Actually Dead and incapable of feeling the cold. It's a strange thing to be running warm again, to be capable of being a little chilly. ]
I might even drag my old cloak into the bed while you're not there to stop me.
[ That one's- okay he means it, but it's still an empty threat, because how the fuck is he going to manage that when he's not going to be able to get out of the bed? ]
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[Trevor could ask for anything right now and it would be granted. Alucard's still not moving, he's also now paying attention to Trevor's heartbeat in a more conventional way. Noting that he is running much too cold, and there's going to be a lot of dealing with blood loss too.
He can do that. Easiest thing in the world. The other two have had plenty of recoveries related to that, and the warm weather means greater bounties at the market. He can cajole the local pack to bring something to the doors (my pack is very unwell and I cannot hunt).]
It's in the chest at the end of the bed anyway. Not that far.
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[ He's already given away where they hid (put away, he just never thought that it might have been put somewhere sensible) his cloak. In truth, he's probably not going to push it that much - they've already done so, so much for him, and he's already going to have to ask more so that he can recover in any sort of timely fashion.
But he likes to make empty threats. ]
Get me a cloth, if I get to make unreasonable fucking demands? I don't want to get blood on the bed that I actually care about.
[ He has already got blood on it. He has 100% got blood on it in the past. But there are little things like that that they have to care about and preserve anyway. Little lies, like 'there's never been blood on that bed', or 'there'll be a quieter time when they can be together', or 'they can stay with him forever'. ]
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[Never, in truth. Because there is death and there is accepting it, and then there is a nine day living nightmare with shrieks, noises that should never be, too much blood consumed, and a host of horrors that they will have to speak of together to heal in full. But that is not for right now.
For right now, Alucard is able to extract himself from the space that he has claimed as his, and get the cloth. There's a pile over with the medical supplies, and he does one better. He goes outside and fetches a bucket so Sypha can make water from her ice.
The bed I actually care about.
The words don't hit Alucard properly until he's back down on the floor, waiting for Sypha to get the ice not only melted but to a nice, warm temperature that will feel far better on skin than well, ice water. And there's finally a real smile on that stupid face of Alucard's, because it's the kind of shit he always latches onto.]
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(Perhaps he could have died and not cared. Or turned and not cared. But he'd have always cared very much about not seeing those warm, stupid smiles again.)
There's not too much blood to wash off. A lot around his throat (and he manages not to flinch as the cloth catches against burned skin, because he can see the worry in Sypha's face as it does). A little around the arm. And that's it. That's it. No places where he's manages to claw himself, or tear at his hair hard enough to pull away pieces of scalp. No tears of blood. No deer blood or Alucard blood. There's so very little, less than after some bar fights, and it's about the closest anything can get to feeling amazing right now. ]
Like it never fucking happened.
[ Okay that's a bit much. He's still about half the size he was a week and a half ago. Still with that patch of grey skin. Still in pretty fucking horrible shape. All of them still exhausted physically and mentally and emotionally. But he's content to just pretend all of that isn't true, just to give the whole thing no power at all over them. They wrote Carmilla out of existence, no matter how deep the damage she left was. They can do the same with this. ]
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You'd have to look hard for evidence, at least.
[This very much has happened. They're all defined by their scars, the physical and otherwise. Alucard sees the patch of grey as he lifts Trevor into his arms, and that patch means that one day, when so much more time has passed, they will play that old game and put all of this to rest once and for all.
He stands. Trevor's much too light. There's less of him, which would be an upsetting thought on any day but today. There's less of him, but he is more whole than he has been for over a week.]
Sypha, can you operate the mirror and then take him? I have to undo most of the defenses remotely.
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He sinks against Alucard, and he feels very small right now, but it's not too much of a problem. This is okay. Everything is okay. Sypha's at the mirror now, and they're all going to be home, and by the time he wakes they'll be together again where they belong. ]
Alucard.
[ His voice is quiet, and it sounds like he's about to continue but doesn't, which is generally a sure sign that he's going to ask for something. ]
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[He's not sure where this will go. All Alucard knows right now is that there is too light a weight in his arms and that he hates it, but he hates it least out of literally everything that has been forced upon them last week.
There's things to pack. He has to put Trevor down in a moment or two, because Home will freak out at them if Alucard doesn't drop all the protections of it first. (He has to get the doors to response to Sypha and Trevor. It's been on the to do list for a while, admittedly.)]
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[ That's the closest he's going to get in a long time to admitting that the dregs of the fear are still very much there. ]
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[He isn't.]
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[ It's fond, and he's not smiling, but there's a normalcy to that insult that they've not had for a little while. ]
Humor me. Would it wake you?
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[They're at the mirror now. Sypha has it looking outside at the castle, the castle that's hidden as just a group of trees right now. Alucard needs both hands to undo everything, and so that means for the time being, Trevor must be on the ground.
As he's lowered, Alucard presses an all too tender kiss to Trevor's forehead.]
It would. In an instant.
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Because I'm that fucking tired. I think I could.
[ And with that, he just watches as Alucard dispels all of the many, many magics that protect the castle. Home. They'll all be home so soon. ]
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[Alucard begins to dismiss everything that has cloaked the castle and kept it safe. It knows him even from this terrible distance. It warms to all those commands, because them being given is a sign of homecoming. Life again.
As Alucard does so, something strikes him. And there's a terrible laugh for it.]
Nine days. Third multiple of three.
[It's fucking ridiculous.]
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[ Bible Facts with Trevor Belmont. ]
Which sounds poetic as fuck, except it doesn't fit at all.
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[Okay this sounds stupid, and that means everything needs to come to a TOTAL PAUSE.]
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[ Wow rude Alucard you were the one who made this into weird superstitious magic bullshit. ]
Only fucking thing I know about things that take nine days.
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[He just sighs. And Sypha laughs because if there is any greater sign of things being normal again, then here they are.]
We'll have this discussion later.
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