[ Before long at all, really. The wolves offered them so much help in the summer, it's only right that Alucard keep watch of them to make sure they survive over the winter. ]
-think you could help me with something? While we're here.
[ 'While we're here' he says, as if he hasn't been waiting here for Alucard to find him. ]
I...will have to make it clear that you're both fully human though. [Alucard focuses on the window, not Trevor.] I have been less than clear on that for a while.
[They think you're wolves, Treffy.
Anything to change the topic.]
Mmm. I had been wondering why you gravitated here, besides watching Sypha. What is it that you need?
[Alucard walks over to the mirror though, fixes his focus on it. Flanders. He can begin there, begin with Tielt. It must have a market, so...so he begins there. Carefully.]
[ He stares through the mirror as if that instruction would have been enough by sheer luck. It's not. Just a marketplace in the late afternoon, people starting to put away goods. ]
Ileana Felea. Probably. [ She might have had to change her name. But it should work, shouldn't it, if that had been the name he'd known her by? ]
[Alucard hums, thoughtful. It's easiest when you know the location. Not guessing like this. So what he does next is simply let the mirror take them through the city, his eyes focused on the names of shops for the time being.]
[ He can barely picture her in his mind, in truth. It's been a long time. A lot of ale. They never really spent that much time together to begin with, because three sisters was, as a twelve year old boy, quite enough girls to be having in ones life and because she liked those three sisters better than she liked him. ]
About to her shoulders. Curled. Brown eyes. Pale. Liked to read plays and to force people to act them out with her.
[ He hopes it's enough but- shit, he has no idea how much of that's even still true. And he's describing a 14 year old to look for a 34 year old. ]
[Alucard reaches over so he has Trevor's shoulder in hand. It'll be easier to use his words and thoughts to guide this, Alucard as nothing more than the conduit. He focuses, trying to let the mental images Trevor has in his head guide the work.
The city rushes by. There's a ward for those with money who make the city their home during certain months.]
She was a little older than me when I last saw her.
[ ...pause. Because sometimes Trevor says stupid things. The city continues to move by quickly, until it isn't moving by quickly anymore. It's a residential area used by local craftspeople, well enough off but not particularly rich. It passes through a wall.
And there's a woman there, pale with short, dark curls, sat at a work table and sewing what looks to be the sleeve of a shirt or dress. She seems- perfectly normal in every way, really. And Trevor stares, because he's never seen an actual living person from before the burning before. ]
...Which presumably means she'd still be a little older than me.
[Alucard's gentle when he says it though. He's taken a guess at who this person might be, but why Trevor has decided to wonder about her fate now is beyond him. There's nothing but quiet from him instead, and steps back, hand brushing over Trevor's shoulder.
There's a door. There's a young boy who comes running in, and he calls her mother.]
[ It's a little bittersweet. He didn't expect it to be- he's happy here, more happy than he could ever think possible. But it's still- something. It's something, to see paths that have been closed off, even if they would have never led you to where you wanted to be.
(She would have been a Belmont. Her name would have struck fear into any creature of the night who heard it. She would have been matriarch of an ancient family, eventually. But who can say if she would have been happy?
She's a seamstress. And the way she pulls that boy into her lap, scolds him gently for picking up the needles-
She's happy as a seamstress. ]
That's all I needed to know. I shouldn't pry any more.
[ He doesn't quite want to stop watching, but this feels too intimate all of a sudden. It's not meant for him.
(The boy would have been- one, maybe two when Dracula's hordes came into the land. And perhaps they would not have got so far as Flanders, but there's nobody now who can say if he intended to stop at Wallachia. Her son could have died, and he wouldn't have cared.) ]
[Alucard's eyes are on the window. Considering Sypha, the greenhouse, the forest, everything about home. It doesn't take a heavy thinker to know that Trevor's contemplating the roads not traveled at this very moment, but he hasn't asked Alucard to leave or give him space either. So he stays.
The scene in the mirror plays out, and it's a simple one. Domestic as anything the three of them engage in, although more ordinary for where it is rather than the castle. Alucard sneaks only one glance, and his mind returns to the discussion he and Trevor had some time ago. The one about children.
Mm. Not his business to bring up.]
...So long as you have your answers.
[It takes only a wave of Alucard's hand to dismiss the image, for the mirror to show the world outside. Alucard likes having it focused on the outdoors when he's in the study. Makes the air less oppressive.
[ Not a lot productive, anyway. This is everything he wanted. The worst would have been that she'd died, and that he'd never learn if it was because of a connection to him and his family. And if she were alive and still waiting for him- family promises are family promises. That she's alive, that she's alive and living a life of her own and happy, is the best possible option.
He's happy, he thinks. He's probably happy. He needs a few more minutes to be certain. ]
Figure out how the fuck it would even work, and then ask me again. Once you're ready.
[ Or maybe he'll ask Alucard and Sypha. Depends who figures out first how this shit even works with three people, one of whom is a vampire. He doesn't specify what he's talking about. ]
[Oh Trevor, like the vampire hasn't been thinking about this for years.
Alucard doesn't let the warmth that's sudden eating him up inside out. Not yet. But it's there, and oh. Oh he has things to do now.]
I could use a hand in the kitchen, you know. Too many apples to peel.
[It's quiet work. Not in the study. And it's a prelude to totally busting Sypha.
Which they do eventually, and is so, so so worth it. And then the late autumn becomes winter, and there are snow flurries that dust the world around them. The world is at rest, dormant, waiting for the spring to arrive again.
There are things Alucard must wait for too. Not for spring sun to warm the garden, but for others to do work he has requested, and for the news to reach him that it is done. There are a few days he spends away from the castle, and then there are days he spends in the library, quietly doing...something. He's thinking too much, and that means he's planning something.
Something that's no more obvious than just leaving two things wrapped up in a thick dark cloth in the Hold. For a long time now, Alucard has put a worktable next to the lectern, making it easier to queue up new additions for the Hold. He's down there now, working, and has asked Trevor to come by at some point. Silver issue, he needs a hand.
(Sypha got her gifts yesterday. She's waiting for this as much as he is.)]
[ He's found a new task by now, and there's a bizarre irony to it. Alucard's haunt has been the Belmont hold for so long, and he's done such a wonderful job of its care.
And Trevor? Trevor Belmont, House of Belmont, Last Son of Belmont, is reclaiming the castle room by room.
Most of it, he's doing with Alucard's guidance. Both for respect and for safety's sake. The parts of the castle outside of their little space aren't his to just do as he pleases with, even if 'as he pleases' is simply clearing out things left from Carmilla's time here and simply sealed away because it was too much to deal with. Even if they were, he has to at least tell the other two where he's working, because the place is still full of death traps.
(The feeding cells, those he dealt with while Alucard was absent for a few days with the wolves. He unbricked them, he stripped out all the bars and chains and hooks, scrubbed the filthy stone clean- and then decided there was nothing good that could be made of it still and bricked it up again. As far as Alucard is aware, assuming that Sypha did actually keep it a secret - he'd needed her help to melt the metal down, and he's not yet figured out what to do with it - he spent the time doing absolutely nothing.)
It's slow work. At this rate, considering the amount of work the garden is going to take come spring and summer, it's probably going to take another full year before all the terrible remnants of Dracula and Carmilla's worst deeds has been cleared away. But it'll happen eventually. For today, though, there is other work.
Or there would be, if Alucard were here.
Unfortunately, Trevor does not share Sypha's natural curiosity. If something's wrapped up in the hold, that means it's either sensitive to light, very delicate, or dangerous to touch or look upon. And so he doesn't even check the contents of the cloth. He just goes to try to figure out where Alucard's got to so he can help with this silver shit. ]
[At first, Alucard hadn't known what to make of Trevor's conquest of the castle. Which was the best way to think of it really, because Trevor was a Belmont and for the castle to truly be home, then every part of it really ought to have his touch. Even the parts that are painful. Or ridiculous, the entire room dedicated to the pipe organ is both so far as he understands it.
(He does not know about the feeding cells. Sypha's taken that secret seriously, and Alucard lives in total ignorance.)
Beyond taking care of dust that has build up, it puts all remaining ghosts to rest. Alucard's happy to have that done, happier that it was Trevor's idea because the thought would never even occur to him. It will also last all winter, curing the issue of Trevor needing something to do that isn't traveling.
In the Hold, Alucard has one of the locked cabinets opened, paper on his lap. He has discovered that on the shelf under the lectern are smaller inventory lists of different object types, and the bound lists are actually made for this exact purpose: confirming something's location. He's moved onto taxidermied and skeletal remains (excluding vampire skulls) lately, and a few of the mounts are stuffed with silver in addition to the more normal things.
Luckily the cabinet is about ten feet from the lectern, which means the vampire is obvious.]
[ He spots Alucard quickly, lifting a hand in acknowledgement of his presence before approaching.
(He doesn't seem to have noticed him. He seems completely absorbed by his work. But there's something off about it, because every single Belmont instinct honed by training and generations and generations of encounters with monsters is screaming at him that he's being watched.)
He looks over Alucard's illustrated list of little dead things before he speaks, mostly to appreciate how ridiculous it is that he looks so out of place reading it. Here he is, a fucking vampire but also a student of the sciences, and he looks too bright and alive to be dealing with these bones and preserved organs and stuffed bodies of night creatures. ]
I did. I was able to move enough of it onto a spare blanket I found. You'll find it on the table next to the lectern.
[Alucard barely looks up. It was easier with Sypha, when he was in another room entirely. This is much harder, because there are two parts of this. One is all joy, the other is a more somber thing.
The bundle is a darker shade of Trevor's old cloak, and the fabric is far finer than that cloak ever was. Fur pokes out of certain bits that have been folded on itself, and the shape of the whole thing is strangely oblong, never mind lumpy.]
[ It's- odd, that Alucard wouldn't tell him where it needs to be moved to. Odd, but not unprecedented. Sometimes he genuinely doesn't know, because the Belmonts didn't always do an amazing job of making these things clear, and Trevor has to look at things and give his best guess at what it's meant to be and where it's meant to go. So he goes to look, half wondering what on earth his family has gone and left for them this time. ]
This is a spare? [ He sounds half amused by that, because- look, he's not en expert on fancy fabrics, but he can tell something that's well made and warm and strong and made to last for a long time when he sees it. ] Shit, it's nice for something that was just lying around.
[ And he unwraps it carefully, because carefully is how shit here needs to be handled. ]
That's what I thought. Some ancestor must have had similar tastes in traveling clothes. All your family's wards prevented moths from getting to it, I suppose.
[Hell no. Because just unfolding the fabric itself makes it clear that it isn't a cloak, it's a blanket. An overly large one, with fur at all the edges, the size making it so very clear that there is only one bed that the blanket can fit on.
There's another lump covered in the same fabric underneath, but that isn't the most obvious or interesting part of what has been kept in the blanket. There is a sword. Pointed, the hilt understated in how it has been decorated. On the blade itself there are precious little flourishes. A practical sword, even if the discussion of late has been of staying home.
The smaller bundle, when unfolded, reveals itself to be a newer version of Trevor's old cloak in full. Fabric? A bit finer but not overly so, the fur perhaps the most expensive part of it all. Hidden by the bundle is a new set of smaller knives with sheathes for each. (A look inside those sheathes will reveal a tiny Belmont crest.) A new belt to replace the old one, new pouches, all with the same hidden crest on the inside. There is also a seperate leather satchel, the size suggesting it might be Vampire Killer's new home when it is not used. (And that case? That case does have silver lined within.)]
[ It's not the most dramatic reaction. And nothing about Trevor's reaction is dramatic, really. It's slow, considered, picking things up and turning them over and inspecting them in a way that is probably generally considered to be impolite to do with gifts.
They're not from the hold. He can tell that by the leather of the sheathes and satchel. It's not used but exceedingly well-maintained, the way things here tend to be, it's new. Which makes no sense, because it takes a while for the idea of it being a gift to actually occur to Trevor.
Until it does. And his face reddens a few shades and his fingers coil into the fur of the cloak for something to hold onto and- ]
-so if this is meant to be a subtle message that you're sick of me and you want me to get back onto the road... [ His tone is lighter than the words, warm and teasing. ]
You said to wait until I figured it out, then ask.
[Alucard wants to look up. He wants to look up so bad, but he's just staring at a dead stuffed animal instead, trying to clamp down on the sense of anticipation. It gets worse when Trevoer speaks, because Trevor is bad at emotion and Alucard wants him to have all the space he needs.]
Would you prefer a more dramatic approach instead?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
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[And he's laughing too, because really, this is the perfect plan. Totally unexpected. Beautiful.]
I'd invite you along, if it wouldn't give away the plan. They do want to meet you both.
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[ Before long at all, really. The wolves offered them so much help in the summer, it's only right that Alucard keep watch of them to make sure they survive over the winter. ]
-think you could help me with something? While we're here.
[ 'While we're here' he says, as if he hasn't been waiting here for Alucard to find him. ]
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[They think you're wolves, Treffy.
Anything to change the topic.]
Mmm. I had been wondering why you gravitated here, besides watching Sypha. What is it that you need?
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[ No, actually, this is a great topic and he's like to procrastinate on this conversation some more. ]
I want to use the mirror to find someone. But. Me, magic, not friends.
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[The frost is thick in the mornings. Winter will be heavy, that much is clear.]
Of course. Do you know the location to seek out?
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[ Because moving between countries is a pain to do when you're restricted to human methods. ]
It's been a while.
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[Alucard walks over to the mirror though, fixes his focus on it. Flanders. He can begin there, begin with Tielt. It must have a market, so...so he begins there. Carefully.]
Who are we looking for?
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[ He stares through the mirror as if that instruction would have been enough by sheer luck. It's not. Just a marketplace in the late afternoon, people starting to put away goods. ]
Ileana Felea. Probably. [ She might have had to change her name. But it should work, shouldn't it, if that had been the name he'd known her by? ]
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Describe her.
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[ He can barely picture her in his mind, in truth. It's been a long time. A lot of ale. They never really spent that much time together to begin with, because three sisters was, as a twelve year old boy, quite enough girls to be having in ones life and because she liked those three sisters better than she liked him. ]
About to her shoulders. Curled. Brown eyes. Pale. Liked to read plays and to force people to act them out with her.
[ He hopes it's enough but- shit, he has no idea how much of that's even still true. And he's describing a 14 year old to look for a 34 year old. ]
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The city rushes by. There's a ward for those with money who make the city their home during certain months.]
Nearly there, I think.
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[ ...pause. Because sometimes Trevor says stupid things. The city continues to move by quickly, until it isn't moving by quickly anymore. It's a residential area used by local craftspeople, well enough off but not particularly rich. It passes through a wall.
And there's a woman there, pale with short, dark curls, sat at a work table and sewing what looks to be the sleeve of a shirt or dress. She seems- perfectly normal in every way, really. And Trevor stares, because he's never seen an actual living person from before the burning before. ]
...Which presumably means she'd still be a little older than me.
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[Alucard's gentle when he says it though. He's taken a guess at who this person might be, but why Trevor has decided to wonder about her fate now is beyond him. There's nothing but quiet from him instead, and steps back, hand brushing over Trevor's shoulder.
There's a door. There's a young boy who comes running in, and he calls her mother.]
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(She would have been a Belmont. Her name would have struck fear into any creature of the night who heard it. She would have been matriarch of an ancient family, eventually. But who can say if she would have been happy?
She's a seamstress. And the way she pulls that boy into her lap, scolds him gently for picking up the needles-
She's happy as a seamstress. ]
That's all I needed to know. I shouldn't pry any more.
[ He doesn't quite want to stop watching, but this feels too intimate all of a sudden. It's not meant for him.
(The boy would have been- one, maybe two when Dracula's hordes came into the land. And perhaps they would not have got so far as Flanders, but there's nobody now who can say if he intended to stop at Wallachia. Her son could have died, and he wouldn't have cared.) ]
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The scene in the mirror plays out, and it's a simple one. Domestic as anything the three of them engage in, although more ordinary for where it is rather than the castle. Alucard sneaks only one glance, and his mind returns to the discussion he and Trevor had some time ago. The one about children.
Mm. Not his business to bring up.]
...So long as you have your answers.
[It takes only a wave of Alucard's hand to dismiss the image, for the mirror to show the world outside. Alucard likes having it focused on the outdoors when he's in the study. Makes the air less oppressive.
He squeezes Trevor's shoulder gently.]
Your turn to be the heavy thinker?
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[ Not a lot productive, anyway. This is everything he wanted. The worst would have been that she'd died, and that he'd never learn if it was because of a connection to him and his family. And if she were alive and still waiting for him- family promises are family promises. That she's alive, that she's alive and living a life of her own and happy, is the best possible option.
He's happy, he thinks. He's probably happy. He needs a few more minutes to be certain. ]
Figure out how the fuck it would even work, and then ask me again. Once you're ready.
[ Or maybe he'll ask Alucard and Sypha. Depends who figures out first how this shit even works with three people, one of whom is a vampire. He doesn't specify what he's talking about. ]
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Alucard doesn't let the warmth that's sudden eating him up inside out. Not yet. But it's there, and oh. Oh he has things to do now.]
I could use a hand in the kitchen, you know. Too many apples to peel.
[It's quiet work. Not in the study. And it's a prelude to totally busting Sypha.
Which they do eventually, and is so, so so worth it. And then the late autumn becomes winter, and there are snow flurries that dust the world around them. The world is at rest, dormant, waiting for the spring to arrive again.
There are things Alucard must wait for too. Not for spring sun to warm the garden, but for others to do work he has requested, and for the news to reach him that it is done. There are a few days he spends away from the castle, and then there are days he spends in the library, quietly doing...something. He's thinking too much, and that means he's planning something.
Something that's no more obvious than just leaving two things wrapped up in a thick dark cloth in the Hold. For a long time now, Alucard has put a worktable next to the lectern, making it easier to queue up new additions for the Hold. He's down there now, working, and has asked Trevor to come by at some point. Silver issue, he needs a hand.
(Sypha got her gifts yesterday. She's waiting for this as much as he is.)]
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And Trevor? Trevor Belmont, House of Belmont, Last Son of Belmont, is reclaiming the castle room by room.
Most of it, he's doing with Alucard's guidance. Both for respect and for safety's sake. The parts of the castle outside of their little space aren't his to just do as he pleases with, even if 'as he pleases' is simply clearing out things left from Carmilla's time here and simply sealed away because it was too much to deal with. Even if they were, he has to at least tell the other two where he's working, because the place is still full of death traps.
(The feeding cells, those he dealt with while Alucard was absent for a few days with the wolves. He unbricked them, he stripped out all the bars and chains and hooks, scrubbed the filthy stone clean- and then decided there was nothing good that could be made of it still and bricked it up again. As far as Alucard is aware, assuming that Sypha did actually keep it a secret - he'd needed her help to melt the metal down, and he's not yet figured out what to do with it - he spent the time doing absolutely nothing.)
It's slow work. At this rate, considering the amount of work the garden is going to take come spring and summer, it's probably going to take another full year before all the terrible remnants of Dracula and Carmilla's worst deeds has been cleared away. But it'll happen eventually. For today, though, there is other work.
Or there would be, if Alucard were here.
Unfortunately, Trevor does not share Sypha's natural curiosity. If something's wrapped up in the hold, that means it's either sensitive to light, very delicate, or dangerous to touch or look upon. And so he doesn't even check the contents of the cloth. He just goes to try to figure out where Alucard's got to so he can help with this silver shit. ]
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(He does not know about the feeding cells. Sypha's taken that secret seriously, and Alucard lives in total ignorance.)
Beyond taking care of dust that has build up, it puts all remaining ghosts to rest. Alucard's happy to have that done, happier that it was Trevor's idea because the thought would never even occur to him. It will also last all winter, curing the issue of Trevor needing something to do that isn't traveling.
In the Hold, Alucard has one of the locked cabinets opened, paper on his lap. He has discovered that on the shelf under the lectern are smaller inventory lists of different object types, and the bound lists are actually made for this exact purpose: confirming something's location. He's moved onto taxidermied and skeletal remains (excluding vampire skulls) lately, and a few of the mounts are stuffed with silver in addition to the more normal things.
Luckily the cabinet is about ten feet from the lectern, which means the vampire is obvious.]
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(He doesn't seem to have noticed him. He seems completely absorbed by his work. But there's something off about it, because every single Belmont instinct honed by training and generations and generations of encounters with monsters is screaming at him that he's being watched.)
He looks over Alucard's illustrated list of little dead things before he speaks, mostly to appreciate how ridiculous it is that he looks so out of place reading it. Here he is, a fucking vampire but also a student of the sciences, and he looks too bright and alive to be dealing with these bones and preserved organs and stuffed bodies of night creatures. ]
You had silver?
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[Alucard barely looks up. It was easier with Sypha, when he was in another room entirely. This is much harder, because there are two parts of this. One is all joy, the other is a more somber thing.
The bundle is a darker shade of Trevor's old cloak, and the fabric is far finer than that cloak ever was. Fur pokes out of certain bits that have been folded on itself, and the shape of the whole thing is strangely oblong, never mind lumpy.]
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This is a spare? [ He sounds half amused by that, because- look, he's not en expert on fancy fabrics, but he can tell something that's well made and warm and strong and made to last for a long time when he sees it. ] Shit, it's nice for something that was just lying around.
[ And he unwraps it carefully, because carefully is how shit here needs to be handled. ]
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[Hell no. Because just unfolding the fabric itself makes it clear that it isn't a cloak, it's a blanket. An overly large one, with fur at all the edges, the size making it so very clear that there is only one bed that the blanket can fit on.
There's another lump covered in the same fabric underneath, but that isn't the most obvious or interesting part of what has been kept in the blanket. There is a sword. Pointed, the hilt understated in how it has been decorated. On the blade itself there are precious little flourishes. A practical sword, even if the discussion of late has been of staying home.
The smaller bundle, when unfolded, reveals itself to be a newer version of Trevor's old cloak in full. Fabric? A bit finer but not overly so, the fur perhaps the most expensive part of it all. Hidden by the bundle is a new set of smaller knives with sheathes for each. (A look inside those sheathes will reveal a tiny Belmont crest.) A new belt to replace the old one, new pouches, all with the same hidden crest on the inside. There is also a seperate leather satchel, the size suggesting it might be Vampire Killer's new home when it is not used. (And that case? That case does have silver lined within.)]
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[ It's not the most dramatic reaction. And nothing about Trevor's reaction is dramatic, really. It's slow, considered, picking things up and turning them over and inspecting them in a way that is probably generally considered to be impolite to do with gifts.
They're not from the hold. He can tell that by the leather of the sheathes and satchel. It's not used but exceedingly well-maintained, the way things here tend to be, it's new. Which makes no sense, because it takes a while for the idea of it being a gift to actually occur to Trevor.
Until it does. And his face reddens a few shades and his fingers coil into the fur of the cloak for something to hold onto and- ]
-so if this is meant to be a subtle message that you're sick of me and you want me to get back onto the road... [ His tone is lighter than the words, warm and teasing. ]
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[Alucard wants to look up. He wants to look up so bad, but he's just staring at a dead stuffed animal instead, trying to clamp down on the sense of anticipation. It gets worse when Trevoer speaks, because Trevor is bad at emotion and Alucard wants him to have all the space he needs.]
Would you prefer a more dramatic approach instead?
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