[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?
He looks back at the- at all of it. It has a different meaning to it now. He'd caught on that it was a gift, but that it's a proposal? That adds meaning. And it changes meaning. Because this is travelling gear. This is- an understanding, that even this can't keep the world from needing them. That even if the three of them become one in the eyes of- whatever it is that looks over vampire marriages he doesn't even fucking know- then they'll still have to be separated.
This is Alucard being protective, still. An understanding that they can't always be at each other's sides, no matter what vows they make. The means by which, in separation, he can keep himself and Sypha safe until they meet again. The cloak is thick enough to turn away the cold, yes, but also to turn away claws of near any normal beast, and of most night creatures and even some vampires, when Alucard cannot turn them away himself. The sword and knives are- well, that goes without saying. ]
...This is the not-dramatic approach?
[ Is what he manages to say, but there's no hiding that soft, slightly rough texture to his voice. ]
[He gives up. Alucard can't not watch anymore. He puts the inventory down on the shelf he was inspecting, and crosses the little bit of space that remains between them so he can stand beside Trevor properly.
There's no hiding Alucard's face. It's smiling, a touch of nerves threaded in there. Trevor could still decline, and it'd be within his right to do so. (Sypha's response would make it harder though.) His hands find a place to rest in the larger blanket that is now underneath everything.]
I'm unsure how the title of princeling works when extended to rogues who become equals, you know. Couldn't find any helpful books.
I think it means I still have to try to bluff my way into the royal wedding. Rogues never get invited to those things.
[ Trevor's response is understated. Soft. He's not good with this shit. Never has been. But- fuck. This is overwhelming, but exactly on the right side of being so overwhelming he can't accept it. It's a lot but it's a lot for the right reasons. The gift is sentimental but it's also stupidly, stupidly practical.
His hand falls onto Alucard's. He isn't quite looking at him, but his fingers lace into his, joining them in the blanket. ]
Sypha would be able to tell you, I'm sure. Seems like the kind of shit she'd know.
[ Which is a question as much as anything. Has he asked her? Because they do this as three or they do it not at all. ]
[Alucard's fingers are so warm right now. Warmest he's ever been without anyone's help. He's not rushing any of this, the way this all goes is on Trevor. Alucard knows that this shit is not Trevor's strong suit.
So that's why he doesn't rush anything. It's why he falls on gentle banter.]
We had the discussion yesterday. Neither of us are sure.
[ Because he cares. There are not (there in fact are) a lot of things he cares about particularly deeply, but these kind of things matter. They need to be done right. They need to mean something. ]
You don't have to tell me. And it doesn't have to be what I'd recognize it as. [ Because that would be impossible. ] But it has to- it has to mean something. There has to be a vow. Something has to be different the day after it than it was the day before.
[ This would be, technically, the only time in his life Trevor is going to ask for more dramatics. ]
[Because it has always been. Just three as one. Three as a part of a single prophecy. Three as a part of the only residents of the castle. Three clinging as tightly and as dearly to each other as two might when all the world turns against them. Everything else, that's formal. It's for the rest of the world.
They close themselves off from the world here. It is their corner of it, a corner more fiercely guarded than anything else. But that's not what it means to have vows, to have ceremony. That is intent declared to everyone else.
So Alucard had thought long and hard about that point, and he has asked the only people who'd be worth declaring that intent to beyond themselves.]
And the rest we shall invent. I spoke with Sypha's people. Their ways can work for three as easily as two. In many ways it...it is right. Their understanding of prophecy was how we were bound together in the first place.
So they'll know our intent. Down here shall have records. And I am open to whatever else you wish.
[ More than enough. Because really, the Speakers as witnesses makes this a special kind of permanent. Whatever this ends up being, it will last as long as there are people to pass it down to. It'll outlast even Alucard himself, maybe.
And on that topic- it's grim. It's horrible, and Alucard looks so, so happy and he doesn't want to ruin that-
But it has to be a condition of this. It has to be. ]
And. [ His hand squeezes. ] At the end of this-
[ You won't follow us before your time. And you won't become your father. You'll find a way to go on and to be happy in our absence. ]
That matter has always been on my mind. I...will avoid the pitfalls of the past.
[He won't assume that there will be other Belmonts to follow. That is a discussion for Trevor and Sypha and them alone. But Alucard likes to think he has demonstrated a far better ability to handle grief than his father as it is, and if not, he shall show it in other ways.
That's a vow. Here, now, his hand in Trevor's, squeezing back.]
I think the estate has wards against that kind of thing. But I'll find a way.
[ He smiles, and it's- very much like any other smile. His hand is in Alucard's. ]
You realize that this means that I get to blame any weird shit in the hold on Sypha's Family. Or yours. But I don't blame Sypha for nearly enough things.
No, you don't. Anything down here before this exact date is on your ancestor's heads, and just remember: I'm the one who administers the records. I get the final word.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
no subject
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.
no subject
[ ...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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
(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.) ]
no subject
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?
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.)]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
(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.]
no subject
(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?
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[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.)]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[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?
no subject
Oh.
Well shit.
He looks back at the- at all of it. It has a different meaning to it now. He'd caught on that it was a gift, but that it's a proposal? That adds meaning. And it changes meaning. Because this is travelling gear. This is- an understanding, that even this can't keep the world from needing them. That even if the three of them become one in the eyes of- whatever it is that looks over vampire marriages he doesn't even fucking know- then they'll still have to be separated.
This is Alucard being protective, still. An understanding that they can't always be at each other's sides, no matter what vows they make. The means by which, in separation, he can keep himself and Sypha safe until they meet again. The cloak is thick enough to turn away the cold, yes, but also to turn away claws of near any normal beast, and of most night creatures and even some vampires, when Alucard cannot turn them away himself. The sword and knives are- well, that goes without saying. ]
...This is the not-dramatic approach?
[ Is what he manages to say, but there's no hiding that soft, slightly rough texture to his voice. ]
no subject
[He gives up. Alucard can't not watch anymore. He puts the inventory down on the shelf he was inspecting, and crosses the little bit of space that remains between them so he can stand beside Trevor properly.
There's no hiding Alucard's face. It's smiling, a touch of nerves threaded in there. Trevor could still decline, and it'd be within his right to do so. (Sypha's response would make it harder though.) His hands find a place to rest in the larger blanket that is now underneath everything.]
I'm unsure how the title of princeling works when extended to rogues who become equals, you know. Couldn't find any helpful books.
no subject
[ Trevor's response is understated. Soft. He's not good with this shit. Never has been. But- fuck. This is overwhelming, but exactly on the right side of being so overwhelming he can't accept it. It's a lot but it's a lot for the right reasons. The gift is sentimental but it's also stupidly, stupidly practical.
His hand falls onto Alucard's. He isn't quite looking at him, but his fingers lace into his, joining them in the blanket. ]
Sypha would be able to tell you, I'm sure. Seems like the kind of shit she'd know.
[ Which is a question as much as anything. Has he asked her? Because they do this as three or they do it not at all. ]
no subject
[Alucard's fingers are so warm right now. Warmest he's ever been without anyone's help. He's not rushing any of this, the way this all goes is on Trevor. Alucard knows that this shit is not Trevor's strong suit.
So that's why he doesn't rush anything. It's why he falls on gentle banter.]
We had the discussion yesterday. Neither of us are sure.
[He gently squeezes Trevor's hands.]
We were waiting for your opinion.
no subject
[ Because he cares. There are not (there in fact are) a lot of things he cares about particularly deeply, but these kind of things matter. They need to be done right. They need to mean something. ]
You don't have to tell me. And it doesn't have to be what I'd recognize it as. [ Because that would be impossible. ] But it has to- it has to mean something. There has to be a vow. Something has to be different the day after it than it was the day before.
[ This would be, technically, the only time in his life Trevor is going to ask for more dramatics. ]
no subject
[Because it has always been. Just three as one. Three as a part of a single prophecy. Three as a part of the only residents of the castle. Three clinging as tightly and as dearly to each other as two might when all the world turns against them. Everything else, that's formal. It's for the rest of the world.
They close themselves off from the world here. It is their corner of it, a corner more fiercely guarded than anything else. But that's not what it means to have vows, to have ceremony. That is intent declared to everyone else.
So Alucard had thought long and hard about that point, and he has asked the only people who'd be worth declaring that intent to beyond themselves.]
And the rest we shall invent. I spoke with Sypha's people. Their ways can work for three as easily as two. In many ways it...it is right. Their understanding of prophecy was how we were bound together in the first place.
So they'll know our intent. Down here shall have records. And I am open to whatever else you wish.
no subject
[ More than enough. Because really, the Speakers as witnesses makes this a special kind of permanent. Whatever this ends up being, it will last as long as there are people to pass it down to. It'll outlast even Alucard himself, maybe.
And on that topic- it's grim. It's horrible, and Alucard looks so, so happy and he doesn't want to ruin that-
But it has to be a condition of this. It has to be. ]
And. [ His hand squeezes. ] At the end of this-
[ You won't follow us before your time. And you won't become your father. You'll find a way to go on and to be happy in our absence. ]
no subject
[He won't assume that there will be other Belmonts to follow. That is a discussion for Trevor and Sypha and them alone. But Alucard likes to think he has demonstrated a far better ability to handle grief than his father as it is, and if not, he shall show it in other ways.
That's a vow. Here, now, his hand in Trevor's, squeezing back.]
Haunt me if I fail.
no subject
[ He smiles, and it's- very much like any other smile. His hand is in Alucard's. ]
You realize that this means that I get to blame any weird shit in the hold on Sypha's Family. Or yours. But I don't blame Sypha for nearly enough things.
[ Ha ha, you're both Belmonts now. ]
no subject
[This is still not a yes, Trevor Belmont.]
No, you don't. Anything down here before this exact date is on your ancestor's heads, and just remember: I'm the one who administers the records. I get the final word.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)