Idiot [ His student does have a name, but Trevor never refers to him by anything other than insults among the three of them. ] ran all the way here, yelling that they caught a werewolf in one of the boar traps and he needed me to deal with it before it broke free.
[ He raises an arm lazily, waving it about in a gesture that's probably meant to mean something but that absolutely doesn't. ]
Not a werewolf. Don't know if it was one of yours. [ But, you know, it's rare to find injured wild animals willing to just let someone come up and touch them to get them loose. ] Leg's a little fucked up from pulling against the snare, but it ought to be able to keep it.
[He says it with more weight, because really. Idiot. At dawn he'll go, basket of bandages held in his teeth, and ensure all is well. He has been good about figuring out the traps that others lay (Alucard doesn't use them himself, no need), so this is new and annoying in all the wrong ways.
This angle is terrible, so Alucard inches down further on the bed, until he's where Trevor's head is. (With a foot, the nightstand gets pushed aside so he has more room.) Nudges Trevor's head to his lap instead of the pillow, because this is better. Much better.]
Thank you for letting me know. I'll be out with first light.
[ Lap. Lap is a good place to be. He coils himself around Alucard like a cat, curling so that his knees are settled behind him (Sypha rolls her eyes when his legs encroach into her space, because unlike a cat he is not cat-sized, but pats his knee and shuffles to the side a little). ]
Getting married soon. Think I'm meant to be protecting my virtue.
[ By which he means he's a little too tired for the kind of thing this sort of affection usually leads to. Best to get that out of the way now, avoid disappointing anyone. ]
[It is much harder to gather Trevor up in his arms like this. Which was the plan for about two seconds, but there's too much of Trevor behind Alucard now so that's right out the window.
Alucard's hands still comb through Trevor's hair though, gentle and careful of any knots that may still remain. When he catches them, there's a few moments spent to undo it all, and then his hands return to their work.]
[ He doesn't answer. He's not asleep, this is too nice to sleep though, just enjoying the moment. Because this is not thinking, too, the feeling of Alucard's hands carefully untangling his hair. Sypha struggling to reclaim her part of the bed, eventually just giving up and settling her legs over his. It's all pleasant and safe and none of it is thinking.
He could sleep. That had been the initial plan, just fall into bed and sleep and get up and start again in the morning. But it's- honestly been a little while since he indulged like this, because when he decides that he doesn't want to think that usually comes along with a lot of self-inflicted solitude. Which is a difficult thing to manage when you're in a home with two people you're going to be marrying in a month's time, but he has some talents and being alone even in company is one of them. ]
[They all know each other's moods well by now. They've learned when space is needed, and when space is to be ignored in order to put things to rest in full. This is edging towards where it needs to go, but Trevor's too relaxed at the moment. Perhaps they don't need the game now, perhaps this can all be dragged out through other means.
His hands keep going. Ghost over his cheek as well, since some hairs have scattered there instead.]
[ This is a lie. Literally nothing that Trevor has been working on is time-sensitive save for the garden, which is currently a non-issue, and for this evening spent finding and marking the boar traps so Alucard can let his pack know what to look out for (which is beneficial to all, because the townspeople don't want wolves in their boar traps any more than they do).
He chuckles softly, and Alucard's fingers are brushing over his cheek and it's so soft and gentle after days of nothing of the sort that it's almost unbearable. ]
And look who's fucking talking.
[ FRIENDO YOU'rE MAKING THIS WEDDING SUCH A BIG DEAL WHEN IT DOES NOT NEED TO BE. ]
[He sighs, and one hand slides down, reaching for Trevor's. With him curled up like this, it is a little strange, but he finds that hand. It's profane to do this in bed, but Trevor's much to comfortable, and they have to put this to rest. He moves Trevor's hand to where those terrible teeth were, where they found blood and took what they needed.]
It is profane to do this in bed. Too close, too much contact, too many other things tied up in it (metaphorically, not literally at present) here to work. His legs shift as he struggles to untangle himself from Sypha. Who JUST got comfortable again, but who is being very graceful about this. ]
Let me- floor. Let me floor.
[ Florr is good. Solid. Unemotional. Florr is a blank slate, and feelings don't get caught on florr like they do on bed. ]
[But that's not the point. The point is getting up first so Trevor can roll out of bed. And then giving him a hand up, because the floor probably shouldn't be next to the bed either. Too close, too mixed up.]
[ In front of sofa is a good florr. Treffy likes this florr.
He tries not to think as they head toward the usual place. Because thinking defies the point of the game. There has to be no thought in between the touch and the voicing, because both of them are very good at using thought to minimize things that have happened. Thinking stops this from working, because thought means thoughts like 'it doesn't matter', thoughts like 'I shouldn't worry them, when they've already been through so much' thoughts like 'I can bear this'.
Familiar thoughts to the both of them. There are blankets draped over the back of the sofa this time of year, and Trevor moves them onto the ground to sit down upon. Since vampire usually object to florr so much. ]
[Vampire takes a few pillows too. Even if it means some of his sewing is exposed, a flash of gold against a darker material in the dim light of the room. He'll live. They can't see the whole garment.
Settling on the floor is easy. There's no need to take shirts off for once, it's too cold and the only two scars that matter are not visible. What Alucard does is takes Trevor's hand in his, and he guides it to where it was before.]
I'll go first, unless you object.
[To remind him of how all of this works. And to make it clear how he views these things.]
It's not the easiest thing in the world to take note of, but he's made an effort not to touch there since the incident. It's happened before, because a lot of his recovery was spent in Alucard's arms and it's difficult to have someone's arms around you without the skin of those arms touching you. But he's not done it deliberately, and whenever he's been the one to accidentally make contact there, he's pulled away.
Fuck.
He brushes his thumb over it, over the blood vessel there (he can still remember it. Still picture it. Still feel it against his lips, if he lets himself.). And he's not sure he's ready to hear this. But he's absolutely fucking certain that he doesn't want Alucard to hold back when talking about it, because that would be so much worse. ]
[That avoidance has never escaped Alucard's notice. He's never forced contact until now, because Trevor's recovery? The only thing that mattered. Still the only thing that matters. This is the final step in it. God willing, this is the last time the game ever gets played.]
I gambled everything.
[It's so easy to say, isn't it? In that moment, he didn't know. He couldn't have known.]
I knew so very easily that the fight was the simple part. I knew that there were two people I love that needed two very different things, both key to survival. A moment to gather wits, and food. For the first, it was instinct. For the second, I knew that if I did this, I might make the problem worse. After all, the blood in those veins had enough of Walter in them to potentially compound the problem.
[That was something none of them truly acknowledge, was it? That somewhere, somewhere deep in there, was something far worse than Dracula. Removed only by two generations. Tempered by love and loss. Sitting and sewing a wedding dress.]
I knew the other solution too. The thing that I hate more than anything else, the thing that could compromise my own ability to ensure anyone's survival. I gambled again, and felt every memory stir.
For that gamble, I get to joke about arms instead.
He listens, and he does not apologize. He does not promise that it will never come again. He does not pull Alucard to him and cling to him for dear life. He follows the rules of the game.
(he hurt them. He hurt them both, in every conceivable way, and all because he made a flawed plan. All because he failed at the one thing they trusted him to do.)
Instead he waits for Alucard to finish. Waits a moment longer for him to describe betrayal. Hurt. Anything of the sort. It doesn't come. The whole thing is pragmatic, as it always was. Perhaps there were those things, but that would be a different game. Those aren't the ghosts that need to be chased away. And so he leans in, and he is very slow, more cautious than he has been with anything in his life. He moves toward the place that he tore open less than a year ago.
He stops a fraction of an inch away, waiting so see if Alucard flinches or pulls back, before pressing his lips softly against the crook of Alucard's elbow. And it's the most terrifying thing he's ever done. ]
[There's only a soft hand in Trevor's hair. Yes, it violates all of the rules, but this is more important. Because that injury, that horrifying moment, Alucard has never seen it as betrayal. It hurt, but only because having your entire arm nearly torn off is going to hurt, vampire or human or in between. It was the product of a terrible situation. It was no failing on Trevor's part, not really.
He strokes Trevor's hair gently. Reassuring, because he can sense the fear. It is too palpable in the air.
[ He remains there for a moment before he draws back. It's- it would be a lie to say that it made this all right again. But it's a starting point. And a starting point is what he needs.
And he probably knows what is coming next. He draws back slowly and nods. His turn. ]
[He does not kiss that patch of ashen skin. Neck stuff, even before this, was a No Go on anyone who wasn't Alucard. (He and Sypha indulged when Trevor was not around, and even then, Alucard was so very cautious about it.) A mark of respect, and perhaps an underlying worry about years of being a trained vampire killer spoiling an otherwise lovely evening in bed.
Alucard's fingers ghost over it. He's never inquired if there's sensation on that patch of skin, or if it is well and truly dead, like a destroyed nerve ending. Alucard imagines that he's happier in ignorance.
[ There is no sensation. It had gone back and forth at the time, when he was turning and turning back over and over, and he could feel there for three hours a day. It's- he isn't going to pretend it's not still weird, but it's- he's used to it now, and he can only feel there in nightmares. It being fixed would probably seem fucking scary at this point. ]
Dying has never frightened me.
[ That's- as good a place as any to start. ]
It still doesn't, save for what it would do to the two of you. But- shit, I was starting to think I'd have thirty left in me, give or take. Take, probably. I mean-
[ The alcohol, the years of malnourishment, the near constant habit of getting stabbed with things - he's taken a lot of years off his life already with some truly stupid shit. ]
-but fuck. That was all gone. In an instant. Because I fucked up. And I wasn't scared, but I was- sorry. Sorry that I'd led you both into a stupid fucking trap. That you'd have to do this all without me.
[ There's more, of course there's more. But he has to start somewhere, and the bite is the most sensible place to begin. ]
[The rules mean that Alucard cannot respond. Not properly. Not in a meaningful way. He cannot reach out and take Trevor's hands in his, his husband's hands in his because this is how the game works.
Listening to what feels like prologue, there is no new information. Alucard knew that Trevor's life before them would end him early. Never a doubt. It was amazing he survived for as long as he did, if he was a man of real honesty. Everything else was...it was them, wasn't it? Something beyond just Trevor.
He nods to show he is listening. That he is Following the Rules. And the way his hands twitch make it clear that it is so hard to follow those rules.]
It felt like- sometimes when I wake up, it feels like there's something holding me down. Something that isn't either of you. It felt like that, but from inside me. Stopping me from going. Pulling me back together.
[ Sleep paralysis is maybe not the best comparison but it's the one that seems most apt to him. It makes him feel powerless, it's desperately lonely even with the two of them at his side, and it's one of the few things that actually fucking terrifies him. ]
It didn't hurt, at first. I think any nerves that could have made it hurt were too damaged. It wasn't until the healing had started that I could feel it and- that was better, almost? I know what pain is, at least. Makes it all easier to think about. After that- I barely remember any of the first night. I know it sucked for all of us but- I don't remember a fucking thing other than it hurting.
Second day was just- until noon, it was just- being injured. I've done that before fuck knows how many times, I know how it works. Then at noon it was that thing again, holding me down, trying to drag me inside myself so something else could go to the outside. And at sunset it managed. Every fucking night it managed, no matter what I did. And then the third night-
-you know what happened on the third night.
[ He's staring downward at the blanket under them. ]
I didn't think I'd be that fucking weak. I've seen turnings. We have records of turnings. Some of them last months before they need to feed for the first time. I don't know if I'm just naturally shitty at this or if I managed to fuck my resistance to that shit up with the ale all these years. I thought I'd be stronger.
The incense was- about what I expected. Good. Couldn't think. Didn't want to think. Put an edge on the pain, because I couldn't think of anything else, but it was worth it.
[ He's shivering just a little, and not from the cold, and his voice is choked. ]
Turning back was always the worst part, even though it was the part we all wanted. Most painful part, no vampire healing. And- part of me hated giving up that much power. It was screaming 'no, no there's still so much good I can do'. That was the worst part, the turning back, and the wanting to stay as I was. It was better, once I couldn't think about it too hard.
[There are so many things that happen in Alucard's head at once. The obvious one is the heartbreak of hearing it, and that shows on his face. All the fear from before, the fear he choked back because they didn't have the time to deal with it a year ago, that's there. It's tempered with the terrible desire to drag Trevor close, and that same look on his face that Alucard had when the two confessed Sypha's horrible brush with a witchcraft accusation. (There is no nightstand to scratch.)
The pain. The particulars. They are an answer to why his mother was never turned, why his father probably never entertained the thought. Trevor's mention of how long turnings can take, why it was he couldn't resist, Alucard suspects it has nothing to do with that and everything to do with whose blood it was. Old and ancient and powerful and corrosive as hell. His father's blood would probably have a similar effect.
His fingers brush over the blanket. Trevor isn't done, so holding onto Trevor isn't an option.
But the part that surprises him most is the giving up that much power. The part that was convinced good could come of it. Words he'd never thought to associated with turning. Words that a Belmont probably wouldn't either. Strange words, and so very, very chilling.
Alucard's not going to force Trevor to meet his eyes, but there is a question in his: is there more?]
I could have put an end to all of this. To everything. To every fucking vampire in Europe - maybe in the world - that wouldn't fucking behave. To all the nasty things they kept in line. You wouldn't have stopped me, and there'd be nothing else in the world that could - there have only ever been two. There would never be need for Belmonts again.
[ He could have written a long, long suicide note. And they all know so much about those. ]
And I chose not to. Because it would have made two people kind of sad, and I'm a selfish shit like that.
[ There's one last thing, and the tone makes it clear that it's the end of it. ]
She has long eyelashes, And these stupid dimples, when she smiles. When she pretends to, at least. Only chance I'll ever have to see them properly, and it was the one time she couldn't smile. You'll have to tell me, when they're there.
[That had been de Rais' plan, hadn't it? The authority of the name Belmont to bring in all those dark things under control in full. Possibly exterminate them, all because the three had failed to find balance between what they owed to the world and what they owed to each other. (It is a question all that live must find an answer to. It is a question none has a response for until they pass.) It aches to know that part of Trevor might have agreed to it. It is worse when he says the all too correct thing: that only two could have stopped him, and they never would. For guilt perhaps, or refusal to go down the road of killing someone so loved again, or their righteous rage that this had come to pass.
It would be a novel. Not a note.
(He'd be beside Trevor for it, wouldnn't he? Sypha might pass, but he would not. Then they'd tear everything down together, clinging to each other and to memory, and they would be worse than their fathers and forefathers ever could be.)
This can only be draining the poison. Alucard tells himself that, and God if the only light in all of this is how the return of vision let him see Sypha so very, very clearly. It's something Alucard takes for granted. He won't again. He'll make sure Trevor knows, especially in a month from now. Whisper all the details he's missing when they both see her dressed in full, and then again when they're in bed for the first time together.
Then all is done. This is to be sealed.
Alucard leans over. The first and last time his lips shall ever touch Trevor's neck. He puts the softest kiss he can on the place where dead skin and living meet, and in that moment, he realizes that this is the same spot where he almost tore Trevor's throat out. Almost exact. There is such a soft gasp of realization that he might as well be a summer wind sighing.
Then he withdraws. Puts either hand on each side of Trevor's cheek, kisses forehead.]
[ It helps. It doesn't change a thing, but it helps. He'll still never know if he was right to choose what he did, to choose to be himself instead of The Last Belmont The World Would Need. But the question has hung in the air and been dismissed and is no longer stuck inside his head flinging itself against the walls.
Maybe he was wrong. But at the end of the day he owes the world nothing, and he owes the only two people who would have suffered from it the world.
Alucard kisses his forehead. Frees him. And he shakes his head. ]
One last round.
[ This is going to be the last time they do this, isn't it? The last time in a long time, at least. Because none of them will let any of this happen again. There'll be no need. He places his hands not on Alucard, but on the floor. ]
Tell me about the last time this place had a family in its walls.
[ He's never really asked. It was never proper, really. Even if he were to ask in good faith, a Belmont is a Belmont, and anything about Dracula - about Alucard's family, about his family now, at least as much as the speakers were, and maybe more so for events of the past - anything Alucard could say would only ever be intelligence. Something for him to scour for signs of weaknesses, for anything that could be turned upon his father.
He should ask. He should know. Dracula is a part of Alucard just as much as questionable filing methods and overfondness for wolfsbane and mistletoe and dogs called Dog are a part of him. He should listen, and he should listen while not tearing every word apart in search of hidden information and maybe now he's finally, finally capable of it. ]
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cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
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[ He raises an arm lazily, waving it about in a gesture that's probably meant to mean something but that absolutely doesn't. ]
Not a werewolf. Don't know if it was one of yours. [ But, you know, it's rare to find injured wild animals willing to just let someone come up and touch them to get them loose. ] Leg's a little fucked up from pulling against the snare, but it ought to be able to keep it.
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[He says it with more weight, because really. Idiot. At dawn he'll go, basket of bandages held in his teeth, and ensure all is well. He has been good about figuring out the traps that others lay (Alucard doesn't use them himself, no need), so this is new and annoying in all the wrong ways.
This angle is terrible, so Alucard inches down further on the bed, until he's where Trevor's head is. (With a foot, the nightstand gets pushed aside so he has more room.) Nudges Trevor's head to his lap instead of the pillow, because this is better. Much better.]
Thank you for letting me know. I'll be out with first light.
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Getting married soon. Think I'm meant to be protecting my virtue.
[ By which he means he's a little too tired for the kind of thing this sort of affection usually leads to. Best to get that out of the way now, avoid disappointing anyone. ]
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Alucard's hands still comb through Trevor's hair though, gentle and careful of any knots that may still remain. When he catches them, there's a few moments spent to undo it all, and then his hands return to their work.]
Oh, then I am a knight such a task.
[No disappointment at all. Only a soft laugh.]
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He could sleep. That had been the initial plan, just fall into bed and sleep and get up and start again in the morning. But it's- honestly been a little while since he indulged like this, because when he decides that he doesn't want to think that usually comes along with a lot of self-inflicted solitude. Which is a difficult thing to manage when you're in a home with two people you're going to be marrying in a month's time, but he has some talents and being alone even in company is one of them. ]
You're being sappy, aren't you?
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[They all know each other's moods well by now. They've learned when space is needed, and when space is to be ignored in order to put things to rest in full. This is edging towards where it needs to go, but Trevor's too relaxed at the moment. Perhaps they don't need the game now, perhaps this can all be dragged out through other means.
His hands keep going. Ghost over his cheek as well, since some hairs have scattered there instead.]
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[ This is a lie. Literally nothing that Trevor has been working on is time-sensitive save for the garden, which is currently a non-issue, and for this evening spent finding and marking the boar traps so Alucard can let his pack know what to look out for (which is beneficial to all, because the townspeople don't want wolves in their boar traps any more than they do).
He chuckles softly, and Alucard's fingers are brushing over his cheek and it's so soft and gentle after days of nothing of the sort that it's almost unbearable. ]
And look who's fucking talking.
[ FRIENDO YOU'rE MAKING THIS WEDDING SUCH A BIG DEAL WHEN IT DOES NOT NEED TO BE. ]
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[He sighs, and one hand slides down, reaching for Trevor's. With him curled up like this, it is a little strange, but he finds that hand. It's profane to do this in bed, but Trevor's much to comfortable, and they have to put this to rest. He moves Trevor's hand to where those terrible teeth were, where they found blood and took what they needed.]
You have been avoiding the root of the problem.
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Oh, that's what this is about.
It is profane to do this in bed. Too close, too much contact, too many other things tied up in it (metaphorically, not literally at present) here to work. His legs shift as he struggles to untangle himself from Sypha. Who JUST got comfortable again, but who is being very graceful about this. ]
Let me- floor. Let me floor.
[ Florr is good. Solid. Unemotional. Florr is a blank slate, and feelings don't get caught on florr like they do on bed. ]
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You beat me to bed before...
[But that's not the point. The point is getting up first so Trevor can roll out of bed. And then giving him a hand up, because the floor probably shouldn't be next to the bed either. Too close, too mixed up.]
The usual place.
[Florr. In front of sofa.]
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[ In front of sofa is a good florr. Treffy likes this florr.
He tries not to think as they head toward the usual place. Because thinking defies the point of the game. There has to be no thought in between the touch and the voicing, because both of them are very good at using thought to minimize things that have happened. Thinking stops this from working, because thought means thoughts like 'it doesn't matter', thoughts like 'I shouldn't worry them, when they've already been through so much' thoughts like 'I can bear this'.
Familiar thoughts to the both of them. There are blankets draped over the back of the sofa this time of year, and Trevor moves them onto the ground to sit down upon. Since vampire usually object to florr so much. ]
Ready.
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Settling on the floor is easy. There's no need to take shirts off for once, it's too cold and the only two scars that matter are not visible. What Alucard does is takes Trevor's hand in his, and he guides it to where it was before.]
I'll go first, unless you object.
[To remind him of how all of this works. And to make it clear how he views these things.]
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It's not the easiest thing in the world to take note of, but he's made an effort not to touch there since the incident. It's happened before, because a lot of his recovery was spent in Alucard's arms and it's difficult to have someone's arms around you without the skin of those arms touching you. But he's not done it deliberately, and whenever he's been the one to accidentally make contact there, he's pulled away.
Fuck.
He brushes his thumb over it, over the blood vessel there (he can still remember it. Still picture it. Still feel it against his lips, if he lets himself.). And he's not sure he's ready to hear this. But he's absolutely fucking certain that he doesn't want Alucard to hold back when talking about it, because that would be so much worse. ]
Tell me.
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I gambled everything.
[It's so easy to say, isn't it? In that moment, he didn't know. He couldn't have known.]
I knew so very easily that the fight was the simple part. I knew that there were two people I love that needed two very different things, both key to survival. A moment to gather wits, and food. For the first, it was instinct. For the second, I knew that if I did this, I might make the problem worse. After all, the blood in those veins had enough of Walter in them to potentially compound the problem.
[That was something none of them truly acknowledge, was it? That somewhere, somewhere deep in there, was something far worse than Dracula. Removed only by two generations. Tempered by love and loss. Sitting and sewing a wedding dress.]
I knew the other solution too. The thing that I hate more than anything else, the thing that could compromise my own ability to ensure anyone's survival. I gambled again, and felt every memory stir.
For that gamble, I get to joke about arms instead.
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He listens, and he does not apologize. He does not promise that it will never come again. He does not pull Alucard to him and cling to him for dear life. He follows the rules of the game.
(he hurt them. He hurt them both, in every conceivable way, and all because he made a flawed plan. All because he failed at the one thing they trusted him to do.)
Instead he waits for Alucard to finish. Waits a moment longer for him to describe betrayal. Hurt. Anything of the sort. It doesn't come. The whole thing is pragmatic, as it always was. Perhaps there were those things, but that would be a different game. Those aren't the ghosts that need to be chased away. And so he leans in, and he is very slow, more cautious than he has been with anything in his life. He moves toward the place that he tore open less than a year ago.
He stops a fraction of an inch away, waiting so see if Alucard flinches or pulls back, before pressing his lips softly against the crook of Alucard's elbow. And it's the most terrifying thing he's ever done. ]
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He strokes Trevor's hair gently. Reassuring, because he can sense the fear. It is too palpable in the air.
It needs to be chased away for good.]
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And he probably knows what is coming next. He draws back slowly and nods. His turn. ]
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Alucard's fingers ghost over it. He's never inquired if there's sensation on that patch of skin, or if it is well and truly dead, like a destroyed nerve ending. Alucard imagines that he's happier in ignorance.
His fingers fall away.]
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Dying has never frightened me.
[ That's- as good a place as any to start. ]
It still doesn't, save for what it would do to the two of you. But- shit, I was starting to think I'd have thirty left in me, give or take. Take, probably. I mean-
[ The alcohol, the years of malnourishment, the near constant habit of getting stabbed with things - he's taken a lot of years off his life already with some truly stupid shit. ]
-but fuck. That was all gone. In an instant. Because I fucked up. And I wasn't scared, but I was- sorry. Sorry that I'd led you both into a stupid fucking trap. That you'd have to do this all without me.
[ There's more, of course there's more. But he has to start somewhere, and the bite is the most sensible place to begin. ]
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Listening to what feels like prologue, there is no new information. Alucard knew that Trevor's life before them would end him early. Never a doubt. It was amazing he survived for as long as he did, if he was a man of real honesty. Everything else was...it was them, wasn't it? Something beyond just Trevor.
He nods to show he is listening. That he is Following the Rules. And the way his hands twitch make it clear that it is so hard to follow those rules.]
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[ Sleep paralysis is maybe not the best comparison but it's the one that seems most apt to him. It makes him feel powerless, it's desperately lonely even with the two of them at his side, and it's one of the few things that actually fucking terrifies him. ]
It didn't hurt, at first. I think any nerves that could have made it hurt were too damaged. It wasn't until the healing had started that I could feel it and- that was better, almost? I know what pain is, at least. Makes it all easier to think about. After that- I barely remember any of the first night. I know it sucked for all of us but- I don't remember a fucking thing other than it hurting.
Second day was just- until noon, it was just- being injured. I've done that before fuck knows how many times, I know how it works. Then at noon it was that thing again, holding me down, trying to drag me inside myself so something else could go to the outside. And at sunset it managed. Every fucking night it managed, no matter what I did. And then the third night-
-you know what happened on the third night.
[ He's staring downward at the blanket under them. ]
I didn't think I'd be that fucking weak. I've seen turnings. We have records of turnings. Some of them last months before they need to feed for the first time. I don't know if I'm just naturally shitty at this or if I managed to fuck my resistance to that shit up with the ale all these years. I thought I'd be stronger.
The incense was- about what I expected. Good. Couldn't think. Didn't want to think. Put an edge on the pain, because I couldn't think of anything else, but it was worth it.
[ He's shivering just a little, and not from the cold, and his voice is choked. ]
Turning back was always the worst part, even though it was the part we all wanted. Most painful part, no vampire healing. And- part of me hated giving up that much power. It was screaming 'no, no there's still so much good I can do'. That was the worst part, the turning back, and the wanting to stay as I was. It was better, once I couldn't think about it too hard.
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The pain. The particulars. They are an answer to why his mother was never turned, why his father probably never entertained the thought. Trevor's mention of how long turnings can take, why it was he couldn't resist, Alucard suspects it has nothing to do with that and everything to do with whose blood it was. Old and ancient and powerful and corrosive as hell. His father's blood would probably have a similar effect.
His fingers brush over the blanket. Trevor isn't done, so holding onto Trevor isn't an option.
But the part that surprises him most is the giving up that much power. The part that was convinced good could come of it. Words he'd never thought to associated with turning. Words that a Belmont probably wouldn't either. Strange words, and so very, very chilling.
Alucard's not going to force Trevor to meet his eyes, but there is a question in his: is there more?]
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[ He could have written a long, long suicide note. And they all know so much about those. ]
And I chose not to. Because it would have made two people kind of sad, and I'm a selfish shit like that.
[ There's one last thing, and the tone makes it clear that it's the end of it. ]
She has long eyelashes, And these stupid dimples, when she smiles. When she pretends to, at least. Only chance I'll ever have to see them properly, and it was the one time she couldn't smile. You'll have to tell me, when they're there.
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It would be a novel. Not a note.
(He'd be beside Trevor for it, wouldnn't he? Sypha might pass, but he would not. Then they'd tear everything down together, clinging to each other and to memory, and they would be worse than their fathers and forefathers ever could be.)
This can only be draining the poison. Alucard tells himself that, and God if the only light in all of this is how the return of vision let him see Sypha so very, very clearly. It's something Alucard takes for granted. He won't again. He'll make sure Trevor knows, especially in a month from now. Whisper all the details he's missing when they both see her dressed in full, and then again when they're in bed for the first time together.
Then all is done. This is to be sealed.
Alucard leans over. The first and last time his lips shall ever touch Trevor's neck. He puts the softest kiss he can on the place where dead skin and living meet, and in that moment, he realizes that this is the same spot where he almost tore Trevor's throat out. Almost exact. There is such a soft gasp of realization that he might as well be a summer wind sighing.
Then he withdraws. Puts either hand on each side of Trevor's cheek, kisses forehead.]
We're done.
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Maybe he was wrong. But at the end of the day he owes the world nothing, and he owes the only two people who would have suffered from it the world.
Alucard kisses his forehead. Frees him. And he shakes his head. ]
One last round.
[ This is going to be the last time they do this, isn't it? The last time in a long time, at least. Because none of them will let any of this happen again. There'll be no need. He places his hands not on Alucard, but on the floor. ]
Tell me about the last time this place had a family in its walls.
[ He's never really asked. It was never proper, really. Even if he were to ask in good faith, a Belmont is a Belmont, and anything about Dracula - about Alucard's family, about his family now, at least as much as the speakers were, and maybe more so for events of the past - anything Alucard could say would only ever be intelligence. Something for him to scour for signs of weaknesses, for anything that could be turned upon his father.
He should ask. He should know. Dracula is a part of Alucard just as much as questionable filing methods and overfondness for wolfsbane and mistletoe and dogs called Dog are a part of him. He should listen, and he should listen while not tearing every word apart in search of hidden information and maybe now he's finally, finally capable of it. ]
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