[ They're close. They can tell they're close, because the horses keep trying to turn back. At first he'd thought that it was Useless living up to his name (though Sypha keeps trying to convince him to answer to 'Ulysses' instead). But even the slightly more competent of the horses seems intent on turning away. Another half mile, and Trevor can feel the same charm start to affect him, as well. That knowledge, deep inside him, that they ought not be here and they should turn back.
(And it is a very odd feeling, knowing that that feeling means they're at the right place and ought to go forward. He believes both entirely, and he doesn't usually care enough about anything to feel conflicted like this.)
They first gave up on the plan of Sypha driving the horses and instead turned to the less dignified 'Trevor tries to drag the fucking beasts' option. When that also threatened to result in the two idiot horses tearing their wagon apart, they have instead turned to bribery, Trevor walking backwards with an apple in each hand, leading the stupid things forward. Which means he has his back turned to the road, and only notices something might be amiss when Sypha's jaw hangs open in wonderment.
And so he turns.
A little way away from here, the late winter stops. It just stops, the frost on the ground replaced with thick grasses and wildflowers and trees with leaves only just starting to turn from green to gold. ]
Shit. I heard that there were places where the seasons're all backward. [ Sypha had told him stories of such places, once, faraway places that saw the heaviest snows in the heights of summer. ] Didn't think they were in France.
[Being compelled away from this place effects even Alucard. That chills him, because compulsion is something he's far more immune to than most. But this is the work of magic and not vampiric nonsense, and there's a point where fighting against the charm is a matter of principle because this will not impact him.
He has no opinion on the horses, other than the whole thing with bribing is absolutely hilarious.
They break through the barrier. The world around them is nearly to the brim with magic. Sypha says it first, and Alucard can only nod in quiet agreement. He's thinking about the journals, about the timeline of things, and there's a soft hiss as he realizes what this place means.]
This isn't a backward season.
[He says it with his usual gravity, crouching down in the grass to feel the warmth there. His glove goes of for good measure.]
[ Not that he has anything against the supplies they've brought, especially now it's Alucard preparing them rather than Sypha, but it's getting to that point in winter where the anxieties about having enough food to last the season really start to dig their claws into Trevor, regardless of how well stocked they are. He's near starved a few too many times to let go of those worries. Practicality is easier than fussing over the magic, too, and he just keeps leading the horses forward even if his task is now complicated by the perfectly good trees filled with apples on each side of the road.
Thankfully, the road is better maintained here, as if used far more often, and the horses have an easier time of it. That magic is now behind them as well as ahead of them, driving them in both directions at once, and with the wagon attached to them and the road so clear, forward is the easiest way to go. It's a little way further - about a half hour of horse-bribing and island debate - before the home of the Trantoul family grows close enough to be seen properly.
Smoke still rises from the chimneys. Horses stamp their hooves in the stables. There is barking coming from somewhere. The home seems alive in every possible way, save for - at least at first glance - the complete absence of people. ]
Shit, that's some pretty competently-done magic bullshit.
[The warmth prompts Alucard to shed his gloves along with his coat, and they're stored in the packs soon enough. It is deeply strange to be in the full swell of summer, and it just gets stranger as the magic pushes and pulls against them all.
His head is not full of joy at the potential for fresh food in the dead of winter. It is heavier, the knowledge of who is responsible for this weighing thoughts down. There's such a contrast of this warmth to the castle, which has always loomed and menaced and been just so very much a presence in his life.
The smoke is strange. The barking is stranger. The horses just set Alucard's face into a frown. He expected there to be quiet here. A place with no life, just left to it's spot in the frozen time stream.
At Trevor's comment, there's a thin smile with a hint of fang.]
I feel like I ought to thank you for the compliment.
Don't start taking credit for your dad's work. That's only going to lead you to shitty places.
[ It's warm and fond but with an edge of sternness to it. He doesn't mind the joke, but Alucard's done quite enough accepting responsibility for his father's actions as is. Best to cut that shit off early. ]
Open shutters and curtains. [ He says, looking over the home. ] If there is something hiding in there, it sure as shit isn't a vampire.
[ Which doesn't mean that they don't have trouble. But it does mean that if there is trouble here, it will be getting exactly no use out of the Crimson Stone. That, at least, is good. ]
[He takes the point and chastisement for what it is. Even if it is some truly incredible magic and there can be a little, tiny bit of pride in seeing something that isn't all darkness.
When Trevor speaks of opening things, Alucard's eyes actually go onto the estate itself, curious if the home will in fact respond. Because if this place is like the castle, maybe it will.]
[ There is no lock on the gates, just a metal latch to hold them closed against wind. He lifts it, just in case, and it opens without resistance. He examines the metal a little longer, after the wagon has passed through the gates, but the metal isn't silver. In fact, there are none of his own family's defensive measures against the supernatural to be seen. No silver, no mistletoe, a cross on the tiny chapel at one side of the estate but not one made to protect against vampires (it clearly didn't work, if Justine was dropped in here without issue). It's strange, the place where both of their families began, flooded with sunlight and devoid of silver.
Inside, the grounds, there are a few more signs of a struggle. But even they are few. Disturbed earth, a little damage to brickwork, the telltale smell in places of a cleaning solution strong enough to clean away blood. ]
We should make sure that there's nothing here before we stable the horses. We may yet need to make a hasty retreat.
[ The servants' entrance is a little closer than the main entrance, and Trevor heads for that door first. Looks to lead into a kitchen. ]
Either of you want to look at this, make sure I won't die if I try to open it?
[There should at least be a lock. There's no lock. That's the detail that creeps Alucard out the most, for there's no lock and there's no defensive measures besides what was built into the estate at the outset. He tenses at that fact, and the tension does not fade as they all walk through the gates. Enter the grounds to a familiar smell of cleaning solution. (Before his father's blood removal skills improved.)
Who's to enter first? The poetics of the situation suggest that it ought to be Trevor. This is the origin of so many things but....ah. No. The poetics are wrong, if the rank of his father was less than that of Leon Belmont.]
I'll go in first.
[He looks at Trevor with a grim face which cracks into a thin smile.]
[ Trevor smiles at that. It's been too long since Alucard has been the sturdy fucker. He's spent far too much of the last year being downright fragile. This is a sort of normal just as much as life at the castle is, him trying to do the stupid thing and Alucard insisting that no, he should do the stupid thing, all while trying to make it sound less stupid than it is.
He double checks the handle (there's rust on it, not silver, or at least not any kind of silver pure enough to be a danger) and looks in through the windows (a normal kitchen, by all appearances, if one lacking all the wonderful things that the castle has. Familiar, almost. Like Leon's idea of what a home ought to be came from this place). Behind them, ice swirls around Sypha's fingers. ]
[The smile isn't unnoticed. It's a shared sentiment, because to be out and doing things again instead of the all too many stages of recovery feels like the other part of normal again. Strong again. Himself again. Knowing that this is shared is good too.
Passing through the kitchen, Alucard takes no chances. His concentration is on his sword, ready to unsheathe and attack if need be. He knows full well that if there are traps (there should be, knowing his father) then it will not be upon walking in.
The kitchen is older. Simpler. He goes towards the hearth, for if there is a logical place to attack a man coming in from the cold, then it is there.
He is all of five feet away from it when there's a sudden shift in the shadows of the room. It is as if dusk has fallen in the room, and in a moment, the sword is out and hovering in the air.]
As expected.
[He smiles thinly. There's some comfort in predicting this, and soon the doors in the kitchen slam shut.]
Wait for the full of it to set in.
[He calls it out to Trevor and Sypha, because this trap is first meant to scare. THen the worst shall come.]
[ Indoors, in a place that isn't quite so vast and expansive as the castle, is not the best place to be using a whip or longsword. He takes one of his knives instead. Easier to use without getting in the way of his companions or them getting in the way of him. ]
Well shit.
[ It's fucking weird - the view outside is still clearly mid afternoon on a cloudless day. But no light seems to come through the window. He does the thing that occurs to him first and also probably the thing most likely to give Alucard grey hairs (because time certainly won't do it).
He takes the handle of the door at the far side of the kitchen, and turns it. And also challenges the house to a fight while he's at it. ]
Hey, you fucking house. Cut that shit out. I'm Leon's. I belong here.
[There's something coming out of the floor, all shadows and spindly legs, and Alucard's already on it with his sword. There's something familiar in it, and he's aware, but then...
...then Trevor is trying to yell at the house and that gives him an idea.]
Trevor! Treat it like the journals, use blood on the handle!
[ They are. They are, it seems, magic developed by the family's oldest enemy. He'll avoid thinking about that later.
For now, despite his denial, he does as he's told and slices into his palm with the knife, placing his hand on the door's handle. It gives, easily, and the daylight returns to the kitchen behind him. A hallway leads ahead. ]
I can honestly say that's the first time someone's decided they want to make me bleed four centuries in advance.
But Alucard will take satisfaction in the fact the shadows all fade. That his theory is right, and that there is no greater threat ahead. His sword finds it's sheath all too quickly, and he smirks in satisfaction.
Not just at his own success, but at Trevor's comment too. It feels good to be back in this rhythm.]
If it makes you feel better, I don't think that you specifically were anticipated.
Well shit, here I was thinking I was worth that kind of effort.
[ He puts his knife away, less because of an understanding that the danger is over and more to press down on one hand with the other to stop the bleeding. He really ought to just have cut his thumb, as he did with the journals. But he was too busy picking a fight with a house to think clearly. At least he won't need to open anything again if the house wants more blood. ]
Congratulations, you're apparently a shittier vampire than the fucking doorknob is.
[ Spend four years with an actual vampire and they don't even make the top fifty list for things that have demanded blood. ]
[There's two laughs at the effort comment, because that's how this kind of thing always goes. Someone breaks the tension with a joke, and the laugh is both real laughter and release.
They're okay for now, and the kitchen was a good place to start. Alucard inspects it all carefully (it's terribly small, but kitchen design does not appear to have changed much in 400 or so years), with special attention to the foodstores. It seems that in this time capsule, even the summer bounty of food is saved but...
...hm. He wonders something to himself, but is yet to voice it outloud.]
I think we can safely bring our equipment in, then take the horses out to the stables.
You're probably right. Safe to assume that we're the first ones here in a while, if there are still traps active.
[ He looks to the bloodied door handle again. Leon. Leon was the exception to all of these traps. It made sense - they must have been set while Mathias was still tending Sara, before hope was lost, and at that time Leon would have been coming and going in search of any remedy or doctor he could find. He'd need to be able to enter and leave safely. ]
I'll stable Useless and his friend. [ Ulysses, Sypha corrects. ] And see if this place doesn't have a more sturdy wagon lying around somewhere. Think the two of you can manage bringing in the essentials? I daresay it'll be safe to leave anything we don't feel like bringing in out in the wagon. This place is deserted.
If the traps are all like this, you're going to be the one who needs to disarm them. I expect going room-by-room shall be demanded of us, which is for the better anyway.
[It only makes sense that this place will respond to Trevor. The more Alucard considers it, the easier the truth reveals itself: this is the castle's prototype. Wilder spells, less refined, intended for another. Youth and brighter days ahead. Less experience and less a need to make a fortress.]
We can do that. I'm curious to find out if the horses are really there, or if we're just hearing echoes of the past when it comes to other living things.
[That goddamn grin. Alucard can only groan at it while Sypha laughs, because Trevor, please have better dreams. This one fucking sucks.]
Go, we'll see you in a bit.
[Which means that as he and Sypha unpack, Alucard asks about stories again - specifically ones where food is important. There's so many, but even in their briefest forms, Alucard grows more and more concerned about what lies in the kitchen.
[ The horses are, in fact, present. Or 'horse', at least. Only one of them. Sara's, most likely, going by the timeline of events she would be the only one who wasn't in any state to ride anywhere, and exactly the sort of overly decorated, delicate thing that one might expect a lady of her station to favour. It eats eagerly when he feeds their own horses, but it doesn't seem to have gone hungry for being left as long as it has.
There is a wagon, not covered but in far better condition than the one they brought. While Alucard and Sypha talk, he explores a little, careful to not get out of yelling range. There is a little dust in the little chapel at the far side of the estate, but only a week or so's worth. He probably wouldn't have even noticed if Alucard weren't so stubborn about keeping the areas of the castle that they lived in practically immaculate.
There is a grave outside it, marked by a simple wooden marker, covered in cut flowers that havn't even started to wilt even after 400 years.
No names on the marker, but it doesn't need one. That would be Sara. Unconsciously, his hand goes to the Morning Star. ]
Horse is real. [ He says on his return. ] Likes feed just as much as either of the others.
[In the time that Trevor has gone to explore the grounds, all of the bags have at the very least been brought into the kitchen. There's a logical assortment of piles ("food" and "weapons" and "weapons Alucard can't touch"), and it has all been coupled with Sypha rolling through story after story of food. Sacred food, cursed food, what happens when you eat what isn't offered.
The consequences, it seems, tend to be dire no matter what. And it means that when Trevor walks back in, all the more informed about what these grounds hold, Alucard is starring down a basket of tiny, plump strawberries with complete and utter suspicion. His arms are across his chest, eyes are narrowed, and Sypha's just watching him do this with a mixture of amusement and real concern.
He doesn't even look up when Trevor walks in. He just keeps with this pointless staring contest.]
That's interesting. No people, but animals are fine. I thought I heard a dog earlier as well, was there any sign of one out there?
[ He frowns, following Alucard's gaze to try to figure out what the problem is. Strawberries. The problem is strawberries. And that is, thankfully, a problem he knows just how to solve. ]
Strawberries pissing you off?
[ Aaaand he grins and reaches out to grab a few. because of course he does. ]
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cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
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(And it is a very odd feeling, knowing that that feeling means they're at the right place and ought to go forward. He believes both entirely, and he doesn't usually care enough about anything to feel conflicted like this.)
They first gave up on the plan of Sypha driving the horses and instead turned to the less dignified 'Trevor tries to drag the fucking beasts' option. When that also threatened to result in the two idiot horses tearing their wagon apart, they have instead turned to bribery, Trevor walking backwards with an apple in each hand, leading the stupid things forward. Which means he has his back turned to the road, and only notices something might be amiss when Sypha's jaw hangs open in wonderment.
And so he turns.
A little way away from here, the late winter stops. It just stops, the frost on the ground replaced with thick grasses and wildflowers and trees with leaves only just starting to turn from green to gold. ]
Shit. I heard that there were places where the seasons're all backward. [ Sypha had told him stories of such places, once, faraway places that saw the heaviest snows in the heights of summer. ] Didn't think they were in France.
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He has no opinion on the horses, other than the whole thing with bribing is absolutely hilarious.
They break through the barrier. The world around them is nearly to the brim with magic. Sypha says it first, and Alucard can only nod in quiet agreement. He's thinking about the journals, about the timeline of things, and there's a soft hiss as he realizes what this place means.]
This isn't a backward season.
[He says it with his usual gravity, crouching down in the grass to feel the warmth there. His glove goes of for good measure.]
It's a place isolated in time. Like an island.
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[ THAT'S HIM LISTING HIS ISLAND-RELATED QUALIFICATIONS. Brittania is technically an island. Probably. He thinks. ]
Looks more like magic bullshit to me.
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[Alucard removes his glove to be sure. Even the earth is warm here.]
I said like an island, if we're looking at time as an ocean and this place as a small little outcropping in it.
[He straightens up, and then looks ahead.]
It's as it was left, season and all. That means whatever we find inside that estate, it shall be as it was when this place was abandoned.
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[ Not that he has anything against the supplies they've brought, especially now it's Alucard preparing them rather than Sypha, but it's getting to that point in winter where the anxieties about having enough food to last the season really start to dig their claws into Trevor, regardless of how well stocked they are. He's near starved a few too many times to let go of those worries. Practicality is easier than fussing over the magic, too, and he just keeps leading the horses forward even if his task is now complicated by the perfectly good trees filled with apples on each side of the road.
Thankfully, the road is better maintained here, as if used far more often, and the horses have an easier time of it. That magic is now behind them as well as ahead of them, driving them in both directions at once, and with the wagon attached to them and the road so clear, forward is the easiest way to go. It's a little way further - about a half hour of horse-bribing and island debate - before the home of the Trantoul family grows close enough to be seen properly.
Smoke still rises from the chimneys. Horses stamp their hooves in the stables. There is barking coming from somewhere. The home seems alive in every possible way, save for - at least at first glance - the complete absence of people. ]
Shit, that's some pretty competently-done magic bullshit.
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His head is not full of joy at the potential for fresh food in the dead of winter. It is heavier, the knowledge of who is responsible for this weighing thoughts down. There's such a contrast of this warmth to the castle, which has always loomed and menaced and been just so very much a presence in his life.
The smoke is strange. The barking is stranger. The horses just set Alucard's face into a frown. He expected there to be quiet here. A place with no life, just left to it's spot in the frozen time stream.
At Trevor's comment, there's a thin smile with a hint of fang.]
I feel like I ought to thank you for the compliment.
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[ It's warm and fond but with an edge of sternness to it. He doesn't mind the joke, but Alucard's done quite enough accepting responsibility for his father's actions as is. Best to cut that shit off early. ]
Open shutters and curtains. [ He says, looking over the home. ] If there is something hiding in there, it sure as shit isn't a vampire.
[ Which doesn't mean that they don't have trouble. But it does mean that if there is trouble here, it will be getting exactly no use out of the Crimson Stone. That, at least, is good. ]
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[He takes the point and chastisement for what it is. Even if it is some truly incredible magic and there can be a little, tiny bit of pride in seeing something that isn't all darkness.
When Trevor speaks of opening things, Alucard's eyes actually go onto the estate itself, curious if the home will in fact respond. Because if this place is like the castle, maybe it will.]
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Inside, the grounds, there are a few more signs of a struggle. But even they are few. Disturbed earth, a little damage to brickwork, the telltale smell in places of a cleaning solution strong enough to clean away blood. ]
We should make sure that there's nothing here before we stable the horses. We may yet need to make a hasty retreat.
[ The servants' entrance is a little closer than the main entrance, and Trevor heads for that door first. Looks to lead into a kitchen. ]
Either of you want to look at this, make sure I won't die if I try to open it?
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Who's to enter first? The poetics of the situation suggest that it ought to be Trevor. This is the origin of so many things but....ah. No. The poetics are wrong, if the rank of his father was less than that of Leon Belmont.]
I'll go in first.
[He looks at Trevor with a grim face which cracks into a thin smile.]
Sturdier.
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He double checks the handle (there's rust on it, not silver, or at least not any kind of silver pure enough to be a danger) and looks in through the windows (a normal kitchen, by all appearances, if one lacking all the wonderful things that the castle has. Familiar, almost. Like Leon's idea of what a home ought to be came from this place). Behind them, ice swirls around Sypha's fingers. ]
Looks safe enough. Go on, then.
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Passing through the kitchen, Alucard takes no chances. His concentration is on his sword, ready to unsheathe and attack if need be. He knows full well that if there are traps (there should be, knowing his father) then it will not be upon walking in.
The kitchen is older. Simpler. He goes towards the hearth, for if there is a logical place to attack a man coming in from the cold, then it is there.
He is all of five feet away from it when there's a sudden shift in the shadows of the room. It is as if dusk has fallen in the room, and in a moment, the sword is out and hovering in the air.]
As expected.
[He smiles thinly. There's some comfort in predicting this, and soon the doors in the kitchen slam shut.]
Wait for the full of it to set in.
[He calls it out to Trevor and Sypha, because this trap is first meant to scare. THen the worst shall come.]
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Well shit.
[ It's fucking weird - the view outside is still clearly mid afternoon on a cloudless day. But no light seems to come through the window. He does the thing that occurs to him first and also probably the thing most likely to give Alucard grey hairs (because time certainly won't do it).
He takes the handle of the door at the far side of the kitchen, and turns it. And also challenges the house to a fight while he's at it. ]
Hey, you fucking house. Cut that shit out. I'm Leon's. I belong here.
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...then Trevor is trying to yell at the house and that gives him an idea.]
Trevor! Treat it like the journals, use blood on the handle!
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[ They are. They are, it seems, magic developed by the family's oldest enemy. He'll avoid thinking about that later.
For now, despite his denial, he does as he's told and slices into his palm with the knife, placing his hand on the door's handle. It gives, easily, and the daylight returns to the kitchen behind him. A hallway leads ahead. ]
I can honestly say that's the first time someone's decided they want to make me bleed four centuries in advance.
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But Alucard will take satisfaction in the fact the shadows all fade. That his theory is right, and that there is no greater threat ahead. His sword finds it's sheath all too quickly, and he smirks in satisfaction.
Not just at his own success, but at Trevor's comment too. It feels good to be back in this rhythm.]
If it makes you feel better, I don't think that you specifically were anticipated.
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[ He puts his knife away, less because of an understanding that the danger is over and more to press down on one hand with the other to stop the bleeding. He really ought to just have cut his thumb, as he did with the journals. But he was too busy picking a fight with a house to think clearly. At least he won't need to open anything again if the house wants more blood. ]
Congratulations, you're apparently a shittier vampire than the fucking doorknob is.
[ Spend four years with an actual vampire and they don't even make the top fifty list for things that have demanded blood. ]
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They're okay for now, and the kitchen was a good place to start. Alucard inspects it all carefully (it's terribly small, but kitchen design does not appear to have changed much in 400 or so years), with special attention to the foodstores. It seems that in this time capsule, even the summer bounty of food is saved but...
...hm. He wonders something to himself, but is yet to voice it outloud.]
I think we can safely bring our equipment in, then take the horses out to the stables.
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[ He looks to the bloodied door handle again. Leon. Leon was the exception to all of these traps. It made sense - they must have been set while Mathias was still tending Sara, before hope was lost, and at that time Leon would have been coming and going in search of any remedy or doctor he could find. He'd need to be able to enter and leave safely. ]
I'll stable Useless and his friend. [ Ulysses, Sypha corrects. ] And see if this place doesn't have a more sturdy wagon lying around somewhere. Think the two of you can manage bringing in the essentials? I daresay it'll be safe to leave anything we don't feel like bringing in out in the wagon. This place is deserted.
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[It only makes sense that this place will respond to Trevor. The more Alucard considers it, the easier the truth reveals itself: this is the castle's prototype. Wilder spells, less refined, intended for another. Youth and brighter days ahead. Less experience and less a need to make a fortress.]
We can do that. I'm curious to find out if the horses are really there, or if we're just hearing echoes of the past when it comes to other living things.
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[ He grins that stupid shit eating grin that only comes out when things are normal (or when he's pretending that things are normal). ]
I'll let you know.
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Go, we'll see you in a bit.
[Which means that as he and Sypha unpack, Alucard asks about stories again - specifically ones where food is important. There's so many, but even in their briefest forms, Alucard grows more and more concerned about what lies in the kitchen.
He's also deeply pleased he overpacked on food.]
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There is a wagon, not covered but in far better condition than the one they brought. While Alucard and Sypha talk, he explores a little, careful to not get out of yelling range. There is a little dust in the little chapel at the far side of the estate, but only a week or so's worth. He probably wouldn't have even noticed if Alucard weren't so stubborn about keeping the areas of the castle that they lived in practically immaculate.
There is a grave outside it, marked by a simple wooden marker, covered in cut flowers that havn't even started to wilt even after 400 years.
No names on the marker, but it doesn't need one. That would be Sara. Unconsciously, his hand goes to the Morning Star. ]
Horse is real. [ He says on his return. ] Likes feed just as much as either of the others.
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The consequences, it seems, tend to be dire no matter what. And it means that when Trevor walks back in, all the more informed about what these grounds hold, Alucard is starring down a basket of tiny, plump strawberries with complete and utter suspicion. His arms are across his chest, eyes are narrowed, and Sypha's just watching him do this with a mixture of amusement and real concern.
He doesn't even look up when Trevor walks in. He just keeps with this pointless staring contest.]
That's interesting. No people, but animals are fine. I thought I heard a dog earlier as well, was there any sign of one out there?
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[ He frowns, following Alucard's gaze to try to figure out what the problem is. Strawberries. The problem is strawberries. And that is, thankfully, a problem he knows just how to solve. ]
Strawberries pissing you off?
[ Aaaand he grins and reaches out to grab a few. because of course he does. ]
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