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. ]
[The word is as sharp and as strong a rebuke as Alucard makes when there's life or death on the line. Or someone is about to do something so amazingly stupid he's going to turn purple. In this case, both apply.
He has enough sense in him for an explanation though as he walks over, moving the berries away from Trevor's grasp.]
Sypha's been going through every story she knows about food. We don't think it's safe to eat anything that's in here.
Well, if it's eating someone else's food that's the problem then. The horse that lives here eating our horsefeed makes it entirely this place's problem.
[ Damn if he doesn't still want strawberries, though. They look really good ]
But further in it must be. Alucard nods in quiet agreement to the plan, his eyes drifting to the only door in the kitchen. It leads to a hallway, probably.]
Really? I've always seen you as more of a feral cat.
[Oh, they're going to do this while walking through the family estate. Because there has to be something for them to do to kill all the tension.
There's no more debate of anything. Alucard calls his sword to him, and goes right for the door.
It's....a hallway. One with simple stones on the floor and lit torches, but just a hallway. Short with no other adjoined rooms save for the next door ahead.]
Have you ever run into a feral cat who doesn't care very strongly about everything under the sun?
[ Because Trevor doesn't care, of course. Four years, and he still maintains that, save for the few times when he doesn't. ]
Well, may as well get this over with if there's anything here.
[ As they get about halfway in, the door behind them closes, the torches go out, and there's the deafening sound of stone scraping against stone. The walls are closing in. Which would probably be fucking terrifying if they didn't know exactly how to stop that. Trevor pushes past Alucard to reach the other door, holding the still-open cut against it. It's enough, and the noise stops. Sypha relights the torches after a moment of silence and he blinks, getting used to the rapid changes from dark to light. ]
Your dad's an asshole. [ And then, remembering that Alucard has the keenest hearing by far out of the three of them. ] -you okay?
That's every cat. Ferals are just more spirited. And warier. The comparison holds.
[It was a better comparison four years ago. He'll stand by it, if only to make this exploration go by quicker.
Alucard's about to go into a fighting stance against...the walls. And he's absolutely keen to take on the walls, blade pushing against them, all until Trevor rushes past and the blood does the trick.
He sighs.]
Yes, yes he was. [Thank you for that reminder, Trevor}
No worse for wear. You may as well open the next door since you're there. This should be some kind of primary hall, if I'm guessing the layout correctly.
[ He takes the handle and opens the door, making sure to use the cut hand. It's not actively bleeding anymore, not so much as to be a problem, but the motion of wrapping it around the door handle leaves red marks over it. Hopefully that's enough.
The door does, in fact, open into a hall. The first door is already open and looks to lead to personal quarters for servants, and the windows of those rooms flood the hall with light through the open door. A large pair of doors a little way up matches about where he'd expect the main entrance to be. ]
It that case I could be a Feral just-about-anything. A feral hedgehog or-
[ There is one door that demands attention, at the far side of the hall. Or rather it demands no attention, to be ignored. The strange feeling of needing to turn back returns, stronger than ever before, and Trevor can barely look at the otherwise very plain door. ]
You have a point on the topic of hedgehogs, but...
[He's right about the hallway. Good, that means the floor plan is straight forward enough. It's probably...better...to use the servant's quarters. There will be fewer memories there. This place could well reflect well worn paths, just as the castle does. (Alucard has never asked the other two if they also see those echoes. If they do, they've never said so. He is happiest living in ignorance on that topic.
The main entrance is clear. There's a staircase that goes to a second floor, but that's more likely to be for defensive measures than...
...he feels the compulsion too. Hisses when it knocks into him, tries to envelop. It partly succeeds.]
We do that now or we do that at the end. Your call.
May as well- [ God, he can hardly get the words out of his throat. He can hear his own voice in his head, contradicting him. Best to leave it untouched. We shouldn't enter at all. Whatever's in there can't be worth the trouble. ] -first. Don't like it fucking with my head.
[ Physically moving toward the door is easy enough, at first, until he passes the main entrance. After that it feels like walking through thick mud, save for that there's no pulling his feet out from it and it envelops his whole body. There's some kind of resistance. By the time he's nearly at the door he's had to close his eyes, because moving toward it while being able to catch it even in peripheral vision is just about impossible. And then when he tries to open it, his hand just stops a few inches away from the handle.
There's nothing physically stopping him, but he can't move any closer. ]
Alucard-
[ -please push his hand against the door. He can't do it himself. ]
[Sypha's being dragged along by Alucard's hand and not much else. This spell, it's trying to mimic the powers of compulsion without actually being a vampire to do it. A detail worth puzzling over later, because moving through this horrible counterweight demands too much energy.
It's a wonder any of them can fight it. They're used to not leaving doors unturned, maybe that's why any of them can manage at all. Alucard's feet nearly slip on the floor for all his effort, and he's sweating by the time his hand take's Trevor's.]
Understood.
[Alucard knows how much that hand ought to weight. It's like lifting twenty men. He strains as he moves that hand to the door. Nearly collapses from the effort of keeping it pinned there.]
[ Though a red stain starts to spread across the door as he works the cut against the rough wood, nothing happens.
Which is something of a relief, because he can hear how Alucard is having to strain to push his hand against the door, and he knows the vampire's strength. If it had worked, and this had ended and suddenly put them all at the mercy of the amount of force they were putting in to all of this, chances are his left hand would be crushed beyond use for a long time. ]
Shit, nothing.
[ On the other hand, it's a problem, because it's far too late to go back. He's not sure he has the strength left to move his legs, and the difficulty of moving is very swiftly also becoming difficulty breathing. Sypha's eyes are already starting to glaze over, her skin losing its colour. He can feel his heart pumping harder, straining with the effort of continuing to move blood around his body. ]
[One second. Alucard releases Trevor's hand. It falls away so quickly, it's doing what the horrible fucking spell wants. There's either one other way for this to go, or they're all going to retreat. In the hand that has just released Trevor's, he lets his fingernails extend. Claw into his own palm. Bleed on the door.
His father was always possessive. Why wouldn't he put the worst of the work on his own door?
(There is something else here, that his father expected both Belmont and Tepes, but that is too weighty and horrible to consider. It is such a different side to the man, one that doesn't sit right. Even with his mother, Dracula was not like this.)
The door opens without a noise. Alucard collapses in the threshold.
[ Through some combination of herculean effort and an idiot's luck, Trevor manages to fall in such a way as to catch Sypha. He can handle the back of his head smacking against against the stone floor with a horrible crack, god knows his skull is thick enough.
He gulps down air, shaking Sypha's shoulders until she shudders and coughs and finally breathes in, fingertips digging into the cloth of her robes. ]
Fucking hate shit messing with my head.
[ He pushes himself into a sitting position, careful not to roll Sypha off him by doing so, and brings his hand up to that old bite scar at his collar out of habit. Nothing there, of course.
Light flows out from the now- open door. Beyond it is a pair of rooms. The first looks to be a clinic. Bottles and books line every surface. Pages have been torn out of some of them, pinned to walls or shelves and covered with annotations in handwriting that seems to have started careful and artful and grown wild and desperate. Bloodstained cloths and bandages are scattered around the floor and over a bed with bloodied linens.
Attached to the clinic is what appears to be its owners quarters, and it is so immaculate as to seem completely unused. The bed certainly hadn't been used in a long time even before this place fell under its spell.
And there is the dog. The tiny, yappy sort, the kind that might have been useful for ratting if this particular one was not very clearly extremely spoiled. Lying on the blood-covered bed in the clinic, whining sadly but unharmed. It gives a yip of welcome and bounds over to Alucard, sniffing at him and yipping again. ]
[Never mind the vestiges of his father's human life. There's Trevor's skull on the ground making a sound that it should, never, never make and Alucard's pounced over that way to make sure that this isn't something bad. The vampire will fuss over this because head injuries are not something they need right now.]
If you start to feel woozy, you need to tell me immediately.
[That's an order, given his tone. But then the three of them are back on their feet and pushing into the part of the house that resisted them at every step. Alucard moves slowest. He is treading into something truly unknown.
There's...there's something familiar in the clinic. The torn pages, the handwriting, the organization apparently hasn't changed in 400 years. There's a patina of desperation to it in a way much of his father's work never has, but...it echoes those horrible moments between his father's appearance at Targoviste and sending Alucard into a year long recovery. That aches.
The dog is new. And very tiny. He looks down at it, deeply baffled, then over to Trevor.]
I really hope this isn't the origin of your family's dog thing.
I feel woozy. [ It's true, but it's half genuinely doing as he's told and half just being a dick. Think it's just the compulsion, though. Ugh. ] Been a while since one was that bad.
[ It doesn't take a genius to piece together the story here, so Trevor's not too slow to catch on. This is where Mathias must have been trying to tend to Sara. That's why it was so well defended. That's why nothing short of his own blood could open the way in. He crouches down to get a better look at the tiny dog, steadying himself against the doorframe because he's not quite sure he trusts himself to not fall over again. It yips again, licking at his hand when he reaches it out.]
[Alucard spends a good minue or two searching the room, muttering under his breath about someone never sitting down for two seconds, but he finds an abandoned chair in the corner eventually and brings it over for Trevor.]
Sit, at least. I'm not about to rush forth from this place after all the effort we had to put into breaking that barrier.
[He wants out of this place so bad. Everything feels just that littlest bit wrong, looking at the world through the bottom of a glass. Everything is familiar but not, and he is intruding on something he was never even supposed to know about.
The dog, at least, seems to like Trevor. So that's a point in their favor, and they may yet need this little thing to help.]
And while that may be true, I have a certain feeling about this...
[That dog has a nicer collar than some of Alucard's hairties.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
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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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[The word is as sharp and as strong a rebuke as Alucard makes when there's life or death on the line. Or someone is about to do something so amazingly stupid he's going to turn purple. In this case, both apply.
He has enough sense in him for an explanation though as he walks over, moving the berries away from Trevor's grasp.]
Sypha's been going through every story she knows about food. We don't think it's safe to eat anything that's in here.
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[ He does look a little disappointed as the berries get taken away. They looked good. ]
I- uh. Fed the horse that lives here while I was feeding ours. Is that going to be a problem?
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[Sorry Trevor. He agrees, it all did look fantastic. As it is, they at least have all of their food, and a decent enough kitchen.]
...Sypha, do animals get impacted by this?
[Apparently, this one's a mystery.]
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Well, if it's eating someone else's food that's the problem then. The horse that lives here eating our horsefeed makes it entirely this place's problem.
[ Damn if he doesn't still want strawberries, though. They look really good ]
Further in, then?
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[Sorry Sypha. It's worth the mean look.
But further in it must be. Alucard nods in quiet agreement to the plan, his eyes drifting to the only door in the kitchen. It leads to a hallway, probably.]
I'll keep going first.
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[ Surly, work-shy, fond of going off in entirely the wrong direction? They're practically twins. ]
I'll- uh. Follow. And bleed on things as necessary, I suppose.
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[Oh, they're going to do this while walking through the family estate. Because there has to be something for them to do to kill all the tension.
There's no more debate of anything. Alucard calls his sword to him, and goes right for the door.
It's....a hallway. One with simple stones on the floor and lit torches, but just a hallway. Short with no other adjoined rooms save for the next door ahead.]
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[ Because Trevor doesn't care, of course. Four years, and he still maintains that, save for the few times when he doesn't. ]
Well, may as well get this over with if there's anything here.
[ As they get about halfway in, the door behind them closes, the torches go out, and there's the deafening sound of stone scraping against stone. The walls are closing in. Which would probably be fucking terrifying if they didn't know exactly how to stop that. Trevor pushes past Alucard to reach the other door, holding the still-open cut against it. It's enough, and the noise stops. Sypha relights the torches after a moment of silence and he blinks, getting used to the rapid changes from dark to light. ]
Your dad's an asshole. [ And then, remembering that Alucard has the keenest hearing by far out of the three of them. ] -you okay?
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[It was a better comparison four years ago. He'll stand by it, if only to make this exploration go by quicker.
Alucard's about to go into a fighting stance against...the walls. And he's absolutely keen to take on the walls, blade pushing against them, all until Trevor rushes past and the blood does the trick.
He sighs.]
Yes, yes he was. [Thank you for that reminder, Trevor}
No worse for wear. You may as well open the next door since you're there. This should be some kind of primary hall, if I'm guessing the layout correctly.
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The door does, in fact, open into a hall. The first door is already open and looks to lead to personal quarters for servants, and the windows of those rooms flood the hall with light through the open door. A large pair of doors a little way up matches about where he'd expect the main entrance to be. ]
It that case I could be a Feral just-about-anything. A feral hedgehog or-
[ There is one door that demands attention, at the far side of the hall. Or rather it demands no attention, to be ignored. The strange feeling of needing to turn back returns, stronger than ever before, and Trevor can barely look at the otherwise very plain door. ]
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[He's right about the hallway. Good, that means the floor plan is straight forward enough. It's probably...better...to use the servant's quarters. There will be fewer memories there. This place could well reflect well worn paths, just as the castle does. (Alucard has never asked the other two if they also see those echoes. If they do, they've never said so. He is happiest living in ignorance on that topic.
The main entrance is clear. There's a staircase that goes to a second floor, but that's more likely to be for defensive measures than...
...he feels the compulsion too. Hisses when it knocks into him, tries to envelop. It partly succeeds.]
We do that now or we do that at the end. Your call.
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[ Physically moving toward the door is easy enough, at first, until he passes the main entrance. After that it feels like walking through thick mud, save for that there's no pulling his feet out from it and it envelops his whole body. There's some kind of resistance. By the time he's nearly at the door he's had to close his eyes, because moving toward it while being able to catch it even in peripheral vision is just about impossible. And then when he tries to open it, his hand just stops a few inches away from the handle.
There's nothing physically stopping him, but he can't move any closer. ]
Alucard-
[ -please push his hand against the door. He can't do it himself. ]
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It's a wonder any of them can fight it. They're used to not leaving doors unturned, maybe that's why any of them can manage at all. Alucard's feet nearly slip on the floor for all his effort, and he's sweating by the time his hand take's Trevor's.]
Understood.
[Alucard knows how much that hand ought to weight. It's like lifting twenty men. He strains as he moves that hand to the door. Nearly collapses from the effort of keeping it pinned there.]
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Which is something of a relief, because he can hear how Alucard is having to strain to push his hand against the door, and he knows the vampire's strength. If it had worked, and this had ended and suddenly put them all at the mercy of the amount of force they were putting in to all of this, chances are his left hand would be crushed beyond use for a long time. ]
Shit, nothing.
[ On the other hand, it's a problem, because it's far too late to go back. He's not sure he has the strength left to move his legs, and the difficulty of moving is very swiftly also becoming difficulty breathing. Sypha's eyes are already starting to glaze over, her skin losing its colour. He can feel his heart pumping harder, straining with the effort of continuing to move blood around his body. ]
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[One second. Alucard releases Trevor's hand. It falls away so quickly, it's doing what the horrible fucking spell wants. There's either one other way for this to go, or they're all going to retreat. In the hand that has just released Trevor's, he lets his fingernails extend. Claw into his own palm. Bleed on the door.
His father was always possessive. Why wouldn't he put the worst of the work on his own door?
(There is something else here, that his father expected both Belmont and Tepes, but that is too weighty and horrible to consider. It is such a different side to the man, one that doesn't sit right. Even with his mother, Dracula was not like this.)
The door opens without a noise. Alucard collapses in the threshold.
The pressure is gone.]
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He gulps down air, shaking Sypha's shoulders until she shudders and coughs and finally breathes in, fingertips digging into the cloth of her robes. ]
Fucking hate shit messing with my head.
[ He pushes himself into a sitting position, careful not to roll Sypha off him by doing so, and brings his hand up to that old bite scar at his collar out of habit. Nothing there, of course.
Light flows out from the now- open door. Beyond it is a pair of rooms. The first looks to be a clinic. Bottles and books line every surface. Pages have been torn out of some of them, pinned to walls or shelves and covered with annotations in handwriting that seems to have started careful and artful and grown wild and desperate. Bloodstained cloths and bandages are scattered around the floor and over a bed with bloodied linens.
Attached to the clinic is what appears to be its owners quarters, and it is so immaculate as to seem completely unused. The bed certainly hadn't been used in a long time even before this place fell under its spell.
And there is the dog. The tiny, yappy sort, the kind that might have been useful for ratting if this particular one was not very clearly extremely spoiled. Lying on the blood-covered bed in the clinic, whining sadly but unharmed. It gives a yip of welcome and bounds over to Alucard, sniffing at him and yipping again. ]
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If you start to feel woozy, you need to tell me immediately.
[That's an order, given his tone. But then the three of them are back on their feet and pushing into the part of the house that resisted them at every step. Alucard moves slowest. He is treading into something truly unknown.
There's...there's something familiar in the clinic. The torn pages, the handwriting, the organization apparently hasn't changed in 400 years. There's a patina of desperation to it in a way much of his father's work never has, but...it echoes those horrible moments between his father's appearance at Targoviste and sending Alucard into a year long recovery. That aches.
The dog is new. And very tiny. He looks down at it, deeply baffled, then over to Trevor.]
I really hope this isn't the origin of your family's dog thing.
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[ It doesn't take a genius to piece together the story here, so Trevor's not too slow to catch on. This is where Mathias must have been trying to tend to Sara. That's why it was so well defended. That's why nothing short of his own blood could open the way in. He crouches down to get a better look at the tiny dog, steadying himself against the doorframe because he's not quite sure he trusts himself to not fall over again. It yips again, licking at his hand when he reaches it out.]
Hey, we're not the only family with a dog thing.
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Sit, at least. I'm not about to rush forth from this place after all the effort we had to put into breaking that barrier.
[He wants out of this place so bad. Everything feels just that littlest bit wrong, looking at the world through the bottom of a glass. Everything is familiar but not, and he is intruding on something he was never even supposed to know about.
The dog, at least, seems to like Trevor. So that's a point in their favor, and they may yet need this little thing to help.]
And while that may be true, I have a certain feeling about this...
[That dog has a nicer collar than some of Alucard's hairties.]
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