[ There are concerning signs. When Sypha holds a frozen palm to the back of his head to reduce the swelling, he asks three separate times why his head is cold. He complains when Alucard tells him to remain alert of needing to splash water on his face, only to look uselessly around for a sink that isn't in this kitchen, as if he thinks he's still in the castle. When Alucard sighs and draws close to kiss his forehead he narrows his eyes with a low, wary 'Fangs, vampire. Away from me.'
He also still isn't capable of walking steadily across the room, apparently Sypha's test for whether he can sleep safely unassisted, by the time that short summer night comes and goes and the hour grows so late that he can't physically remain awake.
It's a powerful paralysis spell that she uses in the end, to immobilize him and keep any injury from becoming worse, and that might have been more distressing even than his brief failure to recall the last four years spent with Alucard. He can't remember why he's being held in place like this, no matter how gently Sypha holds him and whispers that he's safe. His eyes are wild with horror even as the rest of his face seems calm. His fingers twitch only slightly against the spell. Exhaustion finally overtakes him after a half hour of it and he finally falls asleep.
And then the waiting begins. Because he can't be left unattended like this. ]
[Alucard's only satisfaction in this situation is that he's right: Trevor's never had as bad a fall as this before. Cold comfort because the way he acts, the things he forgets hurt far more than any actual injury. It is a thing that he knows not to take personally (the fangs comment stings hardest), but when Trevor is finally asleep, he at least lets Sypha see it. They sit for a while in gentle silence, her hand playing with that one stupid, silly curl that sits near the part in Alucard's hair, and then the sleep watch begins. Sypha first. Then Alucard.
In all likelihood, it's a mistake to still sleep with Trevor in his arms after all the day's comments. Alucard doesn't exactly care at the moment, this entire day has been an emotional roller coaster and he will cling to whatever precious normal things he so chooses, up to and including being literal about it.
[ It isn't the dark cells of the castle, but the warm torchlight of the hold. And it isn't Carmilla watching over this but instead a man and woman. One with Trevor's face, but with a full beard and without the scar, sternness in his eyes rather than defeat. One with no face at all. And it isn't the malice that leads children to tug the legs off insects, but the curiosity that leads them to pin them behind glass.
All else is materially the same.
There are four of them, the tormentors. Three women and one man - clean-shaven and without the scar over his eye and younger, maybe, but still unmistakably Trevor, right down to the quiet acceptance of horrors. The tallest is the one taking the lead and directing the others, a woman with long hair tied into a tight braided bun, silver chain visible beneath her dress and the Morning Star at her hip. Enid is the shortest of the four, carefully taking notes on responses. The other woman moves between following the eldest sister's orders to collect things or hold down the arms or legs or help with this thread and trying to get a response out of Trevor, speaking in a soft and comforting voice.
It's normal. This is how they survive - they trick people. I doubt you're the first to have fallen under his spell.
You did the right thing in the end, that's what matters.
And Trevor only stares impassively down at Alucard, lying on the work table in those horrible silver chains, the eldest sister's hand moving threateningly over the Morning Star if he so much as twitches in a way she doesn't care for. ]
[The Hold, the Hold is something Alucard knows. He's landed by the Index, and he frowns. The Hold isn't a place he goes to when he dreams (and surely he must have fallen asleep at some point, he remembers taking Trevor into his arms and kissing the top of his head before asking Sypha for a pillow.) Lately most dreams have been of gentler moments, or...very raunchy, if he's being honest with himself. A kind change of pace from what dreams were just a few months before.
The voices are new. He doesn't recognize any of them, and he moves forward with trepidation.
He's right to move forward slowly. When he catches even a glimpse of that worktable (there's a flash of golden hair, he doesn't have to look harder. Shit. Fuck.) he ducks back behind the bookcase he was using for cover, feeling every part of himself wrench up in a horrible, horrible way.
It's the head injury he lies to himself. Then he refuses to move, not until there's footsteps going in the opposite direction.]
[ One of the needles gets a loud hiss, and as Enid furiously writes, Trevor's hand goes to Alucard's. Slowly, gently, and it surprises him as much as anyone when it happens. Why did it happen? This is a vampire. He knows that. That's why he brought him here.
The sister next to him snatches his hand back. The tallest of them breathes in deeply, chainmail clicking against itself as she does, and her glare seems to being the temperature of the hold lower and cause the lights to flicker.
Disgusting.
Trevor withers under his eldest sister's judgmental gaze, even as his youngest offers what might have been words of comfort were any of them true. (Vampires have this power over humans. They draw their prey in. They lie to them. There is no shame in falling victim to this terrible spell. Even soiled, he is still loved.). The Morning Star comes down, sharply, with cracking of bone and sizzling of flesh and a horrible roar of agony.
It's only when that sound dies down that Leontine's voice comes again, somehow both serene and filled with a fury that could melt steel.
Listen to that. Clean yourself. Replace every lie he has every spoken with that noise. Replace every filthy touch with the whip. I will not lose my brother to a vampire's spell. ]
[There's too many things piling into Alucard's head at once. Memories of Carmilla, those are at the base of all of this. Every horror he's worked through for the past half year, every moment of that ridiculous thing Trevor invented to help, all the nightmares (every fucking cameo by Leon Belmont in them), they make his stomach fall into the earth below.
Then there's Trevor. Both eyes working. The strangeness of the fact they've still met somehow. (Where's Sypha? Where the fuck is Sypha?) What might have been if there was anything different in the way their lives went. What would have happened had the Belmonts not been seen as heretics. It's nearly wonderful to see him whole, but then the horror of the Morning Star comes home to roost and there's the most important feeling of all: fear of one's life.
He should rescue himself. But then what would four Belmonts make of two of the same dhampir? Would they listen to the fact that this would bring ruin on Wallachia? (You're torturing Dracula's son is a boon not a curse.) No.
[ The Hold is unchanged, but as it grows further away from what Trevor can perceive it becomes less and less real. Even up close, things look like soft-edged shapes, the way they might from far away. Eventually, it all dissolves into a blur.
The sounds grow no less sharp from halfway up the Hold's steps. All that has changes is that Alucard now has a view of himself and the four Belmont siblings from above rather than from the side. He is struggling now, eyes red, claws and fangs out, as Leontine watches on and the youngest sister holds Trevor still. He has to watch. He has to watch. He has to watch, to remember that this is a monster.
The funeral coat. Fetch it.
The eldest speaks, and Enid moves to disagree. Not for Alucard's sake, but because they know full well what that will do. It will give her no new information. They have a vampire close to Dracula's power, Trevor's falling victim to this spell was a blessing in disguise for that - it warrants further study. But the youngest follows the orders of the eldest and leaves Trevor's side, returning with a long coat woven with silver, the kind that the Belmonts dress their dead in to keep them from rising once again. And then there is another voice. A familiar voice. Alucard's. Strained, but unnaturally clear. ]
Release me.
[ The sisters don't seem to have heard it, Enid and Leontine continuing their squabble. Revenge and a swift end to their brother's current humiliating state against pragmatism and all that could be learned from this vampire that can go about by day. Trevor hears it. He doesn't have the key, does he? Enid has the key, carrying it a safe distance from the trapped vampire. His fingers wrap around a silver knife from the work table, and he moves closer to his sister. ]
[He's confined. Confined twice over. He can't get out, he can't get out of the Hold, he can't break free from this place, find some way to alert his mother about this (she must still be alive in this scenario), rely on her instead of his father to find a way out. The panic is raw and wild because the trapped feeling is too familiar, too recent, too everything.
At some point, and not even Alucard can clock it, he slips into his wolf form. It lets him pace the upper part of the Hold with the faintest hope of an advantage here. This family's dog problem could be a blessing in disguise.
But no. He hears himself. He hears that clearness, and he knows what that means. Something very, very stupid is about to happen, and he'll either have to abide it or attack himself for it, in which case this nightmare shall be even worse.
Fuck. Fuck.
He whines, whines louder than he intended, and prays that much was unheard.]
[ The knife isn't needed. Enid doesn't notice the keys slipping from her apron pocket - and that would only make sense in a dream, to be able to steal from one sister without being detected before the eyes of two others. One cuff clicks open, and as all three sisters turn to the source of the sound he drops the small key into Alucard's hand. ]
Remain still.
[ He does. Of course he does. How could he not? This man is so good, so beautiful, the most perfect thing that god ever condescended to give to a world that did not deserve him. He stands like a statue, not turning his head to the side to listen to the yells and screams. Whose screams? He can't quite remember. ]
Do not breathe.
[ He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. He is eighteen, maybe nineteen, and the scar is back and this not Alucard but it is still wearing his face and it is still the most beautiful creature upon the earth and he knows how this ends, he knows how this ends, but he does not care. ]
Compulsion. Compulsion. That means it isn't him, even in any universe where there is family alive, Alucard would never dare. He knows. He knows better, and at this point there's absolutely nothing to loose. He knows this is a dream. This is a nightmare. So let him try and exert some kind of control. Any at all.
He's still a wolf as he leaps down off the part of the library where he's hidden to, and he lands on that horrible fucking table, claws digging into himself. If this thing is him, if it is truly him, then he will recognize himself and know better. Know that compulsion is a thing prohibited, know that this is a dream, know a million other things besides.
He catches Enid's eye. There's a tail wag just for her, just in case there's some part that will see this wolf as a friend instead of a foe.]
[ Enid isn't Enid anymore. The Hold isn't the hold anymore. None of them, none of it, looks like anything real, just hazy dreamstuff. He doesn't remember any of them, because he was not told to remember any of them. He just remembers that they died. That they were under the protection of a Belmont and that they died while he did nothing but hold his breath and wait for his turn to be bitten.
And then there is a wolf upon the vampire, and that- doesn't make sense, to what part of his mind is capable of both thinking despite the compulsion and trying to judge how much sense a dream makes from within. The compulsion is shaken, momentarily, and his burning lungs flood themselves with air.
And perhaps he might have figured this out. That this cannot be Alucard, because Alucard would never do this. That this cannot be his family, because his family are not here.
Perhaps he might have had the next command not come, strained and desperate as the vampire struggles against the wolf. ]
Knife.
[ He still has the knife, doesn't he? And he knows what to do. It will make everything right. Better.
[The world's fuzzy. Alucard can only hope that means this dream is close to done, because they need to wake up. They both do. This, this is horrible, it's too much, and that thing says the worst thing that could ever be uttered.
Tear out the vampire's throat or prevent Trevor from doing something too horrifying for words?
Simple choice.
The wolf leaps to try and intercept the knife.
Then the world is in focus again, Sypha shaking Alucard awake because he was twitching in ways that he ought not to be. His eyes are wid and wild for a moment, then he mutters something about the damn side effects of the spell.
Trevor's still caught up in Alucard's arms. Alucard lets go reluctantly, because that dream might still have some horrible desires and fears that will only be increased when one awakes in a vampire's arms.]
[ He can't move. The knife is gone and he can't move and he can't do as he's told and that is the most horrifying part of this and-
His hands are twitching. His whole body is twitching, straining against the spell. He gives a horrible wailing sound, unable to form words, until Sypha relents and, perhaps unwisely, releases the spell. And then he launches forward as if he's been shot out of a bow. Comments from earlier about feral cats are a little less amusing now as he scrambles forward on all fours, grabbing uselessly at the area slightly to the left of the door before he corrects himself and gets outside into the cool early morning air.
There's the sound of retching for a few seconds, followed by a soft thump. ]
[It all happens too fast. Trevor's awake, Trevor's released from the spell, Trevor is off like a shot for the door and there's the disgusting sound of vomit and thank god the first rays of dawn are starting to peak over the sky.
Alucard doesn't dare move or chase. Sypha waits until all the sick is gone, then walks over to the door. Puts a gentle hand on Trevor's shoulder, because words have failed all three now.]
[ The nightmares aren't new. Fuck, there have been variations on that specific one for the last four years, even if the chains and the torment is a fairly relevant addition. They barely ever even wake him anymore. The paralysis is new. The paralysis he doesn't care for. At all. It makes it worse, makes the sensation of being unable to do anything but what is asked of him so more believable.
He's fallen onto his side when Sypha arrives, still coughing and wheezing with tears in his eyes, mostly from the shortness of breath. ]
Where- [ He starts, before squeezing his eyes closed, trying to roll onto his back but being prevented from doing so. Thankfully this time the answer seems to reach him more quickly. He's getting better at remembering, at least. ] -Shit. Shit.
[Sypha's on her knees, putting Trevor upright. (The instinct is to gather him into her arms but with all of the memory problems, it's not the best idea.) Alucard can see that much, and he hears the whole thing.
Trevor, Sypha's voice is even and so calm. You're awake, it's okay.
Food. He can make breakfast. He goes to the fire and sets about lighting it, trying to make sure that he can hear what's going on just beyond the door.]
[ He can walk by himself now, at least, even if Sypha is hovering close just in case. He's not entirely steady, and he needs to feel ahead to double check that things actually are where he sees them, but he's not in too much danger of falling and injuring himself more badly.
He's quiet, almost sheepish, when he enters, carefully taking a seat. Sypha is brighter, with a strained smile, pretending that this is all normal. ]
Fucking knock to the head giving me fucking weird dreams.
[The fire is ablaze now. Alucard's found a few pokers, so that means toast is the first thing to be made. Sturdy and filling. Because they all need that.
His eyes don't linger on Trevor as he walks back in. Minimal wobble. He'll have to be okay with it and fight the desire to fuss. If his memory is back, then there's nothing more to do than to keep an eye on everything else.
He breathes out, turning the toast.]
It's been known to happen.
[They'll have to talk about it. He knows they will.]
[ The wellwater is off limits, so Sypha improvises. She fills a pail with ice and heats it with fire until it melts, then hands Trevor a cup of it. It takes a few tries to successfully move cup to mouth, but he does manage to drink without aid, and that's an improvement over last night. ]
Shit. We're looking for a four century old vampire relic that's the one thing between Europe and a new Dracula with lower standards. And I'm here throwing the whole thing off by falling down.
[The toast is moved onto plates. Alucard brought eggs that will last for a day or two at most, so those get cooked next. (He went and bought the eggs, but he has been debating the wisdom of just keeping chickens.) Protein. They need that and badly.
He uses the only cast iron pan that's there, and the hearth heats it as he scrambles the half dozen eggs that are put into the pan.]
I blame the stone floor.
[It's fine.]
We'll take the rest of the day easy as well. No point in rushing ourselves.
[ He's at least present enough this morning to remember things that Alucard has made fun of him for in the past, so that's good. ]
Think I scared the little shit off last night when I was yelling. [ Really, it's a wonder he didn't scare off Alucard and Sypha last night as well. He gives it a moment while he tries to put his fingers to his lips (only two tries needed, that time) and then whistles. There's an answering yip and the distant scramble of tiny claws on the floor somewhere upstairs. ]
...Mmm, yeah, this one's on the interior decorator, I think.
[It's a thin joke. The smile that goes with it is fragile. But it is there, and in a few more moments there's three plates full of food being brought over to the table. The tiniest shred of normalcy for all three.]
Family lore doesn't mention a name for this dog, does it?
[They will not call it Dog. But the little thing is as welcome as can be whenever it darts into the kitchen.]
[ It's tempting to laugh at how frustrated Enid would be about an important family dog's name being lost to history. But considering the previous nightmare- perhaps not right now. ]
None that I know of.
[ He tears a crust from one of the slices of toast, dipping it in egg yolk and offering it to the dog when it rushes in excitedly, overshooting the three of them by a few feet and then scrambling back to take it ]
Servant's quarters and the rest of the rooms downstairs, today? Or upstairs?
Servant's quarters. Less dangers there, most likely.
[Alucard wants to take the day off entirely, but that's not going to happen. Head injury or no, they don't know how much time is left before whatever fools have decided to unleash an ancient evil on this side of Europe.
He eats quickly. Then gets to his feet, because there's one other chore to do before the work begins anew.]
I'm going to check on the horses.
[There's a few little bits of egg left on his plate. He places it down for the little thing, just in case Trevor's gifts aren't enough.]
[ And that's mostly true. The fresh air is probably useful, and the morning chill makes him feel more alert. May as well take advantage of it before the late summer heat arrives for the day. ]
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He also still isn't capable of walking steadily across the room, apparently Sypha's test for whether he can sleep safely unassisted, by the time that short summer night comes and goes and the hour grows so late that he can't physically remain awake.
It's a powerful paralysis spell that she uses in the end, to immobilize him and keep any injury from becoming worse, and that might have been more distressing even than his brief failure to recall the last four years spent with Alucard. He can't remember why he's being held in place like this, no matter how gently Sypha holds him and whispers that he's safe. His eyes are wild with horror even as the rest of his face seems calm. His fingers twitch only slightly against the spell. Exhaustion finally overtakes him after a half hour of it and he finally falls asleep.
And then the waiting begins. Because he can't be left unattended like this. ]
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In all likelihood, it's a mistake to still sleep with Trevor in his arms after all the day's comments. Alucard doesn't exactly care at the moment, this entire day has been an emotional roller coaster and he will cling to whatever precious normal things he so chooses, up to and including being literal about it.
He remembers the effects of sleep spells too.
He doesn't care.]
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All else is materially the same.
There are four of them, the tormentors. Three women and one man - clean-shaven and without the scar over his eye and younger, maybe, but still unmistakably Trevor, right down to the quiet acceptance of horrors. The tallest is the one taking the lead and directing the others, a woman with long hair tied into a tight braided bun, silver chain visible beneath her dress and the Morning Star at her hip. Enid is the shortest of the four, carefully taking notes on responses. The other woman moves between following the eldest sister's orders to collect things or hold down the arms or legs or help with this thread and trying to get a response out of Trevor, speaking in a soft and comforting voice.
It's normal. This is how they survive - they trick people. I doubt you're the first to have fallen under his spell.
You did the right thing in the end, that's what matters.
And Trevor only stares impassively down at Alucard, lying on the work table in those horrible silver chains, the eldest sister's hand moving threateningly over the Morning Star if he so much as twitches in a way she doesn't care for. ]
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The voices are new. He doesn't recognize any of them, and he moves forward with trepidation.
He's right to move forward slowly. When he catches even a glimpse of that worktable (there's a flash of golden hair, he doesn't have to look harder. Shit. Fuck.) he ducks back behind the bookcase he was using for cover, feeling every part of himself wrench up in a horrible, horrible way.
It's the head injury he lies to himself. Then he refuses to move, not until there's footsteps going in the opposite direction.]
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The sister next to him snatches his hand back. The tallest of them breathes in deeply, chainmail clicking against itself as she does, and her glare seems to being the temperature of the hold lower and cause the lights to flicker.
Disgusting.
Trevor withers under his eldest sister's judgmental gaze, even as his youngest offers what might have been words of comfort were any of them true. (Vampires have this power over humans. They draw their prey in. They lie to them. There is no shame in falling victim to this terrible spell. Even soiled, he is still loved.). The Morning Star comes down, sharply, with cracking of bone and sizzling of flesh and a horrible roar of agony.
It's only when that sound dies down that Leontine's voice comes again, somehow both serene and filled with a fury that could melt steel.
Listen to that. Clean yourself. Replace every lie he has every spoken with that noise. Replace every filthy touch with the whip. I will not lose my brother to a vampire's spell. ]
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Then there's Trevor. Both eyes working. The strangeness of the fact they've still met somehow. (Where's Sypha? Where the fuck is Sypha?) What might have been if there was anything different in the way their lives went. What would have happened had the Belmonts not been seen as heretics. It's nearly wonderful to see him whole, but then the horror of the Morning Star comes home to roost and there's the most important feeling of all: fear of one's life.
He should rescue himself. But then what would four Belmonts make of two of the same dhampir? Would they listen to the fact that this would bring ruin on Wallachia? (You're torturing Dracula's son is a boon not a curse.) No.
The Hold's layout hasn't changed.
Alucard runs.]
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The sounds grow no less sharp from halfway up the Hold's steps. All that has changes is that Alucard now has a view of himself and the four Belmont siblings from above rather than from the side. He is struggling now, eyes red, claws and fangs out, as Leontine watches on and the youngest sister holds Trevor still. He has to watch. He has to watch. He has to watch, to remember that this is a monster.
The funeral coat. Fetch it.
The eldest speaks, and Enid moves to disagree. Not for Alucard's sake, but because they know full well what that will do. It will give her no new information. They have a vampire close to Dracula's power, Trevor's falling victim to this spell was a blessing in disguise for that - it warrants further study. But the youngest follows the orders of the eldest and leaves Trevor's side, returning with a long coat woven with silver, the kind that the Belmonts dress their dead in to keep them from rising once again. And then there is another voice. A familiar voice. Alucard's. Strained, but unnaturally clear. ]
Release me.
[ The sisters don't seem to have heard it, Enid and Leontine continuing their squabble. Revenge and a swift end to their brother's current humiliating state against pragmatism and all that could be learned from this vampire that can go about by day. Trevor hears it. He doesn't have the key, does he? Enid has the key, carrying it a safe distance from the trapped vampire. His fingers wrap around a silver knife from the work table, and he moves closer to his sister. ]
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At some point, and not even Alucard can clock it, he slips into his wolf form. It lets him pace the upper part of the Hold with the faintest hope of an advantage here. This family's dog problem could be a blessing in disguise.
But no. He hears himself. He hears that clearness, and he knows what that means. Something very, very stupid is about to happen, and he'll either have to abide it or attack himself for it, in which case this nightmare shall be even worse.
Fuck. Fuck.
He whines, whines louder than he intended, and prays that much was unheard.]
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Remain still.
[ He does. Of course he does. How could he not? This man is so good, so beautiful, the most perfect thing that god ever condescended to give to a world that did not deserve him. He stands like a statue, not turning his head to the side to listen to the yells and screams. Whose screams? He can't quite remember. ]
Do not breathe.
[ He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. He is eighteen, maybe nineteen, and the scar is back and this not Alucard but it is still wearing his face and it is still the most beautiful creature upon the earth and he knows how this ends, he knows how this ends, but he does not care. ]
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Compulsion. Compulsion. That means it isn't him, even in any universe where there is family alive, Alucard would never dare. He knows. He knows better, and at this point there's absolutely nothing to loose. He knows this is a dream. This is a nightmare. So let him try and exert some kind of control. Any at all.
He's still a wolf as he leaps down off the part of the library where he's hidden to, and he lands on that horrible fucking table, claws digging into himself. If this thing is him, if it is truly him, then he will recognize himself and know better. Know that compulsion is a thing prohibited, know that this is a dream, know a million other things besides.
He catches Enid's eye. There's a tail wag just for her, just in case there's some part that will see this wolf as a friend instead of a foe.]
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And then there is a wolf upon the vampire, and that- doesn't make sense, to what part of his mind is capable of both thinking despite the compulsion and trying to judge how much sense a dream makes from within. The compulsion is shaken, momentarily, and his burning lungs flood themselves with air.
And perhaps he might have figured this out. That this cannot be Alucard, because Alucard would never do this. That this cannot be his family, because his family are not here.
Perhaps he might have had the next command not come, strained and desperate as the vampire struggles against the wolf. ]
Knife.
[ He still has the knife, doesn't he? And he knows what to do. It will make everything right. Better.
He brings it to his neck, and the dream ends. ]
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Tear out the vampire's throat or prevent Trevor from doing something too horrifying for words?
Simple choice.
The wolf leaps to try and intercept the knife.
Then the world is in focus again, Sypha shaking Alucard awake because he was twitching in ways that he ought not to be. His eyes are wid and wild for a moment, then he mutters something about the damn side effects of the spell.
Trevor's still caught up in Alucard's arms. Alucard lets go reluctantly, because that dream might still have some horrible desires and fears that will only be increased when one awakes in a vampire's arms.]
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His hands are twitching. His whole body is twitching, straining against the spell. He gives a horrible wailing sound, unable to form words, until Sypha relents and, perhaps unwisely, releases the spell. And then he launches forward as if he's been shot out of a bow. Comments from earlier about feral cats are a little less amusing now as he scrambles forward on all fours, grabbing uselessly at the area slightly to the left of the door before he corrects himself and gets outside into the cool early morning air.
There's the sound of retching for a few seconds, followed by a soft thump. ]
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Alucard doesn't dare move or chase. Sypha waits until all the sick is gone, then walks over to the door. Puts a gentle hand on Trevor's shoulder, because words have failed all three now.]
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He's fallen onto his side when Sypha arrives, still coughing and wheezing with tears in his eyes, mostly from the shortness of breath. ]
Where- [ He starts, before squeezing his eyes closed, trying to roll onto his back but being prevented from doing so. Thankfully this time the answer seems to reach him more quickly. He's getting better at remembering, at least. ] -Shit. Shit.
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Trevor, Sypha's voice is even and so calm. You're awake, it's okay.
Food. He can make breakfast. He goes to the fire and sets about lighting it, trying to make sure that he can hear what's going on just beyond the door.]
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He's quiet, almost sheepish, when he enters, carefully taking a seat. Sypha is brighter, with a strained smile, pretending that this is all normal. ]
Fucking knock to the head giving me fucking weird dreams.
[ He says, as if that explains everything. ]
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His eyes don't linger on Trevor as he walks back in. Minimal wobble. He'll have to be okay with it and fight the desire to fuss. If his memory is back, then there's nothing more to do than to keep an eye on everything else.
He breathes out, turning the toast.]
It's been known to happen.
[They'll have to talk about it. He knows they will.]
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Shit. We're looking for a four century old vampire relic that's the one thing between Europe and a new Dracula with lower standards. And I'm here throwing the whole thing off by falling down.
[ Fuck. ]
Sorry.
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He uses the only cast iron pan that's there, and the hearth heats it as he scrambles the half dozen eggs that are put into the pan.]
I blame the stone floor.
[It's fine.]
We'll take the rest of the day easy as well. No point in rushing ourselves.
[He pauses, then...]
Where has the dog gone?
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[ He's at least present enough this morning to remember things that Alucard has made fun of him for in the past, so that's good. ]
Think I scared the little shit off last night when I was yelling. [ Really, it's a wonder he didn't scare off Alucard and Sypha last night as well. He gives it a moment while he tries to put his fingers to his lips (only two tries needed, that time) and then whistles. There's an answering yip and the distant scramble of tiny claws on the floor somewhere upstairs. ]
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[It's a thin joke. The smile that goes with it is fragile. But it is there, and in a few more moments there's three plates full of food being brought over to the table. The tiniest shred of normalcy for all three.]
Family lore doesn't mention a name for this dog, does it?
[They will not call it Dog. But the little thing is as welcome as can be whenever it darts into the kitchen.]
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None that I know of.
[ He tears a crust from one of the slices of toast, dipping it in egg yolk and offering it to the dog when it rushes in excitedly, overshooting the three of them by a few feet and then scrambling back to take it ]
Servant's quarters and the rest of the rooms downstairs, today? Or upstairs?
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[Alucard wants to take the day off entirely, but that's not going to happen. Head injury or no, they don't know how much time is left before whatever fools have decided to unleash an ancient evil on this side of Europe.
He eats quickly. Then gets to his feet, because there's one other chore to do before the work begins anew.]
I'm going to check on the horses.
[There's a few little bits of egg left on his plate. He places it down for the little thing, just in case Trevor's gifts aren't enough.]
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[ And that's mostly true. The fresh air is probably useful, and the morning chill makes him feel more alert. May as well take advantage of it before the late summer heat arrives for the day. ]
And I do like Useless.
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