[ The prototype doesn't work quite as well as he'd like, which is to say that it fails at the first test. It's a repurposed iron helmet, hammered into a sphere and welded shut by Sypha. Inside, he's placed a pebble and a sealed note for Sypha to test how well the iron fares in obstructing magic. The sealed note is- mostly safe. Sypha can't tell the actual word written upon it. But she can tell describe it in other ways, guessing accurately how many times he folded it and that he did so while the ink was still wet, leaving smudges.
The pebble is the greater failure of the iron, as she can move it about in there with only some stain. It clangs against the sides of the makeshift container.
It's going to need some work.
It is, however, still whole the next day, even as the helmet that they took to make the thing seems to have returned to the armory. Other things, like the bedding from the servant's quarters and Mathias' notebooks, have not been replaced. Materially changing the item seems to be what results in it counting as being 'consumed'.
They can use materials from here and he can safely ascend the stairs now, and that means that a more thorough search is in order to see what they have to work with. None of the rooms upstairs are protected as drastically as Mathias' lab, and Trevor goes first, opening doors with a shallow cut on one thumb.
The rooms that the current door opens to are perhaps the brightest of all of them. The first is a living space, clean but with the air of being well-used. Vases are filled with cut flowers, cushions are worn just enough to have become familiar and comfortable, but not enough to need repair. Wear at the spines of a few of the books in the bookcase indicates that they've been pulled out and replaced many times. A sketchbook lies open on a table, filled with pictures of that yippy dog and of the view from the windows of this room and of two people, one pale-haired and noble and the other darker-haired and impossibly, impossibly kind and warm for who Trevor knows this must be.
There is a second doorway at the opposite side of the room, blocked off by a long curtain. And there is a large cushion on the floor, which the dog immediately runs past them all to flop down on. ]
[Alucard keeps notes on how the house functions. He's brought spare rag paper with them for the task, and their own supply of ink and the like. Everything he writes is in Wallachian, not Latin or Greek or any other scholarly language. They must be able to read this, especially if some ill happens. The margins are messier than the main text, comparisons to the castle mused out. He's always understood the castle's mechanics. He had to in order to build under Gresit. But the development of his father's work, that's a very different beast.
And it all comes from blood.
That's not a surprise.
The particulars of what defines consumed goods are noted too, and while it feels strange to be outside of developing spells with Sypha, Alucard's pleased that Trevor gets to experience the joy of it. Because it is joyful, yelling about this change or that, tones getting louder and louder and more and more delighted to have hit into a solution or furious for a new problem.
Night passes. He makes breakfast in the morning, and then it is upstairs to explore what remains of the house. Alucard moves cautiously behind Trevor, not for alienation in the house but out of lingering concern for the concussion. (Trevor's not a swooning madien, but he will be damned if he misses the opportunity for that joke.) The rooms they've gone through so far are unremarkable, and then, then there is this one.
Alucard lingers in the threshold for a moment or so before walking in. Sypha's looking at the bookcase, and Alucard goes in that direction too. In theory, nothing should be printed. He opens a volume and finds that he's correct: everything here is a handwritten manuscript, produced at stunning cost.]
Doubtlessly. [He places the volume back where it was, eyes trailing over to the second doorway.] Another side room, I'll guess. Status would allow for several apartments before the bedroom.
[ The sketchbook is Sara's, judging by the lack of pictures of her. There had been a portrait a little while ago, her seated delicately a younger version of the Leon whose painting hung within the hold stood behind her, hands resting upon her shoulders. There had been none of Mathias, which made sense enough- he had only been a servant of the house for most of his time here. He had earned a title in the campaigns that he and Leon fought, but that had been not long before everything turned sour.
And so it's strange, to see him captured here mid-laugh, clean-shaven and fangless but still very recognizable. He really had been a dear friend of Sara's, hadn't he? ]
...I remember he shaved it once. Total outrage in the house from both of us.
[And it had taken like, a week or so more to grow it back because vampire magic or some such reason. Sounded like nonsense at the time in truth, and just his father avoiding the fact facial hair grew in slowly for him.
Either way, the sketches are bizarre to look at. Not for the expressions, but for the lack of fangs and the shape of his ears and all the little things that made his father his father.]
Growing it out here would have had much the same effect, I suppose.
[ It's joking, and it's warm, but it's dangerous territory to be joking on. But he has to say something. Because this shit is uncomfortable otherwise, seeing how close the three of them were. There's a familiarity to it, and it's far too easily that he can find himself noting the position of chairs, perfectly placed to watch Leon's training in the courtyard through the window.
He makes another comment about how strange this all is, not quite registering the exact words he says, as he puts down the sketchbook and pulls aside the curtain in the doorway to reveal a bedroom. ]
Only three people in the house. Process of elimination.
[It's said with a humor that Alucard really doesn't feel, not right now. The gravity here is of a different texture than anywhere else in the house, edging into familiar with a texture that shouldn't be there.
The curtain dashes Alucard's hopes of there being another room to buffer and let them prepare for the bedroom. He's not sure what to expect, but Trevor has to go in first. If there's any other nasty surprises in store for them, it's here.]
[ He pushes a thumb against the door to mark it with blood, then enters.
Once again, it is light. An open window allows the wind to tug softly at curtains, and the bottoms of them drag along the ground with a soft scraping noise. The bulk of the room is taken up by a large bed. A rather larger bed than he was expecting, if he was going to be honest. And perhaps he could shrug that off as Sara being related the royalty, of course she would own fancy things.
If it weren't for the fact that there isn't just one set of nightclothes folded at the foot of the bed. There aren't even two, as would be improper (Sara never did live to exchange vows with Leon) but somewhat expected. There are three.
And that takes Trevor aback just a little too much to shrug it off with his usual dry comments and just close the door. Instead he just kind of stares. ]
Uh.
[ Well shit. He's learning exciting new details about the sex lives of Dracula and his great great great grandfather. Aka the actual last thing he wants ever. ]
[Alucard's to the window first, curious about the view and making a point not to focus on the bed. There's a large garden below, the sort of formal garden that would be expected to be on the grounds. There's beautiful blooms down there, and then...
...then the thing that strikes him is the width of the bed. Not what's on it (three pillows) but the size. Strangely enough theirs is bigger (too much sprawling in the summer) but that should not be his first thought. Or second or third.
His eyes catches Trevor's and Sypha's. He's mortified. That's the only thing he has right now. Total horror.
And then he just holds his head in his hands and lets out the most exhausted exhale.]
[ Things make sense, with this. The depth of Leon's hurt at Mathias' betrayal. How Leon and his sons had managed to survive in the early years, before the Estate as as well protected as it was, when Dracula could have removed them with ease. Dracula had suffered them to live, hadn't he? He had allowed them to survive and continue fighting him, because they were Leon's sons and daughters.
(He recalls once drunkenly accusing Alucard of celebrating with his father when they burned. It had been a shitty thing to say at the time, and now it feels shittier and he catches himself wondering if Dracula had mourned, instead.) ]
There's- probably nothing we need in here.
[ And if there is, they can just continue needing it, because he is out. ]
[There's too many layers here. Alucard walks out as quickly as he can, out of the set of rooms entirely and into the hallway because he needs air. Everything they've ever done to try and prevent history from repeating, and here they are. They did it without knowing it.
That's the worst of it. Not knowing. Oh, it explained so much, but it set so many greater fears in Alucard's heart that he was ashamed for it. Becoming his father, that fear's always been there. But now it's deeper and uglier than ever before, and the mere idea of starting a 400 year cycle again makes him sick.
It also casts literally everything about yesterday in the stable in a new light, which is equally awful.]
[ He considers making a comment about that Leon-ghost that Alucard likes to think hates him so much being an immense fucking hypocrite but Maybe Not Appropriate.
For his part, he's not overly concerned with history repeating itself - Alucard isn't going to turn him or Sypha, after all. He's just really, really, immensely freaked out. ]
Bright side, if shit does back to normal at midnight, maybe the horse forgot.
[The words sound absolutely miserable. Air. Outside, outside would be good night now. Alucard looks down at the little yappy dog that's decided to stand next to him instead of anyone else, debating the excuse of taking the dog out after being inside for most of the day.
Both of them would see through the excuse, so what's the point.]
[ It's a simple enough question. And he and Sypha have other things they can distract themselves with so not to think about Leon Belmont's sex life. Resuming tests of the container's prototype seems like a great and productive idea right now. They can give Alucard a few ours to himself while they work on it. ]
[He's grateful. They know to ask, and he's gotten better at telling when he really does need to be alone versus alone as an excuse to not deal with things.
But it's a different kind of departure, because he just goes. Nothing, no touches, just boots scuffing against the stone floor, leading him out and away into the sunlight to just deal with this bullshit revelation.]
[ It's late in the afternoon when Trevor seeks out Alucard. He's had a good few hours to himself, and he ought to at least check up on him. Between them. Sypha and he have a theory that heating the iron enough to fuse the silver against it will allow them to keep the thickness of the metal down (and thus keep the container smaller and easier to hide) while keeping the container resistant to attempts to divine what's inside it. But the high temperatures needed for that risk igniting nearby things without contact, making it highly unsuitable work for indoors. They can continue the work outside tomorrow. And check the lab to see if scorch marks and slightly burned desks are restored to normal by the reset. ]
[At some point, the dog found Alucard sitting on the grass just outside the kitchen and climbed into his lap. A warm little weight, one of the few things not supercharged with emotion right now.
The air's helped beat back some of the most irrational responses to this. Right now Alucard's focus is on the warmth of the afternoon air (a breeze carries both the smell of the garden and smell of the stable in one horrifying scent.) How good it is to have sunlight as an option in his life. What to make for dinner. The precious normal things that he knows weren't thoughts with the other three.
Sypha's still able to break through it and get a sense of what's inside it. And- it's Sypha so of course she fucking can, and warding spells will help, but I still don't like it. We're going to try to fuse the silver onto the iron tomorrow, but it's going to need to be outside.
[ He sighs, but it's the happy kind. The kind that comes from hard work and honest mistakes. ]
Incidentally, we'll get to find out if burned desks replenish themselves tonight.
[ Sorry Alucard, Trevor's many, many generations removed from Leon. You're one generation removed from Mathias. You're the favorite. Dog likes you best. ]
Do things always catch fire when working with her?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-10 11:26 pm
no subject
The pebble is the greater failure of the iron, as she can move it about in there with only some stain. It clangs against the sides of the makeshift container.
It's going to need some work.
It is, however, still whole the next day, even as the helmet that they took to make the thing seems to have returned to the armory. Other things, like the bedding from the servant's quarters and Mathias' notebooks, have not been replaced. Materially changing the item seems to be what results in it counting as being 'consumed'.
They can use materials from here and he can safely ascend the stairs now, and that means that a more thorough search is in order to see what they have to work with. None of the rooms upstairs are protected as drastically as Mathias' lab, and Trevor goes first, opening doors with a shallow cut on one thumb.
The rooms that the current door opens to are perhaps the brightest of all of them. The first is a living space, clean but with the air of being well-used. Vases are filled with cut flowers, cushions are worn just enough to have become familiar and comfortable, but not enough to need repair. Wear at the spines of a few of the books in the bookcase indicates that they've been pulled out and replaced many times. A sketchbook lies open on a table, filled with pictures of that yippy dog and of the view from the windows of this room and of two people, one pale-haired and noble and the other darker-haired and impossibly, impossibly kind and warm for who Trevor knows this must be.
There is a second doorway at the opposite side of the room, blocked off by a long curtain. And there is a large cushion on the floor, which the dog immediately runs past them all to flop down on. ]
Sara's, I imagine.
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And it all comes from blood.
That's not a surprise.
The particulars of what defines consumed goods are noted too, and while it feels strange to be outside of developing spells with Sypha, Alucard's pleased that Trevor gets to experience the joy of it. Because it is joyful, yelling about this change or that, tones getting louder and louder and more and more delighted to have hit into a solution or furious for a new problem.
Night passes. He makes breakfast in the morning, and then it is upstairs to explore what remains of the house. Alucard moves cautiously behind Trevor, not for alienation in the house but out of lingering concern for the concussion. (Trevor's not a swooning madien, but he will be damned if he misses the opportunity for that joke.) The rooms they've gone through so far are unremarkable, and then, then there is this one.
Alucard lingers in the threshold for a moment or so before walking in. Sypha's looking at the bookcase, and Alucard goes in that direction too. In theory, nothing should be printed. He opens a volume and finds that he's correct: everything here is a handwritten manuscript, produced at stunning cost.]
Doubtlessly. [He places the volume back where it was, eyes trailing over to the second doorway.] Another side room, I'll guess. Status would allow for several apartments before the bedroom.
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And so it's strange, to see him captured here mid-laugh, clean-shaven and fangless but still very recognizable. He really had been a dear friend of Sara's, hadn't he? ]
Your dad looks strange without the beard.
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[And it had taken like, a week or so more to grow it back because vampire magic or some such reason. Sounded like nonsense at the time in truth, and just his father avoiding the fact facial hair grew in slowly for him.
Either way, the sketches are bizarre to look at. Not for the expressions, but for the lack of fangs and the shape of his ears and all the little things that made his father his father.]
Growing it out here would have had much the same effect, I suppose.
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[ It's joking, and it's warm, but it's dangerous territory to be joking on. But he has to say something. Because this shit is uncomfortable otherwise, seeing how close the three of them were. There's a familiarity to it, and it's far too easily that he can find himself noting the position of chairs, perfectly placed to watch Leon's training in the courtyard through the window.
He makes another comment about how strange this all is, not quite registering the exact words he says, as he puts down the sketchbook and pulls aside the curtain in the doorway to reveal a bedroom. ]
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[It's said with a humor that Alucard really doesn't feel, not right now. The gravity here is of a different texture than anywhere else in the house, edging into familiar with a texture that shouldn't be there.
The curtain dashes Alucard's hopes of there being another room to buffer and let them prepare for the bedroom. He's not sure what to expect, but Trevor has to go in first. If there's any other nasty surprises in store for them, it's here.]
no subject
Once again, it is light. An open window allows the wind to tug softly at curtains, and the bottoms of them drag along the ground with a soft scraping noise. The bulk of the room is taken up by a large bed. A rather larger bed than he was expecting, if he was going to be honest. And perhaps he could shrug that off as Sara being related the royalty, of course she would own fancy things.
If it weren't for the fact that there isn't just one set of nightclothes folded at the foot of the bed. There aren't even two, as would be improper (Sara never did live to exchange vows with Leon) but somewhat expected. There are three.
And that takes Trevor aback just a little too much to shrug it off with his usual dry comments and just close the door. Instead he just kind of stares. ]
Uh.
[ Well shit. He's learning exciting new details about the sex lives of Dracula and his great great great grandfather. Aka the actual last thing he wants ever. ]
no subject
...then the thing that strikes him is the width of the bed. Not what's on it (three pillows) but the size. Strangely enough theirs is bigger (too much sprawling in the summer) but that should not be his first thought. Or second or third.
His eyes catches Trevor's and Sypha's. He's mortified. That's the only thing he has right now. Total horror.
And then he just holds his head in his hands and lets out the most exhausted exhale.]
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(He recalls once drunkenly accusing Alucard of celebrating with his father when they burned. It had been a shitty thing to say at the time, and now it feels shittier and he catches himself wondering if Dracula had mourned, instead.) ]
There's- probably nothing we need in here.
[ And if there is, they can just continue needing it, because he is out. ]
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[There's too many layers here. Alucard walks out as quickly as he can, out of the set of rooms entirely and into the hallway because he needs air. Everything they've ever done to try and prevent history from repeating, and here they are. They did it without knowing it.
That's the worst of it. Not knowing. Oh, it explained so much, but it set so many greater fears in Alucard's heart that he was ashamed for it. Becoming his father, that fear's always been there. But now it's deeper and uglier than ever before, and the mere idea of starting a 400 year cycle again makes him sick.
It also casts literally everything about yesterday in the stable in a new light, which is equally awful.]
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And oh yes, he is regretting making announcements about vampire-fucking to the horse. ]
So. Leon's journals. They were written years after this, and apparently he left some shit out.
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[Someone just kill him now. Please.]
Probably for reasons of personal distress, which is understandable, but of all the things.
[Of all the things to stumble into and in this way.]
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For his part, he's not overly concerned with history repeating itself - Alucard isn't going to turn him or Sypha, after all. He's just really, really, immensely freaked out. ]
Bright side, if shit does back to normal at midnight, maybe the horse forgot.
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[The words sound absolutely miserable. Air. Outside, outside would be good night now. Alucard looks down at the little yappy dog that's decided to stand next to him instead of anyone else, debating the excuse of taking the dog out after being inside for most of the day.
Both of them would see through the excuse, so what's the point.]
I need to go outside for a moment.
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[ It's a simple enough question. And he and Sypha have other things they can distract themselves with so not to think about Leon Belmont's sex life. Resuming tests of the container's prototype seems like a great and productive idea right now. They can give Alucard a few ours to himself while they work on it. ]
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[He's grateful. They know to ask, and he's gotten better at telling when he really does need to be alone versus alone as an excuse to not deal with things.
But it's a different kind of departure, because he just goes. Nothing, no touches, just boots scuffing against the stone floor, leading him out and away into the sunlight to just deal with this bullshit revelation.]
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Alucard? You still out here?
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The air's helped beat back some of the most irrational responses to this. Right now Alucard's focus is on the warmth of the afternoon air (a breeze carries both the smell of the garden and smell of the stable in one horrifying scent.) How good it is to have sunlight as an option in his life. What to make for dinner. The precious normal things that he knows weren't thoughts with the other three.
He turns his head when Trevor approaches.]
I've been weighed down by the dog.
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[ He sits down near Alucard but not next to him. He took note of that no touching thing. ]
Ready for company again?
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[The dog is also very asleep right now.]
Mmm. I think so.
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[ SHIT EATING GRIN TIME. He tries not to look at Alucard too much, staring at their shitty old wagon instead. ]
The talking kind of company, or the quiet kind?
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[Thank you, Enid. You've ruined every dog naming attempt forever.]
I am unsure. How did things go with experimentation?
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[ He sighs, but it's the happy kind. The kind that comes from hard work and honest mistakes. ]
Incidentally, we'll get to find out if burned desks replenish themselves tonight.
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[Alucard nudges not-Dog gently. Go cuddle with Trevor too.
Dog ain't moving for shit.]
Welcome to the exciting world of experiments with Sypha.
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Do things always catch fire when working with her?
[ Yes. ]
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