[Prophecy isn't a unique concept. They've all been bound by it, only an idiot ignores ancient wisdom. Even if one's parents were scientists. (One of those parents was also a master of the dark arts, after all.) Even if the dream begins in a much too familiar way.
(He'll wake and mutter that this is because he slept in the middle for once instead of his normal spot. He usually sleeps closest to the door out of instinct. Pointless as Trevor has pointed out time and again. Smarter men would come through the windows these days. Instinct remains. And it is nice to have two pairs of warm arms around him with all the additional blankets.)
The study it is. Another night of grief, most likely, because that's what this set up always means. Alucard doesn't wake up from this particular dream anymore, he lets it go where it decides to, then rises to make breakfast. Whatever foul mood he's in for those dreams is gone by the time that all three plates are ready to be devoured.
But this isn't the dream as it usually is. The door is closed most days, because that's how he spends his waking time in the room. Door closed. Memories done in private. (He showed Sypha earlier today. Maybe that's why this is different. She'll say it is later, he's sure.)
And there's his mother. Not acting out the rote motions of memory (she's usually gone by this point when he thinks there's some kind of ghost in the halls), but interacting in dreams.
Which means he isn't there to question logic. Just to ensure that this isn't guilt taking a new and exciting form.]
no subject
(He'll wake and mutter that this is because he slept in the middle for once instead of his normal spot. He usually sleeps closest to the door out of instinct. Pointless as Trevor has pointed out time and again. Smarter men would come through the windows these days. Instinct remains. And it is nice to have two pairs of warm arms around him with all the additional blankets.)
The study it is. Another night of grief, most likely, because that's what this set up always means. Alucard doesn't wake up from this particular dream anymore, he lets it go where it decides to, then rises to make breakfast. Whatever foul mood he's in for those dreams is gone by the time that all three plates are ready to be devoured.
But this isn't the dream as it usually is. The door is closed most days, because that's how he spends his waking time in the room. Door closed. Memories done in private. (He showed Sypha earlier today. Maybe that's why this is different. She'll say it is later, he's sure.)
And there's his mother. Not acting out the rote motions of memory (she's usually gone by this point when he thinks there's some kind of ghost in the halls), but interacting in dreams.
Which means he isn't there to question logic. Just to ensure that this isn't guilt taking a new and exciting form.]
...Mother?
[Soft. Concerned. Uncertain.]