[Alucard has one arm lowly slung across Sypha's middle, hand dangling off the edge of the sofa itself. His other is just sort of smooshed under Sypha's back, because where else is it going to go?]
It'd have to be a tailor in most versions then, for the needle to make sense as a solution.
[He's listening. And the cleverness of the solution sounds terribly familiar too. There's more curiosity in his face than any other emotion, because the story may mirror certain circumstances, but it is also nothing he's heard before.]
...Oh, I think the doors had colors, too! It doesn't make any difference to the story, but the first door was brown, and the second door is yellow.
[But details are important in the oral tradition, so these ones deserve to be cited even if she is delivering a sort of cliffs-notes version of the actual tale.]
The second door also turns into a horrible face full of sharp teeth, and when the girl greets the door, it asks her for "an ear that cannot hear".
No tailoring equipment, but it was something she could easily find around her little town.
[There's also probably an anachronism somewhere in here but guess what, Sypha didn't google to ensure perfect historical accuracy of this thing's presence in 1400s Europe and neither did I.]
Luckily for her, the door was willing to let her go back to the town to fetch it, and come back.
So she brought one back and gave it to the door, and the yellow door devoured it and turned back into a door and swung open again, this time with a red one behind it. And when she approached it, it turned into the most awful face of all, with the biggest mouth and the sharpest teeth, and this one said, "Give me a soul I can hold."
It might be! I don't think it's unheard-of that the prince left hints to the door riddles. He's not mean-spirited, even if his doors do eat a lot of people.
[She's amused, though, and pets his hair as she teases: ]
But that sort of answer is why it's good you are more the type of the handsome prince, and not the clever girl. The door wanted "a soul you can hold", so she took off her shoe and she fed it to the door.
I think it's nice that he read you bedtime stories.
[She wouldn't if she knew the content of those bedtime stories but that's fine. This is fine. It's all fine.]
Yes! She could just as easily have been that as well. Actually, it might almost be a little better that way...
[But anyway.]
Well, so the last door opens and when she passes through, she finds herself in the prince's chambers, which of course are magic, and when she gets there she finds that the handsome prince has been cursed into a big awful monster, with wings and claws and boils all over his body. And before she crosses over the threshold, he tells her that part of his curse is that he must attack and kill anyone who comes to him with even the slightest bit of fear in their heart, and to choose wisely before crossing over.
That seems to be something that stuck with you, Mr. Sleeps-For-A-Year.
[Also because sometimes Alucard's relationship to sleep is just plain funny. Sometimes he sleeps an hour a night; sometimes he knocks out for a week. "Sleep schedules are a problem" could be a prevailing caption of his life even now.]
Well, the point of the doors was to find someone clever enough to see things from different points of view. Someone who could see a monster for something other than a monster.
More than they are now. [He knows, okay. He knows and it's ridiculous, but he's avoided the sleeping for a week thing by and large. It means the other two have to cook for themselves, and that never actually ends well.]
Right, I follow the logic. And doubtlessly our hero did cross the threshold. What happened next?
Well, she kisses him and breaks his curse, of course. He turns back into a handsome prince with hair of gold and a noble face, and she takes him home to the king and queen and there's a lot of kissing and crying and happiness at his return. And then they offer the girl half the kingdom as a reward and she politely says no, thank you, she wouldn't even begin to know what to do with it so it's likely better that the prince just keep it.
[She smiles.]
So then they ask her what she would like, and she thinks about it a minute, and eventually she asks for the privilege of making the royal family's clothes so that her father's shop will always have plenty of business.
[Stories can always end at different points. Alucard shifts a little in Sypha's arms just because he imagines his weight should be at a slightly different angle. It means inching up closer to the crook of her neck, but only by a small margin.]
It'd be awfully silly if they got married after only knowing each other for ten minutes, don't you think? No, she goes back to her work and the prince is so taken with her that he starts making up every excuse he can think of to have her make clothes for him. Then one day, after she's made him a hundred garments and they've grown close from all the visiting, he asks her to make him a fine uniform for a ball, and to make herself a dress to join him at it.
[She moves when he moves, helping to oblige him, wanting to make him as comfortable as she can.]
The first ending is where many would decide to call it a night and conclude the tale. [Where to end things is always just as important as where to begin.
And maybe that's something to consider these days. Alucard thinks of everything wrapped up together, he thinks too damn much. It's why his brain is skilled at weaving together all these different threads, usually with no real benefit to himself.]
But I like this one much more. [It's more tender and sweet. He sighs, content with the conclusion.]
And I suppose if she were a shoemaker's daughter they would make him a lot of shoes.
[But it's good to see him unwinding, especially after his prolonged bout of crying earlier. His sighs are much easier to hear when they're soft and warm like this, and she ducks down a little to press a kiss against his head.]
I suppose someday you'll have to find me a beautiful dress too.
[Who needs that many pairs? The clothing does make more sense in terms of how much a prince might need, and he's applying logic to stories which means he ought to stop.
The kiss feels lovely, but the comment inspires redness in Alucard's cheeks.]
You'd wear something that isn't your robes? [Waitasec.] Or one of my shirts?
If I had something that wasn't my robes or one of your shirts. That's one of the reasons I take your shirts to begin with.
[Not the only reason, but one of them. There's a benign explanation, and then there are ulterior motives.]
Speakers always dress the same, for protection. It makes it harder to tell us apart, especially for the men and the women. So I've never had something like a woman's dress, much less any place to wear one.
And here I thought it was just to make me wonder why I was running out of clean ones so quickly.
[He's kidding. Mostly.]
My understanding of women's garments means that you're more likely than not to feel trapped by clothing. It's generally not as loose as you're used to.
[But there's something else to pick at here, and Alucard lets out a soft snort as he realizes it.]
So you don't want to see me in that sort of a dress.
[All of these protests sound very much like reluctance, Mr. Blushy Red-Cheeks.]
I don't think the point of them is to be comfortable, anyway. Certainly not to fight in, or travel in, or...do anything very useful in. You only ever see them in portraits because I think sitting still is about the only thing they're good for.
[All things considered she could make the educated guess that she probably won't like it, but...well. They're taking time off from adventuring for themselves, anyway, and it couldn't hurt. And it might be a nice distraction for Alucard. And even if the actuality doesn't pan out in the long run, maybe just the fantasy of it is worth it all in itself. Like telling bedtime stories. Like being romantic just for the sake of being romantic.]
If it's not too much trouble.
[...]
Besides, then you'll have more of your shirts back!
[There will be fabric ordered that is custom and probably too rich for any of them, and then there's the actual work of construction, but if the fabric is worth it's salt it can be made into something warm even if Sypha hates the whole thing. A coat or robe for dealing with the draftier parts of the castle, or just something more luxurious for loafing around.
The hand on Sypha's back tugs at the offending shirt.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It'd have to be a tailor in most versions then, for the needle to make sense as a solution.
[He's listening. And the cleverness of the solution sounds terribly familiar too. There's more curiosity in his face than any other emotion, because the story may mirror certain circumstances, but it is also nothing he's heard before.]
no subject
[But details are important in the oral tradition, so these ones deserve to be cited even if she is delivering a sort of cliffs-notes version of the actual tale.]
The second door also turns into a horrible face full of sharp teeth, and when the girl greets the door, it asks her for "an ear that cannot hear".
[She pokes the very tip of his nose.]
Can you think of how she got past this one?
no subject
Does it involve more tailoring equipment, or do I need to expand beyond that particular box?
no subject
[There's also probably an anachronism somewhere in here but guess what, Sypha didn't google to ensure perfect historical accuracy of this thing's presence in 1400s Europe and neither did I.]
Luckily for her, the door was willing to let her go back to the town to fetch it, and come back.
no subject
[Well, fuck it. Alucard will let the cleverness be off his back this time, and he nudges Sypha gently.]
What was it then?
no subject
[Happyclaps.]
So she brought one back and gave it to the door, and the yellow door devoured it and turned back into a door and swung open again, this time with a red one behind it. And when she approached it, it turned into the most awful face of all, with the biggest mouth and the sharpest teeth, and this one said, "Give me a soul I can hold."
no subject
[Oh. Oh the happyclaps are the best. Always have been even if they sometimes mean dropping a castle on top of a basement.]
Hm. That seems like the kind of self-sacrifice door.
no subject
[She's amused, though, and pets his hair as she teases: ]
But that sort of answer is why it's good you are more the type of the handsome prince, and not the clever girl. The door wanted "a soul you can hold", so she took off her shoe and she fed it to the door.
no subject
[Enjoy that mental image Sypha.]
Mm, so in other versions, she could also be the daughter of a shoemaker and the effect is much the same.
[This counts as clever, right?]
no subject
[She wouldn't if she knew the content of those bedtime stories but that's fine. This is fine. It's all fine.]
Yes! She could just as easily have been that as well. Actually, it might almost be a little better that way...
[But anyway.]
Well, so the last door opens and when she passes through, she finds herself in the prince's chambers, which of course are magic, and when she gets there she finds that the handsome prince has been cursed into a big awful monster, with wings and claws and boils all over his body. And before she crosses over the threshold, he tells her that part of his curse is that he must attack and kill anyone who comes to him with even the slightest bit of fear in their heart, and to choose wisely before crossing over.
no subject
[And so easily messed up when Lisa was away.
But back to stories.]
This prince strikes me as far too overdramatic. And I am aware of the richness of that statement.
no subject
[Also because sometimes Alucard's relationship to sleep is just plain funny. Sometimes he sleeps an hour a night; sometimes he knocks out for a week. "Sleep schedules are a problem" could be a prevailing caption of his life even now.]
Well, the point of the doors was to find someone clever enough to see things from different points of view. Someone who could see a monster for something other than a monster.
no subject
Right, I follow the logic. And doubtlessly our hero did cross the threshold. What happened next?
no subject
[She smiles.]
So then they ask her what she would like, and she thinks about it a minute, and eventually she asks for the privilege of making the royal family's clothes so that her father's shop will always have plenty of business.
no subject
[Stories can always end at different points. Alucard shifts a little in Sypha's arms just because he imagines his weight should be at a slightly different angle. It means inching up closer to the crook of her neck, but only by a small margin.]
They never interact again outside of her work?
no subject
[She moves when he moves, helping to oblige him, wanting to make him as comfortable as she can.]
Then they declare their love and get married.
no subject
And maybe that's something to consider these days. Alucard thinks of everything wrapped up together, he thinks too damn much. It's why his brain is skilled at weaving together all these different threads, usually with no real benefit to himself.]
But I like this one much more. [It's more tender and sweet. He sighs, content with the conclusion.]
no subject
[But it's good to see him unwinding, especially after his prolonged bout of crying earlier. His sighs are much easier to hear when they're soft and warm like this, and she ducks down a little to press a kiss against his head.]
I suppose someday you'll have to find me a beautiful dress too.
no subject
[Who needs that many pairs? The clothing does make more sense in terms of how much a prince might need, and he's applying logic to stories which means he ought to stop.
The kiss feels lovely, but the comment inspires redness in Alucard's cheeks.]
You'd wear something that isn't your robes? [Waitasec.] Or one of my shirts?
[Which are clearly too big on her.]
no subject
[Not the only reason, but one of them. There's a benign explanation, and then there are ulterior motives.]
Speakers always dress the same, for protection. It makes it harder to tell us apart, especially for the men and the women. So I've never had something like a woman's dress, much less any place to wear one.
no subject
[He's kidding. Mostly.]
My understanding of women's garments means that you're more likely than not to feel trapped by clothing. It's generally not as loose as you're used to.
[But there's something else to pick at here, and Alucard lets out a soft snort as he realizes it.]
It's not as if we ever go somewhere nice.
no subject
[All of these protests sound very much like reluctance, Mr. Blushy Red-Cheeks.]
I don't think the point of them is to be comfortable, anyway. Certainly not to fight in, or travel in, or...do anything very useful in. You only ever see them in portraits because I think sitting still is about the only thing they're good for.
no subject
[He's just thinking ahead!]
If...if you really like, I could try and see what I can do.
no subject
[All things considered she could make the educated guess that she probably won't like it, but...well. They're taking time off from adventuring for themselves, anyway, and it couldn't hurt. And it might be a nice distraction for Alucard. And even if the actuality doesn't pan out in the long run, maybe just the fantasy of it is worth it all in itself. Like telling bedtime stories. Like being romantic just for the sake of being romantic.]
If it's not too much trouble.
[...]
Besides, then you'll have more of your shirts back!
no subject
[There will be fabric ordered that is custom and probably too rich for any of them, and then there's the actual work of construction, but if the fabric is worth it's salt it can be made into something warm even if Sypha hates the whole thing. A coat or robe for dealing with the draftier parts of the castle, or just something more luxurious for loafing around.
The hand on Sypha's back tugs at the offending shirt.]
And yes, I'd quite like them back too.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)