[The first tragedy: Sypha is not, in fact, still under his chin, as this appears to be the 1% of the time when he has been foiled in his estimation. It appears she has, however, sought to make amends in her absence, if the fact that he seems to have wound up with a pillow nestled in his arms and tucked under his chin in a similarly Sypha-ish way is any indication.
The bedroom is empty. The castle is silent. The windows are allowing in a healthy amount of sunlight and —
Actually, scratch that, the castle isn't silent.
Because there, distantly, is the sound of Sypha's voice, a little urgent and faintly chiding — It is not going to be much of a surprise if it's too burnt to put on a plate!]
[Well. Waking up in this bed alone is a new experience. Deeply worrying as well, as Alucard pulls himself up out of the blankets that have since been piled atop him, and neither of the two are even in the same room.
He doesn't hear anything until he's in the hallway, suspecting that if the two are anywhere, it may well be the kitchen. Maybe they're just waiting for him to show up, or at least that's the assumption until he hears Sypha's voice and...
...oh God, they're trying to cook.
Maybe it's a stupid use of vampire speed. No, scratch that, it's a stupid use of vampire speed, but Alucard's in the door frame of the kitchen within seconds, unsure what to expect.]
— sure you're supposed to turn them over before the edges start to — Alucard!
[Okay, well, that was terrifying, one second there was nothing in the door and now suddenly there is a bae in the doorway, looking beautifully sleep-rumpled and handsome and bite-able.
And meanwhile here in the kitchen there is Trevor, burning the living daylights out of what were probably supposed to be a pan of fried eggs, and Sypha hovering nearby to presumably Armchair Iron Chef this travesty.]
Good morning. Thank you both for getting the fire started.
[Because advanced wood burning stove technology or just 15th century hearth fires, the fire part's important.
Just as important is the smell. A smell that's deeply offensive, based on how Alucard's nose just recoils once a whiff of it hits him. Walking in and peering over Trevor's shoulder reveals exactly what happened and you know what?
He's not going to question any of this. It's hardly the point.]
[Trevor grumbles something along the lines of you can go back to bed and stop spoiling the fucking surprise, but there's no particular teeth in the remark, just the sort of vague irritation that's probably more directed at the eggs than at Alucard himself.
Sypha, on the other hand, is not content to start her day without her mandatory morning hug, and this seems like as good of a time as any to get it, so over she goes, walking pretty much directly into Alucard's side with expectant deliberation.]
It's not like you to sleep so long, so we thought you might not be feeling well...
That cat is so firmly out of the bag that I don't think the bag exists anymore. Please just. Take that pan off the stove before the egg becomes a part of it, please.
[Cast iron cannot be killed but leave it to a Belmont to try. Either way, Sypha's got a point. The side hug becomes a proper one after just a moment of shifting around, and there's a soft dhampir kiss to the top of her head too.]
I'm fine. I was simply having a much needed conversation.
[Is he smiling at some weird inside joke? Sure is. And looking a bit too sentimental about it as well.]
With your pillow? I never knew you were one for pillow talk, Alucard.
[So long as Sypha is getting her hug, all is right with the world. Except for the part about Trevor making one last valiant effort to gouge the egg off of the surface of the skillet before surrendering to the inevitable and dumping the whole thing into the dishpan instead, smoking egg refuse and all.]
[It's on fire, Trevor insists with the matter-of-fact certainty of someone who has absolutely no idea what he's talking about. You put things that are on fire in water. Then they're not on fire anymore.]
We're not defeated! We're just, um. Still developing a strategy!
[He is so not about to have this fight. Alucard walks over and plucks the pan out of the sink, and just leaves it on the counter for the time being. There's still steam coming off the thing in a bad way, but it was only in the water for a few moments. The pan will be fine.]
You both realize that the reason I do so is apparent before you, correct?
[He's smiling when he asks the question though. It's such a sweet gesture.]
[That's a nice way of taking a shit on our cooking, Trevor observes, without denying that Alucard is, in fact, entirely correct.
Sypha, however, appears to still be in that phase of morning sleepiness that she doesn't want to be without physical contact for too long, and so when Alucard goes to take care of the pan, she naturally gravitates back to Trevor, winding up leaning against his shoulder in the cuddliest of fashions.]
We were going to try scrambled, but we couldn't remember the proportion of eggs to milk.
[Translation: they already did try scrambled and got the proportion wrong, and threw that out and tried to save it with fried.]
[He worries. He does, and this is just going to start over from scratch in every way. First thing he starts off doing is drying the poor pan out, and then using Vampire Nails to remove the offending and abused egg from the surface.]
Half of one of our cups per-egg, for future reference. Both of you sit, you've been working hard enough as it is.
[We're still alive, aren't we? Trevor grumps, but opts to make himself useful by picking up Sypha and carrying her out of the way of Alucard's kitchen wizardry. It prompts a hint of a squeal out of her, but soon enough Trevor's dropped himself into a chair and dragged Sypha into his lap with him, which means she's back to getting her recommended morning's dose of cuddling while they set up to play audience for the show.]
It still doesn't seem very fair, though, that you have to cook your own surprise breakfast.
Between the dream and this, I think I'm good on surprises for at least two months.
[There's warmth in his voice at that, and it's impossible to stop the smile that crosses Alucard's face when he sees the exact position the two have settled into. It's enough of a sight that he'd prefer to admire it for a minue or two, but food and they're probably hungrier than he is. So Alucard's eyes linger for just a moment, before he goes and gets half a dozen eggs (two each) begins cooking in earnest.]
[Which, of course, really just prompts him to dig it further into her side, even as she squirms and he play-wrestles her until they're some semblance of comfortably settled again.]
And just how long is "a bit" before you explain this dream of yours, exactly? You can't keep mentioning it but then keeping us in suspense!
[Alucard doesn't have to turn around to know what's going on. He has witnessed the War of the Elbows many times (he has defended his own honor in quite a few), and there's a regular pattern to it all.
He has the eggs in the pan and is working on them by the time the war's over. While he works, he begins to explain.]
Well, I wasn't very well going to talk over you two while you were doing that, now was I?
[The eggs are done. He takes them off the stove, the rest of the cooking done by the pan's remaining heat, and then he goes for the bread box. Good, crusty rye for toast. A bread knife lives in that box, so he takes that out too.]
I had an actual, lucid conversation with my mother. Not just a replay of memories.
[Well, that shuts the two of them up fast. Especially because Alucard really isn't one to be given to whimsical fantasies when it comes to something like this, which means the natural logical conclusion is that he's not describing a fantasy at all, but a reality.
And that's...well, that's just...]
In...in your dreams?
[She glances at Trevor, who looks just as perplexed and at a loss as she feels herself.]
We did spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out the mechanics.
[Nerds. He comes from a line of nerds. Sure, one was a vampire king for centuries, but still a goddamn nerd.]
I'm sleeping in between the two of you again this evening. To test at least one theory.
[The bread, once sliced, gets stuck onto a long skewer. Alucard then walks over to the fire box for the stove, opens it, and sticks the stake-o-bread in for just a few quick moments.
The toast gets pulled out seconds later, and maybe the most remarkable part of all of this is the total lack of grief around Alucard as he's discussing this. A thawing well. Slow and sure.]
That would lend itself to some very interesting magical questions, if the simple act of sleeping between Trevor and I is what caused something like that...
[Hypothesis: can she and Trevor summon back the dead by creating some sort of weird magical resonance that acts on whatever is dropped in-between them. WILD.]
...Alucard, you're...sure it was her? From the way she spoke, and the things she said to you...?
Notes for repairing the castle! That's...very specific! But it would also be immensely helpful, considering how broken it happens to be, at the moment...
[Because you broke it, Trevor reminds her, helpfully.]
[Alucard can only nod in agreement with a reminder of whose fault it is, but he at least has the good sense to turn around and remove the toast and get it all on plates. Eggs too.]
We can focus on that part later. The point is, the dream was much realer than it ought to have been, and I put stock in it.
[And that's what kept you in bed until halfway to noon, Trevor sums up, because Trevor has priorities. Trevor also has a mighty hunger, just as Sypha does, and as food starts coming off of the stove and onto serving plates, their attention abruptly piques and hones in on the dishes in Alucard's hands.]
Well. Even if it is, it's good to see you so happy. You don't look even the slightest bit gloomy!
[She doesn't mean to imply the for once that's suggested on the end of that, but it's probably there anyway.]
[Trevor is rewarded with a stink eye for the comment, but the food gets put down on the table all the same. The other two will have to untangle themselves to actually come and eat, so Alucard sits himself in the chair that will let him see that particular process unfold.
...but really, Sypha. He heard that implied for once. He's not going to call her for it though. Better approach: distract.]
Do your people have anything in your histories about distinguishing true dreams from the more mundane ones?
[What follows is the very definition of a tragedy: the food is out of reach, but to get it, Sypha would have to abandon her comfortable cuddle huddle. Thus no matter what she does, she is deprived and that's terrible.
Trevor, on the other hand, knows what he's about, and what he's about right now is breakfast. So Sypha ends up lifted and carried over to the table, where she can be comfortably deposited in a chair of her own before Trevor claims one within reach of the breakfast plates.]
Mm...that depends. Do you mean distinguishing them while you are having them, or after the fact, once you've woken up?
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The bedroom is empty. The castle is silent. The windows are allowing in a healthy amount of sunlight and —
Actually, scratch that, the castle isn't silent.
Because there, distantly, is the sound of Sypha's voice, a little urgent and faintly chiding — It is not going to be much of a surprise if it's too burnt to put on a plate!]
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He doesn't hear anything until he's in the hallway, suspecting that if the two are anywhere, it may well be the kitchen. Maybe they're just waiting for him to show up, or at least that's the assumption until he hears Sypha's voice and...
...oh God, they're trying to cook.
Maybe it's a stupid use of vampire speed. No, scratch that, it's a stupid use of vampire speed, but Alucard's in the door frame of the kitchen within seconds, unsure what to expect.]
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[Okay, well, that was terrifying, one second there was nothing in the door and now suddenly there is a bae in the doorway, looking beautifully sleep-rumpled and handsome and bite-able.
And meanwhile here in the kitchen there is Trevor, burning the living daylights out of what were probably supposed to be a pan of fried eggs, and Sypha hovering nearby to presumably Armchair Iron Chef this travesty.]
...Good morning!
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[Because advanced wood burning stove technology or just 15th century hearth fires, the fire part's important.
Just as important is the smell. A smell that's deeply offensive, based on how Alucard's nose just recoils once a whiff of it hits him. Walking in and peering over Trevor's shoulder reveals exactly what happened and you know what?
He's not going to question any of this. It's hardly the point.]
How can I help?
[PLEASE LET HIM HELP.]
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Sypha, on the other hand, is not content to start her day without her mandatory morning hug, and this seems like as good of a time as any to get it, so over she goes, walking pretty much directly into Alucard's side with expectant deliberation.]
It's not like you to sleep so long, so we thought you might not be feeling well...
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[Cast iron cannot be killed but leave it to a Belmont to try. Either way, Sypha's got a point. The side hug becomes a proper one after just a moment of shifting around, and there's a soft dhampir kiss to the top of her head too.]
I'm fine. I was simply having a much needed conversation.
[Is he smiling at some weird inside joke? Sure is. And looking a bit too sentimental about it as well.]
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[So long as Sypha is getting her hug, all is right with the world. Except for the part about Trevor making one last valiant effort to gouge the egg off of the surface of the skillet before surrendering to the inevitable and dumping the whole thing into the dishpan instead, smoking egg refuse and all.]
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[Having two very different conversations is hard.]
I'll explain in a bit. Should I just let you two accept defeat at the hands of the kitchen and restart all of this?
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We're not defeated! We're just, um. Still developing a strategy!
[Nice save, Sypha, I'm sure everyone believes you.]
The point was that you wouldn't have to cook, though, because you always do...
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You both realize that the reason I do so is apparent before you, correct?
[He's smiling when he asks the question though. It's such a sweet gesture.]
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Sypha, however, appears to still be in that phase of morning sleepiness that she doesn't want to be without physical contact for too long, and so when Alucard goes to take care of the pan, she naturally gravitates back to Trevor, winding up leaning against his shoulder in the cuddliest of fashions.]
We were going to try scrambled, but we couldn't remember the proportion of eggs to milk.
[Translation: they already did try scrambled and got the proportion wrong, and threw that out and tried to save it with fried.]
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[He worries. He does, and this is just going to start over from scratch in every way. First thing he starts off doing is drying the poor pan out, and then using Vampire Nails to remove the offending and abused egg from the surface.]
Half of one of our cups per-egg, for future reference. Both of you sit, you've been working hard enough as it is.
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It still doesn't seem very fair, though, that you have to cook your own surprise breakfast.
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[There's warmth in his voice at that, and it's impossible to stop the smile that crosses Alucard's face when he sees the exact position the two have settled into. It's enough of a sight that he'd prefer to admire it for a minue or two, but food and they're probably hungrier than he is. So Alucard's eyes linger for just a moment, before he goes and gets half a dozen eggs (two each) begins cooking in earnest.]
Comfy enough?
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[Which, of course, really just prompts him to dig it further into her side, even as she squirms and he play-wrestles her until they're some semblance of comfortably settled again.]
And just how long is "a bit" before you explain this dream of yours, exactly? You can't keep mentioning it but then keeping us in suspense!
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He has the eggs in the pan and is working on them by the time the war's over. While he works, he begins to explain.]
Well, I wasn't very well going to talk over you two while you were doing that, now was I?
[The eggs are done. He takes them off the stove, the rest of the cooking done by the pan's remaining heat, and then he goes for the bread box. Good, crusty rye for toast. A bread knife lives in that box, so he takes that out too.]
I had an actual, lucid conversation with my mother. Not just a replay of memories.
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And that's...well, that's just...]
In...in your dreams?
[She glances at Trevor, who looks just as perplexed and at a loss as she feels herself.]
How did...that come to pass...?
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[Nerds. He comes from a line of nerds. Sure, one was a vampire king for centuries, but still a goddamn nerd.]
I'm sleeping in between the two of you again this evening. To test at least one theory.
[The bread, once sliced, gets stuck onto a long skewer. Alucard then walks over to the fire box for the stove, opens it, and sticks the stake-o-bread in for just a few quick moments.
The toast gets pulled out seconds later, and maybe the most remarkable part of all of this is the total lack of grief around Alucard as he's discussing this. A thawing well. Slow and sure.]
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[Hypothesis: can she and Trevor summon back the dead by creating some sort of weird magical resonance that acts on whatever is dropped in-between them. WILD.]
...Alucard, you're...sure it was her? From the way she spoke, and the things she said to you...?
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[Sypha, he's going to turn around, and point an entire stake of bread at you for doubt.]
Believe me, certain things said would be beyond myself to create. Such as notes on how to repair the castle.
* it's funny because it means bread in french
Notes for repairing the castle! That's...very specific! But it would also be immensely helpful, considering how broken it happens to be, at the moment...
[Because you broke it, Trevor reminds her, helpfully.]
GROANS
We can focus on that part later. The point is, the dream was much realer than it ought to have been, and I put stock in it.
[And clearly, he is happier for it.]
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Well. Even if it is, it's good to see you so happy. You don't look even the slightest bit gloomy!
[She doesn't mean to imply the for once that's suggested on the end of that, but it's probably there anyway.]
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...but really, Sypha. He heard that implied for once. He's not going to call her for it though. Better approach: distract.]
Do your people have anything in your histories about distinguishing true dreams from the more mundane ones?
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Trevor, on the other hand, knows what he's about, and what he's about right now is breakfast. So Sypha ends up lifted and carried over to the table, where she can be comfortably deposited in a chair of her own before Trevor claims one within reach of the breakfast plates.]
Mm...that depends. Do you mean distinguishing them while you are having them, or after the fact, once you've woken up?
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