[It's a good thing he puts it away when he does, or Sypha would have to get in on this jewelry-poking action, wide-eyed and fascinated by the treasure they've discovered.]
...It's beautiful. It must have been special to her, that she kept it so close at hand, and not with her others.
[...Oh.]
Because I assume she must've had...many others...
[Presuming that Dracula was anything like his son when it came to EXTRAVAGANT GIFTS, which is not that far of a leap, considering he had to get it from somewhere.]
...Knowing them both, that's an entirely fair assumption.
[His father was Like This. And that is the long and short of it all.]
Wedding or engagement. Those would be my guesses.
[He's been thinking about both. As beautiful as that necklace is, it is also hardly practical. His mother kept it on hand, so very close to them both, and the piece was more statement than meant to be worn.]
...We should look for a painting of it. Not now, but...sometime. Something like that is made to be seen — I'll bet there's one around somewhere, of her wearing it.
[But they're not here for darkness, they're here for unbreaking the castle. So that's her cue to riffle quickly through the rest of the contents of the drawer, just to confirm their suspicions.]
[Wedding or engagement portrait? It's an absolute possibility. And as Sypha goes through what remains in the drawer, Alucard bends down because there's another logical place to keep things: under the bed.
He's still at a bad angle though, so what this really requires is him getting down on his stomach and looking properly. Dust bunnies, dust bunny village, dust bunny wastelands...two boxes. One on either side of the bed it seems, their ends butted up against each other.]
I think I found a second option. Can you please step back so I'm not under foot?
[She says, waggling her eyebrows at him before obligingly backing up to give him his space. She's half-tempted to crouch down with him, but one look at the dust bunny apocalypse underneath there quickly dissuades her from the notion; she's sneezy enough already, as it is.]
The dust bunnies put up no fight as Alucard pulls the box out. It's not terribly fancy, just wood covered in dust. A lot of it, thicker than the rest of the room. No one ever dusted under the bed, so it isn't a terrible shock.
He doesn't blow all the accumulated dust off either - that'd be rude. All he does is sit up on the floor, and lift the lid carefully.]
[She's in no position to be making that demand, either.
Now she hunkers down, however, crouching at his side to peer in as the lid is lifted. This box is considerably bigger than a slender, elegant jewelry box; that's probably a good sign.]
...Journals?
[The top layer, at least. Three plain journals of the make and design that Lisa favored, along with some looseleaf sheets tucked underneath.]
[The sheets are where Alucard goes first, the journals gently placed atop the box's lid for the time being. With the box firmly in his lap, the sheets are unfolded very, very carefully.
Not that he need treat any of this like a relic. The paper is sturdy. Hardly ancient. The ink is still wonderfully dark and crisp, making it easier to read.]
Starting here makes more sense, the information was written down and then given.
[And indeed, what only Alucard will immediately notice is that the handwriting on the looseleaf isn't his mother's neat, compact lettering, but letters with more of an elegant flourish — Vlad's.
The good news is, they seem to be on the right track.
The bad news is, the top sheet is definitely a love letter, with a few paragraphs along the top to serve as introduction for what appear to be a handful of short verses centered on the page below it.]
And then there's the fact that his father was the most over the top vampire to ever vampire, which means that the top sheet is handed to Sypha almost immediately because Alucard is not about to read that.]
Neither of you get to complain about anything I say or do romantically ever again.
[There's poetry. Real poetry. Too much poetry, really.
[His suffering is not in vain! The other sheets seem more promising at first glance, as these ones have diagrams painstakingly inscribed on them with little figures that look like gears — and then, jackpot, one of the twenty-sided figure that represents the control mechanism for the castle's movements.
Unfortunately, Sypha being Sypha, she's reading the letter.]
It's not all romantic. There are also some very strong opinions on peasants.
[Which is a basic fact of being around his father. Moreover and more to the point though are the pages he has now, and he spreads each out on top of the box carefully. Then nudges Sypha with an elbow, real excitement in his voice.]
These are the pages in questions. The gears were things I already understood, but the actual control mechanism has always been beyond me. This was meant for...[He turns one of the pages over.] Emergencies, and specifically for someone not used to doing magic, never mind controlling an entire castle.
"There, you see, Lisa, I have crafted my love into verses, as these peasant men do while they toil all day in their fields."
[She recites, just to belabor the point, before carefully setting the love letter aside onto the mattress and moving to look at the diagram pages with him, instead.]
...Could your mother do magic, to begin with? She loved science so much, it's hard to imagine her tolerating something like magic, and a spell will always fail if you don't first believe it can succeed...
[At least it's said with a groan and a laugh. Because it is funnier rather than anything else, and there's still so much weight of just being in here.]
Not to my knowledge. But she was stubborn and hardheaded, and if intent is the foundation for magic then I doubt that there would have been too great a struggle.
At any age, I would have wanted to help her move it.
[He never did, of course. He understood so many of the mechanics that went into the castle, what kept it running. Gresit was testament to that. But moving the castle was something else entirely and....
...and as good and as soft and as lovely as Sypha's hand is (and he leans into it so very much), there's a note that catches his eye in particular.]
I think I found the part that you broke the hardest.
But that's actually the point. The part of the engines that process intent are both the hardest to break and the hardest to repair. And this page [he taps it gently] talks about the particulars. Not in great depth, but it's more than just looking at the damage will do. The mechanics and magic of it are intertwined to function properly, see?
[He will be forgiven only long enough for her to read this very interesting manuscript, because it is very interesting and thus more worthy of her attention at the moment.]
So...if I am reading this correctly, the person who moves the castle...doesn't move the castle. They instruct, in such a way that the castle knows how to obey, and then it moves itself.
[She frowns slightly, eyes skimming over the page again.]
It's like a trained dog. The dog knows the command for "come", and will come for its master. But I put a leash around it and...well, dragged it.
[Alucard re-reads the page again, thoughtful. Considering. Then correcting, because there's something else at hand.]
But there is an element of guidance though. I think that the better comparison would be working with horses? They know what to do but you have to nudge them along the appropriate path.
A better question, I think, is — will we have to reteach the castle how to obey? Or only fix the mechanisms that allow it to move?
[It's a little bizarre to be referring to the castle like a living thing while physically inside the castle. Despite herself, she glances at one of the walls, like she's expecting it to be eavesdropping.]
I don't think we've made an extensive study of how it broke, exactly.
It's sort of a cute thought, though, isn't it? You and your castle, like childhood playmates!
[Says Sypha, whose knowledge of childhood playmates comes pretty much exclusively from hearing folktales and legends that include them as a narrative staple.]
Well. We will certainly have to release the locking spell, but that should not be too difficult. And I think you may have to focus on the mechanisms themselves; I'm not sure if I could even lift them, much less repair them.
Back to the matter at hand. Alucard hums thoughtfully, considering the plan.]
Let's observe the damage first, and link each part to what's presented on the page. I'll...need a notebook, first, but that means all the research and results we do shall be recorded in one place.
[They get to do science!! Together!]
Don't even release the locking spell, we need to account for that in our initial observations.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[It's a good thing he puts it away when he does, or Sypha would have to get in on this jewelry-poking action, wide-eyed and fascinated by the treasure they've discovered.]
...It's beautiful. It must have been special to her, that she kept it so close at hand, and not with her others.
[...Oh.]
Because I assume she must've had...many others...
[Presuming that Dracula was anything like his son when it came to EXTRAVAGANT GIFTS, which is not that far of a leap, considering he had to get it from somewhere.]
no subject
[His father was Like This. And that is the long and short of it all.]
Wedding or engagement. Those would be my guesses.
[He's been thinking about both. As beautiful as that necklace is, it is also hardly practical. His mother kept it on hand, so very close to them both, and the piece was more statement than meant to be worn.]
But no notes in there.
no subject
[But they're not here for darkness, they're here for unbreaking the castle. So that's her cue to riffle quickly through the rest of the contents of the drawer, just to confirm their suspicions.]
Empty. Just odds and ends, in here.
no subject
[Wedding or engagement portrait? It's an absolute possibility. And as Sypha goes through what remains in the drawer, Alucard bends down because there's another logical place to keep things: under the bed.
He's still at a bad angle though, so what this really requires is him getting down on his stomach and looking properly. Dust bunnies, dust bunny village, dust bunny wastelands...two boxes. One on either side of the bed it seems, their ends butted up against each other.]
I think I found a second option. Can you please step back so I'm not under foot?
no subject
[She says, waggling her eyebrows at him before obligingly backing up to give him his space. She's half-tempted to crouch down with him, but one look at the dust bunny apocalypse underneath there quickly dissuades her from the notion; she's sneezy enough already, as it is.]
Tell me if you need help pulling.
no subject
[Just a reminder, Sypha.
The dust bunnies put up no fight as Alucard pulls the box out. It's not terribly fancy, just wood covered in dust. A lot of it, thicker than the rest of the room. No one ever dusted under the bed, so it isn't a terrible shock.
He doesn't blow all the accumulated dust off either - that'd be rude. All he does is sit up on the floor, and lift the lid carefully.]
no subject
[She's in no position to be making that demand, either.
Now she hunkers down, however, crouching at his side to peer in as the lid is lifted. This box is considerably bigger than a slender, elegant jewelry box; that's probably a good sign.]
...Journals?
[The top layer, at least. Three plain journals of the make and design that Lisa favored, along with some looseleaf sheets tucked underneath.]
no subject
[The sheets are where Alucard goes first, the journals gently placed atop the box's lid for the time being. With the box firmly in his lap, the sheets are unfolded very, very carefully.
Not that he need treat any of this like a relic. The paper is sturdy. Hardly ancient. The ink is still wonderfully dark and crisp, making it easier to read.]
Starting here makes more sense, the information was written down and then given.
no subject
The good news is, they seem to be on the right track.
The bad news is, the top sheet is definitely a love letter, with a few paragraphs along the top to serve as introduction for what appear to be a handful of short verses centered on the page below it.]
no subject
And then there's the fact that his father was the most over the top vampire to ever vampire, which means that the top sheet is handed to Sypha almost immediately because Alucard is not about to read that.]
Neither of you get to complain about anything I say or do romantically ever again.
[There's poetry. Real poetry. Too much poetry, really.
He's...going to keep looking.]
no subject
Unfortunately, Sypha being Sypha, she's reading the letter.]
It's not all romantic. There are also some very strong opinions on peasants.
no subject
[Which is a basic fact of being around his father. Moreover and more to the point though are the pages he has now, and he spreads each out on top of the box carefully. Then nudges Sypha with an elbow, real excitement in his voice.]
These are the pages in questions. The gears were things I already understood, but the actual control mechanism has always been beyond me. This was meant for...[He turns one of the pages over.] Emergencies, and specifically for someone not used to doing magic, never mind controlling an entire castle.
no subject
[She recites, just to belabor the point, before carefully setting the love letter aside onto the mattress and moving to look at the diagram pages with him, instead.]
...Could your mother do magic, to begin with? She loved science so much, it's hard to imagine her tolerating something like magic, and a spell will always fail if you don't first believe it can succeed...
no subject
[At least it's said with a groan and a laugh. Because it is funnier rather than anything else, and there's still so much weight of just being in here.]
Not to my knowledge. But she was stubborn and hardheaded, and if intent is the foundation for magic then I doubt that there would have been too great a struggle.
no subject
[She hums a little, lifting a hand and resting it gently on Alucard's back, between his shoulder blades.]
If it were to protect you, I am sure she would have done anything. Even moved a castle with magic she had never used before.
no subject
[He never did, of course. He understood so many of the mechanics that went into the castle, what kept it running. Gresit was testament to that. But moving the castle was something else entirely and....
...and as good and as soft and as lovely as Sypha's hand is (and he leans into it so very much), there's a note that catches his eye in particular.]
I think I found the part that you broke the hardest.
no subject
[So much for that pleasant backrub he was about to get, because now it's a little slap instead. Cheeky!]
And it's the castle's fault, anyway, for fighting me so much!
no subject
[Thank God he's a vampire and feels none of it.]
But that's actually the point. The part of the engines that process intent are both the hardest to break and the hardest to repair. And this page [he taps it gently] talks about the particulars. Not in great depth, but it's more than just looking at the damage will do. The mechanics and magic of it are intertwined to function properly, see?
[He hands her the page properly. Better to read.]
no subject
[He will be forgiven only long enough for her to read this very interesting manuscript, because it is very interesting and thus more worthy of her attention at the moment.]
So...if I am reading this correctly, the person who moves the castle...doesn't move the castle. They instruct, in such a way that the castle knows how to obey, and then it moves itself.
[She frowns slightly, eyes skimming over the page again.]
It's like a trained dog. The dog knows the command for "come", and will come for its master. But I put a leash around it and...well, dragged it.
no subject
[Alucard re-reads the page again, thoughtful. Considering. Then correcting, because there's something else at hand.]
But there is an element of guidance though. I think that the better comparison would be working with horses? They know what to do but you have to nudge them along the appropriate path.
[Either way....]
We'll have to rebuild the mechanism from scratch.
no subject
[It's a little bizarre to be referring to the castle like a living thing while physically inside the castle. Despite herself, she glances at one of the walls, like she's expecting it to be eavesdropping.]
I don't think we've made an extensive study of how it broke, exactly.
no subject
[Alucard catches that glance.]
It's not alive, don't worry. And so I think it will be closer to fixing mechanisms and enabling the magic again.
no subject
[Says Sypha, whose knowledge of childhood playmates comes pretty much exclusively from hearing folktales and legends that include them as a narrative staple.]
Well. We will certainly have to release the locking spell, but that should not be too difficult. And I think you may have to focus on the mechanisms themselves; I'm not sure if I could even lift them, much less repair them.
no subject
[S y p h a.
Back to the matter at hand. Alucard hums thoughtfully, considering the plan.]
Let's observe the damage first, and link each part to what's presented on the page. I'll...need a notebook, first, but that means all the research and results we do shall be recorded in one place.
[They get to do science!! Together!]
Don't even release the locking spell, we need to account for that in our initial observations.
no subject
[Sometimes it seems like every time they open up a closet door there's another half-empty box of blank journals just waiting to be pillaged and used.]
Speaking of which, do you want to look at the ones that were in the box?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)