[He wants the kiss to linger. So Alucard doesn't move to break it, bittersweet as the gesture feels in the moment. The reassurance in the kiss, that's all he wants right now. The worse of the catharsis is past, at least he thinks.]
I'm the better rescued maiden in this scenario anyway. Hair's right.
[So this is how they're going to walk instead. Alucard's arm around Sypha's shoulder in a side hug, because at least that means they're still touching. He'll shuffle along, eyes still bleary. The distance is short, there's a sofa in the other room too, and he'll try and compact himself the best he can to fit in her lap.]
[This is absolutely absurd, the two of them plus one sofa plus one blanket and Alucard's hilariously long legs trying to fit somewhere into the middle of it all. But she gets them arranged well enough, and wraps her arms around him tight, and nuzzles against him.]
I like the one where the prince locks himself away in a castle closed off by three magical doors, and says that he wants to see no one but the person who can open all three doors to reach him. The king and queen offer a reward to anyone who can free him, up to half the kingdom. So plenty of people try, men and women alike, but no one ever comes back, and finally someone who went with them to watch came back and said that when their friend had approached the door, it had turned into an awful face full of sharp teeth, and asked to be brought "an eye that cannot see". So the person had plucked out one of their own eyes and offered it to the door, but then the door said it was wrong, and ate him.
[She stops a minute.]
...Actually, looking back on it, this is a much more gruesome story than I remember it being when I first heard it as a little girl...
[Alucard's head winds up somewhere in the nebulous space between Sypha's shoulder and breast, and his eyes focus up at her. He's listening, and more than that he's not trying to hide his face after all this. That's progress, even though his eyes are still redrimmed and sting just a bit.]
Doors devouring people sounds about right for this kind of story. If not tame.
[When your dad's Dracula, the bedtime stories get way worse than this. And done when mom's not around.
Yes, well. In any case, the girl is a peasant from the village who no one pays much mind to. I think when I first heard it she is the daughter of the tailor? But where everyone else was seeking the prince because of the reward of half the kingdom, she spent day after day thinking to herself that he must be very lonesome shut away in his castle.
[It's a good position for her to keep a hand at the back of his head, stroking his hair even as she supports his neck. It's also good for smiling down at him, sweet and warm.]
So one day she decides that she will go and try, and so as not to worry her parents she sneaks out at night to travel to the castle with its monstrous door. And when she arrives, it turns into that same horrible face, and demands an eye that cannot see.
[Her smile widens just a touch.]
So, she offers it a silver needle from her father's shop, and the door devours it in its big sharp teeth, and turns back into a door as it swings open to reveal the next one.
[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?
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I'm the better rescued maiden in this scenario anyway. Hair's right.
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[She tugs lightly on his hair, since he brought it up, just a little for emphasis.]
She's always very clever, and wins him over with brilliance. And a little bit of sneakiness!
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[So this is how they're going to walk instead. Alucard's arm around Sypha's shoulder in a side hug, because at least that means they're still touching. He'll shuffle along, eyes still bleary. The distance is short, there's a sofa in the other room too, and he'll try and compact himself the best he can to fit in her lap.]
Which is the best version of the story?
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I like the one where the prince locks himself away in a castle closed off by three magical doors, and says that he wants to see no one but the person who can open all three doors to reach him. The king and queen offer a reward to anyone who can free him, up to half the kingdom. So plenty of people try, men and women alike, but no one ever comes back, and finally someone who went with them to watch came back and said that when their friend had approached the door, it had turned into an awful face full of sharp teeth, and asked to be brought "an eye that cannot see". So the person had plucked out one of their own eyes and offered it to the door, but then the door said it was wrong, and ate him.
[She stops a minute.]
...Actually, looking back on it, this is a much more gruesome story than I remember it being when I first heard it as a little girl...
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Doors devouring people sounds about right for this kind of story. If not tame.
[When your dad's Dracula, the bedtime stories get way worse than this. And done when mom's not around.
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[It's a good position for her to keep a hand at the back of his head, stroking his hair even as she supports his neck. It's also good for smiling down at him, sweet and warm.]
So one day she decides that she will go and try, and so as not to worry her parents she sneaks out at night to travel to the castle with its monstrous door. And when she arrives, it turns into that same horrible face, and demands an eye that cannot see.
[Her smile widens just a touch.]
So, she offers it a silver needle from her father's shop, and the door devours it in its big sharp teeth, and turns back into a door as it swings open to reveal the next one.
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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.]
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[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?
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Does it involve more tailoring equipment, or do I need to expand beyond that particular box?
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[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.
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[Well, fuck it. Alucard will let the cleverness be off his back this time, and he nudges Sypha gently.]
What was it then?
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[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."
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[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.
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[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.
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[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?]
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[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.
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[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.
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[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.
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Right, I follow the logic. And doubtlessly our hero did cross the threshold. What happened next?
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[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.
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[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?
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[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.
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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.]
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[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.
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[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.]
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