cryptsleeper | 20s AU Post

20s AU Post

Current Carmilla plot outline
--Post-fire, Carmilla and Mr. Peanut team up mostly to use each other. Carmilla's spent the past several months (since November, it is now February 1925) networking, and it's clear to her that Alucard's not suited for the position and that the other two are the obvious weakness. Mr Peanut needs something back, so this is perfect on her end. Mr Peanut can only imagine the joys of vampire blood in his work, and he'd like an army of vampires for his own ends.
--Shit stirring from Mr Peanut (all of March?)
--Mr Peanut also begins to sell mis Miracle Serum, which has vampire blood in it.
--Gang is very much trying to murder Mr Peanut during this.
--Start of April, vampire gets a call from one of the blood bank contacts that 3 patients have come in and are displaying some bizarre signs. Investigation yields the fact that they're in process of turning, and they've all taken the same serum.
--Additional investigation reveals O FUCK IT MR PEANUT
--Meanwhile Carmilla's been made aware of a familiar she didn't sire, so she knows something's up. Big fight with Mr. Peanut and thus Mr. Peanut is left depowered
--Gang commits a murder
--Carmilla's well sured up on her contacts now, and it's time for open rebellion (mid-April)
--In a more subtle attempt to let Alucard just step aside, she cuts the breaks on demon car and shows up to gloat/suggest he not pull a dad and go to deal with his grief quietly while she runs the city. The how he wants to do it is up to him (black widow joke goes here.) Treffy and Sypha walk in.
--1 week of straight up rebellion; feedings, no help from allies, need to do damage control instead of fight carmilla, every dracula rule is
--MEANWHILE IN GRAVITY FALLS, triangle shows Vlad what's up to try and psyche him out, somehow this finalyl snaps Vlad out of his depression and he heads home
--Just in time for Alucard and Carmilla to be tearing each other to bits in one of the bayous, it's not going well
--Vlad coming in means the king of vampires is accosted by a belmont with a pair of blessed knitting needles and a speaker with a fucking gun and he's just like what the shit happened to the world while i was gone
--Wards around the fight means that only demon car can break the wards, everyone has to pile in.
--Carmilla gets her ass kicked AND SENT TO THE JUSTICE DIMENSION

THEN THERE WERE FAERIES.
--Prior to all of this the vampire and Sypha have done a shit ton of research on how to get their Belmont back
--Sypha has also been practicing debating with dad, which leaves everyone Very Tired.
--When Trevor is actually snatched up (1 year after marriage, it takes fae effort. Taking Arn's shape fails, so it's a lot more kidnapping by force), Sypha and Alucard go into Faerie
--But they're playing this as politics, not as heroes rescuing their damsel, so that means the faeries are just "wait what now excuse u?"
--There are 3 gates and 3 trials (the particulars we're still bullshitting.) Each is asked to sacrifice 3 things. (Alucard: voice, his titles as bestowed upon by his father and his people, i forget the third; Sypha: her human form (she's a birb), fuck what were the other two)
--They enter the court at the end of the third trial. After LITERALLY ALL THE TITLES Sypha declares she Speaks for Trevor Belmont
--Claim debate over Trevor, turns out that the rules are in Sypha's favor.
--But that means debating to leave Fae without giving up what they've chosen.
--Sypha lawyers it all out, Alucard is a safety deposit and hangs out with Fae!Trevor
--In the end, safe passage out of Faerie consists of Sypha giving up her memory of the necromancer (billed as a great mage she studied under), the vampire gives up his immortality, and Trevor is replaced with Carmilla (dad was aware of this option and OK with it), but Trevor has his ability to swear taken. He now soundslike a rubber ducky when he tries
--Everyone gets home okay, except for the AU of this AU where the gang fails, but Trevor's on their doorstep like a bat out of Hell because time doesn't work right and he's been in Hell for a WHILE.

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[It's three weeks of investigative work. Of talking to everyone they can about every aspect of this, Trevor to anyone willing to trust a Belmont with the safety of the city's supernatural, Alucard and Sypha to anyone who sees them as the better option. Of going back to scenes of attacks, relying on Trevor's insights and Sypha's magic, Alucard there only to provide theories or string things together when the other two's brains have ached for too long.

There's no pattern at first. Vampire, witch, ghost, everything's had a claim made on it, and that means that it's more likely human. Human enough to know about the city's stranger side, potentially human enough to mingle with them freely. (It's a thing that could cast greater doubt on Sypha. Alucard hates it. Trevor's a non-factor because his surname does all the work.) A small number of people, but they all check out.

So then that leaves the question of self-loathers, which exist, but they are quickly gone through and dismissed. Nothing.

There's quiet one night as the three ponder it all yet again, Alucard sat on the floor of a room they've now reserved for investigation and a makeshift evidence locker, Trevor pacing, Sypha re-reading their notes. It dawns at once. Every attack has involved something blessed. Clergy, then, or those with close ties.

Trevor hates the implication, Alucard snarls out of instinct because what hasn't been touched and destroyed by religion lately, and there's a screeching match into the night. A demand to run the plausibility by the Church Ladies, which is done, and then there's a horrible truth. Rumor only, they warn, but if it is true then...then it's a horrible truth.

Supposedly the murderer of Lisa Tepes has been seen again.

(Alucard keeps it together until they're home. He excuses himself to the basement, and he does not emerge until the next day. He looks like shit. He doesn't speak to either of them, doesn't share a bed with them for five days. Too much is wrapped up in this.)

All that is left is to find the man and put him to rest again. Just as his father did.

So that means being here. Now. On one of the crossroads, because that is where he has been sighted. Strange and frightening in and of itself given what crossroads can mean and do, but Alucard has not had the ability to sit and be thoughtful since this thing was revealed to him. He has been barely contained rage.]

[Sypha remembers what it was like, in the Back Then. In that period of their lives when the Speakers were still close in proximity to this city she now thinks of as home, before Trevor had stumbled in ragged from the war, when they came to quietly collect the story of Dracula's wife from beginning to end (because it had ended, it had ended so recently) and Alucard had found her in the city gathering gossip on the pretense of telling fortunes. She remembers the scar when it was still fresh and new and he couldn't lift his arms without aggravating it. She remembers his thousand-yard stares while she stroked a hairbrush through his hair again and again; she remembers the way they danced around each other, drawing out goodbyes and racing toward hellos, bridging gaps and patching holes torn open by the death of Lisa Tepes.

She remembers enough that it's horribly familiar, when he disappears to the basement and withdraws from them for days after. Alucard has always been more comfortable speaking to them through actions instead of words, and she suspects she's more fluent in the nuances of the language than Trevor is. Hardly unsurprising, for a Speaker, though Alucard is a language in which she's entirely self-taught, and for which there is no dictionary to rely on.

But they have a lead, now. It's not an answer, far from it, but it's something to go on. Perhaps most importantly, it's an identifiable enemy — something that, if need be, the supernatural citizens of Alucard's domain can be mollified with. Far easier to be seen resolving a problem when the problem has a face, and can die. The creatures of the night understand death very well.

And thus, here they are, and she hates the way that Alucard looks, but she understands why he does. She couldn't be anywhere else right now than at his side, not for this.]

This is no place for a priest.

[It's a place for something, certainly, but not a member of the clergy. This bodes poorly, and the way she's got her hands held loosely up by her chest like she's keeping them charged and ready with intent is a clear indication of it.]

Alucard, I don't like this.

[So much balances on a fine edge now. Alucard doesn't act as himself in this moment, he is not only Adrian Tepes, a grieving son. He is regent, he speaks and acts for a city that has placed power in his very young hands. (His age is never forgotten.) To tear this man apart again, it would be the easiest thing in the world, but it would not give the city satisfaction. Spectacle.

But Trevor cannot abide by extensive harm done to the clergy, because is still a Belmont and that means certain things. Complicity in such actions will do him no favors, and the family he has in Texas is well aware of him now.

This situation was the kind of thing Alucard feared, back when he had not accepted that this would be how things were. Back when he chafed and tried to gnaw at the bindings wrapping around him, holding him fast to a legacy that no one in his family expected him to take. He would be his father's son, oh yes, but never anything more than that. Never a true power in any meaningful way.

He's not armed. That was one of Trevor's rules for this, because this thing must be capture and to arm Alucard was to risk the chance of death again. At the very least, there is a need for interrogation, they can all agree on that.

Tension is eating him up from the inside. Alucard knows it.]

I don't either. [But what more can be done?] Crossroads never bode well.

It doesn't make sense.

[Her voice is low, but not from apprehension or fear; no, it's in the soft and moderated volume of someone who thinks they might be overheard, and is trying to combat that as best she can.]

The priest is dead. If he is returned to life, he has become an abomination, yes? Then how could such a priest work the miracles it would take to bless the attacks we've been seeing?

[She nudges a little closer to him, angled to keep the edge of her peripheral vision just barely overlapping with his, covering as much ground as possible.]

There is more to this than we are seeing. Do we expect him to just walk out on business here, in the dead of the night? I don't like this. If he comes, it will surely be with a purpose, and an evil one at that.

You speak as if his actions made sense while he was alive.

[The words aren't spoken, they're snarled. Alucard's self control has always been an exercise in balancing two very inherited things: his father's rage, his mother's compassion. The former was easier right now, because the latter was nothing he could ever show in this position he had now. Compassion was not for vampires. It was not for regents.]

If he believes he returned by the will of his God, perhaps. If he does not understand the workings of the necromancy that powers him. Faith [he nearly spits the word out] can lead one down terrible roads.

[There's a rustle beyond them. Alucard's body freezes, all tension. All ready to spring.]

Don't.

[He's so on edge, like a predator just waiting for a trigger to set a lethal lunge off. And she knows, deep down, that she has no right to tell him how to behave in a moment like this, not when the source of all of this, every bit of the pain and stress and misery he's chained to on a daily basis, may well be just drawing within reach of his teeth and claws. The catalyst that made his whole world go wrong was his mother's murder, but this — this is the hand that dropped the reactant, that set the crucible boiling over to begin with.

It's not just the loss of his mother. It's the loss of his own future, the loss of his father. The loss of happiness that could have been. The loss of stability, the loss of freedom. The loss of everything.

It is, perhaps, the one thing in the world that could raise Alucard's emotions so high that he would grow careless and make mistakes — and that's precisely why she fears it.]

Don't leave my side...

[Between her fingers, a small glowing ball of light forms — not unlike the fae lights they always use at the best parties — and she tosses it in the direction of the noise, seeking to illuminate the rustling.]

[He can't relax. He can't make any promises about behavior other than Trevor has permission to restrain the vampire if it is determined such action must be taken. Alucard agreed to that early on, agreed to it the moment he remarked that he could not be trusted to handle this as it needs to be.

(Trevor had asked so early on if Alucard was actually suited to this role. It's stunning sometimes how big the lie of yes was.)

Sypha's words tether Alucard just enough.]

I know.

[He knows he has to reign everything in.

The lights show nothing more than a raccoon. It startles and it runs off. Trevor would normally say something about animals rutting, but his attention is at the left side of the crossroads. There is a figure coming down it, and there are two small pinpricks of blue light.

Not natural, he mutters, but if Trevor isn't moving, Alucard isn't allowed to do anything either. Another agreed upon rule for the night.]

[When she shifts position, it's for several reasons, all of them practiced and habitual over time. It's to ensure that Trevor has enough clearance to act with his whip without having to worry about catching her in its radius; it's also to ensure that Alucard has room to move both laterally as well as forward and backward without having to try to dodge her as he maneuvers faster than either she or Trevor could ever hope to do. It's to partially obscure herself from view behind her taller, broader companions, because the element of surprise is always an asset. It's to give off the impression, to an unsuspecting fool given to assumptions, that she is afraid of a fight, and no real threat in her own right.

But she's in a position where she can watch, and this time she doesn't throw another light. This time, perhaps, the veil of darkness benefits them as much as it might their adversary, and the dark is of no consequence to Alucard anyway.]

Do we speak to him?

[All conversation is muttered now, low and deep so as not to carry on the night air.]

I could freeze his feet to the ground.

Someone else is coming.

[Alucard is not so far consumed with all of his emotions that his hearing is obscured. From down the road there are footsteps. Several. And there they have it, this is where that horrible thing tells others to act and gives them what they need to further disrupt a city's population that needs no more help.

One of them mutters evidence. It's hard to say who. They could catch the priest after his conspirators depart, then catch up with them down the road. They could let them start to perform their contracted action days from now, then catch the group in the act. There are so many ways to play this, but the community's understanding of justice demands action now.]

Deal with him, I'll see to whoever has taken up his grim work.

[Slowly but surely, the two groups are converging on the crossroads. It's apparent, now that the priest is closer, that his gait is not that of a living man; he shambles, somewhat, when there is no one around to see how he moves. Perhaps when he has an audience he is more cautious, but otherwise, it would be a waste of time and energy to pretend when there is no one there to witness the deception.

The others have brought the tools of their trade with them, tonight. Whether it's because the priest told them to or because they simply know better than to travel such roads at night with no protection is anyone's guess. Regardless, the glint of such things is there: knives, stakes, silver crosses, garlic. Amateurish, perhaps, but ready to cause trouble.

She steals a glance at Trevor, who nods slightly back and moves closer in to Alucard, ready to make their move when the moment is right. Perhaps that's for the best; leave the priest to Sypha, who has no strong opinions about his religion or his faith either way, than entrust him to Alucard or Trevor, whose biases might get in the way of his capture.]

[Stakes and silver and crosses. Those are Alucard problems, but so long as Trevor can knock those things out of hand, then the rest is easily done. It is better for Sypha to focus on the dead man (he looks so dead, no wonder he hides in the shadows at crossroads) though.

There is discussion. It is not hushed. The priest speaks of evil still persisting in the city, of demons and devils, of how his work is so terribly in complete, of how the devil stopped his work to avenge his witch.

And that is the point where a snarl escapes Alucard. No control. It stops the conversation dead in it's tracks, there are eyes searching for the noise.

Their cover's blown. Fuck it. Alucard launches at one of the hunters, fangs bared and nails so, so sharp.]

[He's not the only one who makes a noise; Trevor snaps out a hushed shit! and goes after him, because their cover is blown anyway and now it's merely crowd control.

More importantly, it's Alucard control.

The problem is, Trevor isn't faster than Alucard in a lunge. Very little is; a human hunter certainly isn't. But Sypha, as it turns out, has just enough time to get her fingertips to her lips and sweep her hands outward in a hint of a kiss, shoving a blast of wind into the crowd that, with a little luck and a lot of prayer, will hit the hunter Alucard is aiming at in the chest and knock him back just enough that the first lunge will not be fatal.

If that's a betrayal, they can suss it out later, at home. For now, all she knows is that she can't let him do this.

But now, the others are reacting. The priest staggers back a step or two, too muddled and slow to properly process what's happening with the same speed as the hunters; the others bring up their weapons as a shout rips through the clearing, and as they fan out to try to all get a clear angle on the threat launching itself into their midst.]

[The man fumbles. Alucard lands beside him instead, barely catching the action as anything but a man taken by terrible surprise. (And he is so terrible in this moment.) The wind is enough to let Trevor catch up, to ensure that he has a handle on the vampire and Sypha can do her work.

It is madness. Trevor relying on the whip to ensure none of the hunters run off, Alucard going after the one that does. Silver that is pressed into Alucard for the effort, and while he hisses, the worst of it barely registers to him. There's no pain, there is only fury, and--

--And there is one actually landing a stake on Alucard. Not in his chest, but driven through his foot, pinning him down to the ground in a way that is horribly effective because that stake is made of silver.

Trevor's too busy with the others. Sypha has her own task. Which means Alucard must bend down and grab the stake himself, even as the silver burns.]

[The problem with a melee like this is, of course, the issue of friendly fire — quite literally. With Trevor and Alucard deep in the fray, she has to be all the more careful about attempting to corral the masses with her use of the elements, lest she catch them up in it as well.

But still. She would hardly be a Speaker magician if she didn't know how to handle herself.

With movements almost like a dance, she pulls magic into her hands and throws it in the form of tiny orbs, one after another, toward the faces of the hunters; though they seem like nothing more untoward than her previous fae light at first, these ones come with an added, nasty twist. They glow a low red when she hurls them, because she knows from cozy afternoons poring over books with Alucard that red light preserves night vision; she's also very aware that white light does not, and so when each of those orbs explodes like a supernova into a brilliant wash of light before dying out, the resultant magical flashbang will almost certainly disorient the hunters, at least long enough to get a handle on them.

The priest, however, is another matter — and he, sensing danger, has begun to shamble away. And really, a wall of ice would've done just fine, except for the fact that her magic is shaped by her intent, and, well.

It is, perhaps, a facet of her own feelings about this issue, on behalf of Alucard, that her ice manifests not as a wall, but as a series of spikes jutting up from the ground on an angle, pointing inward like lances and daring the priest to go further.]

[Trevor is the one who ends up getting the hunters gathered into a single place. He hadn't been able to manage them and Alucard's foot being staked to the ground, and so he has to pull that thing out once the group has been terrified into staying still. Alucard hisses from the pain of it, but that's all.

His foot heals. Slowly. He ignores the pain and here begins the first part of this: assessing who these idiots are and why they have entreated with a dead man.

(It turns out that they're dissidents from the normal truces, those who scoffed at nearly a hundred years and change of peace between the city's supernatural element and those who would seek to contain and destroy it. Closer to the Belmonts of Europe way back before there were any rules of conduct and combat established. They're emboldened by Dracula's departure, and this man offered opportunity.

There will need to be judgement passed on them.)]

[It falls to Sypha to manage the priest, still. He stands nearby, penned in by a fence of inward-pointing spikes, and even undead it seems he's at least intelligent enough not to walk directly into them.

The fate of the hunters will be the spectacle for the city, really. This one, she knows, may well be destined for a much more private end at Alucard's hands personally.]

They need not be awake, for me to get them back to the city.

[She points out, quietly.]

I can haul them with no difficulty, so long as they are knocked out.

Happily.

[Trevor doesn't move to stop Alucard either. There's some level of control returned as Alucard takes care of the matter, but when he finishes, there's still too much tension and fury in him. So he excuses himself into the brush for just a moment, and there is absolutely the sound of a tree falling before Alucard walks back.

He had talked to the Church Ladies about this before everything was set in motion. Any prisoners who weren't the priest would be looked after them instead. Natural allies of any opposition would have to be consulted, because the kind of justice the city would demand was the thing of showtrials and witch hunts. Things he would not allow, things that were not acceptable. Not under his father. Not under his own rule.

(The mob will demand blood. Mercy isn't an option, he knows that. He can feel his mother's disappointment.)]

I'll bring the car around.

[They parked it a little ways away. Just to be safe.

[She enlists Trevor's help for the next part, going to each of the unconscious hunters in turn and holding their arms out, crossed at the wrists, while she sets a band of ice around them as a makeshift cuff. There are sleeves, fortunately, so it should only prove unpleasant for them, not damaging. Then, one by one, they go onto a disc of ice she crafts, heaped into an unceremonious pile to await Alucard's return.

The priest, on the other hand, gets the honor of being tied with Trevor's whip outright. There is no room for any chances to be taken, not with this one.]

[He walks back to the car at human speed. It doesn't help. There's only dread at what must be done in public, and then the knowledge that the priest's death must be done in front of a crowd this time. A reminder of why he has taken this unwanted crown. Proof that the man responsible has been taken care of.

Perhaps not. A head would be enough, wouldn't it?

Alucard gets into the car, and he drives back to the other two. Leaves the engine on, and he opens the trunk and all of the doors. The arrangement is on Sypha and Trevor, he is only there to be muscle.]

[ New Orleans kind of looks like a really, really mangled, ugly dog. From above, that is. It makes it easy enough to draw a map, even with his left hand - his right is mostly recovered now, if somewhat lumpier than it was before, but too weak still to reliably be trusted for writing - because Belmonts have an affinity for all things dog-shaped.

He's mostly been silent and content to remain in his room and convalesce outside of mealtimes, and more prone to listen to the other two speak at those times than to speak up himself. Except when he feels the need to inform everyone that something is stupid. He's requested things rather than going looking for them himself. Books, at first, for something to fucking do while he waits to recover. Then a roll of paper, something to write upon it and a jar of sand, given only after a period of relatively good behavior and only with his word not to use them to break any of the castle's enchantments.

(He did not agree not to use them to find out what all of the castle's enchantments are, nor to make a preliminary map of the place and its grounds. Belmonts are as close as a human can become to the creatures of fairytales, and exact words are important with them.)

Today, they're being used to find all of the city's vampires. He can't map allegiances, who has sired who, influence, not without more specific components. But he can get a decent idea of where they are and how much of a threat they pose. He tosses the sand over his ugly-dog map, letting the glyphs drawn around it do their work. Slowly, the sand pulls itself into a series of piles. Some small, some large. There's one just a little beyond the confines of the map of the city itself where a concerning amount of sand has gathered (their Theodora, more than likely). A few smaller piles within the city. One of several medium-sized piles he instinctively recognizes as Damian. A concerning temperamental pile that keeps gaining and losing sand like a weird heartbeat. There are more individual grains (humans in danger of turning) than he would like. A great deal of smaller piles dotted through the city. Younger vampires, likely here for protection.

He'd expected vampires here to be more spread out - the Americas have a lot of fucking space. Instead they're clustered together in a way they rarely were in Europe. And that makes a sick kind of sense, because all the people - the food sources - are clustered together as well. With no Belmonts, there's no motivation to stay out of the cities that make big, easy hunting grounds. There'll likely be vampires outside the city limits, spread out and each with a large amount of empty territory, more similar to the way things were back home, but they aren't the concern. The only place this lousy with them would have been London in the years of Spring-Heeled Jack. ]

Shit. Lot of fucking vampires.

[ The woman isn’t being kept prisoner. He can trust that much. And that leaves questions - she isn’t, near as he can tell, from any of the old families. Doesn’t seem to be a hunter at all. Doesn’t seem to be any of the sorts who ought to be treating with vampires, any of the sorts who have business important enough to be worth painting a target on ones back like that. He knows she’s a mage, but there are easier, safer places to go to learn that than the heart of this new, fucked up, American version of a vampire’s court.

And she’s sheltering him. Encouraging him. Telling him comforting things and letting him escape from the way that things are.

There has never been a bloodless transition of power. Not between vampires. Even well-meaning ones. Especially well-meaning ones. They tend to be the ones who aren’t willing to take the measures needed to keep themselves in power, and the ones who don’t see themselves as capable of doing the kind of harm that they end up doing. It was well-meaning vampires who refused to crush Bluebeard when he was still small enough to crush, let him gain the kind of power and influence he had. ]

You’re coddling him.

[ Alucard is- about as out of earshot as a vampire can fucking be in the same building as you, which is to say he’s in another room with the radio on. He left after dinner, off to go sulk over the latest bullshit, bullshit that is absolutely bad fucking news but that Sypha seems determined to convince him he’ll weather somehow, apparently through sheer force of him meaning the world to her. Sypha’s been left to re-ice his ankle and wrist. ]

It’s not going to help him one fucking bit, letting him ignore this shit.

[Furniture had been returned to Trevor's room the first evening. The next day had seen a week's worth of shirts, undergarments, and trousers be placed on the dresser, along with the first of many books. Basic city histories (bearing not an ex libris of the castle but stamps from the public library system) were among them to begin with. Then newspapers for the past several months, to bring Trevor up to speed on those matters. Then the local supernatural newspaper, because those matters also needed to be understood.

Most days, when Trevor wasn't physically around, it was easy to ignore him. Accepted bitter truths meant slowly starting to talk to the other vampires, building the right supports, and then coming back to the castle and being too quiet for a few hours. (He cooked then, generally. Let Sypha explain any questions the Belmont had about research particulars, because there was a low level hatred for the Belmont's presence. Not because of past grudges, but because of now forced hands.)

It is around noon that Alucard walks into Trevor's room, lunch tray with him. (If nothing else, he's made effort to get Trevor's clothing to fit properly again.) His eyes go from Trevor, to the map, then back to Trevor again.]

Look again. Every area you've outlined has at least three churches within it.

[The clusters balance.]

The wards here all have a group to counterbalance residents. No one is a stranger to the other. A few are more notorious, of course, like the babas associated the Eastern Orthodox church.

At least a few of those aren't churches for Belmont purposes.

[ He smudges away one of the glyphs (it's sticks of charcoal that he was given in the end to write with. less liable to be used as a makeshift stake than a pencil or pen.) replacing it with a different one. The sand shifts into regularly placed piles, some with empty centres. The Church Ladies' church is the largest of the circles, entirely full. The one where Lisa's murderer preached is a thin, empty ring. ]

It's all about what the church is being used for. [ Intent. ] If it's being used to help people, it can provide sanctuary. Vampires can't enter it. If it's being used to manipulate people, or to gain power over them, or to make money-

[ He points to one of the empty circles. The church where Damian poses as a priest, where he was captured. ]

Then it's not worth shit. Anything can come and go from it as they please, and any vampire hunter that comes from it won't last long.

[Debating the configuration of where to put whom takes a little time, as it proves a more involved matter of strategy than they'd initially thought. Five hunters can't all be crammed into the trunk, yet if they go in the back then someone will have to sit in with them, and if the priest goes in the trunk then who's to say that he might not seek to escape while in transit, or worse — try to do something to the car, while left in relative privacy. The priest also needs to be as far from Alucard as possible, and preferably not in Trevor's custody, and Sypha shouldn't be left alone with the hunters, and —

It's rather like transporting a wolf, a rabbit, and a chicken across a river with two boats, all things considered.

Eventually, they settle on taking their chances with the priest in the trunk, stack the hunters across the seat in the back, and Trevor sits in with them while Sypha goes up front with Alucard to watch for overall trouble from a better vantage point.]

There. That should do, at least until we make it to the Ladies to drop off the hunters.

[She's still not altogether happy about the prospect of a Belmont being here, for a number of reasons. One is that, to be perfectly simple about it, Belmonts kill vampires, and Alucard happens to be one, and so that's really just a bad combination straight from the get-go. Another is that this particular Belmont is...volatile, to say the least, and the world of vampire society is so incredibly perilous, so desperately in need of immense control and precision, that unpredictability like the Belmont's is nothing short of anxiety-inducing.

Then there's the fact that the man himself is stubborn, bad-tempered, smells, swears, always thinks he knows best, and quite possibly has a death wish, and sometimes it's hard enough as it is just carrying Alucard's issues, without the added complication of trying to pick apart the snarled, dirt-caked knot that is whatever the Belmont is carrying around with him.

And yet she's noticed things, from her place one step removed from vampires and their society, that make her wonder about him. His blue coat from the distant war, the muddled accent he slips into, the way his vowels and consonants sometimes hit in a way that tells her things about where he's been, the places he's assimilated into himself.

When Alucard came to her, his scar was visible, and physical. The Belmont, she thinks, bears a different set of them, and hides his better.

But here she is, subjecting herself to his Opinions, and resisting the urge to "accidentally" freeze his feet to the floor on the pretense of seeing to his ankle.]

Is that what you think I am doing? "Coddling"?

[She doesn't roll her eyes, but it's a barely-restrained thing.]

You know very little of what you're talking about, if you think he is ignoring anything. Stop moving your foot, please.

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