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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This is weird now I know that it's you.

[ But he doesn't let that stop him from petting Alucard, because weird is- probably fine. This is probably a gesture of pity, which means that he's probably doing a shitty job of hiding just how much the storm is getting to him.

And fuck it, it's easier to talk to the dog than it is to talk to person-shaped Alucard. ]

Don't have storms like this back home, is all. Keep thinking- keep thinking we're being fucking shelled.

[You turnip it's because he cares.

There's a soft huff to the first statement, but as Trevor explains, the wolf just blinks to show that Alucard understands. It makes sense that the storm is all too new, but the comparison to the battlefront is a surprise.

(It's a point of contention between Trevor and the entire country, isn't it? That those battlefronts were hardly as seen by the men and women of the US versus Europe, dealing with it for four years.)

He presses in a little closer. Because pets. Keep him doing that, keep him talking and reasoning things out.]

[ There's another crash and a snap - probably a large branch striking against the castle walls. His fingers tighten in Alucard's fur, but he manages not to yell this time. It's easier to tell what the noises are with Alucard here to calm him. ]

Well, turns out I fucking hate big storms. Good to know.

[ And he resumes petting, still tense but- it helps. ]

I'll go out to the mortuary once things have calmed down and any bodies that are going to be claimed by families already have been. Pick myself out a corpse, if you still want rid of me. Shouldn't be difficult - white man, brown hair, have Sypha burn one side of the face to explain the missing scar.

[There's a sympathy whine at hating big storms. They're not fun for anyone, and the castle's height makes them so much worse than they ought to be. But

...damnit. Wolf form can't respond to that second part, not in a meaningful way. Alucard just shakes his head no, because right now being comforting is much more important than correcting Trevor.

So that's a change.]

[Alucard also agrees that they should not be having this conversation while Alucard is driving a moving vehicle. However, that's where the situation is at, and it actually is helping him to remain calm. He can't fly into a rage at the wheel, the other two will get hurt.]

Never mind what was used. Who is the problem, compounded by how they're dealt with.

[He is not calm. There's rage simmering underneath every word, and the worst part of it all is that whoever is responsible will need to meet their end at Alucard's hands. His father would do nothing less, and the council of the other two would meet the same conclusion. Trevor's more brutal and blunt tactics are...they're the only ones that can be used here.]

The answer to the last one will be blood soaked by demand of this station.

[In the end, Alucard's not certain that showing up in a camp of Speakers, shirtless and bleeding, is the best idea he's ever had. However, it is a better plan than showing up on the doorstep of vampires or hunters in this city, because that is pre-emptively announcing to the world that Dracula is fled from the city, and his son is laid low.

The cemetary isn't a wreck, but it'll be written off as terrible vandalism come morning. There are broken gravestones, there are graves with clawmarks scratched on them, there are signs of the fight everywhere. His mother would be horrified. The bishop's death would be more than enough for that, but the rest...his father's reaction, Alucard being stupid enough to try and fight back it's.

It's not what he can be thinking about right now. Every part of his body is trying to heal the wound, every part of his skin is refusing to do so. The first few layers of flesh, they've done it, but everything else is refusing to work. Maybe it's because of who inflicted the wounds, maybe there's no reason to it, but he needs help.

Speakers don't stay in one place for long. They help those who need it. He can ask that this not be shared.

Fuck. He must look a fright, grave dirt in his hair, shirt ripped in two, blood all down his front. A proper vampire, in all the ways that count.]

[ He raises an eyebrow at that, but just continues. ]

We can discuss the specifics once we know the situation. I'm not going fucking anywhere if you don't have this all under control. But if you do- I'd stay, if you'd allow it. Someone needs to feed Bunicuta's cats while she's off on business. And they hate you.

[ And also he doesn't have anywhere else to be, or any people he'd rather be with. The latter may not be obvious, since he still spends a good half of his time being a shit. ]

[There is a softer huff. One that suggests agreement with all of this, but damn if he doesn't want to come out and say we want you to stay, if you'll allow it. Because he and Sypha have talked about this already, and beyond that conclusion, there's been a feeling of beyond just fondness for the Belmont. Even if he's terrible and rude.

Agatha's cats are the devil though.

There's a gentle paw at Trevor's chest. Kind of a wolf hug. An attempt to be reassuring and communicate he's wanted.]

I see. Well, perhaps we will have to try it sometime, just for fun. The part about you tracking me with your components. ...And I suppose maybe the part about me setting you on fire, but that would only be fun for one of us.

[She smiles at him, small but coy. Hopefully he doesn't think she's serious. ...Hopefully.]

Is this the only spell you know, or are there others?

It does matter what was used, because what was used will tell us something important about what we are dealing with. This isn't normal magic, Alucard.

[And maybe she's being a little bit more blunt than she ordinarily would be, but — well. Maybe everything Trevor has always said about coddling is starting to make an impression on her.]

It will narrow the possibilities to a pool of possible suspects. Or at least give a better idea of what we are looking for.

I know it's not normal magic!

[He doesn't slam the breaks, but the snap is out of character and he knows it. Sypha's being logical and calm. Logical and calm is the right frame of mind for this, not a horrible mess of emotions that mean naught by bad judgement.

Allucard takes a moment to exhale.]

...Sorry.

[ They're good cats! You just have to. Have a strong tolerance for being skinned alive in order to love them. ]

Come on, you know Sypha told me to be nice. I can't make an unpleasant joke about you grabbing my chest.

[ It's a complaint. And also an attempt to get around an order by talking about that thing he's not allowed to do. But it's warm. He gets the message. ]

I'll stick around. I'd never find my way out of your big fucking country anyway.

It's true, it's true. You'd be bored out of your mind doing it for purely scientific reasons, and I'd be having the time of my life.

[ Do bad jokes count as being awful? I guess it's time to find out. ]

There are others. Wards, mostly, against specific types of magic or types of creatures. Information gathering, sending messages and defensive shit. I can't use a lot of them here, mind. House rules, can't do anything that might interfere with the castle's enchantments.

[They are NOT GOOD CATS Trevor they hiss and try to bite him!!!

The chest comment gets a side eye. Because it deserves it (and also, shit. He knows.) As for the rest, well, it seems something has finally penetrated that thick skull.]

Awoo.

[It's soft, but also very pleased.]

[Everyone in the Speaker camp knows that it's Dracula's son approaching.

The caravan had come to the city with a purpose, and they'd known the risks they were taking when they came. This area, this whole region, was Dracula's territory. Vampire territory. They knew it would be dangerous, when there were certain to be few allies among the humans and next to none among the supernatural, and no hospitality or goodwill to beg.

And yet they had come, because the elders understood that the story to be collected here was one of vital importance, one that needed to be remembered and handed down through the generations even at the greatest cost, because children of a newer day would need to know, and to remember. Such knowledge needed to be preserved for them.

So they had come, to salvage the story of Lisa Tepes — wife of Dracula, mother of a son.

They're good at traveling, the Speakers. They have the practice of arriving in a city down to nearly an art, or at least a science. Everyone has their own role, their own place; some maintain the camp, and some protect it. Some disguise themselves as average citizens so that the locals will sell them food and supplies. And some, like Sypha, go out to gather information and knowledge, and in her case, money to pay for the food and supplies whenever she has the chance to play a few tricks and earn a few dollars from passing citizens eager to be sold a story themselves.

It had been a good day. Telling fortunes and chatting up the locals had netted her a good turnout — enough that there are bubbling cookpots over campfires and tobacco for pipes and even the luxury of a few sweets, and she's sitting on a fallen log practicing tricks with her tarot cards and runestones when the intruder enters the camp.

It's astounding how all the chatter goes silent in an instant. How the old and the frail are hurried out of sight. How suddenly, abruptly, all eyes converge on the ragged, bloody man-shaped figure in their midst.

Vampire.

They know who it is. This is Dracula's son, the woman Lisa's son. And perhaps that's why it's only her grandfather who dares confront him, and speak.]

For what purpose you come among us, son of Dracula?

[Not challenging. Not aggressive. But unmistakably wary.]

[ He should probably be a little more cautious about shit like that. Not that for all its many, many other flaws, vampire society has ever been in the business of questioning things said between two men the way humans might (god knows that the only reason that Florence's thing with the first Vampire she ever swore to kill is an open secret instead of just plan public knowledge is that both of them enjoy the performance aspect of it). But Alucard and Sypha are practically married.

He doesn't really like to think of himself as in the habit of inviting that kind of unpleasantness upon himself. And he can't exactly go about making this all weird if he's going to be staying. ]

I'll take that as permission to stay.

[ He scratches Alucard's ears, because that is absolutely not making this weird, and looks over the maps again. The sand that's representing the floodwater is starting to slow down its swirling. ]

Water's going to stop rising soon, with any luck.

Medicine.

[He hisses the word out because everything hurts, his head is everywhere, and the last thing Alucard wants to do right now is explain even a fraction of his current state. He is a mess in every way that has ever and will ever mean something. He's barely himself right now.

The word is coupled with a slightly more apologetic look. He heard how that just came across and is right to chastise himself for it, but there's a quicker route to apology.]

Please.

[There's a nod of Alucard's head. Yes, it's permission. He'd rather ask, he'll do it later. Explain it away as he thought it was more important to just be fluffy for a while longer, which it absolutely is. The other two care, and sometimes the easiest way to meet Trevor's needs is to just be like this and say nothing at all.

Alucard huffs softly at all those ear scratches. They do feel nice, and they also seem to have done what they've needed to do. He's...calmer, at least a little bit. Enough to be talking about fucking work because Trevor's ability to turn off sometimes does't exist.

He sighs. Avoids the map for now. The storm's not passed over them just yet, and there's another horrid crash against one of the spires.]

[It's apparent, now, how the circumstances of the situation at hand conflict badly with the code that the Speakers live by. On one hand, they help those who need it. They serve humanity, as best they can. They extend assistance wherever someone requires it.

And yet this is a vampire, and a wounded one at that. Moreover, this is Dracula's son, and the king of vampires is known to have a long memory — long enough to rival that of the collective memory of the Speakers, almost. In the old days, the Speakers were none too loved by Dracula and his following. Now the son is among them, here in their camp, in a place where they may well have trespassed to collect their most vital story of all.

So, then, what to do? Her grandfather chooses a diplomatic tone — not unkind, but firm.]

Your wound is very grievous. It would be better if you sought assistance from your own kind.

[The tension in the air is palpable.]

We mean no harm. Please, leave us in peace.

Bluntly, this cannot be known to them.

[This is a secret thing. It's this or go home (who knows if his father is home). Possibly just die there, or else wait for this thing to never heal. Coming here was a gamble. If this doesn't pay off then...then higher stakes. Home first.

If not home, maybe he can risk a hospital. Maybe. It'd probably better to collapse on Agatha's door, since the sun will threaten soon.

(Alucard can't blame anyone's hesitation. Speakers know who he is, that's one of their skill sets. They can learn a city's ways so quickly, and his person has never been a mystery within the city. Even as he's mostly been apart from the circles of vampires within it.]

[ Work is easy, okay? Work is good. Work is something other than what seems like the entire contents of a forest headbutting the castle.

He yelps at that one, followed by a quiet string of curses. ]

Fuck. [ He curls his fingers in Alucard's fur, trying to calm down. ]

How are you holding up? I know the storm's probably nothing for you, but-

[ This is where the work begins. The storm is terrible, but the worst of it is going to be in the aftermath, putting the pieces back together and stopping anyone else from putting them back together in the wrong way. ]

[Alucard just nuzzles Trevor's wrist. It's the easiest part of Trevor to reach right now, and he leans his weight into Trevor just a bit. A warm and comfy fluffy weight, because that's what is needed right now.

There's also a look of I can't reply to something like that in this form, coupled with a wearier snuff. He'll take the storm to what comes next any day of the week.]

[Her grandfather stiffens a little, drawing just a touch more upright as silence hangs in the air a minute. Eventually, though, he speaks again with that same patient calm.]

We would prefer not to be caught up in the intrigues of your society. We can offer you medicine, for what small good it will do, but you must leave us.

[But from her log, Sypha is watching this unfold quietly, cautiously. There's something about the vampire that looks...defeated, almost. She's good at reading people from a distance — perhaps the best in the caravan, really. And there are tells to the vampire that she suspects her grandfather isn't seeing — the flicker in his eyes when he was initially rebuffed. The way he's thinking behind the mask of his expression, considering possibilities — like he's already resigned to the thought that coming here will prove fruitless for him.]

I understand. That's...that'll do. Thank you.

[He forgot that this would be dragging them into vampire nonsense if it ever got out. The man's right, it's a great risk and he's the eldest. This call is made for the whole, not for the want of a single bleeding idiot who's turned up on the proverbial doorstep.

He takes a few steps back to show that he understands the peril, that he'll loiter just a a little further away to help if that's what they need.]

[Carefully, her grandfather angles just enough to search across the campground for her, nodding slightly when he can see that she's watching, and makes a slight gesture with an incline of his head to direct her. Keeping her eyes low, she pockets her cards and her runestones, heading for the tent where the supplies are kept —

And hesitates a minute, crouching in front of the chest of remedies, mulling over the little spectacle she'd watched. There's something nagging at her, something she can't place. Something above and beyond just the code of the Speakers and their charge to help those in need. Something that leaves her breathless, and she can't explain why.

She chews her lip, and before she can think better of it, she finds the paper bag that the day's shopping had come in, tearing a piece free and flattening it on her knee. Finding something to write with is more complicated, but she manages to find a loose twig and chars the end of it with a breath of fire, and scratches marks onto the torn scrap of paper in haste.

Finished, she blows on it to clear it of debris and folds it into quarters, then picks up a jar of salve and a roll of bandage, and tucks the note carefully inside the latter before trotting out to rejoin her grandfather.]

Here you are.

[She offers them carefully, holding the note against her palm so that only a small sliver of it shows, and offers them to the vampire, watching him with an almost scrutinizing gaze.]

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20s AU Post

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