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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[ Wow, rude. He's doing his best! He just chooses to ignore that question. ]

Not sure, honestly. It'd fuck it up if there were another written component on it, without a doubt. Don't know about other spells. I'm pretty hopeless at any that I can't write.

[When everything is said and done, when they're slowly untangling themselves, that's when it's clear exactly how well and truly beyond Trevor's been rendered by the evening. Words are impossible. It's probably lucky that he remembers how to breathe, he's so very, very beautiful and so very blissed out.

Sypha's the one best qualified to gently bring Trevor back to himself. Alucard can only watch for the first few moments in quiet wonder. He could never do this. Sypha's hands are too deft, too skilled, everything Alucard's aren't when it comes to magic.

At her signal, Alucard shifts and moves so that his head is against Trevor's chest. Still his favorite place to be, but he's careful as he eases against Trevor. Being overwhelmed is one thing. Being oversensitive is another, and that's what he is trying to account for in that moment.

Alucard looks up Trevor and presses a kiss to what he can reach of Trevor's jaw. Words would spoil this, so he stays so very, very quiet.]

That's still a few days away.

[Not many. But...but it's something, isn't it?]

When does it come back again?

I made Alucard a pair of slippers that warm themselves, so they are never cold when he puts his feet in them. I could try to put it on top of your blanket, when it's done. If you'd like.

[The radio crackles; the usual show pregaming begins to roll out of the the device speaker, just as it does every week, and she visibly straightens up and gravitates toward it as the promise of the show starting abruptly draws nigh.]

A week and a half after. So —

[She ticks a count off on her fingers, quickly, working the numbers.]

If not at the end of this week, then we will have to last until two weeks from now.

There would be other trains, but if that truly is where you mean to travel next...

[Then this train is the only option.

God, they've ruined their own evening.]

[She drops her head, staring down at herself, her knees, the pretty secondhand fabric skimming over them because she'd worn this dress for him, worn it to be looked at, because she likes him and she likes the attention he shows her and now it's all going to be gone. Gone, because the city isn't safe. Gone, because of who she is, what she is.

She doesn't even realize she's crying until something hot and damp spatters against the back of her hand, and she realizes her eyes feel swollen and tight with the blur of the tears in them.]

M...Maybe I should...go...

Oh-

[ He looks over the blanket in thought. Because he's a european in the american south at the height of summer. Why would anyone ever want to be warmer here. ]

That sounds like the most useless fucking spell there is in this city, honestly. Could you do cool instead of warm? Overheating sounds like more of a risk, and they can always put another blanket underneath it-

[There's too much quiet now. Alucard hates it. The sound of fabric catches his attention, but he feels terrible looking up and seeing Sypha hunched over and staring down, miserable.

He gets up from the armchair he's in and moves over. Dares to sit down on the loveseat next to her, and there is a very uncertain hand resting beside her. Offered without really offering, unsure if this is at any point appropriate.]

I ought to see you back.

Shhh! Be quiet, the show is starting.

[It'll occur to her, later, the error she's just made here. But unthinkingly, she makes a little shooing motion with her hand and offers that unintentional order, fixated on the rich, smooth voice of the narrator about to begin.]

We can talk more about it later.

You can't walk all that way in your condition.

[She needs to change, she reminds herself. Needs to peel herself out of his foolish, pretty dress that he said suits her so well. It doesn't. She is a Speaker, and she will always be a Speaker, and things in the night kill Speakers, and there is no helping it, no changing it.

It's stifling, somehow. It twists her chest and tightens her throat and leaves it hard for her to breathe, and it takes her a minute to realize that it's because she's holding her breath to swallow back a sob.]

It's not that dark out.

[It's absolutely that dark out.]

I have a car.

[He says it flatly. Because while it's so kind that she thinks of what his physical aliments are, there's a simpler solution. One that means a quicker farewell, but one that is also much safer.

Alucard breathes out, and to hell with it. He puts his hand atop Sypha's thigh carefully. It is a light touch, easy for her to knock away.]

Yes, I'm sure no one will wonder where I've been or who I have been with, if I am returned to the camp I should not even be gone from in a car by —

[But the thought abruptly comes to a standstill as his hand brushes against her leg, whispers over the thin layer of fabric between his skin and hers, and she looks up at him slowly, with her cheeks still streaked with tears and her blue eyes uncertain.

She does not, however, knock his hand away.]

It's nothing to just...put you a block or two away....

[The words die on his lips. Alucard's certain that he's committed some terrible breech in protocol, done something unacceptable, and oh...

...he looks utterly broken at the tears on her face. His fault. His stupid fault.]

[She looks at him a minute, still feeling wrung-out and awful, despairing of the broken expression on his face and the fast-brimming wave of new tears welling up in her eyes, and before she can think better of it, before she can even think to begin with, she whispers: ]

Either touch me or don't, Adrian.

[Unfiltered. Reckless, maybe. Dictated by emotion, rather than rational thought.]

[Good news: that statement surprises him enough to wipe any sadness off his stupid pale face. It's replaced with a dumbfounded look, because wait. What? He hasn't moved his hand and...

...oh god the rest of him's moving without permission. Because sure this is an appropriate time to dare and attempt a kiss. Exactly dead bang on perfection.]

[ The next few words die in his throat.

Well. Shit.

He isn't usually bound to orders quite this strongly, but Sypha's powerful. It's- honestly kind of a potential problem, but she doesn't casually give instructions with intent behind them that often. It's only been a few times, and things like 'finish your food, he worked hard on it' or 'can you behave yourself for five minutes' aren't too much of an issue.

This, though, is an instruction with intent behind it that actually might cause problems eventually. There's no inherent limit on it. But it's not a problem yet. She's listening to her thing. He may as well just wait to see if she figures out the issue.

He can't even sigh too loudly as he tries to return to his knitting, struggling to do so without letting the needles click against each other. ]

[She's ready and waiting for him, when he moves. She doesn't have the time or the opportunity to wonder if perhaps she knows what she's doing when it comes to this better than he does; what matters is that he angles in toward her, and she already knows what angle to tilt her chin at to meet him properly, and thus, there it is, a kiss.

It's a kiss that aches, laced through with warring emotion — with fear, with sadness, with the rawness that accompanies futility. It's filled with need; it's sharp with desire. She wants to be kissed, wants to be wanted, and the intensity of that aspect of it frightens her a little, because of how powerfully it hits her. This is hers, just hers, and there are so few things in the world that are, but it is and she doesn't want to lose it.

That's why, maybe, she doesn't waste time before pushing on him, guiding him to sit back far enough that she can climb over him and sit straddling his lap facing him. It makes it easier for her to kiss him, facing him head-on instead of having to twist to the side; it makes it safer for his stitches, because this way she can partially protect them as she leans into him. It makes it easier for him to hold on to her.

And it makes it impossible for him to get rid of her, because her weight is pinning him to the couch, and she doesn't want to go.]

When I told you I should go — why didn't you ask me to stay?

[There's a hint of desperation in her tone that she doesn't intend to be there, and yet there it is.]

Don't you want me to?

[It takes Alucard four long days to show his face after they capture the Bishop from his meeting at the crossorads. He is in the deepest parts of the castle for those days, letting every emotion run wild. Get out of his system. Let him take it all in, so that when he reemerges, it can be with the face he needs to fulfil the office the city requires him to take on.

Four days also means that all the spellwork for determining who has done such necromantic horrors to can be put into place. Alucard's informed of the complexity, of how some of it was hidden in layers and layers to cloak the one responsible, but in the end, it all traces back to Damien. There's a sick sense to it, after all. He had forced Trevor into Alucard's charge months back to prove that Alucard was a poor fit for Dracula's charge of the city. This was a new way to prove the point, praying on a raw spot and disguising it all as an incompetent princeling who can'r protect his own city from a few overeager hunters. It had nearly worked.

It was beautiful reverse spellwork. Nearly enough to offset Alucard's raw anger at the situation, but then there was new anger: the evidence needed to be replicated by others, because it had no weight coming from Trevor or Sypha. Not because they were human, but because they were too close to Alucard. An independent party had to do it instead, and so that was done. A few members of the local coven. Three vampires with no love of Alucard at all. A panel of elder vampires to know that none of this was biased. All witnesses gathered to watch Alucard make a simple declaration: Damien would be dead for attacking his own people. That was what justice demanded.

The night of the execution saw Alucard leave alone, dressed as he had been the first time. Black and gold, sword at his side, grim expression. But what was unleashed there was different. There was no denying a public death for this, nor was there denying the fact the Bishop would die first, Damien watching. For that horrible shell of a man, Alucard reserved nothing. Dorian's death was a thing of anger at a single situation. The bishop? That was anger for everything. His mother's death, his father's attack and abandonment, everything, everything, everything (everything that wasn't Trevor or Sypha.) He was torn limb from limb. The head flung into the assembled crowd. He was drenched in terrible dark red-black blood before he even turned on Damien, and then the same treatment was given to the offending vampire.

Afterward, when all assembled began to go towards the doors, a single figure walked in instead. Apologized for being late, had she missed the execution? Alucard stared down at her, soaked in blood, and the room named the vampire for him in hushed whispers. Carmilla.

Fuck.

Everyone filed out. She stayed. They spoke as politely as they could, because Alucard might rule the city, but Carmilla was old. Her age was currency that no one, not even the Son of Dracula, could ignore. Politeness meant she told him who she was staying with. (THe kin of an older friend.) Politeness meant inviting her to the townhouse in two days, because a distinguished guest in the city couldn't not be granted a private audience. Politeness meant staying far too late, and then having to smile at her as she left the cursed execution house.

Alucard returns home late. He storms in, and uses magic to project his voice.]

My office. It's an emergency.

[His tone is furious and barely restrained.]

[Alucard is now certain that he shouldn't have done that, because does he need to have even more emotions to deal with on top of everything else? He's greiving twice over, for his mother and for his father's departure, he's living in fear for what the city might do as it is too finely balanced right now, he's well and truly alone for the first time in his life, and here he is kissing (and being kissed back) by someone who he knows will be leaving in just a few days.

It's a hurricane (he's familiar enough with those), and in the eye of it is the tiniest bit of normalacy, of happiness that the past few hours have provided. It's why when Sypha's emotions are all caught up in her response and how she moves on top of Alucard in full, he can only respond. Let instinct try and take over (he's dated before) with his hands resting on her hips.

Moreoevr, he tries to match her intensity once it's on full display. The need, the need is what he picks up on the most, and fuck if that's not an undercurrent to his emotional state as well.

He's pinned in more than one way.]

...How can I demand anyone give up their family?

[His response is soft and measured. What response did she expect?]

[Under ordinary circumstances, she would notice right away that something is wrong. It's not like Trevor to go so abruptly and unnaturally silent; if she weren't distracted, she would sense it immediately. But she's excited about her radio show, and engrossed in listening to it, and so for the time being she simply assumes that he's being quiet because he knows how much she looks forward to this all week, and is trying to be a gentleman about it.

It's a lively installment of the show. She laughs softly at the clever bits, sighs in delight at some of the vivid descriptions it offers up. Once or twice she steals a glance at Trevor, but he doesn't seem to be reacting much; he's barely made a peep.

Oh, well. It's her guilty pleasure, not his. Let him knit; she's excited enough to enjoy it for the both of them.]

[ They're asleep when he enters. In one of the guest rooms, because it's a reasonable guess that Alucard won't want to be himself-shaped for a while and he doesn't like it afterwards if he gets fur on their own bed. It's a smaller bed, but big enough to fit two people with a wolf tucked neatly between them if needed.

He dresses quickly (mornings of being showered, shaved, dressed and bed made within ten minutes have left him with at least a few good habits) and leaves Sypha to get into work clothes while he makes coffee. Because it's 4am, and even he doesn't function brilliantly at this hour of the morning.

Sypha is not dressed properly by the time he arrives at the office, just wearing his own coat over her nightdress. He sets down the three cups of coffee and just sighs at her. ]

I brought work clothes down for you.

Thank you.

[Alucard sheds all of the bloodstained clothes with his back to the others. It takes no time at all, he's working at vampire speed and they've all seen each other naked enough to hardly care about what they're looking at.]

Belmont, I need everything your family knew about Carmilla. Now.

[It's only half the answer she'd asked for — the why of the puzzle. He doesn't address the more important of the two, the don't you want me to, and she's not sure if his lack of an answer isn't really an answer all in itself.]

I meant tonight. When I said that I should go back to our camp.

[It makes her shiver, though, to see where his mind had gone to instinctively. He's not thinking of her leaving or staying in terms of tonight; he's thinking of it in terms of forever.]

You look at me like you think I'm beautiful. But you can't say that you want me...?

[ He's not yet grasped the basics of knitting normally. Knitting without letting the needles strike each other is a little much to ask of him. By the end of the show he's dropped as many stitches as he's made and the best possible option at this point may well be to unravel the whole thing and start again. He would sigh dramatically (or, more likely, swear), but he can't. So he settles for just scowling at the failed blanket as he continues throwing effort at it as if he can make it become a workable thing through sheer force of determination.

The show draws to a close, and he's still silently being furious at his knitting. ]

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Page 32 of 141

20s AU Post

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