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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[I can't, she thinks bitterly, holding on so tight to the spell in her hands that her vision is swimming, that the world is going dark around the corners. I can't, it's too much, it's above and beyond staying alert and surviving and her body doesn't even feel like her own anymore, from how empty and ragged she is. I can't, she almost says, and aches for the snap of Trevor's whip, the shriek of Alucard's sword, but there's none of that here; it's only the two of them.

Except that then the noise registers. The sound that escapes Alucard's throat, the one she heard without processing because everything seems to be on a five-second delay through the quagmire of her perception. It hits her, and like a flashbulb she's back seated on a log in the camp with her family, playing with tarot cards and runestones and watching, quietly, as the son of Dracula had staggered in to ask for help —

(strings in her hands, needle and thread. You can put a spell into my hand? The noises he makes, her hands on his chest. Sypha...! The wreckage of the bathroom, the claw marks in the walls. Sypha! Her Alucard, her Adrian, you mustn't touch my blood, ripped open and pale, his father's fault, his father, she would protect him from anything she would protect him from him she will never never never let anything take her Adrian away)

— she doesn't know where she finds the strength. Maybe it's something woven into her very soul, something deeper even than conscious intent. Trevor's faith. Alucard's determination.

Her resilience and resolve, to be what her loved ones need her to be.

Her fingers fly out; down through those invisible strings courses white-hot magic, blue magic, her magic, and this time the chain reaction goes in reverse, one that erupts with explosions like firecrackers along a chain, racing the walls and shattering the spells that had animated the shadows at their very source, until nothing is left but scarred, warped brown paint in a dull, dark hue.]

[He's still bleeding. He has to press his shirt to the wound, and so in the car, they will return to the beginning but worse for it. Back at the beginning there had only been the inkling of some deeper connection, no overwhelming urge to wrap around each other and cling with all the stress and exhaustion and fear melting away now that she is here, here, here. She was a doctor, as good as any and more clever than most. He had been proactive in making his needs known, and that was all he expected. Caution around his blood. Clever ways to make a terrible wound easier to bear. Now...

The question of where Sypha's ability springs forth is not a matter Alucard has ever wondered about, so when her intent is known all Alucard wonders is how long it can be maintained. These bursts, he's had them all week. So has Trevor. It is only right and fair that Sypha have one in the most important moment, and...

...oh hell, he has to move before all of the debris hits them. In a burst of speed Alucard reaches the door, claws clattering against the metal knob, flinging it open.

Sunlight has hit the side street that the door is on in just the right way, allowing them to burst not into more shadows, but blessed heat and sunshine. Alucard lets out a sharp whistle, because he promised the stupid demon car that he would let it know when they were coming.

(Alucard's not sure if the demon car can drive itself in an emergency. They may be about to find out.)]

Likely.

[ He allows himself to sigh. That’s the closest thing to emotion that he’s going to be having for the next week. He’s been sighing a lot. ]

He’s hiding her, but he’s not hiding himself. Maybe he slipped up, maybe he didn’t know I could do this, maybe it’s a big fucking trap. Odds are even either way.

Trap. I'll bet it's a trap, because he won't discount the use of other magic users to try and find them if I pay them enough to not breathe a word about what the situation is.

[Alucard finally does retract his claws, and then his arms are crossed over his chest.]

It's probably safer to work under the assumption of trap as well. I know it will...[keep his rage checked.] curb my impulses.

[The demon car is a good boy. A good boy like Sypha wanted. She is the only thing it loves on this earth (for a given value of "love", being that it's a demon we're talking about here), and it has predictably been crabby and inconsolable the entire time she's been missing.

Yet almost even before the sound of Alucard's whistle has faded away, the roar of a hellfire engine ricochets through the air, and within moments around the bend comes Sypha's demon roadster, engines working double time as it screeches up to meet them like a good and proper getaway car.]

...You brought my car...

[It would honk the horn in acknowledgement, except that we're trying to be stealthy. Instead, the door merely pops open, almost impatient as it awaits its mistress and her boy friend guy thing.]

We're going to have to talk about the car later.

[And by talk, Alucard means confess that he spent an entire hour of his life getting into a screaming match with the demon car with it honking over him. Trevor had suffered the most for that argument, what between vampire noises and the endless honking. Alucard still needed to make it up to him, but that was for later.

Alucard rushes forward to it. The doors are already open. He barrels in, causing it to rock and sway, and then he crouches so that Sypha can finally slide off of his back and onto the seat. There are blankets there already, soft well worn, Trevor's natural musk and Alucard's sandalwood and amber hair oil and Sypha's own natural scent on it. Enough comfort for her to be wrapped in until they're home.

He can't stay in the back holding her. The blood, he has to keep it away from her for just a little while more. Even with the blanket as a barrier, even with his coat, he can't take the risk.]

Let go. It will be just for a few minutes, I promise.

[She doesn't want to. Instinctively, she still tries to hold on, still wants to cling to the lifeline that is Alucard and his rescue, at least while they're still in close proximity to the necromancer's workshop — as though she still half expects to be sucked back down into its depths somehow, drawn back in and held captive again.

But no. Her car is here, her Alucard is here, and she needs to do as he says. He'll take care of it. He'll take care of her, like she took care of him back then.]

S'better than leaves and dirt...

[She says, as she slowly releases him and sinks into the blankets instead, burying her face in them and breathing in all the familiar scents of safety and security and home.]

M'tired.

[The adrenaline of their escape will wear off any moment, she knows. Better she warn him in advance, so he doesn't panic if she abruptly goes silent in the back.]

Rest. We'll get you in the bath when we're home.

[The blanket is blessedly large. He stole it from the laundry room at the last minute, and seeing the way that Sypha sinks into it, it was clearly the right move. The last thing that Alucard does is tug more of the blanket out from under Sypha, and he bundles her up as carefully as time will allow for.

It's the cooler months still, and she is too light. The extra warmth is needed. As much a thing of practicality as comfort, and it is all the satisfaction he can manage right now.

Then rather than hop out of the car and in again, he climbs into the driver's seat and quickly. He and the demon car are at odds often, but this situation has ensured they are agreed about Sypha's safety. The doors are already closed, so all Alucard must do is slam on the gas pedal.

Home. They're going home. He won't even run the necromancer over on the street if he sees the man because it isn't as important as getting Sypha home.

Out of the corner of his eye, there's a whisp of smoke.

Oh. Oops. He forgot that little bit of battery energy that didn't go out after a few moments. What a shame.]

Will it?

[ There’s a hint of accusation to that question. Because he saw how Alucard changed when Sypha was threatenned. Saw how he became more vampire than human. He doesn’t- doesn’t want to think of himself as not trusting Alucard.

But he is Alucard now, not Adrian. And it’s hard to imagine him ever being Adrian again right now. ]

Yes. [Alucard can accept the accusation. He has been unsure of his own self control in the worst moments, knowing full well that his behavior edged too close to what Belmonts are trained to take out. His crossed arms become tighter, nearly hugging himself to bring more control into his head.]

Because it threatens our success. I cannot allow that, especially if I am the threat.

[She feels the car shake all over, as if consumed by a thrill of satisfaction to have her back with it once more, and then they're off and going and she can finally, finally rest, even if there's a little part of her that isn't sure she ought to.

It's hard to refuse, though. The claw marks in her skin leftover from when Alucard had tried to hold on to her a week ago had been left untreated, and the skin around the scrapes is now red and tight. Her head aches; her stomach gnaws with hunger to the point that it feels like it's turning inside out. But the cushion beneath her is so soft in comparison to the wood floor, and the blanket smells like home. There was magic shared between all three of them today, and they're going home.

Before the darkness of oblivion takes her, she remembers the shadows on the wall, and all the intent wrapped up in that hideous little workshop, and shivers.]

Mm.

[ He can’t feel. He won’t let himself. But if he could, he’d be wishing that he were more convinced by that.

It’s a day later, now, and he’s not slept. He hasn’t allowed himself to look through Dracula’s magical research, not since he came here. It feels wrong, it’s what his sister would call bad shit. And also at least some of these books are bound in the skin of people related to him. It’s the only reason he’s able to open half of them. So that’s upsetting.

He needs to identify the substance that he wiped from the sword, see what it can do compared to blood, and- ]

...Alucard. You’ll be doing this alone.

[Alucard had managed three hours of sleep. It was a record, and he had done it curled up in a broken chair on the floor in the tantrum room, not anyplace actually comfortable. He had wandered to the kitchen for blood after that, exhausted and knowing he needed something in his system.

Then it was time to find Trevor again, and it had become sitting and quietly going through his father's research. Alucard's sitting beside Trevor, his nose buried in one of the books when Trevor speaks.

Alucard freezes. His voice is so very small.]

...What?

Edited 2019-02-04 01:37 (UTC)

[The car had gotten then both home. Alucard barely steered it, and in that there was a blessing. (As much as a demon car could ever give blessings.) He was free to concentrate on Sypha's breathing, making sure she was with him in all the ways that mattered, in looking in the mirrors to ensure the necromancer did not follow him home. The blood from his chest didn't matter, nothing did, nothing mattered until the demon car was home and in the garage and Trevor was already there waiting and then everything else became triage.

Alucard had to see to himself. That left Trevor in charge of Sypha, and if there needed to be any more proven trust between the three of them, that was it. Watching her be carried off and cared for by the person who frankly had just ensured that they both survived the necromancer's workshop. In better times, Alucard might stop and sigh from happiness.

It wasn't better times. He had to take care of another gaping chest wound, and that had his time and concentration. Compared to the blow dealt by his father, the cut was nothing, but...

...but it had information that could be extracted, and so Alucard forced himself to wait for everything else to be seen to before asking Trevor to take whatever samples he could. There were spots of black ichor clinging to the wound, and as those were cleaned out, Alucard's skin began to heal as it usually did. But unlike usual, there was a mark from it. Deep and dark magic, the kind that would scar anyone who let it get it's hooks into them.

Then there was only one thing left to do: retreat into their room. Their room, their bed where none of them had been for a week, both Trevor and Alucard curled around Sypha to form a wall around her. Arms clinging. Faces buried into wherever they could reach, secure in the knowledge that such an arrangement would not change.

It is not until two days later, when he is gathering up the breakfast dishes (Sypha is getting breakfast in bed for a week at least) that Alucard well and truly realizes what the marks on Sypha's arms are. His focus has been on her simply being in the house, being in his arms, being in Trevor's arms, being there that anything like damage has been considered in full. Those are not necromancer marks.

The tray full of dishes get sets aside. Placed onto the ground, and Alucard settles at the edge of the bed.]

Do you need anything else right now?

[His hands rest flat on the mattress.]

[It's a little strange to be the one recuperating and doted on, for a change; she's so used to being the one seeing to the others, worrying about them and mending them however she can, that it's strange to have nothing more to do but to lie still in their bed and let herself be fussed over. They don't leave her alone; one or both of them are always close at hand, there when she opens her eyes after a doze and there as her eyelids fall closed as exhaustion reclaims her. She doesn't remember the bandages going on her arms, or the salve on her scrapes and bruises. Maybe that's for the better.

The one silver lining of her captivity, as it turns out, had been that the immobility had given her little else to do but lie still and drowse, which had helped a great deal with the concussion she'd received from the blow to the head in the morgue. Not as good as if she'd had immediate medical treatment for it, but still, better than it might've been otherwise. Slowly, the headaches are lessening, and the constant nourishment is doing her good. She's on the mend, at least physically.

Psychologically — well, that's another matter. But Trevor and Alucard are here. They're here, they're never far away.

(She'd asked them to get rid of all of the mirrors in the room, and to keep the lights on day and night. It's a selfish thing, but of course they'd given it to her. They would give her anything, these days.)

It's Alucard taking a shift with her now, and her eyelids are heavy as she watches him, not really wanting to fall back asleep but tempted to from how consumed with comfort she is, full of breakfast and warm and safe and listening blessedly to the familiar sound of his voice.]

...Did someone listen to my radio show?

[She'd been gone for a week; she'd missed the latest installment. Not that she'd had the chance to worry about it at the time, but now that things are settling back to normal, it's a small sadness to contend with.

She's also speaking French, in part because that's somehow just what her aching head had settled on as being easiest (soft consonants, familiar vowels, rolling easily off her tongue and forgiving if they mush together or slur with sleepiness), and in part because it's easiest on Trevor, while still making herself understood across the board.]

I'm afraid not. Our understanding of time was...tenuous at best, most days.

[He won't lie about the obvious facts, the things she could infer without either of them explaining the nuts and bolts of how they functioned in her absence. Sypha knows them far too well now. Neither of them did well. Radio shows were the very last thing on their minds. They'll have to bring in the radio to the bedroom for the next episode (or perhaps carry her out to it.)

Alucard's responses have been in English this whole time. His spoken French is more localized than the other two, and it takes more time for them to parse the particulars out. (It is still not his Romanian.)

His hand moves back, and it rests gently on Sypha's middle. Cooler hands against soft and warm blankets, the trim of his bathrobe falling against the fabric. His pressure is gentle, scared that he might press against a bruise too hard.]

I'm sorry.

Mmmm.

[That feels nice, actually. The familiar weight of his hand, cool but not unpleasant, on her stomach. A touch she welcomes, after a week of flinching away from every attempt.]

S'my fault. I was careless.

[Whether she was or she wasn't, it's easier to simply accept the blame for it than let Trevor or Alucard carry the burden of guilt themselves.]

No.

[It's a soft response, but firm.]

None of us can let our thoughts go down that road. That way lies madness.

[His father's kind of madness, the madness of guilt and grief that causes one to do such stupid things. Then there is Alucard's other hand, searching for Sypha's. He does not wish to disturb all the layers and warmth wrapped around her, but he must make a point. The only point worth making right now.

When he takes her hand in his, he watches as a sleeve rolls down. The clawmarks, those cause him to flinch, but he cannot dwell on that. He can only lean down, down just enough to press a featherlight kiss to where one of them begins. His eyes close, his hair hangs down, brushing against her forearms.]

This is the only careless thing in the equation. The only thing any of us must ask forgiveness for.

[ It’s hard not to feel a little guilty. Alucard has been asleep for a full day now, and there’s a grim certainty forming within him that he absolutely pushed the vampire’s body past even his significant limits. Not that Alucard was being any more delicate with himself, but- hopefully the strain won’t have done any permanent damage. But, as he has become so fond of saying, sometimes this is what victory looks like.

It’s harder to say that when it’s not about himself.

Alucard is asleep at one side of Sypha. And he, until he left the bed, was on the other. He returns shortly, of course. He has tea. Tea and a selection of the many, many get well soon gifts sent by his grandmothers. In this case, romanian apple cake and painkillers of a strength he’s not sure is actually legal from a jar that Florence keeps behind her sunday plates. ]

...you awake? [ He whispers as he sets the tray down, gathering up cushions from around the room for Sypha to sit back against. ]

Why?

[It's an honest question, amid the sleepiness. Her eyelids are fluttering, drooping down until her eyes are nearly shut before half-opening again, punctuated by quiet yawns and a faintly listing head.]

It was you, wasn't it...? Holding me.

[Trying to hold on to her, she means. That night. She'd been blindfolded, she doesn't actually know.]

Because I drew your blood. I promised myself I would never do that the moment you told me to meet you at those crossroads.

[It is about causing injury. He does not regret holding her so tight. He only regrets the harm. He's careful as he kisses along the line he has left in her, moving, up, up, up until the scar fades close to her elbow.

Other vampires will look at those lines, look at Alucard's hands, and they will see the word mine. He cannot imagine a worse thing for them to think of something that came from terror and desperation.]

...the incense. You recall it? From before.

[ He sighs. He would hate this so, so much, if he could only feel anything. As it is, his tone is perfectly even. ]

That’s Belmont shit. Unless someone else created the same thing without Dracula taking notice.

Yes. It dulled my senses, made me want to...[He gestures with his hand, searching for words.] Docile. It made me docile.

[He hadn't had the time to really digest that fact before. But now...oh. Oh fuck.]

My sources were wrong. Or worse, lied to.

[She notices the loss of warmth from Trevor's side of her, of course. That, and the way that his movement had shifted the mattress — the floor had been still and unforgiving for the past week, so now it's as though she's unusually aware of when things move beneath her, shifting and repositioning, just because it's so different a sensation from what she'd grown accustomed to.

Alucard is fairly latched onto her, at this point; his breath is steady against her shoulder, and if she left it long enough she would lull back into drowsy, shallow slumber herself, but then she hears the sound of Trevor coming back and makes herself stay awake just a little longer, head angling to watch for him to return.]

Yes.

[She's speaking French; that's just what she'd settled on as easiest, somehow, half conscious choice and half just because that's what fell most naturally from her tongue when she'd tried to start speaking.]

Why are you?

Which means the other books could be out there, and we know that he has a source for at least one.

[ It’s possible that their nevromancer doesn’t know. There was a whole lot of Belmont bloodup for grabs when they fought the tiger, after all. But maybe he does, and that maybe is just enough. ]

We wouldn’t need to fail to lose, if I were there. We’d be lost the second I suffered so much as a paper cut. With my blood, he may be able to control the castle.

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Page 51 of 141

20s AU Post

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