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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And I have just taken what you two call a depression nap so I can say with all confidence that you do not need to worry.

[More importantly, he nudges Sypha. Gentle. Starting to scoot towards the edge of the bed and taking her with him.]

You will need to let go for a moment.

No —

[It's stupid, really, to have such an immediate and kneejerk reaction to something as simple as let go for a moment, but even despite the fondness and the calm that have settled around them for the duration, the prospect of losing contact with him for even an instant makes something cold spark in the pit of her stomach, and before she even realizes it her hand is clasped around his arm, unexpectedly tight in its unconscious desperation.]

...I.

[But then it hits her, how ridiculous that is, how foolish she feels. He's here, and he's not going anywhere. Why is she reacting like this, about something so inconsequential?]

...I mean. I...

[The tightness is of no matter. Bruising force for Alucard is quite a lot more pressure than what Sypha is exerting at this very moment, and so he doesn't blink.

The sentiment though, that makes him ache. His arms releasing her, Trevor's arms, this will be the first hurdle to conquer.

He kisses her forehead, all reassurance and coolness trying to calm that desperation. Alucard remembers that terrible feeling, he hated when it overcame him in a wave.]

I understand.

[ He doesn’t care.

He actually doesn’t care, and under normal circumstances the only thing he would care about is Alucard’s discomfort. ]

The fuck should I know? Your father didn’t give a shit about what it did to people, only that it worked. We find out now, and if you don’t like it then you get to choose whether you like this or me having fangs less.

[ He’ll regret saying that, later. Regret it so much. Regret saying that whatever comes of this, Alucard deserves it because it’s no more than his father did to others. Regret a lot of things he’s said this week, because there’s anger in them even if he can’t manage more than a neutral tone. For now, though, he’s drawing circles. ]

This is your idea, forgive me if I thought you'd have an inkling of an idea on the topic. It isn't as if I'm putting my entire sense of self in your hands to control.

[Alucard's back to spitting and hissing anger. It's too easy to come by in this moment. He knows what it sounds like, knows who it sounds like, and they're back where they've started. His father's long fucking shadow and the two of them too scarred by loss to deal with things rationally.]

[ He pulls her as close at he can, shifting a little so that he can lie against the pile of pillows that he made for her. ]

You’re fourteen years old, but you say that you’re eighteen. You think you must be all done with growing, but you’re not. You don’t even need to shave yet. And you’re terrified when you enlist, because you’re in a country you don’t know and using a name that isn’t yours, and then they tell you that they want men to fly. And you never even knew that was a thing that people did, because the only men you’ve ever known to fly are the kinds of men who hurt people. And it slips you’re mind that they want you to hurt people, as well, just in a different way. All you can think of is ‘fuck you, vampires, I can do this too’.

And you’ve seen planes before, but only ever in flight. They’re ugly things on the ground. But they tell you that they need men with your height and build, men who aren’t afraid to do what men can’t do- and the sky practically feels like your fucking birthright when they say it that way, because you’re the fucking consequence of men not being afraid to do what men can’t do.

No taste for it when it isn’t you making choices for me?

[ Another thing he’ll regret saying. He knows what a low blow that is when aimed at Alucard. Knows that ‘don’t die or turn’ isn’t a particularly restrictive or unreasonable set of demands. Doesn’t care.

And the voice comes from Trevor’s lips, but it’s also coming from inside Alucard’s head. Trevor it still writing down his spell, drawing circles and runes out desperately as Alucard approaches his table, placing his palms flat against it.

And Alucard does, in fact, do this. ]

For the love of...

[He stops because the double voice of Trevor throws Alucard for a terrible loop. His stomach churns (blood calls to blood), and he has to steady himself after realizing that it's just the magic working.

Then his hands move without Alucard's say so, and when he swears it betrays exactly how raw he feels in this moment. They're fighting over the worst of his father's legacy, Sypha's status is unknown, they're arguing about turning on the back burner, and Alucard's moving without his own say so.

It's this or turning. That's the only thought he repeats in his head. Lets it become a mantra.]

[ He can only write one thing at a time, and that’s the only thing keeping him from making notes. Even though he can feel just what this is doing to Alucard, how terrifying it is to have ones body move without telling it to, even though it would be so terribly distateful to do it right now. This is fascinating. He is limited in the spells he can cast by his own inability to form intent, but Alucard is not (and there is maybe a little horror on his part, that he thinks he can use this spell to force him to form intent). There is so much, so much that he could do suddenly, if he only does so through Alucard.

He keeps writing the spell, testing motor control, making each of Alucard’s fingers move in turn. When he finally stops for a moment, he closes his eyes and looks at the room through Alucard’s instead. It’s a slightly higher vantage point, and that’s odd in a way that none of the rest of this feels for some reason. While he isn’t writing, Alucard’s body is his own again. ]

This will work. [ He says, the anger forgotten for the moment and replaced by absolute certainty. His control is gone, while he isn’t writing, but his words are still audible from both inside and outside of Alucard’s mind. ] I’ll be able to find her like this, I’m sure of it. I just need to cast the spell through you.

...Do you?

[She hasn't let go of his arm, but some of the fight is seeping back out of her beneath the reassurance of his kiss. Her fingers loosen just a fraction, even if they don't properly let go altogether.]

That would make one of us who does, I think.

[Trevor writes. Trevor writes and focuses and Alucard repeats his mantra. It begins fast and terrified but by the time motor control begins to be tested, Alucard has found some kind of equilibrium within himself to not panic about his fingers moving by another's control.

(They really do have to save her or die. He can't imagine his father's reaction to this moment.)

Breathing is still under Alucard's sway though, and he focuses on controlling only that. An automatic function, nothing of intent mixed up with it.

Then Trevor speaks again, and Alucard holds up a hand in the universal wait a second gesture.]

I cannot have you both speaking in my head and out loud. Let me go else where, we can test basic spell casting.

Fourteen...

[She means to be quiet and listen while he tells his story, really, but she can't help but keep up a word or two of commentary as his recollection starts to paint a picture in her mind. The great ugly things, planes — she's never been on one, either, but she can imagine how unsettling they must be, climbing into one and being launched so high off the ground with nothing beneath you. That's not the way that travel is supposed to work, not like trains and riverboats and cars where there's the security of the earth underneath.

But there's love there, too, and she pays attention to that as well. That Trevor loves the sky, because it feels like it was made for him, what he was meant to do. At least, it did back then.

If she were to retell this story, she muses silently, she would make very sure to put emphasis on that.]

What does it feel like? To...take off. Isn't it frightening, to go up and know there is nothing beneath you?

After...things like this, it takes the mind time to act as it usually does. It has built such defenses for a specific situation, and when those defenses are no longer needed...

[You get this. He nuzzles the top of her head, kisses it to try and make it clear that yes, yes this is a part of recovery.]

On this, you can trust me.

Oh.

[She doesn't seem altogether sold on the idea, but settles against him nevertheless, more willing to trust Alucard at the moment than she is to put her faith in just about anything else.]

I just...you said that, and I got so scared, without knowing why.

[Alucard makes a quiet note of this moment. The fear, and what it needs to subside if only for a few moments. When she is resting again, he will discuss it with Trevor. One of the many open wounds to heal, and no easy way to go about the work.

For Sypha though there is only holding onto her, making it clear that even if he has to stand up for a moment, it will be okay. He will still be here.]

The fear will dissipate in time.

You think it will be. They prepare you for it to be. They give you rules to follow, so that you don’t have to think enough to be afraid, but just do what you’re told. And you’re good at that, so they like you. And you’re cleverer than they expected a boy with no schooling that’d give you a slip of paper at the end of it to be, and you turn out to be not-too-shitty with machines, and so they like you even more, and they put you into the sky by the end of the month.

[ He’s just letting words fall out of him, not really filtering them too much. It’s- a new experience, and it’s so tempting to hesitate and consider his words better. Find something better to say. But he made a promise, and he cannot lie, and maybe too many words is better than too few. ]

When you run, there’s a moment in each step when neither of your feet are on the ground, and if you tilt in just the slightest you’ll come down wrong. It’s- a little like that, but more. Further to fall. More time for shit to go wrong. All of your insides want to stay on the ground, and it feels a little like your brains are dribbling down into your boots, and your head goes too light to be afraid of anything at all. And it’s cold. They wrap you up in so many layers, even though it’s only just september, and you only understand why when you’re there and you see your breath come out in puffs. And the air is wrong, you have to breathe in so much more of it to make your lungs pay attention and stop fucking whining. But it’s a whole world of your very own, and that’s worth just about all of it.

Go to the room we’re using for my tracking spells, then.

[ And he hands Alucard the focus (that is to say, the thin layer of Alucard’s own skin, in a jar. The irony here, that the book he found this spell in was bound in the skin of a human, is not lost on him. A jar of ash follows it. ]

Fuck basic spellcasting, I can find her. And that’ll be as good a test as any.

...I never thought about it being cold.

[Almost instinctively, she leans more firmly into him, as if subconsciously offering the same warmth of her own body heat that he and Alucard always complain about. It's less than needed in the New Orleans heat than it would be high above the ground in a plane, perhaps. But still, she offers it, and hangs on his every word.

It doesn't escape her notice, the way he's chosen to tell the story to her. You do this. You're fourteen years old. It's not the usual way that people tell stories, naturally, and it stands out just enough that she can't help but remark on it.]

You tell stories like a Speaker.

[No, wait.]

No — like you're used to telling them to one.

I hope it will.

[Slowly again, she makes her fingers loosen, until she's no longer gripping his arm, but just resting her hand against it. For the moment, that's about as close to an invitation to move away as she seems to be able to get.]

And until then...you'll forgive me?

It’s freezing up there, even if it’s warm on the ground. Frost forms everywhere. They make you wear three pairs of socks, until your boots barely fit anymore.

[ It’s too warm, but he pulls her tight against him. Tighter, when she finishes that thought. He can’t lie. Because of the order, yes, but also because he owes her so, so much for this. But at the same time- this is a difficult topic. The wonder at flight is gone from his voice. ]

Hearing them from one. [ He corrects, then shakes his head. ] No- a little of both.

I'm glad that they did. Your feet would look funny without toes.

[Hmmm. That sure was a shift in the tenor of the conversation, all right.]

Not the ones around here. One of the European Speakers?

Doves, we called them, because they had to bleach their robes. The blue of them was too similar to the colours of the french. They thought that people wouldn’t shoot them down if it was clear that they were here to help, that they weren’t soldiers. Mud doves.

[ But that’s not an answer, is it? It’s just information, being given to stall for time. ]

Yeah. One of the Europeans.

People always call us birds. Because we sing, and we travel in groups, and never stay long in one place. Well, except me.

[She closes her eyes, trying to imagine it. The faces of her family, wrapped up in snow-white robes instead of the blue that had taken Alucard a whole day to painstakingly match when he'd replaced hers, early on. How dirty they must've gotten, snow-white and showing every stain. The proof of their devotion to their cause, draped over their bodies.]

Why does it make you sad?

I’m not sa-

[ The last word catches in his throat as if it were covered in hooks. No lying. Shit. ]

You’re not the first speaker I’ve asked this of.

You asked another Speaker to carry a gun for you.

[There's something to that, and it'll hit her in a minute, but for the moment she's stuck on the notion on its face, and not the deeper implications.

Not yet, at least. But they're there.]

I cannot imagine that went well. That's why you thought you knew how I would react, when you asked me. You'd been through the same conversation before, with someone else.

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20s AU Post

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