[They have spent the last year preparing for this moment, all three (three-and-a-half, if one counts the occasional assistance rendered by Dracula) of them. Six months of hard research, of noses in books, in compiling data, in traveling to far away universities to look at manuscripts, then six months of planning. Sypha debating his father endlessly. In having to sit and prepare lists of what could be given up readily. (There was also the side-fight of Alucard and his parents about Alucard even going to the realm of the fae at all, which roiled for an entire week.) How to approach. How to turn all expectations of the faerie court on their heads by having Sypha claim them both to be no questing beloved, but members of Dracula’s court by marriage oath to his sole son then too many titles, who demand audience with their Royal Highnesses, as is our right.
The forest the two have been stranded in is proof enough that while they were expected, it was not as politicians. Alucard remembers this forest from a previous dream, too thick and dense with pine trees that reach ever-upwards into the heavens. The clothes on his back, deep and rich blood reds in the style of some medieval prince rather than the young man loafing around his father’s house doing lab shifts at the local hospital that he is now. What he does not remember is the fog, just as thick as the forest and at shoulder level, challenging even his own superior vision.
This is the first challenge. One of three, as is tradition, as Sypha demanded when the court responded that it would grant an audience only after their worth was proven. After all, we have made great pains to stay distant from vampires.
Sypha’s hand is in his. He squeezes it once.]
We move forward at your command.
[Sypha is in charge. That was the one thing everyone agreed upon. This is a world of exact words, and Alucard is not the person to lead.]
no subject
The forest the two have been stranded in is proof enough that while they were expected, it was not as politicians. Alucard remembers this forest from a previous dream, too thick and dense with pine trees that reach ever-upwards into the heavens. The clothes on his back, deep and rich blood reds in the style of some medieval prince rather than the young man loafing around his father’s house doing lab shifts at the local hospital that he is now. What he does not remember is the fog, just as thick as the forest and at shoulder level, challenging even his own superior vision.
This is the first challenge. One of three, as is tradition, as Sypha demanded when the court responded that it would grant an audience only after their worth was proven. After all, we have made great pains to stay distant from vampires.
Sypha’s hand is in his. He squeezes it once.]
We move forward at your command.
[Sypha is in charge. That was the one thing everyone agreed upon. This is a world of exact words, and Alucard is not the person to lead.]