[This arrangement is like a car. A car that's being driven long after the needle has moved beyond the "E" on the fuel gauge, a car that is held together with a whole lot of hope and not much else, a car that has been spluttering and whining for the past two weeks and really just ought to be put out of it's misery. But they can't, because now in addition to sacrificing Alucard to the city, Trevor has done the same. No one's rested.
And the cracks are showing to all and sundry. Alucard's known it on his end since he first awoke after the Carmilla fight, but oh, Trevor's hid it just enough from an exhausted vampire.
When the pliers drop, it's a problem. One quickly fixed, as the fangs in question are removed (only one for the night), but it's alarming. Alarming and Alucard cannot do anything but continue to play along with this terrible, awful, horseshit charade that they've all invented for themselves in the guise of consolidating this city and eliminating Carmilla's allies.
Then Trevor is gone. Alucard is just about to his not-a-throne when it happens, and all that happens on the outside is that he grips his cane a little more tightly. (The cane is for affectation, so far as anyone on the outside can see. It has a silver tip. It's already been used several times.) When he eases himself down into the throne, it's agony, and none of it shows.
He wants to screech. He wants to tear his own eyes out from the agony of it. But in this house, he can only be perfection itself.
Alucard knows that the only thing he can do is bring the night's proceedings to an end. Most business has been seen to, after all. Just one or two more matters.]
We are aware that there are a number of you who were forced to remain neutral during Our conflict with the usurper. [Carmilla doesn't have a name, not any more.] We are likewise aware that this was due to how she operated, as you would have been victims of blackmail or worse, and it is the prerogative of our kind to look after ourselves first and foremost. We will be speaking to each of you in turn, and that matter shall be private. Tonight, We will conclude our business here. For those of whom my words apply to, remain in this city. We will be speaking to you within the week.
no subject
And the cracks are showing to all and sundry. Alucard's known it on his end since he first awoke after the Carmilla fight, but oh, Trevor's hid it just enough from an exhausted vampire.
When the pliers drop, it's a problem. One quickly fixed, as the fangs in question are removed (only one for the night), but it's alarming. Alarming and Alucard cannot do anything but continue to play along with this terrible, awful, horseshit charade that they've all invented for themselves in the guise of consolidating this city and eliminating Carmilla's allies.
Then Trevor is gone. Alucard is just about to his not-a-throne when it happens, and all that happens on the outside is that he grips his cane a little more tightly. (The cane is for affectation, so far as anyone on the outside can see. It has a silver tip. It's already been used several times.) When he eases himself down into the throne, it's agony, and none of it shows.
He wants to screech. He wants to tear his own eyes out from the agony of it. But in this house, he can only be perfection itself.
Alucard knows that the only thing he can do is bring the night's proceedings to an end. Most business has been seen to, after all. Just one or two more matters.]
We are aware that there are a number of you who were forced to remain neutral during Our conflict with the usurper. [Carmilla doesn't have a name, not any more.] We are likewise aware that this was due to how she operated, as you would have been victims of blackmail or worse, and it is the prerogative of our kind to look after ourselves first and foremost. We will be speaking to each of you in turn, and that matter shall be private. Tonight, We will conclude our business here. For those of whom my words apply to, remain in this city. We will be speaking to you within the week.