[ Halloween was always a private sort of time for Trevor (most times have always been private sorts of times for Trevor, but that is beside the point). The opposite is apparently true for this whole fucking city, human and vampire alike.
He doesn't join in the festivities. He doesn't know how this will happen, if it happens tonight. He's read the stories, of course. Maybe a beautiful lady will lead him away from the crowds and he'll be too drunk to see the black hooves under her skirts. Maybe it'll be a pillar of flame consumes him and burns out and leaves nothing. Maybe everything will just steadily grow quieter until he realizes that the world is still and everyone's faces are wrong. Whatever happens, it's not the best thing to throw at a city where the slightest thing could throw off the balance. He'd rather not innocent people witness fairies. He'd really rather vampires not witness them.
He remains at the castle, and he knits, and before Alucard and Sypha set out he slips a letter into each of their pockets. ]
Open should you find your number one less after midnight.
[ Sypha's envelope is thicker, stuffed with runes scribbled on scraps of paper and an infuriating lack of instructions for what to do with them. Enough to use to track her people for a year, if she only does so once a month. Alucard's only has the letter. ]
Adrian,
I was not instructed to write this. I am doing so, and that means that this is within my nature. I did not believe it was. I do not think that it was, back in winter. This is inconvenient and I am not certain that I like it, because I now have to account for the fact that fondness for the two of you is part of who I am. It is much easier to account for my own nature when my own nature is simply 'an unpleasant person', and not 'an unpleasant person to whom these two people mean the world'.
I don't like it, and I would ask you to stop changing my basic nature without my say-so. And you would not listen, because you rarely do when anyone demands unkindness of either of you. It is infuriating.
Perhaps, given more time, you would have shaped me (kicking and screaming, I would add) into the person you both deserve me to be. I am certain that you will shape this city (probably also kicking and screaming, unfortunately) into that it deserves to be. No doubt you will do it in the same way, with more kindness and understanding than it has ever earned.
I have never been afraid. I am still not afraid. Please do not think that I was afraid when I left. But I think I may regret leaving you so soon. I think I would have liked to remain long enough to see what you made of me.
You are both dear to me, and I have every faith that you will find in each other everything that you deserve. But I still wish that I could have given it to you both myself.
Thank you.
ps. Sypha gets the dog photographs.
[ But midnight passes, and he's safe for another year. Sypha returns home from the festivities first, mumbles something about Alucard driving out again to attend to one last thing and promptly flings herself into the cushions of the couch (it's all he can do to move his knitting needles out of her path) and disappears into slumber. It's easy enough to take the letter back from her and toss it into the fire. It won't be needed for another year. And maybe by then he'll hate them both again.
He stays up, knitting. Alucard should be home eventually, and he can take the letter back while he inevitably busies himself with carrying Sypha to bed. ]
no subject
He doesn't join in the festivities. He doesn't know how this will happen, if it happens tonight. He's read the stories, of course. Maybe a beautiful lady will lead him away from the crowds and he'll be too drunk to see the black hooves under her skirts. Maybe it'll be a pillar of flame consumes him and burns out and leaves nothing. Maybe everything will just steadily grow quieter until he realizes that the world is still and everyone's faces are wrong. Whatever happens, it's not the best thing to throw at a city where the slightest thing could throw off the balance. He'd rather not innocent people witness fairies. He'd really rather vampires not witness them.
He remains at the castle, and he knits, and before Alucard and Sypha set out he slips a letter into each of their pockets. ]
Open should you find your number one less after midnight.
[ Sypha's envelope is thicker, stuffed with runes scribbled on scraps of paper and an infuriating lack of instructions for what to do with them. Enough to use to track her people for a year, if she only does so once a month. Alucard's only has the letter. ]
Adrian,
I was not instructed to write this. I am doing so, and that means that this is within my nature. I did not believe it was. I do not think that it was, back in winter. This is inconvenient and I am not certain that I like it, because I now have to account for the fact that fondness for the two of you is part of who I am. It is much easier to account for my own nature when my own nature is simply 'an unpleasant person', and not 'an unpleasant person to whom these two people mean the world'.
I don't like it, and I would ask you to stop changing my basic nature without my say-so. And you would not listen, because you rarely do when anyone demands unkindness of either of you. It is infuriating.
Perhaps, given more time, you would have shaped me (kicking and screaming, I would add) into the person you both deserve me to be. I am certain that you will shape this city (probably also kicking and screaming, unfortunately) into that it deserves to be. No doubt you will do it in the same way, with more kindness and understanding than it has ever earned.
I have never been afraid. I am still not afraid. Please do not think that I was afraid when I left. But I think I may regret leaving you so soon. I think I would have liked to remain long enough to see what you made of me.
You are both dear to me, and I have every faith that you will find in each other everything that you deserve. But I still wish that I could have given it to you both myself.
Thank you.
ps. Sypha gets the dog photographs.
[ But midnight passes, and he's safe for another year. Sypha returns home from the festivities first, mumbles something about Alucard driving out again to attend to one last thing and promptly flings herself into the cushions of the couch (it's all he can do to move his knitting needles out of her path) and disappears into slumber. It's easy enough to take the letter back from her and toss it into the fire. It won't be needed for another year. And maybe by then he'll hate them both again.
He stays up, knitting. Alucard should be home eventually, and he can take the letter back while he inevitably busies himself with carrying Sypha to bed. ]