[It takes Alucard four long days to show his face after they capture the Bishop from his meeting at the crossorads. He is in the deepest parts of the castle for those days, letting every emotion run wild. Get out of his system. Let him take it all in, so that when he reemerges, it can be with the face he needs to fulfil the office the city requires him to take on.
Four days also means that all the spellwork for determining who has done such necromantic horrors to can be put into place. Alucard's informed of the complexity, of how some of it was hidden in layers and layers to cloak the one responsible, but in the end, it all traces back to Damien. There's a sick sense to it, after all. He had forced Trevor into Alucard's charge months back to prove that Alucard was a poor fit for Dracula's charge of the city. This was a new way to prove the point, praying on a raw spot and disguising it all as an incompetent princeling who can'r protect his own city from a few overeager hunters. It had nearly worked.
It was beautiful reverse spellwork. Nearly enough to offset Alucard's raw anger at the situation, but then there was new anger: the evidence needed to be replicated by others, because it had no weight coming from Trevor or Sypha. Not because they were human, but because they were too close to Alucard. An independent party had to do it instead, and so that was done. A few members of the local coven. Three vampires with no love of Alucard at all. A panel of elder vampires to know that none of this was biased. All witnesses gathered to watch Alucard make a simple declaration: Damien would be dead for attacking his own people. That was what justice demanded.
The night of the execution saw Alucard leave alone, dressed as he had been the first time. Black and gold, sword at his side, grim expression. But what was unleashed there was different. There was no denying a public death for this, nor was there denying the fact the Bishop would die first, Damien watching. For that horrible shell of a man, Alucard reserved nothing. Dorian's death was a thing of anger at a single situation. The bishop? That was anger for everything. His mother's death, his father's attack and abandonment, everything, everything, everything (everything that wasn't Trevor or Sypha.) He was torn limb from limb. The head flung into the assembled crowd. He was drenched in terrible dark red-black blood before he even turned on Damien, and then the same treatment was given to the offending vampire.
Afterward, when all assembled began to go towards the doors, a single figure walked in instead. Apologized for being late, had she missed the execution? Alucard stared down at her, soaked in blood, and the room named the vampire for him in hushed whispers. Carmilla.
Fuck.
Everyone filed out. She stayed. They spoke as politely as they could, because Alucard might rule the city, but Carmilla was old. Her age was currency that no one, not even the Son of Dracula, could ignore. Politeness meant she told him who she was staying with. (THe kin of an older friend.) Politeness meant inviting her to the townhouse in two days, because a distinguished guest in the city couldn't not be granted a private audience. Politeness meant staying far too late, and then having to smile at her as she left the cursed execution house.
Alucard returns home late. He storms in, and uses magic to project his voice.]
no subject
Four days also means that all the spellwork for determining who has done such necromantic horrors to can be put into place. Alucard's informed of the complexity, of how some of it was hidden in layers and layers to cloak the one responsible, but in the end, it all traces back to Damien. There's a sick sense to it, after all. He had forced Trevor into Alucard's charge months back to prove that Alucard was a poor fit for Dracula's charge of the city. This was a new way to prove the point, praying on a raw spot and disguising it all as an incompetent princeling who can'r protect his own city from a few overeager hunters. It had nearly worked.
It was beautiful reverse spellwork. Nearly enough to offset Alucard's raw anger at the situation, but then there was new anger: the evidence needed to be replicated by others, because it had no weight coming from Trevor or Sypha. Not because they were human, but because they were too close to Alucard. An independent party had to do it instead, and so that was done. A few members of the local coven. Three vampires with no love of Alucard at all. A panel of elder vampires to know that none of this was biased. All witnesses gathered to watch Alucard make a simple declaration: Damien would be dead for attacking his own people. That was what justice demanded.
The night of the execution saw Alucard leave alone, dressed as he had been the first time. Black and gold, sword at his side, grim expression. But what was unleashed there was different. There was no denying a public death for this, nor was there denying the fact the Bishop would die first, Damien watching. For that horrible shell of a man, Alucard reserved nothing. Dorian's death was a thing of anger at a single situation. The bishop? That was anger for everything. His mother's death, his father's attack and abandonment, everything, everything, everything (everything that wasn't Trevor or Sypha.) He was torn limb from limb. The head flung into the assembled crowd. He was drenched in terrible dark red-black blood before he even turned on Damien, and then the same treatment was given to the offending vampire.
Afterward, when all assembled began to go towards the doors, a single figure walked in instead. Apologized for being late, had she missed the execution? Alucard stared down at her, soaked in blood, and the room named the vampire for him in hushed whispers. Carmilla.
Fuck.
Everyone filed out. She stayed. They spoke as politely as they could, because Alucard might rule the city, but Carmilla was old. Her age was currency that no one, not even the Son of Dracula, could ignore. Politeness meant she told him who she was staying with. (THe kin of an older friend.) Politeness meant inviting her to the townhouse in two days, because a distinguished guest in the city couldn't not be granted a private audience. Politeness meant staying far too late, and then having to smile at her as she left the cursed execution house.
Alucard returns home late. He storms in, and uses magic to project his voice.]
My office. It's an emergency.
[His tone is furious and barely restrained.]