[Time in the fae realm was a thing of legend. Step through a portal, then out, and it'll be a hundred years. The three of them, they've been here for what seems like a week and yet there has only been one meal served (dinner, made to be elaborate, because last meals and Alucard used a lot of self control to not react to it.) So it tracks that it must still only be the 31st, and Sypha has been negotiating for such a long time.
With Sypha there (she is queen of words, of particulars, of knowing how to argue and dip into legend to back everything up), Alucard could do nothing else but stay with Trevor. Curl up around him, protective and possessive and ready to snarl and destroy anything that comes near. Face buried in Trevor's back pressing kisses there whenever he can. They've been through this once before, back before his father was in the city, back when Carmilla was still a threat, back when the ordeal hoisted upon them chose Sypha as a victim. (It should be over after all of this. They've each had their trials. Sypha and that fucking necromancer. Alucard and the city. Now Trevor and the fae.) The snarling possessiveness has been tempered with a two year reprieve from acting as regent, but the instinct remains.
Other instincts remain too. With time fluxuating around them, there is the other hunger, the one usually kept at bay by the fridge's blood compartment. Drinking from fae is what got the Belmonts into this mess in the first place. Alucard also can't imagine a worse violating of hospitality.
He dozes every so often. He's doing it now, using the Belmont as a mattress, covering him as best as he can. Trevor's still too wide for it to be done by Alucard alone, but he's trying his best. He's also realizing there's a metallic smell in the air, and in the dozy, dreamlike state he's in, instinct has more sway. Alucard perks, blinking away the sleepiness.]
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With Sypha there (she is queen of words, of particulars, of knowing how to argue and dip into legend to back everything up), Alucard could do nothing else but stay with Trevor. Curl up around him, protective and possessive and ready to snarl and destroy anything that comes near. Face buried in Trevor's back pressing kisses there whenever he can. They've been through this once before, back before his father was in the city, back when Carmilla was still a threat, back when the ordeal hoisted upon them chose Sypha as a victim. (It should be over after all of this. They've each had their trials. Sypha and that fucking necromancer. Alucard and the city. Now Trevor and the fae.) The snarling possessiveness has been tempered with a two year reprieve from acting as regent, but the instinct remains.
Other instincts remain too. With time fluxuating around them, there is the other hunger, the one usually kept at bay by the fridge's blood compartment. Drinking from fae is what got the Belmonts into this mess in the first place. Alucard also can't imagine a worse violating of hospitality.
He dozes every so often. He's doing it now, using the Belmont as a mattress, covering him as best as he can. Trevor's still too wide for it to be done by Alucard alone, but he's trying his best. He's also realizing there's a metallic smell in the air, and in the dozy, dreamlike state he's in, instinct has more sway. Alucard perks, blinking away the sleepiness.]