cryptsleeper | 20s AU Post

20s AU Post

Current Carmilla plot outline
--Post-fire, Carmilla and Mr. Peanut team up mostly to use each other. Carmilla's spent the past several months (since November, it is now February 1925) networking, and it's clear to her that Alucard's not suited for the position and that the other two are the obvious weakness. Mr Peanut needs something back, so this is perfect on her end. Mr Peanut can only imagine the joys of vampire blood in his work, and he'd like an army of vampires for his own ends.
--Shit stirring from Mr Peanut (all of March?)
--Mr Peanut also begins to sell mis Miracle Serum, which has vampire blood in it.
--Gang is very much trying to murder Mr Peanut during this.
--Start of April, vampire gets a call from one of the blood bank contacts that 3 patients have come in and are displaying some bizarre signs. Investigation yields the fact that they're in process of turning, and they've all taken the same serum.
--Additional investigation reveals O FUCK IT MR PEANUT
--Meanwhile Carmilla's been made aware of a familiar she didn't sire, so she knows something's up. Big fight with Mr. Peanut and thus Mr. Peanut is left depowered
--Gang commits a murder
--Carmilla's well sured up on her contacts now, and it's time for open rebellion (mid-April)
--In a more subtle attempt to let Alucard just step aside, she cuts the breaks on demon car and shows up to gloat/suggest he not pull a dad and go to deal with his grief quietly while she runs the city. The how he wants to do it is up to him (black widow joke goes here.) Treffy and Sypha walk in.
--1 week of straight up rebellion; feedings, no help from allies, need to do damage control instead of fight carmilla, every dracula rule is
--MEANWHILE IN GRAVITY FALLS, triangle shows Vlad what's up to try and psyche him out, somehow this finalyl snaps Vlad out of his depression and he heads home
--Just in time for Alucard and Carmilla to be tearing each other to bits in one of the bayous, it's not going well
--Vlad coming in means the king of vampires is accosted by a belmont with a pair of blessed knitting needles and a speaker with a fucking gun and he's just like what the shit happened to the world while i was gone
--Wards around the fight means that only demon car can break the wards, everyone has to pile in.
--Carmilla gets her ass kicked AND SENT TO THE JUSTICE DIMENSION

THEN THERE WERE FAERIES.
--Prior to all of this the vampire and Sypha have done a shit ton of research on how to get their Belmont back
--Sypha has also been practicing debating with dad, which leaves everyone Very Tired.
--When Trevor is actually snatched up (1 year after marriage, it takes fae effort. Taking Arn's shape fails, so it's a lot more kidnapping by force), Sypha and Alucard go into Faerie
--But they're playing this as politics, not as heroes rescuing their damsel, so that means the faeries are just "wait what now excuse u?"
--There are 3 gates and 3 trials (the particulars we're still bullshitting.) Each is asked to sacrifice 3 things. (Alucard: voice, his titles as bestowed upon by his father and his people, i forget the third; Sypha: her human form (she's a birb), fuck what were the other two)
--They enter the court at the end of the third trial. After LITERALLY ALL THE TITLES Sypha declares she Speaks for Trevor Belmont
--Claim debate over Trevor, turns out that the rules are in Sypha's favor.
--But that means debating to leave Fae without giving up what they've chosen.
--Sypha lawyers it all out, Alucard is a safety deposit and hangs out with Fae!Trevor
--In the end, safe passage out of Faerie consists of Sypha giving up her memory of the necromancer (billed as a great mage she studied under), the vampire gives up his immortality, and Trevor is replaced with Carmilla (dad was aware of this option and OK with it), but Trevor has his ability to swear taken. He now soundslike a rubber ducky when he tries
--Everyone gets home okay, except for the AU of this AU where the gang fails, but Trevor's on their doorstep like a bat out of Hell because time doesn't work right and he's been in Hell for a WHILE.

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It will keep. You never cook anything that can't be saved for a day or two after.

[Because he always cooks too much. Because it's not just a way of busying his hands; it's a means of caring for the people he loves. It's something he can do, something he can put his heart into, and see the results of it in the relieved and delighted expressions of his guests at his table.]

It's just us for a bit. Trevor is taking a bath.

[Probably a shower, more like, but bath sounds better. Softer, somehow. Like what they all need is just a good soak straight through to the soul.]

Just us.

I know. And we all really do need to eat.

[Alucard squeezes her hands once before he lets go. It's only so that he can turn around. So he can pull Sypha into his arms, his weight rested upon the counter and feet floating off the ground so that there is no strain to the one injury that remains.]

He probably needs the time alone.

[He is a Belmont. Who has gone up against Dracula three times now and has survived. That must be a family record, even if it's likely to end badly.

It has not escaped Alucard that Sypha's voice is much too small. That she's still so warm, but not as warm as she usually is. A dimmed hearth, and he shudders the moment the thought enters his head.]

So it is. [Just as it began.

She's here in his arms. That's as good a reason as any for Alucard to bury his face into the top of Sypha's head.]

Or he's being noble.

[She hasn't forgotten what he'd said, either, when that awful compulsion had descended on them both. How he'd promised he'd take her away. Take her, and leave, and — so no, perhaps it's not just Trevor wanting to be on his own, but Trevor causing the two of them to be together. Trevor, making things turn out the way he thinks they ought to be.

This time he's right, perhaps. They needed this, the both of them. This gift, this memory of how things had been, back in the very beginning.]

You could kiss me, I think. If you wanted to.

[There's no ban on that, is there? Kissing is the antithesis of plotting. And there's no law yet passed that says she can't.]

If he's not down here by the time lunch is done, I'll go get him.

[Alucard doesn't know how much of those awful fucking words he heard were compulsion and his father's bullshit magic versus genuine. He doesn't care to know, he's been trying not to think about it. They were details. Fleeting, tiny details that didn't matter when the only important thing was surviving the month.

He's lingering where he is, memorizing every hair, how it tickles against his nose, every little thing. Mine. Ours. Those details matter even more now.]

Needed to do this first.

[It's a slow thing, moving his head up. Easy to hide emotions when there's an entire head of beautiful, perfect hair in the way. But kissing is good for that too. Much more important too, and so when Alucard leans in to follow the most important directive given for the day, he's aware that the muted fear on his face is going to be obvious, if only for a split second.

His kiss starts with all the stupid nerves that it did back then. Unsure of what's right anymore, but it fades after just a few moments. Morphs into that much calmer, confident knowledge of love and that this is how it ought to be.]

[He's afraid. They're all afraid, they're all so afraid and it isn't fair, somehow, for it to be like this. It was only supposed to be like this when Dracula was gone, and the weight of the city's future had been left to be borne on Alucard's shoulders. Dracula's return was supposed to be the end of it, the liberation from it. It wasn't supposed to be like this, even more terror and sadness than before.

And yet there's a gentleness to this, too, that they find in each other, that they both must be craving. He buries his face in her hair and for a second she finds herself remembering how he'd looked when she'd turned up at his door after leaping from the train, with his stitches pulled and his hair a mess, and how he'd looked at her like the only thing in the world that could calm the raging storm he'd found himself in.]

Adrian.

[She can feel his lip tremble when he kisses her, at first — that slight little quiver of anxiousness. But then things slow, and smooth out, and mellow, and she leans up and into him with quiet acceptance, wanting more of him just as much as he does her.]

[Fear will transmute into something in the next few weeks. What it will become, none can say. Another demon car, perhaps, or some other thing born of magic because they have all gone stir crazy from home becoming a jail. It won't help anything, but it will distract.

His mind isn't on the train, of what can come next when they manage this month, or anything else but Sypha's weight and warmth against him. How she leans against him, lets him bear her weight even if neither of them should be doing it, how want isn't want at all but need so stupidly and desperately, just as much as before if not more.

He pulls away only when the need for air outweighs the comforts of having her lips and tongue against his own.]

Sypha.

[He breathes her name out softly, like it's a prayer unto itself. Then there is a noise that might be a laugh in happier times, equally muted.]

Just Adrian now. And all that really entails.

For now.

[She misses the feeling of his lips almost as soon as he draws away from her; even as he does, she keeps her chin tilted up and her eyes closed for just a few seconds too long, lingering regretfully as if trying to hold on to the fragile moment between them just a touch longer before it inevitably dissipates.]

For however long we can keep it.

[Lowering her head, she steps forward into him without hesitation, bringing her forehead to rest against his chest.]

We'll manage.

[It's a month. They're one day in. They'll do it because it's all they can do. This isn't going to be easier or harder than anything else. It is different in all the details, and those are important.

The arms around Sypha squeeze her gently. There's no failure of the vampire's usual possessiveness to appear, and the gesture is barely tempered with the fear that's taken up residence in him.]

We always do.

We're not allowed to plot.

[Which probably means not talking about the future to come much at all, or at least not about affecting it. It's hard to say what might or might not be construed as plotting, and it's not an answer they can afford to get wrong.

She lets out a breath, a soft chuff against his collarbone, and the noise that escapes her throat is soft and thin.]

But I will try to do everything I can, to stay with you. I want to stay with you, my love.

Should've gotten exact words on that. [He sighs, nuzzling what he can reach of her.] Sorry.

[It's the only word left in his vocabulary. It'll be the only thing he has period if this all goes to Hell and beyond, and at that point he'll choke it out at the foot of their far too large and far too lonely bed until he has to be dragged away. (He knows he will have to be.)

That thin noise is not a Sypha noise. Not something Alucard wants to hear ever again.]

I want you here. Both of you. I...[It has always been need with him, hasn't it? Need because of the grief or support or every comfort that they share.] I would be so much worse without you.

Shh, shhh. Enough of that, now. You've said it enough, now. No more.

[It's not a night she'd want to relive again, the way each and every I'm sorry had spilled from his mouth, cascading from his lips like ice melt feeding rivers in the spring. It's also not a night she'll ever forget, because Speakers don't. They never do.]

He might let you keep Trevor. If the worst comes to worst. He might not take the both of us.

Don't...[Don't start because it will sound like plotting. Don't start because the horrible thought is now in his head, and that's a new thing to panic about that he hadn't thought of before! Thanks!!

He can fall quiet though. It isn't easier, but it helps him remember the next part of this routine of theirs.]

I can't lift you onto the counter easily right now.

I can do it.

[She bumps her head lightly against him, a little affectionate headbutt before she draws back and looks at him, eyes soft.]

Show me where you want me? We can pretend you lifted me just this once, even if I do it myself.

[To determine where she can go, Alucard has to look away. It...it takes too much effort for him to do that, and even when Alucard does turn his head, he keeps Sypha in his periphery. He's lost her once.

Never-a-fucking-gain.

There's her usual spot. He pats it gently, a space a few inches from the cutting board and near the sink, with no cabinets overhead to make it uncomfortable to sit.]

I'm surprised the counter isn't molded to fit you already.

I am not that heavy.

[But she shuffles along with him, orbiting him like a moon around a planet, always staying within his gravity — because she's doing the same thing, keeping him in sight, letting him see her in return.

When she makes it to the counter, it's easy to set her hands on it and lift herself up with a jump and a push, until she's comfortably on the lip of the counter with her legs dangling.]

Don't be mean to me.

Just there often enough.

[He remembers this part so easily. Sypha is settled on the counter, so he wraps his arms around her waist. Rests his chin on her, then looks up, up at her beautiful and perfect face. It's the easiest, most comfortable way to express all the vulnerability he has, and today that is overflowing.

There's a soft sigh, and Alucard settles like he always does.]

What is the traditional number for quests or trials, in those types of stories?

...Three. Always three. A beginning, a middle, and an end. Or, I suppose — simple, medium, and difficult.

[She pauses, regarding him softly as she dips her chin to nuzzle against his cheek.]

Or body, mind, and soul. Why do you ask?

[She's still running colder than she should be. All he wants to do is scoop her off the counter, curl up around Sypha, and stay there until the fire inside of her is burning brightly again.

There a not-chuckle from the vampire, soft and regretful.]

Oh, we're well over the three limit then, aren't we?

That depends on how we look at it, perhaps.

[Her nuzzling is slowly evolving into little butterfly kisses, which in turn are melting into more solid ones that linger. Kissing him feels natural, and familiar, and safe. She needs all of those things right now, and doesn't want to have to merely pick from among them.]

This might only be the middle, depending.

Explain? I would have thought that...the matter I charged into was the last of three.

[Damien. The Necromancer. Carmilla. That's three.

Alucard leans into every kiss, the thought of cooking now forgotten and abandoned. He's hardly been touch starved since waking, but he is clingy now, far clingier than ever before. It's desperate, it's trying to claw back something normal, it's not how he should be reacting but here he is, falling into the oldest and surest of comforts: Sypha.]

You were unconscious for our first...meeting...with your father.

[She won't call it a confrontation. No admitting to hostilities between them and Dracula. One of the rules is to abide by his laws, and Dracula has killed people for less insult than disrespect.]

The other day was the second. At the end of this will be one more, the third. That might be another three, itself.

[Alucard's never going to be over how stupidly proud of you took a shot at Dracula and walked away he is. That's his own rules.]

So what you're really suggesting is multiples of 3, with nine being the point of perfection?

I am suggesting...that sometimes a life is more than just one story. Sometimes it is hundreds of them, thousands, sewn together like a patchwork quilt. We may both be right. One story ended, while another is still ongoing.

[She lifts her head up a little, looking at him solemnly before leaning in to kiss him properly now.]

You just want this to be over, is that it? For the trials to be done, and this to be the after.

You're...far more correct than I am. Could ever hope to be.

[After all stories and storytelling is Sypha's birthright, just as much as this castle was Alucard's when his father abandoned it. As so much was, and now isn't, and it's a mess unto itself.

He's always come undone when Sypha's kissing him in moments like these. All vulnerabilities are rendered bare, practically on an autopsy table to be examined and understood.]

Yes. Selfishly and stupidly.

[This is about endurance, and he cannot trust himself to manage.]

It's nothing of the sort. Not either one.

[Well. Maybe it's selfish, yes, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. With all the sacrifices Adrian has made for his inheritance, for the city, for the future, he's more than earned the right to be selfish.]

Shall I tell you a story, my love, to lift your spirits? You sound as though you would like to hear one.

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