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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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.

[It was absolutely selfish, denying them both a chance to step away from his father unscathed. Fear drove every refusal, every word in that moment, and so they are here. Trying to define what plotting is, with the assumption it will be used broadly and on purpose.]

Your voice is the important part but...yes. Please.

Do you know the one about the nightingale?

[She lifts a hand, bringing it to rest against his cheek as she coaxes him to keep his eyes on her.]

I should warn you, there is a prince in it. If you would rather avoid such things right now.

I think so. Andersen, correct?

[He's happy to be lead. All he's wanted for ages is for someone else to be in charge, but...but now Alucard knows he should have been more specific. Exact. Fucking. Words.]

Mm, not that one. Similar roles, but a variant story.

[Her hand shifts, stroking through his hair, finding a steady rhythm to combing through it with her fingers spread.]

Once upon a time there lived a king, the most powerful man in all the world. He lived in a castle in the forest, as kings do, and everything he ever wanted, he got, because that is simply how it is, for kings.

[She hums softly, and the longer she goes on the sweeter her voice turns, blossoming into a proper lilt born of a lifetime of oral storytelling.]

And the king had a son, as kings do, a little prince that he loved more than anything in the world. And this little prince was young and merry, and loved to leave the castle and go out to play in the woods all day and all night, and once when he went out he went so very far into the woods, and it was there that he heard a nightingale singing.

Thank goodness. I...can't say I enjoy his interpretation.

[He doesn't know he has ached so badly for those steady hands until they are there. Then Alucard wonders why they have simply not always been there, and resolves to ensure that the rest of today has them huddled up together.]

A very fascinating forest.

[There's that gentle look of contentment on the vampire's face, all attention on Sypha and calm eyes. It's always there when she tells stories.]

Shhh.

[She's not actually shushing him or seeking to halt his commentary; it's more of a soothing, pacifying noise, offered in response to the contentment she can see in Alucard's expression. Acknowledgement. Approval.]

Day after day, the prince went far into the forest to hear the nightingale singing, but one day he took ill, and grew very sick. He was so sick that he could not even get out of bed, and his illness lasted for days and days.

[She runs the pad of her thumb over Alucard's lower lip.]

As the days went on, the little prince grew sadder and sadder, confined as he was to his bed. And one day, the king asked him if there were anything, anything in the world, that could make him happy. And the prince said, "I wish I could go into the forest again, and hear the nightingale singing."

[Being quiet without his head filling with every horrible thought is good. A novelty to indulge in, and Alucard is certain that that too must show on his face. He's all soft edges like this, wrapped up with his arms around her and being drawn so close.

It's an on the nose story, but that means the ending will have a promise of better times than these.

He refrains from a comment about depression naps when illness is mentioned (and what a shame they all can't do that for a month), but there's a near melting sensation when Sypha's thumb brushes against his lip. Alucard doesn't chase after it. It'll distract from the story.]

Mmm. [And more to himself than to Sypha, he murmurs happiness because that's what this is all about.] And kings don't go on quests like that in most tales.

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