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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

...Well. Perhaps just a little.

[She keeps her fingers on his arm even as he shifts, careful not to break the contact so that he can still track where she is. As he sits back, she lets her hand run up his arm toward his shoulder, then over the top and down until the flat of her palm is resting against his chest.]

But I am here now. I'm going to keep you safe.

[She lets her voice go a little lower and smoother, like velvet.]

You are always, always there for me when I need you. Now I'm here with you, too.

[ Sypha's presence is calming. Soft and steady, like sunlight-warmed earth. He keeps timing his breath to the movement of her hand on his, trying to match her own. Tries to will his heart to stop racing. It's working. Slowly, slowly, it's working.

The panic leaves a vacuum, though. There's nothing there when it fades. No bravado. No training. No determination. Even the self-deprecation that he's clinging to only fills it halfway. There's just a raw, empty place where it was. His steadier breath becomes ragged. His body curls in on itself. He's not realised yet that there are tears beginning to trail down his cheeks. ]

I'm sorry. [ How many times has he said that these last few days? It feels like that's just what it sounds like when he exhales, by now. Does it even mean anything anymore? ]

It's only a little broken glass. No great harm done.

[She's aware, of course, that that's probably not what he meant — certainly not what he's apologizing for. But it seems kinder, for the moment, to avoid remarking on his sadness and distress. Better, perhaps, to keep from calling attention to it, lest it come back in force. Better, instead, to remain calm herself, in the hopes that he can follow her to find a calm of his own.]

Did your hand slip, when you were filling it?

[She doesn't take her hands off of him. She won't, not when that connection is his lifeline to knowing she's still there. One hand comes to settle on his arm, near his elbow, while the other leaves his chest and skims back up to pet at his hair.

She tries to make it idle, incidental, kind when her fingertips drift down to gently brush his tears away. She doesn't know if it works.]

[ He makes a few attempts at answering, and isn't successful until the third. ]

Dizzy. Needed- hands. To not fall.

[ His shoulders sink with the effort when the last of those words leaves him. And he doesn't speak for a while longer, just trying to concentrate on Sypha's hands. The're in his hair. And then they're not, and- oh. He hadn't realised that there were tears there. Was he crying? (Pathetic.) ]

Can't- can't English. French?

Oui.

[It doesn't take many words to work out a picture of what must have happened, really. A glass in his hands, a dizzy spell. He tried not to fall, the glass did; perhaps he fell anyway, to have ended up on the ground. And then in the aftermath, the weight of the realization — trapped. Glass on the floor, water on the floor, and no way out. Trapped.

The switch to French is more than just easy; it's a hollow sort of ironic. It hadn't been so long ago that she'd been the one resorting to it, wrapped up in bed with bandages on her arms, because her head hurt and words were so hard and French slides out of the throat so much easier than English does.]

Shh. Can you try to focus on me, matou? That's all I do, when you're close to me. I want to pet you and pet you as much as I can.

[ It's easier, French. The language he spoke at home, the one his family would use. Even after years, even after using it in the trenches, even after everything, it's still the language spoken in the Belmont household first and foremost. Romanian is the language of cycling into town for errands, of playing with friends. French is the language of coming home in the evening.

It helps. It helps a lot. There's a (weak, anemic) hint of a smile at the pet name. ]

'll try. You're- [ He follows Sypha's arm until he reaches her shoulder, and then tries to turn his head in her direction once he's found her. ] -you're here.

Yes. I'm here.

[Carefully, she takes his hand in both of hers, running her fingers over his palm in a surreptitious means of checking to see if he'd cut himself when he dropped the glass. It's only after that she guides his fingertips up to her cheek, letting him feel the curve of her cheekbone, the slope of her nose, and finally down to the soft cupid's bow of her lips, upturned at the edges.]

C'est moi. Can you feel my smile?

[ For once, for once in his fucking life, there are no cuts. No blood. He's unhurt, for once. Just stuck. Stranded and lost in a place that feels like a demon castle for the first time since he came here (less, now. A demon castle wouldn't have Sypha in it.) and so, so far from home. ]

I can. [ She's soft. She's soft and too-warm and beautiful even like this. Even now. The smile is small and fragile, while it lasts, and then his face twists with pain and his head hangs. ]

I hate this. I hate this so much.

You're afraid.

[She says it so he doesn't have to. Because he can't, because it would be too much, because shaping it into words makes it real and strips away the ambiguity that bottling it up inside would still afford him. She kisses each of his fingertips, carefully, following the same rhythm that her little squeezes of his hand did before.

This is a dance, almost. Everything in its time, everything measured and following the unspoken cadence. There's predictability in a dance. Music doesn't need the eyes; most of the time, it's even better without them.]

Will you tell me what you fear most?

I- yes. I'm-

[ He can't even say the word. He holds his hand still, letting her kiss. It's calming, helps him keep time. His hand doesn't fall, when he starts to speak again, but he ceases to hold it up himself until it's just a weight in her hands. ]

I'm- useless, like this. And the two of you won't throw me away. Even if I asked you to. Even if I begged. Even though it'd be the best thing to do.

[ His voice grows thick and rough with tears again, face scrunching up. ]

I'm going to be worse than useless. A burden.

Trevor.

[She guides his hand back to her cheek, holding it there with both of hers, leaning into it so that he can feel the weight of it against his palm.]

When you gave me your gun, when you begged me to take it, you said you knew what you were asking of me. What you were asking me to give away, by taking it up and learning to keep myself safe. But you begged me, because you knew it was what I needed, and I trusted you.

[She draws a breath, and it comes sharper than she meant it to, stuttered right at the tail end.]

So I understand. I understand what I'm asking of you, now. Because I spent my entire life being a Speaker, and you spent yours being...useful.

[She turns her face into his hand, kisses his palm.]

I'm asking you to trust me to know best. To try to believe me, that I need you and it has nothing to do with how useful you are. That Alucard needs you, and it has nothing to do with how useful you are. I know what I'm asking of you, Trevor, and I am begging you to believe me, anyway.

I-

[ There's nothing he can really say, in response to that. In asking him to accept what she says as truth, she's asking him to give up the world he knows. The understanding of it that he has, where everything can be easily defined by what it can and cannot do. The understanding that made Alucard a spoiled princeling for not taking his responsibilities in stride, because of course he was capable of them. The understanding that leaves him uneasy when he's still, because he could be doing so much more. The understanding that makes everything make sense, makes it all painful but makes it all make sense, that lets him answer any difficult question with 'because someone wasn't good enough' and be done with it. The understanding that he was raised with. The only thing he has left of his family other than a whip and the language they're speaking.

But he's asked her to give up everything, before, and all she asked in return was stories. And those, those she's already given willingly. ]

-I trust you. I'll try.

I know it's my fault.

[She holds his hand a little tighter, squeezing it just slightly between both of hers.]

You and Alucard, you...you did this because of me. Because I was taken by that monster. I know you didn't want me to find out what the two of you had been doing.

[She lets out a slow breath.]

I'm sorry, Trevor.

It's not!

[ His head snaps up at that, eyes trying so hard to focus on where Sypha must be. For a moment, the despair, the exhaustion, all of it is gone from his tone, replaced with a horror he didn't know that he had in him even now, one that quickly fades to his normal, certain-of-everything tone. He pulls his hand away, following her arms until he finds her shoulders, then pulls her against him. ]

It's not your fault. I'm the one who fucked up. That asshole is the one who took advantage of it. I could probably blame the vampire as well, if I wanted. But it's not you. Never you.

Oh —

[She'd anticipated a reaction, certainly, but not one as fierce as this; caught off-guard, there's no resistance as he pulls her toward him, and once she's against him she quickly settles, already instinctively familiar with how it feels to relax and go boneless when he holds her close.]

What...happened? What did he do to you?

It's- one of Dracula's spells. For making a person act as a familiar. You can see through their eyes, control their body. And make them form intent. Adrian and I were using it to fight together. I can't dispel his magic easily on my own, but I know the spells needed for it. And Adrian isn't- like this.

[ Adrian's good at wanting things, and Trevor isn't. He can't use magic like the two of them can, but can want things so, so powerfully. Trevor keeps Sypha close, as if there were some threat. When really, there's just glass. Glass and water and everyone blaming themselves for shitty luck and shitty people. ]

But I let Adrian get hit. And he's a sturdy fucker, but I'm just a human.

That's the one you used when you rescued me. The same thing.

[When she'd been helpless like he feels helpless now. When the world had turned to chaos around them and she'd been clinging, aching, slipping and all she could think was Trevor, help me, and he did.]

...Backlash. You felt the damage he took, and that's how...

Yeah. We're stronger, like that. But- you know. Chains, and weakest links.

[ He chuckles, and it comes out darker than he meant it to. But he leans down as he does, moving his face forward experimentally, like an animal sniffing at something, until his nose brushes against hair and he can push his face into it. ]

We fucked him up, though. And if this is temporary, I can find him again. And we can fuck him up some more. If it's not- I'll tell you how to do it.

[ It's the first 'if it's forever' thought that hasn't ended horribly. ]

You could use the same spell on me. Couldn't you? If I allowed it, and didn't fight it or try to steal it.

[There's something reassuring, though, about the snuffling way Trevor looks for her even blindly, slowly discovering for himself that some comforts are still within his grasp even if he can't see to do them.]

I could let you guide my hands. See through my eyes. You could use me for it, too, couldn't you? Not just Adrian.

Not unless this passes. I need to be able to write.

[ The panic is gone, at least, he's shaken but he's on the topic of strategy and that's always good for getting his head in order. Sypha is warm in his arms and for once he feels cold and so that's a blessing. And he can just bury his face in her hair and pretend that that's the reason the world is dark. ]

And the process is- you probably wouldn't like it. Adrian hates it. It's vampire bullshit, you have to consume blood for it to work.

You know I would do even that, for you.

[Even though that's not the point. Even though she understands that he's telling her this to explain why it's not an option to begin with. She settles against him instead, letting him hold her and knowing all the while that what she's doing right now is more than enough. Being an anchor, a tether, is more than enough. Letting him hold her and warm himself with her and feel like he's protecting her on some level — that's enough.

It's strange. He and Alucard are the same way; sometimes, her greatest strength isn't in being strong, but in letting herself need protection so that they can be the ones to do it. Paradoxical, to be strong for them by being weak, and yet sometimes that's just how it is.]

Just like I know you would do anything for me.

I know. [ And then, more confidently. ] I know. And I would.

[ He sighs into her hair, and then chuckles weakly. ]

We're stuck now, aren't we? Until he shows up.

We've never been stuck. We can go whenever we want to; it's only a little glass.

[She lets him hold her another minute, then draws back slowly, just enough to put a hand on his cheek and let him feel what she's about to do before she draws in close and kisses him.]

But I couldn't rescue you from the glass when it would've made you think you were a burden. There was something else I had to rescue you from, first.

I-

[ She's good at this. At knowing what they both need, even when they don't. And what he needed wasn't to not be behind a lot of fucking glass. It was to not be afraid. She's- not quite achieved that, not entirely, but he's better. A lot better.

Lips. That's lips. He's certain of that much, and he kisses back with only as much caution as is needed to not headbutt her by mistake. ]

My hero, then. My perfect, beautiful hero.

As you have been mine.

[When she kisses him again, it's more to the side, closer to the edge of his mouth so that it's more something to be accepted than something to be returned. A little gift. A blessing.]

Do you want to go? I will take you wherever you want to be.

20s AU Post

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)