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

Agreed. Anything that touches my blood needs to be destroyed.

[That's the most important part. This young woman being here is probably a risk to her people and their safety. He cannot jeopardize anything else in addition to that simple fact.

He's cooperative though. Lets himself be unheaped because there's something easier about having a person who isn't himself directing all of his limbs, the rest is on gravity and momentum to follow her lead.]

Do you require someone else's blood to heal this?

[She's simply got to be blunt about it; there's really no time for anything else. Shucking off her top layer of robes, she moves up to his head and lifts it unceremoniously, just long enough to shove the cloth underneath it as a makeshift pillow.]

Also. I have a steel needle and a silver one. If I suture this, which will pierce better to make the stitches?

Not immediately. It can be seen to when I'm home, there is a supply from one of the hospitals we arrange with.

[He's trying to be quick. Anything else is unhelpful to the speaker and....

...and the pillow comes with a little grateful noise.]

First one. Silver will only burn.

Very well.

[She digs in her bag, finding the flask of water and one of her towels, which she reluctantly holds out to him.]

I assume you do not want me to touch your blood, so I need you to clean it off yourself first. This is water to rinse, and the towel to blot.

Do you have gloves?

[He asks it as Sypha hands him the flask. He can pour the water down his front, use his non-bloodied hand to wash out the dirt that has doubtlessly got itself caught in the wound. There's a horrible hiss as he does so, one that is enlongated for as long as he is scrubbing through everything.

Then there's the towel. It hurts in it's own way, but it is a little easier. Just by a hair.]

I didn't bring any, I'm sorry. If you need more water, tell me and I can make more.

[WITCHCRAFT.]

Be gentler with yourself. Don't scrub, just...stroke. Like this.

[She motions vaguely for him, trying to mime the appropriate method and level of care.]

I think it's enough.

[He doesn't even blink at making more water. She's a Speaker, it could be some kind of metaphor or. Or whatever. Alucard's decided that minimal thinking is best right now since there's someone else to help.]

Slightly too late for that now.

[But apparently he has enough in him to gently be a bit of an ass.]

Don't be a smart-aleck.

[She says, to Dracula's son, a literal vampire (or at least half of one) who, even injured, could still probably eviscerate her faster than she could blink, if he wanted to.

As the blood and dirt starts to wash away, she's got a much better vantage point on the actual nature of his wound, and she winces to look at it. It's deep, and ugly. There's no chance it won't scar.]

...I should tell you now that I have never done this before, in practice. I know the theory. And if you know something I do not about your own...anatomy, tell me. But this will get infected if it stays open. I think it will need to be sewn shut.

[In any better time, Alucard would actually laugh at being told off. As it stands, he accepts the chiding for what it is, since he can't alienate the only help he's received. The only help that's willing to risk so much for well, a stranger. Who only knows him by reputation, and what a terrible reputation it is.]

If there is anything at all I can think of, I will say so. These injuries usually heal within seconds, and you can see the flesh trying to do so. There's...something preventing it. So do whatever you determine is appropriate.

[It isn't dramatic to say his life is in her hands. Just accurate.]

This will hurt. Perhaps terribly.

[She's digging in her bag again, looking around for supplies, and eventually finds a steel needle and heavy thread. Chewing the edge of her lip, she surveys the gash in his chest once more, and ventures carefully.]

Tell me what happens when you burn yourself. On a stove, or on something hot. How do you heal yourself from that? Does your body mend beneath the burn and push out the burned portion?

That's fine.

[Sypha, he's pretty sure this can't get worse. Pretty sure.]

Similar to that. The flesh moves layer by layer, inside out, to put it all to rights. Does that make sense?

I think so, yes.

[She draws a deep breath. Lets it out. Seems to center her focus.]

Then what I propose is to cauterize the wound to keep it from bleeding, until I can stitch it closed. Then, with a bandage and your...hospital supply, perhaps that will be enough help for your body to manage on its own.

[She pauses again.]

But I cannot safely touch the wound as it is, from what you have said. So. I will put the spell in your hand, and you —

[...]

I need you to do it to yourself.

[Alucard listens. He's careful to understand the proposal. Burn it to stop bleeding. Bandage it. Go home, and then....deal with the rest.

And have him do the actual burning.

It's actually a terrifying concept but it'll have to do. He nods.]

Have you managed to put spells in people's hands before?

I can hold them in my own. I just thought it would be more elegant to set it in your palm than to put it over your wound and have you slap it down into place.

[Setting her needle and thread aside in a clean, protected place a moment, she closes her eyes and shapes her fingers into a steeple. When she pulls them apart again, there is a small, firecoal-glowing ball of fire in her right hand, resting against the palm.]

I follow the concept. I am also in no place to refuse any of your suggestions.

[He watches her though. The needle being threaded, the little thing of fire that's there. Alucard's certain that this will either be a medical breakthrough or just send him to the world of unconsciousness. Either is good.]

Tell me when you're ready.

...You didn't ask why I agreed to help you, when our elder refused.

[Her eyes slide open slowly, measured and calm, revealing blue eyes gone just a little too intense with the whisper of magic. The ball of fire skims through the air, slowly coming to rest against his hand, where oddly it only gives off the barest hint of heat, as though glassed-in by some unseen force.]

Survive, in order to ask me when we are done.

[She nods slightly, and readies herself.]

I don't question offered help.

[She's doing it, and that's all that matters. She helped. Whatever her motivation, he ultimately doesn't think it terribly important. Not right now.

The heat in Alucard's hand is a terror. It brings to mind too many other horrible things, even if what is there is the barest of hint of warmth. He's ready. He's as ready as he can be, and Alucard turns his focus to the matter at hand and only the matter at hand.

He breathes out. Keeps his eyes down on his chest, not at the intense blue ones tending to him.]

All right, then. Begin.

[Her needle is ready; with a tiny tongue of flame, she sterilizes it before disinfecting the thread running through the eye. This is a task that will take several hands, which is why they need to work together on it; in the instant he pulls his hand away from cauterizing the wound, she'll move in immediately to complete the stitch.

And then they'll do it again. And again. And again.]

[As blazing, agonizingly painful as it is, Alucard is impressed as well. Not just with how she's managed to find a way to deal with the problem of his blood, but at the terribly fine control of the flame. It's rare for any mage to have that level of skill, he's never witnessed it.

Then there's the deftness of her hands. She's a steady worker. Acts like she's done this before even though that's not the truth of the matter. There's no room for other thoughts though, not until everything is done.

How long it takes to finish isn't something Alucard even remotely thinks about. All he knows is that it has been some time, and that if he did not feel the bone deep exhaustion of this all before, he feels it now. His limbs are heavy. His mind aches for all the concentration he has just exerted. And he is so very, very far from home.

She's probably missed among her people, isn't she?]

[Eventually, things draw to a close; the last knot is tied, the smell of charred flesh finally allowed to taper off and dissipate for the final time. She's tired, but she can't possibly be as bad off as the vampire is, so she makes herself rally and reaches for her bag again, bringing out a bandage and pad large enough to cover the stitches and protect them from the open air.

But then, at the last, she finds a clean rag and coats half of it with ice before lighting fire in her fingers, melting it away until the cloth is damp, and she can reach for his face to gently freshen him up.

This much, at least, has nothing to do with medicine. It's simply an idle kindness — the comfort of having a clean face, instead of a dirty, grimy one.]

[Alucard's stopped registering the smell of burnt flesh. It is a required immunity for this moment and for a painfully long time to come. He...he remembers what it smelled like. He remembers the body. He remembers every horrifying second of it, and to be immune to the scent means that the memory has less power than it might otherwise. Now...now he registers the lack of it. How strange it is to smell the air again, the traces of fire now on the wind.

There are other smells now. Swampy ones from the bayous mostly, mixed with cooler air. Dampness on the ground. Winters are't cold here, but there is morning dew and it must be periously close to morning now.

He remains still as the last of the work is done. Bandages and things between them meant to absorb blood and fight infection. The practical things and...

...and the smaller kindnesses. He reacts not from the water but from the gesture itself. There's only a whispered:]

Thank you.

[It carries the weight of the world.]

[There's all manner of filth coming away as she washes his face — dirt, blood, sweat, ash. She goes slow, and takes care not to miss a spot, making sure to work all the way up to just slightly past the hairline to try to combat as much of the scummy, grubby feeling as she can.]

It will be light soon. And we have done a great deal of work, to have it go to waste if you are struck by a sunbeam.

[She sighs, considering.]

I don't think I can sneak you back into the camp and hide you there for a whole day. I could cut my robes and try to make you a canopy of some kind, to hide in. But I will be missed if I am not back soon, and tomorrow all day I have to be in town. We've been relying on the money that I and a few others can make.

[And she'll have to replace the supplies she's used on him, she thinks grimly, but doesn't mention it; no sense in making an already wounded person feel like a burden.]

[The quiet gives Alucard just a few moments to figure out how to get home. (If home is still an option.) There's a few places in the area he can rest in undisturbed. Let sleep claim him for a few hours, regain some strength so he can walk himself back to the castle. He closes his eyes as he thinks, unaware of how bad it all is until his eyes flutter open and he catches sight of the rag.

Fuck.

But her first concern is the easiest thing to lay to rest.]

Sunlight doesn't do me harm, Speaker. You needn't worry about that.

[He's taken enough of her kindness. From here he shall manage, or he shall be undone. Between the two, Alucard trusts himself to pick the first one. Chain himself to it and drags himself up along that chain if his legs fail him.]

There are places here that are hidden from the road. With a few hours of rest, I can manage.

Take the robes, then. You will have a pillow, if nothing else.

[She sets the rag aside, and starts putting together the things she can salvage and take back with her into one pile, and the ones that he's said will need to be destroyed into another.]

...But I do not like the thought of leaving you alone.

[She chews her lip, anxious but thoughtful.]

Tell me where you intend to hide. I can...stop and check on you, on my way from the camp into town.

[There's a look on Alucard's face when she says take the robes. It's baffled. Because that's the number one weird thing going on right now, being given the robes of a Speaker. A symbol of identity that to take feels so wrong, even if it is offered. Extremely so.]

I...no. You'll need them more than I.

[This'll start an argument. He's sure of it. Still, some things in this world are sacred. This feels like one of them.]

Three hundred yards up on the right fork here there is a small clearing, hidden by brush and with no foot traffic. It'll do.

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