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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...Well, there's one way to find out. I'm going to have a bite.

[She casts a quick glance at him, just briefly checking for approval, before wasting no time in picking up her fork and bringing a few loops of noodles to her mouth and starting to chew.

She'd had a very vivid picture in her mind, when she'd thought of this dinner — a big plate of pasta, and long, long noodles that seemed to go on forever, covered in sauce and herbs and nestled around big, rich meatballs. So it's no wonder, maybe, that her delight grows as the noodles prove far longer than expected, and she has to keep chewing and chewing in search of the noodle end that seems to be nowhere in sight.

Also, it tastes fantastic, which helps a lot.]

Mm — !

[Alucard doesn't start eating right away. Instead he watches Sypha's investigation of the dish, not bother to hiding the fact he's waiting for her reaction. No pressure, but also, he really does want to know.

So when it meets approval, not just in taste it seems but in exactly how long it takes to spin the noodles onto her fork, there's a little glow of pride he didn't know he cared about that much.]

I didn't go too hard on the garlic?

[A reasonable concern. Which he then goes about investigating himself, starting to get some spaghetti onto his own fork.]

Mm-mmm! No, it's just right, and the sauce is nice and warm, and —

[And that's about when it hits her, and all of a sudden she looks mortified, as she sets down her fork and slaps her hands over her mouth instead.]

I asked you to make a dinner full of garlic! Why didn't you say something?

[Sorry, Sypha. That reaction is too much, and he can only laugh at it. Not at her, just at the tone.]

Because it isn't a problem for me. Mild allergy for full vampires, and even then that's hit or miss.

[Plus, and if Alucard's being honest with himself, even if the garlic was a problem, he would have made the meal anyway.]

[Oh. He's laughing. He's laughing, and admittedly her first thought is that she hopes he doesn't laugh too hard and burst his stitches, but her second thought is just —

He's laughing.]

You're sure you're not just saying that to make me feel better about being rude?

I promise you, I am not.

[The laughing slows, stops, and then he actually eats. Because shit, this is good and there's enough sauce to feed a family of 12. Which means there will be an awful lot of leftovers.]

Nor would I particular mind if it was. [She's treated him as just another person so far. Not as Son of Dracula or any of his titles. Just as Adrian. That is a terrible rarity.]

You would not mind me being rude?

[She tilts her head, blinking at him as she glances askance to regard him.]

Well, I'm going to try not to be, whether you mind or not. I don't want to give that kind of impression of myself.

I'm afraid to tell you you've already made a first, second, and third impression, Miss Belnades. You would have to be stunningly rude to shake any of the high opinions I hold of you.

[Oh.

Too much? Probably.

Gonna just eat that meatball now.]

[...Oh.

Well.

She glances back down to her plate of spaghetti, cheeks touched with a light rosy flush, and shoves some noodles in her mouth to buy herself a few seconds of time.]

...Give me an example, please?

[Oh. She should clarify.]

Of what constitutes stunningly rude. I need to know. For benchmark purposes.

Trashing the house, I suppose.

[It's the first thing that comes to mind.]

Do you really need a benchmark?

[Oh, but she's blushing. That's cute.]

Yes. So that I can gauge what sort of things are still on the safe side of the boundary.

[...]

Like. Admitting I was hoping this dress would make you stare at me.

That's not rude at all. That's...

[Really flattering??? He sighs, but in the soft and content way.]

Mission accomplished.

You don't think it's manipulative?

[She's teasing, a little, but there's a genuine question in it, too. It's not so unheard-of, really; manipulation is what she does, whether it be of cards or of magic or of people. Sometimes it's difficult to step back from that, to really examine her own motives and determine where their roots lie.]

Mm, all right, what about...wanting to slurp my noodles?

I suppose one could argue that it's slight of hand, but this really isn't about tricks at the moment, is it?

[Alucard's pretty sure this isn't about tricks. It feels more like exploring something very rare and new for them both. He's afraid of it, just a little, but for the obvious reasons. With everything that's happened, he may very well just be clinging to the first thing that's offered a happy enough distraction.]

Do as you like. Although you might get sauce on your dress.

No, no tricks. Just...enjoying the attention.

[It's different, getting it when she's not actively soliciting it. It's different to stand out just because someone thinks she does, different to be different for a while and then go back to her people, where it's warm and familiar and everyone tries so hard to be the same.]

It's even more than just attention. You're spoiling me.

How is treating you as a guest spoiling you, exactly?

[Alucard's unfamiliar with the concept at the moment.]

You bought me fabric, and a lemonade, and ice cream, and made me dinner twice. Once just because I asked for it, even though you didn't know how to make it before. And that's just what you've done for me alone.

[She ticks each thing off on one of her fingers, and when she runs out of fingers on one hand she starts over again.]

You treat all of your guests with that sort of generosity?

I try to. If there are requests, I heed them. If there are things owed, I try to fulfill them. If there's anything else I can do, I will strive to do it.

[She's right, of course. But Alucard's not going to poke at it.]

I suppose I may have gone slightly overboard though.

Oh.

[Hmm. She turns her attention back to her pasta for a minute, sampling one of the meatballs and thoughtfully demolishing another portion of the noodles in relative silence before tentatively offering up:]

...Is there anything you would do for me that you wouldn't do for an ordinary guest?

[There's a very long pause. Consideration of the question. Then he realizes there's already an answer.]

I suppose the way we were holding hands the other day...

[She can't help but sigh, shaking her head with a soft laugh, and pokes at her plate again.]

Never mind. It's not that important a question.

[Because that's what people always say about unimportant questions. Sure.]

You did a perfect job. I don't think I've tasted anything better.

[He feels as if there was some part of the question he missed. Too late now, but Alucard's going to be content with praise for his cooking. It's rewarding. And nice to know.]

Thank you. I'm glad that it met and exceeded your expectations. There's plenty more, if you wish for it.

[Alucard's going to have leftovers for days. Which is fine, but he wants Sypha to eat her fill first.]

You were further north when you first saw this dish, weren't you? New York or Boston?

Almost directly north of here! We passed through Chicago on our way to the Mississippi River, and took steamboats south.

[The memory brings a smile back to her face, and she sighs a little dreamily, winding another mouthful of noodles around the tines of her fork as she remembers it.]

I liked the steamboats. They were full of songs.

Ah, I listed every option but the correct one.

[Alucard's interested by that smile though. So there's only one thing to do: prod her for far more elaboration while he shuts up, eats, and listens.]

What was the journey like, getting here?

[And that proves to be a question that she could answer with a narrative that goes on and on and on, and she does. It lasts through the rest of her plate of dinner; it lasts until the sunset is once again staining the room hues of orange and gold. She thinks of details to add as they put the plates away and store the rest of the pasta for later; she chatters as he leads her into the living room and they find their seats again, and as this time she takes the loveseat for herself instead of the chair and kicks off her shoes to curl her legs up beneath her on it, catlike.

But soon, things wind down, and a pleasant solemnity settles around them. She's toying with the tassled fringe on the edges of one of the throw pillows, and watching him, and more importantly, watching him watch her right back.

It's as though they both know that the evening ought to end any minute, and yet both of them are pointedly ignoring it in the hopes that if they refuse to acknowledge it, maybe the reality of it will just go away.]

You are in high spirits tonight.

[She observes, managing not to yawn in the middle.]

You're feeling better, then?

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