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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Mmfph.

[Alucard had managed to sleep against all odds. Sypha had forced him into bed at a reasonable hour of the night and threatened him just a little if he didn't. So he acquised, and the exhaustion of stress from starting to track Carmilla's social network sent him into the arms of Morpheus. Horrifying how that outweighed his worry for Trevor. (His claims were the only thing that soothed.)

So waking up to that voice on the radio, that's a horror. Alucard sits up slowly as to not disturb Sypha, but that is all he can manage. There's an apology on his lips and he presses a single kiss to the top of her head before he escapes her warmth.

There's no time to change into work clothes with a voice like that. Alucard is at the mirror, and he immediately reflects it to Trevor.]

What's happened?

[ There is an arrow. An actual fucking arrow. Sticking out of his side. Could Damien not have at least kept his traps updated? There's no excuse! This house is maybe a century old at most! Guns were accessible!

Yes he's kind of stuck on that. For fucks sake, vampires deliberately using outdated traps to look older.

He just motions to it, with an expression that indicates that he's really kind of irritated about this situation more than anything. ]

Family wisdom is to just fucking leave these things in and get them out later. [ His voice, on the other hand, is deliberately calm. A little strained. He's not just irritated, he's just playing that up. It fucking hurts. ] But- I'm fairly sure this is cold-forged. Does father dearest have instructions for dealing with this shit?

[ If there's anyone who's stupid and dramatic enough to still have instructions for how to deal with fucking bows and arrows in the fucking 1920s it's going to be Dracula. Or his own family, to be fair. ]

[Alucard hisses angrily at the sight before him. Damien is still fucking with them from beyond the grave. The thought of tearing him apart again doesn't exactly calm Alucard, but it helps just a little.]

Cold-forged. That'd be in the medical library, not the record books. [Alucard knows where those are. He deals with them easier, and before everything happened, Alucard was starting to index things. He got as far as E, so that means...

...he should have it indexed already.]

I should be able to find the information. Give me a moment, I need to get the appropriate reference material. Can you manage that?

Managed this long, I'll be fine. Didn't even know fucking cold iron was a thing until now.

[ Steel is fine, cold-forged or not! He's never been stabbed with pure, cold-forged iron! It's not a common sort of situation to be in!

He's doing a decent job of keeping up this general anger at the whole situation, and that's keeping him alert and steady. He rolls his eyes, trying to demonstrate how much this is just an inconvenience rather than a danger. ]

[Alucard's up and on his feet. The medical library is further from his office than it should be, and there's a terrible burst of vampire speed to make the problem go away quicker. It is that pace that Alucard maintains as he flips through the records of his father, and when he returns to the office, it is with a great tomb on his lap.

The fae never came to his father's part of Europe, but there were other things hurt by iron within old Wallachia that required knowledge of how to heal harm done.]

The notes here are scant, but they're present. Among the first suggestions are cleaning the wound with, and this is incredibly counter-intuitive, ash from a yew or other sacred tree, thus neutralizing the effects of the iron and then cleaning and dressing the wound from there.

[Obviously, that's not an option.]

I'm going to assume you can't touch it but can you move at all? There's some notes here about an abundance of the material being a way to trap those with relations to the Fair Folk.

I'm touching the fuck out of it right now. Rather wish I wasn't, to be honest. No idea if it's bad to touch or just to be stabbed with, but I'm guessing either way it'd be more pleasant to have it in my hands than in my guts.

[ He pauses before answering, though. The bravado is to buy himself time to think how to describe the situation without causing Alucard too much distress. ]

This side's cold, and- yeah. Hard to move. [ He gestures to the side with the arrow on, if that wasn't obvious. ] Other side is a little stiff, but not too shit. The cold's what I was worried about. It's been spreading.

[ He's FAIRLY CERTAIN that that's not meant to happen. ]

Edited 2019-01-26 03:04 (UTC)

[The cold means potential paralysis. Alucard's face is a carefully telegraphed display of no feelings at all, and his eyes move back to his father's notes. Cold spreading, that means the effects of the iron is in the wound and spreading. The rate is probably expedited by Damien's own magic.

Lack of sacred trees will not render Trevor unable to walk, so help him.

The page notes that for fae, there tends to be no good antidote to iron. Fae touched things, which Trevor qualifies as, have different properties and thus potential treatments that would be otherwise closed off.]

First thing's first, clean the wound out and put warm towels to it, that will help with the immediate issue. [This is damage control. Always the first step.]

The wound can be cleaned with salt, but it needs to be scrubbed intensely and it is against everyone's thought to put salt in a wound. But from what I understand...[What's a good metaphor here...]

When I clean the cast iron pans, I use salt on them instead of water to avoid rust. This is a similar thing.

Fuck off, you don't need to explain the virtues of salt to me.

[ BUDDY 'JUST PUT SALT ON IT' IS BASICALLY ALL BELMONT MEDICINE IS.

Luckily, he's in an alchemist's study. Salt isn't hard to come by, and he doesn't need to stand to gather it. He has that, a small paraffin stove heating water and some cloths already to hand. ]

Like a werewolf bite, then. Pack the fucker with salt. Do I leave the arrow in or take it out?

I forgot I'm talking to someone who wouldn't blink twice at the concept of salting a wound. Forgive me.

[Is he being sassy about this? Absolutely.

Alucard scowls as he watches Trevor go about the work. He's going to fucking salt Damien's entire estate, that's what he's going to do. Just for pure spite now. (Alucard cannot be allowed to do that, that's Pure Dad and thus not something he should consider.)]

The notes don't say. My gut says that anything that's in a wound should stay there until you can have appropriate medical attention. The rest of me wants you to take it out, lest the effect of the salt wear off.

Well if your various body parts could come to a consensus, that would be great.

[ This is a great time for them both to act like children. He considers it himself and sighs, taking a small sharp knife. ]

Fuck it, your gut isn't the part of you that kisses me, it doesn't get a say in the matter.

Does the mirror you're using allow for material to pass through it?

[Alucard's asking with purpose, even as he looks away. That knife and what it needs to do isn't something he wishes to see.]

I don't think so. Not from this side, at least. Those things are rare.

[ There are sounds, even if he can't see. A long sigh muffled by something. The sound of breathing through the sides of the mouth. (he's biting down on the leather handle of the vampire killer. better that way. he doesn't need a fucking cracked tooth on top of everything else).

He doesn't yell, at least. Though the sound of the breathing becoming heavier and more choked isn't that much better. It's difficult, having to use only the arm at the opposite side to do this. The breaths become shorter, each one ending with a choke, as he tries to get the arrow out of him without the arrowhead breaking off (He should not need to carry an arrow spoon! In the twentieth fucking century!). But finally, finally, there is the sound of something clattering to the floor. He spits out the whip, holding one of the cloths to his side, head fallen back with hair clinging to the sweat on his face. ]

Fuck.

[ There's still the salt to go. That's going to be a fucking delight. ]

[The sounds are horrible. Alucard has to fold his hands over his chest and let his terrible claws dig into his own arms, rather than the furniture. He knows why he's been chided for doing so in the past (and that desk blotter hides so many sins it seems), so this is what it has to be. Whatever blood gets drawn, however it hurts, it is nothing compared to Trevor at the moment.

He looks away from the mirror out of politeness though. Medical proceedures need that if they're self administered, there's nothing worse than a pair of eyes watching your every move as you heal yourself.

When Trevor swears, Alucard looks back. There's an immediate upswell of anger at the state of Trevor, all sweat and blood, and this still isn't the worst of it.

Fuck indeed.]

Are you going to be able to get home?

[He has zero compulsions about getting into the car right now. It's only because Trevor might tell him not to that Alucard isn't on his way as is.]

[ That's- a question with a multi-layered answer. ]

You really don't want me home right now. Trust me.

[ He came here prepared to run into a vampire in her sixth or seventh century, he's wrapped up in so much anointing oil and holy magic that he probably can't so much as safely be in the same room as Alucard, let alone the effects he could have on the defenses of the castle. He sits up, giving a weak grin. ]

Don't worry, I just needed to know what to do about this shit. Once I'm done, I can finish my work here. Bunicuta will be here at dawn. She'll take me back to her house, and I'll stay there until everything wears off.

Is it going to be like this every time...?

[Every time he has to go out and investigate some fresh new hell? Every time that work involves more than just playing along at bullshit parties? If so, he hates it.]

This shit needs better documentation. [He can't believe he's at the point in life of having to keep medical records for the fey. That's. That's a thing happening now. Alucard reaches for a notebook within his desk.]

How long will it take for everything to wear off? Days?

Until we know her aims and whether or not she's capable of compulsion? Yeah. Sorry. Safety first, and all that shit. I'd rather not be turned against the two of you, and I'd really rather not be turned in general.

[ He didn't use any of this shit when confronting Alucard for the first time. If it hasn't been long clear that his aim there was never really to succeed. He talks, waiting for the bleeding to slow a little so that he can start scrubbing at this cut. ]

For the cold iron? No fucking clue, this is a first for me. For the shit I've used to protect myself? A long bath in saltwater should take care of the worst of it, and Sypha to break the spells. Bunicuta'll want me to stay with her a while just in case, but I should be able to come home at evening. I just-

[ -will still be painful to the touch. ]

-I'll have to use my own room for a few days.

You're right. [He sighs, not hiding how much he hates this.] This is the right thing to do.

[Alucard never doubted that Trevor showed up on the doorstep with a deathwish. All these layers of protection only confirm that fact. Over the months he has had terrible pangs of guilt about that night and where it forced Trevor. Now is one of those times the pang kicks in.

(Logically, he knows that nothing could be changed. After all, how was he to know that this is where they would end? Yet what was endured due to Damien upsets him. Trevor will never know about this train of thought.)]

I did mean everything that wasn't the iron. I'll have Sypha come pick you up in the demon car just to be sure since if you're in your own room, you shouldn't be in my car.

[He really hates that last sentence.]

The minute that iron wound starts behaving badly, you need to tell me.

I was going to ask Bunicuta to bring me back but- the demon car might be best. If nothing else, it'll make a decent test of if I'm safe or not.

[ The tin cup of water over the paraffin burner is starting to bubble. So it's as good at time as ever. That stupid forced smile returns to his face, but there's a warmth to it. Something apologetic. He shouldn't be putting Alucard through this shit. ]

Time for the shitty part. Let's see if this works. If not- I guess I get to find out if any of the furniture in this shithole is made of yew wood.

The demon car apparently is complaining that it hasn't been out for too long, so we need to shut it up. My apologies.

[He hates the demon car. Why did Sypha have to make it a demon car?

He's already flinching at that boiling water. Alucard. Hates. This. But he needs to make sure it works in case this ever happens again.]

Do what must be done.

[Alucard knows where there's some in the house, at least.]

Well, if it ends up exorcised, I warned you.

[ And he half debates putting this off to talk about the car, but- no. It's slowed, but he can still feel the chill spreading. He'd really rather not find out what happens if that creeping cold reaches his heart or brain. And so he puts the whip between his teeth again, soaking one of the cloths in the boiling water and covering it with salt, then sets about scrubbing the injury with it.

There is a yell this time, at first, though he silences it quickly. He holds the cloth still for a few seconds, breathing heavily, getting used to the horrible sensation, before he starts to scrub. And for a long time, the sound is just breath. Heavy, steady breath, with the enormity of the pain only given away by tiny twitches of his fingers and legs.

(Alucard will have last seen those little twitches in much happier circumstances. Hopefully this won't ruin that too badly.)

By the end of it, once the cleaning is done and the wound has been packed entirely with salt and all that is left to done is to dress it and pray that this works, the edges of his mouth are rubbed raw by the whip, with dried drool trailing down from them. He's gasping for breath when the whip drops out of his mouth, and focusing his eyes on Alucard seems to take a lot more effort than it should. ]

Better- better fucking be worth it.

Sypha will just find a new demon and we both know it.

[Because that is who they've placed their affections with. A too powerful mage that puts demons inside of cars.

Alucard can't know the internal damage, but he can watch what happens next. This is terrible, watching it all and being unable to help. Knowing that even if he was there to help, he couldn't go near Trevor because Trevor's wrapped himself up so tightly in protective spells that Alucard could do nothing but stay away.

His focus is on the wound. Not on how Trevor's hands move, not on anything else but the injury itself because that makes this bearable. He is watching surgery to try and learn from it, he isn't watching his boyfriend pour boiling fucking water on himself and salting the wound. Just. Fey surgery. Because cold iron is a problem.

Alucard hisses when it's all done.]

To hell with this. I'm calling Agatha to pick you up now.

No. No, don't. Still got shit to do here, and now I'm behind on it.

[ The dressing is easy enough. Alucard would have never let him leave without a well-stocked medical kit, and the dressing and bandages are part of that. He tries to regain his composure at least a little as he works on that. The last of the boiling water goes onto a clean corner of the cloth and after waving it around a while to cool it a little he uses it to wipe the sweat from his face and the blood from his hands. And then he sits still, getting his breath back. ]

Just- stay with me until I know whether the cold's stopped spreading. If it doesn't stop, you can call on her. If it does, I'll continue.

How much is left?

[Trevor's getting an updated medical kit when this is done, packed with salt and yew ashes so that this never, never happens again. He is very quiet as this is all finished, one hand moving to the mirrors edge. He can't do anything. This is so fucking infuriating.]

Fine. [He'd really just call her now.]

I'll make sure your bed's got clean sheets and additional blankets when you're back.

Few more rooms. Need to go through the feeding cells again.

[ Which is in itself a difficult conversation topic. ]

Assumed the blood in there was mine and he just hadn't fucking cleaned in a year, but there's a letter here about him 'taking care of a pet'. I'm guessing that means a human, not a cat or something. And since we know there was a forgemaster involved in this shit-

[ It's time to go back in there and collect some fucking blood. ]

Edited 2019-01-26 22:56 (UTC)

[There's just a groan to all of that. Feeding cells are enough, Alucard tends to pointedly ignore how many of those he has to keep in line now have indulged in that practice. But.

The rest.

Damien's phrasing has always rankled. But the reminder of that fucking man who is responsible for all of this is too much.[

I continue to hate every inch of this.

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