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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[The car had gotten then both home. Alucard barely steered it, and in that there was a blessing. (As much as a demon car could ever give blessings.) He was free to concentrate on Sypha's breathing, making sure she was with him in all the ways that mattered, in looking in the mirrors to ensure the necromancer did not follow him home. The blood from his chest didn't matter, nothing did, nothing mattered until the demon car was home and in the garage and Trevor was already there waiting and then everything else became triage.

Alucard had to see to himself. That left Trevor in charge of Sypha, and if there needed to be any more proven trust between the three of them, that was it. Watching her be carried off and cared for by the person who frankly had just ensured that they both survived the necromancer's workshop. In better times, Alucard might stop and sigh from happiness.

It wasn't better times. He had to take care of another gaping chest wound, and that had his time and concentration. Compared to the blow dealt by his father, the cut was nothing, but...

...but it had information that could be extracted, and so Alucard forced himself to wait for everything else to be seen to before asking Trevor to take whatever samples he could. There were spots of black ichor clinging to the wound, and as those were cleaned out, Alucard's skin began to heal as it usually did. But unlike usual, there was a mark from it. Deep and dark magic, the kind that would scar anyone who let it get it's hooks into them.

Then there was only one thing left to do: retreat into their room. Their room, their bed where none of them had been for a week, both Trevor and Alucard curled around Sypha to form a wall around her. Arms clinging. Faces buried into wherever they could reach, secure in the knowledge that such an arrangement would not change.

It is not until two days later, when he is gathering up the breakfast dishes (Sypha is getting breakfast in bed for a week at least) that Alucard well and truly realizes what the marks on Sypha's arms are. His focus has been on her simply being in the house, being in his arms, being in Trevor's arms, being there that anything like damage has been considered in full. Those are not necromancer marks.

The tray full of dishes get sets aside. Placed onto the ground, and Alucard settles at the edge of the bed.]

Do you need anything else right now?

[His hands rest flat on the mattress.]

[It's a little strange to be the one recuperating and doted on, for a change; she's so used to being the one seeing to the others, worrying about them and mending them however she can, that it's strange to have nothing more to do but to lie still in their bed and let herself be fussed over. They don't leave her alone; one or both of them are always close at hand, there when she opens her eyes after a doze and there as her eyelids fall closed as exhaustion reclaims her. She doesn't remember the bandages going on her arms, or the salve on her scrapes and bruises. Maybe that's for the better.

The one silver lining of her captivity, as it turns out, had been that the immobility had given her little else to do but lie still and drowse, which had helped a great deal with the concussion she'd received from the blow to the head in the morgue. Not as good as if she'd had immediate medical treatment for it, but still, better than it might've been otherwise. Slowly, the headaches are lessening, and the constant nourishment is doing her good. She's on the mend, at least physically.

Psychologically — well, that's another matter. But Trevor and Alucard are here. They're here, they're never far away.

(She'd asked them to get rid of all of the mirrors in the room, and to keep the lights on day and night. It's a selfish thing, but of course they'd given it to her. They would give her anything, these days.)

It's Alucard taking a shift with her now, and her eyelids are heavy as she watches him, not really wanting to fall back asleep but tempted to from how consumed with comfort she is, full of breakfast and warm and safe and listening blessedly to the familiar sound of his voice.]

...Did someone listen to my radio show?

[She'd been gone for a week; she'd missed the latest installment. Not that she'd had the chance to worry about it at the time, but now that things are settling back to normal, it's a small sadness to contend with.

She's also speaking French, in part because that's somehow just what her aching head had settled on as being easiest (soft consonants, familiar vowels, rolling easily off her tongue and forgiving if they mush together or slur with sleepiness), and in part because it's easiest on Trevor, while still making herself understood across the board.]

I'm afraid not. Our understanding of time was...tenuous at best, most days.

[He won't lie about the obvious facts, the things she could infer without either of them explaining the nuts and bolts of how they functioned in her absence. Sypha knows them far too well now. Neither of them did well. Radio shows were the very last thing on their minds. They'll have to bring in the radio to the bedroom for the next episode (or perhaps carry her out to it.)

Alucard's responses have been in English this whole time. His spoken French is more localized than the other two, and it takes more time for them to parse the particulars out. (It is still not his Romanian.)

His hand moves back, and it rests gently on Sypha's middle. Cooler hands against soft and warm blankets, the trim of his bathrobe falling against the fabric. His pressure is gentle, scared that he might press against a bruise too hard.]

I'm sorry.

Mmmm.

[That feels nice, actually. The familiar weight of his hand, cool but not unpleasant, on her stomach. A touch she welcomes, after a week of flinching away from every attempt.]

S'my fault. I was careless.

[Whether she was or she wasn't, it's easier to simply accept the blame for it than let Trevor or Alucard carry the burden of guilt themselves.]

No.

[It's a soft response, but firm.]

None of us can let our thoughts go down that road. That way lies madness.

[His father's kind of madness, the madness of guilt and grief that causes one to do such stupid things. Then there is Alucard's other hand, searching for Sypha's. He does not wish to disturb all the layers and warmth wrapped around her, but he must make a point. The only point worth making right now.

When he takes her hand in his, he watches as a sleeve rolls down. The clawmarks, those cause him to flinch, but he cannot dwell on that. He can only lean down, down just enough to press a featherlight kiss to where one of them begins. His eyes close, his hair hangs down, brushing against her forearms.]

This is the only careless thing in the equation. The only thing any of us must ask forgiveness for.

Why?

[It's an honest question, amid the sleepiness. Her eyelids are fluttering, drooping down until her eyes are nearly shut before half-opening again, punctuated by quiet yawns and a faintly listing head.]

It was you, wasn't it...? Holding me.

[Trying to hold on to her, she means. That night. She'd been blindfolded, she doesn't actually know.]

Because I drew your blood. I promised myself I would never do that the moment you told me to meet you at those crossroads.

[It is about causing injury. He does not regret holding her so tight. He only regrets the harm. He's careful as he kisses along the line he has left in her, moving, up, up, up until the scar fades close to her elbow.

Other vampires will look at those lines, look at Alucard's hands, and they will see the word mine. He cannot imagine a worse thing for them to think of something that came from terror and desperation.]

So, a promise to yourself, not to me.

[She sighs, finally letting her eyes close against the feeling of his lips climbing the length of her arm, basking in the gentleness and care.]

That means you need to ask forgiveness of yourself, not me.

I need to be sure that it has...[Words. A year in and he is still terrible at them. There's a sigh that brushes against Sypha's skin.] To know that you have no ill feelings for it, before I can allow myself to be free from guilt.

Why do you think I would be upset at you for it?

[It takes her a second or two, but then it seems to occur to her that it's a question that would benefit from clarification, and she seems to search a minute before finding the explanation she wants.]

I need you to talk me through your thoughts. Your worries. I...can't focus, to do it like I usually can. I need you to help me.

[Alucard's lips withdraw from Sypha's arm slowly. The rest of him stays still, because Sypha's need for clarification forces his own thoughts into focus. What this about, what it's really about is his lack of control in the moment. The fear that always comes with it, how close he teetered to not being Adrian or even Alucard for the past week, but Dracula. Reborn and terrible and just as dangerous to the city for it.

So he tries to find words. What he settles on is something he hopes makes sense.]

Because in trying to protect you, there was harm brought instead. That...that is the long and short of it, in the end. I failed you.

[She's quiet, then, for a long moment, and at first it might seem as though she's thinking deeply about what he's said, but in fact she's really just drifted off a little without noticing it, and has to resurface out of her drowsiness to come back into focus on the present moment.]

What if you hadn't?

[She motions vaguely to her arm, then winces when a little sting jumps up her arm from the movement.]

If you had let go of me. Would you feel any better, knowing you had let go instead of hurting me?

...I suppose not.

[She's dozing. She shouldn't be burdened with this anymore, he is being a selfish ash. So Alucard does the only thing that feels right in this moment, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.]

That is all I needed.

[There will be quiet guilt that he will work through, and it will be easier now.]

Mm. No, it's not.

[She sighs happily, though, as she feels his lips touch her forehead, and lifts her chin a little in the hopes of catching another kiss, this one a little lower than the other.]

You're brooding.

[He wants to protest the comment. She's right, of course she is. Sypha's beat to hell and back and she is still so very observant. So it is easier to respond to how she lifts her chin. To kiss her on the lips with as much force as he dare at this precarious moment and...

...he hasn't done this since she was home, has he?

That thought strikes him as he breaks the first kiss and drives him into the second, a little more forceful than the first.]

[This is, she thinks absently, the catharsis that his father never got. A human woman, taken from him, ripped from his arms, and there was no rescue effectuated in time. The lord of vampires never got to return his wife to her bed and sit at her side, and weep over the scars bitten into her skin, and kiss her in his relief.

It's an odd thing to think of, in a moment like this. But the thought crosses her mind anyway, and makes her want to press into him all the more, suddenly hungry not just for rest and rejuvenation, but to feel the overwhelming depth of his love of her as well.]

Adrian —

[It's halfway to a moan, falling from her tongue as her lips part slightly, as she recognizes that she's too tired and aching for much, but desperately craving affection from him nevertheless.]

[In the upswell of affection (he brings his arms around her, pulls her from the pile of pillows into his arms, presses her close) there is a familiar note. Of being parted too soon, of so many things tugging them in other directions, not enough time. Of she came back except that refrain is now more terrified than relieved.

He breaks for air. It is for a moment, and he sigh he makes is not catharsis but terrible and terrified longing.]

Sypha...

[She needs to rest. She doesn't need to be overwhelmed like this, but he is selfish, so selfish right now.]

I love you.

[She doesn't want to be upright. Reclining is better, somehow, even though Alucard's kisses are even better still, and so when he pulls her into his arms she sort of half-swoons into them, slumping sideways so that he's left cradling her in a position not unlike a princess carry, except that her legs are still tucked beneath her instead of hooked over his forearm.

It hurts to move. It hurts more to be separated from him, even for an instant.]

I love you too.

[Je t’aime, je t’aime, je suis amoureuse de toi. The words spill like a waterfall from her lips, each syllable cascading into the next.]

You know I do.

[Alucard shouldn't have her in his arms like this. It isn't safe, it isn't good for her recovery. That swoon is all the indicator that he needs to know better. But oh, she's in his arms, snug and warm and safe. He doesn't move her from his arms, he has her there.

(It's always been the opposite in the past, hasn't it?)

The French that spills forth from her lips is kissed after every breath.]

I know. This house was not the same without it's hearthfire, it was wrong.

[Safe. She's safe. Alucard is holding her and she can see, she can breathe, there are no claws bared, no stink of magic in the air, no shatter of mirror shards. She's safe, and he is holding her, and he's not going to let her go. He's not going to have to.

This is where she belongs.]

And now...?

[She laughs softly, a weak and wryly stuttering thing.]

I'm barely an ember right now, if that.

But you are home.

[Everything else can be fixed. Alucard buries his face in the top of her head, breathing in the smell of her. Letting hair tickle is nose, feeling himself trying to memorize every inch of her. (He has it committed to memory already.)

He shifts so that she can lie down again. But he goes down beside her, refusing to release his grip.]

Tomorrow I'll carry you to the library.

I can hardly hold a fork, much less a book.

[But when she's lying down again, the sigh that escapes her is one that seems to take all the tension in her body with it, causing something in her to deflate and leaving her pleasantly boneless in his arms.]

...Do something for me?

A different set of walls to look at. More windows.

[It is a fright to see her like this. Soft and boneless in his arms is one thing, welcome and happy and lovely when he or Trevor or both are the cause of it. But for simply sitting up and kissing him, that's so very wrong.]

Whatever you ask, it will be done.

Touch me. Like you did before.

[She lets her head list to the side, looking at him softly.]

So I know that it's you, and you're here.

Sypha.

[He breathes out her name. It is a sigh lost to the happiness of the request, and oh, he knows better. His mother would yell at him for doing any of this, because it is too much exertion.

But who is he to deny that request? His hands move as she asks, one starting at her middle and then moving carefully down to her hip. The other, it can only go to caress her cheek. To run under her jaw, to let him tip it up just slightly so he can press kisses there.

He's here. He's here, he's here, he's here.]

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