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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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.]

[He's here. He's here, here, here, and so is she, it's a mattress beneath her and not an oiled wooden floor, blankets and not evil magic, Alucard's hands on her instead of a manacle on her ankle. He's here, the brush of his hair on her skin, his fingertips tracing circles against her, his lips pressing kisses to her cheek.

He's here. He's here, he's here, and she's home. She's not missing any longer. She's safe, she's not lost, she's not dead like the other Speakers who'd laid atop that same sigil and wasted away, sapped of everything they had and then ripped to pieces for the rest, scared and alone and separated from the people they loved.

The people who love her are here. Alucard is here. Trevor is here.

A breath hitches in her chest, chokes up to the back of her throat, and all of a sudden she's crying and she doesn't want to be but she is, and there's no helping it.]

[When they are beyond this, when the physical part of recovery is complete, Alucard will sit and vow the necromancer's destruction with too much of his father's anger in those words. He will acknowledge that fact, put his trust in Trevor to prevent the worst of it from surfacing, and this matter will be seen to once and for all. The man will be, in the end, Sypha's to do as she sees fit, but he will do everything in his power to make it possible.

For now the only requirement of what he must be is all that Sypha demands of him. Himself. Present and attentive and now kissing the flow of tears from her eyes, ignoring the taste of salt and just letting his presence be known. It won't make them stop, they need to come out in one go for Sypha's own well being.

He can't offer the right words. Alucard is not a Speaker, he never will be. Action, action is all he is good at and that means making it clear how stupidly devoted the vampire is.]

[At first, her weeping comes soft and silent, the sort of crying that they could both pretend wasn't really happening, were it not for the taste of salt on his lips when he continues to kiss her cheek despite them. Then, gradually, it escalates, moving down from her eyes and into her throat, shuddering breaths that drag whimpers from her lungs, that gather up all of the pain and the fear and the misery of the past week and force it out of her, trembling the whole way down.

She hadn't cried, not once, when she was taken. She'd barely even made a sound, and he'd mocked her for that — a silent Speaker, cat got your tongue, little bird? — but now she is home and her words have been given back to her, and it's finally safe to cry because Alucard is here, she can reel from the horror and let it make her as sick as it deserves to, and she's safe because Alucard is here.

Eventually, the crying turns into sobbing — full-throated, heaving, ugly things, and when that happens she musters up all her strength and rolls into him until she's able to bury her face against his chest, head tucked beneath his chin, and let him surround her. Crying like that, she knows she must be near the end of the emotion that's prompted it. Now it's just a matter of letting it all out, and knowing that Alucard's hands will continue to hold her together even as she threatens to fall to pieces, just for this little while.]

[There is a point where all of Sypha's tears become impossible to kiss away. There are too many, and she shudders and the real pain is let out.

His arms are still around her as the first sob shudders. His face is buried into the top of her head, kisses pressed into wherever he can reach. Alucard remembers when things were reversed, when he sobbed himself hoarse from grief and she moved her hands over him, warming and soft and reassuring, powered by her intent not to simply keep him warm, but keep him tethered.

He does not think of payback or fair exchange, but he thinks of those moments all the same, his hands cooler, his embrace pressing her as close to him as possible. She will likely sleep after this, all spent from exertion, and then he'll hold her fast for a few hours more. Trevor will join them because that's how these moments always go.

Alucard rubs her back at some point, traces gentle and calming circles, doesn't dare do anything else.]

Don't let go of me.

[It's such a horrible thing to say to him, she realizes belatedly. It's such an awful thing, when so much of his guilt is wrapped up in precisely that, in trying to hold on to her and failing and hurting her on top of it. Now he'll be thinking of it, now he'll be reliving it, maybe, and yet she couldn't stop if she tried, couldn't make herself keep from curling her fingers into his shirt and pressing up flush against him if she tried.

She's not alone. Every understanding of safety and family and purpose that she has comes linked to the state of being connected with others; every fear has its roots in isolation. Alucard is with her, holding her, and she needs that more than anything. He loves her, and she needs the sort of love that only he can offer, the possessive snarling love that keeps her so close that she couldn't possibly dream of believing that she's alone.]

Say my name. Say something, anything. Be real. Be here, so I can't forget.

[Don't let go of me she says and he doesn't. Sypha is flush against him, close as they can be without venturing into more physical embraces. Don't let go of me she says and his arms are as tight as he feels is safe. Don't let go of me and Alucard finds it the easiest thing in the world to set aside the guilt he has for putting those terrible clawmarks on her arms because Sypha has asked this of him and he cannot deny her anything. Not that it wasn't true before, but now, now it has a new and greater urgency.

But she asks for words, and for a few moments, the only thing he can say is her name. Sighed with every breath, the intonation still so scared, still so relieved at her presence, still so caught up it is as if he is reliving the moment of finding her again and again and again and again and.

It is unfair to force that thoughts upon her. So Alucard tries so hard to say something. Anything.]

I'm not one of your people, I could never say the right words. Compose an aretalogy of all your deeds and have it read correctly, with epitaphs that suit you and only you. Call you the right things that become story, become legend, because that's how this ends for you after a very, very long life. [Nothing ends here.] I can say you're the only fire I'll hold so tightly and maybe that's all I can manage in a poetic enough way. Everything else falls away and forces me silent because you are beyond every word I could hope to even think of afixing to you.

[He breathes out, repeating her name again.]

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