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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But she lives. So I understand, I just don’t care.

[ But the thought stays with him. Stays as he pours over the books. Stays as he studies his grandmothers’ list of vampires in the area for likely candidates if the worst does happen.

And then it comes to him, a combination of that thought, of the mechanics behind the necromancers’s construct and of Dracula’s work on familiars.

They’ve not spoken in a full day. He’s not sure they’ve eaten or slept, either. ]

I’ll turn you.

[He's been useless. Of course he has, he's managed to pull books, skim them, and put little scraps of paper in pages to point out useful passages. The synthesis, the understanding, that has to be Trevor because Trevor's head is in the right space for this kind of thing.

He's going through another one, familiars this time, about to put the book back on the shelf because it's useless then....

...wait.]

Beg pardon?

[His head turns. Tilts slightly, and it looks far more natural on him when he is a wolf expressing confusion.]

[ He doesn’t know whose skin binds this book. It was penned after Dracula’s exodus from Europe, so probably not a Belmont. ]

It’s a spell your father developed. It‘s- technically a form of turning. Instead of the victim becoming a vampire, they become an extension of the caster. In order to control an unwilling target, it requires unique properties of vampire blood. But for a willing one- a human probably wouldn’t be able to do it.

But a fairy might.

[Alucard walks over to where Trevor is slowly. He does not know how much of a welcome presence he is, if at all. There's no sitting down, there is only looking over Trevor's shoulder.

He considers it slowly.]

A play on the concept of a fami-- [Blood again.]

Does it allow magic to be cast by the familiar?

It does. That was the purpose it was made for, so that he, in all his power, could be everywhere in the city at once using the bodies of people no vampire would consider for more thana few seconds. It wasn’t needed once he became more respected.

[ and the awkward part- ]

You’ll need to take my blood. Given. And taken willingly and knowing the consequences.

[The logic is solid. It...it is not a bad solution, all things considered. Alucard considers it, because it allows for the need to have someone who can do magic be involved here.

But the rest...]

Is there a note regarding method? Transfusion is not safe. Our bloodtypes are not compatible and I am still half-human.

None. I doubt that the safety of familiars was ever a concern.

[ He doesn’t sigh. He doesn’t do much of anything, just stares over the book. ]

Consumption ought to work. It works for turning.

More importantly, it would pass the digestive system. I cannot begin to imagine what would become of any of us if this...

[If any other vampire found out. He knows the damage. Belmont puppet. Dracula's son, betraying his own kind in a way that none of them could have predicted but would be far worse than simply following after his mother's humanity.]

If we're discovered, we both die and the city is lost. If I turn, we are both monsters and the city is lost. If you go alone, the two of you may not return and the city is lost.

No matter what, this way ends with her alive. I don't give a shit about the rest.

On that last point, we are in total agreement.

[Alucard's eyes go to the door, and from deep in his belly, a long and stressed sigh works it's way out.]

We will need to test this first. How important is volume?

It depends on the distance. A few drops, to test while we’re both in the castle. More, to maintain a connection once you leave.

[ And there may be complications, but none of them are close to being things he can bring himself to care about now. Usually he’d be more uncertain about a connection like this, about the potential for shared dreams, about the risks of shared injury-

He doesn’t care. ]

Let us prove the theory to begin with.

[Has Alucard mentioned that he hates this? He hates this. He curses the concept as he exits the library, knowing full well that the easiest way to conduct this experiment is to find a syringe and enough test tubes to make this a purely clinical matter. To disassociate the blood from the man it is coming from, to pretend that this isn't compromising on principles that he takes such pride in upholding.

When Alucard returns, it is with a set of test tubes and a holder clutched to his chest, a small case tucked under his other arm along with a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Clinical he reminds himself, and he looks to Trevor.]

Where will it be best to draw from?

For the test? Anywhere ought to be fine. If it works and we need more, I’ll draw the blood myself.

[ Which is to say that for the quantity they’re likely to needs, thich would be best. But also that he’s not feeling boyfriendish enough to take off his trousers at Alucard. He offers his hand. ]

Prick.

[ His tone is neutral and even enought that that’s probably permission to draw blood, rather than an insult. ]

[And here Alucard's just contemplating the wisdom of stabbing Trevor's dick.

There's a moment where Alucard takes the hand, then tsks because it isn't actually that simple. He instead rolls up Trevor's sleeve, and puts to fingers to the crook of Trevor's elbow. There. That's better. Won't be a problem either.

The rubbing alcohol comes next, applied carefully to the skin and then to the syringe. What Alucard takes out is terribly minimal. A few millimeters, and when he's satisfied with volume, he puts the syringe aside. The site is bandaged, and then Alucard walks the syringe over to where he's placed the test tube and the holder it is in.

His back is to Trevor. View obscured, and that's very much on purpose. They've seen him consume at parties because he's had to, there's an entire blood drawer in the fridge, but in the house, Alucard takes all the care to be as human as he can be. So he makes sure that Trevor can't see him drink the blood, and when he turns back around, there's only a faint look of disgust on Alucard's face.]

How does this connection manifest itself in the one being controlled?

[ He doesn’t care.

He actually doesn’t care, and under normal circumstances the only thing he would care about is Alucard’s discomfort. ]

The fuck should I know? Your father didn’t give a shit about what it did to people, only that it worked. We find out now, and if you don’t like it then you get to choose whether you like this or me having fangs less.

[ He’ll regret saying that, later. Regret it so much. Regret saying that whatever comes of this, Alucard deserves it because it’s no more than his father did to others. Regret a lot of things he’s said this week, because there’s anger in them even if he can’t manage more than a neutral tone. For now, though, he’s drawing circles. ]

This is your idea, forgive me if I thought you'd have an inkling of an idea on the topic. It isn't as if I'm putting my entire sense of self in your hands to control.

[Alucard's back to spitting and hissing anger. It's too easy to come by in this moment. He knows what it sounds like, knows who it sounds like, and they're back where they've started. His father's long fucking shadow and the two of them too scarred by loss to deal with things rationally.]

No taste for it when it isn’t you making choices for me?

[ Another thing he’ll regret saying. He knows what a low blow that is when aimed at Alucard. Knows that ‘don’t die or turn’ isn’t a particularly restrictive or unreasonable set of demands. Doesn’t care.

And the voice comes from Trevor’s lips, but it’s also coming from inside Alucard’s head. Trevor it still writing down his spell, drawing circles and runes out desperately as Alucard approaches his table, placing his palms flat against it.

And Alucard does, in fact, do this. ]

For the love of...

[He stops because the double voice of Trevor throws Alucard for a terrible loop. His stomach churns (blood calls to blood), and he has to steady himself after realizing that it's just the magic working.

Then his hands move without Alucard's say so, and when he swears it betrays exactly how raw he feels in this moment. They're fighting over the worst of his father's legacy, Sypha's status is unknown, they're arguing about turning on the back burner, and Alucard's moving without his own say so.

It's this or turning. That's the only thought he repeats in his head. Lets it become a mantra.]

[ He can only write one thing at a time, and that’s the only thing keeping him from making notes. Even though he can feel just what this is doing to Alucard, how terrifying it is to have ones body move without telling it to, even though it would be so terribly distateful to do it right now. This is fascinating. He is limited in the spells he can cast by his own inability to form intent, but Alucard is not (and there is maybe a little horror on his part, that he thinks he can use this spell to force him to form intent). There is so much, so much that he could do suddenly, if he only does so through Alucard.

He keeps writing the spell, testing motor control, making each of Alucard’s fingers move in turn. When he finally stops for a moment, he closes his eyes and looks at the room through Alucard’s instead. It’s a slightly higher vantage point, and that’s odd in a way that none of the rest of this feels for some reason. While he isn’t writing, Alucard’s body is his own again. ]

This will work. [ He says, the anger forgotten for the moment and replaced by absolute certainty. His control is gone, while he isn’t writing, but his words are still audible from both inside and outside of Alucard’s mind. ] I’ll be able to find her like this, I’m sure of it. I just need to cast the spell through you.

[Trevor writes. Trevor writes and focuses and Alucard repeats his mantra. It begins fast and terrified but by the time motor control begins to be tested, Alucard has found some kind of equilibrium within himself to not panic about his fingers moving by another's control.

(They really do have to save her or die. He can't imagine his father's reaction to this moment.)

Breathing is still under Alucard's sway though, and he focuses on controlling only that. An automatic function, nothing of intent mixed up with it.

Then Trevor speaks again, and Alucard holds up a hand in the universal wait a second gesture.]

I cannot have you both speaking in my head and out loud. Let me go else where, we can test basic spell casting.

Go to the room we’re using for my tracking spells, then.

[ And he hands Alucard the focus (that is to say, the thin layer of Alucard’s own skin, in a jar. The irony here, that the book he found this spell in was bound in the skin of a human, is not lost on him. A jar of ash follows it. ]

Fuck basic spellcasting, I can find her. And that’ll be as good a test as any.

[There's a tense retort that stays on Alucard's tongue. Happily he doesn't snap back, because there's still a part of him that recongizes this tension is because of how they react to the same situation. Trevor's too workman, too Belmont, too trained for this. Alucard's nothing but a spoiled fucking princeling who runs far too hot.

He takes the jar, not looking at it. Refusing to register it. The ash is easier.]

It should assist in examining distance as well then.

[There. There, he'll latch onto that, and he'll leave the room. It's his legs moving him to the room used for tracking, and there's two thuds on the table in that room once Alucard enters. One jar on each side. Alucard's palms resting flat on the table, trying to work out the coil of tension that has replaced his spine.]

[ He’s not been able to focus it down himself. The spell that was uesd on Alucard has been cast all over the city, and he can’t differentiate a place that it’s been used from the place that it originates. Checking each place induvidually isn’t an option - they’ll be spotted, the necromancer will know how he’s being tracked, and he’ll move Sypha somewhere else. But Alucard can. If Trevor is a font of magic, Alucard is a font of determination. All of the sheer intent that Trevor can’t muster himself.

Alucard’s hands take a brush and ink from the table in the room, finding an empty sheer of paper and drawing out that rough, ugly map of the city. No runes this time, not on Alucard’s version of the map. The spell itself is all on Trevor’s end. Alucard’s hands simply take the skin from one jar, emptying the ashes upon it. And then pour them from the skin onto the paper map. The ashes gather first at the morgue where they faced the construct, and then form the shapes of tiny hands attached to long, wispy arms moving across the city like snakes.

They meet, eventually, hands joining and coiling into each other until they just form a pile of ash. Alucard’s hands finish putting away the skin and take the brush again, circling the point that they marked. ]

Found her.

[There are a number of disconcerting things about this experience that Alucard will later list as his least favorite aspects of the spell. Touching his own skin that is in a jar does rank highly up there, but the act of drawing the map, of making the magic happen, that's worse.

He's watching from a back seat from somewhere inside of himself. Alucard is present, but there's another power that has elbowed it's way to the forefront. It has a Trevor like shape, all wide chested and smelling of natural musk mixed with alcohol and the faintest hint of something older, and it has a Trevor like manner. It marches in and gets itself down to work, using whatever it can to complete the task. The aura it exudes though, that isn't a natural Trevor thing. It's not calming, not exactly, but it isn't the thing from the circus tent either.

His eyes drink in the ugly map, the way the ashes comb through the city, and then he swears.]

Residential area, high traffic. Everything is built close together though, it's an older part of town so there are...[he hisses softly] more shadows cast in the area due to density.

[ The faint ‘then we set the fucking place on fire, no more fucking shadows’ that Alucard hears is probably not a deliberate vocalisation, because Trevor is saying something completely different. ]

I can deal with shadows. Let me test-

[ Let him see what more he can do with Alucard’s intent. No weapons to hand, so he just uses the brush instead, Alucard’s hands picking it up and clasping around the handle of it. Immediately the ink that it was dipped in begins to glow, as if the brush were used for painting with starlight. ]

-not ideal, compared to no fucking shadows at all. Combined with Belmont shit on the sword, it might be enough.

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