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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[ He laughs, because- he would have. More than yelled. He'd have assumed they were some trick. We wouldn't have been able to remember them, if they'd proved themselves not to be who he thought they were by doing that. ]

I'd have been right to, and you know it. How shitty is it getting?

[ Enough, he knows, that just a trickle of blood is difficult for him. ]

[That laugh is everything. Alucard's face finally twitches upwards, a near smile there. Just for a moment. Just at that glorious sound. (He'll hear it again. He just wanted to hear it here.)

Trevor's question is sobering though, and Alucard's expression fades away into something much more somber.]

I can manage until I am 14 days out. Then...[The noise he makes isn't a laugh.] Doesn't matter. I can't take from anything here, faerie blood is why any of us are in this mess to begin with.

A fortnight.

[ Ten days' food gone. That's anywhere between eight and twelve days. Likely to be higher, knowing what he does of the two of them. Then another day at least here, as best as he can manage to count by the healing of his lip and Alucard's silver burns. The meal that was provided to welcome their guests, too, that must have taken at least a half day. ]

Mmn.

[ He pushes Alucard slightly, trying to sit up. ]

[Alucard rolls off of Trevor, but he doesn't like it. All he wants is to keep being wrapped around him. Dhampir armor that can take whatever the fae try, because even with silver, he'll endure whatever he can to make sure Trevor doesn't fully become theirs. It's selfish and spoiled and a princeling in every sense of the insult.

He really doesn't care.

Once sat up, Alucard still has to rearrange the pillows and blankets and all the soft things underneath him. Maximum coverage. Maximum protection.]

[ He pushes himself up, blinking at his beautiful, disorienting surroundings. Long strings of glass beads hang from the high ceiling of the cage, where all of those vines braid together, sending tiny, colourful reflections moving across everything. And then careful, careful not to pull any of the blankets and furs out from under Alucard, he moves closer.

His weight has probably always been near nothing to Alucard. But now, as he leans against him, that is more than ever, as if his bones were hollow like a bird's. He reaches a hand out to lace his fingers with Alucard's. ]

What happens, after fourteen days?

Nothing good. [He sighs, the discussion about to veer into uncomfortable territory. Words that will contrast with the opulence of what's around them, harsh and bloodied among the chimes that sound when a soft summer breeze catches the things that dangle from the not-a-ceiling.

Trevor's too light. He tries not to think about that, because there's only two reasons for it to be as such. He's starved or his entire make up has changed. Deep inside, Alucard knows damn well it's the latter, and he hates it.]

Your family records would have probably defined it as blood lust or something equally feral sounding. It's driven by hunger, means the first warm and full of blood thing you see sends you into a fury until you've taken what you need.

[It'd be dangerous here. More than that, it would violate any pretense at hospitality because Dracula's son committed a grave offense.

Faux hospitality has been learned, of course. That was what defined being regent, holding it all together and being noble and obliging while wanting to just screech and throw everyone around. To be on the receiving end of it was a novelty, but it also meant Alucard and Sypha could read the intentions of every action. It was an advantage. It was an advantage as they had stood together after all three trials, Sypha putting herself forward and demanding control of the situation. Alucard was good for the weight of his heritage and for being beside her, tall and silent and deadly. Another novel situation, their roles reversed.

Alucard leans forward, the things overhead catching the gold of his hair and casting new colors into it. His forehead rests on Trevor's shoulder, and the hand Trevor holds rests upon Trevor's thigh softly.]

She'll come through before then.

Drink.

[ It's so simple. Spoken without hesitation. He'd been turning the thought open in his head since his return to lucidity. ]

I'm still a warm and full of blood thing.

[There's a noise from the vampire that sounds like he's about to launch into an argument. He is, there's just a million open gambits right now and he has to pick one. The light thing on his lap that is still Trevor Belmont is the argument against it he picks, but there isn't any anger in his words.

Instead there's something more concerned.]

I'm not sure your blood qualifies as human at this point.

[It's a risk. And still why they're here to begin with.]

[ He laughs. Look, he got (what he considers to be) a somewhat dark joke out of the vampire. If nothing else, that's a victory. ]

Well then, exciting opportunity for you. [ His voice goes from amused to warm. ] You're not Bluebeard. You won't turn me.

[ He demanded to be turned once, didn't he? Knowing that he would become one of the baobhan sith. Just that desperate. ]

[Except it's not funny if the worry is valid, Belmont. But to know that the reason for the concern and refusal is obvious and known is...that's something else.

(There's something else here to wonder. If turning counts as claiming, and if that could be another argument they could rely on if everything is that horrid and desperate. It was out of the question, of course, but Sypha has been so terribly long with no updates.)

Alucard doesn't move. He only squeezes Trevor's hand tighter.]

It'd buy her time.

[That sounds like he's just trying to convince himself.]

You don't have to justify it. This is me being a selfish piece of shit.

[ He slips his hand out from Alucard's, resting it on top of it instead. ]

I trust her, but- if they pull some shit. If I have to go even after all of this. I don't want the last I see of you to be you barely holding yourself back from ripping open something's throat.

[ ...not that that's an unlikely outcome if 'diplomacy' fails, hunger or not. But he'd like to at least pretend that there's a chance that this can still not end with Dracula's son starting a war between America's vampires and Europe's fairies. ]

Give me your claws. Unless you're a less shitty vampire than I thought and you can actually handle the biting thing.

[Alucard being the source of a potential problem is an absolutely valid concern and the vampire would not be shocked if that was a discussion had behind his back. He likes to think that he has been nothing but perfect thus far, quiet and doing nothing more than existing within a space that does not want him there. Everything is in a holding pattern though, control could slip.

(He's not Trevor, but Sypha made Alucard promise not to do anything stupid in the face of failure.)

Then he tracks what Trevor's really saying. Alucard's head picks up, and there's an uncertain expression. Eyebrows narrowed, the rest of him still, thin frown on his lips.]

You'd invoke that spell?

[That fucking thing. The thing for the worst emergencies which...okay, the moment would qualify.]

I'd rather you just see me off as yourself. But if I have to, yes. Until the two of you are too far away to do any stupid shit.

And- [ well. He may as well ask permission for it now. ]

-And if I don't have to use it then, then later. Once all of this is done, and I've forgotten everything. Only for a moment, at the last possible moment, so I can look at her and hear you and remember again.

Edited (how did those small tags happen) 2019-02-10 22:03 (UTC)

[The vampire's still. The vampire's not clinging to the Belmont but it's starting to become that. The vampire's aware of defeat far more now than at any point in all of this. Getting here, suffering the trials, even suffering the fae court, it was still a way to ignore the passage of time. Even before being in Faerie they had been cautious to not treat this as anything but something that could be overcome. The confidence game, faking it until they made it.

This is poking holes into that game, into that lie of triumph that helps power through the fear. Alucard knows he'll teeter on the edge of control if he fails. (Sypha can't hold him back. He can't ask that of her, to shoulder his feelings along with hers.)

He can't say no to any of this. It's a last request if there ever was one, and when Alucard speaks again, his voice is barely audible. He's not looking at Trevor though, not yet.]

Okay.

Claws, or teeth?

[ He strokes the back of Alucard's hand, looking- regretful, maybe. A little. ]

No better options, I'm afraid. Can't do harm to myself, you know how this shit goes.

You're ignoring the question of where, you know.

[That defines which method for the vampire.

[ He turns over his hand. His right. ]

You fucked it up when we first met, right? May as well bring this shit full circle.

Other one. In case...

[In case they get halfway through this and need Trevor to fight just as much as the other two.]

Appreciate that you think I'll be any use at all in any 'in case' sort of situation.

[ He won't. He's already rendered nonviolent. They end up fighting fairies, the best he can do is plug his ears so he can't hear any further orders. He takes his right hand away from Alucard's anyway, replacing it with his left. ]

But you're humouring me, so I may as well return the favour.

It's our intent. So it will be.

[That's as much magic as Alucard's ever had, that of intent. He's used it stupidly and recklessly before, and this situation demands it be applied like a surgeon's scalpel. But intent can power him through for now.

There's a thumb rubbing a soft circle on the pulse point now. Hardly on purpose, but it's a heads up all the same.]

You need to tell me the minute it gets uncomfortable. Yank my hair. Hard.

[ The skin is delicate. Moth's wings truly is an accurate sort of way to describe it , all soft, microscopically tiny, slightly iridescent scales. He relaxes, still more than he was relaxed before, smiling. ]

You couldn't maybe pick a signal that I won't be doing in happier circumstances, once we're out of here?

Punch my shoulder then. And have fabric in your hand the minute I pull away.

[Once we're out of here. Those are good words to hear. Alucard lingers on those as he decides how best to do this. Trevor's hand may be in his, but the question of how much the Belmont is comfortable with seeing any of this lingers in the air.

With Trevor on his lap, he can only bend so far before he's at risk of dislodging the Belmont. He goes as far as he can, and the hand is brought up the rest of the way. Carefully turned over, aware of how thin and delicate the skin is. Alucard thinks not of things with wings, but of slide samples from his mother's medical work, all paper thin slices of organ and tissue that lets light pass through it for easier examination.

He bites, teeth sinking into flesh and finding vein. It's careful and measured, even if the part of him that is hunger demands he move it along. That part of him springs forward as blood flows, demanding he take, take, take for the love of whatever god's out there. Starving doesn't help anyone.

Alucard is careful though. The hand not supporting Trevor's taps out a careful beat, and what that really is is a way to measure how much he's taken. Under normal circumstances, he would consider a pint acceptable. This is not normal circumstances. They need Trevor to be able to move or fight or do just about anything. It has to be half a pint.

It'll cover five days. More than enough.]

[ It's a little like everything else here, a little pain leaving him tired and light-headed with everything at the eyes of his vision a little softer. But it's also Alucard, and so in all of that there's nothing to be afraid of. Selfishly, he almost wishes Alucard would allow himself to ask this of him normally. He hasn't been afraid in a long time, and there's something comforting about knowing in such a real, literal way that he's part of the second most precious thing on the earth.

But he already asks so much. Like Sypha and the gun, it's maybe one step too far. And that had been necessary.

(His blood is human, but too sweet. All figs and honey and wine, sunlight and stained glass, brightly coloured silks floating in summer breezes. But his ownership is still in dispute. No matter how much he tastes of this place, until it's decided one way or the other, he doesn't count as fairy food. There's magic in it, practically singing in Alucard's head, but so little that he can actually do with it.)

He takes one of the silks, a sturdy-feeling one, one that isn't vital to the layer of soft cloth between Alucard and the silver floor. ]

Adrian. [ He squeezes Alucard's shoulder softly. He'll punch if he has to, but he's fairly certain that this'll be enough. ]

[Alucard is already pulling away when his name is uttered. He's taken enough, he knows exactly how much. His mouth pulls away, and Alucard is very careful not to dribble. He's an adult vampire for Christ's sake, he knows how to not dribble.

More than that, he knows how to deal with this next part. Before even motioning for the fabric he has his hand applying pressure to the bite, firm and aware that it will take several minutes to stop the blood flow. He learned this kind of thing from his father who insisted that it be learned. There would be days where blood could not come in bags and he would not have his son starve for want of knowledge.

His free hand wipes away the little bit of blood on his lips, and Alucard's tongue runs over his teeth to clean off anything that still clings. The matter of taste didn't enter his mind as he latched to Trevor's wrist, mostly because hunger wasn't the same as taste. Now though, now he picks up on the nuances. Those kinds of things are always there to those who care to consider it, revelations about diet and health and all of that, and what is truly within Trevor is a debate over what defines Trevor Belmont? The sweetness is too cloying, the rest normal human blood all iron and Alucard's own cooking. He knows which one he prefers, which is a thought he will never speak out loud.

Alucard lifts his head up slowly. The magic in the blood requires some kind of equilibrium to be found, and that means careful movements. As he does so, the sweep of golden hair gets in the way, and he has to brush it back. There's no look of satisfaction on his face as he turns to Trevor, there's the slightest look of relief, coupled with ruddier cheeks.]

Cloth, please.

Here.

[ He has to take his hand from Alucard's shoulder to do it (he doesn't really want to. The contact feels correct for this situation) but he hands the cloth over. Hands it over and returns his hand to Alucard's shoulder.

The relief is enough. More than enough. It's not guilt, or regret, or anything like those. It's positive, even. That's more than he could have hoped. ]

Thanks. For humouring me.

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