Catch All

[cryptsleeper]

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[miraclewhip]

You're sure?

[ He looks up, turning toward Alucard. He expected this, of course he expected this, but there's still part of him that's always surprised by it. A part of him that doesn't expect kindnesses like that. A part of him that would really rather not be in debt to Dracula's son.

He tries not to think about that too much, he really does. Usually it's easier when he's actually around Alucard, to think of him as his own person, but the idea of owing him makes everything more difficult. ]

I'll- shit. I'll figure out how to pay you back sooner or later.

[cryptsleeper]

That's hardly a matter right now. Focus on the cats.

[He pauses, then lets out a very soft laugh. Nudges Trevor.]

You're the first human they'll see.

Usir au of an au in which alucard's limb loss is for reals; fic

[cryptsleeper]

01.

It’s simple. Little more than a steel approximation of bones and their articulation, held together by wires that connect to a socket that has been placed where Alucard’s shoulder once met his right arm. Everything responds as it should, but it is a bare thing. Something to be covered by a long sleeve shirt and then a coat, as the shirt makes it clear that there isn’t a real arm under there.

Alucard purchases it from a husband and wife team of goblin and satyr team in Krimnos, and only because he has a doctor’s note. The surgeon who removed the bone shards from his lungs was kind enough to write a voucher. This man and the goliath are hard workers and local to Krimnos. Hire the goliath now and the man when he’s recovered.

He doesn’t hate it, exactly, but he hates what it represents. A real, literal loss of himself, now forever drowned in the ocean. Sacrificed because of fucking dragons. His ability to wield a sword is probably gone forever. His writing looks like a child’s. The bone shards are gone, but at night Alucard swears they’re still cutting through his lungs.

The dhampir sleeps little. He helps with the book keeping in the prosthetic shop and he learns a little about how it works. Nerves run on electrical impulses. All design and articulation revolves around that simple fact. The socket connector helps to ease the transition from nerve to wiring without damage or surgery once the connector is installed. Everything else is about what is needed and what can be afforded.

05.
“Would this work?”

Alucard’s draftsmanship isn’t what it was, but it doesn’t look like a child’s scribble anymore either. He’s drawn a decent looking replacement arm from several angles, noting wiring and covers, and going so far as to add a few flourishes. It isn’t for himself, but for a tiefling who came in last week in need of a new left forearm. A tiefling with a little more money than most, and thus able to ask for a little more specialized work.

“Well, we can show him,” Oreteos says. Alucard’s gotten along with the goblin well enough over the past ten months, but on matters of design, the goblin has a preference for simplicity and letting the inner work of a piece show. He knows that the design will be rejected. There’s too many coverings. Too much pomp. (Oreteos gets along with Trevor swimmingly.) “How’s the new articulation on your wrist?”

In response, the dhampir flexes the new element in question. It wasn’t a surprise that the cheap hand broke about two weeks into having it, something that Madelega had insisted that the shop pay for rather than add to the bill of their indentured servants. Other parts have been replaced since, prolonging Treovr’s and Alucard’s stay.

“It let me draft without wasting ink due to an unsteady hand, so I think it’s good. Hopefully no more surprises.”

Oreteos nods. “Good. Client’ll be by in an hour, he can pick the design then.”

20.
Alucard’s in the middle of writing a letter when it happens. A wire moves the wrong way. The electrical impulse of it is agony, and the shriek he lets out causes the castle to shake. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong, the world is moving, and Alucard is on the floor with his hand spasming wildly. It hurts it hurts it hurts and the ground is shaking still.

(He later realizes that the ground moved because of Trevor’s rushing up the stairs.)

There’s no kind way of dealing with the matter. The arm has to be immobilized and then removed. Delicate work. Delicate work done in a castle with no doctor or engineer present and with a goliath whose skill with magic is well, minimal.

Trevor ends up having to knock Alucard out. The arm’s spasms slow. Ellis pins the arm to the ground with Dog, and the two leave Trevor to the horrible and delicate work of disconnecting the arm.

When the dhampir comes to, the arm is heavy. Wood, simple wood, with limited articulation. A dummy arm, you wear it for extended repair time if you have to as Madelega explained early on.

He swears. Take the arm off and throw him back to the pit.


32.
“Oh!”

Alucard’s face lights up. He knows Trevor hates when the dhampir uses himself as an experiment, but there’s really no other way to do this at the moment. To use magic to try and force the articulation of limbs is difficult, and there’s very few other people he can use to see what will and won’t work.

Turn left he thinks, and his wrist does as it’s told. Bend. His elbow does so.

The dhampir continues the work for an hour. The articulation requires no additional thought. Reconnected nerves, but through magic instead of wires.

He’s got it.

35.
“You made that?”

Alucard stares down at the metal work in front of him. The elbow is immaculate. It could be mistaken for a real joint if it was made of bone. The wrist is no different, nor the fingers. His left hand moves over the craftsmanship, quiet. Trembling.

Trevor makes a low noise. Looks away. “Yeah. Figured it’d be better for your magic stuff if the articulation was close to the real thing.”

“It’s remarkable,” Alucard whispers. “Help me take this arm off, I want to prove your theory right.”

40.
The theory works. It has worked flawlessly for three months. Alucard keeps refining the magic, keeps trying to improve the sense of sensation so that to feel something through the artificial hand is the same as his flesh, but fuck. It works. He keeps refining the design, keeping the articulation Trevor’s come up with, but embellishing. With no need for wires and electrics, the limb can be art.

So let it be art. He adds the sweeping geometry that dominated his home and his own preferences. All black with gold embellishments, some sweeping into more fanciful curls. It’s exacting design, but Trevor’s good at replicating everything. He’s good at this work. He’s--

--he’s perfect. He’s perfect as he helps put on the new arm, and Alucard reaches out for Trevor’s hand once the process is done. What he expects is the faint sensation of skin.

Alucard feels everything.