cryptsleeper | Catch All

[Adrian's removed the jacket, at least. If that's as comfortable as he's willing to get at the moment, Trevor won't question it (tempting though it is to suggest the leggings again), and he won't allow Adrian to remain so lonely there on the couch either. The jacket was nice while it lasted, as was the bowtie, but Trevor makes quick work of them both, drapes them over the coffee table and toes his shoes off before flopping down beside Adrian.

Trevor has a tendency to do that. Flop. It's indelicate at best, but Adrian's never complained, so--

The current sprawl finds him cradled in the corner of the couch, looking every bit a big inviting pillow for Adrian to climb over. Though all the actual invitation he gets is an extended hand and a vague beckoning motion of Trevor's fingers.]

Come here.

[Dhampirs don't need invitations to enter homes. But they do need invitations to be on other people's laps, and so Trevor's gestures forward sends the vampire right over to settle in against him.

And here, Alucard can actually do what he wanted to in the cab. His face is pressed into Trevor's chest, oh yes, but the rest of him simply curls up on Trevor's lap, trying to be as small as possible to fit in the space. It takes a lot of effort, but oh, he manages to tuck his knees in, make himself so very small, and simply be.

His arms wrap around Trevor's middle, squeezing gently. And here? Now? With music playing and the lights dimmed?

This is perfection.

The sigh that follows is the vampire at his happiest. Most spoiled. His best, and everything about him just feels aglow with affection and adoration for the Belmont. With Alucard's face mushed into Trevor's chest, he can't hear or even see the dhampir mouthing the words I love you against his shirt fabric, but Alucard does it all the same.]

[Trevor will take this. Really and truly, he'll bear it without complaint. Adrian spoils them, and so he deserves to be spoiled, particularly when his spoiling involves something as simple as curling up on the couch with-- Hell, is this smooth jazz? Trevor doesn't know, but...

It's soothing, and Adrian's weight on his chest is comforting, even if he takes forever to curl himself up into the tightest ball possible, and Trevor doesn't understand how in God's name that could be comfortable. And damn his hair, Trevor's gone a few hours too long without a strand to stroke. It's slow going with one hand, but he manages after some careful maneuvering, loosens the tie around the bun, leaves the braids, and gingerly combs his fingers through the veritable cornsilk that tumbles across Adrian's back.

That's better; sinking a hand through and down Adrian's hair, everything is infinitely better. And just in case the dhampir has any ideas about escape, Trevor drapes his other arm securely around Adrian's shoulders. Holding may be the wrong word; cradling seems more accurate, particularly considering how Trevor shifts his legs to settle Adrian more comfortably between them.

It could turn salacious. Would, if Trevor weren't reminding himself that this is enough. Though, surprisingly, it is. He could drift off to sleep like this, stay here all night, wrapped around Adrian and shockingly content. Because this...

Monsters are verifiable; Trevor's seen and slain hundreds of them. Angels? Miracles? Those, he's yet to meet. So for all that Trevor's been raised in the light of the Lord, he's never been sure of the notion of Heaven. But laying here, trapped beneath Adrian's weight, lost in his softness and his scent-- This is the closest to Heaven he's ever felt.]

For the love of--

[Alucard knows Bucharest's catacombs and sewers only because he is required to. They all threatened to connect to his crypt at one point when he was first building it, and none were allowed to simply waltz into his place of rest.

It has it's advantages though, like here and now. Alucard carries a torch in one hand, the cane that hides his sword in the other. The section he is in is medieval, and he knows it not from the stonework or the rare date chiseled into the building blocks, but by the smell as it hits is all too sensitive nose. The eras here all have their own scent, sometimes musty, sometimes bloodied, all stale and choking because there is so little fresh air in these places.

All the better for the night hoards that have begun to creep out and attack the citizens of the city. They're forged things, that much Trevor confirmed a few weeks ago based on their horrible eyes and their movements, the way white bone shows in the gas lights of the city. Where the forger resides has yet to be answered, and in truth, it hasn't been the priority. Avoiding nightly attacks has been.

"There's probably a nest somewhere" was how this all started, because Sypha was a keen mind who understood these things. Trevor had agreed based on experience, and so the two had made a list while Alucard listened, nodding along quietly but not contributing to the conversation beyond that. He knew, because in his heart he always knew, that his father was connected to all of this somehow. He simply wasn't sure of the specifics.

In between the conversation and Alucard entering the catacombs, Sypha's people had called her away for another emergency that her magic was required for, Alucard had received poor news of allies up in the mountains, and two people had died in attacks from the night creatures in spite of Alucard and Trevor's best efforts.

No wonder he was stupid and angry enough to go to the catacombs alone. No wonder Alucard knew he'd do the same thing if he wasn't the one out searching for Trevor.

He sighs as he turns a corner, yet again failing to find Trevor.]

I swear, I've walked the entire city already.

[Petrichor. Trevor had been trying -- and failing -- for the past quarter-hour to settle upon a name for the catacombs' odor. Musty didn't quite fit the bill, not rot or stench; it was neither dry nor entirely unpleasant, and it only seemed to bloom into sweetness the deeper he delved underground. Earthy was a closer term, damp, yes-- If he could only place its familiarity, he was certain it would yield some clue as to his quarry, their whereabouts, some damn thing...

Fresh, wet earth. There it was. There was the fixation sated, only to be joined by an entirely new obsession, because the catacombs are all bone and stone, for God's sake. And they're hardly water-tight, but dirt simply wasn't a thing he expected to sniff out this far beneath ground. At least, not so consistently. So, if he followed the scent (which was out of place), then it stood to reason that he would find something else out of place as well.

...out of place, like the very distinct perfume that soon joined the petrichor. It was faint, but Trevor knew it well; gladly surrounded himself with it as well and often as possible. They must have just missed each other, but Adrian was nearby. And so, Trevor waited; five, maybe ten minutes more, until Adrian mumbles his way around the corner were Trevor now stands, arms crossed and leaning against a bit of crumbling stone outcropping.

As always, his smirk is maddening.]

And here I've been, convinced that vampires could fly, while my lover chooses to eschew the more batly modes of transport for lowly foot travel. The fool I've been.

Whereas I have spent half the day wandering these catacombs trying to determine if you got too far over your head and were dragged...wherever these things decide to take those who they don't kill on sight.

[If Alucard didn't have the torch, he would have had an easier time of playing find the Belmont. As a wolf, he can track scents much easier, and Trevor's natural musk is already distinct - never mind even more pungent when Alucard has no trace of a human form.

He adjusts the height of the light that is carried, better to illuminate Trevor's face. (A part of Alucard wants to be sure that it is entirely Trevor. The smell checks out, which is hard to copy, but it is still safer to be certain.) There's a orange-yellow glow that is cast further down the catacombs, and has the side effect of over-exaggerating Trevor's smirk.]

Don't look so pleased with yourself either, I'm furious you went at this alone.

[His voice doesn't suggest fury, but that is because technically? They're in public, and that demands decorum.]

[Truthfully, Adrian should be accustomed to this by now. This isn't Trevor's first half-cocked gutter expedition and it's likely not the last. He knows. He knows and yet he's none the wiser for it, apparently.]

I left around midday. Had you been awake...

[Trevor gestures vaguely around the catacombs, as if that were the simplest explanation. As if he weren't well aware of the fact that Adrian would fly into a rightful panic when he woke to an empty manor. Trevor had intended to be back before nightfall, but he hadn't accounted for his own tendency to get carried away with the matter at hand.]

But you're here now. Serendipitous; as it turns out, I may have just found us a lead.

[Trevor motions for Adrian to follow, and -- one could question the wisdom of his chosen fashion for this particular task, but -- his half-cloak billows as he rounds the corner he'd been waiting at. He leads the way down the next winding passage, which brings them to a neglected iron gate barring the next bit of their journey.]

Did you catch that odor when you got down here? It seemed out of place, so I've been following it most of the afternoon. And now... this. If you care to notice--

[Trevor pauses to gesture at the lock: new and well-oiled against the relative rust and decay on the rest of the gate.]

How much would you like to wager on our quarry being down there?

Had you woken me! [The snap back is heated, disapproving and furious. Yes, Trevor simply does this. It is a part of being Trevor Belmont. But worrying about the other two is a part of being Alucard, and so some things will always be at odds.

But he shuts up all the same when Trevor mentions having a lead, and he listens. As much as he hates Trevor's horrible, stupid, risky work habits, he won't deny that there is success in them from time to time. He follows after Trevor, still holding the light, tension radiating off him.]

Now that you mention it--

[Alucard sniffs at the air, catching it. There's an easier way to track the scent, but he needs everything put down and aside in order to be a wolf. It'd be more surefire than relying on his human nose.]

I wouldn't bet against it. Likewise, I wouldn't go about opening that lock without at least going home and writing a note to Sypha to let her know where we've gone on the off chance we are still away when she returns.

[It is a deeply paranoid thing to say, because Sypha will be gone for a week yet. All the same, it's wrong not to prepare for something going well and truly wrong.]

Take the torch and cane, let me see if I can pick up any nuances on the scent.

And just like that, I'm his errand boy.

[Protest or no, Trevor does as he's asked, and takes Adrian's torch and cane in hand.

It's not as if Adrian hasn't changed in front of Trevor before, but it would be as fascinating the hundredth time as it had been the first. It's something visceral, grips icy at his heart and steals his breath, despite the knowledge that Adrian would never harm him. It's his upbringing again, Trevor's sure; he can't keep blaming the Belmont legacy, but some small part of him is still wary of the dhampir. Likely the same part of him that still barters with frightened animals, and consequently, a part he patently refuses to acknowledge.

So it's better to look away. Politely, for want of Adrian's modesty and nothing more.]

Sypha will be gone another few days at least, in any case. You needn't mother-hen her to death when she's not even here.

She'll have our heads off and you know it.

[It's said with a defensive grumble as Alucard hands over all of the things in his hands. He'd honestly not worry about the cane, but it's the torch that is the problem. Fire, even fire where there is mostly stone, is no one's friend.

He takes only a moment to transform, no longer a well dressed gentleman with too much black (it makes society assume he is in mourning and it is not an incorrect thing) to a giant white wolf. There's a soft whine to let Trevor know that he can look again, and then Alucard's nose gets to work.

In this form, yes, he can smell the earthliness that is out of place, but there is more nuance to it. A hint of something wetter (rivers?), something saltier (that implies time at sea or in salt mines), and a little bit of copper (blood.) But more than that, the petrichor is not singular. There's more than one person walking these catacombs with that scent, and that gets a soft huff.

Alucard pokes his nose through the bars of the iron gate. It isn't just to smell more: it is to determine if there are magical wards present as well.]

[Trevor heaves a long-suffering sigh, torch and cane both aloft in one hand as he leans back against the stone jamb. Adrian is, as usual, infuriatingly correct; Sypha would have their heads plattered if they slunk off to the catacombs with no word. It's doing Adrian and Trevor a bit of a disservice, by Trevor's estimation. They can certainly take care of themselves, but--

Well, best not to keep their lady waiting and fretting, on the off-chance she does return early.

Trevor glances down -- though not overly much -- to Adrian. The creature is massive, equal parts intimidating and charming, particularly while he's struggling to shove his snout through the bars. Trevor entertains nigh-suicidal notions on a daily basis (more frequently, if one asked Adrian or Sypha's opinion on the matter), but none are more deadly than the tactless public affection he tends to visit upon Adrian.

Caution to the wind, Trevor pulls off one glove, and reaches down to sink his fingers through the fur between Adrian's ears. His nails are blunt, but he scratches idly at the base of the wolf's skull, and he's certain that's not making it easy for Adrian to focus. But he's nearly as certain that Adrian's enjoying it nevertheless.]

Would you mind a collar terribly? [Trevor smirks.] Could we even find one to fit this mane of yours?

[It is very hard to work with Trevor giving him pets in the very best spot. There's a tail wag that is entirely involuntary, along with a soft, content snort. In this form, Alucard is very warm and his emotions are far easier to read than when he is a person.

Thankfully, the moment of satisfaction is ruined by Trevor being an ass. The giant wolf head turns, and a little growl of disapproval comes with it. He can work and be pet at the same time, but he can't be distracted by someone being...okay, someone just being Trevor.

He pulls back a little to try and get a better angle on the smell, and there's one thing apparent here: there is no spell around the bars or immediately within their boundary. That's good information to have, and so Alucard steps backward carefully.]

Rrf.

You know I don't know what that means.

[But he'll assume it means his tricky bit of figuring is correct, and that their quarry lies somewhere beyond this locked gate. Trevor turns to face it again, holding the torch higher and squinting through the grating, as if that will give him some better idea of what lay beyond (it won't, and he knows it, but he's an absolute child when Adrian tells him no we are not falling into this half-cocked chase right this very moment, and any tool to help him express his displeasure at the situation will be utilized, up to and including glaring into the darkness).

We'll be back to kill you, as soon as we write our paramour a note is possibly the most ridiculous way this night could end, and it's making Trevor itch.]

Come on, then. [Trevor sighs.] Let's go home and figure this out.

Come to think of it. [If Trevor's estimation of their location in the city is correct... He glances to the ceiling.] Isn't the back corner of your tomb somewhere nearby? Didn't you build any connections to the catacombs?

[Trevor's not certain why he would, or what purpose he thought it might serve during construction, but it certainly would be convenient right now.]

[Alucard takes a step back from the gate, a man again and one staring at the gate as if it has caused him a great offense. He doesn't cross his arms though - he instead holds one out for either the cane or the torch, whichever Trevor decides to give him first.]

Happily.

[Home is not a series of catacombs and therefore automatically better on principle. It's almost as relieving as the fact that Trevor has not dug his heels in about going beyond the gate and getting into trouble. He knows the Belmont and knows the Belmont well - the plausibility of that fight is very much there, ever lingering at the edge of conversation.

But his observation about the catacombs gives Alucard pause.]

It isn't far, but it doesn't connect. I made a point of that so to avoid intruders. Not that it prevented against you and Sypha, but I have a feeling that fate is to blame rather than construct.

Fate?

[Trevor's smirk has a tendency to soften with sentimentality. It's a subtle change, and it's easy to miss for anyone who's seen it less-frequently than Adrian and Sypha do. He hands over the cane but holds onto the torch, and his bare hand chances a too-lingering-to-be-accidental brush of Adrian's as he secures his glove again.

Now comes the real sport: finding their way out of this maze. Trevor thinks he remembers the way, hopes he can lead them out. If all else fails, Adrian can find the way for them, but Trevor will be damned if he gives the dhampir more ammunition for exactly why he shouldn't have come down here alone. No. And Trevor certainly looks far more assured than he feels when he starts back toward the narrower bit of corridor they'd come from.]

So that's what you call two strangers breaking into your keep, interrupting your slumber and assuming themselves into your life? As you will.

[Trevor's tone is decidedly gentle, for all its teasing. He won't bother fooling himself about it; he's glad Adrian sees it that way. Not an annoyance or a mistake. Simply what was supposed to happen.]

What would you call it?

[Alucard's head tilts back, just long enough to catch that sentimental smirk on Trevor's face. It's an uncommon look on Trevor, one that the vampire tries to treasure when he can for it's rarity.

The way Trevor's hand brushes over his though, that's an indicator of what the rest of the evening needs to be spent doing. Planning raids and attacks while holding one or the other is common enough in their strange little home, and Alucard quietly realizes that it has been a few days since they've really sat down together.

Alucard starts to walk with a certain confidence, making it clear that he knows the way out (or at least thinks he does). He doesn't look back to see if Trevor's following. He just assumes.]

Love at first sight?

[Arguably, that could just as well be fate, but Trevor can't resist an opportunity to stroke his own ego. Especially since Adrian's taking the lead, and Trevor can feel his eyebrow twitching as he reminds himself to allow it. Hang back. It's all right to rely on other people sometimes. They've talked about this, and Trevor is trying.

And walking behind Adrian, Trevor is suddenly reminded of how remarkably well-tailored are the dhampir's suits. This one looks crisp, the lines sharp and--

Not something Trevor should be deeply-pondering while stalking the catacombs, in any case.]

Is this a new coat? I haven't seen it on you before.

Is trying to murder me how you express love at first sight?

[It's a question that is asked very dryly, because Alucard remembers well their first meeting. He was dragged from his rest, and the fight that ensued only ended when Sypha threatened to light all of Alucard ablaze. But there's fondness too, because it simply feels right for what the three of them have become.

Alucard pauses at a five point intersection though, gesturing for Trevor to step forward and perhaps offer some illumination. His sense of smell is a little off with the overwhelming and sudden stink of sewage.]

It isn't, but I don't believe I've worn it around you before. The fabric's waterproofed.

[It had seemed a wise idea at the time. Alucard pauses, then tilts his head at Trevor.]

Did you cross here, or no?

Yes.

[It's hard to say which question that affirmation is answering, but knowing Trevor, it's not outside the realm of possibility for him to confuse aggression with affection. The man isn't completely aware of his own emotions, neither putting names to them nor acting accordingly.

Trevor slips past Adrian, pausing to survey the intersection, before motioning for the passage second-to-left. There are small protrusions in the rock between each passage, small shelves whose purpose has been lost to time, and Trevor snatches up a coin from the shelf as they pass.

He's not entirely useless after all.]

It looks good. You should wear it more often.

[The yes makes sense for both anyway. Alucard's response is a soft, chuffed noise that fades down the catacombs behind him, and soon he's in perfect step with Trevor. His eyes catch the glint of the coin in the light.

Clever.

He keeps walking, the tip of the cane tapping against the ground. He's never revealed that said tip is silver (and thus a danger to himself, technically), and tapping it right now feels like a thin safety measure.]

We'll need to take more walks in places like this then.

[Extremely romantic, catacomb walks.

Well, stops now. Alucard's ears twitch as he hears movement behind them both, painfully slow at first and--]

Start running, Belmont.

[It speaks volumes to the trust they've developed with each other, that when Adrian says run, Trevor doesn't question it. No whys, no scoffs, no argument; because they both know they're a force to be reckoned with, especially together, and if Adrian has judged something too much of a challenge for them--

But Adrian's also not above ordering Trevor to run while he stays behind to contend with the thing, and like hell is Trevor leaving him alone down here with some horror. The stupidity of it hits him hard and fast; if they could smell their quarry, why didn't they think it could smell them too?

Trevor snatches Adrian's wrist and starts running.]

[Alucard didn't expect for Trevor to grab his hand too. He had little desire to turn and fight, because if this thing is what he thinks it is, they're very much in trouble.]

Don't look behind, I think it's a basilisk.

[It's a conclusion based on sound. He's heard no feet, only slick movement that sounds very much like a snake on a larger scale. A low hiss, one from very far away.

Alucard's feet pound over the catacomb's uneven flooring, and then to hell with it. He starts to float, feeling safer for having no stones to trip over.]

We need an exit. Now.

"Does he at the very least pay you for your work?" [ Leon can't imagine wanting to be near the monsters, nor their remains, any longer than needed be. From what he hears of Trevor, it seems the other Belmont views their bodies as reminders of his past accomplishments. While Alucard golf claps for him...? That's the impression he gets. ]

"Ah. Right, right. Well, see his hand here?" [ This vague blob of scribble, Alucard. ] "I'm about as long as this part of his finger, sort of like between the knuckle and the first joint." [ Leon gestures with his own fingers, pinching a small space estimate to his own description, and then lowers his hand to touch the page. ] "To scale. You'd probably be about the same, but maybe you can turn into something bigger." [ He's actually really curious about the extent of Alucard's abilities, but too polite to ask outright. ]

Not exactly. [The obvious answer about their sex life is much, much better left unsaid. Alucard just lets the matter drop, and proceeds to lean over Leon's shoulder to follow what he's talking about.]

That's extremely large. [An understatement.] No wonder you arrived as you did.

[He shakes his head at the thought.]

I can't change my body mass, I'm afraid. Do your notes reveal how the thing came to be defeated?

Working on it!

[For all that Trevor is skilled at working under pressure, they both know it's entirely ad-libbed and a large bit of stupid luck that pulls him through most situations. Call it divine protection. He's not so keen to test that theory now.

There'd been another street-level exit somewhere around here, he was sure of it. If only he had a moment to stop and get his bearings, he might be able to pick out the intersection that would lead them to it. They don't have the luxury to stop and think. Thankfully, he's not even stopping to pick up the coins at each passage split. If only he could remember, there's some demarcation, some--]

There!

[As they round the next corner into a new intersection, they find the passage to their far-right flanked by two gilded skulls. While skulls aren't unusual for catacombs, golden skulls are, and Trevor thought it was strange when he came upon them earlier, until he realized the passage was an exit. It made more sense then, and he should have filed the information away as important, but he'd almost forgotten.

Sure enough, the passage leads them to a crumbling staircase, and Trevor takes them three at a time, still holding tightly to Adrian's wrist.]

Catch All

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