As Trevor's pointed out more than once, Sypha's poker face is shit. She's never experienced an emotion she didn't immediately broadcast, including gently exasperated disbelief when her other lover claims not to be shackled to his family's legacy. They are, all of them, living legacies, culminations of works terrifyingly larger than themselves.
She doesn't call him on it. Not out loud. Her eyebrows do that for her. Instead, she traces the slight point of his ear and says, "Is that why we stay here, instead of rebuilding the Belmont estate? So that we might know them the way you did?"
The sad thing is, she can follow the logic. Sypha's spent days submerged in Dracula's notes, marveling at his intellect, completely forgetting how close she'd come to death by his hand. Even Trevor leaves off grumbling when he's neck deep in the marvelous self-filling tub in their washroom, with its never ending supply of clean hot water.
Traces of Lisa around the castle aren't so heavyhanded, since most of her personal effects were burned along with the home she kept in Tepes. Sypha catches her now and then like whiffs of faded incense - clever lamps installed in reading nooks for tired eyes, antibacterial silver tools in one of the labs, a brutally practical herb garden off one of the kitchens. It's oddly comforting to know that the castle has accommodated humans before, and can be made to do so again.
She tips her forehead against Alucard's with a sad smile for the people she will never know. "We know them through you, you know. It may not be ideal, but we get to see the kind of person they shaped, when they were at their best. That's not nothing."
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She doesn't call him on it. Not out loud. Her eyebrows do that for her. Instead, she traces the slight point of his ear and says, "Is that why we stay here, instead of rebuilding the Belmont estate? So that we might know them the way you did?"
The sad thing is, she can follow the logic. Sypha's spent days submerged in Dracula's notes, marveling at his intellect, completely forgetting how close she'd come to death by his hand. Even Trevor leaves off grumbling when he's neck deep in the marvelous self-filling tub in their washroom, with its never ending supply of clean hot water.
Traces of Lisa around the castle aren't so heavyhanded, since most of her personal effects were burned along with the home she kept in Tepes. Sypha catches her now and then like whiffs of faded incense - clever lamps installed in reading nooks for tired eyes, antibacterial silver tools in one of the labs, a brutally practical herb garden off one of the kitchens. It's oddly comforting to know that the castle has accommodated humans before, and can be made to do so again.
She tips her forehead against Alucard's with a sad smile for the people she will never know. "We know them through you, you know. It may not be ideal, but we get to see the kind of person they shaped, when they were at their best. That's not nothing."