[ Hell is a land of colour. Of brightness. The human world is muted and soft, with the occasional bright spot of colour. Sin turns it brighter. Vanity dyes silks every colour of the rainbow and Greed and gluttony drive kings to build treasuries of gold and jewels. Envy and wrath paint it green and red. Magic and forgemastry tug those colours into the human world, from the bright orange of Sypha’s flame to the soft blue and red glows of the night creatures eyes and teeth.
The Trantoul estate is a place between. All the greys of the human world, but the sky is a little bluer and the grass a little greener. The magical false sunlight shines through everything like it would pass through a layer of oil paint, its light bouncing around within everything and shining out again a brighter, purer tone of whatever colour it touches. ]
It might be a little draining, passing through.
[ It’s something of an understatement. The process of passing through the gate was draining even to Leon himself. He can go with him, make the journey merely exhausting instead of dangerous and painful, but it’s still not going to be pleasant. Trevor offers Alucard an arm - he’ll probably need it. ]
It’ll be worth it, I swear.
[ Alucard’s separation from his magic wasn’t resolved by Leon’s death the way Sypha’s was. It hasn’t returned. Probably won’t until all the gates are re-openned, which can’t safely be done right now. And he hasn’t complained. Not once. Hasn’t even sighed wistfully while looking over books in the hold.
But Trevor remembers what he said. It must hurt, being so separated from one of the few parts of his family that he has left. He can give him that back, even if only temporarily.
It’s probably somewhat inappropriate, that the doors to the Trantoul estate’s chapel now lead to hell. It’s certainly a heck of a choice that Leon made. ]
Sometimes you can’t think of a good date spot so you just drag your boyfriend to hell instead
The Trantoul estate is a place between. All the greys of the human world, but the sky is a little bluer and the grass a little greener. The magical false sunlight shines through everything like it would pass through a layer of oil paint, its light bouncing around within everything and shining out again a brighter, purer tone of whatever colour it touches. ]
It might be a little draining, passing through.
[ It’s something of an understatement. The process of passing through the gate was draining even to Leon himself. He can go with him, make the journey merely exhausting instead of dangerous and painful, but it’s still not going to be pleasant. Trevor offers Alucard an arm - he’ll probably need it. ]
It’ll be worth it, I swear.
[ Alucard’s separation from his magic wasn’t resolved by Leon’s death the way Sypha’s was. It hasn’t returned. Probably won’t until all the gates are re-openned, which can’t safely be done right now. And he hasn’t complained. Not once. Hasn’t even sighed wistfully while looking over books in the hold.
But Trevor remembers what he said. It must hurt, being so separated from one of the few parts of his family that he has left. He can give him that back, even if only temporarily.
It’s probably somewhat inappropriate, that the doors to the Trantoul estate’s chapel now lead to hell. It’s certainly a heck of a choice that Leon made. ]
Trust me?