[ There's a story, now. Sypha helped him with it. He's a weaver, boarding with an old friend while he studies the work of the city's artisans. Nothing about it is particularly untrue, just- missing details. It doesn't change much, save that Alucard's grandmothers keep dropping off socks and linens to be darned. He does those errands, and a few that come up in the clinic that he can be trusted with. And then in the evenings he sits like this, bundled up among cushions, Alucard's warm and human weight against him.
It's perfect. His sisters were concerned, at first, but so long as he doesn't neglect his family's work or the tasks that the queen sets for him there don't seem to be any consequences. ]
Mm?
[ He smiles sleepily at the gesture, unthreading their fingers from each other so that he can stroke Alucard's cheek. ]
no subject
It's perfect. His sisters were concerned, at first, but so long as he doesn't neglect his family's work or the tasks that the queen sets for him there don't seem to be any consequences. ]
Mm?
[ He smiles sleepily at the gesture, unthreading their fingers from each other so that he can stroke Alucard's cheek. ]