[Firm. Demanding. A command, because that's one of the few good ways to deal with the fae.
Alucard doesn't move an inch from where he stands. His sword is as straight and steady as if he's anticipating moving to attack. He may, at this rate.]
[That is a problem. Alucard knows he's two days out from home.]
By your laws, what does make the difference?
[It's a step too far. There's a flash of movement, and the blade of the sword is no longer simply ready. It rests against Trevor's neck instead, the razor thin edge of it drawing blood in the tiniest amount. There's a chance it might heal, Alucard doesn't mind. He's made a point, and that his hand is so steady should signal to the fae to knock it the hell off.]
Anything that requires being held apart or departing these lands will never be a thing that holds interest for me.
[ He moves back only a little. Only enough to wipe a finger across the cut and extend the hand toward Alucard's face in offering. The cut doesn't heal immediately, but nor does he seem overly bothered by it. ]
[Alucard's cold confidence is something that is absolutely inherited by his father. Even if this caused a Problem with the fae, he knew his father. The rage that some fae would even consider taking his son into the realms beyond would be more than enough.
It wasn't a smart thing to fall back on, but some truths never were.
Alucard takes a single step forward, so that the sword remains within the same range it was only moments ago.]
[ His tone is warm, despite the blood trickling from his throat. Warm and soft and almost a little too earnest, in a way that makes dishonesty almost seem preferable. He reaches forward, wiping the blood against Alucard's lips. ]
Whose blood does? I could find them for you You could feed only upon them.
[Alucard doesn't like this one goddamn bit. He can't respond with Trevor's blood on his lips, he has to take a moment to raise his other hand and wipe it off on the sleeve of his coat. That's...actually not the worst thing he could do, if he understands how fae magic works. But the blood's gone, he can respond.]
Right now you've made that so.
[The sword moves from throat to shoulder in one flash, and this time there's no teasing. In a moment, the blade digs into Trevor's shoulder, right below the bone moving in.]
I take care of my own needs, fae. Whatever you offer, I know it comes with terms and conditions, and I am not that foolish.
[ A sword. There’s a sword in his shoulder. Inconvenient. He looks at it, gritting his teeth (fae or not, having a sword scraping against bone is not a painless experience). ]
You are a little bit foolish. Whoever told you about my siblings and I, you ought perhaps ask them why one shouldn’t attack unarmed men in the woods.
[ Aside from the gritted teeth, there isn’t a lot of reaction to the sword. He collects the blood in his palm, outstretching it once again. ]
[He could hide the books somewhere and find a way to return home faster. That's a possibility, but that requires leaving this situation unscathed first.
But Alucard is wise enough to be listening for other fae now, if that's what he means by mentioning siblings. He doesn't like this one bit.]
I've no interest in you. Your rituals only concern me for my own well being.
[ That, he seems a little offended by. He sighs, almost sulking. ]
I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to keep you and dress you in pretty things. But you are very interesting, and my family are not the only ones who go hunting tonight. If you were mine, none of them could touch you.
You could stab me more, if that’s what you wanted. If it would make you happy.
Then you're no better than any other hunter who has seen my nature and demanded my head for it.
[This is going no where. Alucard withdraws the sword, and he anticipates the spray of blood that will come with the action.]
If you give anything freely before I depart, have it be this: ways to avoid the eyes of your people during this ritual, should one be caught outside. Otherwise, go. Lick your wounds and leave me be.
[Alucard doesn't believe the first part. The second, maybe, if the antlers on the fae's head are anything to go by. He doesn't want to rely on this fae at all.
The sword does not go lower. His eyes remain fixated on Trevor, gold, cold, and unmoved.]
Noted.
[No thank yous, no politeness, just that coldness he always projects to the world at large.]
Go then. This hunt of yours is done. I am not something you can own.
[ He spreads his wings, the one on the stabbed side only a fraction slower than the other, and reaches out with his good arm. He takes a lovk of Alucard’s hair, bringing it up to his lips. ]
[Alucard hisses when Trevor's hand reaches to his hair, and he tries to swat the wrist as Trevor takes that lock of hair. He uses claws, he doesn't know if he draws blood. All he hisses out is something that may help any spells done with that lock:]
That is not freely given or paid for.
[It may do nothing at all.
In the hours between Trevor's departure and sunset, Alucard finds himself unable to even make the inn. It's closed down between the last time he went by it and now, and so it affords even less protection than it might otherwise.
But he knows the area. To the west there is a series of caves, and in the past, he has gone there to roost in his bat form if absolutely needed. The bats, they know what he is. Whose son he is, and they don't question his presence. So it is there he goes, leaving the books a little ways into the cave and then roosting directly over them, refusing to move.
Sunset comes. The bats stay where they are, not daring to hunt this evening. There is a far greater party than they that have such rights, and Alucard hates that fact. To command men, that he understands, but other creatures whose lives may depend on nightly feeding? That rankles.
He stays still all the same, thinking the words home over and over again, as if the intent will make it true.]
[ The cave is safer than the inn would have been, not Alucard’s home but home to the bats and protected by the laws of the fae. The animals that ride with them, though, their hunking dogs and birds, they are held by no such laws. It is a large panther that first finds its way into the cave, stalking through the darkness and toward Alucard with purpose.
The Belmonts are not the only hunting party, only the ones who seek out monsters exclusively. There are others. Others with alliances and a better understanding of when Alucard is than Trevor possessed and knowledge of his value. It lunges upward, trying to capture his bat form in its jaws. ]
[Alucard can't vocalize in more than a truly alarmed squeak in this form. It's a noise that unsettles him even as the sound escapes his throat. Echoes off the cave walls, and the bats around him do react. They unfurl their wings, squeaking furiously at the panther as Alucard tries to flatten himself against the ceiling, almost impossible to reach.
He is an esteemed guest! is the cry, like that may at least reach the ears of the panther's master and send the thing away.
Alucard manages to stay flat against the ceiling, away from snapping jaws, but he doesn't know if that will see any of his hosts hurt. He can't allow his presence to put them in danger. He can only wait a moment more, wait to see if the panther insists...]
[ The panther misses Alucard narrowly, stalking about the cave below him and the other bats. They can keep track of it, trying to remain as high as possible and as far from the animal as they can. There is a flurry of activity as the panther lunges again. This time, it catches something. Not the quarry is came here for, and it expresses its disappointment with a sout crunch of the bat in its mouth. ]
[Decision made then. One loss is enough, and Alucard squeaks out something - an apology and his gratitude - before he takes flight, his wings beating as fast as his tiny little bat heart can manage.
Air is not better than the ground. Alucard knows that, knows that there will be birds of prey mixed in with the hunt. All the same, a panther will struggle to track a scent of a thing in the air. Be it this or wolf form, Alucard knows which one the situation calls for.
Going home cannot happen. The castle has been warded to be unfindable, but his scent may yet lead pursuers much too close for comfort. He's already going to be dealing with the fall out of this when he returns home. There are no good options of what to do for his own safety.
He keeps flying, ears keen for threats above and below, but truly seeking the sound of thundering hooves. This is a terrible option, but it is the safest of the ones available to him. Once home, he'll probably be barred for leaving anyway.
So there's a tiny little zip of a thing that passes over the great procession of thundering hooves, proud wolves, prouder fae who run riot over the land tonight. And in it all, there's a small bat now huddled into the fluff of one of their cloaks, sour and furious.]
[ The panther gives chase only so far, because it isn’t long before Alucard crosses the path of one particular hunting party. Led by a golden-haired man in blue and gold ridingon the back of a massive white lion. A party betternot crossed by anything, least of all whatever the panther is.
Sure enough, toward the back of the group a group of black hounds runs at the side of a larger dog, one carrying a woman in a long cloak, hood awkwardly pulled over her own antlers. Amoung them, Trevor rides upon a grey hart. He twists his head about, having caught the scent of his husband, as his sister plucks the bat from her collar by a tiny leg, determines it to not be a dog, and tosses it aside. It’s about as dignified as it sounds.
The bat falls into Trevor’s hands and he looks down at Alucard, beaming. ]
One kiss. [ He whispers. ] For my protection. Unless you have something else you’d sooner trade.
[Dignity is the very, very least of Alucard's worries right now. He's lost it a few times, and tonight it was taken by that panther. He'll return to the cave with daylight and apologize properly. Bury the poor thing the panther took instead, then continue along home.
He needs to speak to his father about how to travel not only as a man.
For now though, there is a series of soft squeaks and chirrups after being tossed into Trevor's hands, and somehow even they manage to convey the absolute level of done and having a terrible night that the vampire is having.]
Fine. Location is at my discretion, you take nothing of me. Hair, spit, even slivers of my skin that contain my cells. Nothing.
[Bats are very good at scowling it seems, if the look on Alucard's face is anything to go by.]
[ He places Alucard on his shoulder. There us fur aplenty there, to hide him, but he’s also close to Trevor’s wings. Beneath them, there is space to transform back and still remain hidden, if Alucard wishes. The woman on the dog looks at him quizically, and he grins, gesturing to the bat. ]
[Alucard's staying as a bat. He had made that decision the minute that he took the form, but there's a probable advantage for Trevor here too. It means what would have been a completely well earned, Dracula channeling, thundering WHAT is just endless disapproving squeaking.
It still translates to WHAT?! but in a way that doesn't bring too much attention to the vampire. Or Trevor. Or whatever is about to happen.
This is bad.
This is immensely bad, and Alucard cannot even begin to fathom what the reaction is going to be when he gets home.]
[ He repeats it softer now, just for Alucard, stroking the bat softly. It would be nice, maybe, to kiss the little bat. But deals are deals. Not until Alucard chooses the place. ]
We're hunting the plague. [ He whispers, continuing to stroke the bat. ] Ride with us until we're done, and then I'll take you wherever you please.
[ Their hunting party is nearing a city. Trevor's arm, the stabbed one, dissolves into hundreds of moths as they pass by houses and a horde of insects and birds and small animals flood into the houses through whatever entrances they can find, chasing out a thick, green-white smoke. It coalesces into a group of cloaked figures as more and more of it is expelled from houses.
Enid, whose hounds are all too large to enter homes and drive out the smoke, takes action once the figures form, her dogs rushing forward and giving chase.
Trevor grips the antlers of his hart more tightly as his arm reforms, riding faster as the hunt begins proper. Fairy Belmont medicine is happening, they're going to actually beat the shit out of a plague. ]
[Again: bat squeaking doesn't help any dignity in the moment. Alucard scowls, the little bat's face scrunched up in absolute fury. Whatever that panther was, he hates that it forced a hand like this.
He's going to be in the castle for some time when he gets back, isn't he?
All the same, Alucard manages to stay well attached to the fluff of Trevor's cloak, little bat limbs far stronger than they have any right to be. But when Trevor says plague Alucard tries to fight back on principle. Germs can't be hunted. Not in a way that makes sense and...
...and none of this makes sense. There is miasma taking human form as whatever this personification of plague is, and it flies in the face of everything Alucard had been taught. Everything he understands about medicine and science, and maybe there's a logic in it in it's own way. These are old, ancient things. Why would they behave according to modernity?
He stays where he is. Doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, tries to focus on his own problems instead. It's a long night, isn't it? He has much to think about.]
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[Firm. Demanding. A command, because that's one of the few good ways to deal with the fae.
Alucard doesn't move an inch from where he stands. His sword is as straight and steady as if he's anticipating moving to attack. He may, at this rate.]
I categorically refuse.
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[ He moves closer still, until he's very much starting to be within Alucard's personal space. ]
A shame, my kind's reputation as lovers is very well-earned.
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By your laws, what does make the difference?
[It's a step too far. There's a flash of movement, and the blade of the sword is no longer simply ready. It rests against Trevor's neck instead, the razor thin edge of it drawing blood in the tiniest amount. There's a chance it might heal, Alucard doesn't mind. He's made a point, and that his hand is so steady should signal to the fae to knock it the hell off.]
Anything that requires being held apart or departing these lands will never be a thing that holds interest for me.
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[ He moves back only a little. Only enough to wipe a finger across the cut and extend the hand toward Alucard's face in offering. The cut doesn't heal immediately, but nor does he seem overly bothered by it. ]
I could convince you.
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[Alucard's cold confidence is something that is absolutely inherited by his father. Even if this caused a Problem with the fae, he knew his father. The rage that some fae would even consider taking his son into the realms beyond would be more than enough.
It wasn't a smart thing to fall back on, but some truths never were.
Alucard takes a single step forward, so that the sword remains within the same range it was only moments ago.]
Your blood does not interest me.
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[ His tone is warm, despite the blood trickling from his throat. Warm and soft and almost a little too earnest, in a way that makes dishonesty almost seem preferable. He reaches forward, wiping the blood against Alucard's lips. ]
Whose blood does? I could find them for you You could feed only upon them.
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Right now you've made that so.
[The sword moves from throat to shoulder in one flash, and this time there's no teasing. In a moment, the blade digs into Trevor's shoulder, right below the bone moving in.]
I take care of my own needs, fae. Whatever you offer, I know it comes with terms and conditions, and I am not that foolish.
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You are a little bit foolish. Whoever told you about my siblings and I, you ought perhaps ask them why one shouldn’t attack unarmed men in the woods.
[ Aside from the gritted teeth, there isn’t a lot of reaction to the sword. He collects the blood in his palm, outstretching it once again. ]
Offered freely. No terms.
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[He could hide the books somewhere and find a way to return home faster. That's a possibility, but that requires leaving this situation unscathed first.
But Alucard is wise enough to be listening for other fae now, if that's what he means by mentioning siblings. He doesn't like this one bit.]
I've no interest in you. Your rituals only concern me for my own well being.
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I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to keep you and dress you in pretty things. But you are very interesting, and my family are not the only ones who go hunting tonight. If you were mine, none of them could touch you.
You could stab me more, if that’s what you wanted. If it would make you happy.
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[This is going no where. Alucard withdraws the sword, and he anticipates the spray of blood that will come with the action.]
If you give anything freely before I depart, have it be this: ways to avoid the eyes of your people during this ritual, should one be caught outside. Otherwise, go. Lick your wounds and leave me be.
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[ He tests the arm as blood sprays out from the cut, trying to lift it with limited success. The wing on the same side moves well enough, at least. ]
Look for a deer hunting with wolves. Shout to it, and have something to give in return for protection.
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The sword does not go lower. His eyes remain fixated on Trevor, gold, cold, and unmoved.]
Noted.
[No thank yous, no politeness, just that coldness he always projects to the world at large.]
Go then. This hunt of yours is done. I am not something you can own.
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[ He spreads his wings, the one on the stabbed side only a fraction slower than the other, and reaches out with his good arm. He takes a lovk of Alucard’s hair, bringing it up to his lips. ]
Until sunset, then.
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That is not freely given or paid for.
[It may do nothing at all.
In the hours between Trevor's departure and sunset, Alucard finds himself unable to even make the inn. It's closed down between the last time he went by it and now, and so it affords even less protection than it might otherwise.
But he knows the area. To the west there is a series of caves, and in the past, he has gone there to roost in his bat form if absolutely needed. The bats, they know what he is. Whose son he is, and they don't question his presence. So it is there he goes, leaving the books a little ways into the cave and then roosting directly over them, refusing to move.
Sunset comes. The bats stay where they are, not daring to hunt this evening. There is a far greater party than they that have such rights, and Alucard hates that fact. To command men, that he understands, but other creatures whose lives may depend on nightly feeding? That rankles.
He stays still all the same, thinking the words home over and over again, as if the intent will make it true.]
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The Belmonts are not the only hunting party, only the ones who seek out monsters exclusively. There are others. Others with alliances and a better understanding of when Alucard is than Trevor possessed and knowledge of his value. It lunges upward, trying to capture his bat form in its jaws. ]
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He is an esteemed guest! is the cry, like that may at least reach the ears of the panther's master and send the thing away.
Alucard manages to stay flat against the ceiling, away from snapping jaws, but he doesn't know if that will see any of his hosts hurt. He can't allow his presence to put them in danger. He can only wait a moment more, wait to see if the panther insists...]
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Air is not better than the ground. Alucard knows that, knows that there will be birds of prey mixed in with the hunt. All the same, a panther will struggle to track a scent of a thing in the air. Be it this or wolf form, Alucard knows which one the situation calls for.
Going home cannot happen. The castle has been warded to be unfindable, but his scent may yet lead pursuers much too close for comfort. He's already going to be dealing with the fall out of this when he returns home. There are no good options of what to do for his own safety.
He keeps flying, ears keen for threats above and below, but truly seeking the sound of thundering hooves. This is a terrible option, but it is the safest of the ones available to him. Once home, he'll probably be barred for leaving anyway.
So there's a tiny little zip of a thing that passes over the great procession of thundering hooves, proud wolves, prouder fae who run riot over the land tonight. And in it all, there's a small bat now huddled into the fluff of one of their cloaks, sour and furious.]
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Sure enough, toward the back of the group a group of black hounds runs at the side of a larger dog, one carrying a woman in a long cloak, hood awkwardly pulled over her own antlers. Amoung them, Trevor rides upon a grey hart. He twists his head about, having caught the scent of his husband, as his sister plucks the bat from her collar by a tiny leg, determines it to not be a dog, and tosses it aside. It’s about as dignified as it sounds.
The bat falls into Trevor’s hands and he looks down at Alucard, beaming. ]
One kiss. [ He whispers. ] For my protection. Unless you have something else you’d sooner trade.
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He needs to speak to his father about how to travel not only as a man.
For now though, there is a series of soft squeaks and chirrups after being tossed into Trevor's hands, and somehow even they manage to convey the absolute level of done and having a terrible night that the vampire is having.]
Fine. Location is at my discretion, you take nothing of me. Hair, spit, even slivers of my skin that contain my cells. Nothing.
[Bats are very good at scowling it seems, if the look on Alucard's face is anything to go by.]
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[ He places Alucard on his shoulder. There us fur aplenty there, to hide him, but he’s also close to Trevor’s wings. Beneath them, there is space to transform back and still remain hidden, if Alucard wishes. The woman on the dog looks at him quizically, and he grins, gesturing to the bat. ]
My husband. I told you I would find one.
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It still translates to WHAT?! but in a way that doesn't bring too much attention to the vampire. Or Trevor. Or whatever is about to happen.
This is bad.
This is immensely bad, and Alucard cannot even begin to fathom what the reaction is going to be when he gets home.]
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[ He repeats it softer now, just for Alucard, stroking the bat softly. It would be nice, maybe, to kiss the little bat. But deals are deals. Not until Alucard chooses the place. ]
We're hunting the plague. [ He whispers, continuing to stroke the bat. ] Ride with us until we're done, and then I'll take you wherever you please.
[ Their hunting party is nearing a city. Trevor's arm, the stabbed one, dissolves into hundreds of moths as they pass by houses and a horde of insects and birds and small animals flood into the houses through whatever entrances they can find, chasing out a thick, green-white smoke. It coalesces into a group of cloaked figures as more and more of it is expelled from houses.
Enid, whose hounds are all too large to enter homes and drive out the smoke, takes action once the figures form, her dogs rushing forward and giving chase.
Trevor grips the antlers of his hart more tightly as his arm reforms, riding faster as the hunt begins proper. Fairy Belmont medicine is happening, they're going to actually beat the shit out of a plague. ]
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[Again: bat squeaking doesn't help any dignity in the moment. Alucard scowls, the little bat's face scrunched up in absolute fury. Whatever that panther was, he hates that it forced a hand like this.
He's going to be in the castle for some time when he gets back, isn't he?
All the same, Alucard manages to stay well attached to the fluff of Trevor's cloak, little bat limbs far stronger than they have any right to be. But when Trevor says plague Alucard tries to fight back on principle. Germs can't be hunted. Not in a way that makes sense and...
...and none of this makes sense. There is miasma taking human form as whatever this personification of plague is, and it flies in the face of everything Alucard had been taught. Everything he understands about medicine and science, and maybe there's a logic in it in it's own way. These are old, ancient things. Why would they behave according to modernity?
He stays where he is. Doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, tries to focus on his own problems instead. It's a long night, isn't it? He has much to think about.]
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