You understand what it is to hunt monsters. You say those things, and to me it sounds like another hunt, even if your intentions seem good on your end. You haven't asked if I wanted any of those things either.
[He leaves aside the fact that it'd be a terrible idea because he's the son of Dracula.]
I like being here. Doing things for myself. Having the freedom to pick what I do and don't want. What you're describing sounds like death to me.
[ He is quiet for a long while, turning that over in his head. Humans like to be safe. They like knowing that there will be a next meal, and that nothing will hurt them. They like being given things that make them happy. He knows all of this. It's strange that Alucard wouldn't want those things. ]
You- want to be free to go to places that aren't safe. if you want to?
But then you would go away and not come back. Or be hurt.
[ He frowns at that, even if he is overjoyed that his husband is talking to him! Properly! And not even stabbing him! There are a lot of things that hurt people, in the world. He never would have run into Alucard if there weren't, after all. ]
[ He brightens, as if he's found a really obvious solution to this, but the sudden laughter from Sypha seems to indicate that he's misunderstood. Frowning in concentration, he tries a little harder. ]
You like- that you could be hurt. But not the being hurt?
[ He tilts his head, trying to consider how to explain hunting best. ]
From knowing that the monster has been hurting things and are scared of being hurt themselves, in Leon's hunts. And from chasing them. And from when they almost escape, and they think that they've gone unpunished, but you catch them anyway. And the meat. And from grinding their bones into meal and seeing the people they hurt picking flowers grown from their bodies. Or carving them into flutes and turning them into music.
[ As he speaks, his wings flick at the thought of it, eyes too bright and grin too wide. ]
[Okay, not as helpful as he thought. Alucard sighs, casting a side glance back to the speaker. They're better with words, aren't they? He's failing here, and he can feel himself failing. It's an unpleasant feeling.]
Doing all of of those things are choices you make. Choices that you make because they benefit you or give you pleasure in some way. They're also choices that have risks involved in them, because you could get hurt on a hunt. Or maybe someone will see you who shouldn't. But you make those choices all the same.
Where you go between hunts, those are choices to. Your will, your whim.
I don't even know if I want a husband. Or a wife. Or anyone. I need to learn those things in my own time, and being declared someone else's husband denies me that.
[Those words are automatic and accidental, but in them there's honesty. The messy kind that isn't careful and thought out, the approach that needs to be done with the fae.
But it is too late. The words have been said, and Alucard knows he must own them.]
You...you can't think of me as a given. Or as yours already, or husband, or any other preconcieved notion that you've built up based on what, meeting me three times over seven years? That is the first part of this. Think of me as you think of the people here. Individuals you're meeting. Getting to know. Working alongside with.
[ HE'S NOT SCARED OF YOUR DAD OKAY????? Even if he probably ought to be. He nods, wrapping himself up tighter until he's just a pair of half-grown antlers poking out of a bundle of velvety wings and fluff. ]
Talking later. Tired.
[ Sypha ruffles what she can reach of his collar in sympathy on her way to sit with Alucard to make sure he is okay and offer awkward, awkward apologies for her caravan containing an unexpected fairy. ]
I will talk to him later. See that he understands.
[He does feel bad, seeing the fae close up in on himself like this. It does suggest that there's some understanding in him, but it doesn't feel good. Alucard offers a very soft I'm sorry before he stands up and withdraws, giving Trevor precious space. He picks up the cold iron and pockets it.
Emotions are hard and cruel. Alucard knows that, and being the one to inflict that sort of harm hurts too. When they're far enough away, he inclines his head, accepting the apology and everything.]
Thank you. For that, and for your help. If anything changes with regards to murmurings of witches, please contact me as soon as you're able. Likewise, if there's a failure in recovery, you know where I am.
[ News of witches comes sooner than any of them would have liked. It's only a month before Alucard sees Trevor again. The speakers are not in tow, still at least a week's ride away, and the unconscious woman in his arms is not one of their number. The smell of smoke - thankfully smoke alone, and not charred flesh, is thick on both of them.
He can, at least, see the clinic. Crossing the iron gate into the garden, passing all the wards intended to protect the clinic from him, specifically, is another matter entirely. He makes it about halfway up the path before the cold and numbness becomes too much to stand. Once he falls, he throws pebbles at the door to try to get attention and then, once he loses the ability to throw them far enough, takes to trying to edges closer to it, inch by inch, putting his wings between the patient and the ground to keep from dragging her along it. ]
[Lisa is not at home. She is attending another patient in town, a man who is doubtlessly dying of cancer and needs ways to dull the pain until his last breath passes. Dracula is likewise elsewhere, as seven years ago a panther attacked his son under the guise of the fae, and she knows she has done the lord of all vampires wrong. Her attempts to remain hidden are not so much that as a game of cat and mouse, and tonight she has played a weak hand.
So Alucard is alone when Trevor passes through the iron gates of his mother's clinic and their smaller family home, and he leaves his cold iron behind the moment he looks out the window and sees another woman in Trevor's arms. He's out the door in a moment, and his instructions are what might be expected of a doctor's son. He doesn't have her education, but Alucard has been around his mother long enough to understand certain needs.]
Lay her down on the grass. Support her head to make sure she has an airway clear.
[Alucard is crouching besides the proper spot.]
Tell me what happened.
[All of his words are command, fueled by intent. Not to deal with Trevor, but to address the situation at hand for the patient's sake. The stench of smoke gives a few suggestions though, and Alucard hates it. He doesn't recall how to deal with smoke inhalation, not off the top of his head..]
[ It's difficult to move at all in a place so heavily warded against him, but he has orders. This isn't a question of whether he can do it, only that he must. He moves the woman onto the grass, putting his hands beneath her head to support it. ]
She breathed in smoke. [ He answers before he realises what he's doing. ] It made her throat- too small. The speakers couldn't stop to treat her, and my sister's medicine won't work.
[ The smoke was put there by the church. Fairy magic is struggling to budge it. ]
Okay. [He breathes out.] Okay. I'm not equipped to deal with this, but the doctor who lives here is.
[Doctor. Not his mother.
Alucard swears softly, and with that he moves his forearms under the accused witch, careful as he lifts her into his arms. He has to go get her. That'll be the best way to move forward. With that, he looks to Trevor.]
Go to the forest outside of town. I'll meet you at daybreak and apprise you of the situation. You were right to bring her here.
[ Speaking is- difficult, within the wards, when not instructed to. He nods, pulling himself up to his knees and slowly, steadily pushing himself back from the clinic. By now, he's starting to leave a trail of dead moths behind him, which is new and upsetting. He can feel his own antlers in the wards, and if Alucard hadn't already explained the way things were, perhaps that in itself would be enough to communicate even to him how unwelcome he is at this building.
Once he reaches the gate - thankfully he left it open and doesn't have to touch the iron of it again - he is gone in a (rather too small) cloud of moths.
At daybreak, the forest is quiet. About nine tenths of Trevor is there. His wings end abruptly in ragged edges, one of his hands is missing two fingers and one of his eyes isn't blinking and is a pearly white instead of blue. His clothes hang in a way that suggests a chunk of his chest is absent. It'll heal with time, but he can no more walk through the wards unharmed than Alucard could walk through molten silver. ]
[Alucard doesn't watch Trevor goes. He runs into the clinic with the woman in his arms, places her with enough supports on her head and neck to ensure that she will be able to breathe, and then departs. Vampire speed is not something he dares use in civilization unless he must, and now is one of the situations that demand it.
He finds his mother tending to a dying man. After a terse discussion, that care becomes Alucard's charge, and she runs back to the clinic as quickly as her own legs can carry her. The wind has already blown away the corpses of dead moths.
The man does not make it through the night. Alucard returns to his mother's side at three in the morning, exchanging the bad news for the good. The woman will endure, but she will need a new home. If those moths on the lawn were anything to go by, we may end up giving her this one Lisa says, because Dracula is nothing if not predictable.
It is slightly before dawn that Alucard finds Trevor. He's tired, and it shows in the slump of his shoulders and the fact he has his hair up in the messiest bun. His eyes regard Trevor, and he cringes slightly. His father's magic has always been powerful, but the effect of this is disturbing to behold.]
She'll be fine, but she can't return to her home. The cost will be her life if she does.
[ It is a good thing that Lisa's book was published anonymously, they'll learn, when the woman is well enough to speak. Her copy of it, and her attempts to teach herself to deliver children, was the decisive piece of evidence at the short trial.
Trevor nods, and when he speaks his tone is careful. ]
The Speakers sent me ahead. They'll be a week, yet. They have news. About the burning.
[ Kind of stating the obvious, there. It would be kind of weird if he'd brought a witch trial victim and didn't have news. ]
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[ So no. No, he doesn't. ]
I do. But I wouldn't.
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[ He seems genuinely confused by it. ]
I wouldn't hurt you. And you would be safe and I would bring you books and food and blood and whatever else you wanted.
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[The response is emphatic. Underlining the word.]
You understand what it is to hunt monsters. You say those things, and to me it sounds like another hunt, even if your intentions seem good on your end. You haven't asked if I wanted any of those things either.
[He leaves aside the fact that it'd be a terrible idea because he's the son of Dracula.]
I like being here. Doing things for myself. Having the freedom to pick what I do and don't want. What you're describing sounds like death to me.
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You- want to be free to go to places that aren't safe. if you want to?
[ It's a difficult concept. ]
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[Alucard doesn't know how much of this is really getting through. But it feels like the fae is making an effort. That is worth an awful lot]
You'll learn more from being around other humans as well.
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[ He frowns at that, even if he is overjoyed that his husband is talking to him! Properly! And not even stabbing him! There are a lot of things that hurt people, in the world. He never would have run into Alucard if there weren't, after all. ]
I don't like it.
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[ He brightens, as if he's found a really obvious solution to this, but the sudden laughter from Sypha seems to indicate that he's misunderstood. Frowning in concentration, he tries a little harder. ]
You like- that you could be hurt. But not the being hurt?
[ This makes so little sense to him. ]
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[He very much likes this speaker. She has a good humor to her.
Alucard pauses, considering how to make sense of this for the fae.]
When you hunt, is there a thrill to it? Where does that sense come from?
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From knowing that the monster has been hurting things and are scared of being hurt themselves, in Leon's hunts. And from chasing them. And from when they almost escape, and they think that they've gone unpunished, but you catch them anyway. And the meat. And from grinding their bones into meal and seeing the people they hurt picking flowers grown from their bodies. Or carving them into flutes and turning them into music.
[ As he speaks, his wings flick at the thought of it, eyes too bright and grin too wide. ]
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Doing all of of those things are choices you make. Choices that you make because they benefit you or give you pleasure in some way. They're also choices that have risks involved in them, because you could get hurt on a hunt. Or maybe someone will see you who shouldn't. But you make those choices all the same.
Where you go between hunts, those are choices to. Your will, your whim.
Why would you deny that to others?
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Is there a better way? [ He asks eventually, cautiously. ] To make you not go away and find a different husband? I don't want that to happen.
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[Those words are automatic and accidental, but in them there's honesty. The messy kind that isn't careful and thought out, the approach that needs to be done with the fae.
But it is too late. The words have been said, and Alucard knows he must own them.]
You...you can't think of me as a given. Or as yours already, or husband, or any other preconcieved notion that you've built up based on what, meeting me three times over seven years? That is the first part of this. Think of me as you think of the people here. Individuals you're meeting. Getting to know. Working alongside with.
I understand this hurts.
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And there is nothing I can give you to change that?
[ It's pointless to ask. He knows it is. But making deals is what his kind does. ]
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[A single word, all too firm.]
Will is important. Mine is equal and as great as yours. Let us begin there, and see where things unfold. Who knows where the future goes from here.
[There is a pause, then a softer, more apologetic tone.]
And believe me when I say this? This is better than what would have been the fall out of doing things your way.
[Alucard 200% knows his father would start shit with the fae to get his son back. He'd rather not be Helen of House Tepes, thank you.]
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Talking later. Tired.
[ Sypha ruffles what she can reach of his collar in sympathy on her way to sit with Alucard to make sure he is okay and offer awkward, awkward apologies for her caravan containing an unexpected fairy. ]
I will talk to him later. See that he understands.
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Emotions are hard and cruel. Alucard knows that, and being the one to inflict that sort of harm hurts too. When they're far enough away, he inclines his head, accepting the apology and everything.]
Thank you. For that, and for your help. If anything changes with regards to murmurings of witches, please contact me as soon as you're able. Likewise, if there's a failure in recovery, you know where I am.
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He can, at least, see the clinic. Crossing the iron gate into the garden, passing all the wards intended to protect the clinic from him, specifically, is another matter entirely. He makes it about halfway up the path before the cold and numbness becomes too much to stand. Once he falls, he throws pebbles at the door to try to get attention and then, once he loses the ability to throw them far enough, takes to trying to edges closer to it, inch by inch, putting his wings between the patient and the ground to keep from dragging her along it. ]
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So Alucard is alone when Trevor passes through the iron gates of his mother's clinic and their smaller family home, and he leaves his cold iron behind the moment he looks out the window and sees another woman in Trevor's arms. He's out the door in a moment, and his instructions are what might be expected of a doctor's son. He doesn't have her education, but Alucard has been around his mother long enough to understand certain needs.]
Lay her down on the grass. Support her head to make sure she has an airway clear.
[Alucard is crouching besides the proper spot.]
Tell me what happened.
[All of his words are command, fueled by intent. Not to deal with Trevor, but to address the situation at hand for the patient's sake. The stench of smoke gives a few suggestions though, and Alucard hates it. He doesn't recall how to deal with smoke inhalation, not off the top of his head..]
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She breathed in smoke. [ He answers before he realises what he's doing. ] It made her throat- too small. The speakers couldn't stop to treat her, and my sister's medicine won't work.
[ The smoke was put there by the church. Fairy magic is struggling to budge it. ]
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[Doctor. Not his mother.
Alucard swears softly, and with that he moves his forearms under the accused witch, careful as he lifts her into his arms. He has to go get her. That'll be the best way to move forward. With that, he looks to Trevor.]
Go to the forest outside of town. I'll meet you at daybreak and apprise you of the situation. You were right to bring her here.
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Once he reaches the gate - thankfully he left it open and doesn't have to touch the iron of it again - he is gone in a (rather too small) cloud of moths.
At daybreak, the forest is quiet. About nine tenths of Trevor is there. His wings end abruptly in ragged edges, one of his hands is missing two fingers and one of his eyes isn't blinking and is a pearly white instead of blue. His clothes hang in a way that suggests a chunk of his chest is absent. It'll heal with time, but he can no more walk through the wards unharmed than Alucard could walk through molten silver. ]
Is she alive?
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He finds his mother tending to a dying man. After a terse discussion, that care becomes Alucard's charge, and she runs back to the clinic as quickly as her own legs can carry her. The wind has already blown away the corpses of dead moths.
The man does not make it through the night. Alucard returns to his mother's side at three in the morning, exchanging the bad news for the good. The woman will endure, but she will need a new home. If those moths on the lawn were anything to go by, we may end up giving her this one Lisa says, because Dracula is nothing if not predictable.
It is slightly before dawn that Alucard finds Trevor. He's tired, and it shows in the slump of his shoulders and the fact he has his hair up in the messiest bun. His eyes regard Trevor, and he cringes slightly. His father's magic has always been powerful, but the effect of this is disturbing to behold.]
She'll be fine, but she can't return to her home. The cost will be her life if she does.
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Trevor nods, and when he speaks his tone is careful. ]
The Speakers sent me ahead. They'll be a week, yet. They have news. About the burning.
[ Kind of stating the obvious, there. It would be kind of weird if he'd brought a witch trial victim and didn't have news. ]
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