[When Alucard has been alone in the Hold with no advanced noticed the other two would be returning home any time soon, he's written noises off as nothing more than the forest that surrounds the Belmont estate. Anything ghostly is sure to be a figment of imagination rather than a true spirit, and anything human makes very distinct noises indeed. The reason he hears anything at all is due to his own nature and the advantages that come with it.
So to say that there is noise coming from near the entrance, something wet and meaty, that's unusual. The smell that goes with it is faint, as he's so very far down, but Alucard can pick it out as nothing good and--
fuck, the books. There's been a shelf there of texts he was going to take up with him tonight so they could enter the conversation queue. Whatever's there now has doubtlessly made his life harder.
Alucard is on his feet in a second, sword in hand. With no time to waste, he takes advantage of his natural speed, and...
...this is a scene that if Trevor was in Leon's place, he wouldn't blink twice. Getting gross stuff into the Hold by accident is far too normal. But no, he's looking at a man who by all rights is dead and has just fallen out of his own portrait, covered in effluvia and looking like absolute shit.
Yet all Alucard can manage is a tired sigh, and an intonation that is absolutely exhausted.]
Belmont.
[No hello, not even a what are you doing here. Just the surname, followed by:] Let's get you away from the books. They don't need any extra reasons to be repaired.
[Alucard walks over very cautiously, sword in one hand and the other outreached towards Leon.]
[ For an extended moment, the figure crumpled beneath the books does not move. The stillness keeps his ligaments from aching, from the sharp pain he felt in places that he knew would later form gruesome bruises. The voice he hears from under the pile is familiar. Just his last name is so impersonal, something Leon has always disliked in his service as a knight. The hand that's reaching for him is a human's, and the quiet of the Hold in contrast to the literal hell of a chamber he'd been in prior to his arrival scares him in its unsettling tranquility. ]
[ He hesitates, disoriented, but eventually shifts and uncurls enough to take the hand Alucard has reached, its lack of warmth somehow comforting to touch. He's nearly unrecognizable when he rises from the ground, blond hair mussed by wet blood. Leon doesn't seem to see Alucard despite looking at him, his eyes clouded by the realization he's now somplace different. ]
"Leon is fine." [ Is what he says, wobbly. It's the same thing he said to Rinaldo, long before in response to such another impersonal calling. ]
[The response doesn't get anything from Alucard, nor does he discard his sword. What catches his attention is how heavy the scent of blood is, and that far too much of it is barely human. Alucard's eyes go down, trying to identify the points of injury, and after a few moments, giving up. The answer is probably too many places and that changes things considerably.
He doesn't move Leon far, that much Alucard remembers both of his parents always agreeing on if something called Lisa away from home. (It was an argument about her leaving the house versus the important principles that Dracula had taught as a part of the art of medicine.) All he does is guide Leon over towards the door that leads from the area with the staircase and the great big portrait of him into the Hold proper, down into rows upon rows of bookshelves and curiosity cabinets packed full of the strange.]
Don't move. I will return.
[It's a firm voice, one that brokers no argument and one that's soon gone. He's aware of how ridiculous floating in and out of the Hold looks, but proper medical equipment? That's not down there. That's in the castle, and Alucard knows he'll need books to guide his hand.]
[ Leon can only stagger so far as it is, what open wounds he has soaking the black fabric of his sleeves. He's took quite the beating from that monster, its strength far greater than even that of Walter Bernhard's. His ribs feel like they might pierce his organs as he struggles to breathe deeply through his nose. ]
"Thank you." [ Alucard is helping him. He's able to recognize the voice of who's found him even though he can hardly see through what's like a blanket of blind spots. His light-headedness causes him sway until the point that he has to hold onto one the railing of the staircase when his hand is let go of. ]
His mother had a large bag of medical supplies, the go bag for when she was needed outside of her clinic. Alucard knows where it is, but knowing where it is and getting over the emotion of it are two different things. (It is the reminder that these situations do not afford the luxury of time that causes him to get over that.) Finding the right medical books takes more effort though, as in the mess of the library, not everything is back to rights.
He's back in ten minutes though, which is definitely worthy of some praise, bag in one hand, a bucket of clean water in the other, and a travel bag slung over his back that is full of books, towels, and a few other things.]
Listen to me closely. I'm going to take out a towel for you to lay your head on, and then I will need to cut off clothing that you have on that happens to be around the injury site - that can't be helped, it's easier to cut them off than attempt to undress. The only thing I need from you right now is to tell me what areas are bleeding. If you can't speak, indicate with hands, and if not that a glance of the eyes will do.
"Yes." [ Shorter answers feel more appropriate. The rush of adrenaline is starting to fade, leaving Leon with only the heaviness of his own weight in a completely different time and place. His eyes look over Alucard's bags and the bucket, and then back to the painting of himself that he'd come flying through. ]
"It didn't make it through to this place, did it?" [ The Hold seems safe enough now, but... ] "—I'll have to go back in and kill it, Adrian. Please hurry." [ Resiliently. He swallows, and his mouth tastes bitter and metallic. Nothing about his body quite feels like it should, but there's no time to be wasted. The murals he'd seen of the Forgotten One were unable to be dismissed, and made it more than clear that the monster had posed an immediate threat. Getting rid of that thing is his responsibility now. ]
"Where's the whip?" [ It's still near the books he'd soiled, but he doesn't remember letting it leave his hand. ]
The whip is with the books. Forgive me if I don't consider it a priority right now, considering I can't handle it unless I'm wearing thick hide gloves.
[Even then, it hurt to handle, but Alucard could manage.]
Nothing came through beside yourself. As for the rest, whatever it is, it can wait. [It probably can't wait, but right now Leon is centuries ahead of the thing.
It is with a tired sigh that Alucard sets everything down, and he reaches into his bag. He's found a pair of older gloves to work with for now, and that'll have to be enough of a barrier. The scissors come out next, and they're placed down on the ground.]
"Right... okay." [ Compliant, Leon lowers himself to the ground to where the towel had been placed. The impending doom of the world on the other side of the portrait haunts him as he rests his head. He worries that his absence may undo the very fibers of the future in which he now exists. He looks not at Alucard's face, but at the long locks of hair that fall around it. ]
"My right shoulder, down to the forearm. Left thigh, from the hip bone to the knee." [ The main sources of his agony, aside from some perhaps now crooked ribs. ]
[ He shifts on the floor for a moment before offering a small, blue vial from somewhere in his coat. ] "Holy water. You can use it, so long as you're careful not to get it on yourself. I don't think I'll turn this way since whatever I was fighting wasn't a vampire, but we can't be too certain."
[Alucard takes the Holy Water, and he puts it aside for the time being.]
With all due respect, I can barely handle the stuff. I'll keep it away.
[It causes an allergice reaction and mild burns, but that's poor for doing the delicate work that this situation demands. Satisfied with the information on where the injuries are, Alucard reaches down, and takes the arm first.
He breathes out, then reaches for the scissors. The fabric needs to go. That's the truth of it.]
It'll be easier if you pass out for the duration of this. I can't promise gentleness.
"Do what you must." [ Leon's fingers curl into a fist as Alucard prepares to use the scissors on his sleeve. His eyes hesitantly lift to meet the other's gaze. ]
"I won't resist you. Tell me if I should need to handle anything with my own hands, as I'm unaware of what you can or cannot touch." [ He tries to keep his focus on the other's face, for if he should see the state of the gash on his arm, he may bring both of them too much alarm. ] "You've done this before?"
My parents were the doctors in this family. My interest lay elsewhere, beyond mastering the basics.
[Which isn't to say Alucard has no idea what he's doing, but the knowledge is very, very baseline.
He finishes cutting through the cloth, and what he sees is an absolute bloodied mess. A bloodied mess with white in it, suggesting that that's bone showing through. There's no hiding how he flinches, but that's all the moment Alucard takes to deal with it. Alucard reaches over for the bucket of water and clean towels, and he begins the work in earnest.
It's delicate work of course, demanding that he wash the wound out first, careful not to disturb the injury. A high demand, and he isn't sure he manages it well. There's alcohol in there to keep everything sterile. All Alucard knows is that it takes time to be delicate, and then he has to sew it all back up.
He doesn't speak to Leon through all of it. His head is down, using a steel needle that's been sterilized and every so often, having to refer to one of the books he's brought down with him. The pace nearly suggests he's treating it as embroidery, not surgery, fussing over details rather than getting blood flow to stop.
Sweat beads up on his face at some point. He moves onto the rest of the injuries, and by the time all is said and done, Alucard's drenched in his own sweat and nerves, unsure he's done everything right, but at least it's done.
Exhausted, he finally picks his head up to focus on the whole of Leon, not just his injuries.]
[ Leon's still tense, from the stinging and threading of the wound. The blood loss has left certain surreality to the scene, and though he'd seen the blurry figure above him tending to the injury sites, a lot of it still felt like a fever dream. His Adam's apple bobs once in his throat as he swallows, the realization the Alucard has finished with him beginning to sink in. Not once has he looked at the gashes, and yet the other man... ]
"I'm sorry." [ Though Leon hadn't thrashed or screamed (he'd done his best to limit himself to twisting and groaning), he feels bad for having shafted the task onto Alucard so suddenly. He's drenched in sweat himself, his body and clothing heavy. ]
"I should be nothing but grateful, as you remember me despite having returned to your time." [ He feels to weak to move, and waits for his head to come back down from wherever it'd headed. ]
[Alucard's washing his own hands now. Yes, he's had leather gloves on the entire time, but it is a matter of principle. His mother would haunt him for failing to do such a basic task.]
I'm amazed you're still conscious.
[That much is genuine. It is in fact some kind of weird miracle. Alucard's had to help Sypha with Trevor getting himself far more injured than he ought to before, and passing out was sometimes the best thing for everyone involved.]
What you should do is close your eyes and try to rest. I'll go get you blankets, given the damage sustained to your clothes.
"As am I." [ He'd endured similar undergoings times before, but the faintness he had felt promised a black out at any moment. Watching Alucard wash his hands reminds Leon of Mathias tending to him after a battle, and he turns his head the other way from unwanted allusion. There isn't room to try and understand vampire Dracula's pain, not after he'd had so many innocent lives stolen for the sake of some rock. As far as Leon was concerned, Mathias died alongside the man's humanity. ]
"You did wonderfully, though. I'll do as you say." [ He watches the portrait of himself. ] "It's strange to see my portrait here after I'm long dead." [ In a time without vampires, he thinks. But is that the case? ]
"Adrian, are there other creatures of the night to remain besides yourself? I'm unaware of vampirical politics, whether there are any others helping humans, but..." [ Perhaps he won't be told. ]
[Alucard's not asked Trevor much about the family that was murdered by the church. What they were like, what growing up in this home was like. It is a tender subject, and Alucard trusts that if Trevor ever wants to discuss it, he'll do so in his own time. But one thing is clear: stubbornness? That's genetic, it just manifests differently.
Towel in hand, Alucard dries off his hand, then rises to his feet. Blanket mission is much more important.]
That is...a complicated question. They have little love of me and the feeling is mutual. Many vampires on the level with my father have not survived. Others have kept their distance for any number of reasons. At the moment, I would advise you don't focus on something that trivial.
I'll be back shortly.
[Alucard's kept a small collection of pillows and blankets down in the Hold. Sypha has fallen asleep in there too many times for him not to, so all he does is walk over Leon's feet and go straight down into the Hold itself to retrieve the blanket.
He returns with a thick woolen thing, along with a feather pillow under his arm. This next part Alucard performs as impersonally as he can, sliding the towel out from under Leon's head and replacing it with the pillow, then draping the blanket over him entirely. With Trevor or Sypha, it'd be a far more tender action.]
[ Leon curls his abs so that the pillow can come under his head. He shifts beneath the newly attained blanket, some pain surging through his leg as he does. When he's settled under, he exhales, wondering if whether or not such questions had actually been so trivial. Sure, he had little ability to do anything with the affairs of this time, but his curiosity remained. ]
"Thank you." [ For the blanket and the pillow. ]
[ He wants to ask more questions, but feels that doing so is in direct defiance of not focusing on trivialities, so. ] "...After you returned here, Rinaldo wouldn't believe that I met with you in his cabin. He thought I made you up." [ He shuts his eyes, like he's trying to find enough peace to let himself sleep. ]
[This feels like the bare minimum of what should be done, all things considered. His father would not look kindly on providing any Belmont medical treatment, never mind the Belmont who began a centuries long hunt for his own life. Alucard's mother would have found some way to knock him out already and keep it that way for some time to come. Trevor, well, that's the point where everything in terms of trains of thought grow exhausting.]
I just told Trevor and Sypha that it was the weirdest dream. They agreed.
[A lot weird.]
Doesn't matter, in the end. I just hope that when you return to your own time, none of these injuries travel with you.
"I hope so, too. Assuming that thing is still there waiting for me, I'll need to be able to fight it without any kind of constraint. Maybe I should try and find my own journal here, so I know how to go about killing it."
[ But Trevor and Sypha? ] "...Trevor and Sypha must be your comrades? I'm glad that you've made friends. I imagine that being utterly alone as one of a kind would be difficult."
I can look that much up for you, although I'll need to wear several layers worth of gloves. The simple covers were later replaced with silver ones by one of your descendants. And that will be done later.
[Meaning Alucard leaves touching them to Trevor and Sypha most days. But there's firmness in Alucard's voice, the sort that hints that this kind of discussion is best saved for later on. When there isn't an injured Belmont to deal with.]
Trevor Belmont, one of your great-several-times-over grandsons.
You need to rest, not speculate or talk right now.
[ With Alucard not budging on talking, Leon is left with no distraction and reluctantly complies to rest. ]
[ A day of very little mobility passes, Leon keeping himself entertained by reading an entire anthology of monsters, complete with illustrations and descriptions. He's never been one for reading, far too restless with an attention span that always compels him anywhere besides the book. Only like this, confined to his makeshift bed, is he able to get through anything— and only by scanning the contents. When he's finished looking through the illustrations by an apparent later Belmont (no first names carry any weight), he feels his boredom suffocating himself. ]
[ His body may still be aching, but he doesn't care. He has to move, he's getting too stir crazy. ] [ Leon follows the sounds of Alucard sifting through unsorted books, careful not to be too loud in approaching him. His voice breaks the quiet, perhaps to the other's dismay. ]
"Allow me to help you? Surely I may lend a hand with something." [ Polite and mild, but still intrusive. ]
[While Leon sleeps, Alucard tries to evaluate the best thing to do in the situation. Laid out where he is is hardly appropriate, and yet the castle? The castle feels wrong. Like some ghost of Alucard's father will return from sheer rage at permitting Leon Belmont into the castle.
So Alucard makes a more comfortable space for Leon to rest in down in the Hold proper, beside the lectern where the index resides. There's a mattress underneath him, additional pillows, and blankets off to the side should more be needed. That's in addition to a pitcher of water and a glass, as well as Alucard sitting at a work bench beside the lectern, carefully cataloging recent additions that have been brought home by Trevor and Sypha.
He's gotten Leon books when he can. Illustrated, if only for the safety of future Belmonts. Touching the journals has been impossible, even with layers of gloves. It's still agony to handle them.
Alucard's putting some of the new books away when Leon finds him. His head snaps in Leon's direction, and it's accompanied with a deep set frown.]
You shouldn't even be up! [Alucard, in a sane moment, will realize that he shouldn't be surprised by this. Trevor's just as bad at the concept of resting while injured.] Go lie back down.
"I'm sorry but I—" [ How should one word this? He doesn't want Alucard mad at him, but... ] "I can't rest any longer. I'm afraid I've started to feel more unwell from lying still than from my wounds. In any case, I've endured worse than this many times before."
[ Mathias scolded him similarly, too. ] "...So what are you sorting now?" [ Leon ungracefully attempts to change the subject. ]
[NICE TRY LEON. Alucard's face becomes even harder set at the very casual approach to change the topic.]
You had exposed bone among those injuries. I don't care if you've endured worse, you're going back and resting. If you desire the presence of another person, very well, I'll move such things closer to myself, but you are not the church's Christ where you can rise from near death after only three days.
[ Leon's attempt backfires, and as Alucard lashes back at him with hard to hear reason, he can't look him in the eyes. He hasn't had anybody treat him so coldly in a while. He does, however, understand that the dhampir is speaking in his best interest, so defeated, he lets his head hang in his shame. ]
"I understand. If it's too much trouble, I shan't disturb you anymore." [ Alucard keeping him company is too childish a request, he feels guilty for having desired it. ]
[Alucard sighs, and he brings up one hand to his face to pinch his nose. He's overstepped and snapped, he knows that much. He gets up from where he's set up shop, and as he does so, he mutters more to himself than to Leon:]
Every Belmont is like this, I shouldn't be surprised.
[With that, he actually disappears off for a few moments, only to return with his arms full of blanketing and pillows. Those get plopped down next to the lectern, and Alucard disappears off again. When he returns, it's with a small sofa behind him.
Sypha needs comfy reading nooks, and so some of the castle's furniture got moved.
The sofa gets put next to Alucard's work space. Then there's the pile of sof things, before Alucard's attention returns to Leon.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
So to say that there is noise coming from near the entrance, something wet and meaty, that's unusual. The smell that goes with it is faint, as he's so very far down, but Alucard can pick it out as nothing good and--
fuck, the books. There's been a shelf there of texts he was going to take up with him tonight so they could enter the conversation queue. Whatever's there now has doubtlessly made his life harder.
Alucard is on his feet in a second, sword in hand. With no time to waste, he takes advantage of his natural speed, and...
...this is a scene that if Trevor was in Leon's place, he wouldn't blink twice. Getting gross stuff into the Hold by accident is far too normal. But no, he's looking at a man who by all rights is dead and has just fallen out of his own portrait, covered in effluvia and looking like absolute shit.
Yet all Alucard can manage is a tired sigh, and an intonation that is absolutely exhausted.]
Belmont.
[No hello, not even a what are you doing here. Just the surname, followed by:] Let's get you away from the books. They don't need any extra reasons to be repaired.
[Alucard walks over very cautiously, sword in one hand and the other outreached towards Leon.]
no subject
[ He hesitates, disoriented, but eventually shifts and uncurls enough to take the hand Alucard has reached, its lack of warmth somehow comforting to touch. He's nearly unrecognizable when he rises from the ground, blond hair mussed by wet blood. Leon doesn't seem to see Alucard despite looking at him, his eyes clouded by the realization he's now somplace different. ]
"Leon is fine." [ Is what he says, wobbly. It's the same thing he said to Rinaldo, long before in response to such another impersonal calling. ]
no subject
He doesn't move Leon far, that much Alucard remembers both of his parents always agreeing on if something called Lisa away from home. (It was an argument about her leaving the house versus the important principles that Dracula had taught as a part of the art of medicine.) All he does is guide Leon over towards the door that leads from the area with the staircase and the great big portrait of him into the Hold proper, down into rows upon rows of bookshelves and curiosity cabinets packed full of the strange.]
Don't move. I will return.
[It's a firm voice, one that brokers no argument and one that's soon gone. He's aware of how ridiculous floating in and out of the Hold looks, but proper medical equipment? That's not down there. That's in the castle, and Alucard knows he'll need books to guide his hand.]
no subject
"Thank you." [ Alucard is helping him. He's able to recognize the voice of who's found him even though he can hardly see through what's like a blanket of blind spots. His light-headedness causes him sway until the point that he has to hold onto one the railing of the staircase when his hand is let go of. ]
no subject
Well. Sort of.
His mother had a large bag of medical supplies, the go bag for when she was needed outside of her clinic. Alucard knows where it is, but knowing where it is and getting over the emotion of it are two different things. (It is the reminder that these situations do not afford the luxury of time that causes him to get over that.) Finding the right medical books takes more effort though, as in the mess of the library, not everything is back to rights.
He's back in ten minutes though, which is definitely worthy of some praise, bag in one hand, a bucket of clean water in the other, and a travel bag slung over his back that is full of books, towels, and a few other things.]
Listen to me closely. I'm going to take out a towel for you to lay your head on, and then I will need to cut off clothing that you have on that happens to be around the injury site - that can't be helped, it's easier to cut them off than attempt to undress. The only thing I need from you right now is to tell me what areas are bleeding. If you can't speak, indicate with hands, and if not that a glance of the eyes will do.
Do you understand?
no subject
"It didn't make it through to this place, did it?" [ The Hold seems safe enough now, but... ] "—I'll have to go back in and kill it, Adrian. Please hurry." [ Resiliently. He swallows, and his mouth tastes bitter and metallic. Nothing about his body quite feels like it should, but there's no time to be wasted. The murals he'd seen of the Forgotten One were unable to be dismissed, and made it more than clear that the monster had posed an immediate threat. Getting rid of that thing is his responsibility now. ]
"Where's the whip?" [ It's still near the books he'd soiled, but he doesn't remember letting it leave his hand. ]
no subject
[Even then, it hurt to handle, but Alucard could manage.]
Nothing came through beside yourself. As for the rest, whatever it is, it can wait. [It probably can't wait, but right now Leon is centuries ahead of the thing.
It is with a tired sigh that Alucard sets everything down, and he reaches into his bag. He's found a pair of older gloves to work with for now, and that'll have to be enough of a barrier. The scissors come out next, and they're placed down on the ground.]
Wounds. Indicate where they are.
no subject
"My right shoulder, down to the forearm. Left thigh, from the hip bone to the knee." [ The main sources of his agony, aside from some perhaps now crooked ribs. ]
[ He shifts on the floor for a moment before offering a small, blue vial from somewhere in his coat. ]
"Holy water. You can use it, so long as you're careful not to get it on yourself. I don't think I'll turn this way since whatever I was fighting wasn't a vampire, but we can't be too certain."
no subject
With all due respect, I can barely handle the stuff. I'll keep it away.
[It causes an allergice reaction and mild burns, but that's poor for doing the delicate work that this situation demands. Satisfied with the information on where the injuries are, Alucard reaches down, and takes the arm first.
He breathes out, then reaches for the scissors. The fabric needs to go. That's the truth of it.]
It'll be easier if you pass out for the duration of this. I can't promise gentleness.
no subject
"I won't resist you. Tell me if I should need to handle anything with my own hands, as I'm unaware of what you can or cannot touch."
[ He tries to keep his focus on the other's face, for if he should see the state of the gash on his arm, he may bring both of them too much alarm. ] "You've done this before?"
no subject
[Which isn't to say Alucard has no idea what he's doing, but the knowledge is very, very baseline.
He finishes cutting through the cloth, and what he sees is an absolute bloodied mess. A bloodied mess with white in it, suggesting that that's bone showing through. There's no hiding how he flinches, but that's all the moment Alucard takes to deal with it. Alucard reaches over for the bucket of water and clean towels, and he begins the work in earnest.
It's delicate work of course, demanding that he wash the wound out first, careful not to disturb the injury. A high demand, and he isn't sure he manages it well. There's alcohol in there to keep everything sterile. All Alucard knows is that it takes time to be delicate, and then he has to sew it all back up.
He doesn't speak to Leon through all of it. His head is down, using a steel needle that's been sterilized and every so often, having to refer to one of the books he's brought down with him. The pace nearly suggests he's treating it as embroidery, not surgery, fussing over details rather than getting blood flow to stop.
Sweat beads up on his face at some point. He moves onto the rest of the injuries, and by the time all is said and done, Alucard's drenched in his own sweat and nerves, unsure he's done everything right, but at least it's done.
Exhausted, he finally picks his head up to focus on the whole of Leon, not just his injuries.]
That's the whole of it. We're done.
no subject
"I'm sorry." [ Though Leon hadn't thrashed or screamed (he'd done his best to limit himself to twisting and groaning), he feels bad for having shafted the task onto Alucard so suddenly. He's drenched in sweat himself, his body and clothing heavy. ]
"I should be nothing but grateful, as you remember me despite having returned to your time."
[ He feels to weak to move, and waits for his head to come back down from wherever it'd headed. ]
no subject
I'm amazed you're still conscious.
[That much is genuine. It is in fact some kind of weird miracle. Alucard's had to help Sypha with Trevor getting himself far more injured than he ought to before, and passing out was sometimes the best thing for everyone involved.]
What you should do is close your eyes and try to rest. I'll go get you blankets, given the damage sustained to your clothes.
no subject
"You did wonderfully, though. I'll do as you say." [ He watches the portrait of himself. ]
"It's strange to see my portrait here after I'm long dead." [ In a time without vampires, he thinks. But is that the case? ]
"Adrian, are there other creatures of the night to remain besides yourself? I'm unaware of vampirical politics, whether there are any others helping humans, but..."
[ Perhaps he won't be told. ]
no subject
[Alucard's not asked Trevor much about the family that was murdered by the church. What they were like, what growing up in this home was like. It is a tender subject, and Alucard trusts that if Trevor ever wants to discuss it, he'll do so in his own time. But one thing is clear: stubbornness? That's genetic, it just manifests differently.
Towel in hand, Alucard dries off his hand, then rises to his feet. Blanket mission is much more important.]
That is...a complicated question. They have little love of me and the feeling is mutual. Many vampires on the level with my father have not survived. Others have kept their distance for any number of reasons. At the moment, I would advise you don't focus on something that trivial.
I'll be back shortly.
[Alucard's kept a small collection of pillows and blankets down in the Hold. Sypha has fallen asleep in there too many times for him not to, so all he does is walk over Leon's feet and go straight down into the Hold itself to retrieve the blanket.
He returns with a thick woolen thing, along with a feather pillow under his arm. This next part Alucard performs as impersonally as he can, sliding the towel out from under Leon's head and replacing it with the pillow, then draping the blanket over him entirely. With Trevor or Sypha, it'd be a far more tender action.]
no subject
"Thank you." [ For the blanket and the pillow. ]
[ He wants to ask more questions, but feels that doing so is in direct defiance of not focusing on trivialities, so. ]
"...After you returned here, Rinaldo wouldn't believe that I met with you in his cabin. He thought I made you up." [ He shuts his eyes, like he's trying to find enough peace to let himself sleep. ]
no subject
[This feels like the bare minimum of what should be done, all things considered. His father would not look kindly on providing any Belmont medical treatment, never mind the Belmont who began a centuries long hunt for his own life. Alucard's mother would have found some way to knock him out already and keep it that way for some time to come. Trevor, well, that's the point where everything in terms of trains of thought grow exhausting.]
I just told Trevor and Sypha that it was the weirdest dream. They agreed.
[A lot weird.]
Doesn't matter, in the end. I just hope that when you return to your own time, none of these injuries travel with you.
no subject
[ But Trevor and Sypha? ]
"...Trevor and Sypha must be your comrades? I'm glad that you've made friends. I imagine that being utterly alone as one of a kind would be difficult."
no subject
[Meaning Alucard leaves touching them to Trevor and Sypha most days. But there's firmness in Alucard's voice, the sort that hints that this kind of discussion is best saved for later on. When there isn't an injured Belmont to deal with.]
Trevor Belmont, one of your great-several-times-over grandsons.
You need to rest, not speculate or talk right now.
no subject
[ A day of very little mobility passes, Leon keeping himself entertained by reading an entire anthology of monsters, complete with illustrations and descriptions. He's never been one for reading, far too restless with an attention span that always compels him anywhere besides the book. Only like this, confined to his makeshift bed, is he able to get through anything— and only by scanning the contents. When he's finished looking through the illustrations by an apparent later Belmont (no first names carry any weight), he feels his boredom suffocating himself. ]
[ His body may still be aching, but he doesn't care. He has to move, he's getting too stir crazy. ]
[ Leon follows the sounds of Alucard sifting through unsorted books, careful not to be too loud in approaching him. His voice breaks the quiet, perhaps to the other's dismay. ]
"Allow me to help you? Surely I may lend a hand with something." [ Polite and mild, but still intrusive. ]
no subject
So Alucard makes a more comfortable space for Leon to rest in down in the Hold proper, beside the lectern where the index resides. There's a mattress underneath him, additional pillows, and blankets off to the side should more be needed. That's in addition to a pitcher of water and a glass, as well as Alucard sitting at a work bench beside the lectern, carefully cataloging recent additions that have been brought home by Trevor and Sypha.
He's gotten Leon books when he can. Illustrated, if only for the safety of future Belmonts. Touching the journals has been impossible, even with layers of gloves. It's still agony to handle them.
Alucard's putting some of the new books away when Leon finds him. His head snaps in Leon's direction, and it's accompanied with a deep set frown.]
You shouldn't even be up! [Alucard, in a sane moment, will realize that he shouldn't be surprised by this. Trevor's just as bad at the concept of resting while injured.] Go lie back down.
no subject
[ Mathias scolded him similarly, too. ]
"...So what are you sorting now?" [ Leon ungracefully attempts to change the subject. ]
no subject
You had exposed bone among those injuries. I don't care if you've endured worse, you're going back and resting. If you desire the presence of another person, very well, I'll move such things closer to myself, but you are not the church's Christ where you can rise from near death after only three days.
no subject
"I understand. If it's too much trouble, I shan't disturb you anymore."
[ Alucard keeping him company is too childish a request, he feels guilty for having desired it. ]
no subject
Every Belmont is like this, I shouldn't be surprised.
[With that, he actually disappears off for a few moments, only to return with his arms full of blanketing and pillows. Those get plopped down next to the lectern, and Alucard disappears off again. When he returns, it's with a small sofa behind him.
Sypha needs comfy reading nooks, and so some of the castle's furniture got moved.
The sofa gets put next to Alucard's work space. Then there's the pile of sof things, before Alucard's attention returns to Leon.]
Is this an acceptable compromise?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)