[For all that Trevor is skilled at working under pressure, they both know it's entirely ad-libbed and a large bit of stupid luck that pulls him through most situations. Call it divine protection. He's not so keen to test that theory now.
There'd been another street-level exit somewhere around here, he was sure of it. If only he had a moment to stop and get his bearings, he might be able to pick out the intersection that would lead them to it. They don't have the luxury to stop and think. Thankfully, he's not even stopping to pick up the coins at each passage split. If only he could remember, there's some demarcation, some--]
There!
[As they round the next corner into a new intersection, they find the passage to their far-right flanked by two gilded skulls. While skulls aren't unusual for catacombs, golden skulls are, and Trevor thought it was strange when he came upon them earlier, until he realized the passage was an exit. It made more sense then, and he should have filed the information away as important, but he'd almost forgotten.
Sure enough, the passage leads them to a crumbling staircase, and Trevor takes them three at a time, still holding tightly to Adrian's wrist.]
[Being behind Trevor while floating feels a little like being a balloon being tugged along. It's a ridiculous thought as they flee, the catacombs moving past htem faster and faster. That the Belmont isn't keen to turn and fight is something Alucard is thankful for. Neither of them is ready to deal with that yet.
That Trevor finds a closer exit to the one Alucard used is a real miracle. Whizzing past the gilded skulls (super weird, but also for later), Alucard takes a single moment to tilt his head back to try and see if they're being followed. Somehow, the movement has stopped at just the skulls, but that doesn't exactly fill him with relief.
There's a goddamn basilisk under Bucharest, and they just became it's new worst enemy.]
You can let go, I think there's boundaries it can't cross--!
[Famous last words, but the door. They're at the door, or the cover, or whatever it is that allows for free passage in and out of the catacombs.]
[The catacombs are remarkably easy to access; the wrought-iron gates are all old and poorly maintained, and this one bursts open the moment Trevor slams his shoulder into it, screeching and crashing on rusty hinges to grant them access to the stone-walled set of stairs that would lead them up to the main thoroughfare above.
Trevor finally skids to a halt when they're through, and gives one last glare to the darkness behind them before slamming the gate shut and sagging back against the wall.]
Fuck!
[Trevor's panting, struggling for breath as his legs threaten to give out beneath him, exhausted from a full day worth of stalking the catacombs coupled with that mad sprint for an exit.
Trevor realizes a beat or two later, he's still holding Adrian's wrist in a nearly white-knuckled grip. It loosens immediately, and he smoothes his thumb apologetically over the dhampir's skin before dropping his hands entirely.]
Why does every damned monster want to turn us to fucking stone?
[They look a mess as they burst above ground. It's a blessing that it's dark out, the street not terribly busy and many a light off in the homes that line the street. Alucard knows that if it was daylight, they'd be in fine trouble indeed.
Such as it is, he takes care to put the cover of the catacomb entrance back to where it was the moment that Trevor releases his hand. He can't trust that whatever is below ground won't come back up, but for now, they have to leave it be.
Alucard glances down at his hand. The mark from Trevor's grip is already fading. It's tempting to reach over and take Trevor's hand again, but...public.]
We attract a cetain type of beast, I suppose.
[He says it darkly, no humor to his voice.]
That thing has our scent now. When we return, we need to mask it.
[Mask it. Trevor can't fathom how that will work exactly, but the panic is slow to ebb. Perhaps better sense would present itself with a clear mind. Or perhaps he'd just let Adrian worry about that part.
It takes a few moments for his breath to slow. In the meantime, he self-consciously readjusts his cape, warily eyeing the top of the staircase for interlopers. And he's bracing himself for the admonishment that he knows is on the horizon. Of all the stupid moves... Wouldn't have happened if you'd just... Are you satisfied now... When will you stop...
Trevor waves his hand vaguely, as if that will ward off Adrian's venom, and takes his bowler from its place at his belt. Fashion may dictate a certain decorum, but expensive hats were impractical when ducking beneath the low ceilings of an endless crypt, so he'd stowed it beneath his cape while he explored the catacombs. He's amazed it hadn't flown off in the fray.]
Well. [Trevor grins as he brushes back his hair and carefully replaces his bowler.] I'd say that went fairly well.
[Alucard's tone is unhappy, but it doesn't border into disappointed. Not really, because Alucard suspects that anything he says will be nothing in comparison to what Trevor is thinking.
He pauses, readjusting his gloves and then his far too askew tie, before looking to Trevor.]
I think I triggered it after I stuck my nose through the bars. Cab home, or do you want to walk?
[If Trevor's estimation of their location is anything to go by...]
We're not far. A few blocks, I think. Let's walk.
[It seems like a sensible decision, pleasant as the night has turned. Early autumn has ushered in a cooler breeze without the bite that will follow later in the season. Trevor's never particularly minded the cold, but their home is ever-so-slightly more enjoyable with the windows open to the fall breeze.
When they can be open. The manor is wrapped tight in enchantments and protection spells, but for some reason Trevor's never understood, those magicks don't extend to open fucking windows. There's some manner of mystic symbolism surrounding it, he's sure. But with these forged creatures about, Sypha and Adrian have insisted it's safer to keep the house shuttered. At least at night.
Trevor leads their way up the stone staircase and onto the cobbled side street, still stubbornly picking apart the whole window conundrum as the start toward home.]
Do you really think they'd come in the house if we opened a window tonight? That one couldn't even leave the catacombs. Surely...
[It's piss-poor bargaining, even for Trevor. But a man needs a certain amount of fresh air in his life, and Trevor's being woefully deprived his nightly doses.]
[The cab is to let them sit and breathe, but Alucard isn't in a mood to argue. Oh yes, the autumn air is cooling after all the running and floating, but being out in the open at the moment makes the dhampir very, very nervous.
It doesn't show though, not as he carries himself with the usual dignity and decorum he always has. Alucard is far too skilled at walking down the street and keeping the world at arm's length, and it has often proven to be a thing he struggles to shed at home.
Home.
At least home will be safe, cloaked in his wards and Sypha's.]
I don't want to risk it. The thing in the catacombs may not be able to leave, but other things might.
[It's a terrible risk. One that tonight Alucard really doesn't want to deal with tonight.]
[Trevor takes a moment to get his bearings, then hooks right and leads them down a different side street. He's got a decent sense of direction, for whatever that's worth in the middle of the city. It's more useful in the wilderness -- in fact, most of Trevor's skills are more useful in the wilderness -- but they haven't seen fit to travel in quite some time. More's the pity; Adrian is a vision in riding leathers.
Trevor's told him as much, but it only ever earns him a scathing glare. Really, Adrian needs to learn how to take a compliment.
The silence has stretched on half a block before Trevor picks up on it, and decides it's the uncomfortable kind rather than the companionable kind. He glances around to ensure their solitude (it's an empty street, no real risk of being found out), then hangs back to lean close to Adrian. Close enough, at least, that his hat brim brushes Adrian's hair when he murmurs sincerely:]
Thank you for coming to look for me. I appreciate your concern, and I would have done the same for you.
[They all know the city as well as they know each other at this point. Trevor's natural tracking skills, Alucard's vampire abilities include hunting, and Speaker knowledge means none of them can truly be lost. It is nice, however, to give up the need to navigate and let Trevor do that, for in Alucard's silence there is constant worry.
Whatever is below in the catacombs is a threat. That's always been known and obvious, but never truly addressed. Now though, now they've given away their curiosity and greater things might come knocking on the surface. It may not only target the three of them.
It isn't until Trevor's practically up against him that Alucard is pulled out of his thoughts even somewhat, and it's only because Trevor's hat has met his hair.]
Honestly, I suspect that it was a 50-50 chance of which one of us would have been the first down there.
[In better circumstances, he might say it with more cheer. Such as it is, Alucard's tone is grim.]
I'm lighting warding fires in all the fireplaces when we get in as a safety precaution. It'll protect the whole block, not just us.
[If Trevor wanted to know where the dhampir's mind was, well...]
{All business, then. Of course. And while Trevor hasn't the faintest idea what the creation of a warding fire might entail, he'll try his hand at it anyway. Anything to feel like he's actually doing something in the face of all this magic being thrown around. Perhaps that's part of what brought him to the catacombs in the first place.
Whatever helps Adrian to feel better about the whole probably-forged basilisk beneath their feet thing, which--
Admittedly, it is a little worrying. Not that he'll be in a panic barring the doors and windows, but perhaps sleep will be a bit harder-won tonight. His machismo will allow for no more.]
Can I help?
[It's all he can offer, really. Because if this is one of those snap your fingers to make magickal fire appear tricks, then he's better off sitting back and letting Adrian handle it.]
If I do the spellwork, you can set the fire itself. Sypha had to modify it for me since I'm no where near her skill level.
[Being outclassed by Sypha with magic is absolutely normal, just as her developing a million spells that are second nature for her becomes a nightmare for anyone else trying to copy the work.
He sighs, tugging his coat a little tighter around him. It's a gesture that speaks to how heavy with worry his head is, and how much he wants to get home.]
We'll have to create a fight plan come morning. Take care of this problem immediately.
[Building fires. That's deceptively simple, but Trevor won't argue its simplicity. Even if it is every damned hearth in the house. Do they even have that much firewood left? If not, he's sure some of their expensive furniture will burn nicely. The ugly floral couch in Sypha's work room. The offensively opulent pearl-inlaid vanity in the second-floor drawing room. Perhaps they can even recruit some old tomes from the Belmont vault to the effort.
Trevor's never been strictly pyromanic, but the notion is suddenly tempting...
Around the next corner, home is in sight just ahead of them, and it's a relief to see it still standing. Judging by Adrian's uptight aura, Trevor half-expected the house to be overrun by demons already.]
Simple enough. The fires, the plan. We'll be fine. [Trevor's words are terse at first, but his voice softens as it lowers.] And need I remind you, you and I are a force to be reckoned with? Don't worry so much. We're not the useless nobility we look.
[It's a noncommital nosie that makes it clear Alucard doesn't believe it for a second. He just speeds the approach home with all due haste, and he runs his fingers over the lock on the door. The mechanisms click, and the small foyer opens.
The truth is that the house is perfectly modest given what Alucard is and the nobility of Trevor's own parentage. He's put little effort into decorating, but anything that is in the house is cozy. Warm. There are furs, there are plush sofas in the drawing and living rooms, and the attempt is to keep it comfortable even as it is a fortress.]
Lock the door behind you, please?
[He's already heading to the living room, eyes locked on the hearth.]
[Trevor does as he's asked, and latches the deadbolt as soon as they're inside. It seems they've reached the brick wall portion of the evening, and while Trevor admires Adrian's determination, it doesn't make for very stimulating conversation. Which would be fine, if not for the fact that Trevor never could stand the silence.]
Between you and Sypha enchanting the hell out of this place, and a professional monster hunter living on-premises, do you really think they'd be stupid enough to try and send one in here?
[Trevor follows Adrian to the living room and kneels beside the hearth, tossing his gloves on the hearthstones before he starts situating logs in the firebox.]
Or is that giving them too much credit?
[Even this early in the season, they thankfully have decent kindling. He has the logs caught before long, whereupon he steps back and motions for Adrian to do his part.]
[While Trevor disappears to wrangle the oven, Alucard stands over the flames as best he can. One hand (his left) remains outstretched, and the words he murmurs are some old Enochian dialect that Sypha has found best suited to this task. He falls silent, waves his hand clockwise then counter-clockwise over the flame, and then withdraws.
The flames glow an eerie green, and a white puff of smoke moves up the chimney. Good. It's taken.
[Trevor noticed, but he hadn't considered them to be anything of importance until Adrian mentioned them just now. He'd just taken them for markers to the exit passages, but stopping to consider it again, perhaps they are something a trifle more significant.]
Do you think they have something to do with the forged creatures?
[Trevor pauses to glance over his shoulder to Adrian, then continues his work until he has a fire stoked in the oven as well. He leaves Adrian to his magicks with the oven, and moves on to the hearth in the parlor.
It makes sense, really. Not that he's questioning Adrian's judgment at this juncture, but it's rather easy to jump to conclusions when one is nervous, as the dhampir clearly is. But it stands to reason that the skulls are some manner of delineation. Trevor can't remember, wracking his brain though he is; he's no expert on forgemaster magicks, but perhaps there's something in the vault.]
Are you familiar with forgemaster magicks? I can't recall anything about gold marking a boundary, but--
I don't know. I had hope you had the chance to investigate before I got down there. They're far newer, and it shows in an ancient space like the catacombs.
[Alucard walks into the kitchen next, repeating the process. He sighs when he finishes, then walks over to the parlor's hearth. He's standing side Trevor, still tugging at the coat (he hasn't taken his off) like that will help him warm up.
It won't. He'll take one of the fur blankets and use that once all is done.]
I'm not. But gold doesn't just have to be a forgemaster trick, does it? Alchemists and spellcasters might be able to take advantage of it, and if our forgemaster has skills there...[They're fucked.]
[That's a sobering thought, also one he hadn't considered until Adrian mentioned it. Hell, if their cozy little forgemaster problem has an alchemical element to it, that complicates things quite a bit. It expands the realm of possibilities, if nothing else.
But Adrian's fidgeting again, and his nerves are starting to wear on Trevor. It's like dancing the knife's edge when he's like this, and Trevor's never cared much for that brand of anxiety. Fire built, he extends his hands to Adrian, briefly waving his fingers in beckon.]
Let me have your coat. I'll put it up, and then I'll start on the second-floor hearths.
[Sypha could have looked at the damn things and instantly understood what they were and, moreover, how to deal with the problem. She's the brains of the operation with understanding, Trevor's the brains when it comes to tactics. It's a reminder of why they work best when there's three around, rather than two.]
But it could be to our advantage. Go down only once and not come back, like this was all some kind of exploratory mistake gone wrong.
[They're words more to himself than to Trevor and--
Oh. Fingers. Moving. Trevor has caught Alucard's attention. The dhampir makes an embarrassed noise before he shrugs off his coat.]
[Was it not an exploratory mistake gone wrong? Trevor's not sure who they're fooling here, but--
He offers Adrian a knowing eyeroll, and nods as he carefully drapes Adrian's coat over his arm and proceeds upstairs. Oddly, he's familiar enough with Adrian's routine to know where the missing coat should fit in his closet, and he replaces it in the likeliest-looking spot (careful to brush out the shoulders as Adrian would want) before continuing on duties.
Golden skulls. Something about it still nags at him, try as he might to ignore the way it tugs at his awareness. It will come to him, in time. Probably at precisely the wrong moment and two days too late, if past experience is anything to go by.]
Hell, there's nothing subtle about it, is there?
[Trevor's mumbling to himself as he finally gets the fire started in Adrian's hearth, and he stands after the task is accomplished. Stares, as if the fire will give him any sodding clue. It doesn't, but he's certain he's starting to smell of woodsmoke, and he can use a moment's respite from that, if nothing else.]
[Alucard lingers in front of the fire for a little while longer, appreciating the heat. Oh yes, the house has actual heating that he can control, but there's something about an actual fire that is a true comfort in a way that just being warm isn't.
Nothing about this is right, but the particulars for the reason of right or wrong is absolutely beyond the dhampir. He doesn't like it, not one single bit, and there's an aggravated sigh as he finally peels off his gloves. His hands are warm enough now, thanks to the fire and their wool lining.
Heading up, he goes to his room first. It's the room he uses least, and that's reflected in the sparse decor and the general stillness of the place. Alucard has long since found himself happier in Sypha's or Trevor's beds, and he's awaiting a commissioned bedframe meant to hold all three of them without any sort of overcrowding. The upstairs parlor will be the bedroom, when all is said and done, and the three separate rooms kept for when one needs space alone.
He walks over to the hearth, cool hands resting on Trevor's shoulder.]
I'll start on dinner, when this is done. I don't suspect you've eaten all day, have you?
Not since breakfast, but don't worry yourself. I'd rather a bath.
[After stalking the catacombs all day, he swears he can still feel the cobwebs in his hair. And perhaps it's all psychological, but that musty, earthy stench seems to be clinging to his coat.
And it doesn't occur to him that he could have both. That he could possibly bathe and then eat, but taking care of himself has never been his strong suit if alcohol isn't involved. Case in point, he'd fully intended to have a liquid dinner until Adrian mentioned dinner, and -- vile betrayer -- Trevor's stomach gives an involuntary grumbly whine at the notion. No chance it would allow him to refuse Adrian's cooking.]
Of course, if you're making something anyway...
{Trevor presses a kiss to the hand on his shoulder, and moves onto the hearth in Sypha's room.]
But he'd rather cook. It relaxes him, going through the motions. Making sure that there's something creative made of frustrations, and then it fills a true need. It's alchemy in it's way, and it feels like a magic that, if not in par with Sypha's, is at least something of Alucard's own.]
I'll go get started, and finish the last of the wards when I'm done.
[Alucard can hear your stomach, Trevor. It's a reminder of how long the day has been, just as the kiss to his hand is a reminder that Alucard's worry is becoming far too much.
He withdraws to the kitchen. Fills a pot with water and a few herbs and a lemon, and puts it all to boil while the chicken in the refrigerator is brought out and butterflied. Alucard knows his kitchen benefits from all of Dracula's advanced technology, putting it a century ahead of all other kitchens in London.
Poached chicken breast isn't much. Steamed carrots isn't anything very special. But it comes together quickly, and Alucard knows that the fires will be lit long before he's done cooking.
That's fine. He sits at the table in the kitchen, focusing on the rosemary permeating the room. Good. It helps. It distracts.]
[It's almost an afterthought, called after Adrian when he leaves Trevor to his own devices again. He's been a flurry of nervous energy since they left the catacombs, and while Trevor doesn't blame him for it, he also knows Adrian has a tendency to wear himself thin when he's like this.
After dinner, after whatever wards are left to be placed, Trevor resolves to get Adrian out of his own head. Whatever form that takes, Trevor will dedicate himself to the task with all due diligence.
The remaining fires are built with Trevor still idling in a state of preoccupation. The golden skulls problem still tugs at something long-buried in his memory, and trying to wrench it free is an exercise in (frustrating) futility. He's not certain how he can even smell rosemary over all the firewood currently burning in the manor, but his stomach loudly protests again, and he begrudgingly decides to put off the bath until after they've eaten.
He joins Adrian in the kitchen shortly thereafter, thankfully bereft his hat and cape. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[For all that Trevor is skilled at working under pressure, they both know it's entirely ad-libbed and a large bit of stupid luck that pulls him through most situations. Call it divine protection. He's not so keen to test that theory now.
There'd been another street-level exit somewhere around here, he was sure of it. If only he had a moment to stop and get his bearings, he might be able to pick out the intersection that would lead them to it. They don't have the luxury to stop and think. Thankfully, he's not even stopping to pick up the coins at each passage split. If only he could remember, there's some demarcation, some--]
There!
[As they round the next corner into a new intersection, they find the passage to their far-right flanked by two gilded skulls. While skulls aren't unusual for catacombs, golden skulls are, and Trevor thought it was strange when he came upon them earlier, until he realized the passage was an exit. It made more sense then, and he should have filed the information away as important, but he'd almost forgotten.
Sure enough, the passage leads them to a crumbling staircase, and Trevor takes them three at a time, still holding tightly to Adrian's wrist.]
no subject
That Trevor finds a closer exit to the one Alucard used is a real miracle. Whizzing past the gilded skulls (super weird, but also for later), Alucard takes a single moment to tilt his head back to try and see if they're being followed. Somehow, the movement has stopped at just the skulls, but that doesn't exactly fill him with relief.
There's a goddamn basilisk under Bucharest, and they just became it's new worst enemy.]
You can let go, I think there's boundaries it can't cross--!
[Famous last words, but the door. They're at the door, or the cover, or whatever it is that allows for free passage in and out of the catacombs.]
no subject
Trevor finally skids to a halt when they're through, and gives one last glare to the darkness behind them before slamming the gate shut and sagging back against the wall.]
Fuck!
[Trevor's panting, struggling for breath as his legs threaten to give out beneath him, exhausted from a full day worth of stalking the catacombs coupled with that mad sprint for an exit.
Trevor realizes a beat or two later, he's still holding Adrian's wrist in a nearly white-knuckled grip. It loosens immediately, and he smoothes his thumb apologetically over the dhampir's skin before dropping his hands entirely.]
Why does every damned monster want to turn us to fucking stone?
no subject
Such as it is, he takes care to put the cover of the catacomb entrance back to where it was the moment that Trevor releases his hand. He can't trust that whatever is below ground won't come back up, but for now, they have to leave it be.
Alucard glances down at his hand. The mark from Trevor's grip is already fading. It's tempting to reach over and take Trevor's hand again, but...public.]
We attract a cetain type of beast, I suppose.
[He says it darkly, no humor to his voice.]
That thing has our scent now. When we return, we need to mask it.
no subject
It takes a few moments for his breath to slow. In the meantime, he self-consciously readjusts his cape, warily eyeing the top of the staircase for interlopers. And he's bracing himself for the admonishment that he knows is on the horizon. Of all the stupid moves... Wouldn't have happened if you'd just... Are you satisfied now... When will you stop...
Trevor waves his hand vaguely, as if that will ward off Adrian's venom, and takes his bowler from its place at his belt. Fashion may dictate a certain decorum, but expensive hats were impractical when ducking beneath the low ceilings of an endless crypt, so he'd stowed it beneath his cape while he explored the catacombs. He's amazed it hadn't flown off in the fray.]
Well. [Trevor grins as he brushes back his hair and carefully replaces his bowler.] I'd say that went fairly well.
no subject
[Alucard's tone is unhappy, but it doesn't border into disappointed. Not really, because Alucard suspects that anything he says will be nothing in comparison to what Trevor is thinking.
He pauses, readjusting his gloves and then his far too askew tie, before looking to Trevor.]
I think I triggered it after I stuck my nose through the bars. Cab home, or do you want to walk?
no subject
We're not far. A few blocks, I think. Let's walk.
[It seems like a sensible decision, pleasant as the night has turned. Early autumn has ushered in a cooler breeze without the bite that will follow later in the season. Trevor's never particularly minded the cold, but their home is ever-so-slightly more enjoyable with the windows open to the fall breeze.
When they can be open. The manor is wrapped tight in enchantments and protection spells, but for some reason Trevor's never understood, those magicks don't extend to open fucking windows. There's some manner of mystic symbolism surrounding it, he's sure. But with these forged creatures about, Sypha and Adrian have insisted it's safer to keep the house shuttered. At least at night.
Trevor leads their way up the stone staircase and onto the cobbled side street, still stubbornly picking apart the whole window conundrum as the start toward home.]
Do you really think they'd come in the house if we opened a window tonight? That one couldn't even leave the catacombs. Surely...
[It's piss-poor bargaining, even for Trevor. But a man needs a certain amount of fresh air in his life, and Trevor's being woefully deprived his nightly doses.]
no subject
[The cab is to let them sit and breathe, but Alucard isn't in a mood to argue. Oh yes, the autumn air is cooling after all the running and floating, but being out in the open at the moment makes the dhampir very, very nervous.
It doesn't show though, not as he carries himself with the usual dignity and decorum he always has. Alucard is far too skilled at walking down the street and keeping the world at arm's length, and it has often proven to be a thing he struggles to shed at home.
Home.
At least home will be safe, cloaked in his wards and Sypha's.]
I don't want to risk it. The thing in the catacombs may not be able to leave, but other things might.
[It's a terrible risk. One that tonight Alucard really doesn't want to deal with tonight.]
no subject
[Trevor takes a moment to get his bearings, then hooks right and leads them down a different side street. He's got a decent sense of direction, for whatever that's worth in the middle of the city. It's more useful in the wilderness -- in fact, most of Trevor's skills are more useful in the wilderness -- but they haven't seen fit to travel in quite some time. More's the pity; Adrian is a vision in riding leathers.
Trevor's told him as much, but it only ever earns him a scathing glare. Really, Adrian needs to learn how to take a compliment.
The silence has stretched on half a block before Trevor picks up on it, and decides it's the uncomfortable kind rather than the companionable kind. He glances around to ensure their solitude (it's an empty street, no real risk of being found out), then hangs back to lean close to Adrian. Close enough, at least, that his hat brim brushes Adrian's hair when he murmurs sincerely:]
Thank you for coming to look for me. I appreciate your concern, and I would have done the same for you.
no subject
Whatever is below in the catacombs is a threat. That's always been known and obvious, but never truly addressed. Now though, now they've given away their curiosity and greater things might come knocking on the surface. It may not only target the three of them.
It isn't until Trevor's practically up against him that Alucard is pulled out of his thoughts even somewhat, and it's only because Trevor's hat has met his hair.]
Honestly, I suspect that it was a 50-50 chance of which one of us would have been the first down there.
[In better circumstances, he might say it with more cheer. Such as it is, Alucard's tone is grim.]
I'm lighting warding fires in all the fireplaces when we get in as a safety precaution. It'll protect the whole block, not just us.
[If Trevor wanted to know where the dhampir's mind was, well...]
no subject
Whatever helps Adrian to feel better about the whole probably-forged basilisk beneath their feet thing, which--
Admittedly, it is a little worrying. Not that he'll be in a panic barring the doors and windows, but perhaps sleep will be a bit harder-won tonight. His machismo will allow for no more.]
Can I help?
[It's all he can offer, really. Because if this is one of those snap your fingers to make magickal fire appear tricks, then he's better off sitting back and letting Adrian handle it.]
no subject
[Being outclassed by Sypha with magic is absolutely normal, just as her developing a million spells that are second nature for her becomes a nightmare for anyone else trying to copy the work.
He sighs, tugging his coat a little tighter around him. It's a gesture that speaks to how heavy with worry his head is, and how much he wants to get home.]
We'll have to create a fight plan come morning. Take care of this problem immediately.
no subject
Trevor's never been strictly pyromanic, but the notion is suddenly tempting...
Around the next corner, home is in sight just ahead of them, and it's a relief to see it still standing. Judging by Adrian's uptight aura, Trevor half-expected the house to be overrun by demons already.]
Simple enough. The fires, the plan. We'll be fine. [Trevor's words are terse at first, but his voice softens as it lowers.] And need I remind you, you and I are a force to be reckoned with? Don't worry so much. We're not the useless nobility we look.
no subject
[It's a noncommital nosie that makes it clear Alucard doesn't believe it for a second. He just speeds the approach home with all due haste, and he runs his fingers over the lock on the door. The mechanisms click, and the small foyer opens.
The truth is that the house is perfectly modest given what Alucard is and the nobility of Trevor's own parentage. He's put little effort into decorating, but anything that is in the house is cozy. Warm. There are furs, there are plush sofas in the drawing and living rooms, and the attempt is to keep it comfortable even as it is a fortress.]
Lock the door behind you, please?
[He's already heading to the living room, eyes locked on the hearth.]
no subject
Between you and Sypha enchanting the hell out of this place, and a professional monster hunter living on-premises, do you really think they'd be stupid enough to try and send one in here?
[Trevor follows Adrian to the living room and kneels beside the hearth, tossing his gloves on the hearthstones before he starts situating logs in the firebox.]
Or is that giving them too much credit?
[Even this early in the season, they thankfully have decent kindling. He has the logs caught before long, whereupon he steps back and motions for Adrian to do his part.]
I'll start on the oven, I suppose.
[And off he gets to the kitchen.]
no subject
[While Trevor disappears to wrangle the oven, Alucard stands over the flames as best he can. One hand (his left) remains outstretched, and the words he murmurs are some old Enochian dialect that Sypha has found best suited to this task. He falls silent, waves his hand clockwise then counter-clockwise over the flame, and then withdraws.
The flames glow an eerie green, and a white puff of smoke moves up the chimney. Good. It's taken.
Alucard heads for the kitchen next.]
Did you notice the set of gold skulls down there?
no subject
[Trevor noticed, but he hadn't considered them to be anything of importance until Adrian mentioned them just now. He'd just taken them for markers to the exit passages, but stopping to consider it again, perhaps they are something a trifle more significant.]
Do you think they have something to do with the forged creatures?
[Trevor pauses to glance over his shoulder to Adrian, then continues his work until he has a fire stoked in the oven as well. He leaves Adrian to his magicks with the oven, and moves on to the hearth in the parlor.
It makes sense, really. Not that he's questioning Adrian's judgment at this juncture, but it's rather easy to jump to conclusions when one is nervous, as the dhampir clearly is. But it stands to reason that the skulls are some manner of delineation. Trevor can't remember, wracking his brain though he is; he's no expert on forgemaster magicks, but perhaps there's something in the vault.]
Are you familiar with forgemaster magicks? I can't recall anything about gold marking a boundary, but--
no subject
[Alucard walks into the kitchen next, repeating the process. He sighs when he finishes, then walks over to the parlor's hearth. He's standing side Trevor, still tugging at the coat (he hasn't taken his off) like that will help him warm up.
It won't. He'll take one of the fur blankets and use that once all is done.]
I'm not. But gold doesn't just have to be a forgemaster trick, does it? Alchemists and spellcasters might be able to take advantage of it, and if our forgemaster has skills there...[They're fucked.]
no subject
[That's a sobering thought, also one he hadn't considered until Adrian mentioned it. Hell, if their cozy little forgemaster problem has an alchemical element to it, that complicates things quite a bit. It expands the realm of possibilities, if nothing else.
But Adrian's fidgeting again, and his nerves are starting to wear on Trevor. It's like dancing the knife's edge when he's like this, and Trevor's never cared much for that brand of anxiety. Fire built, he extends his hands to Adrian, briefly waving his fingers in beckon.]
Let me have your coat. I'll put it up, and then I'll start on the second-floor hearths.
no subject
[Sypha could have looked at the damn things and instantly understood what they were and, moreover, how to deal with the problem. She's the brains of the operation with understanding, Trevor's the brains when it comes to tactics. It's a reminder of why they work best when there's three around, rather than two.]
But it could be to our advantage. Go down only once and not come back, like this was all some kind of exploratory mistake gone wrong.
[They're words more to himself than to Trevor and--
Oh. Fingers. Moving. Trevor has caught Alucard's attention. The dhampir makes an embarrassed noise before he shrugs off his coat.]
Thank you. I almost forgot I had it on.
no subject
He offers Adrian a knowing eyeroll, and nods as he carefully drapes Adrian's coat over his arm and proceeds upstairs. Oddly, he's familiar enough with Adrian's routine to know where the missing coat should fit in his closet, and he replaces it in the likeliest-looking spot (careful to brush out the shoulders as Adrian would want) before continuing on duties.
Golden skulls. Something about it still nags at him, try as he might to ignore the way it tugs at his awareness. It will come to him, in time. Probably at precisely the wrong moment and two days too late, if past experience is anything to go by.]
Hell, there's nothing subtle about it, is there?
[Trevor's mumbling to himself as he finally gets the fire started in Adrian's hearth, and he stands after the task is accomplished. Stares, as if the fire will give him any sodding clue. It doesn't, but he's certain he's starting to smell of woodsmoke, and he can use a moment's respite from that, if nothing else.]
no subject
Nothing about this is right, but the particulars for the reason of right or wrong is absolutely beyond the dhampir. He doesn't like it, not one single bit, and there's an aggravated sigh as he finally peels off his gloves. His hands are warm enough now, thanks to the fire and their wool lining.
Heading up, he goes to his room first. It's the room he uses least, and that's reflected in the sparse decor and the general stillness of the place. Alucard has long since found himself happier in Sypha's or Trevor's beds, and he's awaiting a commissioned bedframe meant to hold all three of them without any sort of overcrowding. The upstairs parlor will be the bedroom, when all is said and done, and the three separate rooms kept for when one needs space alone.
He walks over to the hearth, cool hands resting on Trevor's shoulder.]
I'll start on dinner, when this is done. I don't suspect you've eaten all day, have you?
no subject
[After stalking the catacombs all day, he swears he can still feel the cobwebs in his hair. And perhaps it's all psychological, but that musty, earthy stench seems to be clinging to his coat.
And it doesn't occur to him that he could have both. That he could possibly bathe and then eat, but taking care of himself has never been his strong suit if alcohol isn't involved. Case in point, he'd fully intended to have a liquid dinner until Adrian mentioned dinner, and -- vile betrayer -- Trevor's stomach gives an involuntary grumbly whine at the notion. No chance it would allow him to refuse Adrian's cooking.]
Of course, if you're making something anyway...
{Trevor presses a kiss to the hand on his shoulder, and moves onto the hearth in Sypha's room.]
no subject
But he'd rather cook. It relaxes him, going through the motions. Making sure that there's something creative made of frustrations, and then it fills a true need. It's alchemy in it's way, and it feels like a magic that, if not in par with Sypha's, is at least something of Alucard's own.]
I'll go get started, and finish the last of the wards when I'm done.
[Alucard can hear your stomach, Trevor. It's a reminder of how long the day has been, just as the kiss to his hand is a reminder that Alucard's worry is becoming far too much.
He withdraws to the kitchen. Fills a pot with water and a few herbs and a lemon, and puts it all to boil while the chicken in the refrigerator is brought out and butterflied. Alucard knows his kitchen benefits from all of Dracula's advanced technology, putting it a century ahead of all other kitchens in London.
Poached chicken breast isn't much. Steamed carrots isn't anything very special. But it comes together quickly, and Alucard knows that the fires will be lit long before he's done cooking.
That's fine. He sits at the table in the kitchen, focusing on the rosemary permeating the room. Good. It helps. It distracts.]
no subject
[It's almost an afterthought, called after Adrian when he leaves Trevor to his own devices again. He's been a flurry of nervous energy since they left the catacombs, and while Trevor doesn't blame him for it, he also knows Adrian has a tendency to wear himself thin when he's like this.
After dinner, after whatever wards are left to be placed, Trevor resolves to get Adrian out of his own head. Whatever form that takes, Trevor will dedicate himself to the task with all due diligence.
The remaining fires are built with Trevor still idling in a state of preoccupation. The golden skulls problem still tugs at something long-buried in his memory, and trying to wrench it free is an exercise in (frustrating) futility. He's not certain how he can even smell rosemary over all the firewood currently burning in the manor, but his stomach loudly protests again, and he begrudgingly decides to put off the bath until after they've eaten.
He joins Adrian in the kitchen shortly thereafter, thankfully bereft his hat and cape. ]
The fires await your finishing touch, my liege.
(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)