cryptsleeper | Catch All

[He's the one that drives them at night. It makes sense, because he can still see the road and it permits them to cover much more ground if they don't have to camp for the night. He likes it, some nights. It's traveling and being as alone as he can be right now with the other two asleep in the back, winds brushing against the vampire's face and a sense of...he isn't safe, no, but this is his normal. Moving through the woods of Wallachia with the stupid desire not to die, because it's the only thing he can think of to please his mother right now.

It's the only reason he didn't try dying a long time ago.

The wound's moved closer towards healing. Alucard knows that much when Trevor declares dinner and the vampire is required to truly wake. Dinner means it'll be his turn to drive, and driving demands constant vigilance.

He doesn't sit up yet though. Alucard grabs the bottle and brings it over to himself, then slowly, carefully sits up so he can consume the contents. There's no indication that the movement hurts aside from how his shoulders flinch, and soon enough, the empty bottle is placed down with a thud.]

Thank you.

[It's enough. Alucard's used to hunting and eating as a wolf rather than a man, all raw flesh and blood rather than things cooked by human means. Just taking blood right now is more than enough. He can let the human diet go a few days so long as there's blood every night.]

How many more days are we out from our intended destination?

Three days to Braila - we'll make it in two if you're well enough to drive and the horses can handle the work - and the castle's about a day out from there. We might need to make the journey between them a few times for supplies.

[ Which is a less horrifying way of saying 'if vampires have taken over it, we might need to be prepared to do a siege'. Dracula's operating out of his childhood home. He knows how it feels to lose home to an enemy force, and it's a shitty prospect to bring it up to Alucard. He is at least trying to be nice. ]

You going to be up and about again by then, or should we stop a few days?

Then I'll make the drive.

[The sooner this is done and over with, the sooner Alucard can withdraw from the world again, alone and if not content in that loneliness, then able to accept it and know that the world is truly better off for his father's death.

Or maybe he'll just entomb himself properly. Use his father's coffin deep in the castle for his own, lock it, and be if not at peace, then asleep and dead to the world. Oh, it is a fate to be wished for after the last decade in change, one that means no hiding, no need to keep hunting for scraps of food, no dealing with humans or vampires or anyone. Just rest, and hopefully rest without dreams.

The other two have each other. The night world will have a Belmont to enforce order upon it again. It all works out in the end.]

We keep going. This is a distraction, nothing more.

[ He nods. It's- if not about right, then about what they've come to expect from each other. They all keep their time together at a minimum. It's only sad if one stops to think about it, and the only one who ever stops to think about it is Sypha. ]

Here.

[ The thing he hands over is a damp cloth sack, being used to contain a thick black paste. ]

We passed some blackthorn while you were asleep. It's for- [ He pauses. ] -I told her it was for the big nasty one, but it should help numb whatever you want to use it on.

Oh, you're herbalists now?

[The response is automatic. Rude and bitter, because Alucard should be the one taking care of these things himself, not relying on the other two to take care of him. He's never needed it before. He shouldn't need it now.

But he opens the sack, putting his nose to it. His trust in Trevor doesn't exist, and...smell checks out. That's fine. He puts the sack down to one side, and while his movement is hidden by the cloak,the fact his hand reaches into the bag after a few moments makes it clear he really is using it.]

...Thanks.

[It'll be enough to get through the night.]

It'll be done with soon.

[This. The whole awful adventure to kill Dracula. Then they'll part and get on with their lives as they need to.]

Butchers and herbalists. Who'd have thought.

[ Not the 'you're' alucard was referring to, but after last night he's still primed to expect insults aimed at the Belmonts. His tone is colder. Flatter. He doesn't sound angry or hurt, just tired. Maybe a little disappointed. ]

It will.

[ He was going to leave with that, but he can hear frozen grass crunching a little way away now, Sypha returning from her foraging. He sighs, looking over in that direction. ]

Keep her safe.

Get ready to go then.

[There's time for the other two to eat while Alucard shifts things around in the back of the wagon, and then it's his turn to drive for the night. The horses don't like him at all, but they move when he urges them two and they only need to rest a few times in the night. They'll have to take a longer break in the morning to allow for them to rest, but that's fine. Alucard feels safer being moving at night.

They're not on smooth roads. Alucard takes quite a few bumps, and under normal circumstances, it should never be a problem. But one awful bump sends Alucard almost flying off the bench, and then he hears the sound of tearing flesh. He doesn't make a noise, but he can tell where.

It's the stitching Trevor did. Of course.

He does nothing. Doesn't stop. Doesn't reach for clean bandages, does nothing. The horses keep moving, and Alucard only has them stop a little ways past dawn, because there is a fresh water stream ahead and the horses need that more than anyone else.

Once parked, Alucard rouses the other two. Well, Sypha, who wakes Trevor and tells him to go take care of breakfast while she takes care of the horses. It's one of the few times all three of them are awake, and Alucard just climbs into the back. The other two are gone. He can pull his shirt up to assess the damage and --]

Shit.

[ The hunting is bad, and breakfast comes with eggs from an abandoned nest but no meat. It wouldn't be a problem, save for-

-the blood bottle still gets filled, and that's what matters. Blood is blood, no matter what it comes from, and it's only a tiny thing. While Sypha busies herself with dealing with a loose shoe on one of the horses, Trevor enters the wagon with the bottle. ]

Before you sleep- [ He begins, and then actually looks at the stained white shirt. Then at the cut itself. ] -fuck.

Don't say anything.

[Alucard has peeled his shirt off to try and get a better look at the wound. That means the whole scar is visible, but more than that, the thin trickle of blood coming down his chest is an obvious contrast against his all too pale skin.]

Stitching by night was a poor choice.

...fuck.

[ Okay, that probably counts as saying something. To his credit, he at least doesn't say anything else. That's the part that he stitched. He's the one who did this to Alucard. He moves past Alucard, picking up the shirt. They have access to water and they're going to be stuck here until the horse is re-shod, so there's time to clean it. Sypha doesn't need to know about the blood. ]

I'll- leave you be.

[Alucard shakes his head no. He hates this. He is horrified by the words that come out of his mouth. He almost chokes on them.]

Can't reach, that much is clear to me. I'll assume you're better at this in daylight.

[Not bleeding is more important. Alucard knows his blood is dangerous, and he's around two humans. He isn't so awful as to insist that he put the other two at risk.]

[ He looks at Alucard for a moment, then nods solemnly. It doesn't take long to retrieve the sewing kit again and pick a needle. He digs out a leather strap as well, folding it upon itself and handing it over. ]

Bite down on this. It'll make it easier.

[ His tone is softer. Still flat. Still distant. Still with a far-off undercurrent of hurt, but softer and maybe a little warmer. He kneels by Alucard as he speaks, soaking a cloth with water. ]

It barely stung last night. Thank you.

[Which is the politest no he's ever, ever given the Belmont. Alucard simply stays still, waiting. He knows the needle was returned to it's little alcohol vial, and so it's sterile. It's just working quickly.]

She's still distracted.

[Sypha doesn't need to know. She won't know if they do it right this time.]

[ He raises an eyebrow, but sets about working. Cleans away the excess blood so that he can actually see what he's doing, then begins stitching.

It is, in some ways, more difficult to do this by eye than by touch. The daylight helps, but light isn't good for his bad eye and focusing both eyes on something for an extended period of time is difficult. It's slower work, but the stitching is neater and he manages not to touch Alucard more than is absolutely necessary. ]

She'll be a while. One of the horses had a shoe come loose. Probably what did this.

[ And his tone softens further as he says that, melting into admiration just a little. She sets things on fire with her brain and she's a half-decent farrier. ]

Drove them to hard, I suppose.

[That's all he can think of saying. Alucard wants Trevor to just pay attention and do the work, so he doesn't say anything else. It's better, being quiet. Being still so that the situation can get fixed. He's solved many a situation in just that way - hiding himself and holding his breath until the danger has passed.

He's so still. It's the touch but it's also knowing that it's effective for the work. The most Alucard does is look down and try to note if Trevor's stitches are too far apart. This time, it's fine.]

Should have time to destroy the shirt too, at any rate. No point in washing it.

[ He finishes the last stitch, more confident in the work this time, and sets about putting things away. ]

But then you- won't have a shirt.

[ It'll be very distracting. ]

I have a spare.

[That's actually a lie, the spare got destroyed by Dracula along with most of Alucard's torso. Alucard doesn't say that though, just reaches for bandages so he can pretend he fixed some of this by himself.]

It's fine, Belmont. And it's better stitching.

If you say so.

[ He can see the scar better now, and he kind of wishes he couldn’t. It’s a horrible thing, long and ugly and still only barely healed in places, raw and held together by burned flesh. He wants to make it better. He wants to make things right. He can’t. He doesn’t know how.

He sits next to Alucard, drawing his knees up to his chest. ]

I know- It must be hard to believe, that I mean you no harm.

[Alucard just focuses on applying the bandages. It's easy, wrapping them around himself when he's more awake and he has more daylight to work with. Simpler. He's relieved by the time the wound is covered entirely, and he can just pick his cloak back up and pull it around himself again. Oh, sure, it doesn't hide all of the scar, but most of it obscured and--

--Trevor's still there. Ugh.]

This is a prelude to a conversation neither one of us truly wants to have, Belmont.

...I suppose you’re right.

[ Why did he think that would end well? He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, and when he gets up it’s with a rare difficulty that makes it all too clear what the year of captivity has done to him.

The chill is back in his tone, and he doesn’t look at Alucard. ]

Drink your breakfast and rest. I’ll wake you in the evening.

And I don't believe you for a moment, either. When this is done, I expect you to try and cleave my head from my neck. [And all too steadily, he simply says:] I'll likely welcome it, after my father's death.

[He says nothing else. He ignores how Trevor stands. He only reaches for the bottle and begins to down it's contents. Blood and then sleep. The normal schedule, and it has been nice, feeding more than once a day.

Alucard tuts at himself. He mustn't get used to it.]

[ He doesn’t respond, just leaves and tosses the shirt into the fire as he passes it.

Sypha is the one to wake Alucard that evening. And the next. And the next. The blood vial still gets filled, but it’s never Trevor who delivers it. It’s Sypha who delivers the news that a vampire named Carmilla has made the castle her home, and Sypha who deals with the aftermath of that news.

But after Carmilla fights her way to Dracula’s study and leaps through the mirror there to escape, Sypha is busy. She has work to do, more work than Trevor can imagine to figure out how to move the castle. There is just him, unwanted as he is. He’s not unscathed himself, but it’s just scrapes and bruises. Alucard was her target, and she went after him with a focus unmatched. ]

Is this broken, or just swollen as shit?

[Alucard realizes only come evening after the shirt has been destroyed that it was in fact his only one. He steals a new one from a passing clothes line on some awful little farm out near the wilderness, and he has no ounce of shame in doing so. It's clean. It's loose. It'll do, and he'll find a second spare if they survive all of this.

He drives them at night, saying almost nothing. The space from Trevor is a godsend, even if it's clear from Sypha's body language that the distance doesn't make her happy. Alucard would apologize if he was in a better frame of mind, but he isn't. He's biting back a lot of pain, and not even Sypha's presence makes it easier.

But then the name Carmilla is said and the vampire shifts entirely. Oh, he's still ice cold but all the sadness that surrounds him is replaced by red hot fury, something barely concealed and powering him through the healing process. He isn't shocked to hear that she's taken his father's home and is using it as a prize. But there is satisfaction in the chance to remove her from it violently that helps to gloss over the fact that it will be his first time home in over a decade.

It's not a pretty fight. In it, Alucard is every inch Dracula's son that he has ever been - an awful, feral thing that hisses and bites and claws, unafraid to throw Carmilla around as a man or a wolf and to nearly rip her throat out with his own fangs. Her blood is soaked through the castle's floor, running in neat little rivers that are ice cold and sticky.

He's taken injuries, but Alucard expected that. Carmilla has left marks on him before, and there was such a horrible satisfaction in watching her throat wound struggle to heal. She'll come back, because Alucard knows that she will and...

...and then adreline and fury leave him, and he's just Adrian again. Sad, miserable Adrian who was distracted from the real goal here of defeating Dracula and thus more liable to put their mission at risk.

He doesn't care. Not really. If they fail, then they fail, and Wallachia deserves it. The only reason he's trying at all is because his mother would be horrified to have this violence happen in her name.

It's hard now, being in the castle. Alucard's eyes are on the door, and he swears he expects her to just come in the room and sigh that he's collected a very impressive set of injuries.

But no. It's just him. Just Trevor. No one else.]

Swollen. There should be ice in the kitchen.

[ He really is a monster, isn’t he? It was easier to forget, earlier. When he was man-shaped and just kind of a shitty person. Now, seeing all of that, seeing how he wasn’t trying to kill Carmilla but to destroy her-

-god forgive him. He needs Alucard, he can’t face Dracula alone. ]

I’ll fetch it. Stay still.

[ The tone’s as cold as it was when they last spoke. He knows Alucard doesn’t want warmth, and he’s not fool enough to try to offer it again.

Neither of them want him here, after all. Sypha fawns over the vampire, the vampire is rude at both of them. They want a Belmont, not a friend, and perhaps that’s for the best. ]

Hn.

[Alucard would warn Trevor of the kitchen's modernity if he could remotely hope that the kitchen of his childhood was in tact at all. If there's no ice, then they at least have Sypha. But in Trevor's absence, there's a weight that settles over the vampire, almost crushing.

Carmilla was here. She was here for so long, and the house was a trophy to her. He just failed to kill her. It means she'll be back and back with horrible vengance, just as he is already. Survival isn't guaranteed and....

...Fuck. He may as well offer his throat willingly to the Belmont when this is all done.

Alucard's on the floor when Trevor returns, his awful messy, matted hair pooled around him, His hands curled up against the fabric of his cloak, as if he was trying to pull it closer when he fell. He's lost consciousness in all of this, and that's probably for the better anyway.]

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