[ The Speaker can, in fact, use magic to track Alucard’s blood. She’ll need components that can’t be found at sea but once them make landfall she’ll be able to start. Also, she does want to fight Dracula. And she, at least, is of the opinion that she’s travelling with Trevor rather than being the temporary ally of convenience that Trevor seems to think of her as.
Clearing away the remains of the broken coffin is a harrowing task and Trevor makes quick work of it. By the time Alucard and Sypha arrive the bulk of the glass is cleared away and a few items are in its place. There’s the sword’s sheath. A long black coat, one that’s had obvious battle damage repaired by someone perhaps less practiced than she could be in repairing clothes. A small pile of letters, bound with wax-sealed twine. ]
Don’t know if he stole anything, but I think these are all yours.
[Sypha is...Alucard likes her. She's a quick wit, and it's clear from talking with her that Trevor comes with a great deal more emotions in Alucard's direction. It shouldn't be shocking, Alucard knows. He's a former family heirloom given life. Alucard remembers the snippets of discussion had over the years, when he heard Trevor's voice.
No wonder.
When they arrive in the hold, Alucard's relieved that the glass is gone. He leans over and takes one of the lillies though, placing it in the pocket of his trousers. The coat is...oh. He knows that repair was probably done by a handful of people, and his face falls just a little.
The letters are...Alucard can see the handwriting from where he stands. He flinches.]
Godbrand can't even read. He'd have no need or want of them.
Probably didn’t take anything from the letters, at least. The seal’s still intact. If he took anything else- I wouldn’t know. Never paid much attention to the things under the flowers.
[ He pauses awkwardly, looking at the letters. ]
I’ll give you a moment. I need to talk to the speaker anyway.
[ He still doesn't like the idea of rooming with an unmarried woman, but needs must.
There are about a dozen letters in all, some short and some long. Most are normal, as normal as letters written to a dead man by a vampire hunter can be. They detail the daily events of the household, Juliet's recovery from her own injuries, the birth of her nephews (twins! just as you thought they might be), the misadventures of various dogs.
As time passes and she's clearly recovered, they start to detail her work. How her family have taken her away from the mediation work, because a reputation as Dracula's killer has rendered her a little too intimidating for it. How instead she's been focusing on her other work - the study of naturally-born night creature populations. These letters are filled with painstakingly detailed ink drawings of the creatures she's been studying, ones that are somewhat ruined by the fact that the labels on those drawings are being used to point out 'cute nose, probably good to boop' or 'good wings, very flappy'.
A year passes in letter form. Then two. The letters sent around the anniversary of Alucard's sleep are always a little melancholy. By the end of the third year- ]
I don't understand. The speakers say that you are whole once more, and yet no force I can muster will wake you.
I spoke with their elder when they examined you, and he told me that the body sometimes makes itself weak to protect the mind, that perhaps you cannot wake because your body wishes to keep you from the sorrow you have endured. That you will not wake unless you have something to wake for. So I suppose that I am addressing this to your foolish body-
Times are kind, now. We are happy. The winter is mild and the storehouses are full and the house warm and full of love. The boys are old enough now to have begun roughhousing with each other and the dogs (and me, when they feel confident, but not yet their mother or Enid) and they seem to be enjoying that immensely. Work brings me to see the most fascinating creatures. I do not doubt the depth of the sorrow that you are protecting yourself from, not for a moment, but I know that there is joy enough here to temper it.
With love, with all the love the world can bear to hold, Ton Lapin
[ That is the second-last letter. The last is dated a few months later. ]
Mon Loup,
I think perhaps you knew. This was why you didn't wake, wasn't it? It wasn't that there was not joy enough for you at the time, no, it was that you could sense what would come. You could sense even before the dogs did. You would not wake only to suffer another loss.
I am sorry for not understanding sooner.
My sisters and I have made arrangements. We have moved you to the hold. Enid has altered the books - I know, I know, believe that she hates this terrible sacrifice more than you do - any of her successors will read that you have been in the possession of our house since the time of our ancestor Leon, and that it is not our place to question why he brought you here. When the boys begin their education next year, they will learn that Dracula and his son alike were brought low by my hand. They will tell this to their own sons and daughters, so that any search for you leads to nothing.
I know that you will wake, one day. I know that you are stronger than the sorrow you are protecting yourself from, that it will not hold you captive forever.
I wish you all the happiness in the world when you do, my most precious love. Ton Lapin.
[Alucard sits on the floor of the hold, and for a time, he does not remove the twine or break the seal. He knows the hand. He knows that there is no happiness inside. A part of him demands he not open the letters at all.
But there is love for the dead, and in that love the deepest wish to reconnect on some level. Any. So Alucard reads.
His hands shake more and more as he goes through the letters, for no matter where they end, it is in pain. They're all humans. It only ends one way with humans. Alucard knows that, but then he glances down at the dwindling pile of correspondence and his heart ache grows. It's too small for a lifetime. Far too small.
That's the first point tears fill his eyes and his hands tremble.
It is impossible to stop though. Love of the dead demands seeing it all through to the end, and so Alucard does. Muted sobs die in his throat. The last letter shakes so badly that he puts it down twice so he can steady himself. And then...
...and then he hates the thing that made him sleep for four centuries. Whatever happened, whatever arrangements were made to keep himself, he could have fought against what happened to cause them. Been more than enough to prevent it from happening, or at least a capable creature who could see all through the aftermath.
It doesn't matter. He wasn't there. He was stuffed in a glass box like a particularly pretty piece of taxidermy and that was that.
Alucard stays on the floor of the hold, defeated by letters. His eyes are closed, face angled upwards towards the ceiling. The sobs don't escape. Tears do.
[ They wait. He talks to the Speaker, tells her of what happened and what they learned, and she only nods as if she knew all along. He tries to give the man from the coffin space.
But this is a lot longer and ten minutes, and they don't know for sure if the boat is free of vampires. His instincts say that it is, that other vampires couldn't have stomached Godbrand's presence in a confined space like this, but he's not willing to trust the safety of the man in the coffin with his instincts alone. ]
Adrian.
[ The family resemblance is clear, even after centuries. The same dark hair and pale blue eyes. The same faint scent of incense, though Trevor's is an edge of purpose cutting through the smell of blood and alcohol where Juliet's had been an edge of significance to the smell of earth and wet grass.
They're not the same. They never could have been. But his hand settles on Alucard's shoulder with the same weight and warmth that hers did. ]
Whatever really happened, I'm sorry. And I- we'll do this. Whatever needs doing.
[Alucard hardly reacts when Trevor's hand settles where it is. His body wants to react in a certain way (turning, reaching out, clinging) but she isn't here. She hasn't been here in four centuries.
He's just quiet and still, no tension in him at all.]
Don't stick me in a coffin again when this is done, Belmont. Promise me you won't.
[ And then he actually thinks about that. Did they... bury him alive? Was that it, why there was so much secrecy around this? It doesn't seem entirely beyond his family, not if it would keep people safe, but-
[Alucard doesn't clarify or elaborate. He only falls quiet, using his own coat sleeve to wipe at his tears. Thank God he doesn't cry blood like his father. His face would be an absolute mess.
The question is barely heard. A low response comes:]
Do as you like.
[The letters are mostly next to Trevor at this point, read and then turned face down]
I know that we’ve really only just met, but- [ He shrugs off his coat, tossing it onto the ground because he’s pretty sure he got all the glass but he doesn’t have a glassproof vampire butt to make the risk of sitting here acceptable. He sits, and seems to think better of finishing that sentence when he does.
It’s probably not a great idea to tell a distressed stranger that you consider them family. ]
The Speaker wants to track the castle. It’s moved a couple times over the years. We used to follow it, but it never does any harm. Just goes from place to place, like a migrating animal.
But she says it’s in England right now, and that her people sent her to find it.
[It's hard for Alucard to make himself appear to be small. Very hard. But he tries, shoulders shrinking, pulling away from Trevor's hand. He can't make himself smaller, not really, but Alucard tries all the same.
Everything about him wants to just leap off the boat and stay wherever he lands.]
Everyone will be looking for it. Better to get there first before it's used for ill.
[There's no joy in his voice. No pain. Only flatness.]
The castle, then. Anyone aiming to bring Dracula back will want it. It’s as good a place as any to start. London will have to wait.
[ He gets the message when Alucard moves away from his hand and withdraws it. It’s still weird to be sitting next to that thing that he was dragging around until now. ]
I don’t think there were vampires other than the captain aboard. Once you’re ready, could you double check that for me?
You mean like the bat? As long as you can defend yourself, I don’t mind what shape you feel like being.
[ He looks up at the ceiling, listening to the creaking of the boat. ]
Should have known better than to drag you into a trap like this. But I’ll make it right. And if you don’t want a new coffin, you don’t have to have one.
[Alucard says nothing at first. He tucks the letters into his coat, which at least means picking his head up off his knees and moving around slightly.]
Very well. Thank you.
[Then without any other say so, Alucard is a wolf. One that curls up beside Trevor immediately, making it clear that he's miserable but...he can manage as a wolf. That much is a basic truth.]
[ With a shove, Alucard's wolf head slides to the floor, waking him. ]
Don't do the whining noise at me, my legs are just falling asleep. [ She says it preemptively, before he even has a chance to do the whining noise, as if this is a problem she has fairly often. Just usually with actual dogs. Juliet Belmont massages feeling back into her legs before stretching them out, wiggling them a little. ] You're the one who decided to be something heavy.
[ Her fingers sink into his fur, combing through it, flinching as they brush against skin. ]
God, you're still so cold. That's not normal, is it?
[ Did he answer, back then? Whether or not he did, she just continues. Rearranges her legs to be comfortable again and pulls Alucard's head back onto her lap, rearranging her cloak so it covers both of them. The castle can't warm itself, no matter how much it wants to help Alucard, not without giving away their location. The cloak will have to be enough.
It smells of earth. There's dirt under her fingernails and bits of leaves in her hair no matter how many times she runs her fingers through it. Just rubbing against her is enough to leave grass stains in Alucard's fur and the noises her nose makes when she falls asleep again sound like the song of a small but particularly aggressive bird. ]
[ Trevor is still for a long time. He should go, but- fuck it, let Sypha have the room. It's the safest place on the boat, and it means he doesn't have to deal with sharing with her.
His hand sinks into Alucard's fur after a moment. And there's dirt under his fingernails, too, but Alucard is warmer now. Healthier, at least in body. ]
It's weird as fuck. Having you be alive, I mean. But- shit, all the rest of this, too. Going to take a lot of getting used to.
[ He chuckles. ]
Shit, though, you could have been a bat in that coffin the whole time, and you went and decided to be something heavy.
[Alucard's wolf form shakes suddenly. It's memory. It's emotion. It's the fear of not knowing what time he's actually in, and it's her voice he's hearing, crystal clear. Her hands combing through fur, and oh he wishes he had never fallen asleep. That his body could have suffered a slower recovery process in consciousness, because at least he'd be there.
He wants to be properly cold. Not this luke warm thing that's neither alive or dead, just...
...it doesn't matter. If all the religions are right, they'd be far apart. He's a patricide, and those only ever belong below.
A soft whine escapes Alucard when Trevor's voice anchors him to the present. He hates it. He wants to shrink away from the touch, but he's curled too tight upon himself to manage even that much.]
[ He doesn't say anything more - he's been around enough dogs to know that whine. He just takes his hand from Alucard's fur and closes his eyes.
Sypha's found her way to them when he wakes. She's leaning on him, snoring quietly, and the bedding from his room is wrapped around the two of them. Alucard has gained a blanket, too. And she's warm, so warm, enough to banish the cold dampness of the boat from his bones. He has no idea why the fuck she'd give up having a room of her own but- shit, this is nice.
...and shit, this is real. Is there a word for a hangover, but instead of drinking you get it from weird, awful shit happening the night before? Because that's exactly what the headache he's fast developing right now is. ]
[Alucard doesn't sleep. He doesn't want to, nor does he need to. He's been asleep for so many centuries, and now he's scared to even attempt.
So he knows when Sypha finds her way to the other two of them. He feels the blanket draped over him, and that's enough to make him try and inch away finally. They'll get this over with and he'll just go find a way to end this sadness.
Trevor swears, and Alucard's head lifts. Another soft whine, this one with a head tilt.]
I just- fuck. That all really happened, didn't it? This is all really happening. You used to be a guy in a coffin and now you're a dog and also fucking Dracula is happening and-
[ He shakes his head. ]
-it doesn't matter. She'll lead us to the castle, you sniff out anything that wants us dead and I'll keep the two of you safe. Easy enough.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
If she can track my blood, then we will know where they are and--
[Other things? Alucard frowns slightly at that, but he nods. Hopefully it'll be useful.]
I'll go find the Speaker and meet you there then.
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Clearing away the remains of the broken coffin is a harrowing task and Trevor makes quick work of it. By the time Alucard and Sypha arrive the bulk of the glass is cleared away and a few items are in its place. There’s the sword’s sheath. A long black coat, one that’s had obvious battle damage repaired by someone perhaps less practiced than she could be in repairing clothes. A small pile of letters, bound with wax-sealed twine. ]
Don’t know if he stole anything, but I think these are all yours.
no subject
No wonder.
When they arrive in the hold, Alucard's relieved that the glass is gone. He leans over and takes one of the lillies though, placing it in the pocket of his trousers. The coat is...oh. He knows that repair was probably done by a handful of people, and his face falls just a little.
The letters are...Alucard can see the handwriting from where he stands. He flinches.]
Godbrand can't even read. He'd have no need or want of them.
no subject
[ He pauses awkwardly, looking at the letters. ]
I’ll give you a moment. I need to talk to the speaker anyway.
no subject
[He takes it all: the coat, the letters, everything. Shrugs the coat on, and then looks down at the letters again.]
Ten minutes? There's quite a few.
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[ He still doesn't like the idea of rooming with an unmarried woman, but needs must.
There are about a dozen letters in all, some short and some long. Most are normal, as normal as letters written to a dead man by a vampire hunter can be. They detail the daily events of the household, Juliet's recovery from her own injuries, the birth of her nephews (twins! just as you thought they might be), the misadventures of various dogs.
As time passes and she's clearly recovered, they start to detail her work. How her family have taken her away from the mediation work, because a reputation as Dracula's killer has rendered her a little too intimidating for it. How instead she's been focusing on her other work - the study of naturally-born night creature populations. These letters are filled with painstakingly detailed ink drawings of the creatures she's been studying, ones that are somewhat ruined by the fact that the labels on those drawings are being used to point out 'cute nose, probably good to boop' or 'good wings, very flappy'.
A year passes in letter form. Then two. The letters sent around the anniversary of Alucard's sleep are always a little melancholy. By the end of the third year- ]
I don't understand. The speakers say that you are whole once more, and yet no force I can muster will wake you.
I spoke with their elder when they examined you, and he told me that the body sometimes makes itself weak to protect the mind, that perhaps you cannot wake because your body wishes to keep you from the sorrow you have endured. That you will not wake unless you have something to wake for. So I suppose that I am addressing this to your foolish body-
Times are kind, now. We are happy. The winter is mild and the storehouses are full and the house warm and full of love. The boys are old enough now to have begun roughhousing with each other and the dogs (and me, when they feel confident, but not yet their mother or Enid) and they seem to be enjoying that immensely. Work brings me to see the most fascinating creatures. I do not doubt the depth of the sorrow that you are protecting yourself from, not for a moment, but I know that there is joy enough here to temper it.
With love, with all the love the world can bear to hold,
Ton Lapin
[ That is the second-last letter. The last is dated a few months later. ]
Mon Loup,
I think perhaps you knew. This was why you didn't wake, wasn't it? It wasn't that there was not joy enough for you at the time, no, it was that you could sense what would come. You could sense even before the dogs did. You would not wake only to suffer another loss.
I am sorry for not understanding sooner.
My sisters and I have made arrangements. We have moved you to the hold. Enid has altered the books - I know, I know, believe that she hates this terrible sacrifice more than you do - any of her successors will read that you have been in the possession of our house since the time of our ancestor Leon, and that it is not our place to question why he brought you here. When the boys begin their education next year, they will learn that Dracula and his son alike were brought low by my hand. They will tell this to their own sons and daughters, so that any search for you leads to nothing.
I know that you will wake, one day. I know that you are stronger than the sorrow you are protecting yourself from, that it will not hold you captive forever.
I wish you all the happiness in the world when you do, my most precious love.
Ton Lapin.
no subject
But there is love for the dead, and in that love the deepest wish to reconnect on some level. Any. So Alucard reads.
His hands shake more and more as he goes through the letters, for no matter where they end, it is in pain. They're all humans. It only ends one way with humans. Alucard knows that, but then he glances down at the dwindling pile of correspondence and his heart ache grows. It's too small for a lifetime. Far too small.
That's the first point tears fill his eyes and his hands tremble.
It is impossible to stop though. Love of the dead demands seeing it all through to the end, and so Alucard does. Muted sobs die in his throat. The last letter shakes so badly that he puts it down twice so he can steady himself. And then...
...and then he hates the thing that made him sleep for four centuries. Whatever happened, whatever arrangements were made to keep himself, he could have fought against what happened to cause them. Been more than enough to prevent it from happening, or at least a capable creature who could see all through the aftermath.
It doesn't matter. He wasn't there. He was stuffed in a glass box like a particularly pretty piece of taxidermy and that was that.
Alucard stays on the floor of the hold, defeated by letters. His eyes are closed, face angled upwards towards the ceiling. The sobs don't escape. Tears do.
Forty five minutes have passed.]
no subject
But this is a lot longer and ten minutes, and they don't know for sure if the boat is free of vampires. His instincts say that it is, that other vampires couldn't have stomached Godbrand's presence in a confined space like this, but he's not willing to trust the safety of the man in the coffin with his instincts alone. ]
Adrian.
[ The family resemblance is clear, even after centuries. The same dark hair and pale blue eyes. The same faint scent of incense, though Trevor's is an edge of purpose cutting through the smell of blood and alcohol where Juliet's had been an edge of significance to the smell of earth and wet grass.
They're not the same. They never could have been. But his hand settles on Alucard's shoulder with the same weight and warmth that hers did. ]
Whatever really happened, I'm sorry. And I- we'll do this. Whatever needs doing.
no subject
He's just quiet and still, no tension in him at all.]
Don't stick me in a coffin again when this is done, Belmont. Promise me you won't.
no subject
[ And then he actually thinks about that. Did they... bury him alive? Was that it, why there was so much secrecy around this? It doesn't seem entirely beyond his family, not if it would keep people safe, but-
wow, they're kind of assholes. ]
...would it make it weird if I sat with you?
no subject
The question is barely heard. A low response comes:]
Do as you like.
[The letters are mostly next to Trevor at this point, read and then turned face down]
no subject
It’s probably not a great idea to tell a distressed stranger that you consider them family. ]
The Speaker wants to track the castle. It’s moved a couple times over the years. We used to follow it, but it never does any harm. Just goes from place to place, like a migrating animal.
But she says it’s in England right now, and that her people sent her to find it.
no subject
Everything about him wants to just leap off the boat and stay wherever he lands.]
Everyone will be looking for it. Better to get there first before it's used for ill.
[There's no joy in his voice. No pain. Only flatness.]
no subject
[ He gets the message when Alucard moves away from his hand and withdraws it. It’s still weird to be sitting next to that thing that he was dragging around until now. ]
I don’t think there were vampires other than the captain aboard. Once you’re ready, could you double check that for me?
no subject
[Maybe. Who's to say? Alucard leans forward, and now his forehead rests on his knees. It's as small as he can be for now.]
It'll be after daylight. I'm sorry.
no subject
[ It does leave him in a difficult position. He can’t leave Sypha unprotected all night. But he’d rather not leave Alucard unprotected either. ]
...you going to be able to protect yourself, if anything comes after you?
no subject
Yes, that was a bit rude.
[Sypha's capable of taking care of herself.]
I...may take another form for a while, if it is all the same to you.
no subject
[ He looks up at the ceiling, listening to the creaking of the boat. ]
Should have known better than to drag you into a trap like this. But I’ll make it right. And if you don’t want a new coffin, you don’t have to have one.
no subject
Very well. Thank you.
[Then without any other say so, Alucard is a wolf. One that curls up beside Trevor immediately, making it clear that he's miserable but...he can manage as a wolf. That much is a basic truth.]
no subject
Don't do the whining noise at me, my legs are just falling asleep. [ She says it preemptively, before he even has a chance to do the whining noise, as if this is a problem she has fairly often. Just usually with actual dogs. Juliet Belmont massages feeling back into her legs before stretching them out, wiggling them a little. ] You're the one who decided to be something heavy.
[ Her fingers sink into his fur, combing through it, flinching as they brush against skin. ]
God, you're still so cold. That's not normal, is it?
[ Did he answer, back then? Whether or not he did, she just continues. Rearranges her legs to be comfortable again and pulls Alucard's head back onto her lap, rearranging her cloak so it covers both of them. The castle can't warm itself, no matter how much it wants to help Alucard, not without giving away their location. The cloak will have to be enough.
It smells of earth. There's dirt under her fingernails and bits of leaves in her hair no matter how many times she runs her fingers through it. Just rubbing against her is enough to leave grass stains in Alucard's fur and the noises her nose makes when she falls asleep again sound like the song of a small but particularly aggressive bird. ]
no subject
His hand sinks into Alucard's fur after a moment. And there's dirt under his fingernails, too, but Alucard is warmer now. Healthier, at least in body. ]
It's weird as fuck. Having you be alive, I mean. But- shit, all the rest of this, too. Going to take a lot of getting used to.
[ He chuckles. ]
Shit, though, you could have been a bat in that coffin the whole time, and you went and decided to be something heavy.
no subject
He wants to be properly cold. Not this luke warm thing that's neither alive or dead, just...
...it doesn't matter. If all the religions are right, they'd be far apart. He's a patricide, and those only ever belong below.
A soft whine escapes Alucard when Trevor's voice anchors him to the present. He hates it. He wants to shrink away from the touch, but he's curled too tight upon himself to manage even that much.]
no subject
Sypha's found her way to them when he wakes. She's leaning on him, snoring quietly, and the bedding from his room is wrapped around the two of them. Alucard has gained a blanket, too. And she's warm, so warm, enough to banish the cold dampness of the boat from his bones. He has no idea why the fuck she'd give up having a room of her own but- shit, this is nice.
...and shit, this is real. Is there a word for a hangover, but instead of drinking you get it from weird, awful shit happening the night before? Because that's exactly what the headache he's fast developing right now is. ]
...fuck.
no subject
So he knows when Sypha finds her way to the other two of them. He feels the blanket draped over him, and that's enough to make him try and inch away finally. They'll get this over with and he'll just go find a way to end this sadness.
Trevor swears, and Alucard's head lifts. Another soft whine, this one with a head tilt.]
no subject
[ He shakes his head. ]
-it doesn't matter. She'll lead us to the castle, you sniff out anything that wants us dead and I'll keep the two of you safe. Easy enough.
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