[In point of fact, Alucard has very little love for city life. He's a creature of the mountains, of isolation, of being outside and away from humanity. His presence in London is a requirement right now, for reasons the Belmonts have only sort of explained but not really. Something's going down and we need someone with the Hold's knowledge in their head.
Terrible reason. It set Alucard on edge, especially with the past century of revolution in what was only now the Kingdom of Romania. Place names came and went, Ottomans gave way to Russians gave way to the Austro-Hungarians, gave way to independence, but there was still a sense of loss at Wallachia as it's own place. There was always the chance of another war, and now he was a continent away, unable to defend the castle and the Hold.
It was a pointless worry. Plenty of Belmonts remained to do just that, and so he was in London, doing what research he could. The lie of who he was this time (Adrian Ţepeş, an outed minor nobleman who had lost all when the Kingdom of Romania formed) was simple enough, and he could at least access archives and collections in spaces like the British Museum to attempt to understand what threat the Belmonts saw in London.
Which rather lead to here and now. Those same connections that let Alucard sit and assist with cataloging (because he was good at that) asked permission to pass his name along to someone doing research into Romanian folklore. He had agreed, made the appropriate appointment, and at this point, was making coffee in his kitchen.
The exterior of home was as plain a town home as anyone could hope for. Somber and of the time, with a bell attached. A bell attached that was ringing now, just as the coffee (in the style of the Ottomans) completed it's final boil.
Living alone meant that there was no one else to get the door. So Alucard poured the coffee into two tulip shaped glasses first, then went to greet his guest.
No creepy creaky door. No foreboding. Nothing looking out at Vanessa but a simply dressed man with hair a little too long for the time to be considered fashionable.]
[She was not sure what she was expecting when making when she stood on the doorstep of the modest town home and rang the bell. It was not to be greeted by name. And by the master of the residence. Not that she had given the matter a lot of thought, not with all the other looping, racing thoughts and flashes of insight that lurked around every dim corridor and in the restlessness of sleep.
But after retrospective consideration one should have held no expectations when it came to those whose passion was esoteric knowledge. Which, in some ways, made them easier to flock together and exchange information. Like sought like and it would forever be easier to discuss the unbelievable with someone who already had a toe in the pool - so to speak.
Which suits her purposes well since there is little time to gently ease into the subject. Not to say Vanessa was about to spill her guts. Sensitive information must be guarded carefully and even with assurances that Mr. Tepes was discrete she would hold herself back. She had already slipped and let herself lose control, there would be no relapse.]
Mr. Tepes, thank you for agreeing to meet with me.
[The smile is polite, warm in a way that doesn't truly reach her a little too empty eyes. Stepping forward she offers her hand taking the moment to study him. Sharp angles like a concealed rapier, and a gold that holds a hint of something cold.]
[The hand is taken without a moment's hesitation. Having been fussing with hot water and hot coffee only moments before means that Alucard's skin is not it's usual lukewarm temperature, and that? That is good fortune.]
I couldn't say no to such a request. The parlor's on your right.
[He steps back to allow Vanessa in properly, careful to tread lightly without moving too quickly. To do so would give away his own nature, and it has been known to happen before.
It's a small town house, with the main stair case right in the hallway. No photos hang on the walls, and the walls are plain greys and off whites, suggesting a man who's only just moved in and lacked time to decorate. The parlor is no different, with equally plain walls and book cases that are only half filled. Even the furniture is plain, with no particular details on the wood - although the cushions themselves are wonderfully soft. A single sofa sits across from the fireplace (a mirror hangs over head), and two armchairs flank the sofa. A single coffee table mediates it all, but it all lacks a personal touch.
Alucard doesn't follow Vanessa there. He instead disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small tray of coffee. Two tulip shaped glasses of translucent blue sit there, along with a bowl of sugar cubes and little squares of...well, nothing English. The tray is set down on the table, and Alucard settles into one of the armchairs.]
I realize tea is traditional, but the Turkish style of coffee is unique. I'd recommend adding sugar, and drinking carefully when you're halfway through. The grounds sit at the bottom of the cup.
[Drinking coffee grinds is a bad time.]
There's baklava if you'd like it, I found a decent enough supplier and I grew up around those who worked in Ottoman kitchens and could reproduce the stuff. [That's his lie and he's sticking to it.]
[A slight nod of greeting and acknowledgement is given when he takes her hand and she takes that first step across the threshold. It is Vanessa's opinion that he could have very well have refused her request. Social etiquette and obligations are one thing but there's always a way to get around them if a person desires. But she is unaware of what kind of man he is outside of a brief history of his background and social guarantees that he is a well respected and knowledgeable gentleman. So he could be speaking the truth when he says he couldn't refuse.
It will be interesting to see if she will find out more about him along with the lore she is looking to find. The absence of decor may lend insight. While presence of books, paintings, trappings gives light to the occupant so too does the lack of. Even if that insight is simply: unconcerned with outward appearance. Vanessa takes it all in as Adrian disappears and reappears with a tray which she takes as a cue to find a seat on the couch, setting her bag next to her.]
Both sound delightful, thank you Mr. Tepes. As a baklava novice I am sure this will be delicious, have no fear. The regular presence of coffee is a new development for me and I haven't quite adjusted to it. But I believe Turkish coffee differs from - [she struggles with how to classify it, she really is out of her depth here.] American coffee?
It does. The preparation is a far earlier version of what the Americans do, and it's why the grinds remain in the bottom of the cup. Moreover, it's more concentrated, which is why the cups happen to be so small.
[Alucard takes his own cup, adding two of the sugar cubes to it and then stirring.]
Likewise, it is more bitter. But we're not here for the history of coffee.
[Settling back into his seat, Alucard fixes Vanessa with a mildly curious stare.]
What interest do you have in my country's folklore?
No, but I find the pursuit of knowledge a pleasure in its own right no matter what the topic. [Coffee, flesh eating beetles, the blood thirsty undead...
Vanessa follows Adrian's lead, two cubes of sugar and a slow stirring. The ritual of Turkish coffee. The glasses are beautiful, with the delicate handles and bowl of the cup. Once the mixture is stirred she sets the spoon on the saucer and redirects her attention to her host and his gaze.]
Ah, yes. A potentially intriguing topic to be sure; the more monstrous tales from your country. Ones of those who shun sunlight and are sustained by darker substances. It is an interest inspired by recent writings that my colleagues and I have come across.
[Yes, the word vampire has been in circulation for a long enough time, but Alucard knows the part he is playing well an that means using the old words too. He's careful as he holds the coffee in his hand, face a careful blank as he responds in full.]
What of them, precisely? There's too many stories and variations for me to know where to begin without additional guidance, I'm afraid.
[Vanessa nods simply and takes the moment to pick up the still steaming glass to take a careful sip. It's no exaggeration to call it strong but the sweetness of the sugar helps to temper the bitter taste.]
Out interest mainly lies in their power, more specifically their power over others. [Another delicate, silent sip before she continues - a moment to gather her thoughts.] How to loosen that grip.
Well, the end-all and be-all of any creature who is considered a strigoi is to decapitate the creature while it rests, effectively making it impossible for it to rise again from the grave. Of course, decapitation stops most things from continuing onward.
[It isn't a joke, only a dry observation. One that means Alucard's attention is focused on Vanessa and her reaction, rather than the hot glass in his hand.]
Almost every solution to strigoi benefits from knowing their exact location. Otherwise, what is recommended is almost laughable unless you know the countryfolk of Romania and the greater Balkans. Garlic is a constant, as are religious symbols. Some cite wild rose or hawthorn as a deterrent, and so on. Apotropaic devices are often things of the local land. Hard to find in cities.
Then there are some constants in life. [And then, because maybe she feels his weighted eyes upon her.] The coffee is quite good, smooth and strong and the sweetness adds a nice complexity.
[After another sip she sets the cup back in its saucer and looks up to take in his knowledge. Some of it is confirmation which is incredibly useful.] Is it true that the creature must also believe in the power of the device or symbol in order for it to be effective?
Thank you. I rarely have company, and so I was unsure how'd you react to my own preferences.
[Alucard doesn't smile, but for a moment, his eyes are a little softer. Warmer. And then all turns back to business and the neutral tone comes back.]
For religious items, the answer is more about cultural dominance. For example: if an undead was from the subcontient, then Christian symbols might have no effect.
[A polite inquiry to his residency and time in London in between gentle back and forth about the undead. From her purse she withdraws a small book and pencil to make a note.]
In the tales of the vampire - the strigoi. Have you ever come across how they organize themselves. One creature is not like the rest, there are, stages I believe?
[He's too new to the city to have a social circle, too independent to want one. Alucard's aware that it shatters some of the narrative he's crafted for himself.]
Do you mean stages of transformation, or an organizational hierarchy? Those are two distinct things.
The London social circuit is not for all, and even more so for some. How long have you been in London? I think your coffee and baklava would be very appealing to a certain crowd.
[Speaking of which, she will absolutely help herself to a piece - thank you very much. It really would be rude not to and not simply because she has a sweet tooth.]
Both. [Vanessa smiles as she brings the delicate pastry to her lips.]
A month or so? Perhaps slightly longer. I'm unsure of how permanent the move is, in truth. If it's only to be a few months, then I doubt there's much value in spending time attempting to elbow into such circles.
[Alucard? Not wanting to deal with people? Shocking, truly.
But Vanessa says both, and Alucard lets out a tired sigh.]
Organizational hierarchy then, that's easier to begin with. Most stories agree that there is an element of territorialness to the creatures, and so large swaths of land are often theirs and theirs alone - like nobles carving up land to farm and place serfs on and raise cattle. In this metaphor, the cattle are humans, whereas the serfs are the occasional other undead. If a person is turned, they have a built in hierarchy to who was responsible for the act.
One would hardly think the weak slap fights and the passive aggressive behaviors worth combating for such a short time. Where do you usually reside if not in London?
[The question catches her off guard. Not because she wasn't following but because she finds it rather easy to follow. His framing makes it incredibly easy for her to grasp. Have others not? A sip of Turkish coffee washes away the sticky sweet of the pastry.]
I don't have a usual residence yet. Being so freshly removed from Romania, it'll take me time to decide where to stay in the longest terms.
[Alucard waves one hand over his own coffee cup, letting the steam accumulate on his palm. There's a purpose there, to make sure his body temperature still feels human.]
The matter of turning is also where the other hierarchy comes in - that of age. Usually the younger undead is, the less powerful they are. As a result, they have far less in general - less territory. Less respect. Fewer hunting skills. If the vampire who turned them is invested in their well-being, that may change quicker.
Since the start of the century, Romania has been the subject of invasion and revolution. Even now as a Kingdom, things are not settled. My family's age, at the moment, is against it. There are distant friends here, and so it felt safer to be on an island for a bit.
[Alucard's honestly impressed by the system, even if he says nothing of it. The pause allows him at least a moment to sip his own coffee. Then all but drain it.]
Redeemed as in returned to a human state? [He shakes his head no.] Undead is still a form of dead.
[The Vanessa Ives brow furrow is in full effect here as he shares a bit of his backstory.] I am sorry to hear that. I hope that peace returns to your land so you can return as well.
[As for the juggling, everyone has to have some talent. Things calm down a bit when the coffee is finally finished but before the caffeine takes full effect.]
Ah. Yes, that is what I was curious about. Is there any way to save a person from the vampire's thrall?
That is very kind of you. We'll have to see where my countrymen direct our collective fate.
[It is very hard to tell, truly. But the matter returns to the real purpose of Vanessa's visit, and Alucard tuts softly.]
If they haven't been turned into a vampire, yes. But the quickest way to release that hold is to kill the vampire. [Moreover...] You're asking for practical purposes.
[Maybe a small noise of derision there. Fate in the hands of men, how poorly the world fares.
Well, damn.
She should have been more on guard, more careful with her questions, paid closer attention. Less attention on him and more on her asking. Maybe too much coffee, she can feel her heart race the jitter starting there and radiating outward. Maybe it's just fear for her friend. For any desperate hope that they can save Mina.
Vanessa regards him steadily, searching for a read, for anything. Because vampires aren't real, obviously - ha ha ha...]
[It is difficult to disagree with him, the idea that belief equals reality. She knows those who would certainly disagree with him, but then again they would disagree with her as well. Vanessa Ives has dedicated her soul to an entity that is actively silent when demons shriek freely.
All of those racing thoughts don't help her now as he remains cool and removed. Impossible to read. But he hasn't laughed, his look isn't full of contempt...]
Yes. My friend Mina, she has been taken by a fiend, fiends such as we speak about.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Terrible reason. It set Alucard on edge, especially with the past century of revolution in what was only now the Kingdom of Romania. Place names came and went, Ottomans gave way to Russians gave way to the Austro-Hungarians, gave way to independence, but there was still a sense of loss at Wallachia as it's own place. There was always the chance of another war, and now he was a continent away, unable to defend the castle and the Hold.
It was a pointless worry. Plenty of Belmonts remained to do just that, and so he was in London, doing what research he could. The lie of who he was this time (Adrian Ţepeş, an outed minor nobleman who had lost all when the Kingdom of Romania formed) was simple enough, and he could at least access archives and collections in spaces like the British Museum to attempt to understand what threat the Belmonts saw in London.
Which rather lead to here and now. Those same connections that let Alucard sit and assist with cataloging (because he was good at that) asked permission to pass his name along to someone doing research into Romanian folklore. He had agreed, made the appropriate appointment, and at this point, was making coffee in his kitchen.
The exterior of home was as plain a town home as anyone could hope for. Somber and of the time, with a bell attached. A bell attached that was ringing now, just as the coffee (in the style of the Ottomans) completed it's final boil.
Living alone meant that there was no one else to get the door. So Alucard poured the coffee into two tulip shaped glasses first, then went to greet his guest.
No creepy creaky door. No foreboding. Nothing looking out at Vanessa but a simply dressed man with hair a little too long for the time to be considered fashionable.]
Miss Ives, I presume?
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But after retrospective consideration one should have held no expectations when it came to those whose passion was esoteric knowledge. Which, in some ways, made them easier to flock together and exchange information. Like sought like and it would forever be easier to discuss the unbelievable with someone who already had a toe in the pool - so to speak.
Which suits her purposes well since there is little time to gently ease into the subject. Not to say Vanessa was about to spill her guts. Sensitive information must be guarded carefully and even with assurances that Mr. Tepes was discrete she would hold herself back. She had already slipped and let herself lose control, there would be no relapse.]
Mr. Tepes, thank you for agreeing to meet with me.
[The smile is polite, warm in a way that doesn't truly reach her a little too empty eyes. Stepping forward she offers her hand taking the moment to study him. Sharp angles like a concealed rapier, and a gold that holds a hint of something cold.]
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I couldn't say no to such a request. The parlor's on your right.
[He steps back to allow Vanessa in properly, careful to tread lightly without moving too quickly. To do so would give away his own nature, and it has been known to happen before.
It's a small town house, with the main stair case right in the hallway. No photos hang on the walls, and the walls are plain greys and off whites, suggesting a man who's only just moved in and lacked time to decorate. The parlor is no different, with equally plain walls and book cases that are only half filled. Even the furniture is plain, with no particular details on the wood - although the cushions themselves are wonderfully soft. A single sofa sits across from the fireplace (a mirror hangs over head), and two armchairs flank the sofa. A single coffee table mediates it all, but it all lacks a personal touch.
Alucard doesn't follow Vanessa there. He instead disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small tray of coffee. Two tulip shaped glasses of translucent blue sit there, along with a bowl of sugar cubes and little squares of...well, nothing English. The tray is set down on the table, and Alucard settles into one of the armchairs.]
I realize tea is traditional, but the Turkish style of coffee is unique. I'd recommend adding sugar, and drinking carefully when you're halfway through. The grounds sit at the bottom of the cup.
[Drinking coffee grinds is a bad time.]
There's baklava if you'd like it, I found a decent enough supplier and I grew up around those who worked in Ottoman kitchens and could reproduce the stuff. [That's his lie and he's sticking to it.]
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It will be interesting to see if she will find out more about him along with the lore she is looking to find. The absence of decor may lend insight. While presence of books, paintings, trappings gives light to the occupant so too does the lack of. Even if that insight is simply: unconcerned with outward appearance. Vanessa takes it all in as Adrian disappears and reappears with a tray which she takes as a cue to find a seat on the couch, setting her bag next to her.]
Both sound delightful, thank you Mr. Tepes. As a baklava novice I am sure this will be delicious, have no fear. The regular presence of coffee is a new development for me and I haven't quite adjusted to it. But I believe Turkish coffee differs from - [she struggles with how to classify it, she really is out of her depth here.] American coffee?
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[Alucard takes his own cup, adding two of the sugar cubes to it and then stirring.]
Likewise, it is more bitter. But we're not here for the history of coffee.
[Settling back into his seat, Alucard fixes Vanessa with a mildly curious stare.]
What interest do you have in my country's folklore?
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Vanessa follows Adrian's lead, two cubes of sugar and a slow stirring. The ritual of Turkish coffee. The glasses are beautiful, with the delicate handles and bowl of the cup. Once the mixture is stirred she sets the spoon on the saucer and redirects her attention to her host and his gaze.]
Ah, yes. A potentially intriguing topic to be sure; the more monstrous tales from your country. Ones of those who shun sunlight and are sustained by darker substances. It is an interest inspired by recent writings that my colleagues and I have come across.
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[Yes, the word vampire has been in circulation for a long enough time, but Alucard knows the part he is playing well an that means using the old words too. He's careful as he holds the coffee in his hand, face a careful blank as he responds in full.]
What of them, precisely? There's too many stories and variations for me to know where to begin without additional guidance, I'm afraid.
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Out interest mainly lies in their power, more specifically their power over others. [Another delicate, silent sip before she continues - a moment to gather her thoughts.] How to loosen that grip.
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[It isn't a joke, only a dry observation. One that means Alucard's attention is focused on Vanessa and her reaction, rather than the hot glass in his hand.]
Almost every solution to strigoi benefits from knowing their exact location. Otherwise, what is recommended is almost laughable unless you know the countryfolk of Romania and the greater Balkans. Garlic is a constant, as are religious symbols. Some cite wild rose or hawthorn as a deterrent, and so on. Apotropaic devices are often things of the local land. Hard to find in cities.
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[After another sip she sets the cup back in its saucer and looks up to take in his knowledge. Some of it is confirmation which is incredibly useful.] Is it true that the creature must also believe in the power of the device or symbol in order for it to be effective?
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[Alucard doesn't smile, but for a moment, his eyes are a little softer. Warmer. And then all turns back to business and the neutral tone comes back.]
For religious items, the answer is more about cultural dominance. For example: if an undead was from the subcontient, then Christian symbols might have no effect.
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[A polite inquiry to his residency and time in London in between gentle back and forth about the undead. From her purse she withdraws a small book and pencil to make a note.]
In the tales of the vampire - the strigoi. Have you ever come across how they organize themselves. One creature is not like the rest, there are, stages I believe?
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[He's too new to the city to have a social circle, too independent to want one. Alucard's aware that it shatters some of the narrative he's crafted for himself.]
Do you mean stages of transformation, or an organizational hierarchy? Those are two distinct things.
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[Speaking of which, she will absolutely help herself to a piece - thank you very much. It really would be rude not to and not simply because she has a sweet tooth.]
Both. [Vanessa smiles as she brings the delicate pastry to her lips.]
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[Alucard? Not wanting to deal with people? Shocking, truly.
But Vanessa says both, and Alucard lets out a tired sigh.]
Organizational hierarchy then, that's easier to begin with. Most stories agree that there is an element of territorialness to the creatures, and so large swaths of land are often theirs and theirs alone - like nobles carving up land to farm and place serfs on and raise cattle. In this metaphor, the cattle are humans, whereas the serfs are the occasional other undead. If a person is turned, they have a built in hierarchy to who was responsible for the act.
Do you follow thus far?
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[The question catches her off guard. Not because she wasn't following but because she finds it rather easy to follow. His framing makes it incredibly easy for her to grasp. Have others not? A sip of Turkish coffee washes away the sticky sweet of the pastry.]
Of course, please do go on.
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[Alucard waves one hand over his own coffee cup, letting the steam accumulate on his palm. There's a purpose there, to make sure his body temperature still feels human.]
The matter of turning is also where the other hierarchy comes in - that of age. Usually the younger undead is, the less powerful they are. As a result, they have far less in general - less territory. Less respect. Fewer hunting skills. If the vampire who turned them is invested in their well-being, that may change quicker.
But there is where most tales cease to agree.
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[Vanessa has worked out a system of small nibbles, brief sips and quick short hand in order to catch more of the pressing facts.]
These younger creatures, these newly formed. Do they possess any supernatural powers, or can they be redeemed?
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[Alucard's honestly impressed by the system, even if he says nothing of it. The pause allows him at least a moment to sip his own coffee. Then all but drain it.]
Redeemed as in returned to a human state? [He shakes his head no.] Undead is still a form of dead.
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[As for the juggling, everyone has to have some talent. Things calm down a bit when the coffee is finally finished but before the caffeine takes full effect.]
Ah. Yes, that is what I was curious about. Is there any way to save a person from the vampire's thrall?
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[It is very hard to tell, truly. But the matter returns to the real purpose of Vanessa's visit, and Alucard tuts softly.]
If they haven't been turned into a vampire, yes. But the quickest way to release that hold is to kill the vampire. [Moreover...] You're asking for practical purposes.
[It isn't a question.]
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Well, damn.
She should have been more on guard, more careful with her questions, paid closer attention. Less attention on him and more on her asking. Maybe too much coffee, she can feel her heart race the jitter starting there and radiating outward. Maybe it's just fear for her friend. For any desperate hope that they can save Mina.
Vanessa regards him steadily, searching for a read, for anything. Because vampires aren't real, obviously - ha ha ha...]
That would mean these monsters were real...
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[Alucard's response is cool and measured, giving nothing away. Making sure his fangs are well hidden.
He leans over, placing his coffee cup back on it's tray. When his eyes meet Vanessa's again, they're still cautious. Curious.]
Even if vampires are not real, someone believes they are effected by them. So that much qualifies as a reality in my mind.
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All of those racing thoughts don't help her now as he remains cool and removed. Impossible to read. But he hasn't laughed, his look isn't full of contempt...]
Yes. My friend Mina, she has been taken by a fiend, fiends such as we speak about.
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Even if he begins with an attempt.]
I'm sorry the circumstances are as such.
[But to fight it. That's the question.]
Taken only in spirit?
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