[ That's it, the last of his bravado. None left. It takes him a few seconds to remove his hand from his side, but he does. The puncture is low enough, at least, that the lack of punctured-intestine-smell means that it's probably been polite enough to be survivable. No exit wound. Survivable or not, it's still a bullet hole, and that's not a pleasant thing to happen. ]
Hurts.
[ He says it as if it's useful medical information. ]
Didn't really think that one through, did I? No idea where it might have gone.
[ The horror of the whole mess is finally starting to sink in, but he rests his hand on top of Alucard's. He's not alone, this time. Nobody died, this time. The cottage is much more on fire than it probably ought to be, but he's not alone, and that makes everything different. It hurts, shit it hurts, and his voice is still weak, but he's not alone this time. ]
Can you- I don't know. Feel it, or something? I don't know how castles work.
[ They're in a laboratory, and it looks as if a hurricane has torn through half of it. Tables are reduced to splinters, bookshelves smashed and their contents torn and scorched. What was once probably very elaborate, precise equipment now just broken glass and twisted metal on the floor.
And then the chaos ends, in one particular section. Lisa's books are left untouched. Her own equipment is still whole - recently polished, even. Her chair by the bookshelves is so untouched by the chaos that not even a splinter of wood or a fragment of torn paper has dirtied it, and its cushions have been fluffed recently.
Juliet says nothing, which is uncommon for her. She always has something to say about everything, and often a few sentences more than needs to be said to communicate. But now, now she just tugs at Alucard's arm and then reaches up, pulling his face down against her shoulder, burying it in her hair and collar so he doesn't have to see any more of this.
She'll start talking again in a moment or so, suggest that he become a bat so she can carry him through without him seeing anything more. But for now she says nothing. ]
[ It's similar, the texture of it. Thick and rough and maybe not washed as recently as it ought to have been, with tiny missed bits of leaves still there in it. Trevor reaches his free hand up unsteadily. He can't quite manage the precision of movement needed to stroke Alucard's hair, but he just about manages letting his hand flop down on the top of his head. ]
We're not dead. [ He confirms, because that's the only true, positive thing that could be said about this. ]
Away from the road. It's about a quarter-mile, but there's a bit of land that's no good for farming. Shouldn't- [ Shit, talking hurts. ] -shouldn't be anyone there.
[ As for what'll happen if the castle comes here without a building to inhabit, that's going to have to be something they figure out as they go along. He needs to go somewhere to treat this thing, and anywhere nearby has suddenly become wildly unsafe. ]
[It's the worst of the flashbacks so far. The broken glass. The feeling of just barely surviving. All of it. And that Trevor's hair may as well be his great-aunt's does nothing to help.
The dhampir is as still as the grave, unable to move. Caught between two times, screaming at both in terror for very different reasons.
We're not dead.]
Okay. [He breathes out. Centering himself. Returning to the present.] We'll go there.
[ It's still unsteady, the way he moves his arms, and he has to move them one at a time. But he gets them around Alucard's neck, holding on as tightly as he can manage.
And it's- strange. More than most things so far. The moment was too panicked before, in the burning cottage, to appreciate the fact that this coffin man, the man he's been dragging around with him all his life, is alive. Alive and real and dragging him around in turn.
He doesn't know how to feel about being protected, but it seems. Nice. He's got a hole in him and he's bleeding and fuck if he's going to have anything close to a peaceful sleep for the next month no matter how much he drinks. And yet it's nice, to know that he can be at least a little weak right now, if only physically. ]
You're looking for a stream - you don't need to cross it. [ Alucard has already crossed water. That was very much a thing he did. They were in a boat. But still. ] Follow it until everything gets really fucking overgrown.
[Alucard takes Trevor's weight all too easily. It's like carrying a little sack of grapes if he's being honest, and as he walks forward?
No. He can't imagine what it'd be like, walking away from a burning wreck. Someone in his arms, gloriously alive instead of all the variations on the other option. He has to stay focused and in the moment. Eyes ahead. Ignoring the scent of blood in the air.]
I can cross streams, Belmont.
[The tone is soft. Chiding. And so Alucard keeps moving them both, to the stream. Along to the undergrowth.]
Keep talking to me, so I know you're not passed out of blood loss.
[ Hey, last time he made an assumption about what you could do it almost ended badly. ]
I don't know what the fuck to say. I- [ How does one make small talk. He tries to come up with topics that aren't awful or related to drinking or- anything like that. And it's a combination of the lack of things to say that aren't awful and the dizziness from blood loss that leads to- ]
Have you seen her, whenever she gets a blanket, or the cloak, or anything? [ He laughs, then regrets it. It's fond and also fucking painful. ] Like a caterpillar, if instead of turning into butterflies they just got morning hair.
Dunno. I just wanted someone to agree with me that her hair looks ridiculous first thing in the morning.
[ Trevor nobody in this party is immune to morning hair. ]
It’s nice, this. Except for the bullet. Been doing this shit on my own for so long, I forgot that sometimes people wrap themselves up in blankets weird and it makes all of this worth it.
It's fine. [Alucard's voice is soft, trying to be soothing instead and--
--the wind picks up. Slow at first and then wildly, tree branches flying. Rocks coming soon after. The ground rumbling, furious and cracking and heralding something terrible.
For the first time, the castle appears as itself. It is jet black, the spires crumbling. Wearing it's age, and yet even then, it imposes.
[ Familiar, in a way nothing should ever be. In a way that it wasn't whn it was the abbey or the cottage. It doesn't feel like returning to a long-lost home, that's not even close to what this edifice is, but the strength of it is the same. The sense of calling. It's the end of a nine-century journey, the culmination of a quest that's lasted more lifetimes then he's lived years or scars. ]
-that's what it looks like, without the mask on. Fuck. [ For a second, he's forgotten the lump of metal lodged in his side. Forgotten that they need to find blood for the vampire. Forgotten everything but the thing looming over them. ]
[That's all Alucard says before walking through the door. It is good, seeing the castle again even if it is ailing. It is home, far better than the masks it wore. And as it is home, the entrance is a little grander. A little warmer. A wing has manifested, and it has a kitchen.
So the kitchen is where Alucard carries Trevor to, knowing that it's the only operating theatre available to them now.]
I'll have to get supplies before I try to remove the bullet. What I'll do is place you down on the kitchen table, and then go get what's needed. Promise me that you'll stay awake.
[ Something's wrong, he can feel it as they enter. But for the life of him, he can't place his finger on what. Between the pain and the bloodloss and the sheer fucking awe, thinking is like moving through knee-deep mud right now.
Perhaps it's just that the place- it's nowhere near in good repair now, but it's a lot healthier than it was a few hours ago. Cracks in the walls are sealed with something that he knows can't really be molten rock but that certainly looks the part, glowing softly in the darker parts of the rafters. Furniture that had been broken from centuries of disrepair is now only very, very worn from centuries of disrepair. The kitchen is cleaner than any of the parts that the castle grew before were, free of dust if not of wear. ]
Go find your shit. Don't worry, I'm not about to get up and go anywhere while you're gone.
[ No matter how overwarm the kitchen's fire is. Sypha will no doubt show up eventually, and he'll ask her to get it down to a bearable level.
[Alucard's face sours, and he disappears down the corridor they came down. As he walks, he tries to will the castle to manifest something useful. His father's labs. His mother's. Something that has bandages and alcohol so that the wound can get seen to.
The castle offers nothing. Just corridor. Corridor that shakes, making it clear the castle is trying so, so hard.
[ He opens his mouth to try to say- he doesn’t know. To apologise? To double down? It doesn’t really matter, Alucard leaves before he can decide. That’s fine. He probably deserves to stew a little for that attempt at a joke.
Or, he probably deserves to stew figuratively. Not literally, as is happening right now. Why is that fire so hot? And why is it moving like that? ]
I am trying!
[ The voice is the kind of frustrated that one can only ever be with oneself. It’s also mostly Sypha’s, with an undercurrent of settling earth. Then from the kicthen there’s a thump and a yell of pain and surprise that sound very much like a Belmont has fallen off the table ]
[Sypha's voice rings out as clear as a bell. But the sound of earth, that is new. He doesn't like it, and so the quest to find supplies is abandoned as Alucard races back.]
Don't remove the bullet yet, I don't have any bandages!
[He yells it out into the corridor, praying that the voice will carry.]
[ Trevor is on the ground, clawing at the floor to move back and away from the fireplace, as the fire climbs out from it. It stands, on legs that look like they might be human, and steps forward.
The flames come together into something more solid, into softly glowing skin, and most of Sypha is standing before them. What is missing of her is a large section of her chest on the left side, and the inside of her body is made up of that molten rock like substance. Inside that cavity, where her heard ought to be, that many-sided heart of the castle spins. ]
I told you, I am trying to find them!
[ And she reaches out, hand sinking into the wall behind her, and tears it away as if splashing a pond to disturb the reflection. When it settles, it’s a wall from a different room. One, it seems, with a medicine cabinet. ]
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[ That's it, the last of his bravado. None left. It takes him a few seconds to remove his hand from his side, but he does. The puncture is low enough, at least, that the lack of punctured-intestine-smell means that it's probably been polite enough to be survivable. No exit wound. Survivable or not, it's still a bullet hole, and that's not a pleasant thing to happen. ]
Hurts.
[ He says it as if it's useful medical information. ]
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[Alucard moves his own hand to cover the wound. Applies pressure as carefully as he can.]
I'm going to carry you. You can't be walking on a wound like that.
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[ The horror of the whole mess is finally starting to sink in, but he rests his hand on top of Alucard's. He's not alone, this time. Nobody died, this time. The cottage is much more on fire than it probably ought to be, but he's not alone, and that makes everything different. It hurts, shit it hurts, and his voice is still weak, but he's not alone this time. ]
Can you- I don't know. Feel it, or something? I don't know how castles work.
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[It isn't fine. Alucard's mind is thinking of centuries ago, and it's a miracle he's managing sentences right now.
With Trevor's hand on his. Alucard leans over, and his face buries in Trevor's hair for a moment. He takes it, gathering himself. Deep breaths.]
No. Is there a field near by? It'll be easier to ask it to come to us, then have it carry all of us away.
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And then the chaos ends, in one particular section. Lisa's books are left untouched. Her own equipment is still whole - recently polished, even. Her chair by the bookshelves is so untouched by the chaos that not even a splinter of wood or a fragment of torn paper has dirtied it, and its cushions have been fluffed recently.
Juliet says nothing, which is uncommon for her. She always has something to say about everything, and often a few sentences more than needs to be said to communicate. But now, now she just tugs at Alucard's arm and then reaches up, pulling his face down against her shoulder, burying it in her hair and collar so he doesn't have to see any more of this.
She'll start talking again in a moment or so, suggest that he become a bat so she can carry him through without him seeing anything more. But for now she says nothing. ]
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We're not dead. [ He confirms, because that's the only true, positive thing that could be said about this. ]
Away from the road. It's about a quarter-mile, but there's a bit of land that's no good for farming. Shouldn't- [ Shit, talking hurts. ] -shouldn't be anyone there.
[ As for what'll happen if the castle comes here without a building to inhabit, that's going to have to be something they figure out as they go along. He needs to go somewhere to treat this thing, and anywhere nearby has suddenly become wildly unsafe. ]
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The dhampir is as still as the grave, unable to move. Caught between two times, screaming at both in terror for very different reasons.
We're not dead.]
Okay. [He breathes out. Centering himself. Returning to the present.] We'll go there.
[They have to move. That's good.]
Put your arms around my neck.
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[ It's still unsteady, the way he moves his arms, and he has to move them one at a time. But he gets them around Alucard's neck, holding on as tightly as he can manage.
And it's- strange. More than most things so far. The moment was too panicked before, in the burning cottage, to appreciate the fact that this coffin man, the man he's been dragging around with him all his life, is alive. Alive and real and dragging him around in turn.
He doesn't know how to feel about being protected, but it seems. Nice. He's got a hole in him and he's bleeding and fuck if he's going to have anything close to a peaceful sleep for the next month no matter how much he drinks. And yet it's nice, to know that he can be at least a little weak right now, if only physically. ]
You're looking for a stream - you don't need to cross it. [ Alucard has already crossed water. That was very much a thing he did. They were in a boat. But still. ] Follow it until everything gets really fucking overgrown.
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No. He can't imagine what it'd be like, walking away from a burning wreck. Someone in his arms, gloriously alive instead of all the variations on the other option. He has to stay focused and in the moment. Eyes ahead. Ignoring the scent of blood in the air.]
I can cross streams, Belmont.
[The tone is soft. Chiding. And so Alucard keeps moving them both, to the stream. Along to the undergrowth.]
Keep talking to me, so I know you're not passed out of blood loss.
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[ Hey, last time he made an assumption about what you could do it almost ended badly. ]
I don't know what the fuck to say. I- [ How does one make small talk. He tries to come up with topics that aren't awful or related to drinking or- anything like that. And it's a combination of the lack of things to say that aren't awful and the dizziness from blood loss that leads to- ]
Have you seen her, whenever she gets a blanket, or the cloak, or anything? [ He laughs, then regrets it. It's fond and also fucking painful. ] Like a caterpillar, if instead of turning into butterflies they just got morning hair.
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[That much isn't a lie. Alucard keeps moving, listening.]
You like her, don't you?
[Alucard's figured out that much. He keeps them moving, listening to the running water.
Nothing is overgrown enough yet.]
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[ Trevor nobody in this party is immune to morning hair. ]
It’s nice, this. Except for the bullet. Been doing this shit on my own for so long, I forgot that sometimes people wrap themselves up in blankets weird and it makes all of this worth it.
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[It's worse Trevor.]
At the risk of sentiment, you're not currently alone. Although I don't like all the blood in the air.
[There he said it.]
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[ Wait shit what. ]
Shit. You’re not going to go into some sort of blood frenzy, are you?
[ KIND OF A RUDE QUESTION. ] Or- shit. Do you need- Have we been starving you?
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[For a moment, Alucard bounces Trevor, shifting the distribution of weight. And there they are. The stream. It's overgrown and--]
Okay. I'm going to put you down for a moment.
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Well shit. If I'd known about an hour ago-
[ He can't really offer much blood right now other than what he's losing already. ]
-Can't do much about that for a couple days, now, unless you want to wring out my tunic to get all the blood that's got into that.
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--the wind picks up. Slow at first and then wildly, tree branches flying. Rocks coming soon after. The ground rumbling, furious and cracking and heralding something terrible.
For the first time, the castle appears as itself. It is jet black, the spires crumbling. Wearing it's age, and yet even then, it imposes.
Alucard breathes out. Nudges Trevor gently.]
Ready?
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[ Familiar, in a way nothing should ever be. In a way that it wasn't whn it was the abbey or the cottage. It doesn't feel like returning to a long-lost home, that's not even close to what this edifice is, but the strength of it is the same. The sense of calling. It's the end of a nine-century journey, the culmination of a quest that's lasted more lifetimes then he's lived years or scars. ]
-that's what it looks like, without the mask on. Fuck. [ For a second, he's forgotten the lump of metal lodged in his side. Forgotten that they need to find blood for the vampire. Forgotten everything but the thing looming over them. ]
Yeah. Ready.
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[That's all Alucard says before walking through the door. It is good, seeing the castle again even if it is ailing. It is home, far better than the masks it wore. And as it is home, the entrance is a little grander. A little warmer. A wing has manifested, and it has a kitchen.
So the kitchen is where Alucard carries Trevor to, knowing that it's the only operating theatre available to them now.]
I'll have to get supplies before I try to remove the bullet. What I'll do is place you down on the kitchen table, and then go get what's needed. Promise me that you'll stay awake.
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[ Something's wrong, he can feel it as they enter. But for the life of him, he can't place his finger on what. Between the pain and the bloodloss and the sheer fucking awe, thinking is like moving through knee-deep mud right now.
Perhaps it's just that the place- it's nowhere near in good repair now, but it's a lot healthier than it was a few hours ago. Cracks in the walls are sealed with something that he knows can't really be molten rock but that certainly looks the part, glowing softly in the darker parts of the rafters. Furniture that had been broken from centuries of disrepair is now only very, very worn from centuries of disrepair. The kitchen is cleaner than any of the parts that the castle grew before were, free of dust if not of wear. ]
Go find your shit. Don't worry, I'm not about to get up and go anywhere while you're gone.
[ No matter how overwarm the kitchen's fire is. Sypha will no doubt show up eventually, and he'll ask her to get it down to a bearable level.
...where is Sypha? ]
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[Alucard's face sours, and he disappears down the corridor they came down. As he walks, he tries to will the castle to manifest something useful. His father's labs. His mother's. Something that has bandages and alcohol so that the wound can get seen to.
The castle offers nothing. Just corridor. Corridor that shakes, making it clear the castle is trying so, so hard.
He's far from Trevor.]
Please. Anything you can manage.
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Or, he probably deserves to stew figuratively. Not literally, as is happening right now. Why is that fire so hot? And why is it moving like that? ]
I am trying!
[ The voice is the kind of frustrated that one can only ever be with oneself. It’s also mostly Sypha’s, with an undercurrent of settling earth. Then from the kicthen there’s a thump and a yell of pain and surprise that sound very much like a Belmont has fallen off the table ]
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Don't remove the bullet yet, I don't have any bandages!
[He yells it out into the corridor, praying that the voice will carry.]
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The flames come together into something more solid, into softly glowing skin, and most of Sypha is standing before them. What is missing of her is a large section of her chest on the left side, and the inside of her body is made up of that molten rock like substance. Inside that cavity, where her heard ought to be, that many-sided heart of the castle spins. ]
I told you, I am trying to find them!
[ And she reaches out, hand sinking into the wall behind her, and tears it away as if splashing a pond to disturb the reflection. When it settles, it’s a wall from a different room. One, it seems, with a medicine cabinet. ]
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...Sypha. Emerging from flames like a phoenix, and Alucard can only stare. Words try to form. Fail. Try again.
It happens for what feels like an eternity, the dhampir simply struck dumb with true awe. And so he manages, finally:]
What the fuck.
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WAIT SHIT THIS ONE SHOULD HAVE BEEN FIRST
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