[ Something horrible flashes over Trevor's face, just for a moment. Disgust and hurt and betrayal and shame. And then it's gone. His breathing becomes steady, with only the occasional hitch as his side troubles him. ]
Find them, then. Leave them for him. Come back here.
Alucard narrows his eyes, but doesn't move. He expected the whip, in truth. That kind of swift and sometimes very stupid Belmont judgement that is the mark of them all. Not...not what this is.]
And how do you expect Sypha will react to that? Or have you forgotten the fact she's fused herself with my home?
[Alucard breathes out, coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.]
Never mind that you're out of bed, aggravating that injury far more than you should have. And that you ignored my comments about how a taste could trigger a frenzy and proceeded to shove your fist in my mouth!
Are you always like this or does injury and blood loss cause your plans to hit an incredible level of stupid?
[ Well no. It's a good point. But it's not one that Trevor's particularly concerned about. He moves his arm back and forth impatiently and the whip shifts along the ground like an extension of him. ]
Are you going to get those bandages or not? I'm not having a great time standing around here.
[ Fine. If he isn't going to finish his fucking bandage errand, then Trevor's sick of stalling. With a flick of his wrist, the whip is suddenly flying toward Alucard. ]
[It isn't an artful dodge. Actually, it isn't a dodge at all.
Alucard only steps back, letting the whip graze him. It'll hurt, yes, but he's dealt with this weapon before. He can anticipate the pain, and sure enough, his wrist bears the brunt of the pain.
But nothing hurts.
One couldn't tell that from Alucard's face though, as there is pain there. Pain and--]
Belmont.
[There's more weight in that surname now. It's coupled with something that's about to break.]
[ Everything is so, so distant. Everything is always distant. If it weren't for his enhanced senses there would be nothing at all.
Footsteps. The scraping of a chair. ]
Well. Fancy seeing you down here.
[ It's muffled. But then the temperature and humidity changes that tiniest little bit. The coffin's lid has been opened. The next time the voice speaks, it's clearer. ]
It's been a while since I came to visit you. I'm sorry. I've been- away from home.
[ The smell of blood. Clotted and masked by the smell of disinfectant and clean linen. Dressings changed within the last few hours. Fingers brush over Alucard's cheek, through his hair, curling a lock of it around a little finger. A laugh. Warm. Tired. So very, very tired. ]
Look at you, all whole again. The speakers looked over you while I was away, you know. It's safe to release the spell now.
[ The smells, all of them - the clotted blood and the clean linen and the disinfectant and the damp leaves and dirt under fingernails and candied hazelnuts and nothing else for whatever meal was last and wet dogs and dry dogs - all of them draw closer. There's warmth, a weight above Alucard. And as lips brush against his, everything is perfectly clear. The magic's hold loosens, begins to release him.
And then, the clearer things go, the clearer one more smell becomes. Fainter, hidden in among all the others. It's sweet in a more sinister way than the candied nuts, the horrible cloying sweetness of rot. It's there, mixed in with the blood. He could map out every capillary in her body by the smell of it alone, follow its spread. Follow it to the brain, too firmly rooted there to be moved.
The answer, the horrible answer, almost comes to him. But the body protects the mind, and the spell fortifies the body. The smells vanish. The voices vanish. The last sensation is the lips leaving his, and then there is nothing.
By the time sound returns, the voices are different. The same accents on different people. The smells of different dogs. Nobody lifts the coffin's lid. ]
[ Don't ask him questions when he's trying to kill you! Rude! He almost doesn't answer and just attacks again, but then he looks down the whip. The whip that's coiled itself harmlessly around Alucard's wrist. ]
-you knew her. Shit. You knew her.
[ The anger doesn't melt away, but something replaces it. He doesn't quite know what. ]
Let me- shit. Let me sit down. I'll kill you once you know.
How do you think my father was defeated in their time, Belmont?
[Alucard can feel the rawness of mourning threatening to take over in full. He's dodged so much of it already, mostly by circumstance. The days have been so busy that when he's slept, his mind has been quiet. Ignoring the guilt of patricide and the regret of lost love.
That goddamn spell. He could have healed without it. Maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe...
I don't fucking know. Apparently most of it was made up.
[ He flicks his wrist, trying to uncoil the whip from around Alucard's wrist. it resists, just for a moment, and then falls to the ground. As does he, gracelessly, letting his legs buckle under his weight and drop him butt-first into the grass. ]
She was turned. Usually the dogs catch it in time, but it started in the brain. There's no way to avert that, even now, no matter how early it's caught.
[ He places the whip in the grass. It's similar to Juliet's own. The leather slightly darker. A small rabbit etched into the handle, opposite the family crest. ]
This is what we do, if that happens. What we've always done. We prepare them when we're young and just- keep them around. I have one for myself in case the worst happens, not that there's anyone for it to be any use to.
She wants to add that you're being an idiot by the way.
[The attempt at humor falls so flat. And that's for the better, because Trevor's words gut the vampire at the core. He doesn't fall. He doesn't sit, or do anything for a long, unending moment of silence. He simply feels every inch of his body twist inside, tighter and tigether.
The brain.
How the fuck did it start in the brain?
No. Happier in ignorance.
A long exhale finally happens. When he speaks, Alucard's voice cracks.]
I know- I know it's a couple centuries late, but I'm sorry for your loss.
[ He could tell Alucard more, give him a name, but Bluebeard is well known even among humans. Even if it was a few years both before and after his time, he can investigate. Giving him Bluebeards name may as well be giving him every grisly detail. ]
I- fuck. Look, I still kind of want to kill you. But since the whip isn't fucking cooperating and I didn't bring a sword, I can't. Let me rethink that 'doing this once I'm healed up' thing?
[There's just an awful little shrug from the vampire. A noise of acknowledgement that Trevor's said something, but no real response. He has no desire to use words to reply. Or look Trevor in the eye. Or do just about anything else that isn't becoming a wolf again.
A wolf who walks in the opposite direction of Trevor.
He should, he should make sure that Trevor gets back to the castle safely before doing anything else. But grief is an all consuming thing, and it has hit like a tidal wave. He's already drowning. Better to drown alone than drag another down with him.]
[ Should he follow? He hasn't been invited to. And he's still furious, even if that fury is tempered by all of this. And he should probably get back to the castle before Sypha realises he's gone and does something else stupid.
He stands. ]
Wait.
[ He's struggling as he hobbles after Alucard, but he can keep pace as long as the wolf is walking rather than running. ]
[ He catches up and reaches out, resting a hand on Alucard's wolf head. ]
-I don't want you to be alone right now. I want you dead, not miserable. Let me- [ ugh, emotions are hard. He sinks to the ground, kneeling and wrapping his arms around Alucard's neck in a weird, uncomfortable hug. ] -let me stay with you.
It's instinct now. Trevor's made no point in hiding a desire to kill the vampire. He needs to be away. Somewhere that he can be alone with his grief.
He stiffens when Trevor's arms wrap around him. It is absolute a weird and uncomfortable hug. Every part of Alucard wants to pull away, save for the little part of him that realizes that Trevor still sees some kind of connection that Alucard embodies. He should respect that.
But also fuck him.
So he stays still. A better statue now than when he was in the damn coffin.]
[ His arms shift, just a little. Wrapping something around Alucard. And then there are other arms, slightly thinner, wrapping around him from the other side. A warm weight against his back. A face with no stubble burying itself in his fur.
It's the whip. Coiled about his neck. Trevor ties it, then lets go of Alucard entirely. the weight and the thinner arms remain. He scoots back a little. ]
Like I said before. Take care of whatever you need to do. Then come back so I can kill you.
[The wolf doesn't know if he should take the whip. It feels wrong, and as good and warm and wonderful as the invisible arms around him are, it'll be worse if he has that embrace. Mourning means saying good bye properly, and so after a moment more, he gently paws at the whip. Trevor shouldn't be without it.
Then he goes. He runs at the speed only vampires can move at, not caring where his feet take him. Only that he is gone, and perhaps now, he should stay that way. What's left for him anyway? A ruined castle of wrecked memories. The scion of a family that save for a single generation, would have killed him anyway. Sypha has already taken command of the castle, and maybe that's better too. Safer. The world has moved on. He isn't needed anymore.
He is a wolf or a bat as he retreats into nature. Finds good places to hide. Where his howls will disturb no humans, and where there are no other wolves who will see him is a threat. Or else as a bat he curls up on himself so tightly that he might as well combust.
But it is easier. No matter what, it is easier. Their brains are smaller. It's easier to process, and so he stays in these forms. Drinks from animals when he must. Ignores the concern that ripples out from the castle every so often. Really ignores it when the castle tells him to come back.
He's moved so far. He's run almost every day, further and further from the castle.
To one of the attempts at summons, he only replies You don't need me and mutes the connection.]
[ She pushes past Alucard, reaching out with a lack of caution that's unusual for her and dangerous in a place like this. It's a secret room, one that had clearly been bricked off centuries ago but that Dracula's rampage though his own home has revealed. ]
-it really is!
[ There is a single thing in the centre of the small room. An ornate reliquary of gold and crystal glass, and inside it- ]
The Morning Star! The Morning Star! It's been here, all along? Why on earth would-
[ No, she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She turns around, gleeful, reaching out for Alucard's hands. ]
Adrian. I think- I think we can do this. This has to be a sign- we're not going to die here.
The castle moves, and Trevor doesn't care. It takes Sypha a few days to get the truth out of him, and she's furious with both of them, and Trevor doesn't care. She's too lonely to give anyone the silent treatment for long, and Trevor tries to care. She breaks down in frustration when he doesn't respond to her calls, and Trevor cares.
It's a little like kissing fire, save for that there's no lasting burn. It's painful and he can swear he feels his skin blister but it doesn't. It's probably a good thing that she's still furious enough with him that they don't kiss often. Only when she's lonely and afraid.
Alucard doesn't return, and Trevor doesn't care. Perhaps it's better that way. He doesn't have to kill him.
They work. Trevor goes out - Sypha can't leave the castle like this - to gather information and they pour over it together. Sightings of Spring Heel in new places, spreading further and further outward from London's centre. A few incidents with night creatures trying to take the castle that are dealt with soundly.
And then Sypha falls ill. It's not dramatic, not from a physical point of view. She starts referring to herself as 'we' instead of 'I'. The spinning thing that is her heart slows, moving in short and predictable beats as a human heart might instead of spinning.
But through the connection, it's clearer. Sypha's voice and the castle's are no longer separable. Her thoughts in the summons are muddled. She would probably never refer to Alucard as my princein a non-sexy setting. Something is wrong. Something is going very wrong, and if it is reversible if may not be for long. ]
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[ Something horrible flashes over Trevor's face, just for a moment. Disgust and hurt and betrayal and shame. And then it's gone. His breathing becomes steady, with only the occasional hitch as his side troubles him. ]
Find them, then. Leave them for him. Come back here.
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Alucard narrows his eyes, but doesn't move. He expected the whip, in truth. That kind of swift and sometimes very stupid Belmont judgement that is the mark of them all. Not...not what this is.]
Belmont?
[The question is soft. Confused.]
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[ Then, flatly. ]
I'm going to kill you. Finish your business first.
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[Alucard breathes out, coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.]
Never mind that you're out of bed, aggravating that injury far more than you should have. And that you ignored my comments about how a taste could trigger a frenzy and proceeded to shove your fist in my mouth!
Are you always like this or does injury and blood loss cause your plans to hit an incredible level of stupid?
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[ He cares. About a good third of that, anyway. But he's never been one to let caring change what he does. ]
I'm giving you a chance to finish your business because the frenzy was my fault. But you could have chosen to take from me. From someone willing.
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[ Well no. It's a good point. But it's not one that Trevor's particularly concerned about. He moves his arm back and forth impatiently and the whip shifts along the ground like an extension of him. ]
Are you going to get those bandages or not? I'm not having a great time standing around here.
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[ Fine. If he isn't going to finish his fucking bandage errand, then Trevor's sick of stalling. With a flick of his wrist, the whip is suddenly flying toward Alucard. ]
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Alucard only steps back, letting the whip graze him. It'll hurt, yes, but he's dealt with this weapon before. He can anticipate the pain, and sure enough, his wrist bears the brunt of the pain.
But nothing hurts.
One couldn't tell that from Alucard's face though, as there is pain there. Pain and--]
Belmont.
[There's more weight in that surname now. It's coupled with something that's about to break.]
Your great-many-times over-Juliet. What happened?
[Alucard knows. But he needs to say it out loud.]
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Footsteps. The scraping of a chair. ]
Well. Fancy seeing you down here.
[ It's muffled. But then the temperature and humidity changes that tiniest little bit. The coffin's lid has been opened. The next time the voice speaks, it's clearer. ]
It's been a while since I came to visit you. I'm sorry. I've been- away from home.
[ The smell of blood. Clotted and masked by the smell of disinfectant and clean linen. Dressings changed within the last few hours. Fingers brush over Alucard's cheek, through his hair, curling a lock of it around a little finger. A laugh. Warm. Tired. So very, very tired. ]
Look at you, all whole again. The speakers looked over you while I was away, you know. It's safe to release the spell now.
[ The smells, all of them - the clotted blood and the clean linen and the disinfectant and the damp leaves and dirt under fingernails and candied hazelnuts and nothing else for whatever meal was last and wet dogs and dry dogs - all of them draw closer. There's warmth, a weight above Alucard. And as lips brush against his, everything is perfectly clear. The magic's hold loosens, begins to release him.
And then, the clearer things go, the clearer one more smell becomes. Fainter, hidden in among all the others. It's sweet in a more sinister way than the candied nuts, the horrible cloying sweetness of rot. It's there, mixed in with the blood. He could map out every capillary in her body by the smell of it alone, follow its spread. Follow it to the brain, too firmly rooted there to be moved.
The answer, the horrible answer, almost comes to him. But the body protects the mind, and the spell fortifies the body. The smells vanish. The voices vanish. The last sensation is the lips leaving his, and then there is nothing.
By the time sound returns, the voices are different. The same accents on different people. The smells of different dogs. Nobody lifts the coffin's lid. ]
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[ Don't ask him questions when he's trying to kill you! Rude! He almost doesn't answer and just attacks again, but then he looks down the whip. The whip that's coiled itself harmlessly around Alucard's wrist. ]
-you knew her. Shit. You knew her.
[ The anger doesn't melt away, but something replaces it. He doesn't quite know what. ]
Let me- shit. Let me sit down. I'll kill you once you know.
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[Alucard can feel the rawness of mourning threatening to take over in full. He's dodged so much of it already, mostly by circumstance. The days have been so busy that when he's slept, his mind has been quiet. Ignoring the guilt of patricide and the regret of lost love.
That goddamn spell. He could have healed without it. Maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe...
...fuck. Now everything hurts.]
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[ He flicks his wrist, trying to uncoil the whip from around Alucard's wrist. it resists, just for a moment, and then falls to the ground. As does he, gracelessly, letting his legs buckle under his weight and drop him butt-first into the grass. ]
She was turned. Usually the dogs catch it in time, but it started in the brain. There's no way to avert that, even now, no matter how early it's caught.
[ He places the whip in the grass. It's similar to Juliet's own. The leather slightly darker. A small rabbit etched into the handle, opposite the family crest. ]
This is what we do, if that happens. What we've always done. We prepare them when we're young and just- keep them around. I have one for myself in case the worst happens, not that there's anyone for it to be any use to.
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[The attempt at humor falls so flat. And that's for the better, because Trevor's words gut the vampire at the core. He doesn't fall. He doesn't sit, or do anything for a long, unending moment of silence. He simply feels every inch of his body twist inside, tighter and tigether.
The brain.
How the fuck did it start in the brain?
No. Happier in ignorance.
A long exhale finally happens. When he speaks, Alucard's voice cracks.]
That damned spell.
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[ He could tell Alucard more, give him a name, but Bluebeard is well known even among humans. Even if it was a few years both before and after his time, he can investigate. Giving him Bluebeards name may as well be giving him every grisly detail. ]
I- fuck. Look, I still kind of want to kill you. But since the whip isn't fucking cooperating and I didn't bring a sword, I can't. Let me rethink that 'doing this once I'm healed up' thing?
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A wolf who walks in the opposite direction of Trevor.
He should, he should make sure that Trevor gets back to the castle safely before doing anything else. But grief is an all consuming thing, and it has hit like a tidal wave. He's already drowning. Better to drown alone than drag another down with him.]
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He stands. ]
Wait.
[ He's struggling as he hobbles after Alucard, but he can keep pace as long as the wolf is walking rather than running. ]
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A low, unhappy growl comes with that.
What?]
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[ He catches up and reaches out, resting a hand on Alucard's wolf head. ]
-I don't want you to be alone right now. I want you dead, not miserable. Let me- [ ugh, emotions are hard. He sinks to the ground, kneeling and wrapping his arms around Alucard's neck in a weird, uncomfortable hug. ] -let me stay with you.
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It's instinct now. Trevor's made no point in hiding a desire to kill the vampire. He needs to be away. Somewhere that he can be alone with his grief.
He stiffens when Trevor's arms wrap around him. It is absolute a weird and uncomfortable hug. Every part of Alucard wants to pull away, save for the little part of him that realizes that Trevor still sees some kind of connection that Alucard embodies. He should respect that.
But also fuck him.
So he stays still. A better statue now than when he was in the damn coffin.]
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[ His arms shift, just a little. Wrapping something around Alucard. And then there are other arms, slightly thinner, wrapping around him from the other side. A warm weight against his back. A face with no stubble burying itself in his fur.
It's the whip. Coiled about his neck. Trevor ties it, then lets go of Alucard entirely. the weight and the thinner arms remain. He scoots back a little. ]
Like I said before. Take care of whatever you need to do. Then come back so I can kill you.
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Then he goes. He runs at the speed only vampires can move at, not caring where his feet take him. Only that he is gone, and perhaps now, he should stay that way. What's left for him anyway? A ruined castle of wrecked memories. The scion of a family that save for a single generation, would have killed him anyway. Sypha has already taken command of the castle, and maybe that's better too. Safer. The world has moved on. He isn't needed anymore.
He is a wolf or a bat as he retreats into nature. Finds good places to hide. Where his howls will disturb no humans, and where there are no other wolves who will see him is a threat. Or else as a bat he curls up on himself so tightly that he might as well combust.
But it is easier. No matter what, it is easier. Their brains are smaller. It's easier to process, and so he stays in these forms. Drinks from animals when he must. Ignores the concern that ripples out from the castle every so often. Really ignores it when the castle tells him to come back.
He's moved so far. He's run almost every day, further and further from the castle.
To one of the attempts at summons, he only replies You don't need me and mutes the connection.]
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[ She pushes past Alucard, reaching out with a lack of caution that's unusual for her and dangerous in a place like this. It's a secret room, one that had clearly been bricked off centuries ago but that Dracula's rampage though his own home has revealed. ]
-it really is!
[ There is a single thing in the centre of the small room. An ornate reliquary of gold and crystal glass, and inside it- ]
The Morning Star! The Morning Star! It's been here, all along? Why on earth would-
[ No, she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She turns around, gleeful, reaching out for Alucard's hands. ]
Adrian. I think- I think we can do this. This has to be a sign- we're not going to die here.
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The castle moves, and Trevor doesn't care. It takes Sypha a few days to get the truth out of him, and she's furious with both of them, and Trevor doesn't care. She's too lonely to give anyone the silent treatment for long, and Trevor tries to care. She breaks down in frustration when he doesn't respond to her calls, and Trevor cares.
It's a little like kissing fire, save for that there's no lasting burn. It's painful and he can swear he feels his skin blister but it doesn't. It's probably a good thing that she's still furious enough with him that they don't kiss often. Only when she's lonely and afraid.
Alucard doesn't return, and Trevor doesn't care. Perhaps it's better that way. He doesn't have to kill him.
They work. Trevor goes out - Sypha can't leave the castle like this - to gather information and they pour over it together. Sightings of Spring Heel in new places, spreading further and further outward from London's centre. A few incidents with night creatures trying to take the castle that are dealt with soundly.
And then Sypha falls ill. It's not dramatic, not from a physical point of view. She starts referring to herself as 'we' instead of 'I'. The spinning thing that is her heart slows, moving in short and predictable beats as a human heart might instead of spinning.
But through the connection, it's clearer. Sypha's voice and the castle's are no longer separable. Her thoughts in the summons are muddled. She would probably never refer to Alucard as my prince
in a non-sexy setting. Something is wrong. Something is going very wrong, and if it is reversible if may not be for long. ](no subject)
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WAIT SHIT THIS ONE SHOULD HAVE BEEN FIRST
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