[Listen. There are a lot of things you can't spring on a girl, vampirism is totally one of them. Vanessa Ives does not leave but certainly starts pacing, agitated and confused, this is her thinking movement. Despite the back and forth narrowed eyes remain fixed on him.]
You are not beholden to the monster. How are you not? You did not connive to bring me here to fulfill his purposes? You have been very polite company, Mr. Tepes but I am having a difficult time not seeing you as a very dangerous threat.
[He remains where he is. Letting Vanessa own the room as she sees fit.]
I am also well aware that very little I said will change your classification of myself as a threat. My father's people have always been as such, and they will remain that way into the future. That is the nature of having a species that sees humans as prey.
But as I said. My father's people. My mother was human.
[Occasionally there is a pause, arms crossing over chest to consider before they are unfurled in order to pace again. She is listening despite her brain screaming at her in two very different voices with two very different aches attached to them.]
You have called yourself a vampire, so you retain his blood, his traits. But you do not align with them because of your mother’s humanity?
[Full question with a light frosting of skepticism. Can one be of two very different worlds yet still be wholly apart from both? Can a monster walk in darkness and light? Her fingers twist together as she stops, unconscious of her own bleak prayer.]
The actual term for what I am is dhampir. There are accounts over the years, but they're mostly in the folklore of the Balkans.
[Alucard breathes out. This means getting more personal. He dislikes it. He doesn't even know why he's so hell bent on gaining Vanessa's trust, but it seems worthwhile. If only to argue in favor of not all night things being as god awful as the situation she has found herself in.]
My mother was, as I said, a doctor, and better than many in the current age we live in. She learned from my father's centuries of wisdom, but it was she who brought that knowledge out into the world. She was executed by an ambitious priest who branded her as a witch.
[He's learned to tell the story with precious little wincing these days. Had to. So many generations of Belmonts had to know the story, after all.]
Even in those moments my mother maintained a deep and abiding love for humanity. My own feelings are aloof, but I will always honor her wishes. Even -- especially -- when it brings me into conflict with my heritage.
[It is a choice to leave out the patricide. That is not a detail that demands to be shared at the moment.]
[Despite the agitated pacing Vanessa is listening, is watching him and processing the story that he is telling her. She relates and reacts very deeply at the fate of his mother and for a moment she turns away from him and the smoldering fireplace. Letting her mind fill with the horrific sights and sounds of Joan's death at the hands of the small-minded savages of the moor.
Vanessa's turn back toward Mr. Tepes is slow, limbs slow and numb with residual pain, loss in the face of this uncertainty. His words are plain, personal, but in this world of dark threat it could simply be a ruse. For what reason she hasn't a clue but the last few months have been nothing but chaos and reactive flailing from her and her allies. It makes her wary and suspicious and that shows plainly on her drawn face as she moves back toward him and the seat across from his own.]
I am sorry to hear about your mother. I too lost someone close to my heart because of the ignorance of men of power. Such women possess powers to change the soul of a person. To fill them with such beliefs and strengths. I can see how she could make such an impression on your views of humanity but I must verify.
[Vanessa will not apologize for this need. Even as she walks the fine line of being sympathetic of his loss, his need for guarded personal information. She uncurls fingers and offers a steady hand to him.]
Allow me to read you. To see this part of which you speak.
[It's hard to give words to the worst of one's memories and be told that they are not enough. Alucard doesn't snap though, groan, or give any indication that he views Vanessa's request as unreasonable. Her circumstances are extraordinary, as is the nature of the vampires she has dealt with so far.
So he offers out his right hand, knowing that palmistry is a matter that demands the dominant hand.]
As you see fit.
[There is a good chance that the matter of Alucard's father will come up in the reading. So be it.
Alucard's hand is cool to the touch, pale as the rest of him, and his pulse far slower than any human's should be. But he has explained his origin already. There's no reason to blink at it.]
[He offers his hand and she knows that it is not an easy thing to do if he believes in what she can do. But in this dark and murky world that they both travel in doubt isn't always something one struggles with.
He offers his hand and she takes it with a hand that is also cool but for a different reason. As she gazes at him, focusing, the touch between them warms. As she gives over to her bittersweet gift her gaze goes through him, traveling back, back through the years and all the breaths from then till now.
The emotions come first, slow. Then the visuals, slow. Then it is all there and in shrieking high clarity; an intensity that comes with a being not fully human. His words, the truth he spoke - all there. Then the sight of Dracula's furry is terrifying beyond all words as the conflict between the two. Vanessa drops his hand like it is scalding liquid, rearing back, chest heaving, eyes rolling. A bead of sweat rolls slowly down the small of her back. Unable to speak she nods quickly that she know he speaks true.]
[Alucard keeps his hand rock steady. Doesn't flinch. Doesn't react even as he can feel the deepest, darkest memories stir to life in his own mind. He has lived with them for so very long now that they have little power over him.
But he knows the intensity of the memories. When Vanessa reacts as she does, letting go of his hand, he withdraws it slowly.]
I'll put the kettle on for tea if you'd like a few moments alone.
[He's figured out the tea thing pretty fast, being not English and all.]
[Alucard exits quietly and neatly, as if none of this has happened. It is only once he is in the kitchen, with the kettle set upon the stove and the burner going that he finally lets out a deep exhale that he had been holding in.
Sorting through the residual emotions is for later. In private. Nothing that needs to be done here or now, because it's hardly the point. So he focuses on getting tea cups and tea leaves and the tea pot and all the little accoutrements that are demanded for tea.
It takes ten minutes in all. More than is strictly needed for tea, but it seems important all the same.
The set that Alucard carries out on a lacquer tray is simple. White bone china with golden colored (but not true gold) handles, tea leaves and their strainers set atop the cups, and an equally plain tea pot beside them. The sugar bowl and cream pitcher are a deep blue glass rather than the same fine china.
Alucard sets them down, but doesn't settle himself. He instead goes to the fireplace, realizing how smouldering it is. A few logs are fed, and then poked and prodded at with the poker.]
[Vanessa has not moved from her spot on the couch since he left. There has been shifting of course, she is not made of stone, but to lift ones self up and move about seems like such a Herculean task that she has not attempted it.
After her breathing eased her mind went blessedly blank, lured perhaps by the simple crackle pop of the slowly dying fire and the common noises of the London street. Soothing in the way only human noises can be, a loose tether to reality.
By the time he returns she has the forethought and energy for a brief smile and the familiar task of preparing tea.]
One of the first things I managed to accomplish on my own when I was released from the asylum was to prepare a cup of tea. I couldn't recall how I took it at first, that came later. How do you take yours, Mr. Tepes?
That feels like a deeper thing that wouldn't be shared in most company. Alucard does not know how to acknowledge that, but he understands it is important to have shared at all.]
Black with one sugar, please.
[He fusses with the fireplace for a few moments more, then finally makes his way back to his chair and their little conversation corner.]
[An offering, like his to leave and make tea. A peek into the insides after a look at his. Information not freely, easily given. She pours his first, deftly handling the teapot, the delicate tongs for the cube of sugar. The composure of a woman of title and breeding.
Then her own. Vanessa lets the silence sit till she has her first sip of tea. Shocking how such a simple thing can be so stabilizing.]
Thank you for allowing me a moment, Mr. Tepes. That was a series of very difficult conversations, I appreciate your honesty and understanding.
Of course. But I trust that my nature will remain between us.
[It's the only thing he'll ever insist upon. London may be large, and there may be comfort in the fact it is easier to hide among the masses, but Alucard knows better than to bank on just that fact.
He only holds the tea, for in truth the point was to focus on Vanessa rather than himself. He takes precious comfort in the stuff, but when in England...]
Then I assume that our previous agreement still holds?
[Alucard doesn't mind the faux paus. Barely noticed it, and that's a blessing of being a stranger to certain customs. He takes the cup and wraps both of his hands around it, simply absorbing the warmth.]
If it is still agreeable to you. From my perspective you are perhaps uniquely qualified in this matter.
[There was an unspoken 'but' there. But she had reacted strongly to his confession. And while her reaction was valid she is aware that from his perspective it might be just a little too much. The human freaking out and making accusations. She had been there before, certainly not to the same extent but sometimes she could still see the terror in her parents eyes.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
You are not beholden to the monster. How are you not? You did not connive to bring me here to fulfill his purposes? You have been very polite company, Mr. Tepes but I am having a difficult time not seeing you as a very dangerous threat.
no subject
[He remains where he is. Letting Vanessa own the room as she sees fit.]
I am also well aware that very little I said will change your classification of myself as a threat. My father's people have always been as such, and they will remain that way into the future. That is the nature of having a species that sees humans as prey.
But as I said. My father's people. My mother was human.
no subject
You have called yourself a vampire, so you retain his blood, his traits. But you do not align with them because of your mother’s humanity?
[Full question with a light frosting of skepticism. Can one be of two very different worlds yet still be wholly apart from both? Can a monster walk in darkness and light? Her fingers twist together as she stops, unconscious of her own bleak prayer.]
no subject
[Alucard breathes out. This means getting more personal. He dislikes it. He doesn't even know why he's so hell bent on gaining Vanessa's trust, but it seems worthwhile. If only to argue in favor of not all night things being as god awful as the situation she has found herself in.]
My mother was, as I said, a doctor, and better than many in the current age we live in. She learned from my father's centuries of wisdom, but it was she who brought that knowledge out into the world. She was executed by an ambitious priest who branded her as a witch.
[He's learned to tell the story with precious little wincing these days. Had to. So many generations of Belmonts had to know the story, after all.]
Even in those moments my mother maintained a deep and abiding love for humanity. My own feelings are aloof, but I will always honor her wishes. Even -- especially -- when it brings me into conflict with my heritage.
[It is a choice to leave out the patricide. That is not a detail that demands to be shared at the moment.]
no subject
Vanessa's turn back toward Mr. Tepes is slow, limbs slow and numb with residual pain, loss in the face of this uncertainty. His words are plain, personal, but in this world of dark threat it could simply be a ruse. For what reason she hasn't a clue but the last few months have been nothing but chaos and reactive flailing from her and her allies. It makes her wary and suspicious and that shows plainly on her drawn face as she moves back toward him and the seat across from his own.]
I am sorry to hear about your mother. I too lost someone close to my heart because of the ignorance of men of power. Such women possess powers to change the soul of a person. To fill them with such beliefs and strengths. I can see how she could make such an impression on your views of humanity but I must verify.
[Vanessa will not apologize for this need. Even as she walks the fine line of being sympathetic of his loss, his need for guarded personal information. She uncurls fingers and offers a steady hand to him.]
Allow me to read you. To see this part of which you speak.
no subject
So he offers out his right hand, knowing that palmistry is a matter that demands the dominant hand.]
As you see fit.
[There is a good chance that the matter of Alucard's father will come up in the reading. So be it.
Alucard's hand is cool to the touch, pale as the rest of him, and his pulse far slower than any human's should be. But he has explained his origin already. There's no reason to blink at it.]
no subject
He offers his hand and she takes it with a hand that is also cool but for a different reason. As she gazes at him, focusing, the touch between them warms. As she gives over to her bittersweet gift her gaze goes through him, traveling back, back through the years and all the breaths from then till now.
The emotions come first, slow. Then the visuals, slow. Then it is all there and in shrieking high clarity; an intensity that comes with a being not fully human. His words, the truth he spoke - all there. Then the sight of Dracula's furry is terrifying beyond all words as the conflict between the two. Vanessa drops his hand like it is scalding liquid, rearing back, chest heaving, eyes rolling. A bead of sweat rolls slowly down the small of her back. Unable to speak she nods quickly that she know he speaks true.]
no subject
But he knows the intensity of the memories. When Vanessa reacts as she does, letting go of his hand, he withdraws it slowly.]
I'll put the kettle on for tea if you'd like a few moments alone.
[He's figured out the tea thing pretty fast, being not English and all.]
no subject
Yes, I would be most grateful, Mr. Tepes.
[Damnation, if she could only find a way to steady her heart. The time alone to collect herself is also gratefully appreciated.]
no subject
[Alucard exits quietly and neatly, as if none of this has happened. It is only once he is in the kitchen, with the kettle set upon the stove and the burner going that he finally lets out a deep exhale that he had been holding in.
Sorting through the residual emotions is for later. In private. Nothing that needs to be done here or now, because it's hardly the point. So he focuses on getting tea cups and tea leaves and the tea pot and all the little accoutrements that are demanded for tea.
It takes ten minutes in all. More than is strictly needed for tea, but it seems important all the same.
The set that Alucard carries out on a lacquer tray is simple. White bone china with golden colored (but not true gold) handles, tea leaves and their strainers set atop the cups, and an equally plain tea pot beside them. The sugar bowl and cream pitcher are a deep blue glass rather than the same fine china.
Alucard sets them down, but doesn't settle himself. He instead goes to the fireplace, realizing how smouldering it is. A few logs are fed, and then poked and prodded at with the poker.]
no subject
After her breathing eased her mind went blessedly blank, lured perhaps by the simple crackle pop of the slowly dying fire and the common noises of the London street. Soothing in the way only human noises can be, a loose tether to reality.
By the time he returns she has the forethought and energy for a brief smile and the familiar task of preparing tea.]
One of the first things I managed to accomplish on my own when I was released from the asylum was to prepare a cup of tea. I couldn't recall how I took it at first, that came later. How do you take yours, Mr. Tepes?
no subject
That feels like a deeper thing that wouldn't be shared in most company. Alucard does not know how to acknowledge that, but he understands it is important to have shared at all.]
Black with one sugar, please.
[He fusses with the fireplace for a few moments more, then finally makes his way back to his chair and their little conversation corner.]
no subject
She pours his first, deftly handling the teapot, the delicate tongs for the cube of sugar. The composure of a woman of title and breeding.
Then her own. Vanessa lets the silence sit till she has her first sip of tea. Shocking how such a simple thing can be so stabilizing.]
Thank you for allowing me a moment, Mr. Tepes. That was a series of very difficult conversations, I appreciate your honesty and understanding.
no subject
[It's the only thing he'll ever insist upon. London may be large, and there may be comfort in the fact it is easier to hide among the masses, but Alucard knows better than to bank on just that fact.
He only holds the tea, for in truth the point was to focus on Vanessa rather than himself. He takes precious comfort in the stuff, but when in England...]
no subject
With a smile of apology she offered the saucer and cup to Adrian.]
I will breathe a word to no one, Mr. Tepes. You have my word.
no subject
[Alucard doesn't mind the faux paus. Barely noticed it, and that's a blessing of being a stranger to certain customs. He takes the cup and wraps both of his hands around it, simply absorbing the warmth.]
no subject
[There was an unspoken 'but' there. But she had reacted strongly to his confession. And while her reaction was valid she is aware that from his perspective it might be just a little too much. The human freaking out and making accusations. She had been there before, certainly not to the same extent but sometimes she could still see the terror in her parents eyes.
Another sip of tea.]
no subject
[[this actually seems like a logical spot to end the thread!]]