[ He'd hesitate longer, but he's pushed himself into a corner now. All he can do if he doesn't go ahead is to continue stroking at Alucard's wrist with his thumb and that's-
-Actually more pleasant than he'd like to admit. Leon never liked them going near humans, hesitant about what the temptation might do to them. Has he ever had this much contact in his life? Let alone recently?
He bends down, rather than lifting Alucard's arm, until it looks as if he's bowing before Alucard rather than about to take from him. Best to keep the wrist below the heart for the bite then above it for the recovery. He knows that much. ]
Start counting.
[ He brings his mouth to Alucard's wrist, letting his fangs pierce skin. ]
[Alucard's body tenses as the moment draws near. He isn't sure what to expect, but the longer Trevor puts it off, the more he dislikes it. Better to get the blood flowing.
It's a sharp thing, and the spike of pain doesn't dull. That sense is useful though, as it keeps him terribly in the moment. He'd drift a little otherwise, as Trevor bending down? That's a lot.
His free hand rests in Trevor's hair for lack of anywhere else to go.]
One. Two.
[His counting is soft, and it comes coupled with fingers stroking through Trevor's hair.]
[ He smells the blood an instant before he tastes it, and that instant seems like it's been stretched out infinitely. This, he's experienced before. The journey here hasn't been bloodless, not by any stretch of the imagination. From the cuts and bruises from Sypha's attempt to fight him when they first met to the injuries of the road, every time has made time seem wrong. Has made his body seem like nothing but an engine made to consume, and his companions nothing more than fuel. Has reduced the world to a conflict between what he knows in his blood - that the world has made him stronger than both of them, that it's given him the right to take and take and take and take - and the humanity that Leon tried so hard to force upon him with magic and blood and words and kindness.
In truth, that is as much a reason why he needs this as the clumsiness of hunger. It's foolish to assume that the battle they face will be won without injury, much as he'd like to be able to protect them both from the worst of it. There will be blood. Without this, it will be a distraction. Maybe even a danger.
He withdraws his fangs to let the blood flow freely. It touches his tongue and the agonisingly long instant is over. He can taste it. He can taste it and his body sings with the tasting of it, his heart beating so quick and hard that he can swear he hears it pealing like church bells against his ribs. He laps at the cuts with his tongue messily before remembering that he can't waste a drop and using his lips to form a seal over the cuts. It's a kiss. It's so much a kiss and he knows but he can't bring himself to care.
His senses sharpen, almost too much. He can't hear Alucard counting. Not over the hiss of air as Sypha turns pages and the skittering of rats' feet in the ruins of the house above them and the settling of ancient dust. He can hear sunlight hitting the earth overhead. He can hear as new leaves tear out of medicinal herbs in little pots at another corner of the hold. His eyes are closed, but he can see the sound reflecting off Alucard's body before him. Every plane of his face. Every tiny little beautiful imperfection left by a lifetime of fragile humanity. He can smell metal in the blood, but he can smell the mixture of mint and rose oil that Sypha uses to ward off evil, too. He can smell the oil from a thousand fingertips on every book. The hold is full of life, life that only he can sense, four centuries of history condensed into a matter of seconds. And he can taste blood. He can taste blood and there is nothing else.
He hears twenty, as the initial overwhelming high of it starts to fade and he can finally catch Alucard's voice over all the noise again. Twenty seconds, and that feels wrong in both directions. It's felt so much longer. It's felt so much shorter. He can't have time left. This can't be two-thirds over.
He feels Alucard's hand in his hair next. Stroking. Slowly managing to ground him no matter how little he wants to be grounded. Anchoring him in the present. The present where (twenty three) he has to acknowledge that this is- intimate. That he's kissing and licking at Alucard's wrist almost in worship, like a profane prayer spoken in disgusting noises. That instead of just holding Alucard's arm, his fingers have coiled around his sometime in that last twenty (twenty five) seconds. That his face is flushed from ear to pointed ear, lips swollen and eyes blown wide. Breath coming out in gasps and whines.
He doesn't stop. The feeling of disgust with himself sinks in around twenty eight, but he doesn't stop. Not until thirty. This can never happen again, and so he can't waste a second. ]
[Alucard's only focus is on time. It has to be, because just watching the way Trevor angles himself, the way he drinks, it feels like the Belmont is getting lost. It makes sense of course - why wouldn't a dhampir be overwhelmed with freely offered blood? In truth, that he hadn't leapt upon Sypha after she was stabbed felt like a pointed demonstration of the Belmont's self control rather than something genuine.
He knows where there should be a first aid kit among the books here, and it's only a few shelves over. When Trevor is done, he'll stand and go get it. The matter will be resolved, and this won't happen again. Probably because if Alucard's going to be truthful? He has low odds on their survival rate.
[ Thirty. It's thirty. He has to stop on thirty. And he doesn't want to. He wants to keep going. He wants to be joined with Alucard like this forever. He wants to call this off, to let Leon do as he will, to be the only monster in a world of humans. He could keep them safe, like that. He could keep them safe and well-fed and dress them in silks and prick their fingers with jewelled pins and lick at the blood as it gathered into heavy little drops.
There's an uncomfortable tightness in the back of his head, and it takes him a moment to realise that Alucard is pulling his head away. It doesn't budge. Not under Alucard's power, and something twisted inside him reminds him that Alucard can't stop him. That there's nothing that can stop him from taking what he wants except for himself.
...And so he stops. Because that thought is terrifying enough to make him. He moves his head back, moving upright again. He lifts Alucard's arm, pulling it up above his heart to lessen the bleeding. ]
I- [ He begins, trying to gather himself, make it look like he hasn't thoroughly enjoyed the last half minute. ] -thanks. This'll make it easier.
[It is thirty and Alucard knows he made a mistake. Trevor's lost in
hunger, and that means he's miscalculated. Badly. He's sure that
the Belmont can hear how his heart hammers faster at the effort it takes to
lift the dhampir's head from his wrist, and it'll be something to deal with
later.
He does move though. With that, Alucard himself gets up, using his good
hand to steady himself on the shelves. They're stable. Much more than any
of them right now.]
I know how to deal with a small wound, you know.
[It's matter of fact, trying not to be rude. Alucard covers the two
little pin pricks with his other hand and holds everything at the right
angle, and starts to walk to where he knows there's a box.]
I'll need a second set of hands to help dress this though due to the
angle. Come along.
[ His body feels so much lighter that it takes effort not to launch himself into floating when he stands. His vision is sharper. All the world is details. He can guess the age of the animals that produced the leather covering each book from the textures of them. Can tell which books have been taken out and returned to the shelves most by the tiny, tiny marks of wear. He can map out the whole of the hold in his mind from the echoes of their footsteps.
But he doesn't feel powerful anymore. He feels chastened. Afraid of himself. Uncertain, just for now, about whether his father is wrong. Leon took every precaution so that he and his siblings wouldn't be like this and yet here he is. What must that mean for every other creature? What if it's simply impossible for them to coexist with humanity without feeding?
He's managed to control his breath by the end of the short walk, at least. He follows in Alucard's shadow, quiet until they reach the box. ]
[Alucard stops at a wooden box on one of the shelves, and opens it.
Blood has smeared on his wrist and clings to his fingers. All the same,
it's a quick thing to get everything open, and then to gesture at
Trevor.]
I'm going to disinfect the matter. Once that's done, you're going to bind
it with bandages.
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<small.[he>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
<p><small>[Alucard stops at a wooden box on one of the shelves, and opens it.
Blood has smeared on his wrist and clings to his fingers. All the same,
it's a quick thing to get everything open, and then to gesture at
Trevor.]</small></p>
<p>I'm going to disinfect the matter. Once that's done, you're going to bind
it with bandages. <small.[He points at them, neatly piled in a little
corner of the box.]</small></p>
<p>Understood?</p>
[ His eyes follow the trails of smeared blood from the wrist to Alucard's long, delicate fingers, no matter how much to tries to keep them from doing so. He doesn't need more. This is enough. More than he had to recover before. But he wants. Oh, he wants.
But he hasn't completely lost his mind. He takes his eyes from Alucard's fingertips to the box. Bandages. He knows how one goes about using those. He takes off his other glove, using the bottle of cleaning alcohol to wipe down his hands before passing that bottle over to Alucard. ]
[He's all business as he goes through the actions. Delicate fingers
taking the bottle of cleaning alcohol and dabbing it onto a little scrap of
bandage. Using that to clean off the dried blood, then holding the pad to
apply pressure. Alucard keeps it there a moment more, then there. Good
enough.
[ It's a relief to see the blood gone. It makes all of this easier. He takes the bandages and binds the cut quickly, using his newly-enhanced senses to test the tightness of the bandages. Just enough pressure against skin to hold the dressing in place and stop the bleeding. No more. ]
I'll find you something to eat.
[ He's only vaguely aware of how this part works. Stopping the bleeding makes sense, but as for the rest- Humans need food to recover from injury. Probably. That sounds right. Alucard was insistent that Sypha eat a good meal and rest after the stabbing incident, he remembers that much. ]
I need water. Protein should be around in the form of dried meat in my
pack or Sypha's, they're both by the lectern in the center of the Hold.
[It's a good bandage. Should hold. Alucard would insist that he
can go get this himself, but Trevor's giving the impression that he'd be
far happier away from Alucard at the moment. Best not to press it.]
[ If anything, it's the opposite. He wants to be close to Alucard again. Even outside of the blood (and the thought that some part of Alucard is moving inside him is overwhelming and terrifying and wonderful) it's nice. Nice, to be around humans.
But it's also the truth. He needs to be away from Alucard. He needs to think straight, not about blood and not about how with his sight so much sharper he can pick out individual eyelashes and the way they fan about when he blinks. He needs to not think about how he can hear Sypha's legs brushing against the cloth of her robes. About how Alucard's heart sounded liable to leap from his chest when he drank. About how he could make the process better for them, if they would let him-
-he needs to be away. Long enough to stick his head above ground for a moments' fresh air and return to Alucard with a canteen of water and a cloth wrapped around a bundle of slices of dried deer meat. It's a little easier, once he's exposed himself to all of the sounds and smells of the world outside the hold. ]
Here. Let me know if you need- [ ...a little easier. He can still hear so, so clearly when Sypha crosses her legs a little way away from them and her thighs brush against each other. Fuck. She'd hate him even more if she knew he could hear that. ] -anything else.
[In the time that Trevor is away, Alucard feels his own heart rate
return to normal. That isn't a matter of skill or anything but being the
son of a doctor and an alchemist and being well trained to pay attention to
his body. He isn't so stupid as to ignore how intimate the act of drinking
blood can be, and that is the exact word he'd use to describe what just
transpired with Trevor. Intimate.
He and Sypha had discussed so much of the problem of vampires before, and
how so much of their actions were easy to mistake as sexual. On
purpose, of course, because you can spin a story that way to get what you
need. They had also discussed the potential dangers of this, and how
it would have to be a one time only thing.
Alucard is looking at one of the shelves when Trevor returns, resting his
wrist up against one of the high shelves so it is still above his heart.
He turns, taking the canteen first.]
Thank you. Did it sound as if anyone's approaching?
Nobody. My father- he must know that we are here, but he doesn’t seem to mean to attack.
[ They don’t know the kind of resistance Leon is encountering from the things of the night, for the right reasons and the wrong reasons alike. Other vampires don’t care for the idea of being locked in hell away from easy targets. People want them to succeed, are pulling strings to ensure this, and not all of them mean to do good. ]
You’re not dizzy? Or... falling down?
[ Dizzy and falling down, the two symptoms of blood loss in humans. ]
[Far more than blood loss does. Alucard takes the canteen and when
he sips, it takes some time before he puts it down. There's a thud
as it gets shelved for the time being, and Alucard reaches for the dried
deer meat that Trevor is still holding.]
A little light headed, but that will pass quickly enough. You didn't take
that terribly much.
Maybe he thinks I won’t do this. Thinks he raised a better son than he did.
[ ‘Maybe he can be convinced to see reason’ is a little too much to hope for. ‘Maybe an Austrian vampire has no desire to see her access to human blood stopped’ is too grave a possibility to consider. ]
Rest. Whatever method your family had to disable the stone, it’ll still work in another day.
[for whatever this demands of Trevor, in the end. He's already lost
so much of his family, and Alucard knows that loss far too keenly. He
takes a bite of the dried meat and chews, knowing that the dhampir is about
to launch into a long brooding session.]
There's a more comfortable nook around the corner. I'll be there for a bit.
[If he's needed. Or if Trevor doesn't want to brood alone.]
[ Look he has two moods, brooding and horny but guilty about it. ]
It’s the way things are. Nothing to be done. I’m going to go antagonise the speaker.
[ He shouldn’t. If nothing else he knows that she and her family were the first people in a long time to show Alucard any kindness. But also? It’s fun. It’s fun and she’s a lot less pretty when she’s being irritated with him.
And maybe, just maybe, he still wants one of them to give up so they don’t have to go through with this. ]
[Sypha is a woman of patience within reason. Alucard thinks the
situation has long since exhausted that patience, but he says nothing of
the sort. He instead goes to do exactly as intended, and he flops down on
a well worn sofa a few rows over. It has a little side table beside it, and
the fabric is thread bare. It has been that way for as long as he can
remember, and this? This was his little corner. All the alchemy and
medical books met here, and he cold take everything he needed. There were
once forts built of books around this sofa.
Aluard lies down, mushing his face into the cushions. He breathes in the
must and the old book smell, and then sleep claims him.
[ Sypha doesn’t give up, of course. It’s difficult to come up with anything to really get to her, beyond her inability to beat him in a fight. They’re both of them better informed than him on most topics. And the things he knows that she doesn’t? She’s far too intent on getting him to tell her them to be properly antagonised. It’s only keeping knowledge from her that really works.
Trevor’s coat is over Alucard when he stirs. He sits on the floor near the sofa, thumbing through a book. There’s more dried meat on the table, as well at a cup of particularly foul-smelling tea. ]
[Alucard stirs a few times in his sleep, but that's just to tug blankets around him again. Other than that? He sleeps very still, his breath shallow to the point where it could be dangerous. But no, that? That's just a way to make people think they're looking at a dead man, letting him be rather than harassing him.
When he wakes, it is all at once. He sits up and....oh. Trevor's coat. That's a kind gesture, although he doesn't utter those words out loud. Instead his eyes go to the table, then the tea (he doesn't want to know what's in it), then to Trevor himself.]
[ The book he’s going through is- a little grim. Which is to say that it’s a history book, one detailing places that are and are not safe for mages. A collection of men and women tortured and executed for trying to help their fellow man. It’s a bit of a shock, when Leon had always regarded humanity so highly. ]
She wants you to drink the tea. Something about metal. She says her people use it for blood loss.
[...Iron, he means. Which might go a little way to explaining the red colour. Less so the smell. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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-Actually more pleasant than he'd like to admit. Leon never liked them going near humans, hesitant about what the temptation might do to them. Has he ever had this much contact in his life? Let alone recently?
He bends down, rather than lifting Alucard's arm, until it looks as if he's bowing before Alucard rather than about to take from him. Best to keep the wrist below the heart for the bite then above it for the recovery. He knows that much. ]
Start counting.
[ He brings his mouth to Alucard's wrist, letting his fangs pierce skin. ]
no subject
It's a sharp thing, and the spike of pain doesn't dull. That sense is useful though, as it keeps him terribly in the moment. He'd drift a little otherwise, as Trevor bending down? That's a lot.
His free hand rests in Trevor's hair for lack of anywhere else to go.]
One. Two.
[His counting is soft, and it comes coupled with fingers stroking through Trevor's hair.]
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In truth, that is as much a reason why he needs this as the clumsiness of hunger. It's foolish to assume that the battle they face will be won without injury, much as he'd like to be able to protect them both from the worst of it. There will be blood. Without this, it will be a distraction. Maybe even a danger.
He withdraws his fangs to let the blood flow freely. It touches his tongue and the agonisingly long instant is over. He can taste it. He can taste it and his body sings with the tasting of it, his heart beating so quick and hard that he can swear he hears it pealing like church bells against his ribs. He laps at the cuts with his tongue messily before remembering that he can't waste a drop and using his lips to form a seal over the cuts. It's a kiss. It's so much a kiss and he knows but he can't bring himself to care.
His senses sharpen, almost too much. He can't hear Alucard counting. Not over the hiss of air as Sypha turns pages and the skittering of rats' feet in the ruins of the house above them and the settling of ancient dust. He can hear sunlight hitting the earth overhead. He can hear as new leaves tear out of medicinal herbs in little pots at another corner of the hold. His eyes are closed, but he can see the sound reflecting off Alucard's body before him. Every plane of his face. Every tiny little beautiful imperfection left by a lifetime of fragile humanity. He can smell metal in the blood, but he can smell the mixture of mint and rose oil that Sypha uses to ward off evil, too. He can smell the oil from a thousand fingertips on every book. The hold is full of life, life that only he can sense, four centuries of history condensed into a matter of seconds. And he can taste blood. He can taste blood and there is nothing else.
He hears twenty, as the initial overwhelming high of it starts to fade and he can finally catch Alucard's voice over all the noise again. Twenty seconds, and that feels wrong in both directions. It's felt so much longer. It's felt so much shorter. He can't have time left. This can't be two-thirds over.
He feels Alucard's hand in his hair next. Stroking. Slowly managing to ground him no matter how little he wants to be grounded. Anchoring him in the present. The present where (twenty three) he has to acknowledge that this is- intimate. That he's kissing and licking at Alucard's wrist almost in worship, like a profane prayer spoken in disgusting noises. That instead of just holding Alucard's arm, his fingers have coiled around his sometime in that last twenty (twenty five) seconds. That his face is flushed from ear to pointed ear, lips swollen and eyes blown wide. Breath coming out in gasps and whines.
He doesn't stop. The feeling of disgust with himself sinks in around twenty eight, but he doesn't stop. Not until thirty. This can never happen again, and so he can't waste a second. ]
no subject
He knows where there should be a first aid kit among the books here, and it's only a few shelves over. When Trevor is done, he'll stand and go get it. The matter will be resolved, and this won't happen again. Probably because if Alucard's going to be truthful? He has low odds on their survival rate.
Twenty nine.
Thirty.
Alucard tugs at Trevor's hair with force.]
That's thirty You can stop.
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There's an uncomfortable tightness in the back of his head, and it takes him a moment to realise that Alucard is pulling his head away. It doesn't budge. Not under Alucard's power, and something twisted inside him reminds him that Alucard can't stop him. That there's nothing that can stop him from taking what he wants except for himself.
...And so he stops. Because that thought is terrifying enough to make him. He moves his head back, moving upright again. He lifts Alucard's arm, pulling it up above his heart to lessen the bleeding. ]
I- [ He begins, trying to gather himself, make it look like he hasn't thoroughly enjoyed the last half minute. ] -thanks. This'll make it easier.
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[It is thirty and Alucard knows he made a mistake. Trevor's lost in hunger, and that means he's miscalculated. Badly. He's sure that the Belmont can hear how his heart hammers faster at the effort it takes to lift the dhampir's head from his wrist, and it'll be something to deal with later.
He does move though. With that, Alucard himself gets up, using his good hand to steady himself on the shelves. They're stable. Much more than any of them right now.]
I know how to deal with a small wound, you know.
[It's matter of fact, trying not to be rude. Alucard covers the two little pin pricks with his other hand and holds everything at the right angle, and starts to walk to where he knows there's a box.]
I'll need a second set of hands to help dress this though due to the angle. Come along.
no subject
[ His body feels so much lighter that it takes effort not to launch himself into floating when he stands. His vision is sharper. All the world is details. He can guess the age of the animals that produced the leather covering each book from the textures of them. Can tell which books have been taken out and returned to the shelves most by the tiny, tiny marks of wear. He can map out the whole of the hold in his mind from the echoes of their footsteps.
But he doesn't feel powerful anymore. He feels chastened. Afraid of himself. Uncertain, just for now, about whether his father is wrong. Leon took every precaution so that he and his siblings wouldn't be like this and yet here he is. What must that mean for every other creature? What if it's simply impossible for them to coexist with humanity without feeding?
He's managed to control his breath by the end of the short walk, at least. He follows in Alucard's shadow, quiet until they reach the box. ]
Tell me what to do.
no subject
[Alucard stops at a wooden box on one of the shelves, and opens it. Blood has smeared on his wrist and clings to his fingers. All the same, it's a quick thing to get everything open, and then to gesture at Trevor.]
I'm going to disinfect the matter. Once that's done, you're going to bind it with bandages.
no subject
[ His eyes follow the trails of smeared blood from the wrist to Alucard's long, delicate fingers, no matter how much to tries to keep them from doing so. He doesn't need more. This is enough. More than he had to recover before. But he wants. Oh, he wants.
But he hasn't completely lost his mind. He takes his eyes from Alucard's fingertips to the box. Bandages. He knows how one goes about using those. He takes off his other glove, using the bottle of cleaning alcohol to wipe down his hands before passing that bottle over to Alucard. ]
When you're ready.
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[He's all business as he goes through the actions. Delicate fingers taking the bottle of cleaning alcohol and dabbing it onto a little scrap of bandage. Using that to clean off the dried blood, then holding the pad to apply pressure. Alucard keeps it there a moment more, then there. Good enough.
His wrist is held out again.]
Quickly, if you please.
no subject
I'll find you something to eat.
[ He's only vaguely aware of how this part works. Stopping the bleeding makes sense, but as for the rest- Humans need food to recover from injury. Probably. That sounds right. Alucard was insistent that Sypha eat a good meal and rest after the stabbing incident, he remembers that much. ]
no subject
I need water. Protein should be around in the form of dried meat in my pack or Sypha's, they're both by the lectern in the center of the Hold.
[It's a good bandage. Should hold. Alucard would insist that he can go get this himself, but Trevor's giving the impression that he'd be far happier away from Alucard at the moment. Best not to press it.]
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But it's also the truth. He needs to be away from Alucard. He needs to think straight, not about blood and not about how with his sight so much sharper he can pick out individual eyelashes and the way they fan about when he blinks. He needs to not think about how he can hear Sypha's legs brushing against the cloth of her robes. About how Alucard's heart sounded liable to leap from his chest when he drank. About how he could make the process better for them, if they would let him-
-he needs to be away. Long enough to stick his head above ground for a moments' fresh air and return to Alucard with a canteen of water and a cloth wrapped around a bundle of slices of dried deer meat. It's a little easier, once he's exposed himself to all of the sounds and smells of the world outside the hold. ]
Here. Let me know if you need- [ ...a little easier. He can still hear so, so clearly when Sypha crosses her legs a little way away from them and her thighs brush against each other. Fuck. She'd hate him even more if she knew he could hear that. ] -anything else.
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[In the time that Trevor is away, Alucard feels his own heart rate return to normal. That isn't a matter of skill or anything but being the son of a doctor and an alchemist and being well trained to pay attention to his body. He isn't so stupid as to ignore how intimate the act of drinking blood can be, and that is the exact word he'd use to describe what just transpired with Trevor. Intimate.
He and Sypha had discussed so much of the problem of vampires before, and how so much of their actions were easy to mistake as sexual. On purpose, of course, because you can spin a story that way to get what you need. They had also discussed the potential dangers of this, and how it would have to be a one time only thing.
Alucard is looking at one of the shelves when Trevor returns, resting his wrist up against one of the high shelves so it is still above his heart. He turns, taking the canteen first.]
Thank you. Did it sound as if anyone's approaching?
no subject
[ They don’t know the kind of resistance Leon is encountering from the things of the night, for the right reasons and the wrong reasons alike. Other vampires don’t care for the idea of being locked in hell away from easy targets. People want them to succeed, are pulling strings to ensure this, and not all of them mean to do good. ]
You’re not dizzy? Or... falling down?
[ Dizzy and falling down, the two symptoms of blood loss in humans. ]
no subject
That worries me.
[Far more than blood loss does. Alucard takes the canteen and when he sips, it takes some time before he puts it down. There's a thud as it gets shelved for the time being, and Alucard reaches for the dried deer meat that Trevor is still holding.]
A little light headed, but that will pass quickly enough. You didn't take that terribly much.
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[ ‘Maybe he can be convinced to see reason’ is a little too much to hope for. ‘Maybe an Austrian vampire has no desire to see her access to human blood stopped’ is too grave a possibility to consider. ]
Rest. Whatever method your family had to disable the stone, it’ll still work in another day.
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I'm sorry.
[for whatever this demands of Trevor, in the end. He's already lost so much of his family, and Alucard knows that loss far too keenly. He takes a bite of the dried meat and chews, knowing that the dhampir is about to launch into a long brooding session.]
There's a more comfortable nook around the corner. I'll be there for a bit.
[If he's needed. Or if Trevor doesn't want to brood alone.]
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It’s the way things are. Nothing to be done. I’m going to go antagonise the speaker.
[ He shouldn’t. If nothing else he knows that she and her family were the first people in a long time to show Alucard any kindness. But also? It’s fun. It’s fun and she’s a lot less pretty when she’s being irritated with him.
And maybe, just maybe, he still wants one of them to give up so they don’t have to go through with this. ]
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Please do that within reason.
[Sypha is a woman of patience within reason. Alucard thinks the situation has long since exhausted that patience, but he says nothing of the sort. He instead goes to do exactly as intended, and he flops down on a well worn sofa a few rows over. It has a little side table beside it, and the fabric is thread bare. It has been that way for as long as he can remember, and this? This was his little corner. All the alchemy and medical books met here, and he cold take everything he needed. There were once forts built of books around this sofa.
Aluard lies down, mushing his face into the cushions. He breathes in the must and the old book smell, and then sleep claims him.
Dreams do not come. That? That is a blessing.]
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Trevor’s coat is over Alucard when he stirs. He sits on the floor near the sofa, thumbing through a book. There’s more dried meat on the table, as well at a cup of particularly foul-smelling tea. ]
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When he wakes, it is all at once. He sits up and....oh. Trevor's coat. That's a kind gesture, although he doesn't utter those words out loud. Instead his eyes go to the table, then the tea (he doesn't want to know what's in it), then to Trevor himself.]
How long have I slept?
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[ The book he’s going through is- a little grim. Which is to say that it’s a history book, one detailing places that are and are not safe for mages. A collection of men and women tortured and executed for trying to help their fellow man. It’s a bit of a shock, when Leon had always regarded humanity so highly. ]
She wants you to drink the tea. Something about metal. She says her people use it for blood loss.
[...Iron, he means. Which might go a little way to explaining the red colour. Less so the smell. ]
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[Alucard sits up slowly, aware that he has still lost blood. His eyes go to the cover of the book Trevor is reading, and goodness. Of all the books.
His eyes go back to the tea, and Alucard shakes his head.]
It smells foul. I take it annoying her didn't go well?
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[ There’s the main ingredient. Fermented goat blood. ]
Any better? [ He kind of wants to ask if it hurts. He’s just not sure what he’d do with either answer. ]
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