[ He spends a few months with Alucard, and he never touches him except to carry him from place to place. He plays at domesticity, creating only grassy land outside the cottage and tending it in the human way with digging and planting and weeding. He builds parts of the cottage in the human way, too, until Alucard has a little windowed area built of real stone and wood to sit in the sunlight and read. Trees take too long, the human way, so he never manages to put one in the garden. But he digs a little pond and brings brightly coloured fish to fill it with. Builds a little seat by it so Alucard can sit and let his feet dangle in the water.
He knows it won’t ever be enough, and it isn’t. He brings Alucard back to his own world. Takes him to a place where he says students of medicine are safer. He doesn’t ask to kiss him goodbye.
Time passes. Years. There are no real consequences to breaking the deal that he can sense, not most of the time. Occasionally, his mind screams at him to seek out Alucard (an unconscious attempt at a summoning in moments of danger, not that either of them know it). But he can ignore it. He does ignore it.
It’s seven years and two days since the burning when he next sees Alucard. It’s the very early hours of the morning when he knocks on the clinic door, antlers and wings hidden behind glamours, with a person in his arms. Breaking all the rules again, because he doesn’t know how to repair a human without magic. ]
[In the end, he had stayed for six months. Perhaps it was more time than strictly needed, but part of Alucard had come to appreciate the place. Just a little. Just a hair, because in that closed off little world, no one else could come and go without his own or Trevor's say so. It was quiet. Safe. The only other frequent visitors was one of the dogs that belonged to Trevor's sister (Dog #8, a white fluff cloud of a thing who seemed only to exist to cuddle and warm people.) Alucard ended up sitting near the pond most days, dozing, reading, or letting the dog lie on him. Trevor's presence was no less appreciated but--
--this wasn't an acceptable forever. Alucard knew that much, even if he knew the world wasn't safe. There were some places that might be better than most though, and so for that reason, he had asked Trevor to drop him in Istanbul.
He was older now, with a fine beard and as much muscle mass as he'd ever have in his life, most likely. Alucard walked slow, sometimes with a cane on bad days, and when asked what injury had harmed him so, he never gave the same story twice.
His neighborhood was small. Mostly Europeans, although some Turks had begun to move into the area. No man of faith, Alucard still fit into the Ottoman categorization of Christian, and paid the taxes accordingly. It didn't matter, he could afford it. His medical practice was successful enough in small circles.
That he was still single was a neighbor mystery. He was handsome enough, long hair and a well kept beard, dressed in fine clothes, and clearly could use a companion to lean on. When asked, he only ever gave a sadder, rawer smile and admitted he had bad luck in love. There was something in the smile that got most to drop the subject.
It takes time for Alucard to get to the door. He still sleeps light, and the call to morning prayers inevitably wakes him. But it's too early for that, and so when Alucard opens the door, he's surprised.
Patients show up on his door all the time. Faeries don't.]
[ He pulls the person in his arms tighter to his chest. It’s hard to tell their gender like this, coppery hair cropped short and face too gaunt to read as masculine or feminine. They’re bundled tightly in furs against the night air, with the collar of a speaker robe poking out beneath them. ]
I took the plague out of her. I did it right. But it’s been two days and she still won’t wake up. The queen doesn’t allow her people in our lands, and I don’t know-
[ Because just getting rid of the sickness by pulling it out and beating up up doesn’t actually repair the damage that it’s done. ]
[Had plague. That's still a potential problem, and so when Alucard lets Trevor in, he gestures the Belmont to the back of the little home he's made for himself. It's two stories, with the clinic downstairs and living quarters upstairs, and in the back? A quarantine room.]
Let me take a look. While I'm doing that, I need you to destroy all of their garments. The furs, any clothes, everything, The things that carry the plague thrive on fabric. I can give them clean things later. Anything metal I'll sterilize.
...won’t she- not have clothes on? If I destroy them?
[ NOT THE TIME TO BE CONCERNED ABOUT THAT. He carries the woman to the back, where Alucard leads them. Lays her down carefully on the cot there. Tries to be businesslike about it as he strips away the many, many layers of blankets and robes covering her. ]
I’ve been trying to give her sugar water, to keep her from starving or having too little water. But she can’t swallow it in her sleep and I can only give her a few drops at a time in case she- I don’t know if humans can drown from being fed water wrong.
[That's all Alucard says. He just goes about his own business, washing his hands first. Pulling his hair back and up. Putting on thick hide gloves that have been treated to deal with bodily fluids. Then a scarf is tied over his nose and mouth, certain that while Trevor probably has destroyed the plague? He can't take any risks.
Alucard's examination is slow and careful.]
How long was she ill? And if there's any remaining plague in here, can you kindly destroy it now?
None left. I’ve checked. I thought it was still there, at first. But it’s not. It’s gone, it’s just- it’s not hurting her anymore, but she’s not getting better from the hurting it did already.
[ There’s an art to not looking while also not making a big deal out of not looking, and Trevor is not great at it. But he’s trying, and slowly each layer is removed and added to a tight bundle of cloth. ]
Her caravan said she left them two weeks ago, when she first knew she was sick. And she’d have to have been sick to know that she was sick so- maybe a little longer than that.
So some of this is starvation and dehydration. That's easy to fix.
[It requires a lot of careful control, but still. Alucard can do that, and he always has enough stored food to make that possible. He reaches for Sypha's arms, and there are sores that are barely healed.
He understands then. She went into the wilderness, survived the worst of the illness, but that left her body with no energy to recover.]
I'm going to clean all the marks from the sores and bandage them. Her body worked overtime to fight the plague, but that's why she isn't recovering. Not enough energy to do so. Sugar water wouldn't be enough.
[ He repeats it softly. Two weeks. Her people could have moved on hundreds of miles by then. She’ll be alone here in a country she doesn’t know with no way to find her family again. ]
[ He looks down to the bundle of cloth in his arms. ]
I should- take all of this outside to destroy it, right? [ He’s gonna eat it. He’s a moth, eating cloth is what he does. ] And then I- I’ll wait there, until you have something for me to do.
[Alucard doesn't realize method of destruction. Not yet at any rate, and he'll regret that later.]
If you can then fetch water and bring it back here when you're done, that would be appreciated. Once that's happened I'll start to head to the market to buy additional supplies.
[ It doesn't take long. It's a shame, to destroy so much material. But he can always weave more. Sypha is weak, gaunt and marked all over by sores, but refusing to die, keeping her heart beating and her lungs moving through what seems to be sheer force of will. Trevor is back at the clinic before Alucard is done with the examination, leaving a pail of water in the quarantine room before sitting down on the floor, apparently waiting for further instructions. ]
[Alucard always has one or two spare patient garments for things like this. It's in case of infection or too much blood, and what's clear is that Sypha's will need to be fitted appropriately. There's so little of her, but that she's still here?
Remarkable.
So when Trevor gets back, Alucard knows he can help.]
Trevor? I'm going to start washing her sores. There'll be a store of bandages in the drawer next to you. I need you to hand them to me as I finish drying them off. We'll finish that first, and then I'll get new clothes for her. Then get to cooking.
[ And he does. It's not difficult work, at least not Trevor's part of it. Just- upsetting, seeing those sores. He's not taken Sypha's clothes off. It hasn't occurred to him that he might need to. So those have been there all this time, and he didn't know.
Maybe it's best that she didn't wake up. She'd have been in terrible pain.
It's it's only once all those sores are cleaned and bound that his gaze turns to Alucard. He's changed, as humans do with time. Grown into himself a little more. He was never ugly before, certainly not after being given time to recover, but he's- he's not afraid anymore, and that's more beautiful than anything else.
Those thoughts don't last long, though, because he notices how Alucard walks. As Alucard brings the clothes and they set about dressing Sypha, he notices. ]
[It takes Alucard a moment to realize that Trevor is asking after Alucard, not Sypha. He was ready to speak about that much. So he does look a little thrown, but recovers quickly.]
I just have to be careful about how much pressure I exert at any given time. Given the state of things, it could have been far worse and debilitating.
[There. Sypha's dressed, and Alucard has a spare blanket under the cot. He fishes it out and then tucks Sypha in, making sure she'll be warm.]
[ He didn't do enough. Not enough for Alucard. Maybe not enough for Sypha.
She looks so small, so frail without all of the furs. He's sure she'll be warm enough in here, but still, every part of him is screaming at him to do something to make this right. ]
[ He's touching him. He's touching him. Trevor stands a little straighter when Alucard's hand touches his shoulder, trying not to lean into the touch like the over-affectionate creature that he is. He knows not to. They became clear on not touching Alucard a long time ago.
But Alucard didn't touch him, back then. This is new. Good. ]
I will.
[ He does. He talks to her a lot, as the next few days pass. Speakers like stories, he knows, and he isn't quite clear on whether that means they need them to survive and he isn't willing to take chances. So he tells her stories. They're not good ones. Most of them consist of imagining a monster made of a mixture of disparate parts and then saying 'it was bad and it died'. But he's trying.
And he tries to help Alucard in his normal work, as well. He can't do a lot, not without showing himself to people and forcing Alucard to explain why there's a person in his house (it does not occur to him that 'he brought a patient here and is waiting for them to be treated' is a completely viable explanation as well as being the truth). But he can keep fetching water. If nobody is in the clinic he can carry things and clean. And he can weave while he tells Sypha stories. He makes bandages and dressings and works on and off on a new robe for the speaker.
Sypha's woken a few times by now, though never for more than a minute or so at a time and never enough to really be coherent. It's enough. She's recovering.
But he still worries. It's evening on the fourth day, and the clinic is as closed for the night as it can be when Alucard is willing to answer the door for random fairies in the small hours of the morning. Most of Trevor is sat on the floor by the first, with a few of his moths flitting around lamps. ]
Thank you. I'm going to go change and then head out.
[The next few days are routine for Alucard, in truth, as much as there can ever be a routine. He goes to the markets in the morning to get food. He comes back and prepares breakfast, usually just rice and a little bit of protein, or else he takes the same broth that he gives to Sypha every few hours. It isn't much, and he's worried it won't take. She needs to be awake to get real food into her, and broth can only carry so much.
He sees patients. Makes their perscriptions in front of them, explaining each step and how it all works. He goes out to see those that cannot travel to his clinic, and then he rests at night. Trevor's presence is noted but hardly disruptive, and that his definition of help includes making bandages and dressings? That means even more.
When Trevor's question comes, it's after a particularly long day. Alucard's been relying on the cane he has for the day, as he has had to do more running around than he'd like. It makes some things like cooking a true pain, so tonight he's settled with some leftover cold meats and not much else.]
I can't say for sure either way, Trevor. She has to be awake more than she is for me to make any kind of determination.
[The last thing Alucard intends to do is to warm some of the remaining water and rest his feet in it.]
[ The hardest thing about the bandages is making them not seem too fine. He doesn't understand a lot about humans, but he knows that if Alucard went around bandaging people with silk then it would bring suspicion onto him. He doesn't like the results, but they're appropriate for the task.
He's working on a sheet of the ugly, uneven cloth now, as he frets. This has been the first really bad day he's been here to see. And it's clear that no matter what Alucard said earlier, the injuries do still trouble him. Humans are bad at healing. Slow. Sometimes they just don't heal at all. It scares him. ]
She's been waking up a lot today. [ Not enough to eat, and not enough for her to even start to understand where she is. But a good few times. He's saying it mostly for himself. Alucard- probably already knows how these things go better than he does. ] Is there anything I can do, to make this easier?
In truth, I don't think so. Fluids have been helping, but we really, really need her awake for longer to get something substantial in her body.
[He'll stay home all day tomorrow. He cleared appointments and bought a few days worth of supplies. Besides, he needs to rest and not push any of his own healing. Alucard knows that much.]
A lot of this process is a waiting game, I'm afraid.
Humans heal so slowly. I don’t know how you get anything done.
[ He huffs at it quietly, holding the cloth up to the firelight to watch it flicker through the too-wide holes. It doesn’t look like the work of a master weaver. Which is infuriating but also exactly what one needs for bandages not to raise concern. ]
Will she be able to leave, when she gets better? Her caravan will have moved on by now, I’ll need to track them down.
[Alucard takes a few bites of food before continuing, and he evaluates Trevor's work from his own distance. It's nice, having supplies without paying for them.]
Hopefully she'll wake up soon. It'd be nice to have something to call her other than just 'plague lady'.
[ Not that giving one's name to him would be the best idea in the world to someone who doesn't know how bad he is at fairy-ing. But at least he can have a fake name to call her by. He sets the cloth down. He doesn't really like looking at the imperfect work, and it'll be a relief when it's shredded into bandages. And so he turns his back on it, scooting over to Alucard's table to sit by his feet. Watching his hands, how they're bony in places and acid-marked in others, with that shiny burn scar along one. ]
Is it easier now?
[ Touching he means, not that he's giving any indication that that's what he's talking about. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He knows it won’t ever be enough, and it isn’t. He brings Alucard back to his own world. Takes him to a place where he says students of medicine are safer. He doesn’t ask to kiss him goodbye.
Time passes. Years. There are no real consequences to breaking the deal that he can sense, not most of the time. Occasionally, his mind screams at him to seek out Alucard (an unconscious attempt at a summoning in moments of danger, not that either of them know it). But he can ignore it. He does ignore it.
It’s seven years and two days since the burning when he next sees Alucard. It’s the very early hours of the morning when he knocks on the clinic door, antlers and wings hidden behind glamours, with a person in his arms. Breaking all the rules again, because he doesn’t know how to repair a human without magic. ]
I need a doctor. Please.
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--this wasn't an acceptable forever. Alucard knew that much, even if he knew the world wasn't safe. There were some places that might be better than most though, and so for that reason, he had asked Trevor to drop him in Istanbul.
He was older now, with a fine beard and as much muscle mass as he'd ever have in his life, most likely. Alucard walked slow, sometimes with a cane on bad days, and when asked what injury had harmed him so, he never gave the same story twice.
His neighborhood was small. Mostly Europeans, although some Turks had begun to move into the area. No man of faith, Alucard still fit into the Ottoman categorization of Christian, and paid the taxes accordingly. It didn't matter, he could afford it. His medical practice was successful enough in small circles.
That he was still single was a neighbor mystery. He was handsome enough, long hair and a well kept beard, dressed in fine clothes, and clearly could use a companion to lean on. When asked, he only ever gave a sadder, rawer smile and admitted he had bad luck in love. There was something in the smile that got most to drop the subject.
It takes time for Alucard to get to the door. He still sleeps light, and the call to morning prayers inevitably wakes him. But it's too early for that, and so when Alucard opens the door, he's surprised.
Patients show up on his door all the time. Faeries don't.]
Trevor?
[He blinks slowly, before standing aside.]
What's happened?
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[ He pulls the person in his arms tighter to his chest. It’s hard to tell their gender like this, coppery hair cropped short and face too gaunt to read as masculine or feminine. They’re bundled tightly in furs against the night air, with the collar of a speaker robe poking out beneath them. ]
I took the plague out of her. I did it right. But it’s been two days and she still won’t wake up. The queen doesn’t allow her people in our lands, and I don’t know-
[ Because just getting rid of the sickness by pulling it out and beating up up doesn’t actually repair the damage that it’s done. ]
-I don’t know where else to go. Please.
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Let me take a look. While I'm doing that, I need you to destroy all of their garments. The furs, any clothes, everything, The things that carry the plague thrive on fabric. I can give them clean things later. Anything metal I'll sterilize.
Do you have any questions?
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[ NOT THE TIME TO BE CONCERNED ABOUT THAT. He carries the woman to the back, where Alucard leads them. Lays her down carefully on the cot there. Tries to be businesslike about it as he strips away the many, many layers of blankets and robes covering her. ]
I’ve been trying to give her sugar water, to keep her from starving or having too little water. But she can’t swallow it in her sleep and I can only give her a few drops at a time in case she- I don’t know if humans can drown from being fed water wrong.
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[That's all Alucard says. He just goes about his own business, washing his hands first. Pulling his hair back and up. Putting on thick hide gloves that have been treated to deal with bodily fluids. Then a scarf is tied over his nose and mouth, certain that while Trevor probably has destroyed the plague? He can't take any risks.
Alucard's examination is slow and careful.]
How long was she ill? And if there's any remaining plague in here, can you kindly destroy it now?
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[ There’s an art to not looking while also not making a big deal out of not looking, and Trevor is not great at it. But he’s trying, and slowly each layer is removed and added to a tight bundle of cloth. ]
Her caravan said she left them two weeks ago, when she first knew she was sick. And she’d have to have been sick to know that she was sick so- maybe a little longer than that.
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[It requires a lot of careful control, but still. Alucard can do that, and he always has enough stored food to make that possible. He reaches for Sypha's arms, and there are sores that are barely healed.
He understands then. She went into the wilderness, survived the worst of the illness, but that left her body with no energy to recover.]
I'm going to clean all the marks from the sores and bandage them. Her body worked overtime to fight the plague, but that's why she isn't recovering. Not enough energy to do so. Sugar water wouldn't be enough.
[He shakes his head slowly.]
She'll be here about two weeks.
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[ He repeats it softly. Two weeks. Her people could have moved on hundreds of miles by then. She’ll be alone here in a country she doesn’t know with no way to find her family again. ]
...may I see her, while she recovers?
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That would be a great help to me, actually.
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I should- take all of this outside to destroy it, right? [ He’s gonna eat it. He’s a moth, eating cloth is what he does. ] And then I- I’ll wait there, until you have something for me to do.
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[Alucard doesn't realize method of destruction. Not yet at any rate, and he'll regret that later.]
If you can then fetch water and bring it back here when you're done, that would be appreciated. Once that's happened I'll start to head to the market to buy additional supplies.
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[ It doesn't take long. It's a shame, to destroy so much material. But he can always weave more. Sypha is weak, gaunt and marked all over by sores, but refusing to die, keeping her heart beating and her lungs moving through what seems to be sheer force of will. Trevor is back at the clinic before Alucard is done with the examination, leaving a pail of water in the quarantine room before sitting down on the floor, apparently waiting for further instructions. ]
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Remarkable.
So when Trevor gets back, Alucard knows he can help.]
Trevor? I'm going to start washing her sores. There'll be a store of bandages in the drawer next to you. I need you to hand them to me as I finish drying them off. We'll finish that first, and then I'll get new clothes for her. Then get to cooking.
Can you do all that?
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[ And he does. It's not difficult work, at least not Trevor's part of it. Just- upsetting, seeing those sores. He's not taken Sypha's clothes off. It hasn't occurred to him that he might need to. So those have been there all this time, and he didn't know.
Maybe it's best that she didn't wake up. She'd have been in terrible pain.
It's it's only once all those sores are cleaned and bound that his gaze turns to Alucard. He's changed, as humans do with time. Grown into himself a little more. He was never ugly before, certainly not after being given time to recover, but he's- he's not afraid anymore, and that's more beautiful than anything else.
Those thoughts don't last long, though, because he notices how Alucard walks. As Alucard brings the clothes and they set about dressing Sypha, he notices. ]
It still hurts?
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[It takes Alucard a moment to realize that Trevor is asking after Alucard, not Sypha. He was ready to speak about that much. So he does look a little thrown, but recovers quickly.]
I just have to be careful about how much pressure I exert at any given time. Given the state of things, it could have been far worse and debilitating.
[There. Sypha's dressed, and Alucard has a spare blanket under the cot. He fishes it out and then tucks Sypha in, making sure she'll be warm.]
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She looks so small, so frail without all of the furs. He's sure she'll be warm enough in here, but still, every part of him is screaming at him to do something to make this right. ]
Would it be easier if I went to the market?
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[He smiles softly, and to make a point, reaches over to gently pat Trevor's shoulder.]
Stay with her. Tell her there will be food soon.
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But Alucard didn't touch him, back then. This is new. Good. ]
I will.
[ He does. He talks to her a lot, as the next few days pass. Speakers like stories, he knows, and he isn't quite clear on whether that means they need them to survive and he isn't willing to take chances. So he tells her stories. They're not good ones. Most of them consist of imagining a monster made of a mixture of disparate parts and then saying 'it was bad and it died'. But he's trying.
And he tries to help Alucard in his normal work, as well. He can't do a lot, not without showing himself to people and forcing Alucard to explain why there's a person in his house (it does not occur to him that 'he brought a patient here and is waiting for them to be treated' is a completely viable explanation as well as being the truth). But he can keep fetching water. If nobody is in the clinic he can carry things and clean. And he can weave while he tells Sypha stories. He makes bandages and dressings and works on and off on a new robe for the speaker.
Sypha's woken a few times by now, though never for more than a minute or so at a time and never enough to really be coherent. It's enough. She's recovering.
But he still worries. It's evening on the fourth day, and the clinic is as closed for the night as it can be when Alucard is willing to answer the door for random fairies in the small hours of the morning. Most of Trevor is sat on the floor by the first, with a few of his moths flitting around lamps. ]
Will she not heal all the way, like you didn't?
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[The next few days are routine for Alucard, in truth, as much as there can ever be a routine. He goes to the markets in the morning to get food. He comes back and prepares breakfast, usually just rice and a little bit of protein, or else he takes the same broth that he gives to Sypha every few hours. It isn't much, and he's worried it won't take. She needs to be awake to get real food into her, and broth can only carry so much.
He sees patients. Makes their perscriptions in front of them, explaining each step and how it all works. He goes out to see those that cannot travel to his clinic, and then he rests at night. Trevor's presence is noted but hardly disruptive, and that his definition of help includes making bandages and dressings? That means even more.
When Trevor's question comes, it's after a particularly long day. Alucard's been relying on the cane he has for the day, as he has had to do more running around than he'd like. It makes some things like cooking a true pain, so tonight he's settled with some leftover cold meats and not much else.]
I can't say for sure either way, Trevor. She has to be awake more than she is for me to make any kind of determination.
[The last thing Alucard intends to do is to warm some of the remaining water and rest his feet in it.]
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He's working on a sheet of the ugly, uneven cloth now, as he frets. This has been the first really bad day he's been here to see. And it's clear that no matter what Alucard said earlier, the injuries do still trouble him. Humans are bad at healing. Slow. Sometimes they just don't heal at all. It scares him. ]
She's been waking up a lot today. [ Not enough to eat, and not enough for her to even start to understand where she is. But a good few times. He's saying it mostly for himself. Alucard- probably already knows how these things go better than he does. ] Is there anything I can do, to make this easier?
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[He'll stay home all day tomorrow. He cleared appointments and bought a few days worth of supplies. Besides, he needs to rest and not push any of his own healing. Alucard knows that much.]
A lot of this process is a waiting game, I'm afraid.
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[ He huffs at it quietly, holding the cloth up to the firelight to watch it flicker through the too-wide holes. It doesn’t look like the work of a master weaver. Which is infuriating but also exactly what one needs for bandages not to raise concern. ]
Will she be able to leave, when she gets better? Her caravan will have moved on by now, I’ll need to track them down.
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[Alucard takes a few bites of food before continuing, and he evaluates Trevor's work from his own distance. It's nice, having supplies without paying for them.]
She will. That much I can promise you.
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[ Not that giving one's name to him would be the best idea in the world to someone who doesn't know how bad he is at fairy-ing. But at least he can have a fake name to call her by. He sets the cloth down. He doesn't really like looking at the imperfect work, and it'll be a relief when it's shredded into bandages. And so he turns his back on it, scooting over to Alucard's table to sit by his feet. Watching his hands, how they're bony in places and acid-marked in others, with that shiny burn scar along one. ]
Is it easier now?
[ Touching he means, not that he's giving any indication that that's what he's talking about. ]
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