[The parasite isn't even offering commentary at this point. That's a nod of how serious things have grown in this short dinner together, and what's likely to linger for a while more. There's a moodiness inherited from their father, and it manifests in moments like these.
But comfort is hardly something Alucard would expect in these moments either. There's been a frankness between the two that he appreciates far more, as it allows for adjusting to poor circumstances with some support. It always feels like poor circumstances, at any rate.]
I think you're correct. Names in and of themselves are immortality, if repeated enough. [He'd have to ask Sypha if there were ways to add to the legend of Dracula. Change it in ways to try and cut back on people trying to those who might disturb the man's rest.]
You and I both know difficult to kill isn't impossible. [Dracula was supposed to be impossible to kill, and look what happened. Being of his blood means that even as dhampirs, both Alucard and D are sturdier than most, but it has no promises.
There is a very quiet moment after those last four words. Alucard weighs the silence carefully, then stands up. Walks around the table, and does the only thing he thinks can be done in response. Crouching down on a truly awkward and awful angle, he makes to hug D as tightly as he can.]
[ no, not impossible. improbable, though, which he's relied upon in the past to get him through difficult fights. between his sire and the things dracula had done to d to make him what he is now, his particular sort of sturdiness has meant a certain recklessness in the past. a disregard for his safety, for injury, knowing how quickly he'd heal.
but he does want to keep his promise. he does want to be here in the future, not because he values his own life in particular, but because he values.. this. adrian.
he's distracted from further thoughts on the matter as his brother rises and crosses toward him, breath hitching faintly in surprise as he drops into a crouch. then arms curl around him, and d goes stiff with shock. for a moment, two, three, he doesn't respond, can't work out how to respond, pressing his left hand down tightly against the arm of the chair to keep the parasite from seeing or speaking. at last, though, slowly, his free arm slides cautiously over adrian's shoulder, long fingers cradling the back of his brother's head with something very close to reverence. ]
.. Make this place into a home again. [ he strokes nails gently through blond hair, down adrian's nape, then up again. ] And.. pick a set of rooms for me. I suppose. This one, or.. [ or any. something that can belong to d, that can be a reminder that he has roots here, however tentative. ]
[Alucard catches that pressing of the parasite down against the fabric of the chair. It gets a soft snuffle of a laugh out of him, because sometimes, having to worry about the thing results in gentle absurdities. Like that. And it gives D a few scant moments to figure out a correct response.
This embrace isn't common between them. There's been no particular reason for it in the past, thing strained and polite, but still distant. Too much has happened in the past year, making it clear that the distance was perhaps not the best idea in the world.
The way that D's nails move through Alucard's hair carry a particular touch of the familiar. It is the strangest reminder of their shared heritage yet, but Alucard remembers how he'd insist on attaching to his father in his youth, and the careful movements of long nails through his hair. The realization doesn't ache though. There's comfort in it instead.]
This room and the en suite are two doors down from where I am. I trust that'll be good enough.
[He moved his rooms, after everything went so badly awry. This area's better anyway. Closer to the kitchen. Second floor, no need to go up too many flights of stairs.]
[ he knows, at least, that he resembles their father, enough to sometimes frighten those that don't bother to look more closely. whoever his mother had been, she'd softened his features into prettiness, but otherwise, there's no denying his heritage. it's strange to him sometimes, then, how golden adrian is, hair and eyes like the sunlight that seems to love him. they must look an odd pair to his brother's partners.
which is all to say.. that he wonders if this is how dracula had held his son, if d is doing something right, or only causing adrian more pain. his own childhood, such that it existed, had not held much of softness in it, and is in any case long, long in the past. but adrian isn't pulling away, so perhaps he's doing something correctly. ]
Yes, [ he finally says, and presses his nose briefly to the golden crown of his brother's head. ] .. To think, I swore I would never return to this place. [ and yet, here he is, willing to make it.. home. as close as he can manage, anyway. ]
[They're words uttered softly, but wrapped around them is an incredible warmth and sense of relief. One of the things he has come to appreciate the most about D is that they can reach between each other's lines. A skill less due to Dracula and far more because they're both fairly obvious in their ways, even if they like to pretend otherwise.
Maybe this embrace has gone on a bit too long. Alucard can't bring himself to pull away from it, the affection pulling up far more pleasant memories of the past than he's dwelled on in some time. To connect those with the present is perhaps the best possible outcome. He can't possibly guess at what this might be brushing up against for his brother, but if it is for the worst, Alucard hope that this moment will replace whatever unpleasantness is trying to bubble up to the surface.]
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But comfort is hardly something Alucard would expect in these moments either. There's been a frankness between the two that he appreciates far more, as it allows for adjusting to poor circumstances with some support. It always feels like poor circumstances, at any rate.]
I think you're correct. Names in and of themselves are immortality, if repeated enough. [He'd have to ask Sypha if there were ways to add to the legend of Dracula. Change it in ways to try and cut back on people trying to those who might disturb the man's rest.]
You and I both know difficult to kill isn't impossible. [Dracula was supposed to be impossible to kill, and look what happened. Being of his blood means that even as dhampirs, both Alucard and D are sturdier than most, but it has no promises.
There is a very quiet moment after those last four words. Alucard weighs the silence carefully, then stands up. Walks around the table, and does the only thing he thinks can be done in response. Crouching down on a truly awkward and awful angle, he makes to hug D as tightly as he can.]
no subject
but he does want to keep his promise. he does want to be here in the future, not because he values his own life in particular, but because he values.. this. adrian.
he's distracted from further thoughts on the matter as his brother rises and crosses toward him, breath hitching faintly in surprise as he drops into a crouch. then arms curl around him, and d goes stiff with shock. for a moment, two, three, he doesn't respond, can't work out how to respond, pressing his left hand down tightly against the arm of the chair to keep the parasite from seeing or speaking. at last, though, slowly, his free arm slides cautiously over adrian's shoulder, long fingers cradling the back of his brother's head with something very close to reverence. ]
.. Make this place into a home again. [ he strokes nails gently through blond hair, down adrian's nape, then up again. ] And.. pick a set of rooms for me. I suppose. This one, or.. [ or any. something that can belong to d, that can be a reminder that he has roots here, however tentative. ]
no subject
This embrace isn't common between them. There's been no particular reason for it in the past, thing strained and polite, but still distant. Too much has happened in the past year, making it clear that the distance was perhaps not the best idea in the world.
The way that D's nails move through Alucard's hair carry a particular touch of the familiar. It is the strangest reminder of their shared heritage yet, but Alucard remembers how he'd insist on attaching to his father in his youth, and the careful movements of long nails through his hair. The realization doesn't ache though. There's comfort in it instead.]
This room and the en suite are two doors down from where I am. I trust that'll be good enough.
[He moved his rooms, after everything went so badly awry. This area's better anyway. Closer to the kitchen. Second floor, no need to go up too many flights of stairs.]
no subject
which is all to say.. that he wonders if this is how dracula had held his son, if d is doing something right, or only causing adrian more pain. his own childhood, such that it existed, had not held much of softness in it, and is in any case long, long in the past. but adrian isn't pulling away, so perhaps he's doing something correctly. ]
Yes, [ he finally says, and presses his nose briefly to the golden crown of his brother's head. ] .. To think, I swore I would never return to this place. [ and yet, here he is, willing to make it.. home. as close as he can manage, anyway. ]
no subject
[They're words uttered softly, but wrapped around them is an incredible warmth and sense of relief. One of the things he has come to appreciate the most about D is that they can reach between each other's lines. A skill less due to Dracula and far more because they're both fairly obvious in their ways, even if they like to pretend otherwise.
Maybe this embrace has gone on a bit too long. Alucard can't bring himself to pull away from it, the affection pulling up far more pleasant memories of the past than he's dwelled on in some time. To connect those with the present is perhaps the best possible outcome. He can't possibly guess at what this might be brushing up against for his brother, but if it is for the worst, Alucard hope that this moment will replace whatever unpleasantness is trying to bubble up to the surface.]