[Mostly he'd like to crawl into a hole and not come out! Which in
theory, is perfectly plausible in this place, but there is still a part of
Alucard that was raised correctly, thank you that points out that he
can be swallowed by the Earth only after guests leave.
There's a crunch of bread under the weight of the serrated knife as Alucard
continues to cut through the bread, more needing something to focus on than
anything else. The crust wasn't this thick before, was it? Is he actually
making this place give him crunchier crust for the sake of filling in the
noise.]
Did you impale her corpse on the front lawn afterwards?
[The Alucard version of unloading is, in fact, to ask a very weird
question while focusing on food and avoiding all contact, while
keeping a conversationally flippant tone. It isn't really a great way of
coping, he's aware.]
[Gideon winces, the sound a sharp inhalation through her teeth as he sounds out the word impale.]
There was an impaling involved, but alas, it wasn't her. Harrow and I did finish her off though.
[Or so her necromancer had assured her. She'd been there...in a sense. Abruptly, she shakes her head. Ignores the suddenly very crunchy bread to push on with the crux of their conversation.]
But never mind me. It sounds like she got what was coming to her. I hope all the blood didn't fuck up your front lawn too much.
[Somehow, the magic words are there was an impaling involved.
It lessens the shame of what Alucard did in the immediate aftermath of an
encounter gone terribly, terribly awry, and it's only because he isn't the
only person who's used it as a course of action. Doubtlessly the
circumstances are difference, but that isn't the point.]
Wouldn't be able to tell you the state of the lawn. I was in that well
that Ambrose used before I could make a proper assessment.
[Finally, he turns back around. Alucard forces his eyes to meet
Gideon's, although there's no firm emotion in them right now. He's trying
for calm, but everything right now is an absolute roller coaster.
Baby steps. And the obvious question:] I have a feeling I know
the answer to this one, but does your world have vampires or other blood
drinkers?
[There's a flicker of interest in her at the thought that they'd both arrived here following an impaling, albeit under quite different circumstances. But she lets that thought drift off into the ether, meets his gaze as she answers his question.]
I don't know about vampires, but if the hot vampire babes with bangin'...personalities in comics are anything to go by, I wouldn't mind meeting one.
[She starts to smile, but then remembers they're in the midst of what is clearly a serious conversation, and abruptly she clears her throat.]
Some revenants drink blood though, and ghosts are called back to talk to the living with a blood offering, usually. Even some kinds of necromancy involve the consumption of blood...so yeah, I guess it does.
[Gideon please stay away from Carmilla's castle you're doomed if
that happens. ]
I see. [There's a brief nod, because as long as Gideon is familiar
with the concept, then he doesn't need to delve into every background
detail.] My father was one, and long built a reputation for
brutality, impalement, and all other things that go with it. His
reputation was earned, and rightly so. My mother was human. [He
could go into the details of the relationship, but that's not the point.
This is the easy part anyway: the recitation of facts. No emotions are
involved with facts.] She was murdered, and rather than simply
respond in kind to those directly involved in her death, my father decided
to use all his magical abilities, summon hordes of hell to wreck the whole
country, had all other vampires of rank come to assist in exterminating
humanity, and placed two necromancers in charge of the whole thing.
It's the exact thing my mother hated, and to say we disagreed was--
[An understatement, and a painful one at that. He breathes out,
forcing himself not to dwell on the argument that followed. Now begins the
difficult part.]
I committed patricide. Arguably the correct thing on the whole, especially
because my mother would have been furious about the use of her memory to
commit unspeakable violence, but that doesn't matter. Then-- [Then
Trevor and Sypha's departure. Then the isolation. And then the part where
everything gets so much harder.]
Vampires see humans, by and large, as entertaining livestock. For some,
that means filling their courts and playing with lives. To wish to destroy
that is...I understand the impulse. So when I had two people appear
wishing to do that, I let them in. Showed and gained affection in turn,
not realizing I was inviting what I just told you. [Just
facts, he tells himself again. But no, this is the emotional part. So
he thinks it'll be okay, if his gaze turns to the window. His voice
wavers, trying to be flippant, even as the emotional cracks seep in. The
bread knife is long since abandoned, and Alucard folds his arms over his
chest.]
In bed, with two people who I trusted and were the first to show me any
kind of romantic affection in the year and change since the nonsense
started. They thought me an enemy. Would've managed to kill me if I
didn't have that sword trick I showed you earlier, and at that point, there
was wisdom in some of my father's past actions and reputation. Impaled the
corpses as they were, and then that well.
[The remnants of her stew temporarily forgotten, Gideon - for once - shuts up and listens. Just soaks in the story he's spinning for her-- genocidal fathers, dead mothers, patricide, a threesome (hot) gone terribly awry (less hot) and ending in an impaling? This is definitely how she’s understood it, and his story has it all. He practically is Ninth-- Maybe she should introduce him to Harrow after all, see if the Reverend Daughter will be willing to take him on as an honorary shadow cultist.
She stays silent until he's finished, then stays silent some more. Let's all of that sink in before she whistles low through her teeth.]
So you're saying these two lured you into a menage et trois, letting you think they were into you, all with the intention of killing you in your own fucking bed? Because of something your dad did, even though you were the one to bump him off? Have I got that right? Fuuuuck, that blows.
[She can understand it, the burning hatred one might feel for someone who treats humans - who treats people her - like playthings or livestock. Living the shitty life of a bondswoman, a slave, a thrall-- it's something she knows deep as bones, thick as blood. Something that had fuelled her own heart's black fire for years. But this all sounds just so--]
So underhand. And it wasn't even you, personally, they had beef with?
[Alucard's not sure what reaction he might've expected. Some form
of judgement, yes, that much he anticipated. So the follow ups that Gideon
offers instead come with a muted disbelief. (He's still not looking in her
direction. The rain's picked up now, gently tapping against the roof.
There's worse ambiance out there.)]
Technically, it was me managing to murder him that they were interested
in. They had lived in a vampire's court and wanted to learn how to fight
other vampires to protect themselves and their people. That part--
[He sighs, swallowing down a lump that's since built up in his
throat.] I understood that part. It's why I let them in and tried
to help. They just thought I was keeping things from them.
[Which brings them both to the second question.] That
should answer the other part as well. [There's a moment that
Alucard closes his eyes, and a black, bitter attempt at a laugh bubbles out
of him.] I have no idea how you thought I had my life together.
[If he'd been looking for judgement he's come to the wrong place-- living in the dark heart of Drearburh for one's whole life is enough to turn anyone's morals decidedly grey. Perhaps for the most part she doesn't agree with just wantonly killing people for no given reason at all, but this sounds a hell of a lot like self-defence and revenge all rolled into one ugly bundle, and no one can be judged too harshly for that. Perhaps her strange and alien loyalties had always stayed her hand when it came to slicing Crux in two whilst he slept, or kicking Harrow's ass up and down the little spacecraft that had taken them to Canaan House when she was at her weakest. But she understands it. The need to avenge oneself, to keep oneself safe from further attacks.
Cytherea had got what she deserved in the end, and she has precisely zero regrets about that.]
I'm so bloody sorry, Al. That blows. I guess I can see what might have made them vicious and paranoid, but you were trying to help them and didn't fucking deserve it.
[It's how she sees it at least, though fuck if she knows anything at all. She's never claimed to.]
And I don't know. I guess you just seem all cool and aloof and shit. Like you've read some books in your time and might have a clue what's going on. Although I don't think I've ever met someone who totally has got their life together, not really. Admittedly though, I don't know very many people.
[In truth, this was what he needed. So much of Alucard is wrapped up in the judgement and guilt over his own actions, the awfulness of it all after time has past, knowing that his actions ran counter to how he was raised. There's just a new streak of it all lately, anger and paranoia, wanting to lash out far more than he ever did when it was just his father's death hanging heavy over him.
So when Gideon offers at least some understanding about the incident, even up to the point of impaling, it's a genuine surprise. Enough for him to finally turn and look at her, making no attempt to hide the guilt and shame written on his face. There's the threat of tears, but nothing has come of that yet.
A choking sound that might be a laugh manages to squeak out.]
I've read plenty of books, but we're in the same boat of not knowing many people. The only thing I can really say is try not to let your necromancer raise a whole army?
[She thinks she can see it; there's an ache in his eyes that's hot and raw, lending them an aqueous quality that makes the gold of them seem molten. Like he's standing right at the edge of himself, on a knife's point precipice that would take just the lightest brush to push him down from. She feels the first scrabble of panic down deep in her chest, a scraping against her ribcage, because this isn't the kind of situation she came prepared for. She has no experience here, not in how to assuage other people's feelings. Like, should they hug it out? Would that make things worse, or better?
This isn't the kind of thing they teach you in shadow cults.
He makes that horrible choking sound, somewhere between a laugh and something entirely worse, and she decides then - abruptly - that perhaps the way forward is a stream of ridiculous commentary that might, on the off-chance, amuse him.]
Un-fucking-likely. I mean, don't get me wrong, she could do it. She is absolutely not someone you want to pick a fight with, and I'm talking from experience here. But what she knows about organised battle could fill a whole book...if the book was more of a pamphlet filled with blank pages. I honestly think if she had her way she'd spend the rest of her days in some stuffy old library with her nose in a wretched old tome until she expires and becomes a skeleton herself.
[She smiles a small, sharp smile-- more wry than beaming.]
Look. All I know is, you shouldn't beat yourself up for defending yourself. Even if you did do it in the flashiest way you could think of. After the shitty way they acted toward you, they should be glad you let them go out in style.
[Not hugging it out is probably a good step right now, as Alucard himself can't tell if he'd allow it or actually go feral. This moment, everything, really, has felt like walking along an impossible piano wire, too thin and too sharp, digging into the soles of his feet.
Gideon's right that her commentary is the best call. A good turn of phrase is apparently enough of a distraction in Alucard's head, and while he takes a beat to try and clear his eyes (pointless, they fill up again), he's still able to get a better laugh out.]
Get her a job at the museum then, maybe that's the best way to make her comfortable. I'll pretend I didn't hear the army comment.
[Also Hector isn't allowed to find out about it either, but Hector's not worth mentioning right now. There's a lot to process, and maybe it's wrong to think about the events as going out in style, but it's better than the crushing guilt that's plagued him for months.
The words thank you are horridly inappropriate here, so Alucard doesn't offer them. Silence, dotted with rain on the roof, fills the air for a few moments before he attempts anything further.]
Perhaps that's the better way to frame it going forward. It's...[A soft snort, before Alucard finally, finally walks back over to sit at the table.] It's been a lot to sit with.
[He still looks damp and hot about the eyes, but the laugh is better, and it relieves some of the building pressure in her to know she's managed to do something right. So she laughs a quick, dry laugh herself, runs her fingers back through her short shock of hair.]
Maybe you're on to something there. And trust me, the day Harrowhark Nonagesimus decides to raise an army is the day we're all well and truly fucked, so pretending not to know she's capable of it is definitely the best plan if we wanna sleep at night.
[Though at this moment Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House, penumbral lady of Drearburh, is refusing to leave their shoddy rented room because there are too many sights and sounds outside. They're in no immediate danger of her necromantic wrath.
There's a moment when silence falls down around them, broken only by the soft patter of rain on the roof - a strange and alien sound to her, but one that isn't entirely unpleasant - and she's just trying to decide whether it's companionable or needs to be filled when he speaks again. She lets out a low breath, her eyes on him, and there's a bitter twist to her expression which suggests something deeper than sympathy.]
Yeah, just sitting with that kind of shit will really eat you up inside. Zero out of ten, would not recommended. It just gets worse if you get all up in your own head about it. I know I deserve to be run through with my own sword for saying anything so cheesy, but a problem shared is a problem halved, right?
[Not that she has a lot of experience in this regard, but the single other heart to heart she'd ever engaged in had lifted something from she and Harrow both.]
It's over and done now. All you can do is move forward from it.
I'm so sick of necromancer armies. [The things he has to say in life. Alucard shakes his head at the sequence of words that leave his lips. The night world and night work mean that it always includes these strange strings of words.] I'm going to just pretend I've heard none of this portion of our conversation.
[Even if Harrowhawk is down for the count and overstimulated, Alucard's sure that one day it'll change. Maybe a museum or library would see her in a better space. He knows that the life of a curator isn't for him, the gift of the Belmont hold and all. Even if he is well suited to the work.]
Thorne's welcome didn't exactly help either. [Depression, murder, and then two and a half months of that shit. Absolutely terrible and another zero out of ten.] But running you through with a weapon for the offense of cheese is hardly worth the effort. You'd probably dodge anyway.
[He has no reason to doubt she'd just stand there. Not with the sword Gideon carries.]
Mmm. Easier said than done. I've found it easier here. Or in the desert.
[She says, making a motion with finger and thumb across the seam of her lips, as though zipping them shut. She's gotta admit, sometimes she's sick of necromantic bullshit herself-- but such is the lot of a necromancer's cavalier.]
And yeah, you're right. Obviously I'd dodge, and you'd just end up slicing up your kitchen in the process, so probably best we just forget all about it. Also right on the easier said than done front-- that's always the kicker, isn't it? Figuring out the how. But it's gotta be better than just sitting with it, you know? You've got to just...pour all that feeling into some kind of action instead.
[Or at least, it's the road she attempted to take for herself. She looks at him though, and shrugs.]
But I don't know shit. Not really. Maybe I'm not the best person to take advice from.
[Alucard lets out a soft laugh in response to the gesture. He's not familiar with it there are no zippers in the 1470s, but he can follow the meaning. At least they can unite in finding necromancy a little too much latel.]
At least repair work is easier in this kitchen versus others, although I try not to think about that too hard. [Fuck the illusion of time and space here! And that eating doesn't actually fill you up.] Mmm. I've found that running around as a wolf only got me so far. The rest is-- [He huffs. An open ended nightmare of a question is what it is.] Beyond words, it seems.
[The thing with Gideon though, and moreover, with her honesty, is that Alucard finds it not only endearing, but reassuring. That he's not being wholly irrational over everything that's happened. Chipping away the guilt means a lot, and this feels like being a less shitty person than the one who sat in Thorne's cells.]
Maybe. But I think I've demonstrated that I'm in the same boat.
[No smile from the dhampir, but there's less tension in him. That counts for a lot, as far as he's concerned.]
[She's dragged a laugh out of him - soft and muted as it may have been - and there's a certain easing of the tension in the room, no longer leaving her with the sense that she could cut the unease with a knife. It'll do, and she slumps forward a little in her chair, elbow resting on the table, chin dropping down into her open palm.]
Well, fuck. Looks like we're stuck figuring out our own problems, doesn't it.
[She huffs out an exaggerated sigh.]
But if I happen to hit upon a wonder cure for the stuff life throws at us, or you know, just figure anything out at all, I'll be sure to let you know. Until then, maybe we can get away with just muddling through. And take some time out from all this heavy shit to laugh at bad taxidermy when it all gets a bit much.
And at least a part of our problems involve necromancers. [His own
sigh is a little more of a joke and absolutely more put upon. Hector's not
really a problem, he just exists in Alucard's bubble when he'd rather that
not be the case. Gideon's charge? That's more time consuming.]
Or perhaps we might take advantage of where we are now and do what I
suspect you've wanted to for the past however long it's been and
exchange a few blows with our swords?
[It occurs to her to ask some questions about his own necromancer problem-- she can't help but be interested, given that she has quite literally given her whole damned life to one of them. But it is an interest that swiftly splinters away in the wake of his mention of swords, a mention that has her straightening from her slump, her eyes taking on a low glitter and her mouth curving into a wolfish grin. Anticipation peals from her in palpable waves.]
[Mostly his own necromancer problem boils down to unwanted hanger
on who has the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair, but the less time
spent on Hector, the better. Besides, the expression on Gideon's face is
absolutely delightful. He might as well change forms and match
wolf to wolf, but that can happen in due time.
However good Gideon is with her weapon, she's not going to expect
floating wolf with sword.
So he stands, careful to tuck his chair back in under the table.]
All in due course. Do you want a clear field or a few strategically
placed boulders and trees?
[He pushes his chair back and she's quickly moving to do the same, wooden legs grinding out an ugly squeal as she scrapes them against the ground. Her hands already itch for the feel of her blade, the weight of it, the cold press of steel, and she's bounding swiftly toward where it leans against the wall the moment she gains her feet. To her, at least, it feels as though the weight of their previous conversation is being stripped away in layers, leaving only the fast-ascending thrill of an oncoming fight in their wake.
She can be fairly one-track minded like that.]
Huh. Good question. Both options have their merits...how about a clear field this first time? We can always liven things up later. You know, once we've got a feel for each other's technique.
[Just run wildly like the happiest golden retriever, Gideon.
Alucard's not actually sure of where he's left his own weapon, so he takes advantage of the same trick from before and summons the blade. There is a new levity in the air though, but the dhampir is sure it is from Gideon's sudden and intense joy at the idea of a sword fight.]
A clear field it is. As for technique, I think you'll find some new challenges.
[The dhampir is pointedly vague, and as they exit the little cottage, the terrain has shifted. What was once a tense line of trees lining the path to the house is now an open field. Grey skies remain, but there is no atmospheric rain present. Alucard has, however, left the grass remain wet to provide a little bit of a challenge for them both. Instinct says they both may enjoy the challenge.]
[With the promise of new challenges spurring her on toward dizzying heights of excitement, Gideon follows after the dhampir and out into the grey, damp space beyond. The colours out here all seem muted, subdued, kinda like a physical manifestation of depression-- but she's accustomed to gloomy surrounds and it does nothing to flatten her current exuberance.
Instead, sword in hands now, she weighs up the question as her footfalls leave dark imprints in the dew.]
In Drearburh we'd usually go with to the floor, which means whoever hits the floor first loses the round. Besides that, anything goes. But hey, I don't mind playing by someone else's rules.
Hitting the floor can always be a feint. [Alucard's observation is dry, but not without a little hint of his own excitement at this. Gideon is trusted, and it feels nice to do this again without worry.]
When the other would be truly dead then, for the given value of what that means here. Sound fair?
[Meaning he's 100% going to turn into bats if he's on the floor.]
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[Mostly he'd like to crawl into a hole and not come out! Which in theory, is perfectly plausible in this place, but there is still a part of Alucard that was raised correctly, thank you that points out that he can be swallowed by the Earth only after guests leave.
There's a crunch of bread under the weight of the serrated knife as Alucard continues to cut through the bread, more needing something to focus on than anything else. The crust wasn't this thick before, was it? Is he actually making this place give him crunchier crust for the sake of filling in the noise.]
Did you impale her corpse on the front lawn afterwards?
[The Alucard version of unloading is, in fact, to ask a very weird question while focusing on food and avoiding all contact, while keeping a conversationally flippant tone. It isn't really a great way of coping, he's aware.]
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There was an impaling involved, but alas, it wasn't her. Harrow and I did finish her off though.
[Or so her necromancer had assured her. She'd been there...in a sense. Abruptly, she shakes her head. Ignores the suddenly very crunchy bread to push on with the crux of their conversation.]
But never mind me. It sounds like she got what was coming to her. I hope all the blood didn't fuck up your front lawn too much.
[Whatever one of those might be.]
So what happened?
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[Somehow, the magic words are there was an impaling involved. It lessens the shame of what Alucard did in the immediate aftermath of an encounter gone terribly, terribly awry, and it's only because he isn't the only person who's used it as a course of action. Doubtlessly the circumstances are difference, but that isn't the point.]
Wouldn't be able to tell you the state of the lawn. I was in that well that Ambrose used before I could make a proper assessment.
[Finally, he turns back around. Alucard forces his eyes to meet Gideon's, although there's no firm emotion in them right now. He's trying for calm, but everything right now is an absolute roller coaster.
Baby steps. And the obvious question:] I have a feeling I know the answer to this one, but does your world have vampires or other blood drinkers?
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I don't know about vampires, but if the hot vampire babes with bangin'...personalities in comics are anything to go by, I wouldn't mind meeting one.
[She starts to smile, but then remembers they're in the midst of what is clearly a serious conversation, and abruptly she clears her throat.]
Some revenants drink blood though, and ghosts are called back to talk to the living with a blood offering, usually. Even some kinds of necromancy involve the consumption of blood...so yeah, I guess it does.
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[Gideon please stay away from Carmilla's castle you're doomed if that happens. ]
I see. [There's a brief nod, because as long as Gideon is familiar with the concept, then he doesn't need to delve into every background detail.] My father was one, and long built a reputation for brutality, impalement, and all other things that go with it. His reputation was earned, and rightly so. My mother was human. [He could go into the details of the relationship, but that's not the point. This is the easy part anyway: the recitation of facts. No emotions are involved with facts.] She was murdered, and rather than simply respond in kind to those directly involved in her death, my father decided to use all his magical abilities, summon hordes of hell to wreck the whole country, had all other vampires of rank come to assist in exterminating humanity, and placed two necromancers in charge of the whole thing. It's the exact thing my mother hated, and to say we disagreed was--
[An understatement, and a painful one at that. He breathes out, forcing himself not to dwell on the argument that followed. Now begins the difficult part.]
I committed patricide. Arguably the correct thing on the whole, especially because my mother would have been furious about the use of her memory to commit unspeakable violence, but that doesn't matter. Then-- [Then Trevor and Sypha's departure. Then the isolation. And then the part where everything gets so much harder.]
Vampires see humans, by and large, as entertaining livestock. For some, that means filling their courts and playing with lives. To wish to destroy that is...I understand the impulse. So when I had two people appear wishing to do that, I let them in. Showed and gained affection in turn, not realizing I was inviting what I just told you. [Just facts, he tells himself again. But no, this is the emotional part. So he thinks it'll be okay, if his gaze turns to the window. His voice wavers, trying to be flippant, even as the emotional cracks seep in. The bread knife is long since abandoned, and Alucard folds his arms over his chest.]
In bed, with two people who I trusted and were the first to show me any kind of romantic affection in the year and change since the nonsense started. They thought me an enemy. Would've managed to kill me if I didn't have that sword trick I showed you earlier, and at that point, there was wisdom in some of my father's past actions and reputation. Impaled the corpses as they were, and then that well.
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She stays silent until he's finished, then stays silent some more. Let's all of that sink in before she whistles low through her teeth.]
So you're saying these two lured you into a menage et trois, letting you think they were into you, all with the intention of killing you in your own fucking bed? Because of something your dad did, even though you were the one to bump him off? Have I got that right? Fuuuuck, that blows.
[She can understand it, the burning hatred one might feel for someone who treats humans - who treats people her - like playthings or livestock. Living the shitty life of a bondswoman, a slave, a thrall-- it's something she knows deep as bones, thick as blood. Something that had fuelled her own heart's black fire for years. But this all sounds just so--]
So underhand. And it wasn't even you, personally, they had beef with?
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[Alucard's not sure what reaction he might've expected. Some form of judgement, yes, that much he anticipated. So the follow ups that Gideon offers instead come with a muted disbelief. (He's still not looking in her direction. The rain's picked up now, gently tapping against the roof. There's worse ambiance out there.)]
Technically, it was me managing to murder him that they were interested in. They had lived in a vampire's court and wanted to learn how to fight other vampires to protect themselves and their people. That part-- [He sighs, swallowing down a lump that's since built up in his throat.] I understood that part. It's why I let them in and tried to help. They just thought I was keeping things from them.
[Which brings them both to the second question.] That should answer the other part as well. [There's a moment that Alucard closes his eyes, and a black, bitter attempt at a laugh bubbles out of him.] I have no idea how you thought I had my life together.
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Cytherea had got what she deserved in the end, and she has precisely zero regrets about that.]
I'm so bloody sorry, Al. That blows. I guess I can see what might have made them vicious and paranoid, but you were trying to help them and didn't fucking deserve it.
[It's how she sees it at least, though fuck if she knows anything at all. She's never claimed to.]
And I don't know. I guess you just seem all cool and aloof and shit. Like you've read some books in your time and might have a clue what's going on. Although I don't think I've ever met someone who totally has got their life together, not really. Admittedly though, I don't know very many people.
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So when Gideon offers at least some understanding about the incident, even up to the point of impaling, it's a genuine surprise. Enough for him to finally turn and look at her, making no attempt to hide the guilt and shame written on his face. There's the threat of tears, but nothing has come of that yet.
A choking sound that might be a laugh manages to squeak out.]
I've read plenty of books, but we're in the same boat of not knowing many people. The only thing I can really say is try not to let your necromancer raise a whole army?
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This isn't the kind of thing they teach you in shadow cults.
He makes that horrible choking sound, somewhere between a laugh and something entirely worse, and she decides then - abruptly - that perhaps the way forward is a stream of ridiculous commentary that might, on the off-chance, amuse him.]
Un-fucking-likely. I mean, don't get me wrong, she could do it. She is absolutely not someone you want to pick a fight with, and I'm talking from experience here. But what she knows about organised battle could fill a whole book...if the book was more of a pamphlet filled with blank pages. I honestly think if she had her way she'd spend the rest of her days in some stuffy old library with her nose in a wretched old tome until she expires and becomes a skeleton herself.
[She smiles a small, sharp smile-- more wry than beaming.]
Look. All I know is, you shouldn't beat yourself up for defending yourself. Even if you did do it in the flashiest way you could think of. After the shitty way they acted toward you, they should be glad you let them go out in style.
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Gideon's right that her commentary is the best call. A good turn of phrase is apparently enough of a distraction in Alucard's head, and while he takes a beat to try and clear his eyes (pointless, they fill up again), he's still able to get a better laugh out.]
Get her a job at the museum then, maybe that's the best way to make her comfortable. I'll pretend I didn't hear the army comment.
[Also Hector isn't allowed to find out about it either, but Hector's not worth mentioning right now. There's a lot to process, and maybe it's wrong to think about the events as going out in style, but it's better than the crushing guilt that's plagued him for months.
The words thank you are horridly inappropriate here, so Alucard doesn't offer them. Silence, dotted with rain on the roof, fills the air for a few moments before he attempts anything further.]
Perhaps that's the better way to frame it going forward. It's...[A soft snort, before Alucard finally, finally walks back over to sit at the table.] It's been a lot to sit with.
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Maybe you're on to something there. And trust me, the day Harrowhark Nonagesimus decides to raise an army is the day we're all well and truly fucked, so pretending not to know she's capable of it is definitely the best plan if we wanna sleep at night.
[Though at this moment Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House, penumbral lady of Drearburh, is refusing to leave their shoddy rented room because there are too many sights and sounds outside. They're in no immediate danger of her necromantic wrath.
There's a moment when silence falls down around them, broken only by the soft patter of rain on the roof - a strange and alien sound to her, but one that isn't entirely unpleasant - and she's just trying to decide whether it's companionable or needs to be filled when he speaks again. She lets out a low breath, her eyes on him, and there's a bitter twist to her expression which suggests something deeper than sympathy.]
Yeah, just sitting with that kind of shit will really eat you up inside. Zero out of ten, would not recommended. It just gets worse if you get all up in your own head about it. I know I deserve to be run through with my own sword for saying anything so cheesy, but a problem shared is a problem halved, right?
[Not that she has a lot of experience in this regard, but the single other heart to heart she'd ever engaged in had lifted something from she and Harrow both.]
It's over and done now. All you can do is move forward from it.
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[Even if Harrowhawk is down for the count and overstimulated, Alucard's sure that one day it'll change. Maybe a museum or library would see her in a better space. He knows that the life of a curator isn't for him, the gift of the Belmont hold and all. Even if he is well suited to the work.]
Thorne's welcome didn't exactly help either. [Depression, murder, and then two and a half months of that shit. Absolutely terrible and another zero out of ten.] But running you through with a weapon for the offense of cheese is hardly worth the effort. You'd probably dodge anyway.
[He has no reason to doubt she'd just stand there. Not with the sword Gideon carries.]
Mmm. Easier said than done. I've found it easier here. Or in the desert.
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[She says, making a motion with finger and thumb across the seam of her lips, as though zipping them shut. She's gotta admit, sometimes she's sick of necromantic bullshit herself-- but such is the lot of a necromancer's cavalier.]
And yeah, you're right. Obviously I'd dodge, and you'd just end up slicing up your kitchen in the process, so probably best we just forget all about it. Also right on the easier said than done front-- that's always the kicker, isn't it? Figuring out the how. But it's gotta be better than just sitting with it, you know? You've got to just...pour all that feeling into some kind of action instead.
[Or at least, it's the road she attempted to take for herself. She looks at him though, and shrugs.]
But I don't know shit. Not really. Maybe I'm not the best person to take advice from.
[And she slants him a long and crooked smile.]
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there are no zippers in the 1470s, but he can follow the meaning. At least they can unite in finding necromancy a little too much latel.]At least repair work is easier in this kitchen versus others, although I try not to think about that too hard. [Fuck the illusion of time and space here! And that eating doesn't actually fill you up.] Mmm. I've found that running around as a wolf only got me so far. The rest is-- [He huffs. An open ended nightmare of a question is what it is.] Beyond words, it seems.
[The thing with Gideon though, and moreover, with her honesty, is that Alucard finds it not only endearing, but reassuring. That he's not being wholly irrational over everything that's happened. Chipping away the guilt means a lot, and this feels like being a less shitty person than the one who sat in Thorne's cells.]
Maybe. But I think I've demonstrated that I'm in the same boat.
[No smile from the dhampir, but there's less tension in him. That counts for a lot, as far as he's concerned.]
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Well, fuck. Looks like we're stuck figuring out our own problems, doesn't it.
[She huffs out an exaggerated sigh.]
But if I happen to hit upon a wonder cure for the stuff life throws at us, or you know, just figure anything out at all, I'll be sure to let you know. Until then, maybe we can get away with just muddling through. And take some time out from all this heavy shit to laugh at bad taxidermy when it all gets a bit much.
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And at least a part of our problems involve necromancers. [His own sigh is a little more of a joke and absolutely more put upon. Hector's not really a problem, he just exists in Alucard's bubble when he'd rather that not be the case. Gideon's charge? That's more time consuming.]
Or perhaps we might take advantage of where we are now and do what I suspect you've wanted to for the past however long it's been and exchange a few blows with our swords?
[Just a hunch here.]
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I was starting to think you'd never ask.
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[Mostly his own necromancer problem boils down to unwanted hanger on who has the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair, but the less time spent on Hector, the better. Besides, the expression on Gideon's face is absolutely delightful. He might as well change forms and match wolf to wolf, but that can happen in due time.
However good Gideon is with her weapon, she's not going to expect floating wolf with sword.
So he stands, careful to tuck his chair back in under the table.] All in due course. Do you want a clear field or a few strategically placed boulders and trees?
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She can be fairly one-track minded like that.]
Huh. Good question. Both options have their merits...how about a clear field this first time? We can always liven things up later. You know, once we've got a feel for each other's technique.
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Alucard's not actually sure of where he's left his own weapon, so he takes advantage of the same trick from before and summons the blade. There is a new levity in the air though, but the dhampir is sure it is from Gideon's sudden and intense joy at the idea of a sword fight.]
A clear field it is. As for technique, I think you'll find some new challenges.
[The dhampir is pointedly vague, and as they exit the little cottage, the terrain has shifted. What was once a tense line of trees lining the path to the house is now an open field. Grey skies remain, but there is no atmospheric rain present. Alucard has, however, left the grass remain wet to provide a little bit of a challenge for them both. Instinct says they both may enjoy the challenge.]
Any particular rules you'd like to lay down?
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Instead, sword in hands now, she weighs up the question as her footfalls leave dark imprints in the dew.]
In Drearburh we'd usually go with to the floor, which means whoever hits the floor first loses the round. Besides that, anything goes. But hey, I don't mind playing by someone else's rules.
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When the other would be truly dead then, for the given value of what that means here. Sound fair?
[Meaning he's 100% going to turn into bats if he's on the floor.]