[ He is still. Consumed by purpose, in the same way he was when profaning the wine, the same way he was when he first set food on land again, the same his sister was as she walked toward the old bedroom. The same way he was when he first fled his home, so many years ago now. He has something to channel all of this into, and the shaking can begin later.
'Negotiate', he had said. There is no negotiation. There are demands, and there are consequences for those demands not being met. ]
The vampire Carmilla is dead.
[ He pauses for a moment, waiting to see the fallout of that. There is some- the noises stop. A few of the soldiers look ready to turn upon each other. ]
The Hold will be opened. Those of you who wish to leave will leave one at a time, and then you will flee Belmont lands and not return. Those who still wish to fight may do so, one at a time. [ His hand falls to the Morning Star as he says that. Flames gather between Sypha's fingers. ] You will take nothing. You will give your word to take anything you have learned to your graves, else you will lose your tongue and hands to keep you from telling secrets. At dusk, we will open the hold once more for those who cannot leave by day.
The executions of those who remain will begin at dawn tomorrow.
[ And he nods to Alucard to signal that he is done. Once the mirror is off, his shoulders sink. He lets out a breath. When he breathes in, he just looks tired. ]
Fucking Belmonts, always die in this fucking castle. [ He says, and there's no conviction behind it but he's at least present enough for an attempt at self-deprecation. ] Once this is done-
[ -A lot of things will happen once this is done. He'll decide whether to place her in the family crypt where this will never happen again or to bury her where she was, in the ruins of the house, with her lover and her dogs. He'll mourn. He'll see if her notebooks have survived in the hold, because those are her more than any bones ever were. And then everything else that ought already happen after this. The healing. The rebuilding.
Once this is done. All of it, once this is done. ]
One prisoner remains. Human, in your father's livery. The forgemaster, we believe. He is- [ Ill and injured and sick. A monster, for all he has done. A coward who chose this over death. As much a prisoner as anyone else in those cells. ] -fucking pathetic.
no subject
'Negotiate', he had said. There is no negotiation. There are demands, and there are consequences for those demands not being met. ]
The vampire Carmilla is dead.
[ He pauses for a moment, waiting to see the fallout of that. There is some- the noises stop. A few of the soldiers look ready to turn upon each other. ]
The Hold will be opened. Those of you who wish to leave will leave one at a time, and then you will flee Belmont lands and not return. Those who still wish to fight may do so, one at a time. [ His hand falls to the Morning Star as he says that. Flames gather between Sypha's fingers. ] You will take nothing. You will give your word to take anything you have learned to your graves, else you will lose your tongue and hands to keep you from telling secrets. At dusk, we will open the hold once more for those who cannot leave by day.
The executions of those who remain will begin at dawn tomorrow.
[ And he nods to Alucard to signal that he is done. Once the mirror is off, his shoulders sink. He lets out a breath. When he breathes in, he just looks tired. ]
Fucking Belmonts, always die in this fucking castle. [ He says, and there's no conviction behind it but he's at least present enough for an attempt at self-deprecation. ] Once this is done-
[ -A lot of things will happen once this is done. He'll decide whether to place her in the family crypt where this will never happen again or to bury her where she was, in the ruins of the house, with her lover and her dogs. He'll mourn. He'll see if her notebooks have survived in the hold, because those are her more than any bones ever were. And then everything else that ought already happen after this. The healing. The rebuilding.
Once this is done. All of it, once this is done. ]
One prisoner remains. Human, in your father's livery. The forgemaster, we believe. He is- [ Ill and injured and sick. A monster, for all he has done. A coward who chose this over death. As much a prisoner as anyone else in those cells. ] -fucking pathetic.