miraclewhip | (for cryptsleeper)

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(for cryptsleeper)

[ He remembers- maybe about half of what happened last night. A little more, perhaps. He remembers the comments that initiated the fight. Vaguely remembers being dragged back to the inn. Remembers throwing cold water on his face to wake himself up to do the terrible fucking job of stitching himself back up that he found himself with this morning (if there was ever a chance to keep that fucking cut from scarring, well, he's gone and botched it).

And he remembers telling the fucking vampire things that he probably should not have told the fucking vampire. He doesn't remember the specifics but he knows that he said too much. More than he's told anyone in a decade maybe. All for the sake of a petty victory that he doesn't even remember if he achieved.

He's uncharacteristically quiet today, even for being as hungover as he is. He forces the almost-solid porridge down his throat when it's pushed in front of him. He drinks half the water that he was using to wash himself last night and pours the other half over his head to wake himself up after maybe an hour of sleep. He only interrupts Sypha's long, long 'discussion' when she stares at him for an indication that he's still awake. It's after that that he's dismissed to the back of the wagon, either because Sypha can't stand his presence right now or because she doesn't trust him not to fall off and end up tangled under its wheels.

(Can't blame her, being tangled up under the wheels of a wagon sounds better than being in his own head right now, even without the throbbing pain.)

He doesn't sleep, mostly because he's been told not to and he is, even more uncharacteristically, on his best behavior right now. The day is mostly uneventful until sometime in the afternoon, when a particularly foolish highwayman sees a wagon driven by a single speaker woman and tries to take advantage of the situation. He's driven off within moments, of course, harmlessly to both them and himself, and the worst that happens is that the horses are startled by Sypha's display and the wagon lurches to one side, knocking Trevor onto his side against the wooden floor. It's only after everything has been confirmed okay, once the horses are calm and they're moving again, that he places a hand to his lower chest. ]

Fuck.

[ It's warm. And damp. He's gone and opened his shitty stitches, hasn't he? ]

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I could just get myself stabbed a few more times. Pretty sure the stress would do you in sooner rather than later.

[For that, there's a flick of Trevor's ear. Because Alucard can't elbow him.]

Don't. That one would actually work.

[ He's not entirely sure how things went from how they were earlier to being this comfortable when they've done nothing but be shits to each other. But it's happened, and it's something of a relief. He doesn't have the energy to be quite that much of a shit all the time. ]

My other conclusion is that you need a fucking hobby. Other than darning my shirt. Especially if more stabbings are off the table, because then it's going to remain intact unless I start ripping it open for your entertainment.

I'm going to buy you another shirt so I don't have to keep repairing one single shirt every time you go and get stabbed. Again. For the hundredth time, probably.

[Alucard's almost certain that Sypha's hearing all of this and is fairly proud that they're only politely tearing into each other.]

I'm not actually sure I'd appreciate the view either, as kind as the offer is.

[ Wait, what? He takes a moment to replay what he just said in his mind to figure out what that was a response to and- oh. Fuck you, vampire. He was offering to rip his shirt off for completely chaste reasons. ]

If you're going to be like that about it, consider the offer off the table.

[ His tone's still warm, but there is just a little more bite behind it now. He's not quite sure whether he's being huffy about Alucard making it weird or about being rejected by someone who has no right thinking he'd even care about being rejected by them. Either way, hmph. ]

So you're going to need to find something else to occupy yourself with.

[Okay, yes, Alucard's the one that made this one weird. He makes a mental note to never do that again, because that bite was not missed from this conversation. And it's been a real, actual conversation, joking death threats and all.]

The only other skill I seem to have is irritating the both of you for very different reasons, and if I ask you for input, I'm going to get a variation of go fuck yourself.

[Said with all the confidence of a man who knows he is 200% correct.]

I've also already counted all the nails used in constructing the wagon, so that's also not possible.

Is that a vampire thing, or do you just like knowing how many nails there are? The counting thing isn't the most common trait.

[ Some old wisdom is true, some isn't. Vampires needing to keep track of exactly how many of everything is around them even at the cost of keeping up with their prey is rare, but shows up enough to not be a coincidence. Probably more of a consequence of the madness brought about by long immortality than a true weakness, had been his sister's opinion, and not something worth relying upon. She'd clashed on it with their father a few times, he'd always sworn by a pouch of rice at his belt.

Because of course Belmont house arguments had always been about vampires. ]

I swear, if we ended up with the one fucking vampire in Wallachia who has to count everything he sees...

Individual compulsion, from what I've seen. I just have nothing better to do.

[There, endless Belmont argument solved. Alucard's interest in the rules of vampirism have only ever extended as far as his own person, for his safety and the sake of his family's.]

No one has any books to read, unless you think reading bottle labels is going to satisfy me.

Not enough books for your taste?

[ He does laugh at that. A lot. Partly because this fucking vampire is a fucking NERD but mostly because- well. Because of where they're going. He's not sure what Alucard or Sypha expect from the Belmont Library but it's almost certainly not what he knows is there. ]

Give it a few more days, then. You're never going to have that problem again.

[ Some of the reading material might even be something other than guides on how to kill you. ]

[The word nerd does not exist, but deep in their hearts there is no better description in this moment. Especially because at Trevor's laugh, Alucard just looks mildly annoyed. He likes books, Belmont! Let him have quiet hobbies!]

This is a question I'll regret having the answer to, but are there any that aren't about vampires, or am I going to spend a lifetime having to edit every single tome in there?

[And by edit he means change the information so it's even more incorrect.]

You'll be able to find something, I'm sure. If nothing else, you're not the only thing we've hunted. Just the nastiest.

[ And he huffs again, still amused this time. ]

And you don't have a lifetime. You'll have time to vandalize one shelf, at most.

[It's hard not to cringe at the nastiest comment, even though his father has proven it far too true. If not a million times over before, then now, in the worst possible way.]

I'll write fast. Two shelves, two and a half if I'm especially good.

Take three, if you want. You still wouldn't be even close to a hundredth of the collection. [ And then, a little more solemn. ] Even if you destroyed the whole place - there'll be nobody left to read it after this.

[ Dracula gone, and the last of the Belmont line gone, and that sounds about right, doesn't it? ]

Mm, how many years is it built up over?

[This is not a book measuring contest, except it absolutely is. Trevor's right about the fact that no one else will enter the Hold after they're done though. Alucard sobers up at the thought. There's a lot of things he's considered in his plan to deal with his father, and one or two parts are...they're new. And embarrassing to say out loud, so he gestures to Sypha without a word.

Trevor's probably thought about it anyway. If there's a chance any of them can get out, it should be her.]

Four centuries, give or take. Two or three Belmonts a generation dedicated to bringing knowledge back. Anyone who didn't take up the whip took up the pen instead. Family of fucking librarians as much as we ever were hunters.

[ There are now two conversations happening - one in words, another in gestures. He nods, looking back at Sypha.

She survives. If there's any way to achieve it while still destroying Dracula, she has to survive this. Alucard- maybe Alucard is something that should have never been. And he's been looking for a way to die for a long time, now. Sypha deserves to live. ]

Maybe that's the better book to read then, if there are any. Having to have an actual system of organization known beyond just one person is something worth studying.

[They're in agreement. Good. Alucard closes his eyes and shakes his head yes once to acknowledge Trevor's response. They're going to get resistance on the topic if it ever, ever comes up before the final moment where they have to tell her to get out, now, but they're not idiots. It isn't going to come up. Maybe that's unfair to Sypha, but there's much more to her life beyond them. They're both orphans (okay, soon-to-be for one of them), both about to do something that's suicidal, and there's only going to be one person to mourn. Much more fair than vice versa to the rest of the Speakers.]

Four centuries - thirty or forty people's life's work, and you want to read the index.

[ That gets a laugh out of him, despite the grim subject of their silent second conversation. ]

You're sure you don't suffer from the counting thing? I'm going to toss rice at you next time you try to keep me away from the bottle.

If the index was something committed to memory, you'd-- [It's a good pivot. Alucard groans in that well played way, and this time Trevor gets a soft elbow to the shoulder for the comment.]

Throw away precious rations at me, yes Belmont. A highly advisable idea. [Speaking of good ideas.] Where did you get all those bottles from anyway?

The church. Back at Gresit.

[ No sense keeping quiet about it, the only reason he wasn't talking about it in detail when Alucard asked about them before was a sour mood. ]

The place was abandoned when we left. Looks like the horde managed to get in there.

[ And so he stole the wine. Because of course he did. Laugh away, you fucking vampire. ]

[There's a moment of quiet as Alucard buries his face in his hands, and just laughs. None of this is an actual surprise, the joke is on him for not figuring this out much sooner.]

That is the pettiest thing I've ever heard.

[And here he is laughing about it. Because what a good summary of Trevor Belmont.]

Fuck off, or I'll throw it at you.

[ Even if Holy Water isn't too much of a problem, the blood of Jesus of Fucking Nazareth probably is. ]

It's for the whip.

[ And- well. For emergencies. He still doesn't know if Alucard needs to feed. If he has to volunteer (because Sypha will Not Be Doing This), he'd rather be able to cleanse himself afterwards. ]

You'll tear your side open, and it will not be worth an even pettier victory.

[It is a real problem. But there's actually a bigger question:] Is it actually blessed though, or is the stuff pre-transubstantiated?

[If it's just wine, then really there's no danger at all. Better to get that out of the way. And any discussion of the more vampiric part of Alucard's diet would only be met with a dead stare, because Belmont blood probably just takes like alcohol anyway. No nutritional value.]

Blessed, not transubstantiated yet. Needs water for that. A few readings.

[ It's probably extremely blasphemous for anyone who isn't ordained to try to perform any part of the liturgical rites, let alone an excommunicant. But hey, he's already as damned as he's going to get. ]

Shouldn't fucking work. Not for me. But either you were faking it very well or it's enough to keep the whip consecrated.

No. None of my reactions to that thing were false. It would have taken too much effort to fake anything in that fight, Belmont.

[Congratulations, Trevor. Your booze stash is Alucard-proof.]

I thought as much. I don't think you've told a lie in your fucking life.

[ Another of his conclusions. He's not sure if he's listing them out as a weird power play any more, but he's not yet willing to acknowledge that he's trying to demonstrate to Alucard that he does, in fact give a shit.

And it's not a booze stash, gosh!!!!!!!!!!! He's a professional. ]

Not a vampire thing. Just a you thing.

(for cryptsleeper)

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Turning in for the night after this one, just so you know!

Have a great night my dude!

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