(for cryptsleeper)

[miraclewhip]

[ 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? ]

Comments

[cryptsleeper]

[That scar is Never to Be Touched. It nearly sundered everything. Better for it to be unacknowledged. Forgotten, as close as a scar can be. The only pride in it is how small it's become, how well it healed. A testament to skill, or else a blessing for three years of faith in each other.]

Dog whisperer. [He says it fondly. For all of this, he still got a few minutes with her. That part made up for a small portion of this.] Of course.

[miraclewhip]

She was shitty at first aid. Just told me to stop bleeding, like it was my fault. And told me that if anyone found out and the dog got in trouble, she'd turn my skin green.

[ She'd always been strange. ]

Never did find out if she actually could do that.

[cryptsleeper]

Well, you didn't give her reason enough to find out. That's...that counts for something. Not sure what though.

[miraclewhip]

She tried to get me out of training for the next week, at least. Told everyone she needed an extra pair of hands in the archives. The picture of a fat dragon in the index? That was me. From back then.

[ This is stupid, it really is. But he's chuckling as he says it. It's good, maybe, to have a moment of levity before this resumes proper and things become dark again. ]

[cryptsleeper]

That's not a dragon. That's a very concerning eleph...[Alucard shakes his head, laughing at that.]

You and Sypha should do woodcuts together and illustrate an entire book.

[miraclewhip]

It's a very fat dragon, okay?

[ Hmph. He feigns indignation for a few seconds before meeting Alucard's eyes. ]

Are you ready, or should we complain about my drawing skills a little more?

[cryptsleeper]

Please. They're still not Sypha's stick figures.

[But he takes the point. And nods.]

[miraclewhip]

I have so much to aspire to.

[ Softly, he brings a hand to Alucard's face, striking down it softly. He doesn't remember needing to treat any injuries there, but he saw the mess that she left of her forgemaster's, and how she'd painted his sister with rouge. She liked making things either prettier or uglier. ]

[cryptsleeper]

[It takes a moment for Alucard to realize that the hand on his cheek (it's so tender, god) is the next question, not the gesture for the sake of it. All the same, to have it fall away is a disappointment.]

Never anything there, save for my own blood.

[miraclewhip]

[ He nods, and leans forward to kiss it anyway. Even if there's nothing to chase away, there's a sort of ritual to it now. Touch first, then words, then a kiss or another touch to mark the end of the recollection. So he doesn't have to remember for longer than he needs to. ]

'f you run out of scars, just do what I'm doing and fucking guess. I'll tell you what I can.

[cryptsleeper]

[It is a good ritual. More comforting than Trevor intended perhaps, given how much the dhampir is touch reliant when it comes to the other two. It works.]

Mm. Take the do-over, since it is early.

[miraclewhip]

If you're sure-

[ He half considers the hair again, but no. That didn't end well last time. He's not going to go for something he knows is terrible when he's already bending the rules to begin with. (The rules are there for a reason, even if he can't quite put that reason into words. It makes this fairer. Less about forcing Alucard to relive everything.)

He puts his hand on Alucard's chest. ]

Pretty sure I already know about the big fucker. [ That is to say, the scar that Dracula left. He can talk about it if he wants to (Dracula was there, after all, in that nightmare) but if it's not relevant, there's not much point. ]

[cryptsleeper]

Mm.

[The hair is cheating. Dreams took care of that, he's muttered about it before the hair is done and closed.

So the chest it is instead. And he almost laughs because leave it to Trevor to just call that the big fucker. But he takes Trevor's hand in his and traces down the scar's outline, because there's something important in it.]

Notice how the mark misses the vital organs? Heart? Lungs would have been hit, but not as badly?

[It was a controlled strike.]

[miraclewhip]

[ He follows the scar with his fingertips. He's never done that before. Alucard and Sypha- both of them try to kiss his scars, trace over them as if they could replace the rough skin with the perfect softness of their hands. He isn't quite so sentimental, or quite so certain of his own ability to make things better. He doesn't actively avoid the scar anymore, but he doesn't pay it that much attention either. It's not his business, and under normal circumstances he likes to think he's good at minding his own business.

But this is not a time for minding his own business. This is actually kind of the opposite of that. So he focuses on the texture of it, on the discoloration of the skin, of the sole imperfect part of half of the best fucking thing that ever happened to him.

And he observes, because he is good at observing. In the same way he recounted the way Alucard slept so long ago, he says what he sees. ]

Would have just missed the vein here. [ As his fingers trace over where it begins, at the collarbone. ] Nicked it further down, on its way past the heart. Fatal to a human, wouldn't expect it to do a vampire in. Hell of a lot of blood. Ribs would have taken the brunt of it here. [ Lower, where the scar is at its widest. ] Probably more damage from the ribs being cut clean through and going into the lungs than from the cut itself. Misses the stomach, too.

[ Was he faking it that time he confused livers and ovaries just to be obstinate and to fuck with Alucard and Sypha? All signs point to 'yes'. ]

[cryptsleeper]

[So someone does understand anatomy. Cheeky fucker.

But Alucard nods as Trevor repeats the diagnosis, because it's all correct. It's the scar that sits easiest for the exact reasons Trevor's outlined. It was a thing of brutal rage (shared rage, of course), but of some acknowledgement that it was still his son that was being attacked. A contradictory thing, a heavy thing to bare for one's life, but thinking of it as Alucard had long decided to do? That made the scar easier.

It's why he never flinched when the other two brushed against it. Beyond the fact it was rather hard to avoid, the emotions associated with it were long since dulled.]

There was some sense in there, still. Cold comfort, of course, but it allowed enough time to retreat.

[miraclewhip]

[ Mathias Cronqvist was a master of the sciences. He knew the secrets of how to bring a man to his knees, paint the ground with blood, make enough of a show to terrify an army into surrender, all without ever robbing a family of a father or husband.

He kisses the top of the scar at the collarbone, where it's visible above the neck of Alucard's shirt, then sits back and waits for Alucard to take his turn. ]

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard's not sure what else is left. Trevor's eye is off limits because he had made that determination long ago. He doesn't want to look at it and see just another horrible story, another reminder of how the world's treated Trevor. Better ignorance than to look upon that face with anything else than the purest adoration.

There's one on Trevor's knee that has always looked strange though. Like skin was removed and then healed back in place. His hands go there.]

This one's always looked weirder than the others.

[miraclewhip]

Oh, that one's just stupid. Must've fallen down or something when I was drunk, because I wake up one morning and I've bandaged it. But it doesn't stop fucking hurting, and there's this lump there.

[ Honesty, Alucard could ask about the eye. It wouldn't be pleasant, but it was maybe the least shitty part of it. He'd gouge both of them out to undo anything else that happened that night. Trevor's taken note of the lack of questions about it. ]

I left it- maybe a month or two. But after a while I decided it was annoying and cut it open. Bunch of nasty shit comes out, and a couple little rocks. No idea how the fuck that happened.

[ Aka 'Trevor you fuck you need to clean things or at least get the bits of stone and dirt out of them before dressing them'. ]

[cryptsleeper]

...You didn't wash the wound out.

[He says it with the utmost exasperation. Trevor was right! It was stupid!!! And Alucard smacks the spot very lightly for the stupidity of it.]

I also wish I was surprised.

[miraclewhip]

Of course I didn't wash it out. I probably just fell over, it wasn't a bite.

[ Trevor you need to wash things for reasons other than avoiding turning. ]

[cryptsleeper]

[There are no words. Just a groan. A very long one.]

[miraclewhip]

[ Trevor just pokes his forehead. More roughly than anything he's done as part of this. It's still fond, only play-annoyed. ]

That's not my choice, just what you get for being such a shit.

[cryptsleeper]

Your soap allergy could have lead to an absolutely disgusting infection and loss of your entire leg!

[WHY ARE YOU A SMELLY POSSUM TREVOR BELMONT.]

Smartest thing you ever did was let me near that stab wound.

[miraclewhip]

Legs grow back.

[ Trevor you literally just gave an entire speech demonstrating that you actually know your shit wrt anatomy you are fooling nobody right now. ]

Smartest thing I ever did was having you near me at all.

[cryptsleeper]

You know damned well that they do not.

[But at least that catches Alucard off guard, enough to stop the train to Stupid Argument Town in the midst of what's supposed to be far more serious a discussion.

There's just a smile on his face. Small and warm and bright because that's probably the best version of I love you Trevor's managed in three years. And maybe he's a little blushfaced for it, but it's hard to tell on pale cheeks.]