Trevor 'The Bear Situation' Belmont (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
miraclewhip) wrote2018-11-23 08:39 pm
miraclewhip) wrote2018-11-23 08:39 pm
Entry tags:
(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? ]
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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It is so very peaceful. A far cry from just a few months ago, when everything was blood and summer sweat, horrors fresh and raw. Things are scabbing over now, and that is the best thing to be said for the time being. All else, all else needs time.
He returns with a bag slung over his back (early apples and pears), along with two baskets (one dedicated just to the remaining blackberries of the season). There's never not a touch of comedy to this, he knows it well, but it's apparently endearing too. Happier moments. With so many more to come.
Being halfway up the road to the castle (to home), he can see another on the lawn. Trevor and someone much smaller. A frown crosses his lips, but there's no immediate action taken. Trevor's calm, so he should be fine.
And then as he comes up the path and actually listens, he sighs. Another one, huh? This one too tender in years.]
What, precisely, have I missed this time around?
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[ This is not the first time that this has happened. First time they've been so young. First time he'd found himself wondering if they will actually come back instead of running off either terrified or relieved to hear about Carmilla's death. Also the first time they've tried to stake him. ]
This one might even come back.
[ He doesn't even mention why he'd holding a bloody cleaning cloth against his chest, because honestly that should be kind of obvious by now. Getting stabbed is what he does. ]
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[Alucard sighs at that, pausing to put both baskets down on the ground along with the bag slung over his back. Things like this, it's why the castle moved. A truth Alucard always knew, he remembers the nights as a child that the world around them changed just as something bright glowed in the distance, but being the one in charge is so very different.]
I trust you didn't give him too much advice on how to improve on stabbing you.
[He's next to Trevor now, waiting for the cloth to move.]
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[ He removes the cloth. The cut isn't too deep, a thin point on a fragile stake that broke away as soon as it found resistance greater than skin. He had a point about the shitty wood. There's more risk from infection from the splinters than there is of bleeding out from the cut, it's just about stopped already. ]
Didn't even make it to the sternum, certainly wouldn't have managed to do any damage to it. You don't use rotten wood for a stake, god.
[ Why does nobody care about proper vampire staking technique??????? ]
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[Immediately there's a dhampir peering at the cut, tsking softly as fingers probe around the cut. He flinches though, because there are absolutely splinters in there.]
No, you don't use rotten wood. There's a few slivers that I'm going to need tweezers to get out. [So, sorry Trevor.]
Better to do it while this is still fresh too. Beyond risk of infection, it'll hurt more if we wait.
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[ Alucard is fussing. Of course he is, it's what he does. Trevor uses the opportunity to steal a handful of blackberries, because that's what he does. ]
Ugh, really? Really? [ He tosses a blackberry into his mouth. ] I hate those things. You know I hate those things.
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[Because to not do that is to repeat past mistakes. This thing this...territorial control, the fear of vampires in the area that his father had. It's something Alucard does not want. But to not have it is a far scarier thing, one that nearly cost all three of them everything.
So it must be as it was. In a new way, of course.]
I know you hate them, and I hate when you get stabbed and stop eating those they are for cake!
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[ Any more.
Trevor's attention is now on the blackberries in his hand as he tries to decide between blackberries now and cake later. He returns most of them, only eating one more just to make a show of being defiant. ]
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I know, I know.
[The words are more to himself than to Trevor. For all the troubles, there's an apple offered instead.]
Let me go inside and get the tweezers.
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[ Peace offering accepted. He takes a bite of the apple as they head back toward the castle. ]
Things are starting to settle down again. When Sypha's caravan next comes through here with news, I'll work on a new list of active vampires. The last one is two decades out of date, and I can't imagine that it'd be accurate after everything that's happened.
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There is still a part of Alucard that finds the discussion of vampire hunting...uncomfortable. The same way the Hold is still uncomfortable, because he remembers that little skull. He's never articulated it, and after everything tat's happened to them, it's also hard to argue against putting a few out of their misery.]
Probably not. None of us have a full picture of what's truly happened in Styria. Still.
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[ Not for the first time, he finds himself wondering if it would have been best to push Alucard into the role of his father's successor. Dracula's influence had been, without a doubt, a stabilizing force. Replacing it with the same stability but less cruelty would have been a blessing.
But it would have been unfair. It would have been so terribly unfair, more so than any of this is. Even mentioning it would be unfair, because that would force him to come up with an answer, and either answer would turn Alucard into someone he oughtn't be. ]
They've been meeting refugees, though, on the road. If that stops, we'll know things have improved. If it continues, hopefully they'll find someone who knows the whole story before long.
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[Alucard says the words with a little too much grimness as they move forward. They've both thought about this. Just never talked it over, not in any real way. He's en route to the kitchen, not just to drop off all of the food but because he's learned to put a kit there of basics. Needle and thread for stitches, bandages, tweezers, all of the requirements for Stupid Things Done either while repairing the castle or just dealing with unwelcome guests.]
If anyone cares to recall the whole story. I'm sure that the brunt of the refugees are with the Hungarians. Bulkwark against Ottoman aggression, since things here have been going swimmingly.
[There. There's the kit. Alucard takes a small leather satchel off a hook near the sink.]
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[ He forgets that. All the Belmonts did. Maybe they'd have realized just how far out of the church's favour they'd fallen before it was too late if they hadn't.
He pulls a face at the kit. Ugh, the tweezers.]
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[He should not be that proud or smug. Not when he's walking over to the sink and motioning for Trevor to come over so that any required scrubbing can be done in one spot.]
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[ He huffs, but he does come over and sit on the creaky stool, undoing his shirt enough to make accessing the injury easy. ]
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[The soap's first. Because of course it is, the matter cannot be escaped. Alucard's softer with scrubbing than normal, mostly as an apology for how bad this will be soon.]
And it's helped us immensely.
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There is, however, arguing with the soap. Alucard is being more gentle with it than usual, but the shit still stings. ]
The name- that's all you need to find them? Is it - fuck, careful - is it some 'true name' shit, or just whatever they go by?
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[The soap's put aside. Alucard doesn't even have to look behind him to grab the tweezers, he just pulls them out and starts to focus on the work. One sliver, ugh. That's a nasty one.]
Or just what they look like, I've found that will work too.
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Whatever thoughts he'd sunk into, though, are interrupted by the awful, awful sensation of tweezers poking around inside the wound like tiny, bony, cold fingers pinching under his skin. A hand grabs onto Alucard's coat for something to hold onto, and he makes a choked sort of growling sound when the sliver of wood finally comes free. ]
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How cleanly did that wood break, Trevor?
[He's worried. And he's in the wound, fishing for more splinters.]
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[ Which means it basically shattered. He's speaking through gritted teeth now. For being so very willing to go around getting hurt, he's really bad at dealing with being patched up. ]
Fuck, fuck. Let me-
[ And he lets go of the coat, feeling around for Alucard's knee instead and relaxing when his hand falls upon it. ] -okay, ready.
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You bathed two days ago, so that's a terrible standard for once.
[He says it warmly, because he can at least try to be reassuring before the tweezers plunge into Trevor again. The next sliver is about the same size, and Alucard discards it immediately.]
I felt one more large one in there.
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[ He should probably be less short with Alucard - he genuinely is doing his best to make this not suck. But even after three years of it, letting Alucard patch him up is still- just a little fraught. A mess of not having a lot of patience for the parts of this that he doesn't understand, of not liking that stupid worried look, of still not quite being worth this much effort. And also it fucking hurts. There's also that. ]
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[To Alucard's credit, he's never begrudged the snappiness when it comes to actual medical work. It hurts. He knows it, and he's the source of the temporary issue. But for that, it all rolls off his back and it rolls off very easily.
One more piece of wood. Two smaller bits. And then four extra thin pieces. They're put aside, and Alucard places the tweezers down.]
There, now that's done.
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