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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It might be some time before we do. It's likely to be too dangerous there for the Speakers to gather information for a while yet. Power vacuums.

[ 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.

This one seems to perpetuate itself.

[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.]

Ah, right. Shit other than vampires does happen sometimes.

[ 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.]

Yes, with some frequency. Note that I'm refraining from any princeling comments this time.

[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.]

Having spent twenty years listening to bar talk, I can confidently say that non-princelings have no particular impressive knowledge of the state of shit in Hungary.

[ He huffs, but he does come over and sit on the creaky stool, undoing his shirt enough to make accessing the injury easy. ]

They also don't have two idiots with a tendency to get into trouble that are on the road for half a year to worry about.

[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.

[ There's no real arguing with that. Because it has, it absolutely has.

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?

Majorly used names, true or not.

[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.

[ He goes quiet, and if he were literally anyone else it might seem like he's letting Alucard concentrate on the splinters. But he's not someone else, so it's odd.

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. ]

[The wood that comes out is, indeed, nasty. Beyond covered in Trevor's blood, it is much larger than Alucard anticipated, and he can't help but scowl as he puts it down into the sink. It'll be flushed away, but for now it's a grizzly little trophy.]

How cleanly did that wood break, Trevor?

[He's worried. And he's in the wound, fishing for more splinters.]

Clean as I am.

[ 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.

[Alucard does pause so that Trevor can find a place that's more comfortable. Knees are...okay, a bit odd, but better to dig fingers into there than more tender spots.]

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.

Edited 2018-12-09 23:20 (UTC)

Shit. Fine, fine. Get it over with.

[ 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. ]

We're getting there.

[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.

Thank god. If I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have been nice about it.

[ That's a lie. Trevor Belmont is a liar. ]

Stupid fucking kid.

Mm. He went for you while you were sitting outside, after all.

[There's a bandage on Trevor's chest now, being held there to staunch the bleeding and to make sure the flesh heals correctly. This won't be another scar.]

In the middle of the daylight.

Really stupid fucking kid. And too young. Ought to be-

[ Believe it or not, he has a lot of feelings about people being pushed into this line of work before they're old enough. Who could possibly guess why. ]

-what do people even do at that age?

[ Because he was already a full blown disaster. ]

[Alucard pauses. Then looks at Trevor. Then at the kitchen they're in.

And there's a terrible realization.]

I...actually have no idea, I don't think I'm a good sample of the population.

Better sample than I am. I was-

[ He motions to himself. ]

-Already this fucker by that age. That's probably not normal.

Yes, but you've seen the advanced technology I had around me. It wasn't like I was...I don't know...working on a farm?

[Dear God they're both disasters.]

Maybe Sypha knows?

Farm sounds about right. That's what I'll tell him to do, if he comes back.

Or learn a trade. Printing would be good, that's where the future lies.

He can't make a stake. I think that might be a little beyond him.

[ He does up his shirt, because he does actually dress himself sometimes. ]

You said you were making cake. What do you owe Sypha for this time? [ Last time he made cake, it was because he put away a book she wanted to read on a shelf she couldn't reach. ]

[Well the shirt's a shame.]

You might be underestimating the young man.

[But back to the important thing, and that's cake. Which means walking over to the hearth first and checking to see how strong the fire is.]

Nothing. There was an overabundance of berries and the milk's about to spoil. I may as well use the ingredients up.

I did offer to solve the 'too many berries' problem.

[ That's what he calls 'stealing berries' now okay. ]

For tonight?

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