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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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.

Hm. [Alucard shakes his head slowly at that, because Trevor's right, but is he right for the correct reasons?] Lying to my parents was never successful, so I saw little point in the attempt.

[You try lying to Dracula, okay? It doesn't work. Ever.

IS IT NOT TREVOR?]

Here I thought you were just too honest for your own good.

[ He laughs. ]

Turns out you just can't be arsed learning a new skill.

That's a much more generous interpretation than I expected from you. The first part, at least.

[Either way, there's an eyeroll that Trevor may or may not see, depending on the angle he's at.]

It wasn't a skill I needed to have, and there were more important things at the time.

Well, you have time now. And you've run out of nails to count. May as well spend the next few days practicing.

[ And it's time to get revenge for that 'I don't care' Trevor impression from earlier. ]

'I'm NOT a pompous, dramatic piece of shit. And I mind my own fucking business and let my friends drink whatever the fuck they please.' That kind of thing

Oh yes, because I'm going to use this skill so much for the remainder of my life.

[There's some offense in that remark (mostly because Alucard resembles it), but otherwise he just takes it. On bad impressions, fair is absolutely fair.]

That's too big a lie to start with. Smaller and more believable.

You're going to get more use out of it than out of how many nails are in this thing.

[ You know what? It's time for more revenge. ]

'I absolutely would appreciate the view.'

I'm not certain I agree but and--

[No. He already made it weird with that. Trevor doesn't get revenge for it too.]

Ugh. Would you settle for all of it are going to get out of this alive?

Good. I like that one.

[ He looks back for a second, at Sypha tugging at the reins of the horses. Probably still fuming at the both of them. ]

Say it again. Louder. So she can hear it.

Right now if I say it loudly it'll just sound like sarcasm. Or that we're still bickering.

[The best thing would be to stop at the night, and for Sypha to see the actual miracle of two stubborn idiots not tearing each other apart.]

Later tonight.

I suppose now I have to trust that that one was the truth.

[ It is. He knows it is. He sighs, looking upward. ]

What are your conclusions, then? I don't doubt you've been respecting my privacy more than I have yours [ Because really if he didn't have a damn good reason for keeping a close eye on Alucard, Trevor would be a fucking stalker. ], but you must have some.

Unlike you, I actually think about how things sound before I say them.

[With one or two exceptions, as already experienced.

Alucard shifts a little bit, readjusting his position, recrossing his legs, stretching out just a little bit more. He's stiff, his legs are asleep, and his hands feel too idle now. It buys him a few moments to formulate an answer.]

Beyond the fact that I noticed your endless observations mean that we'll at least be able to do some real damage? [Trevor you are not going to like this.] You've spent too much time alone, and that means no one earns trust unless they demonstrate they're worthy of it time and again. You don't stay in one place for very long, so it's impossible for you to ever rely on anyone but yourself. But you want it that way, because your self-reliance is a comfort. Makes everything else easier. And you're only tolerating this because, as you've already demonstrated, you're fine with dying. This enterprise is just different than how you expected it to go.

[ He listens. And he opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. ]

About right. The plan was drowning in a ditch somewhere. This shit- this shit at least might mean something. Tie up loose ends. Maybe- maybe undo the whole excommunication thing.

[ He doesn't give a shit where he goes, but his family deserve to be able to move on and rest in peace. And as long as all of them are excommunicated, they can't. ]

No conclusions about how you'd kill me yet? Or would you just leave me unattended to do it myself?

Seems to me like you were exceedingly good at avoiding ditches, given you hadn't found one before you met Sypha. Not on purpose, but some deeper sense of self preservation.

[He had survival instincts drilled into him as a child is what Alucard's saying. Something just isn't allowing for death yet.]

And in spite of all of my own self-preservation instincts, Belmont, I have no particular desire to actually make that happen. So I haven't bothered to think about it.

Just got unlucky. Always landed in them face-up.

[ Of all the things to get defensive about, that's the one he picks. Alucard's right. He's really, really bad at dying. ]

Well shit. Now I look like a dick, don't I?

Like a cat, I think.

[The more Alucard considers the comparison, the more accurate it feels. Not just because of Trevor's personality, but because of what circumstances have resulted in. It's like dealing with a feral.]

You've already done a fine job of doing that, this is barely a drop in the bucket.

(for cryptsleeper)

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