miraclewhip | (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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[Alucard frowns. But he nods, because that gives them all time to prepare.]

It'll be five days there and back.

[His eyes are still on the journals. Still reading. He reaches over to turn another page, squints, then closes his eyes. A single finger taps the page.

That mother fucker. What a tool.]

There. That's who we're looking for, unless I misread Leon's handwriting.

The horse will take longer to tire without the wagon. I should be able to do it in four.

[ Assuming he doesn't need to sleep that much. ]

With luck- with luck he's still a rock, and all of this is for nothing.

Grab the journal, the Hold's mirror is over this way.

[There's no chiding about sleep. Which means Alucard's in a genuine panic. He's practically running to the mirror.]

[ He takes the journal, following Alucard as he reads through it. Old French. No attempts to write in code, even the enchantments to hide the ink and the silver were added after Leon's death.

He was the most dignified of the Belmonts, but that was maybe his stupid, stupid Belmont quirk. Too trusting, too honest, after everything. ]

Tall, red hair, ...does it help to know that he wore skulls on his knees?

He wore what on his wh... [Alucard sighs.] Vampires.

[All a bunch of drama queens. Alucard's at the mirror, looking from journal to reflection. Closing his eyes. Trying to reach out. France. He doesn't know what it looks like. Nothing.

That face again. A flicker.

Nothing.

He tries again. A small rock with an essence of that face.

YES!

But the rock is shown to be resting on a shelf. Protected in a small glass case. Alucard opens his eyes, then frowns deeply at what's before him.]

Collected.

Shit. Shit.

[ He lets the journal slide out of his hands and fall to the floor. Someone has it. The stupid fucking rock that started all of this, and someone has it. He can feel his mouth making a smart retort about his being saved four days' worth of riding-arse, but he can't hear the words coming out.

Instead, he just raises a hand to place it against Alucard's arm. ]

I should have checked. I should have checked the second he died. I'm sorry.

We've caught this in due time.

[Alucard doesn't move Trevor's hand from his arm. But he is so very still, and so very, very angry.]

And we ensure that whatever is being planned does not come to pass. That much is a simple task.

[ That that thing has been found- it's terrible in its own right, for all kinds of reasons. But it also means that someone has been digging through the ashes of Alucard's second childhood home.

He trails his hand down Alucard's arm to find another hand, and closes his around it. Not holding it, but enclosing it so that it can be curled into a fist and yet hidden from the world.

Be as furious as you need, and I will be here. To keep you from becoming something worse than you are. ]

Go there regardless. Take Sypha with you, see if there's any evidence that can help us narrow down who might be responsible. I can work from this list to narrow down who's likely to be old enough to know of this legend and who witnessed Carmilla's defeat.

[The fist in Trevor's hand is there, but it seeks out that warm comfort. Anger is so easy, outrage over someone fucking around in those ruins is horrifying but. But they live over the ruins of Trevor's home. The fury isn't unique to himself.

There's such a thin smile on Alucard's face as he turns to Trevor.]

We are not struggling against a plan that is in full swing. Small comfort as it is, we must find refuge in that fact.

Five days it is, then. If anything does show up, I'm not sure I want her to be trying to aim her spells on a few ours of sleep while I'm in the melee.

[ And also all of them are ridiculous for holding themselves to much higher standards than they'd ever hold each other to. Sypha gets to sleep. ]

Mm. Be cautious with who sees the spells, please. A pettier man might wish to point out the difference between science and magic, but safety prevails over all.

Keep Sypha from making too much of a scene, understood.

[ He laughs, just a little, not quite meaning it but needing to express all of this somehow. ]

And I thought it was her who was meant to keep me out of trouble.

[Alucard laughs too. It's thin and fragile, but it's so much better than terrible tension.]

You two seem to restrain each other on the road as much as you enable. I expect a return to form, if anything.

[ He lets go of Alucard's fist at that laugh, instead nudging the fingers until he's willing to relent and open them so he can hold the vampire's hand properly. ]

We'll be in Lupu at the third day. Don't look for us then.

[ There's no reason Alucard should have to watch them combing the ashes for clues. ]

Sypha will know, if you do. She can feel the mirrors by now. We'll give you hell about it once we're back

[The nudge finds fingers that unfold all too willingly. It's ridiculous, this, standing around talking strategy and tragedy, hand in hand. Alucard's hands are slightly rougher these days, but are still nothing compared to Trevor's.]

I understand. I'll wait until the evening of the fourth day to be certain.

[Thank you.]

[ It probably should feel sillier than it does. But Trevor is a Belmont. And Belmonts talk of strategy and tragedy with every breath, and being together is how they survive it. His eldest sister would talk about battle plans while bouncing her son on her lap. Enid would perfect her warding spells with her notebook resting on top of the dog in her lap. There's no dissonance here for Trevor. This is just what family is.

He laces his fingers through Alucard's, feeling every callus. Here he didn't even think that that could happen to a vampire. But then- the things in the hold aren't exactly normal things for a vampire to be exposed to. ]

You don't have a princeling's hands anymore.

And that is a word I thought you had hung up some time ago.

[To not have that experience was the privilege of upbringing for some time. It wasn't as if Alucard grew up ignorant of what he was or what issues awaited him in the future (there had been too many questions about his very tender first days up to including sunlight, yes or no?), but the need for constant strategy wasn't there. That was what his father did, and he did it out of earshot until Alucard was old enough to engage with it all as an adult.

His eyes go to the list for a moment. They should get back to work. But then Alucard's eyes go back to the hand in his, and he leans over to kiss Trevor's cheek instead.]

(for cryptsleeper)

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