Trevor 'The Bear Situation' Belmont (
miraclewhip) wrote2018-11-23 08:39 pm
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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? ]
no subject
[Alucard treating it as a totally serious thing doesn't help the badmouthing urge either. His mother didn't want him overly exposed to other vampires as a child, and thus even as an adult, such interactions were limited. It was why humanity was easier to come by.
Wearily, Alucard shifts so that the whole of his face is pressed against Trevor's chest.]
You don't want to know the real one. [He's blocked it out.]
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[ He does raise his head to kiss Alucard's hair now. Just once, before returning it to the pillow. ]
And Leon Belmont is dead. Very dead. Buried in a robe stitched with silver, with silver nails in the coffin. They dug him up just to stick iron pins in his bones. A lot of things wanted to be the one to desecrate his body, so every precaution was taken.
[ Believe it or not, the Belmont family has earned a place on the shitlist of a lot of people who can raise, control or otherwise mess with the dead. ]
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He's been around a few times before. I think I've stirred that spirit by accident.
[This is so stupid. He knows it's irrational. But fuck it, this liminal twilight of fear and exhaustion needs just a moment of irrationality.]
I had to check a particular inscription on a stone in the crypt one morning. You were both so very exhausted, and I wanted a morning where you weren't making comments about my hair. [Because let's be clear: Alucard's sex hair is truly amazing.] But I had to go past that tomb, disheveled, stinking of you and all, and that spirit knew and has expressed displeasure ever since.
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[ Is all he can manage for a moment. Because this is irrational. And yet Leon would not have been there if it didn't make some sort of twisted sense to Alucard. He brings his other hand up from Sypha's back, tangling his fingers in Alucard's hair and rubbing his fingertips against his scalp.
He'd really rather keep the number of people who know the details of his sex life to two. Not 'Two, a ghost and also Carmilla and her whole fucking army'. But here they are. ]
If he did disapprove - of this, of you, rather than of the drinking, or the- everything fucking else that I've done. If he did, that'd be rich, coming from him.
[ He doesn't know the whole story, but he knows the whip's name. He knows that Leon would have happily spent his life in the arms of a vampire, had that ever been an option. ]
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[There's more to it, even Trevor's likely to figure it out. Dracula's voice was in that horrid amalgamation of rage and blood. And it is so very unlike Alucard to be irrational.
But all of him relaxes as Trevor's fingers rub gently through his scalp. It feels good, but Alucard's always been soothed when he's curled up like this. The hand resting above Trevor's belly button moves, just a little bit up and over, and his thumb softly traces the scar from the first Trevor wound he ever had to sew up. In that stupid fucking wagon.
And in that moment, there's a sense of the familiar. Not in anyway else but the knowledge that this, the memory of it, it hasn't been made profane. That scar was trust, letting a vampire need an open wound, ignoring a lifetime of instinct. Whenever they were all a pile of limbs, Alucard pressed loving kisses to it, lingered, because that stupid scar was the beginning of so much. (Easier to name the scar that than his mother's death. Because all of this was from his mother's death.)]
Forgive me, but given everything I know of your family makes the statement sound false to my ears.
I'll talk to u later about fudging the plot of LoI! in the meantime Trevor doesn't know most of it
His wife. His wife was a vampire.
[ There's a full story to it, most of which Trevor doesn't know. But he knows some. He knows what becomes of Belmonts who are turned, how they are absorbed into the whip to strengthen it and to join the vampire woman who watches over the family. He knows that Leon had loved Sara, because if he did not then none of this would have happened. He would have stayed with her, surely, forever if he could.
...there's irony in this. That Leon's crusade against the creatures of the night began with the death of a beloved vampire, and Dracula's against humanity with the death of a human.
Alucard's hand is on that scar. It always drifts there, doesn't it? Best stabbing he ever got. ]
The Morning Star's name is Sara. [ Is what he manages, after a moment. ]
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A family of fucking librarians and you've never written this story down properly?
[There are other thoughts, thoughts about beginnings and book ends, but this one is...right. And mildly annoyed.]
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[ He shouldn't even be mentioning this within earshot of Sypha, asleep or not. Keeping stories secret is the opposite of her nature. But she's family now, and she sleeps like the dead anyway. ]
The Trantoul family lost a daughter, he wouldn't have them lose their station as well. If word spread that the eldest daughter of the cousin of the King of France became a vampire and that her husband deserted and was exiled- He wanted to protect them.
no subject
[He also never, ever wanted to read them. Not for fear of a Belmont's loathing of Dracula, that much is actually expected. It's more what his father once was, the thing that he sometimes is in dreams, that scares him more. Alucard knows what his father once was, knows the stories, but there's a difference between reconciling a second or third hand account to the man versus one vivid, which is doubtlessly what is in those journals.]
Please tell me you're joking.
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[ He sighs, trying to recall the details. ]
She was very ill when she was turned - a vampire called... Wilfrid, I think? Walter? - but she survived the process. Leon gave up his title and fled from France to stay at her side, but- the weaker someone is in life, the less power they have to fight their hunger as a Vampire. She chose to die, and used her blood to first consecrate the Morning Star.
[ There's a figure in that story who he isn't mentioning. And that's a downer, so- ]
-So, you know. Fucker has no right to judge us. He'd have stayed with a whole vampire, given half a chance.
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So it all comes full circle, doesn't it? [In better times, he might let out a low laugh, acknowledging the full irony of the situation. But he is far too tired and this dream has let far too much out that Alucard cannot bring himself to do it.]
All for love. And all to begin anew.
[They're back where they started, after all. Piled together, everything broken, just a few injuries to bind them fast together, all odds against them.]
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[ He kisses the top of Alucard's head again. It's convenient to, when they're like this. ]
We won't let it happen again. [ And 'it' refers to so many things there. The tragedy that was Sara's turning and Leon's crusade against the dark. The tragedy that was Lisa's death and Dracula's campaign against Wallachia. Losing all that they had to petty vampire power struggles. The torture. The nightmares, for what little control Trevor has over that. ] We won't lose you again. Not to Carmilla, not to Leon Fucking Belmont. Not to anything in between.
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[It isn't just fucked up. It's the parallels. Everything destroyed by fire, and by the same institution in both cases. Hersey. Witchcraft. Close enough offenses. Two idiot sons contending with legacy, and if not for Sypha, set adrift in opposite directions.
There's a careful effort Alucard puts in so not to disturb Sypha, and so not to make returning to his current position too terribly difficult. It has been a while since he's had to use this cramped angle, but muscle memory is an amazing things.
The sorts of kisses the three of them had shared have been usually soft and fleeting. Not scared, but unsure how much can be taken before there's pain or a need to be left to one's thoughts. Reminders that the others are there. So this one is too, but with the passion of earlier days, before all of this.
I know. And I love you.]