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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His hand settles on the roll of leather strapped to his leg, containing the one thing he could focus his anger on creating during their long time on the boat. Made from scrap wood, but tipped with one of those horrible silver needles and carved with spells and soaked in that wine. It's been lying in the wagon, carefully wrapped to protect Alucard, since they set out. It's meant for Carmilla, but if it needs to see use on one of his sisters or his mother or father or whoever else's bones they managed to dig up - so be it. ]
I'll make sure of it.
[ Sypha's hand joins theirs, signaling that whichever soldiers were stationed in the hold to ward off thieves, they're trapped now. He doesn't smile, but his face hardens with conviction, and for the first time in a while he looks more a Belmont than a drunk. ]
If the soldiers posted outside mean to make a fuss, we let them. The more soldiers they draw out of the castle, the better. It's the humans they'll draw out, at dawn. [ The ones who can use the Belmont's tools, the ones that might have been a danger to Alucard with the protection of their vampire comrades. Without them, they're just humans with toys ]. She'll lock the doors, but- [ He trails off, nodding to Alucard. With his strength restored, the castle will listen to him over Carmilla. It would even if they had not spent the last few days stirring chaos, forcing Carmilla to remain awake and divert her attention to a thousand tiny matters. It is his birthright, not hers. ]
-once we are in, Sypha and I keep clay on hand to block our ears if we need to. Don't rely on us being able to hear each other. The livestock pens are our first priority. We can't allow them to use any of their prisoners as hostages.
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Then it is time to speak of strategy, the things they've all committed to memory, the plans made and ammended and debated. (It pained Alucard to argue against immediately releasing those in those cells. They could become caught in the crossfire in the middle of escape. That was his only concern.) They all knew their roles. For a time, they would be split up, and there would be terror for it. But they all knew how to work as three-and-one.
The opinion on where Carmilla was, or likely to lay traps, was not a question. Their wing of the castle. Which meant Alucard would go there and drag out every fight into the main hall, because they will not defile that place further. No dead family members in the bedroom. No Carmilla's corpse in there, broken and bleeding under their say.
That last little inch, still so profaned, would not become ashes and dust.
He should say something. He wants to say something, because a time like this may be the last. But words don't come.
There is a kiss instead. One each. Lingering and loving and with all the fear of not surviving. Let that last part be known.
Then words come.]
On your count, Belmont.
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Even now, all of them beaten down as much as they are, hurt and afraid of loss and with so, so much to be done before things can be as they were, Alucard is beautiful. Even after the kiss has broken, Trevor keeps his forehead pressed against the vampire's. He's been being distant for too long, hasn't he? When all the isolation in the world couldn't have done a thing to make any of this right.
The sun rises all too soon. ]
With me.
[ For this, there is exactly no subterfuge. He draws his sword, takes his whip, and simply walks onto the lawn. Carmilla will know that they are coming. Let her know. Let her be afraid. Let the castle - their home - become a prison for her in her last hours.
Not just her. Let her soldiers be afraid. No doubt many of them are not here by choice, tired and afraid and far from home. Let them be more afraid of the three of them than they ever have been of her. Let them desert. Let them turn on her.
(No more blood in their home than needs to be shed.) ]
I am Trevor Belmont, son of House Belmont. I have come to slay the vampire Carmilla. [ He shouts as they are first sighted, his voice amplified by Sypha's wind magic. No doubt he can be heard from within the castle. No doubt Carmilla can hear him. Good. ] Nobody shall die here who does not wish to perish in her name. Lay down your blades, and let us pass.
[ He means it. He has to mean it, or it doesn't work. And it might mean having to allow the soldiers who aided in Alucard's torture to live later on, if they surrender. But- they are not here for revenge. They cannot be here for revenge. They are here to make things right.
Three of the ten soldiers immediately drop their weapons. Another three draw theirs and rush to attack. Trevor swings his morning star at the skull of the closest, and it tears through bone and brain like it were paper. ]
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So they begin. Trevor in front. Sypha on his right. Alucard on the left. Fire ready in Sypha's hands, Alucard's sword just waiting to be launched as it hovers over his shoulder. (It's still a neat trick, over-dramatics be damned.) The approach is blunt. They are returning home. Why should they slink and skulk around in order to reach their front door?
As Trevor speaks, makes himself known as only he can, Alucard's eyes are on the castle itself. He knows each room, can see where light flickers through thick, drawn curtains. There were logical guesses made about where vampires might stay. He's pleased to be right.
Carmilla puts in no apperance. She'll wait until they're inside, if Alucard has things right. Inside with the front doors shut, for she still can burn like the brightest flame if the dawn touches her. Good. He'll tear down every curtain.
Three idiots run and attack. Vaguely, Alucard thinks he recognizes a face. Doesn't matter. Alucard rushes forward, his sword slamming through the eye of some idiot who thought he might take the dhampir, and he moves towards the front doors.]
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The four who hesitated to drop or draw their weapons make up their minds. One by one, swords fall to the ground. ]
Those of you who would join us, with me. The rest, leave Belmont lands. [ ...nevermind that 'Belmont lands' don't exist anymore, not since they were confiscated. Trevor doesn't care. ] Find your way back to your homes.
[ One. One of the seven living men joins them. It's better than Trevor expected, to be honest, knowing the terrible things Carmilla has surely threatened traitors with. Also, yes. He intends to steal her entire fucking army, given half a chance. He promised Alucard that he'd find a way to protect any escaping prisoners - this is it.
There is only a moment of doubt, where it seems that the doors will remain closed. Then whatever mechanism locks them moves. It takes a few seconds, but eventually there is a soft click and they open. This place belongs to Alucard, not to Carmilla. And it remembers that. ]
Livestock cells first. [ He looks at Alucard as he says it. If he can't return to that place, he'll understand. ] Once the prisoners are free, Sypha and I will cover their escape before we continue, while-
[ He trails off there, only nodding at Alucard. Once the prisoners are free, find his sister. ]
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It is strange, being on one's doorstep like this again. Again. He stands there for not even a moment. It is the easiest thing in the world to force those doors to swing open, and to invite the rays of the earliest morning light into the Great Hall again.
There's so many curtains drawn over the windows again, but unlike the last time this happened, there are no vampires standing at the ready. Alucard knew to anticipate it So he moves beyond the Hall, up the stairs, and there they are. The next part of the hall has no windows, and so it is natural for the army to be there. They're ready for him, spears and swords and fury and it is nothing as Alucard lets his real anger unfold.
Red. The walls are brilliant red. And the path into the castle is cleared. Everything branches off from this hall. Those cells. Their wing. The castle's beating heart is their wing, but the nerve center is here.]
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All of you, stand guard. When the prisoners come out, escort those who can walk the distance as for as Arges. Those who cannot, carry to the Speaker wagons at the edge of the grounds. Sypha, Alucard. With me.
[ With that, he leads the way into the livestock cells. They are grim. Grimmer, in an objective sense, than they were when Alucard was trapped here. Most are alive, some less so than others after being fed from but not drained completely. Trevor tosses a set of keys each to Alucard and Sypha and sets about unlocking chains and cell doors.
In the farthest cell, the one where exsanguinated corpses seem to be kept, is a man in the armour of one of Dracula's servants. His cheeks are sunken and his eyes fixed upon the floor. He does not look up. ]
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And he's not going in those fucking cells. So instead he waits just long enough to make sure that those who are heading down that path are not distracted from the work. His eyes look ahead to the corridor that he must go down once they are all safely through, and...they're through. Into that horrible place.
Which means he has leave to return to their wing of the castle. His feet are steady as he moves because he forces them, and it is so hard to do that.
The corridors of home (real home) are seemingly untouched. The carpet has only one or two red splots on it. Alucard checks no other room. He goes to the bedroom, face set in that horrifying rage.]
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He is the forgemaster, they say. And Trevor feels his hand reaching for his sword.
Sypha's hand falls upon his, and he stops. Instead he steps forward, lifting the man's chin so that their eyes meet.
How many? He trusts that the question will be understood without further elaboration. How many of his family members were pulled from thier graves?
The man doesn't speak, but he blinks once. ]
-
[ The girl from the mirror sits upon the bed, still, a bony dog on her lap. The similarities between her and Trevor are still many. Her cheeks are rounder, what remains of her hands are smaller and more delicate. She would probably be scarless, were it not for the great parts of her that have been burned away. Two arrow holes in her dress, one at the shoulder and one at the heart.
Her hair has been changed since - not cut, but tied up into a neat bun. Her face has been painted a little - red on the cheeks and lips, to make her look a little more like she must have in life. A choker around her neck. Two things are clear - that this corpse is a doll for Carmilla to play with in the absence of the first plaything she found here and that this was meant for Trevor to see, not Alucard.
The room has not been destroyed. Rather each thing has been ruined in some small, precise way. The windows are boarded. Books have been soaked in what could be either ink or blood, in the low light. The papers hanging from the walls - Sypha's list of things that Alucard ought to remember to do while they're away, the old sketches they found hidden in one of Lisa's books and hung on the wall as a joke but ended up keeping, the long tally of days since Trevor had a drink and the short one of days since he last swore - they're burned, but only about halfway. Enough left to be recognized and missed, enough gone to be destroyed. The cloth covering Alucard's claw marks in the table has been pulled away.
But mostly, there is a corpse here. She only pets her dog, staring at Alucard. ]
Oh. Are you the one who is keeping little Trey away from us? Are you hurting him? [ She sounds calm, for asking such things. ] What must we give, for you to return him home?
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The dog is new.
He wants to feel awful for what he's been forced to do. Forced to lead Trevor's family (sister-in-law he does not think) into a second death. One at the hand of the son of the thing they hate most, Leon Belmont's truth be damned and all of them damned with it. But he's still too angry to feel anything else.
Alucard knows what he looks like. He is a monster. He is all red eyes and drenched in blood and the horror of what vampires really are. Anyone would have that fear. Alucard saw his father in such a mode only once before his mother's death, and it stuck for weeks after.
But there cannot be death in here. All these things destroyed in artfully petty ways, but this last thing is forbidden. This is his home and he decides what will be permitted.]
No. And no. [He can manage words. Short ones.]
He's in a different wing of this place. Doing what your family does best.
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[ She watches the door intently at that. Not Alucard. Behind Alucard. When nothing happens, she falls quiet and resumes paying attention to the dog.
From an outside view - this is a blood drenched vampire in the doorway of the room of a young lady. This is the vision that struck terror into people's hearts. This is what people see when they hear the name of Dracula. Oh, the details are all wrong - the young lady is a half-burned corpse, the room belongs to the vampire - but then who ever paid attention to the details?
The corpse does not speak for some time, until the dog barks twice. As if it were a signal of some sort, she immediately looks up again. ]
Do you think that you will succeed? [ It at least sounds like a genuine question. ]
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[It'd be so much easier if this ended in attack. The guilt of it would be simpler. He wants that attack so all of the thing is self defense. But no. He has to lure her out and destroy.
There's enough of Alucard's sense to know this means strategy. And he sees the dog. So he withdraws and goes down the corridor for only a moment, and proceeds to transform. This wolf form is mostly used for hunting food now, not anything else.
That big wolfy head pops back into the doorframe, and there's a soft snuffle. The noise isn't for the poor corpse who's been as abused as any of the three of them. Just the dog.
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It's also. Probably not an action that is being controlled by Carmilla, unless she's become very strange recently. The corpse is brighter now, the cloyingly sweet tone and the more genuine concerned tone that replaced it now replaced entirely with something more open and just a little chiding. ]
You arrived too early. She was going to try to turn me. I was going to document the entire process - I've never heard of a forged creature being turned. It would have been fascinating.
[ A pause. ]
I would have killed her as well, of course. She oughtn't be able to hear us right now. He's been sniffing for her - did you know that forged animals maintain their keen senses, even if all the parts they needed to use them have rotted away?
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And while he wanted her to follow to, the speech is so much harder. Every word she says makes it harder. This isn't fair, it's never been fair, and the more she talks the harder it is to keep that resolve.
But he listens. Listens carefully, because the things said are so very pointed. There's real intelligence, and total Belmont-ness that it's sort of a miracle that Carmilla hasn't been shanked by her own shitty idea.
His eyes keep on her, tail turned up slightly to show that he is listening. If Alucard had words, he would ask do you want me to end this?]
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(It's been a week or so of pretending to be a mindless doll, she has a lot to talk about.) ]
I can do it myself, if it would be easier. I would have anyway, once I was done.
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And there's a small luxury in this. Trevor's family has cast a long shadow over them all, but it's always been his own perspective. Actually talking to one of them that isn't just colored by biased memories is. It's nice. In a horrible, but still.
At the words I can do it, he perks in his wolf form. Nudges her gently. The question's unsaid.
Would you rather...?]
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[ The corpse has followed, only occasionally pausing to scratch Alucard's ears or to give attention to the skeletal dog. It's only now that she hangs back a little and solemnly- ]
...take me somewhere I won't be found until this is done.
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It's weird when she scratches behind his ears too, but that's mostly because while Alucard is so very used to cold dead flesh, burnt dead flesh is a strange sensation indeed.
Where. Their God he hates that he knows where, because that's the part of the castle the two have always respected the request to never enter. And maybe it's better there. Two horrifying deaths, all the better to keep the rest of the house from this misery. The wolf whines softly and nuzzles at the corpse's hand.
I'm sorry. He won't see this. I'm sorry.
They're at the main nexus of the place, all dead vampire soldiers and a sea of blood. All Alucard. He wades through it all, and goes to another seemingly ordinary doorway. He's always left it unlocked. He trusts them.
The door opens without a sound.]
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Goodness. Well, I suppose it isn't my job to maintain the lists of active vampires anymore. This would be a month's work.
[ Apparently joking about shit that should not be joked about is a family trait. The smaller, bonier dog stays back, whining. But driven by purpose now, the corpse of Enid Belmont takes no notice. ]
I expected more- skeletons, I suppose. In the castle. There was a report about cooked meat being hidden in walls, but I think our great Uncle was just hungry-
[ The corpse pauses, staring into what is definitely a child's room. And at what is definitely Carmilla, trying a ring on one long finger. And without missing a beat, she pulls one of the long pins that were used to tie her hair back from her hair.
And yes, she is trying to stake Carmilla with a hairpin. Because even a librarian Belmont is still a Belmont. And Carmilla swats her effortlessly across the room, because even a forged human is still a human. ]
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And as Enid keeps walking keeps talking, and then there is Carmilla and everything is red again.
It takes a precious moment to shift back into human form. In that second, there's a Belmont trying to stab Carmilla with a fucking pin, he's realized the dog knew what was going on, and Carmilla is touching his father's ashes that ring was set in the lid and there is that godless bellow of anger from dreams.
The sword is in Alucard's hands without a second's effort. His hands are claws again, and they have found purchase in Carmilla's flesh, and she is laughing, laughing, laughing even as Alucard flings her out of the bedroom door because he will have that death be in his father's hallways, not this room.'
hell yeah I get trevor back
-
[ In the main hall, efforts to get the prisoners out safely have met far more resistance than anticipated. There are far more night creatures than he could have guessed, based upon their intelligence - one forgemaster should not be able to maintain so many, not without immense amounts of strain. The prisoners take priority, followed by the soldiers who have deserted and placed themselves under Trevor's command. So far, they have only lost one of the latter. Walls of flame make a pathway through the hall, the Morning Star catching anything that dares to try move through it.
It's as the last of the prisoners leaves upon the back of the last of the soldiers that they hear the bellow. The night creatures can wait, there's nothing left here for them to harm but stone and metal and wood. Trevor runs for the stairs but Sypha grabs his hand and the two of them leap up with the wind beneath them, running into the blood-flooded hallway. ]
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Too late now, and he'll sit at Trevor's feet and beg forgiveness for this failure when they're done with this task. Carmilla is in the air with all her terrifying vampiric grace, and Alucard is up there in a flash too.
Bat fights move at a speed too fast to track but in glimpses. The hallway's arch does little to help, and the two have already slammed into the rafters. What Trevor and Sypha witness upon entering is Alucard slamming Carmilla down from that great height, and when she hits the floor the impact shatters the stone underneath.]
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The first thing he sees is the Fourth Dog, who he has not seen since he was maybe nine years old. And then there are a pair of squabbling bats. And then there is his sister, standing dead still with a hairpin in one hand. And there is blood and there are corpses and much of that isn't anything new and then one of the bats slams the other into the ground, and then the bats are Carmilla and Alucard and shit none of this is going to plan.
The stake is in the hand within the second, the whip in his other. Everything else- everything else can be dealt with later. For now there is a vampire here, he doesn't want a vampire to be here, and he knows what to do about that.
Carmilla vanishes into mist to avoid the worst of the impact. When she rematerialises, it is behind Enid, claws at her neck, as if meaning to take a hostage.
And Trevor does not slow. The stake goes through Enid, through her and into Carmilla. ]
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All these things repeat, don't they? The same events. Different people. Same horrible endings. Alucard's picking himself up off the floor to lunge at Carmilla's now shrieking form anyway, because he must be sure she is dead but.
But then there's the dog at Carmilla's throat, ripping out whatever it can. Smart and quick and so fucking loyal that Alucard's able to stop raw instinct.]
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[ He's on the ground. He's on the ground watching a vampire fade into ashes as the Fourth Dog tears at its neck. There is a weight above him, draped over him. Enid is cold and bony and burnt skin flakes off her as she moves her arms to rub his back. But she isn't in pain. She's forged, damage to her body matters little compared to disrupting the magic animating her. There's a shift, she looks up for a moment at Alucard. ]
Mathias' blood, yes? Thank you.
[ The flesh - forged flesh, because there had never been anything left but bone - is dissolving now. With no muscle to support them, bones clatter to the ground. She shakes with laughter, and the movement only speeds the process. ]
Chin up, Trey. No moping, else I shall tell Leontine that you are sleeping with a vampire.
[ And, because sometimes the world is stupid, that is where it ends. She is bones and a dress and a pair of hairpins. Trevor doesn't move. Doesn't acknowledge the skeletal dog sniffing at the bones and whining. He just trembles. He'd resigned himself to this. He'd known it would happen. He'd been willing to do it himself, were it anyone who might pose a true danger to Alucard. That doesn't make it easier. ]
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