for cryptsleeper and adamic

[miraclewhip]

[ It hadn't been long before the attacks had become nightly occurrences. There were close calls, a few too many of them, especially once they rejoined Sypha's caravan and were travelling with the very young and the elderly and those who simply could not fight. Before long, one thing became clear.

This was not coincidence, and something knew how to find them.

And so drastic measures had to be taken. The speakers had wards for this, magics that they had used since the start of their oral history, apparently to keep the eyes of god turned away from them. Whatever was being used to track their movements, it wouldn't be able to find them any more. Herbs were burned, spells were cast, and the attacks stopped. They traveled with the speakers for some time, until their path led them close to Belmont lands, and then they returned.

They returned to closed doors.

That in itself wasn't overly surprising. Keeping one's front doors open at all times was hardly the wisest of ideas. But they didn't open, no matter how Trevor shoved at them. No matter how much Sypha knocked nicely, like a normal person.

(there were tiny dents in the wood, dents that nobody would notice if they didn't know what to look for, where a knife handle had struck it years ago) ]

Let us in, you brooding vampire fuck.

[ And he takes his own knife, slamming the handle of it against the door. It worked once, right? ]

I swear to god, if you've decided to pull that 'grave' shit I'm going to get in here and wake you up with the fucking vampire killer.

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[cryptsleeper]

[The mirrors had been working. And then they hadn't.

The last discussion had over the viewing mirror had been tense. Nightly attacks. Too many people to keep an eye on. A million other little factofs that made being stuck in the castle so very, very infuriating. The worry was something Alucard tried to temper with a simple fact: Sypha and Trevor were more than capable of this work. Trust them.

And the part of him that was, is, and always will be a Ţepeş, one who has seen what inaction can cause, worried. He went away from that last conversation reassuring himself that all was fine and then there was silence.

Not just silence, but no images in the mirror at all. Just his own reflection, expression shifting between fear and anger that something might have gone wrong, and then fear at the anger because it's a horrifyingly familiar path. One day was nothing. They were busy. The magic of the mirrors were misbehaving.

Two days was worth being upset over. They forgot. The mirror got left in a bag.

Three days was worth panicking. Alucard knew where they had last been, their contacts, all the other details they had shared. He'd find them, ignore any chastizement about leaving the castle to fend for itself, and if they went home mad at him they went home together.

It's why the two are faced with closed doors now, the castle looming in contrast to the greenery around them all. It's June, with all the promises of the warm summer months and long, long days. Bad for vampires. Good for everyone else.

Alucard's voice doesn't come from the castle or from the communicators. It comes from behind Trevor and Sypha. He's just broken from one of those overpowered vampire runs, and there's no playing it off casually. There's relief on his face, like there were questions about their safe return.]

You're here.

[Two simple words and all the relief that there could ever be in them.]

ALSO USES THIS POST FOR CUDDLES

[miraclewhip]

[ The room is not yet whole again, but all of the things that were wrong are gone from it. Flakes of burned paper and burned skin, one left there out of malice and the other entirely accidentally, have been swept away. Scorch marks have been scrubbed from the walls. Ruined books have been removed from the room and their titles placed on a list of things that ought to be replaced. What did not feel right after being cleaned has been discarded, and what was broken and irreplaceable has been set aside for later.

And there have been exactly zero corpses in this bed, which is the proper amount of corpses for a bed as far as Trevor is concerned. Depending on how one counts Alucard, anyway.

The blankets would be too warm for the season, if Alucard's back was not so cool against his chest. Even as flushed as he is, his skin is cool to the touch. It's pleasant. Trevor's breathing is still heavy and it is deeply, deeply tempting to pull both soldier and speaker so close that no nightmares can crawl between them and to just sleep, all of them safe and content with heavy heads and nothing to be afraid of.

But there is work to do. So much more work. And today- today work consists of making sure that there is not an inch of skin on the vampire's body that hasn't been kissed more recently than it has been hurt. They only got about halfway through that task before his reactions became a little too distracting and they became sidetracked. Sidetracked in a wonderful, perfect, highly overdue way. But still sidetracked. This is important.

(And Alucard does dislike it, if he leaves tasks half-finished.)

He pulls Alucard tighter against himself and buries his face in the vampire's hair, pressing his mouth against the skin behind his ear. ]

Not finished yet.