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To be fair, 'rosaceae' narrows the types of dryad down by a hell of a lot. Without that I'd have been guessing all day.

[ But a fox. Oh. Oh shit. He knows that this guy matches now and it's Actually The Worst. ]

Out of curiousity- does 'Maupertuis' mean anything to you?

You don't mean the French mathematician, I'm sure. No...you're thinking of foxes.

[Fun things you learn when you're well-read and a Francophile and, y'know, the original fox of myth and legend, to boot.]

More specifically, a fox's castle. Hmm? The hideaway of a red fox whose cunning always seems to let him get the better of his poor uncle the wolf.

~~The mathmetician wasn't born yet for him give him a break.~~

Yes. That one. The- fox's castle. Named for a magical plant.

[ Well shit. But it's not like Reynard is unknown. This might not be a Bad Situation. Just a weird coincidence. ]

Never really thought of any of the tricksters as demons. But- you know. I'd like to be sure. Some of my best friends are wolves and it'd be great if they could keep all their skin.

If it makes you feel better, I don't harbor any particular grudges against wolves. And I'm not Reynard the fox — though he may be a little bit of my fault. Humans have a way of telling themselves stories to explain things they don't understand. To bring order to something...chaotic.

[He pauses.]

Rather like, I imagine, the way that you're trying to classify me so that you better know how to relate to what I am. But that would run the risk of psychoanalyzing you again, and I should be careful not to do that.

[The expression on his face does not in any way look apologetic or remorseful for Having Done That, for what it's worth.]

Most cultures have a fox legend or two. I'm afraid that my...antics, long ago, may have inspired a fair number of them, either directly or through simple osmosis.

Ah.

[ He pauses for a long time, thinking. In the yukata's representation of reality, Kurama's shape shifts. Briefly, he gains boots and gloves made from a cat's front and wolf's back paws, still fresh-skinned and bleeding, and a coat made from a bear's hide. Dryad had seemed so much more pleasant a prospect. When the image settles, it's on a long stalk of St. John's wort. ]

I'll be honest, I'm going to need a moment to decide how the fuck to process that information. What were you wanting to ask about?

Ah. Of course. Let me start by...clarifying, why I chose you in particular to ask.

[He watches the pattern of the yukata as it changes, eyes narrowing as all of a sudden the patchwork imagery abruptly becomes clear, and he realizes what it is he's seeing reflected back in the fabric and drape.

Curious that it likewise renders Trevor Belmont invisible. Knowledge, understanding, cunning — valuable things, useful things, displayed in the patterns of the robe, but the man upon which they hang is...irrelevant.

Or maybe he's just leaning a little too heavily into metaphor that isn't there. But so it goes.]

In part, it was because you said you would listen to me at all, to begin with. There wouldn't be much point, without that. But I'm also asking you in particular because, as you've so thoroughly pointed out before now, you're acquainted with the supernatural. You have a familiarity with...creatures like me. And I think, because of that, you won't hesitate to judge as I'm asking to be judged. I don't want sympathy, or kindness. I just want an answer.

[And yet still, he looks away. Turns his eyes to the ocean instead of to the bloodied stolen bits of other creatures that decorate his silhouette on Trevor's yukata like malicious trophies.]

There was a hypothetical question posed on the network recently. What it amounted to was, would you kill a child if it meant the preservation of the world. Some people would not have it in them to do it. Others would do it, but it would haunt them ever afterward. And some...are simply capable of such things. Ruthless enough. Cold enough. The greater good is served, through the blood on their hands.

[He quiets a minute, still not looking at Trevor.]

Does that person deserve any pity for the choice they made?

No.

[ He also turns to look at the ocean, the stalk of yellow flowers sliding away from the yukata, replaced by the sea and the shadows that move around beneath it. It's easier this way. Watching the sea swell and retreat instead of acknowledging that there are emotions happening. ]

Not pity. The fuck are they going to do with pity?

Good.

[It's not good in an agreeable sense, but in an approving one. It has nothing to do with the direction the answer went, and everything to do with the honesty from whence it stems.]

Are they noble, then? Heroic, for taking on such a burden where another could not?

Depends what they do next, really.

[ He shrugs at the sea. The sea doesn't respond. Momo cares not for this angst. ]

If they just go on with shit and let it be, they're someone who wanted to live. Or who wanted other people to live. Reasonable enough. Not really anything special, outside of being unrelenting.

Very well. My last question, then.

[It's a testament to his control and his poise that he's not fidgeting the way that someone else might in a similar set of circumstances. He's not running his fingers over the sleeve hems of his yukata, and he's not shuffling his feet, and he's not diverting his gaze from the water. The only movement at all is the way the breeze plays with his hair, bringing it to flutter and fan about his face.]

If even that person hesitated, for even a moment, in their conviction, what would it say about them?

Well. It's not ideal, in terms of- you know. Getting the job done. Probably means that they were looking for another way. Which is one of those things that can only really be anything at all in hindsight. If there was another way, they did great. If there wasn't, either they still killed a kid and just took longer doing it or there isn't a world anymore.

[ He takes a deep breath, staring out. Fireworks are going off somewhere very quiet and distant, but the area of beach that they occupy feels very cut off from the rest of the celebration. Everything is muted except for the sea and their words. ]

You're old as balls, aren't you? To have predated Reynard. I'm guessing you have at least passing familiarity with vampires?

Familiar enough. I've met a few here, actually. They strike me as creatures of extremes. Moderation seems to be a rare commodity among them.

[He can't help but laugh under his breath, though, regardless. He has, thanks to some rather unusual shenanigans, quite correctly been ancient since the day he was born.]

Go on.

Vampires also get old as balls. Without really looking it. They just stop aging at the point that they get turned. So if they're turned before they're old enough to develop- say, a sense of empathy, or the ability to understand that their actions have consequences-

[ Wow. That sure is an ocean. ]

-I'm guessing you understand where I'm going with this.

There are vampires with the appearance and nature of children, and you've killed them.

[It's where he assumes this topic of conversation is going, at least. It makes him think of the contrast between Trevor's description and how he'd been when he was a child, himself. Five years old and already convinced of his superiority to his human mother.

He's never done so well in the empathy department, either, has he. Not in two lifetimes. Such perspective it gives him, into the vampires.]

It saved lives, preventing them from preying on their victims. And yet to some degree they were innocent; they were turned before they ever developed the ability to know better.

It used to be- not a common tactic, thank fuck, but still a fucking problem, in the bad old days. Long before my time. If you can turn a kid when they're old enough to have control over their bodies but young enough that their brains haven't developed enough for- you know. The kind of reasoning that teaches them that people can be hurt. The first thing those kids'll do is eat, because they're hungry. Because they're too young to understand that eating people means those people go away.

Then you have a kid- a vampire, with all the strength and powers of one, who's still completely dependant on others. Who's just eaten anyone who'd be motivated to work in their interests. Who'll never have the capacity for independent thought. Not a perfect soldier by any means, too chaotic for that, but you can make them need you and if you starve them and set them loose in a crowded place? You get results.

[ There are no tiny skulls on the yukata. No small bodies. Just what's there and what might be there and a stalk of yellow flowers somewhere out of view. ]

Doesn't happen so much anymore. I've only ever seen- two, I think. Vampires tend to keep themselves in line now when it comes to that sort of thing.

Why did they change? The vampires keep themselves in line now, where they didn't before. What made then suddenly decide to behave?

[But as he thinks about it, drawing analogies between what he knows of vampires and what demon culture would do in the same situation, he gradually comes to a conclusion of his own.]

I could hazard a guess, I think. Someone more powerful than the vampires that were engaging in the practice arose and instituted a new world order. A new set of rules. One of them was no more children.

Yeah. Four hundred years ago they got themselves a new boss. He didn't care for it. I'm sure you can imagine the kind of thing that happens if the king of vampires doesn't care for your bullshit. We started our work proper around the time he came into power. So even those who didn't care about his rules decided that anyone pulling that shit was getting our attention and putting them in danger.

[ ... ]

He stopped caring so much about it. He's dead, now. I suppose that I'm what's left to deter that kind of shit.

Naturally. The law is dictated by the powerful, and the weak fall in line — or suffer the consequences.

[Funny how some things are the same all over. Unchanging. Consistent.]

How does one become king of the vampires, out of curiosity?

Same way you become king of anything else. You say that you're king and then put anyone who disagrees on a stick.

[ The only real political system he's ever known. He lives in a stickocracy. ]

Traditionally you get someone to say some bullshit about divine right, but vampires don't care for that part of the theatrics.

I thought as much. That's how we do it, too — as a matter of fact, that's precisely what was unfolding when I left. A forthcoming, anticipated vacuum of power with no clear heir to fill it.

[NOTHING WRONG WITH A STICKOCRACY SOMETIMES THAT'S JUST HOW YOU DO]

Our two remaining kings are about to fight a war with each other, following the death of the third. And I am one of their sticks.

S'not a bad life, being a stick. Not too much thinking. Always have something to do. I think that was always the plan, if Dracula ever died. Find someone who'll make rules we like, be his sticks.

[ NO GODS, NO KINGS, ONLY STICKS. ]

There's just me, now. Just one stick. And anyone I'd trust to rule wouldn't fucking want to.

[Oh. Hm. That's...well. Certainly there could be a lot of Draculas, nothing says it's the same Dracula, but the coincidence isn't something he can just leave alone and not follow up on.

So. Time to hazard a guess, then, and see what happens.]

You mean his son, I assume.

Shit. You're better at this than I am, not-Reynard.

[ How many guesses did he make, all of them off the mark? And Kurama got it in one. ]

Can't talk about him too much- not my shit to share. But yeah. Not eager to take on the job. And I can't in good conscience push him into it. Not when I'm in no position to keep my side of the bargain.

I'm a terribly clever fox, you see. But no, I simply remember speaking with someone of that nature before; his story made something of an impression on me.

[...]

And I upset him with callousness. I could have afforded him more empathy, but I — didn't. That left an impression on me, as well.

I understand why he wouldn't want to rule. Even setting aside the burden of power, and the necessity of standing in his father's shadow...his unique circumstances would make managing the vampires difficult, I imagine.

You didn't upset him. He doesn't need coddling. It's all just- still fresh.

[ He thinks about that. Calculates. Getting Alucard to play ruler was never going to be a realistic situation, so he's never put too much thought into how it might work. ]

No, not really. It'd have caused trouble, yes. But maintaining rule is- you know. A stick-based affair. Not a being-approved-of one. There are three candidates, who might have been anywhere close to Dracula's level of power. The two others turned by Dracula's own sire, and him. Dracula never turned anyone. He's the closest there is. Of the two others, one can safely be assumed dead. The other is- a stick. My family's matricarh.

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