[The walk back up the mountain is not a quick one. The paths naturally curl and twist up the mountainside, and Hector doesn't make his way by the most direct route. He wants time to think before he reaches Julia's cottage.
He did mean what he said to Isaac, before they...before the sex. Julia may be better off without either of them. He will do right by her.. whatever that may be.
The night breeze whisks away the scent of blood and sex and sweat that hangs around him. There will be no fooling Julia's eagle eyes, so he tarries, hoping she will be deep asleep so that he can clean himself up before facing her.
There's nothing for him to fear on the mountain. His forged creatures keep monsters away, and no people come here. Well, Isaac had, but Isaac also hadn't killed him.
In any case, it's a slow, contemplative journey, and Hector is focused inward, not outward. When he hears movement along the path behind him, he first assumes it is some nocturnal creature, foraging or hunting for its dinner. But it persists, and Hector is forced to turn his aching body to meet the oncoming form.]
similarly, lemme know if this word dump is ok. I'm sure future tags won't be half as long
[They stay crouched in the undergrowth, communicating in a language of looks and nods, breath bitten back as they take aim. By the time Isaac feels the familiar, visceral twinge of a holy aura somewhere in the middle distance - Belmont-like, but less overbearing -, he's already in their crosshairs. Abel moves fast, lunging for the shadows with a powerful snap of its wings. But projectiles are faster.
It's not the first time a hunter has gotten him wrong: Isaac doesn't burst into flames or crumble to ashes when a jagged bolt punches into him, or when a stake does as he whirls around, wild-eyed. Jacked with fury and adrenaline, he's as alive as he's ever been, roaring for blood while Abel tears through their formation. They break apart and fall back, some in pieces, survivors fumbling desperately to reload. A flask of holy water shatters into Isaac's shoulder, splashing his face as he rips through a man from hip to armpit and severs another's head in the same swing. Someone turns, stumbling back the way he came. They don't make it more than ten feet before Hector's dagger leaves Isaac's hand and catches up, burying into the back of his skull. The one man left alive survives just long enough for Isaac to drive his heel into his crotch and twist it, squeezing everything he needs to know out of him.
There are others on the move: packs of village-grown hunters led around by sorcerers, all humans emboldened by Dracula's fall and determined to reclaim their homeland, piece by piece.
It's not the thought of Hector that makes his stomach swoop when he has Abel take him up into the air and set him down along the steep, craggy footpath leading up the mountain to intercept him. Isaac wasn't counting on a reunion this soon, if at all; but the fierce look in his eyes leaves little room for talk of anything but the situation on hand.]
You will go no further. [He doesn't raise his wet, sheening sword but doesn't sheathe it either, standing with a slight slouch to his shoulders as though he's struggling under the weight of his own blood-soaked cloak.] We are being followed.
[For common hunters, his enemies were clever enough to anoint their weaponry. He managed to wrench the stake from his blistering flesh, but the bolts snapped off, leaving the heads buried. Whether poor craftsmanship or a deliberate choice in its design is to blame, they're aggravatingly effective; he can already feel the blessing leaching from the metal, the wrongness of it as it slowly eats at his insides.]
[Hector gasps out the greeting when Isaac emerges, but his rival's explanation cuts off any further inquiry. He looks feral, and smells like blood. Hector's immediately on guard.]
Damn it. [So much for going home. Hector's still unarmed and aching. Damn, damn, damn. He and Julia had been so careful to avoid notice. Why now?]
We'll lure them away. I know these paths. If we move quickly, we should be able to lead them on a merry chase.
[He's careful not to mention from where they are diverting their pursuers; he knows not how close they are or if his words will be overheard. More than his life or Isaac's, Hector hold's Julia's safety as paramount. No matter what, he cannot let her come to harm.
He starts to move down a side path, then hesitates as his eyes pass over Isaac's form in the dark. He knows Isaac, has witnessed all manners of his postures and poses. Even in darkness, he knows the silhouette of the man. This slump of his is atypical. Concerning.]
Are you hurt?
[He steps closer to Isaac's side, hyper-aware now of the scent of blood hanging about him.]
[He turns from Hector's knowing gaze, his jaw sharpening as he moves on ahead, his stride purposefully, defiant. Isaac may have turned his back on the idea of returning to the castle on its eventual return, but it lives inside him all the same, as does its culture of fierce competition and posturing. He can't say yes, can't bring himself to say it, even when his body betrays him, because forgemasters aren't supposed to ask for help.]
'tis nothing. ...'twill take far more than a few bolts sprinkled with the piss of a priest if they hope to kill me.
[He keeps his sweat-stung eyes to the darkness on the horizon, gaze darting briefly at any sound he can't place or with the feelings on the periphery of his awareness. His lungs shouldn't burn; it shouldn't be this hard, keeping up with Abel's lazy wing beats. He gives his head a brisk shake to clear it, annoyed with himself. Sooner rather than later, he'd need Abel to burrow its claws into him and pick out every burning piece of metal.]
These are hunters by no means as capable ['Or as pretty', he might have mused, in a lighter mood] as the Belmont. But 'twould seem they have recruited men of magic to further their glorious cause. [After a while, he finally slants Hector a look from the corner of his eye.] There is time to fashion yourself a crude weapon. But work quickly.
[Rocks, branches. Not much in the ways of useful raw material, but it's a start. Open that COMBINE menu!]
[Even in the height of Hector’s time as Dracula’s Devil Forgemaster, a part of him was always unsuited for the brutalities of war. He hated sending his creations off to die in battle. He hadn’t want to see innocents suffer. He yearned for peace, for the chance to devote himself to his art of creation, not of death.
Isaac is a tenuous ally at best, but he is the only ally Hector has at the moment. They have the unified goal of keeping the hunters from Julia’s door. Hector wants him well. Isaac would rather die than accept pity, but Hector is counting on the fact that he will recognize the fact that Isaac can’t pull his weight if he bleeds out first.
...the fact they fucked factors in to Hector’s resolve as well, though he does not know where in the puzzle it fits.]
If there’s time for that, then there’s time for me to patch up your wound so you don’t leave a trail for our would-be Belmonts to follow. If it’s as trivial as you claim, it should only take a moment.
[He lengthens his strides so he can outpace Isaac and get out in front of him to bar his path. The fact that he can is a testament to how sorely it is needed.
He won’t risk summoning any of his combative devils when Julia might need to call upon them, but his fairy, he beckons to join them. He might have need of the creature’s skills, if Isaac will let him see the damned wound.]
[He jerks to a stop, baring his teeth at him. In an instant, their history and every meaningful exchange they ever shared fades away and Hector becomes just one more person standing in his way, waiting to be cut down.]
Let them come. [Then:] I don't need your help.
[The word is spat out with the venom that uglier four-lettered word deserve, and every line in his body tenses, because he's fine, because the arrowheads are plugging some wounds from bleeding heavier and he knows his limits, knows he can survive and push through this like he has everything else, able to put more distance between them and Julia before he'd desperately need rest.
But he does slip a hand under his cloak and press it to the stake-wound in his side, waiting for the burst of flame from his palm to take, for his skin to sizzle and sting and crust over. It's like lighting wet tinder, has been this way for as long as he's known it. He could pass his arms through fire and his gauntlets would melt and stick to him long before his flesh pinked, bubbling with blisters; it's the raw bite of ice that hurts.]
Now move, and get to work, or you shall the spend the length of our trek dragged over the rocks.
Edited (forever picking obsessively at words while I still can) 2019-08-11 02:13 (UTC)
Damn you, Isaac. It will be no hunter that tells you. Your own stubborn pride will see it done.
[Hector’s own pride is smarting, having extended a hand in aid only to have it smacked away. He shouldn’t be so irrationally angry, but he is.
He wrinkled his nose at the revolting stench of burning flesh. If Isaac would rather burn himself than let Hector tend him, so be it.]
I doubt any rock here is as hard as your head....
[He mutters to himself as he turns away from the other forgemaster and finds himself a rock, a branch, and a length of vine. With a few moments of crafting, he comes away with a makeshift mace.]
Mind your tongue while you have one yet, you worthless fuck!
[He bites back, one wounded animal to another. Clenching his jaw, he pushes his battered body along to fall into step at Hector's side, almost desperate to make a point. He didn't need Hector; he didn't need anyone, much less now, he reminds himself, when some of the worst that could've happened had happened and he had crawled his way out of fear to a place of self-respect on his own, drying the last of his tears himself. It's what needed to happen; it's what it means to be strong. One either breaks under terrible force, or bends into a new, sometimes unrecognizable shape. A better one, he decides.]
I was learning to survive long before you showed your pretty little face in the castle!
[The breathless edge to his voice betrays him and he's all the more vicious for it. He hates it all: the way only Hector can burrow under his skin; the uselessness of his own training as his heart pumps more of the poison around and the parts of him that aren't burning grow heavier, number; that wherever they'd camp for the night, together or alone, feels too far away, and dogged determination just isn't enough.
There's no adrenaline left to buffer the pain. He doesn't know when it goes from white noise to a shrill screeching that makes the world around him all floaty and fuzzy around the edges, pushing and pulling his thoughts to half-crazy places, but suddenly he wants - needs to stop, to push his nails into himself and carve his way down, down. Carve all the sickness right out of himself.
His eyes pinch shut.
He grips the hilt of his sword tighter.]
Even with your strongest weapons and devils at your side, neither you nor Dracula's spirit could destroy me, and now... you think you know best, do you? [He huffs, tottering.] That I, I need --
[His knee goes soft all on its own and the ground lurches towards him. He doesn't snap out his arms to break his fall and drops hard, loose pebbles and clods of dirt tumbling after him as he slides partway down the side of the path.]
[Isaac’s dig strikes a chord, and Hector’s heart beats harder with fury. A worthless fuck, huh?
He speeds up so that Isaac will have to work to keep the pace. Let him learn his stubbornness has a price.]
You survived because no one cared enough to—
[He turns when he realizes Isaac has gone silent. Somehow, he feels Isaac’s collapse just as surely as he sees it, in the churning of his stomach and the sinking in his chest.
For one brief, panicked motion, Hector’s anger wins out, and he thinks, ‘I’ll leave you there and good riddance.’
He’s at Isaac’s side within the next heartbeat.]
Damn you, Isaac. [He repeats. Abel will never listen to Hector’s orders, not even to save his master, and Isaac can’t or won’t ask god his demon’s help either, so Hector curses him again as he stoops to lift the deceptively heavy frame of his fellow forgemaster.]
Be still, or it’s more than just our lives you’ll be putting at stake. [He growls as he hoists Isaac into his arms, even though he’s not sure if Isaac is even conscious to hear them. There’s a network of caves not far from here; they’ll be as good a place as any to rest briefly and see to this wound of Isaac’s, if the man will just let Hector get them there.]
The flesh does, of course - and it takes only seconds for the dazed ache he's feeling to build to a savage, full-bodied throbbing in the aftershock. His lungs cramp up; his mouth fills. He spits what tastes like dirt and burnt copper and croaks for air, blood webbing his lips. Still alive, if barely. He can't tell how bad it is any better than he can tell up from down while his skull rocks with a violence that feels like it'll split itself open.
Abel circles back, hovering restlessly at his side. A muted growl rumbles in its chest and Isaac shakily lifts his head to look. Through the sunspots dancing in his vision, he makes out the gold accents of a boot, wondering vaguely where he remembers it from. Then there's a voice, drowned out by the rushing in his ears. It could be saying anything; but all he hears is his own breath coming heavy and ragged and Hector's words in a loop:
try to keep up try to keep up
He coughs. Something jars deep inside him - an ugly, visceral shock, like that something is squirming and alive - wringing tears from his eyes faster than he can blink them back. His brain whites out. He coughs again, wetter, as he grasps his way up the slope and scrabbles clumsily for purchase, fighting to get a gasp in edgewise. His body isn't working like it should; doesn't feel like his own. Not until someone - or something - grabs hold of him. Hands hauling him up and up. His heart lurches. He snaps to awareness with a strangled shout, blinded by anger and hurt and by something dangerously close to fear on an instinctual level, because he's felt this before and knows he has to escape it, to try, or it'd get worse - it could always be worse. But he has already lost, when he twists and another raw stab of pain runs him through. Retching bile, he sees a flash of lights and colours -- and then nothing at all, ragdolling in Hector's grip.]
[Every muscle in Hector’s body aches as he lifts the struggling body.]
Shhhhh.
[He hushes by instinct; Isaac has never been one to follow an order. The cries get muffled by vomit, and Hector has to fumble through the hold to get a hand free to turn Isaac’s head so he doesn’t choke on it. There’s bile on Hector’s clothes and shoes and streaking Isaac’s face. This night gets better and better.
Unconsciousness is a blessing when it comes. At least Hector now only has to contend with dead weight, not with a stubborn idiot crying out.
It would be better to make a roundabout course to their destination, through the streams that flow down the mountain to obscure their path, but Isaac is too poorly off to allow for that. Hector takes the quickest path.
The cave is dark and quiet. Hector eases Isaac out of his arms and onto the cold stone. He moves aside the cloak to examine the hastily cauterized wound. The skin bulges, distorted by some foreign object still inside.]
You’re not going to like this. [He murmurs, taking one of Isaac’s daggers and wiping it clean on his pants. This is the best he can do under the circumstances.
He cuts into the flesh, reopening the wound. The blade is withdrawn and replaced by Hector’s fingers, seeking out the shard he knows must be there. Slow and gentle will prove to be no kindness in the long run, so Hector is quick and deliberate. Feeling through blood and tissue, he finds the broken bit of shaft. He widens the cut and draws out the piece.
A glowing light appears over his shoulder. It’s a familiar light, one Hector does not need to turn to acknowledge. His fairy, finally caught up to them.
With a wordless command, the little devil focuses its energy on the flesh Hector is applying pressure to. It knits the flesh back together, purifying to ward off infection as it accelerates the body’s natural healing process.
Hector uses the water from his canteen to wash the blood from his hands. He tears a strip of cloth from his tunic and wets it to wipe the sick from Isaac’s lips and cheeks.
He needs to leave the cave, to intersect their pursuers before they tract the forgemasters to this hideout.
He lingers for a moment, still kneeling beside Isaac’s prone form. It’s rare to see him still, unguarded.
Hector reaches out a hand to brush sweat-slick hair from his brow. He repeats the motion, with no purpose other than to reassure himself that Isaac has not yet succumbed to his wound. It’s a gentle touch that Isaac would never permit in waking, so Hector steals it while he sleeps.
And then he rises, leaving the fairy to watch over Isaac as he heads to the opening of the cave.]
[What could be hours or minutes later - to Isaac -, he twitches to life, gasping like a man shaken out of a dream. His senses filter back in, slowly. Taste first: vinegar and rust sticking to his tongue; then the icy press of something flat and wide underneath him, and the prickling of his skin as he shivers and goosebumps rise, his nipples pebbling. When he finally cracks his eyes open, it's to a world so black and still. A near-total silence that sharpens his awareness of the pulsing at his temples and the calmer, steadied flow of his magic. It's too quiet for a cell in a dungeon but he listens for footsteps anyway, for howling, for the chitter and hiss of rats. Something whirs faintly by his ear - an insect? He blinks and blinks until the darkness thins, turns to shades of gray, and a jagged wall pulls into focus. Nothing hurts; not yet. But some part of him is counting the seconds, waiting for his nerves to light up when he dares to flex an arm and pull it closer to him. Nothing pulls it back. He isn't tied down. The arrowhead is gone too, he realizes, because the fog in his head is clearing and he can breathe again, deep breaths that don't feel like they're ripping him apart.
He pushes up after a moment, too smoothly, too easily, chains softly rustling. Dirt rains from his hair. Still no pain. Only the violent headrush of sitting up too fast - and then, as it settles, a series of memories flashing through his mind, vivid fragments. The pieces all begin to slot into place when he turns to see a fairy drifting nearby and a man's silhouette against the mouth of the cave.
He stares and stares, feeling like his chest is folding in on itself.
Hector did this.
This is Hector's punishment: leaving him at the mercy of his own demons, the wrenching humiliation and self-hatred that no healer can soothe or cut out of him or draw out with a poultice; a pain that makes him wish that he had never woken up at all, that Hector left him on the mountainside and did them all a favour. Dying is easy, has always been easy; it's living that's hard.
He swats at the fairy, his throat bobbing.]
I never asked for this! [He roars.
Abel looks on from a distance, its lip curling into a snarl.]
[Hector hears movement, then Isaac's angry growls from within the cave. Well, the silence was nice while it lasted. He sighs, steeling himself before he ducks inside their hideout.]
Hush, and stop being rude to my fairy. It saved your life. [The poor harassed devil, a little tiara-type, flits to Hector's side and seats its crystalline backside on his shoulder.
Hector's in no mode for Isaac's tantrum. Isaac has been out for a while, and in that time, Hector has been out into the forest, trying to make a false trail for the hunters to follow further away from both Julia's shop and from their cave. He hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, has barely rested, and so help him if Isaac undoes all of his hard work with his whining, Hector will kill the other forgemaster himself.]
No, you didn't ask, and you were in no shape to, so I acted. Leaving you to die would have only emboldened the hunters to keep going.
[He hates that he has to offer excuses for why he intervened. Isaac won't accept that Hector saved his life for his own sake, though, so he has to go through this song and dance.]
We should be safe here for a little while longer, but we need to be ready to move before the sun fully rises. We have to be seen leaving this area so that they will have no reason to search any further.
[He's drag Isaac out if he has to. If that's the only way to keep both Laforezes safe, so be it.]
[Isaac twists his face away, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he draws his knees to his chest. If he's grateful for anything at all, it's for the shadows that hide Hector's expression from him and that afford him the same inscrutability when a tic pulls at the corner of his mouth and he shakes, staring hard into empty space. He scrapes his dagger off the cave floor, gripping it by the blade. Squeezing slowly. The sting is keen but controlled as the edge slices into his fingers, everything he needs it to be, and he lets his eyes slip shut to focus on the fresh welling of blood. Just breathing and breathing, struggling to keep his head above all the chaos and the noise threatening to pull him under.]
...Safe.
[He repeats, quietly, with the leering sneer of a man who doesn't believe in the word. He swallows against the burning lump of shame in his throat.] And then what? Walking longer yet to the ends of the earth? Setting out to sea, perhaps?
[Any mention of 'we' is carefully left out; he doesn't know what his own intentions really are any more than he knows Hector's, beyond the immediate plan he's laid out. But it's easy to assume that somewhere along the way, there'll be a parting of ways; one last goodbye, before hell would bring them together again.]
I. Don’t. Know. [Frustration and exhaustion sharpen his clipped words.]
We’ll lead them away from here. Until that’s done, nothing that comes after matters.
[Hector isn’t a planner, isn’t a leader. He doesn’t know what to do other than to react to the threat before them. What he wants is to curl up on the cold stone beside Isaac and bury his head in the crook of Isaac’s neck, to let the heat of his skin and the beat of his pulse lull him while his body rests.
He is pretty sure Isaac would put his dagger through Hector’s heart before he’d allow that.]
...I don’t know where I am headed after. We’d be stronger together, not that you’d care, but once we’re clear of the mountain and sure the hunters have been drawn away, you can be rid of me.
[He assumes that is what Isaac wants, now that he’s conquered the bit of Hector he’d wanted.]
[A muted, humourless chuckle.] Well, I had imagined you would best know, familiar as you are with running away.
[Luring enemies to their deaths is the sort of end he'd hope for for these humans; not letting them be, each one of them an untied loose end. He tugs his cloak tighter around his shoulder and hunches against the cold, sparking a small ball of flame from his palm. He turns his hand, idly rolling it between his fingers and over his knuckles as if it's a marble, longing for the heat and comfort of a proper fire, smoke be damned.]
Together, that many more of them could be slain. [And their bodies infused with new life, made to fight or sent off in different directions, leading others astray.] And with every corpse, one less threat to darken Julia's doorstep.
[He snaps a first over the fire, snuffing it out, and looks up to Hector again, his pale eyes gleaming.]
Abel shall keep watch. [It has three more eyes than either of them do, and they're better suited to sensing movement, more so in the dark.] If they are near enough, he will see them... and you shall sense their presence as well.
[Isaac is worse than any thorn bush Hector’s had to pick his way through. He digs in barbs and tears at any flesh that catches. More fool Hector for trying to get close.]
Self defense is one thing, but once they are away from Julia, there’s no need....
[The men chasing them aren’t evil, or if they are, it is independent of their pursuit. They are just men, trying to protect their families and make the world safer.
If it comes down to it, Hector will kill to protect his own, but he won’t seek out the battle. Julia wouldn’t want them dead, just gone.]
Just be ready to move when the sun rises. We may end up with no choice but to fight.
[He takes a seat, more than an arm’s length from Isaac on the cold stone. He’s not that masochistic to come any closer, even if they are the only sources of heat available to the other.
He pulls out his canteen, newly filled from one of the chilly mountain streams, and offers it across the distance between them.]
Drink. You lost blood earlier, and you need to stay hydrated.
[The flintiness of Isaac's gaze says there never was a choice, not from the moment they were othered, driven to desperation to look to a demon-infested castle for refuge and freedom. But he doesn't snap at him; just watches as Hector moves and then settles in front of him and they sit in the cold, lonely damp like creatures who've never seen the light of day, taking measure of each other and waiting for something neither of them seem to be sure of.
Hector's eyes are still, black pools. Isaac sees nothing he can recognize in them - it's too dark. But he keeps looking, unblinking, as he breathes in the musk that sticks to Hector's clothes, what's left of their sweat and their come from a time that seems like it never existed, and feels his cock twitch, his bare skin tingling.
He looks down at the offered canteen, hesitating. This isn't concern, he reasons; it's simply the pragmatic thing to do. Hector wants him fit to travel, not a burden - and in that, at least, they can agree.
Wordlessly, he lifts it to his lips. The first sip he reserves for rinsing out his mouth, having the decency to turn his head when he spits. Then, a proper swallow, long and greedy, and god, it takes like gold, soothing his burning throat. He lets himself have another before passing it back, knuckling his chin dry.]
I am almost impressed you could walk as far as you have without the aid of your precious fairy. [He says, lowly.]
[That honest shock in Hector's voice - the sense that he's unbalanced him, even slightly - prompts a shift in his black mood and he offers a slow, crooked smile, a glint of teeth.]
Perhaps 'twas wrong of me to think you a sweet, tender flower, a trembling virgin on the nuptial bed. ...But I did have you prepared, out of the kindness of my heart. [Letting out a loose, throaty chuckle at his own choice of words.] And your cunt was most willing to receive.
[He hums low in his throat, a sound both contemplative and appreciative, as he lets his eyes slip shut, wanting to hold onto the sense-memory of skin rasping skin and his hot, gritty tightness; the taste of forbidden fruit. The back of his neck prickles and his fingers itch, restless for something to do.]
...Was I your first?
[He asks after a while, slanting him a sideways, half-lidded look. The first to push inside, is what he means.]
[Hector looks everywhere but at Isaac, who scents his discomfort like a shark drawn to blood, damn him. A trembling virgin? He'd been married, for hell's sake!]
Your demon was.
[If Isaac wants to know the first one to breach him there, it's the truth.]
I know it means nothing to you, but...I don't spread my legs for anyone who asks.
['So stop trying to get yourself killed?' 'Let us work together?' 'Shut up and lay beside me so we can stop freezing to death in this damned cave?' He doesn't know how to end the thought, so he stops there and just lays down, turning his back to Isaac. There, conversation over....right? They both need to rest before the sun rises.]
[Bitter triumph swells inside him, a feeling almost too big for his chest. It's something, having beaten out men and monsters for Hector's flesh - the best part, many would say. Even if he wasn't the first to burn his fingertips into his skin, or the first to kiss him and to know his taste. He'd take his victories where they came.]
How fortunate for you, then.
[He says to Hector's back, choosing not to interpret his body language in the way he suspects it's meant to be taken. Hector can escape the strain of sustained eye contact, but the conversation isn't over, only temporarily put on hold while he considers the gentle curve of Hector's spine, the rise and fall of his side. Considers the faith Hector still has in their truce and his own ability to honour it.]
You would not have been able to keep a secret of it, if you did.
[Or it doesn't seem possible anyway, as far as life in the castle was concerned. Demons talked, the walls had ears.
And Isaac had been listening closely, sifting through rumours and lies for what he hoped - and at times, dreaded - was true.]
[Most of the creatures in the castle would have been inclined to eat Hector during or after sex, so he’d wisely kept to himself.
It’s only after Rosaly that he craves the warmth of skin pressed against his, to stave off the loneliness he’d never let himself acknowledge when he’d been at the castle.]
You’re worse than a gossiping old maid. Go to sleep.
[He’d certainly heard the whispers of what Isaac did to his demons at the castle, and he’s pointedly trying to not think of it. The harder he tries to ignore it, the more pervasive the thoughts become. His body remembers the shuddering pleasure of Abel’s tongue, the overpowering sensation of surrendering to Isaac and letting himself be thoroughly used.
His whole body is tense and cold and frustrated, and the relief of sleep refuses to come to him.]
[It will seem, for a while, that he's willing to think about closing his eyes too; Hector is reluctant to engage and the night isn't getting any younger. He tires of watching him and eases himself down over the rocks that jut from the floor like broken teeth. There's no way to settle without them digging into his ribs - and from the line of Hector's back, resembling a drawn, quivering bowstring, it's not hard to tell that the discomfort is mutual.]
...I am, am I?
[He doesn't care if Hector answers him this time, much in the same way he stops caring altogether when he shifts over and tucks himself into Hector, seeking heat and the familiarity of his angles and edges, seeking Hector's softness where he's just beginning to harden. An arm snakes around his waist, dipping to palm Hector through the leather of his pants and squeeze. It's meant to hurt - not fiercely, but enough for the hitch in his lungs he hopes to hear, and for Hector to listen, when his hot, feathering breath finds the shell of his ear.]
...Had anyone had you in that castle, of or against your will, I'd have killed them.
[The effect of his velvety growl may be spoiled somewhat by his shivering into Hector's back.]
[Hector's hip and shoulder are starting to go numb where they rest against the cold stone, and as exhausted as he is, he can't sleep.
Isaac's body heat feels scalding against his back as he closes in. The comfort is offered and immediately shattered by Isaac's hand grasping his member. He does gasp, squirming back into the hard curve of Isaac's body in an instinctive defense. He can't escape the hold.]
...this isn't a good idea...
[It's a weak protest at best. The proximity and the painful fisting of his cock has Hector's heart racing. He's been hollowed out in the wake of Rosaly's death. Isaac's possession is a warped imitation of affection, but to a starving man, even scraps will do.
He wraps his hand over Isaac's, but he doesn't force Isaac to let him go. Would Isaac have actually avenged him, had he been forced against his will? Was it the bond of their twinned powers, or a misplaced sense of ownership?
Does it matter, or is Hector broken enough and sick enough not to care? He presses himself harder into Isaac's chest. Isaac is a heat that is guaranteed to burn him, but the alternative is freezing.]
[Of or against Hector's will - the words turn over and over in his mind and he considers which would've been the worse way of losing Hector. But it's all a moot point, because he already lost him years ago, to that woman, of all creatures. A human who was everything he wasn't.
He feels Hector lock up against him and his hand closing around his, the urgency in it. But can't feel him the way he wants to, the touch of his skin through leather and fabric.]
...You brought this on yourself.
[But even as he says it, he's easing his grip and letting go, little by little, because the answer to the question unasked is both. There's something inside him still, some good that managed to survive this long by staying hidden, always struggling with the cold indifference of the world and his own desperate, selfish desires. He nuzzles the crook of Hector's neck and breathes him in, head swimming with the spice of his skin, with every bad idea he's ever had. But of all the many ways he's destroyed Hector and will keep hurting him, his hands as skilled in creation as they are at ruining everything they touch, the thought of shoving Hector over and pushing him into him, unwanted, must stay a thought, even if he isn't entirely sure why.
He's less sure of why it matters, whether or not Hector will think differently of him for his restraint.]
Should man lie with man as with a woman, they have committed an abomination... [he drawls, eyes closing] ...They must surely be put to death and their blood shall be upon them.
[His hand lingers where he and Hector left it, but it has gone soft, no meanness to it.]
'twas among the first passages I ever learned to read.
[Isaac's touches turn gentler, incongruous with his words. His lips touch fire to the chilled skin of Hector's neck, and he tilts his head to bare more skin to him.]
You're blameless, I'm sure.
[It's a terrible time for this, a terrible place. There are hunters on the mountain, ready to spill their blood. But within the safety of this cave, that danger is removed, remote. Abel keeps watch, and that leaves the two forgemasters free to make poor decisions.
Isaac's words steal the breath from Hector. He too was taught from the cradle that God's wrath would be upon him, the cursed child of the night. For Hector, it was because of the creatures that flocked to him. For Isaac, they must have ascribed a different source of otherness. He aches, recalling the taunts and the beatings he endured, and wondering if it had been the same for his rival.
He shifts in Isaac's arms, turning to face him.]
It doesn't have to be like that. Fire and brimstone, blood and suffering...it's not the first lie the church has told.
[He presses his lips to Isaac's, trying to imbue in his touch the ways this act between men could be tender, loving, if only they'd allow it to be.]
[He lets Hector roll over, surprised he wants to, and more surprised by the quiet hope in his words; words that seem unmeant for him, even if they're only his to hear. I was rather looking forward to the heat, he wants to say; a throwaway answer, any easy one that only skims the surface of who he is and what he believes. But somewhere along the way, it lumps like a stone in his throat, aching with the way Hector is looking at him. Isaac can only look back, lost, searching for the Hector he knows best in those eyes and the shape of his face and wondering where he's gone, and who this man is, pressing a kiss to his mouth, with Hector's lips.
He tenses. His jaw doesn't soften into it, but he doesn't push back either.
It's a slow thing, so gentle it shouldn't be happening at all. A whole other world of touch from teeth and nails, pushing and pulling. But of everything he's ever felt, it's this that hurts most, because it doesn't make sense; because he's done nothing to deserve it. And no one ever told him it could be so sweet.
On a different night, he might've scoffed. Could've laughed in Hector's face, the easiest thing to do. But something in this kindness keeps pulling at him, willing him to stay, to soak up everything Hector can offer, like a dying plant, and he feels sick. There isn't anyone like Hector - there never was and never would be. And god help them both, Hector's either teasing him or, worse, has no idea what he's doing, falling for the idea of making a human connection, or missing love so badly he'll settle for anything, anyone.
Isaac pulls away suddenly, his eyes wide and silvery, darkening as he sits up. His chest heaves. He needs air, needs out. He needs the edge of his knife slicing another scar-to-be into himself to feel right again, or the closest thing to it. But reaching for it means turning and showing his face, and he can't do it, not when it's twisting against his every effort, his breath rattling in his throat. It's his turn to show his back, his effort to end a conversation before it can even happen.]
[Isaac shrinks away from Hector’s tenderness, as Hector should have predicted he would. It’s a known behavior, though Hector doesn’t understand the complexity of the reasoning behind it.]
I could show you how it could be. [He says into Isaac’s ear, an offer likely doomed for failure.
Isaac's retreat hurts, even though Hector should have known better than to make such an advance.
The closeness, the warmth, Hector refuses to surrender. That, at least, they can grant one another. As Isaac had done a moment before, Hector twines his arms around his body and fits them together, front to back. His hand finds a more innocent purchase than Isaac’s had, settling on the hard plane of Isaac’s chest, feeling for the beat of his heart.]
Taking his eyes off Hector, turning his back. Doomed by a split second's carelessness.
He should've left Hector to sleep, should've made his own mind and left before dawn, alone. But life is full of missteps and mistakes, some more dangerous than others. Should've been stronger, fought harder.
Should've known better.
Despite how careful Hector's movements are - and maybe because they are, too, his mind given more time to tailspin over all the terrible possibilities he can think of - he feels himself flinch and go numb, paralyzed in the way he hasn't experienced since he was still a boy. It's the closest he's let anyone approach him from behind in just as long; the ones he let was because he had to, when he still occupied the lowest rungs of the castle hierarchy and he learned there was safety in keeping his head down and swallowing his rage, his pride, than in rising to a challenge he couldn't hope to beat. The only reason he thinks he hasn't driven his elbow back and into Hector, struggling away from him, is because he still can't, trapped by his own body. But it's more complicated than that. His muscles twitch with everything they can't unlearn, his heartbeat racing under Hector's hand. Would that Hector could reach inside him and tear it out, not to keep for himself but to get rid of it for good.]
Don't. [Is all he can get out through his teeth, and his voice sounds thick and shaky and wrong. Almost unrecognizable but for the anger in it. ]
[Hector loosens his embrace a little, but doesn’t release Isaac. He’s too cold and tired and Isaac’s body is the closest he’ll get to a blanket tonight.]
Shhhh. [He soothes, the way he used to do for wild animals whose wounds he wanted to draw near to heal. No more kisses, that’s fine. He won’t press further. It was a long shot anyways.]
We’re just sleeping. You can hold me if you’d rather, but neither of us need to freeze this night.
[He doesn’t have the energy to fight any more than that, and he shifts against Isaac as gently as he can, trying to find the least uncomfortable position to doze. If Isaac breaks away from him, they will both be enduring a miserable few hours until they leave the cave
In the morning, Hector will puzzle over Isaac, can make a plan to slowly acclimate him to kindness... but tonight, both his body and mind have reached their limits.]
[Isaac hisses, still so wired and helpless but to wait for the shock to ease off, wait for the moment the past lets go and he can breathe, really breathe, again.
Through the half-panic whirling through him, he does realize that Hector hasn't really moved, his hand at rest, making no demands of him. Hector never was a conqueror. But what Hector is in this moment, curved into his trembling back, quiet and warm and shushing him, is beyond him. The part of Isaac that isn't caught between bristling and wanting to jump out of his own skin would laugh a sick, sad laugh. If only he could.
Come morning, when the harsh light of day would touch down and lay their choices bare, he's sure Hector will remember Rosaly and his betrayal in fraternizing with the enemy, and in silence they'd work to forget that Hector ever dared to lay a kiss on his lips and make him feel like there was one thing still right with the world, at least for a little while.
They're both mistakes, and history would suggest that two wrongs never make a right.
But for now, for now, they're just sleeping.
And eventually, broken and folding under the strain of being on edge for so long, Isaac fades, fades, his body finally softening into Hector's chest.]
[Hector wakes, one arm asleep and every piece of him protesting a night spent on rocks, to the buzzing of the fairy's wings near his ear. The little creature points mutely at the entrance of the cave, now filling with light. 'Time to be up.'
Isaac's hair tickles against his nose, and Hector takes a moment to inhale, not wanting to begin the process of extracting himself and standing just yet. He shifts his head and his lips brush against Isaac's scalp, a press that is not quite a kiss. His fingers trail across his chest as he withdraws from the embrace, one final soft touch before the harshness that will inevitably follow when Issac awakens.
Hector rolls onto his back, groans softly, then starts to push himself up. His fairy summons up a wisp of magic to ease his aching muscles. He nods in Isaac's direction, a silent order to grant Isaac the same boon.
Being allowed those soft, stolen touches reminds Hector of his time with Rosaly. He won't turn her memory into hate. She was always the kind of person who was almost unreasonably good. She would want forgiveness, redemption for anyone, even one who had harmed her.
Hector has run his fingers across the jagged, broken pieces of Isaac, and he's not sure they are mendable. He's going to cut himself to ribbons if he tries. He's going to try. That, not the curse-driven desire to kill her killer, is what Rosaly would want of him.]
Are you awake? [He whispers. Outside of the cave, he thinks he hears movement, though it's hard to pinpoint. It is time to be up and away from this place.]
[It's not unlike him to sleep in snatches and last night was no different, shivering to half-consciousness, hazily puzzling over the heat prickling his back and deciding it's Abel before dropping off again. But only approaching dawn - something that troubles him, when he's properly awake - does a niggling sense of off-ness reach him deep enough to shake him out of whatever false sense of safety and comfort that Hector, of all people, lulled him into. He knows Abel, and flowing through its body isn't a warm breath or a single drop of blood, but the cold magic of the devil's art.
Isaac's body gives a little jerk when he wakes, staring at the same wall he fell asleep to. It's a lighter shade of gray now, like Abel's scuted hide; outside, day is breaking, but it seems neither of them are in any great hurry. He lies very still under the tingling touch to the back of his head, lies like he used to, breath bitten back and a dagger in his hand, only feigning sleep - to the shifting of fabric and flesh, his skin prickling. Hector doesn't touch him again. Instead, he feels magic wash over him, cool and calming, a leeching of pain from his muscles. The tension knotting them, however, is there to stay.
To Hector, he says nothing. But he climbs to his feet with hollow-eyed determination, not looking his way, and in a single movement answers several questions. It takes a moment for the dizziness to pass from swinging up off the ground, though when his vision steadies and the fog in his head thins, the only thing that feels real, that assures him he isn't sleeping still, is the brisk morning chill and the heaviness in his bladder. When he pisses off to the side, he neither turns away nor makes a show of it, finishing with a shake and tucking himself away before he moves to gather his weapons. He glances to the cave entrance where Hector and his fairy happen to be waiting. He'll meet his gaze sternly, with shoulders squared, fingers squeezing and unsqueezing around the hilt of his sword.
Abel rejoins him.]
Do you sense them near? [He'll duck out, squinting, into the pale, silvery light before waiting too long for an answer, meaning to get a read on their immediate surroundings himself.]
[There's a tension hanging heavy over the cave. Hector nods as Isaac joins him at the cave's entrance. He has his makeshift mace in hand.]
They're getting closer. We should go now if we want to stay ahead of them.
[He still hopes, naively, to lead them away and part without any more bloodshed. If not for Julia's presence on the mountain, he would swear that he would do them no harm; since her safety is on the line, though, he will do whatever is necessary.
Isaac is already moving, never one to slow himself down for anyone else's sake. All Hector can do is follow, keeping low and watching his step to make sure he doesn't make any noise to alert the approaching hunters.]
[They're easily drawn to Abel as it zags overhead, moths to the flame, and this time it's Isaac who strikes first, like an angry god. Shots go wide, axes slicing air - the humans struggle to keep up, disoriented. Less hunters, now, so much as men in the wrong place at the wrong moment.
It's like old times, cutting bloody swathes through the enemy with Hector at his side -- and if there's anything of Hector he feels he can trust, it's his ability to hold his own. Isaac spares only a quick glance his way until the last man has fallen - an amateur sorcerer who can't outrun his dagger - and the world around them is still again. Sunlight is just slanting through a bank of clouds, trees stirring softly. Life goes on without missing a beat, just like it always does. And the cycle of blood for blood goes unbroken.
Huffing, Isaac shoves his heel down over the corpse and bends to jerk his red, dripping knife from its back, giving it a shake before sheathing it at his boot. He finds a cross glinting in the grass on the way back and sneers at its uselessness. Not the first time the Good Lord had failed the faithful - and far from the last, he muses.]
...'twas child's play.
[Sweat gleams at his forehead and the hollow of his throat, but he looks galvanized, hard from the rush of blood and magic and restless for a challenge.]
[The hunters spot Abel, and from that moment on, any choice of quitting this place in peace is lost. Hector has the training of a warrior, and in the midst of battle, he's able to put aside feeling and focus on survival.
When the fight is won, however, and he's left holding a mace bloodied with the pulp from inside of an unfortunate hunter's cracked skull, everything comes rushing back. There is no elation like there was in fighting Isaac. He struggles to keep from vomiting.
The makeshift weapon drops from his hand and he doesn't pick it up. He takes a shaky step toward Isaac. Wild, feral, victorious Isaac, who is taunting the fallen men with no concern for the lives that had been ended.]
They didn't hurt you? [The only way through this is to compartmentalize. Focus on his ally, and leave thoughts of the enemies until he can process them. Hector can make sure Isaac is unharmed. He can do nothing more to or for the men on the ground before them.]
We should keep moving. [The sick scent of blood and death, which he'd been so accustomed to in the past, is striking him anew and turning his stomach. 'Julia is safe. Isaac is safe. We did what we had to to make that so.' If he keeps telling himself that, he can force himself to keep going, and forcibly turn his thoughts away from whether these men had familes.]
[One man's idea of slaughter is another man's entertainment, his justice. Killing can't quiet the past or give him back the life he never had in the first place - and he knows this whenever the thrill dies off, always too soon, and he goes cold again. But raising his weapon means he isn't running or forced to hide like he used to; he isn't the helpless little boy he was once, nearly dying to men just like these hunters. Humans who could look at a pathetic wreck sobbing for mercy, and see only a liar, a creature, a threat to their own. He can't forgive, and he can't forget.
So he kills, and he laughs.
Whether Julia had ever understood that, he doesn't know, and tries not to care. She could do anything she wanted to try and change Wallachia, to heal everything that was wrong with it, he thinks, but she could never change him.
His smirk falters at Hector's unsteady approach, his empty hand. Something stirs inside him, closer to wariness than worry, and he doesn't like it. Hector doesn't seem wounded, but in the same way Hector is wondering about the blood streaking his furred cloak and scant armour plating, he can't be sure. He narrows his eyes, his gaze seeking the fairy before snapping back to Hector's face.]
Then arm yourself. [He says, more a command than anything else.]
[Isaac's barked order has Hector turning away from Isaac in instinctual compliance. Isaac isn't hurt. Those men -he can't even call them hunters anymore- had had no hope of defeating him without the element of surprise and a godly amount of luck. They'd been doomed from the start.
He sees the weapon, and leaves it where it fell. He's broken every resolution he's made in his life, and he may be destined to break this too, but he can't pick up a weapon he knows he'll have to turn against his fellow men again. Demons and creatures, he will fight without question, but this murder, this slaughter...he can't repeat.
The world isn't kind enough to suffer a pacifist to live, and he knows that he'll be forced to kill again one day to defend himself. But right now, today, he can't force himself to take his bloodied mace back up.]
...I don't sense anyone else around. If we go now, we won't have need of it.
[He starts walking out of the corpse-filled copse without waiting for Isaac's answer or his scorn.]
[Isaac goes rigid, turning a look on him that could strip metal.]
Hector! [He calls out after him, his mouth shaping his name into a warning, a weapon. But it's no use; Hector's free to safely defy his authority without threat of a higher power for Isaac to report to, and there's no punishment that can stamp out this infuriating reluctance he's seen rise in Hector before. Only death could free him of it, but by then, it'd be far too late.
Hurt and disgust curls in his gut.]
You damned fool!
[The mace goes flying after Hector, narrowly missing him.
Under the curse, Isaac remembers he had said that those who didn't fight didn't deserve to live, and he feels those same words weighing heavy on the tip of his tongue. Only the thought of Julia, it seems, keeps them there.
There'd be other slayers out for their heads - he's sure of it, just as surely as he'd seek to bait them out - and they wouldn't hesitate. Because the world isn't and would never be a place where everyone could live as equals, in peace, would never be safe enough for the hunted to afford to put their conscience, if any, ahead of what Isaac considers good sense.]
Think you this is some jest? That 'tis mercy they will show you should you spare their wretched lives? [A beat.] Will you heal their wounds in hopes that they invite you to their homes for dinner?
[He makes to catch up a in a few short, aggressive strides.]
[Hector keeps walking. He's capable of just as much stubbornness as Isaac, when its something that matters.]
We won't need to face them at all if we leave. Do hunters seek out every wolf in the forest? No, they only go after the ones that threaten their lives and livelihoods. If we stay out of their way, don't draw attention to ourselves, they won't keep seeking us out.
[Every thing has its place. Hector doesn't know what remote corner of the world his is hidden in, but he can wander until he finds it. Better to be a hermit than a murderer. There is darkness inside of Hector, but it's not so deeply entrenched as to let him take lives without remorse. He could become that, with practice, and that scares him more than the thought of having to constantly hide himself away from the world.]
There will only be a handful of people that ever accept us, but the rest....we are stronger than them. We can keep out of their reach without turning to violence.
[Violence breeds only more violence, after all. More hunters will come seeking vengeance for the first. They have to break the cycle if they ever want to find peace.]
[A few words is all it takes to stop Isaac cold. He goes raw inside, his heart pounding too hard and too fast as he looks on, Hector keeping on the move.]
No!
[Growling, Isaac manages to overtake him, moving to cut him off in the same way Hector had the other night. He whirls on him, wide-eyed. The thought alone that life could come back full circle after everything he's tried to escape, that Hector would have him keep his head down and be inconspicuous, tears old wounds wide open. A savage pain that makes him want to beat Hector senseless until he remembered where and what he came from. What drove him to Dracula in the first place.
For years, I fled those beasts because I hadn't a choice--! [He snarls, despairing.] For years, I drowned in fear and helplessness, having naught but the belief that, perhaps, if only I prayed hard enough, He would listen, and would grant me protection and refuge. That He would make a place for me!
[He supposes God did, though, in a funny, fucked up sort of way. Showed him the path to a castle full of monsters and washed his hands of him.
Isaac's gaze steels over.]
...But that time has long since passed -- and I will hide in the shadows no longer so that the humans might live more comfortably!
[There needed to be something more to life than just surviving - and then, one day, Hector had shown it was possible. Hector stole his dream and made settling in seem so damn effortless that watching him thrive among humans, loving and being loved, had cut him as deeply as watching him in bed through his scrying ball.
In three short years, Hector had proven there could be hope for anyone. But not for him.]
What I am doing now, this running, is for Julia's sake. [He says through his teeth] But the moment, the very instant we are clear of this mountain pass, I will live and go as I please, and any man wanting my head will meet his death.
[A beat.]
If you love them so very much, then go to them. [Making a sweeping gesture.] Go and mingle with their kind, and leave me be.
[Better for the both of them in the short and long run, taking all the complication out of sharing the same spaces, of not knowing what he wants and what's real and what he's winning and losing by letting Hector tear down his defenses stone by stone.]
God knows you would.
[In some other land, at least, if not this one.
With a sharp twist of his heel, a whirl of his cloak, he turns back towards the path, willing Abel to move in.]
[Hector stops short as Isaac bars his way. At first he’s cold and resolved, but when Isaac starts baring his scars, his expression softens.]
Isaac....
[He doesn’t want to try to reclaim what he had with Rosaly with another. He doesn’t know what the future will look like, but... he’s not ready to abandon Isaac to the darkness. Seeing the brokenness that formed him, he can’t help but want to show Isaac the same kindness Rosaly had shown him.]
You are not helpless anymore...and neither are you alone. We could go together, and what is there to fear with the two of us to face it?
[He will take up the weapon, even if he thinks not to use it, in hopes it will help sooth some of those old wounds. He follows Isaac, not planning to let him go off on his own to take out his frustrations on more hunters.]
[Little by little, Hector talks, chips at him, until something cracks, deep inside.
Not alone.
What it could've meant to know that, have that, when he had needed it most. When riding out the brightest time in Hector's life amid the darkest part of his own, with only himself and his inner demons for company.
He blinks through a stinging blurriness and tosses his head to clear it, angrily pressing onwards.]
There is nothing I fear. [Jutting his jaw.] ...And if it is your desire to tether me now, [his voice is raw, wavering] I am warning you once, and once alone-- [Stopping, he turns to look Hector square in the eye] ...stay out of my way.
[Hector lengthens his stride to keep pace with Isaac. If the forgemaster thinks he'll be put aside by just that, he's underestimating Hector. He feigns confidence as he replies.]
Only once? Good, then I won't have to hear it again.
[He is not exactly in Isaac's way. He's at his side, where for so long, no one has stood.
'Bless you, Rosaly,' he thinks to himself. When he had stood in much the same place as Isaac, broken and alone and convinced that he was unlovable, she had accepted him. When he'd walked away, she had followed, never forcing him, but always offering him a place beside her. He'd slithered out of the darkness and she had been like the sun, at first too bright to look at, but eventually coming to be a source of light and life, vital to him. He had not even realized all she had done for him until now, seeing the lack of it in Isaac.
He can never hope to offer the same gentleness and patience as Rosaly, but even a pale reflection is better than nothing.]
I know a place in the foothills where we can camp for the night. We should be able to reach it before night falls, if we waste no more time.
['So long as you don't fight me on this, Isaac,' he means.]
[For better and for worse - depending on who is asked -, the final leg of their journey down the mountainside is as uneventful as it is long. The way is just rugged enough that slipping into thought could have dangerous consequences, and Isaac is already restless and annoyed without having to worry about watching his step, inevitably pinning that frustration onto Hector as the afternoon wears on. But in the brief moments they stop to sit and drink, he doesn't hold out on what he's been able to gather along the way; pragmatic thinking prevails and Hector is offered a hunk of hastily-seared hare meat with a non-committal grunt, then small handfuls of mushrooms or tart berries, the ones Isaac recognizes as safe.
Hector's navigational sense and familiarity with the finer details of the landscape thankfully see them through. At dark, they reach a quiet clearing nestled among evergreens, where Isaac trudges around on aching legs to help pile dry leaves and twigs together. His boots aren't fit for travel and have chafed the patch of skin above his heels raw, but at rest, he elects to leave them on.
After the day they've had, simply basking in the heat of a humble bonfire and picking at a meal of roasted lizards feels almost indulgent. He doesn't complain, doesn't say much of anything while crunching through charred skin and spitting the many little bones aside.]
[Hector finds himself pleased with the campsite. He stretches a bit of scavenged canvas above a dry patch of earth near their fire. More pine needles are gathered to spread under it to cushion them, with a dead man’s cloak spread over. It’s a humble place to lay their heads, but world better than the night before spent on cold stone.
He too shares what meager supplies he has, offering his canteen to Isaac before he drinks any of it and adding some nuts and an unfortunate squirrel to their meal.
They eat in a silence that isn’t quite companionable, but can’t be said to be hostile. Hector will take that, for now.
He strips off his boots and gives his aching feet a rub as he checks for blisters by the light of the fire. He sighs as he digs his thumbs into the weary soles.]
You’re next. [He tells Isaac. They have to keep moving tomorrow, and that means taking care of themselves tonight. Hector tries not to push too hard, knowing Isaac to be skittish about any order he gives, no matter how well-meaning. His tone, he aims for easy. ‘Of course you will accept this, no question.’]
[He pauses to wipe some hot grease off his lips onto his arm, eying him across the spitting flames. But he gives in without word, unbuckling each boot and shucking them off, half-tempted to pull away from the fire just to dip his feet into the pond behind them. Despite his familiarity making do with what the wilderness provides, he longs for the luxury of a bath, the chance to wash away blood and sweat and dirt, fresh and old, griming his skin. One of the more unusual habits he owed Dracula and the castle for instilling in him. God forbid if he had ever presented himself in the throne room a second time smelling like rank goat.
Crossing his legs, he takes up a stick and stirs the logs some, throwing another look around the clearing. It feels too open to give himself permission to fully relax; no walls to put his back up against. Were there trees of a different sort in their midst, with thicker branches and no needles, he'd consider climbing up and sleeping leaned up against the trunk, readily trading comfort for a sense of safety and a decent vantage point.]
I do hope you are prepared for the morrow. [He husks, as if Hector spent most of the trip lagging behind. And because he didn't, it's nothing more than some half-hearted attempt to make conversation.]
Mmmmmh. [Hector hums noncommittally as he moves to sit near Isaac’s feet. He draws the first one up onto his thigh and begins to rub the sole. The initial pass is to examine and find the tender places for his fairy to patch up. Once the chafed skin is healed and whole, he presses his thumbs in deeper to massage the muscles.
He’ll wash up in the morning before they leave here, when having wet skin and wet hair will not doom him to a cold night. It might even feel nice despite the cool weather, depending on how grueling a pace they set tomorrow.]
Have you decided where you will go?
[He keeps his eyes downward, focused on the pale foot in his hands, purposely casual and non-threatening. It’s a tenuous alliance, and Hector has to be careful with how he proceeds.]
I know of some islands to the south. Warm clime, secluded, where people look to their own affairs, not to anyone else’s.
[He releases the first foot and draws up the second to repeat his ministrations.]
[The second Hector's hands land, gently manipulating skin and muscle, he questions why he agreed to this. To be fair, it's not unpleasant: the kneading and pressure are well-tolerated, a good sort of tingly soreness; but it's the ease with which Hector persists in helping unasked that's a hard thing to wrap his head around. A muscle flexes in his cheek, but he doesn't yank his foot away. Or offer it, either.]
You'd have made a passable servant in the castle, with your pretty mouth alone. [He muses, pointedly ignoring the question.] I have a little itch.
[It's his way of feeling out where Hector's boundaries lie while wondering what he gets out of this at all, what his angle is. There has to be something, his cynicism reminds him, or he wouldn't be so willing. If Hector looks like he's taken the hint and is moving to service him, he'll offer a stern, quiet 'no' and turn his hand or his face away in refusal, whichever is closest.]
I've heard rumours of new lands far to the West, over the water.
[Isaac says, eventually, not sounding particularly committed as he's never given the specifics serious thought. What other places may hold for him won't be much better, if at all, he suspects. But he'll settle for different, whatever that might look like. A new world and all its trappings, all its pleasures and disappointments.]
[He raises his head and arches an eyebrow at Isaac. Trying to build this alliance does not mean the death of his sass.]
I would have made a very poor servant, for by your word, you would have killed anyone I served.
[He does not give in to the goading, though, if he is honest with himself, he would not be opposed to taking Isaac's cock in his mouth again, or feeling Isaac's fingers grasp tight in his hair and forcing Hector's mouth around his cock. His own perversions, he will have to put aside. If he is to have any hope of getting through to Isaac, he can only reach out with gentle, innocent touches. For anything more, he must be still, and let Isaac come to him, if he wills it.]
It would be a long way by boat to reach those lands. Have you sailed on the open ocean before?
[He finishes with the massage and stops himself before he's tempted to move from weary feet to shapely ankles, where he could trace inked lines further up where they disappear into tight leather. He leans back on his hands.]
[Isaac stares into the flames, light and shadow dancing across his face.]
I was never so fortunate as to have the means.
[All his life experience is based on land, with many of his years spent in a small house tucked in the woods not far from Cordova, when it was thrived, once upon a time; The rest was in and around the castle, where what he knows of sea travel was gleaned from many maps and books in the library. He's aware that for everything he has learned as an alchemist and a general, a survivalist and weaponsmith, there are many gaps in his knowledge, so much of the world and its workings left untouched and untasted.
Maybe in a different life, a different time, he and Julia could've sought their luck out on the open water, stailing from island to island in search of home - a real home.
He snorts wryly, drifting back to reality.]
'twas not until my eleventh year when I had even set foot in a town, never mind a boat. [He can still remember what it was like, keeping to the shadows, queasy with fear and excitement.]
...And then I had only a good look about for a night or two, before my curiosity was met with swift punishment.
[Each glimpse Isaac offers of his past makes Hector ache. It's a light shone on darkness that helps explain some of the shadows he casts. He dares not delve further for fear of unveiling truths that Isaac would rather keep hidden.]
My father studied alchemy, and he dragged my mother and I along behind him as he traveled to learn more. I hated the towns. The children threw rocks at me, and the old women crossed themselves when I passed by.
[They'd recognized an otherness in him and rejected it instinctively. Hector drudges up the old memories, not to compare with Isaac's, but to meet his honesty and the vulnerability that comes of it with the same.]
We did take a boat a time or two before we...parted ways. I remember enough of it. I should be able to prepare us for the journey, if you wish to take it.
[To fully cross the sea, they will need to book passage on a vessel, but to see them a shorter distance, he thinks he could manage.]
[It's a little funny to think that for all the time they've shared one another's company, they've never really scratched the surface of each other, never spoken frankly, one man to another. Isaac had studied him at every opportunity, jealousy and lust and curiosity eating him alive, but there was only so much he could learn from fighting with and against him, from memorizing movements, mannerisms. Competition had kept them fierce, and surely if the Dark Lord had caught wind of something deep and meaningful taking root, either he or the castle would've found some way of twisting it, turning it against them.
He listens, expressionless. It's hard to know what's worse: to be let in someplace but scorned by the company one kept, or to be shut out forever. Either way, no good ever comes of a child who grows up feeling hated, isolated, and the something approaching sympathy softens the rougher edges of his voice when he finally answers.]
I shall think on it. [Though the answer is closer to a yes than it isn't, it seems unwise to decide on a impulse, much less when tired, and when sleep has a way of putting things into perspective.] I take it that you will regardless? Bound for 'warmer climes'?
[Hector looks to the fire, pleased in spite of past pains remembered. He and Isaac have always been connected. That they can recognize their reflections in one another gives Hector hope that he might be let in further.]
All else being equal, I would like that. I was born further south, and I have no love for snow or ice.
[He has survived the harsh winters in the mountains, and if Isaac chooses to lead him somewhere cold, he will bear it. He hopes for warmth, though. One of the few things he remembers fondly from Dracula’s keep was the ingenious devices that could heat the castle all year round.]
Nor do I. [Like Hector, he could endure it out of necessity, but he'd hate every minute just as much, cursing the cold and burying into Iyeti's thick fur when he could.]
A forgemaster on a boat... [Chuckling grimly, he tosses a twig into the fire with a careless flick of his wrist.
A log snaps, spitting sparks.]
...It resembles the beginnings of a joke.
[It also does seem like a cruel form of torture for restless men like himself, being cooped up on some vessel for long stretches of time with little to do other than to stretch his legs and look around, or fish. For better or for worse, he wouldn't drown instantly if a little boat capsized. He learned how to keep his head above the water thanks to a then-terrifying trial resulting in being pushed into a pool teeming with mermen, but swimming gracefully is a whole other story. ]
I would have you try a short voyage before committing to crossing the ocean, else the punchline might be ‘and he spent the entire trip vomiting over the rails.’
[Hector is blessed with a strong stomach, but in those youthful travels, he’d seen the meek and the mighty alike brought low from seasickness. A miserable trip would be made absolutely hellish if Isaac be one of that number who cannot stomach the waves.]
If we were to make for the new world, we would have to book passage on a larger vessel, with a crew that knows how to navigate the open waters. You’d have to play nice.
[Or else the joke would end with them overboard or on a boat filled with corpses and no idea how to get themselves to their destination.]
Ha. [He can only sneer at the idea of being diplomatic and pleasant when their company wouldn't necessarily extend the same courtesy. What Hector's asking isn't an impossible task, but it'd take everything he has to tamp down his darker urges -- assuming he'd make it within thirty feet of any docked vessel without his look alone raising alarms the way it always has.]
How bold of you to assume I would be welcome to board in the first place.
[He lets that hang in the air, thinking. Then he huffs to himself, as if remembering an old, bitter joke.]
...But a few months ago, you had wanted my head on a pike, and now, you would have us ... elope, [he says, with a mocking toss of his head] ...like forbidden lovers.
[It's still running away no matter how he looks at it, a cop-out, instead of standing his ground like he should and viciously defending his right to exist in his homeland, at any cost. But maybe there's something to this silly little idea they're tossing around. Maybe, with Julia's safety secured, he'd be able to find something else worth staying alive for while out at sea, another reason to keep pushing forward. Or maybe he's too muzzy-headed to think straight and Hector is wearing him down, rubbing off on him.
Scoffing, he half-turns from the bonfire and lies back in the grass, settling. The air is cool, tinged with the bitter hint of smoke; he pulls it deep into his lungs, stretching to the gentle popping of joints and ligaments. It's a nice night - clear and calm, the sky spattered with the same constellations Julia could see if she were out right now, looking heavenward for guidance. But like all nice things, it wouldn't last forever.]
Edited 2019-08-21 01:59 (UTC)
Only with chairs so it doesn't break the game, sheesh
Gold will open most doors. If there's one vice that outweighs fear, it's greed.
[It's not an optimistic view of humanity, but it's true. So long as they can pay for their passage and they keep from being openly hostile, Hector thinks they could manage the journey with relative ease.]
A few months ago, we were both under the thrall of the curse. Neither of us were fully in control of our actions.
[He ignores the gibe about elopement. They are, in some sense, lovers. They have known each other carnally. And if Hector has his way, they will be going off together, so Hector can protect Isaac. He's not going to make light of the situation the way Isaac does.]
Do you want to sleep first? I can take first watch.
[He makes the offer stiffly. He made a bed for them in their makeshift camp, and here Isaac is lying on the grass instead. Endlessly vexing, this red-headed demon. Still, Hector is bound to him, and will see to it that he can rest without worry of any intruders.]
[A thought sticks like a quill in his brain and, suddenly, he's more awake than he's been the entire night.]
...What if I knew very well what it was I was doing?
[He asks, while absently thumbing a scar seaming his belly. There's a pause, then, like he's hoping Hector to weigh in, to struggle to prove otherwise and realize he can't.]
With every passing day I watched you from afar... [he wets his lips, dreamily musing aloud] ...I would conjure up novel ways of torturing you within an inch of your life, only to heal your wounds and start anew. I wondered how long I could keep you alive before you broke in my hands like a child's toy and could no longer recognize yourself in the mirror. Do you know how very long I contemplated taking you by force well before the curse fed my deepest, blackest desires?
[He laughs to himself, though his smile doesn't reach his eyes.]
You said it yourself: you know not what it is I'm capable of. Who is to say I would not leave you adrift, were disaster to strike? 'tis in my means to teleport, after all. You, on the other hand... would be utterly helpless.
[The devil take Isaac, Hector does not have energy for this. Isaac can't but see a healing wound without poking it at to make it bleed once more.]
Yet you only acted when the curse fell upon you, not before.
[He has to laugh as well, a single bitter bark, devoid of humor.]
Gods, Isaac, do you think I have not thought of murder, of violence, of taking what I want by force? I have heard voices in my head, willing me to evil since I was a child! I have done everything in my power to quiet them, but still, still I hear their whispers. But it matters not what evil thoughts come, so long as they stay thoughts and nothing more.
[He has to believe Isaac can overcome his dark impulses, because he believes himself capable of it. He balls his fists, wills his heart and his breaths to calm.]
And no, I know not what you would do, if we were faced with crisis. We will find out when it happens. But I have not proven myself without resource, and if I find myself alone, it will not be helpless. Now, first watch or second? If you aren't going to sleep, I am.
[They've been here before, Hector wanting to kill a conversation and Isaac too stubborn to let it die. Where the rare surge of emotion might have stirred pity in a gentler heart, all Isaac sees in the moment is an opening, smelling blood and hungry for his fill. All he sees is a man defanged and declawed, a fate that, to him, seems worse than death. Far worse.]
We. [He echoes, a mocking note sharp in his voice. It looms between them with all the weight of a death sentence.] ...Ever since I fucked you, you've clung to me like a burr. No fool am I, Hector - do not think I know not from whence comes this... [his nose wrinkles] ...sentiment.
[He pushes off the ground to sit upright, his chest heaving deeply. There's air all around him but it's not enough, his lungs feeling tight.]
The only reason you turn to me now is naught but pure desperation. [It's a word he spits into Hector's face like a hot piece of food.] You have nothing and no one, so you scrabble for what precious pity scraps this life has to offer -- even I, the lesser, the spare, a non-entity in the three years you wallowed in paradise.
[Eyes piercing, shiny-wet, his lips curve into a sliver of a smile that could cut steel.]
Were you in your right mind, you'd never forgive yourself for lying with me, for spitting on your woman's memory... and that burning shame would haunt you for the rest of your days.
How I choose to make peace with my wife is none of your concern.
[He is trying to be open, to be patient, but he can't about this. His words are cold, meant to be the final ones he'll speak on the subject. Isaac shall not speak of Rosaly to him, not without consequence.]
I am not here for want of options. I am here because I choose to be. I have no intention of celibacy, but if you dislike my 'sentiment', I need not fulfill those needs with you.
[If Isaac wants to dig into his flaws, Hector can respond in kind. Green-eyed envy is the devil that sits on Isaac's shoulder, jealous and violently possessive. Hector makes a clumsy jab at it.]
Would you have me find a new lover? I could, easily enough. I don't drive people away like you do. Maybe it would put you in a better mood if I did. You could sulk in the shadows and spy with your magic while we fuck, just like old times.
[Hector's gone for the throat and he's gashed him open, far too easily.
Isaac's eyes goes wide and blank and stricken, blood slamming his eardrums --
-- and in his hiving thoughts he sees himself reaching out to snap Hector's neck in a single, decisive jerk of his hands. No more torment; no more doubts. And with his death, a return to what has always been: misery, but at least, he knows what to expect and where he stands, a cold comfort found in that predictability.
There's a sense of purpose in the set of his jaw, when he rips his knife from its sheath at his boot and holds the point inches from Hector's throat. Only his hand won't follow through. It shakes and shakes for a minute, Isaac's lips hard and white as he fights it and fights against it, a vein throbbing hard in his temple.]
Look me in the eye -- [he seethes, spit frothing through his teeth] -- and tell me this is no ruse! Tell me this show of camaraderie is not your revenge!
[His face tightens as desperation gains momentum with nowhere to go, and for a moment, he's dangerously close to tears.]
You have ruined me once and you will not live to do it again - I swear it. Should you lie to me now, I will run you through your heart where you sit.
[There's a knife at his throat, but it's not the first time, and Hector meets Isaac's wild gaze without wavering.]
I've never been one for farce, and my quest for revenge has come and passed. My companionship, I offer freely. You can accept it or no.
[He leans forward a little, putting his neck dangerously close to the blade.]
Do not speak of her again. That is what I ask of you. If you do but that...then I will stay by your side.
[Hector isn't sure what it is that Isaac wants from him; he runs hot and cold like a feral cat, hissing one minute and demanding attention the next. Hector's willing to learn, though, if it can bring some peace to those wild, pained eyes.]
[Tunneled vision, the deafening rush of air in and out his lungs -- it's like being sucked under the curse all over again, watching everything unfold from someplace deep in the back of his mind. Watching Hector dare to lean towards the sharp, trembling point of his knife, trusting Isaac more, maybe, than he does himself. His control is slipping, fingers squeezing the hilt so hard he barely feels them.
Why he's even searching Hector's face at all for something that goes against his conditioning, against all the coldness and ruthlessness that kept him alive, he doesn't know. No good has ever come of letting his heart want what it wants, or placing his faith in anything other than himself and his devils - and he can't promise Hector he wouldn't speak Rosaly's name again, just like he's sure Hector couldn't promise him that he'd never run away, run towards a brighter future, a prettier face. Better to strangle any hope left in his heart while it's was still so young, too frail to thrash as violently.
At least, if he expected nothing, he'd never know disappointment.
Isaac blinks, shoulders dropping. His ears are still ringing when he growls and finally wrenches the knife away, staring hazily at it in his hand. His demons clamor for blood - and if they can't have Hector's, they'll settle for his, when he'd be alone with them.]
[Hector watches the struggle in Isaac's face before he finally lowers the knife. It's not unexpected, but it is a relief to see the blade move away from him.
He reaches out slowly to touch Isaac's shoulder, a confirmation of their nearness. It's a brief touch; he is trying not to overstep while navigating these uncharted waters.]
I do not lie. Tomorrow, where you go, I'll follow. For now, we both need rest.
[One night of restless sleep is unfortunate; two in a row is a curse. He blames Hector and their traveling arrangement in the hours he's left brooding until dawn, whittling animals and gargoyles and sharpening the end of a walking stick until sunlight breaks through the trees. By then the pond sprawling across them is slightly warmer - at surface-level, at least - and a little more conducive to peeling off his layers and rinsing off before they breakfast and set out. Abel guards his belongings, looking on as he braves the chill the way he knows best - throwing himself in and thrashing to move his sluggish blood around. It's much less pleasant than he was hoping for and exactly what he was expecting, all at once - but the shock brings on an immediate sense of clear-headedness and vigor, at least. He bobs up for air, parting the wet curtain of his hair for a look around. A fish darts past his leg, tail kicking up a swirl of sand.]
[Hector, for his part, sleeps as well as can be expected, given the circumstances. Their camp is a far cry from his bed in Julia’s cabin, but it’s better than the cave, and no worse than what Hector is accustomed to when traveling.
He decides to join Isaac for a quick swim in the pond. He strips and wades in, shuddering at the bracing chill of the water.
When he gets waist-deep, he ducks under and pops back up, shaking the water out of his hair like a dog. Gooseflesh prickles his arms.]
Gods, that’s cold. Summer can’t come soon enough.
[Hector is generally comfortable in the water, having learned to swim in his youth, but there will be no lingering to paddle around today. A quick in and out to wash, unless the two of them want to catch their deaths.
After everything they’ve been through, that would be an anticlimactic way to go.]
Awake at last... [He muses when Hector splashes in, mildly surprised he's gone for more than washing his face. Pausing, Isaac lets his gaze slide down his body, a look no detail can escape, one that lays claim to every inch yet unexplored by his touch. Then it strays with a sudden rippling in the water: more curious fish all but begging to end up their first meal of the day.]
Burning pits, lakes of fire... [he plunges his arms in after a one, scoffing when it slips from his grasp.] ...Hell hardly seems so wretched a place.
[Glancing up at him through his lashes:] 'Warmer climes', indeed.
[Hector's not expecting the scrutiny Isaac directs toward him. It's nothing he hasn't seen...well, Hector didn't undress last time, but he's seen enough to satisfy idle curiosity, right?
The breeze makes it colder having his dripping body out of the water than in, so he lets himself sink lower, to his shoulders. It helps him think, being more hidden from Isaac's predatory gaze.]
It's a bit early in the day for Hell. I was thinking Greece, or the islands off of the Ottoman Empire to start.
[He runs his hands over his limbs beneath the water, scrubbing away any dust and grime still stubbornly clinging. Hopefully the movement will keep the fish away. He's not quick enough to catch one by hand, so until he goes back to the shore for some tool or another, they're safe from capture by him. A quick wash, and they can be back to store to dry off and warm up. Isaac's been in longer than Hector has; he's not sure how the man's not a block of ice yet.]
[Sheer stubborn will - if only to prove he isn't as weak to the chill as he is - is the answer; but even Isaac, at his fiercest, can only hold out so long and fail at a few more bare-handed attempts at trapping fish before he swallows his pride and wades back to shore, leaving Hector to finish on his own. He plucks his cloak from the heap of his clothes, briskly drying his hair with the inside and throwing it on before moving to sit on a flatter, sun-warmed rock, watching while he shivers. Spear-fishing could wait until he wasn't as miserable as a wet cat.]
Hell of a different sort, perhaps. [He wrinkles his nose.] Although were my travels to take me in that particular direction, I suppose I would stop to taste of those cheeses unique to the Greeks.
[There are few things he misses of the castle, but one is the easy access to foods and flavours he had never been exposed to otherwise, a privilege enjoyed after climbing the ranks and becoming someone of import. In some ways, he's a man of simple needs, and a fine cheese always paired well with wine and casual violence.]
[Hector gives the rest of his body a perfunctory scrub to wash away the last of the blood, sweat, and come. He dunks under one more time, combing his fingers through his hair to undo the worst of the tangles before he swims back to shore.]
Gods, I would go to Hell itself for a good Greek cheese right now. You can’t tease me with Greek cuisine if we’re not going. It’s been far too long.
[He spent a few years in that area and living off of the simple Romanian peasants fare after that has been a trial.
And great, now he is cold and starving. He uses his shirt as a towel and dries himself quickly. It’s never graceful to shimmy into his leather pants while he’s still damp, but he does it.
He sprawls beside Isaac, barefoot and bare chested.]
Is there anything else you want to sample?
[A food tour is as good of a starting point as any for their travels.]
hector and isaac then start a food-reviewing youtube channel
[Hector's choice of words, as he lies back and suns himself, pulls Isaac's lips into a crooked little half-smirk for a brief moment; and again, looking down at him with hunger of a different sort, he can only admire the hard planes and ridges of a body that has not known idleness.]
I shall know when I see it. [He dries his nose with a swipe of his knuckles, sniffing.] Though what I fancy at this very moment is a cut of slanina alongside fresh-baked bread, olives, and a crisp, sweet onion.
[It's the simple things, all the classic finger foods that could constitute an entire meal on its own, that he craves most. But they'd have to make do with what they could get living off the land - at least until the opportunity to put stealth and swift reflexes to good use presented itself. It's too late in life to feel any shame for stealing when he's already broken more than his fair share of commandments.]
...Would that we should soon happen upon a traveling merchant in need of being relieved of his goods.
Edited (LAST EDIT I SWEAR) 2019-08-28 05:44 (UTC)
Bone Appetit, They'll review food that's to die for.
[Hector closes his eyes as he suns himself, so he misses Isaac's hungry look. He groans at the mention of meat and bread. It's not fair to speak of such things when they have nothing with which to sate themselves.]
Well, our options are fish or what flora we can forage. We'll pick up supplies when we reach a town.
[He snorts at Isaac's aspirations of highway robbery.]
We will buy or trade for what we need. There's no need to steal and draw more attention. Do you have any coin on you? If not, we will stop and hunt for something to barter with before we reach civilization.
[Hector hadn't been expecting to flee when he'd left Julia's house the day before, so he didn't bring his coin purse with him. He's hoping Isaac is more prepared than he, but if not, they will make do in a way that doesn't involve thievery and/or murder.]
[He nudges him lightly in the ribs with his foot, no playfulness to it.]
You vastly overestimate how very willing most humans are to have me stand in their presence, let alone do business with me, regardless of what I carry in my coin purse. You and your pretty face, on the other hand...
[The thought is left hanging bitterly. Unfinished, but needing no elaboration.
To no surprise, maybe, he hasn't tried making contact with others for the purpose of trading more than once or twice after being terrorized as a child, finding it much easier to take what he wants. It's part of the reason why he doesn't often have money on him; the other half being that he had sought Hector out at the base of the mountain for a fight he hadn't expected -- or hoped -- to see his way out of.]
Indeed -- [it's his turn to snort, answering with biting sarcasm] ...should fish and furs not satisfy, then perhaps you can utilize your titillating powers of seduction to win the favour of the barterer.
[Hector grunts as Isaac's icy foot prods him, and he cracks open his eyes to scowl at him.]
You've got a pretty face too. You have to know that. If you didn't act like a fox come into the hen house when you walked among them, they wouldn't flee from your presence.
[He's defensive, having been kicked and teased. His plan is a fine one, and it could work if Isaac let them give it a shot. He rubs the spot at his side where Isaac's toes had touched, trying to warm it with friction.]
I won your favour. Who's to say I couldn't do it?
[Isaac had been satisfied by him, had he not? He can shove his sarcasm. Hector's not going to fuck someone else, but he bristles at the implication that he couldn't.]
Please. [The word twists his face into a snarl the equivalent of fuck you.] And I suppose when I was but a child I was still the fox in the henhouse?
[Only monsters and apprentices of Satan were said to have red hair; he had sawed off clumps of it with a knife, once, when he was young, distraught when it grew in the same, fiercely and stubbornly red, as unchangeable as his eyes. But of the few things in life he's made peace with over time, his appearance is one of them, having become both his weapon and his armour with every drop of ink scratched into him and cold metal bead pushed through his skin.]
You give yourself far too much credit. My desire of you flesh came of no wily persuasion of your own. You simply happened to exist in my presence at a time when I hungered for more than demon cunt. Or do you mean to tell me you've studied under succubi and incubi [he sweeps his hands through the air, fingers fanned out] and cast some manner of spell on me without my knowing?
[What Isaac learned of sex, or at least, of pleasure, of lubricants, and clever turns of his wrist and angles of penetration, was from those creatures mocking his clumsy roughness and his ignorance, when he first lay with them. Devil only knows how many cambions he helped spawn in his time.]
[Hector is trying, really he is, but he just does not have within him the wells of patience Rosaly had possessed. He's cold and tired and hungry, and every step in this dance with Isaac seems to lead him into a pit trap.
He wants to believe that if he pressed his body into Isaac's and asked Isaac to fill him, to warm them both up, that Isaac would oblige him. The truth, Isaac's indifference about what hole he fucks, the lack of a connection he feels between them, is a resounding slap to the face.
What is Hector even trying to do? He doesn't know at this point.
He pushes himself up off of the rocks and stands.]
Fine. If you want to stay here and fuck your demons and never walk among humans again, do it. Stay here. I'll go into town by myself and get what we need.
[He pulls his damp tunic on and takes his boots in hand so he can start walking away. Anger is outweighing practicality, so he'll go without them until he's out of Isaac's sight.]
[Isaac looks on, watching Hector put more and more distance between them.
Only this time he makes no attempt to follow, despite the urge to break his jaw over the accusation of devil-fucking. His inner demons sneer in triumph, promising him their parting can only be for the best. That anything is preferable to following Hector like a hungry stray and apologizing by way of caving and telling him what he wants to hear, affirming just how consumed he was by him and his desire, how Hector was once at the centre of his world and everything in it. Better to drive him away now than risk knowing the sting of his betrayal later, the voices whisper; no one could hurt him if he were alone.
He tugs on his leather pants with some struggle and takes up his walking stick, watching and waiting and plunging at the stillness of the pond until he manages to gouge a fish. He then fillets it with a few deft, economical cuts of his knife, lightly searing it in his hands and tearing chunks out of it half-raw.
He misses the easiness of casual sex. No attachments, no trust, or entangling emotions, the entire experience boiling down to the simple fulfillment of a need. Just another hit of adrenaline before the next came around.
Of course, a man who knew love for three good years would surely never understand it, he thinks. Just as a man who could waltz into town without most humans batting an eyelash before he opened his mouth would understand what it's like to live on the other side. So he decides he won't wait for Hector's return, wandering off in no particular hurry with a theory to test and more energy and anger to burn off than he knows what to do with. To the first people he comes across, he'll throw off his hood and announce his peaceful intentions -- and whatever comes of it, all he knows is he wouldn't walk away from the exchange empty-handed.]
[The first hour of Hector's hike sees his anger simmer into a boil. He makes great time, powered by nothing but pure ire.
His fairy, flying after him with wings flitting too quickly to see, finally points out a rabbit hiding beneath a line of bushes. Hector stops, and though he has no tools with which to hunt, between himself, his fairy, and his dark necromatic powers, he manages to catch the damned thing.
That little moment of victory breaks his foul mood, and he takes a moment to forage. A few berries and sprouts have him feeling human again, though certainly not sated.]
I'm a damned fool to let him bate me. I have to be better than that. [He tells the fairy, who nods in a mimicry of a human response, but without an understanding of what it means.
He uses some vines to tie the rabbit's legs together and swings it into his back. It's something to barter, much as he'd like to stop and eat it himself.
It takes a good part of the day to reach the little town he was aiming for, and a couple of hours trading, doing odd jobs, and going through the delicate song and dance of healing peasants with his concealed fairy, and convincing them both that it was not witchcraft, but it it was a service to be paid for. Knowledge from his years with Rosaly, who made real medicines, gives some verisimilitude to the sham poultices he throws together out of grasses and mud he gathered along the way here.
It's near dark when he finally trudges back to the campsite where he'd left Isaac that morning. He comes bearing peace offerings- a slab of slanina and a little loaf of coarse bread, in addition to the more practical rations of hard tack and dried fish.]
Isaac?
[He calls out quietly, when he reaches the clearing and doesn't see the other forgemaster right away.]
[A few tillers are still working the fields in the light of the dying day when Isaac comes up the path, bare-handed and devil-less, approaching their small town with a dead hare tied by its ears to a line and slung over one shoulder. Leaning on their shovels and hoes, several stop to watch, vigorously crossing themselves.
He can feel them whispering. Feel them staring, nudging chins in his direction.
And as though word of his arrival has already reached the town proper, he is stopped short of entering by men with wary looks and crossbows of familiar make turned on him, loaded with stakes. A few kids crane their necks and gawk at him before their mothers yank them away.
He's just a traveler on a mission to trade for a block of cheese, but no one believes it. Or those who dare to entertain the possibility decide the meat is surely tainted in some way. What is up for debate is what he's supposed to be, standing unburnt in the setting sun. A werewolf or a witch or a demon. The same possibilities pass between their lips, every suggestion a tired joke that still pulls a chuckle out of him because it's funny, being a monster to so many people he's never met and whose lives he's never personally touched, an apprentice to the devil long before he laid eyes on the books and scrolls on devil forging; but to the monsters, the things lurking in every corner of the castle, he was still too human. Human flesh was human flesh. Though brutal training and mastery of the devil's art had toughened him, nothing he was willing to do or have done to him could rid him of that human weakness. He never wanted to live forever, anyway; living a mortal life, day by day, was hard enough.
The tension in the air breaks, suddenly, like a thin crust of ice over a lake snapping underfoot, when he holds out his catch for the town's hunters' consideration. One fires at point-blank range - and from the shifting stances and the questioning looks some throw the shooter, the interrogation wasn't meant to end like this, not before knowing where Isaac came from and if there were others like him, lying in wait. But there's no taking it back. So they just watch as Isaac staggers a half-step back with a stake in his ribs, listening for the death-screech or for the hellflames that spawned him to split the ground and rush up to reclaim him. He refuses to die. He croaks and gasps harshly but stays upright, the stricken blankness to his face melting away as a snarl peels his lips back. Another stake punches into him, a third and fourth and a fifth flying for the trees as he dissolves into thin air, leaving the hare carcass and glittering, mote-like traces of magic behind. Wide-eyed, the men swing around in search of him. By the time one points Isaac out on the steepled roof of their chapel, standing tall, sword in hand, like a god on judgment day, there's a black dragon with him, its fanning, leathery wings blocking the sun. It turns its gaping mouth towards them, the back of its throat glowing brighter, brighter, with the flames curling up into its throat. Crossbows twang and snap, stakes disintegrating in the burning blast Crimson sends their way. Townspeople scream, pushing and trampling each other as the devil dives at them, breathing swathes of fire across the street. Market stalls take flame, crackling, collapsing. A child drops a wooden doll, wailing after it as she's carried off in her father's arms.
He knew this would happen.
He knew it.
So he lets himself stay and basks, hollow-eyed, in the glow of his destruction - the only consolation there is for the bad choice that led to this. And when his vision swims and breath thickens with blood, he trusts the fire to do its work and escapes, not wanting to give the humans the satisfaction of seeing him die a miserable death. His magic whisks him and Crimson off to the furthest place his clouding focus and flagging strength of will can muster - a cave not too far from the clearing. It's dark and cool and still. Peaceful, almost. Wrapped up in his cloak over the wet, craggy floor, he sends Crimson off in search of life to drain and to feed him with on its return -- a little healing to take the edge off. As many trips as it'd need to make until he'd feel well enough to sit up - and eventually, he thinks, well enough to teleport to the abandoned castle that roofed him not long ago.
Back to a simpler time, when Hector hadn't reached out and Isaac hadn't sought him yet either, and the most promising thing to life had seemed to be the prospect of ending it.]
[There is no answer to Hector's call, and no warm glow of a fire or any other signs of life in the clearing. Well, if Isaac decided to abscond, Hector wouldn't expect him to leave any traces.
He could let him go peacefully into the night, accept their parting of ways as the inevitable conclusion of two diametrically opposed men. He could...
...but he won't. There's too much left unsaid between them. Hector wants to share the meal he worked for, the one that Isaac had said he wanted. Even if Isaac leaves after, Hector doesn't want to move into whatever life brings him with the regret of missing that moment.
The bond has been a piece of him since they both came to Dracula's castle. For the first time, Hector reaches out to it and pulls.
The manipulation of the bond points him in the right direction, and he follows. He expects he will have to chase Isaac down, over miles and days to give him his damned slanina, but the unseen trail ends not far away, in a cave mostly concealed with overgrowth.]
Did you change your mind about leaving?
[He interjects as he stoops to duck inside the cave. Why else would he still be so nearby after nearly a full day?
Then he sees the shape in the darkness.]
Fuck, what happened to you?
[He is by Isaac's side in an instant, running his hands over the shivering body to help assess what his eyes can't see in the darkness. The smell of blood and smoke drifts heavy in the air.
It hasn't been practical to fuel his fairy's magic through enemy blood since the curse ended, so Hector channels his own power into the creature so that it can cast more than the minor acts of healing it has done recently.]
Be still, let me help you... [He murmurs, just to say something.]
[There's a sudden movement, a sound - rocks shifting and loosening, skittering over other rocks. Whatever it is, human or animal or something in between, it isn't Crimson, he knows that much. His demons have quieted down, dimly whispering to him, warning him that someone's finally come to finish what they started. Maybe with a knife, or another sharpened stake, or even hammer in hand to drive in what Isaac hasn't wrenched out yet. But Hector's voice is one he could place anywhere and he doesn't know what he feels, lying there, other than cold and soaked in shock-sweat, starved for air he can't pull enough of into his lungs. He laughs, still, when he senses Hector's closeness, his skin prickling with his magic: a soft, hoarse cackling.]
It was never tainted. [He rasps.] But I could have done it so very easily... and I'd have stayed to watch them choke... on their own blood.
[Another bout of laughter quickly devolves into coughing foamy-bright lung blood of his own, the stuff clotting his lips. He stays unmoving after the fit has passed, his side heaving.
He's often thought of life not as something he clings to but as something that clings to him, wanted or unwanted, refusing to let go for anything. And now it's releasing him into the grip of something stronger -- and as he feels his eyes grow heavy and close on him, he remembers that he isn't scared of what may be waiting for him on the other side. This - whatever will emerge from the darkness to meet him - has been a long time coming, and something tells him that when he gets there, he's in for one last laugh when the mystery of God's plans and His workings are laid bare.]
[Hector keeps pouring energy into the fairy, who in turn funnels it into Isaac to knit the wounds back together. He begins to strip away the soaking cloak so he can wrap his own around Isaac's clammy body.]
Your sister will go nowhere but where she wills. I am to travel with you, not her. I brought us slanina to share, and you're not going to die before you've eaten it.
[Hector's cloak has been warmed by his body, but that seems far too little to combat the chill in the cave. He rubs Isaac's hands between his own, trying to chafe some warmth back into them.]
I need to light a fire. The ones who did this, are they still nearby?
crimson's deadly absorb is and will always be a lousy skill /huff
[Slanina for him, brought all this way? The only thing funnier to him in this moment is the thought of Hector burying the fatty cut of meat with him for neither of them to have, so fitting that he can't help the chuckle rattling his throat.
He's either gone numb or that fairy of Hector's is bathing him in waves of healing energy; it's hard to tell which, and cracking open his eyes to find out is too much of an effort. He lets Hector keep his hand in his, feeling like it isn't a part of his body at all, but someone else's.]
No. ...And I suspect that many among them... have burned to ashes.
[And, at last, there's the leathery snap he's been listening for as Crimson swoops into the darkness, seeking him. It touches down lightly and folds its wings, eyes glowing like burning lumps of coal set in its skull as it picks its way over the cave floor and moves to him, offering a warbling sort of greeting as it nuzzles the hand Isaac blindly holds out to it. Its slitted nostrils flare and he feels the gentle heat of its breath through the palm of his glove. It hasn't much energy to pass along - larger prey must be few and far between tonight - but it's something, adding to the cool, tingling sensation already sweeping through him.]
[Hector’s not convinced Isaac isn’t delirious, but he’s going to have to risk a fire whether there’s danger afoot or not.
With the dragon on Isaac’s opposite side, watching over him, Hector releases his hand and backs out of the cave to scrounge up some tinder and fuel for a fire.
It’s short work to get a small flame going, and he drapes Isaac’s ripped, bloodied cloak on the ground beside it to dry out.
He studies Isaac’s probe form in the flickering light. In spite of two devil’s healing, he still looks awful. They must have been some truly gruesome wounds. He’s hoping Isaac is stable enough to move.
He goes out again to collect some foliage to cushion the stone floor beside the fire.
He returns to Isaac’s side.]
Shhh, stay still. Let’s get you where it’s warm.
[He reaches one hand under Isaac’s knees and the other beneath his shoulder blades to leverage him up and into his arms.]
[He's breathing just a little easier on Hector's return, his hungry gasps less urgent and often; with the healing underway, the blood trapped around his lungs is slowly reabsorbing and the crushing pressure it placed on his organs, strangling his voice to a near-whisper, is easing off. But there's nothing a devil can do for the exhaustion that leaves him boneless in Hector's arms in a way he ordinarily never would be, and he'd be more frustrated if his steel trap of a mind weren't just as blunt and useless, dizziness rocking him every which way even when he's laid still. He fights powerful waves of nauseas while trembling by the fire, feeling his skittery pulse down to his fingertips, but not much else. Pain is only a memory on the edges of his awareness.]
I told you... it would never work. [There's no bite to his voice, no fire. He pulls his arms around himself, barely.] But you will always sooner believe in the innocence... of humans than you will in me.
[It's no surprise, and it stings more than it has any right to, for what he's done. 'Leave me', he'll repeat, before long.]
[Hector sets Isaac down by the fire and brushes his hair from his forehead, smoothing it back in a careful motion. His eyes go soft, looking Isaac over.]
You tried? Isaac... [His voice catches. It was faith in Hector's words that brought him to this? Hector is responsible for these wounds, as surely as if he'd driven the stakes into the flesh himself.]
I won't ask you to go among them again. I will see to everything we need from them. You'll not come to harm again.
[His hands move from forehead to cheek, thumb just grazing the corner of Isaac's lips.]
If I give you water, can you keep it down? You should try to drink something, if you can.
[For all the maneuvering of his body Hector has done since finding him, it's that gentleness, again, that makes Isaac flinch. He's in no position to pretend he's gone cold to it and that he's managed to kill his own gnawing human need, or to fight the idea that Hector, with every feathering touch, is no better than succubi and incubi, conspiring to leech him of his hard-earned power in his own way. So he weathers it out, quiet for a while, his mind drifting back to the castle where he remembers he'd have been his own help, forcing himself back to his feet before he was ready out of sheer desperation not to miss any chance to prove himself and win the dark lord's favour.
No rest for the wicked, indeed.]
You cannot promise me that.
[It's the answer that squeezes past a sudden knot in his throat, and in it are the shades of betrayal, of devastation made fresh and raw again, as if Hector always had the power to reach into his past and stop everything that had folded in his heart and chose instead to stand back, letting him scream into the void. But when Isaac presses on, his tone is toothless and resigned again.] Nor have I need of it. My blade and my devils... are enough. And when the day comes that I fall... to hell with me I will drag my enemies.
[Hector's hand freezes mid-stroke. Memories of smoke and of a pyre burnt to rubble flood his mind.]
No, I can make no promise...none but to try.
[He withdraws his hand. He has been touching Isaac to reassure himself; he knows not what comfort or discomfort Isaac takes from it. Likely none. He's made it clear to Hector he wants none of Hector's affection.
Unstopping his canteen, he pours a capful of water to offer to Isaac.]
You'll drag no one anywhere tonight. Rest now.
[Tomorrow, Isaac can have the breakfast he wanted, and another round of healing. After that? Hector cannot say.]
[Isaac blinks his eyes open and stares dully at the canteen. They have a feverish sheen, his pupils blown. There's no hiding how thirsty he is when he finally puts his lips to it; weak as he is, he drinks like he hasn't in days, spluttering when his throat lurches with bile he can only barely choke back down. The effort takes what's left of his fight right out of him - and within minutes of lying back and letting his eyes slip shut, his trembling body stills and he drifts off to the hungry crackling of the fire, Crimson coiling itself at his side.
He's standing somewhere, out in an empty, treeless field, but not for long.
Something cracks against the back of his skull and he staggers, gasping, as lights burst behind his eyes. He whirls around just as another blow catches him in the side of the head, his knees going soft. He drops to the ground, feeling the tickly crawl of blood oozing out his nostrils. It tastes real - harsh and salty and metallic as more of it slides down the back of his throat.
By the time he feels a hand clamp around his ankle, he's already being dragged over dirt and rocks and into a waiting crowd. Axes and hoes, shovels and pitchforks. They curse and spit on him and roar in triumph, their snarling faces looming over his, swimming in and out of focus. Only their gazes hold steady, black with hate.
There's something wrong with his body. He thrashes against an impossible heaviness in his arms and legs, his mouth dropping open in a ragged scream that gurgles and dies as someone rocks a jug over him and a clear liquid splashes his face. Holy water, is the thought jumping to the forefront of his mind -- but it's stronger than even the Belmont's blessed tools, closer to boiling oil. His skin prickles, then burns raw, hissing as a bright, vicious pain eats into his lips, the flesh of his cheeks, the lining of his throat. He croaks out a cry into the void, rasping for air. More water is dashed onto him. He twists his head away, staring through tears at his arm - bare and unscarred? - as it bubbles up and melts to expose gleaming tendons and muscles, bloody flesh dripping off the twitching bones of his fingers.
heavenly Father -- a voice floats above the ringing in his ears, above the pain-fog and the laughter pressing in around him -- in your name we, the faithful, have congregated and shall see to the burning of this vile servant of Satan, this beast who would shun Your glory and Your light, lest we fall prey to its temptations...
Roaring, he grasps for the threads binding him to his devils. But when he tugs desperately, the line goes slack. Silence, dead air. The magic that should be there, pulsing inside him like an angry, living thing, is gone and --
Isaac lurches awake in the dark, his heart rocking crazily in his chest as he blinks and blinks, seeing and unseeing. Crimson lifts its head. Lying in a rigid silence, it's a while until he remembers where he is, and longer until he realizes he isn't alone. There's nothing left to the fire but charcoal and ash and rocks, a faint whiff of a smoke. Cold and weary, he sluggishly sits himself up against the cave wall, realizing his hands are shaking. He bunches them into fists, angry. Then goes for his dagger when the restlessness in his bones is more than he can stand. He turns it over and over in his fingers, stopping only to press the point into his palm.]
[Isaac does not speak or cry out to alert Hector, his harsh life seemingly having taught him to suffer always in silence.
Hector meant to keep vigil this night. He sits propped against the cave wall near the entrance, his makeshift club within arm's reach. Without cloak and with the fire dying, he's shivering, but in spite of the discomfort and of his own resolve, he's fallen into a doze.
It's movement that stirs him back into wakefulness. A shift in the labored breathing across the cave, and the quiet struggle to prop himself up. Hector looks out beyond the cave, but neither sees nor senses a threat.
He pushes himself up straighter, and calls out in a whisper,]
Isaac, are you well? Keep still. I'll rekindle the fire.
[His own body is stiff and slow to respond. The chill and the uncomfortable position he's forced himself into are taking their toll. But he needs to move. It's not only himself he has to take care of now, and the weaknesses of his flesh do not excuse him of the responsibilities he has assumed.
Groaning, he flexes his fingers and toes, trying to will away the pins and needles as he crawls to the fire.]
[Isaac doesn't look up from the knife, a muscle flexing in his jaw as he twists it a little harder through leather and into the flesh of his hand.]
...I live yet, don't I?
[He grates out, lowly, feeling his face stiffen under Hector's attention, his scrutiny.]
Go back to sleep.
[It's a demand, because it has to be. Because a plea is out of the question. But he doesn't expect Hector to listen, already smouldering with annoyance.
He thought he had outgrown nightmares; he had lost too many nights already to panic gripping him by the throat and shaking him awake, his head stuck someplace where dreams and memories would blur and he wasn't always sure of what was and wasn't, and if he could ever feel safe again. It's funny, he thinks to himself, how pain always lasts longer than pleasure. If someone cuts another deep enough, one scars over. But as he's seen with Hector, there's no lasting mark for the kindness one may have felt, at some point; nothing to show for the briefest moments of something approaching happiness. Wounds could heal in time, with or with magic, but the body and mind are wired to remember them, to hold onto terrifying lessons that came of them for the rest of one's life.]
Not until I start the fire again. We could both do with the warmth.
[Hector gives the dying coals a prod with a stick, and wonders what has Isaac so waspish. He only offered to rekindle their campfire.
Was it the light? Isaac might have stirred to relieve himself, or to relieve himself in the cover of darkness... only he’s never been shy about doing either in front of Hector.
He breaks the stick and feeds it to the smoldering embers, coaxing life back to them.
Isaac is akin to a feral cat, he reminds himself; bold when he has strength and a means of escape, but dangerous when vulnerable. Hector will do more harm than good, trying to press any closer while he’s wounded.]
If you need privacy, I’ll leave you alone... just as soon as I’m sure you won’t freeze.
[He gives the fire a little more kindling, trying to build it up so that he can step outside with the assurance that Isaac will be safe and warm within.]
[Hector feeds and stokes the fire and Isaac's impatience only swells with it, fingers squeezing around the dagger hilt. However long he needs to wait before the flames burn steady is too long, he decides; it's easier to leave Hector behind, seeking privacy on his own terms rather than having him walk away and being left to mill around, awkwardly expecting Hector's return at any moment. The bracing pre-dawn air would soothe his aching head, if not help to clear it - if he can get to it.]
If a herd of mindless human cattle have not ended me yet... [he rasps through his teeth ] ...then a draft surely will not.
[The wobbliness in his legs when he pushes to his feet begs to differ; he's already a little woozy and breathless from the effort, forehead sheening with a sickly sweat. But his determination is unwavering. He doesn't need coddling, he tells himself, turning and staggering for the cave's mouth, putting an arm out to feel his way along the wall. Crimson stirs and stretches its wings, patiently awaiting a command that never comes.]
[The next bundle of sticks snap in Hector’s hand and scatter into the fire.]
The draft might not finish the job, but a stiff wind looks like it could finish the job. Sit your ass down.
[He forces himself up, though his foot is still asleep and his back muscles protest. He nudges the pile of tender and kindling with his boot.]
If you can’t bear my presence, then you tend the fire and I’ll go. Because I warn you, I’m your match in stubbornness and if you go out, I will as well, and we’ll both be cold and miserable and the wolves will find this cave and ravage all our supplies.
[Isaac stumbles to a stop, bristling - but just as his authority no longer has the weight to bend Hector to his whim, Isaac himself defies what sounds less like a suggestion and more like an order. He won't sit, much less after what it took to stand. But he is compelled to turn himself around, reluctantly, leaning up against the wall. Despite the healing still running its course at an accelerated rate, he can feel a sharp pulling in his chest as his breathing sharpens, deepens.
He shows his teeth.]
Since when have we fused at the hip?
[It's a question he's answered before, his mouth twisting from a scowl to a grim, knowing smile, briefly. But the real question is not when but why, when Isaac has done nothing to reward Hector's persistence or the attention Isaac thought he had always wanted. The attention he had killed for.
He tosses a hand helplessly, letting it slap to his side.]
What is it you want from me? [Frustration leaks into his voice.] ...A pat on the back for your noble efforts to tame the savage beast? My flesh, having claimed yours?
[It’s not something that can be hidden, so Hector owns it, quiet and resolute.]
I want you to be well, Isaac. For all you balk against it, we are bound. Any ill will I bore against you before has been put aside.
[He steps to where he’d laid Isaac by the fire and bends to retrieve his discarded cloak. He tosses the bundle of fabric at Isaac’s shaking form.
He is trying to be patient, trying not to let him temper get the better of him and force them both even further back til they lose every halting step forward they’ve taken together.
He can’t force Isaac to stay without doing more harm, but if he leaves, Isaac might stay or return sooner to their shelter. Hector retrieves a hook and line from the bundle of supplies he traded for earlier today.]
Wander if you must, but while you deny yourself shelter, so shall I.
[If they’re both up and pushing themselves early to their graves anyways, Hector is going to go sit by the pond and see if there’s any night-fishing to be had.]
[Swallowing, he stares at him in silence, unmoving when the cloak lands in a crumpled heap at his feet. He can smell the blood on it.
Well.
There's no such thing for him. He'd never be well and Hector surely knows it; he wouldn't know what to do with happiness if he had it, or even properly recognize it. And if he somehow did, he'd spend every waking moment braced for disaster, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for something to try ripping what little he had from his grasp, if he didn't manage to do it himself by them. Scoffing, he finally stoops to lift his cloak, draping it over his shoulders as he whirls around, pressing forward. His jagged shadow lurches across the cave wall.
He's a lost cause -- or Hector and Julia wouldn't have left him in a castle to die, a voice whispers -- and whatever else he had done to Hector when he pushed into him, whatever misguided emotions and sense of responsibility the experience instilled in him, it'd only be a matter of time before it all fell away and Hector would give up on him.
again]
You are wasting your time. [He warns, stepping away from light and smoke into the night that spreads around him like a thick, dark blanket. No stars. Sighing, he leans up against dirt and rock and lets his sore, heavy-lidded eyes fall shut, pulling in a breath past a twinge of pain in his ribs. Then another, telling himself he doesn't need the fire nearly as soon or as badly as his body thinks it does.
The flesh is weak.
A wind stirs the old, creaking pines, whispering through long grasses. It's cool over his gleaming temples, his neck. He coughs lightly at a tickle in his lungs and settles back, hunching. A faint dusting of something pollen-like has gathered in his hair and eyelashes and the fur draping him, unfelt.]
[Hector watches, rigid but relieved, as Isaac dons his cloak. That much comfort, at least, he will have against the chill.]
My time is my own, to be spent how I will.
[He grumbles, and makes to brush past Isaac and head for the pond when Isaac begins to cough.
Slight though it it, Hector rushes close, visions of internal bleeding and punctured lungs in his mind. He gets a breath of the spores as he clasps Isaac by the shoulders and leans close to study his face for signs of distress in the darkness.]
What...? Isaac, go back inside....this air is foul this night....
[Even as he speaks, he begins to lose focus on his words.]
[Leaves rustle under Hector's boots: he's come out after him, the stubborn bastard. Isaac clenches his jaw, expecting him to linger, to fill the night with talk. But Hector moves past him, marching on ahead -- and then, with sudden urgency, doubles right back before he can begin to feel grateful.
Isaac starts at his touch, stiffening. What he sees when he lifts his head isn't Hector's face - or much of a face at all. His eyes are rolling back into his skull all the way, his skin bulging and rippling, splitting as bloated maggots push through it like wet paper. Wide-eyed, Isaac rears his head back and wrenches himself out of his grip, wincing as he grasps for his dagger. By the time he has dropped into a fighter's crouch, poised to slash at him, Hector is Hector again, staring back at him.
Isaac feels his stomach pitch. He keeps his blade raised, wary. It jitters in his fist.
It doesn't make sense - of all the doppelgangers and shapeshifters that have ever taken Hector's form, none have ever been able to reproduce the aura of Dracula's magic rolling off their bodies. Their bond remains unbroken, every fibre of his being tingling-alert with the certainty that this really is Hector and that nothing has changed. No dark spirits sliding into his body and taking possession of him.]
[Isaac twists out of Hector’s grip, which is not unexpected, but the reach for his dagger is.
Hector staggers back, seeing the dagger morph into a torch to light a pyre. The stench of smoke and burning flesh choke his lungs.
He has no weapon, but he twists the fishing line around his hands in a makeshift garrote.
Something in Isaac’s countenance shifts, or seems to shift in Hector’s drugged eyes, and the torch becomes a bloodied stake torn from a jagged gash in Isaac’s side. Isaac, so cynical and cruel, who had nonetheless tried to trust in humanity again at Hector’s behest.
Hector twists his hands to untangle the rope, disgusted at the idea of strangling the life out of Isaac. The fish hook tears at his skin, and blood dribbled out, a little dark river in the black of the night.]
[Isaac's muscles tighten, rallying all the desperate strength and readiness they have left when Hector seems like he might lunge at him with that silvery fishing line -- and he almost lets out a strangled laugh despite himself, because this was always going to happen. Every road destined to lead to this, to Hector biding his time until he couldn't bear it anymore, couldn't take another minute watching him go unpunished by everyone but himself while the memory of Rosaly continues to eat at him, its claws in too deep in Hector for him to ever escape.
But then a beat passes and then another, the two of them still taking measure of each other, and Hector's stance hasn't shifted. Isaac watches the inky drip of blood down Hector's hand, his gaze hard and searching his face for an explanation and only finding an expression he can't place.
His lips peel back.]
Do it! [He spits the words at him, feeling too vindicated, too angry, to let himself recognize the disappointment weighing heavy in his heart.] Consummate your precious revenge, if you can!
[In the thick brush comes a sudden thrashing, interrupting him. He throws a wild-eyed glance over his shoulder, staring into darkness. Branches snap and rustle away, and in the chaos he hears an angry, rhythmic grunting and someone screaming, a woman's scream splitting the night. He can't see but he knows what he's hearing, knows it to his bones. And it goes on until he grits his teeth and can't stand it, shooting a look to Hector - Hector, the merciful - who isn't reacting to it, as if he's lost his nerve.
Just as Isaac takes a purposeful step towards the sobbing struggle, determined to put an end to human and monster, half his wish is granted. There's a harsh, wet snap of a sound -- and then nothing at all. A deathly silence that's just as piercing as the wailing that came before it.
A hulking shape slowly emerges from the shadows, dragging a limp body behind it by the leg. It stops halfway towards the trees, turning its head Isaac's way -- and when their eyes meet, lock, Isaac feels a jolt run him through, the hairs on the nape of his neck lifting. The echoes of a sharp, white fear from what could've been years ago or only yesterday throbbing in his chest. His body hasn't forgotten; maybe it never would. But while some things may never change, enough has, when Isaac draws himself up against the chill and the weight of his cloak and remembers that he's still here - that he survived on his own, stronger for it - and that he
(can't move, can't get free, screaming past a sob of futile rage locked in his throat)
would put this beast down for good. He points his dagger at the demon. Even from a distance he can feel its breath, burning hot on the back of his neck, somehow. Sick-smelling, heavy with rot. ]
I killed you once before... [Isaac narrows his eyes] ...and my only regret is not making a place for your head on my mantle. But tonight I shall gladly rectify my mistake!
[It turns its body towards him now, bigger than it ever was, even with its wings pulled in. Still missing the middle toe on its left foot, and the part of one ear Isaac had managed to slice off. Its snout wrinkles in something approximating a smile. With a lazy swing of its arm, it hurls the corpse in Isaac's direction. It ragdolls, hitting the ground with a meaty thud before tumbling to a stop at his feet, limbs splayed brokenly. Fingers still twitching. Her long hair is tangled with leaves and twigs and her dress is ripped up the knee, legs scraped and stained with blood. The face - the half that hasn't been crushed to a jawless pulp - is turned to one side, eyes still begging for help.
A look that reaches into Isaac and grabs him by the guts, twisting them inside-out.
He goes weak at the middle. Staggers back a step, his breath coming in short, shallow heavesr.
Julia's body splits and blurs and joins again in his vision. And right there, while the world spins around him and his eyes burn, he can almost feel some part of his mind fracture, crumbling away from the rest.
The demon waits, smiling.
Blood rocks his skull and Isaac goes blind, never hearing the unhinged scream that claws its way out of him as he rushes the monster and slams his dagger up into its laughing throat, jerking it down through sinew and bone and cartilage to the breastbone. It topples, choking, spurting blood, Isaac landing on top of it. He punches the blade deep into its grinning skull, sobs ripping his throat, raw, animal sobbing, as it squeals out and he stabs it over and over again until its forehead collapses and its jellied eyeballs leak down its face like runny egg.
But all that's on Isaac's knife is dirt, clods of it flying from the soft spot in the ground he's driving it into.]
[Hector and Isaac stare at one another, both tense and poised to spring. Isaac goads him on, but Hector's tongue feels too sluggish and dry to croak out a protest.
Then Isaac turns suddenly, leaping toward some unseen threat, and Hector follows. His eyes cannot reconcile what they see.
Isaac, snarling as he tackles...himself. Twin forms claw at one another in the dirt, tearing at identically tattooed flesh. They sneer and curse at one another, and Hector knows deep within his bones that Isaac will kill himself if Hector doesn't intervene.
He dives into the fray, determined to save the other Forgemaster from himself.]
[He's shaky and nauseous, unmoored. Gasping like he's drowning. From somewhere far away, Hector is hurtling towards him. But he never hears it, going boneless when their bodies crash together - knife flying from his hand - and the world tilts sharply in his vision. He drops to the dirt, a fresh surge of adrenaline slamming into him. Blood thunders in his ears and in the hollows of his skull, his nerves spitting fire. There isn't a part of him that doesn't ache, spent by his own ferocity, his own violent, whiplashing movements, but the instinct to fight back is still there - is all he has left. Dizzied, he shoots an arm out for his dagger and snatches it, crying out as he swings at his side, a broad, sloppy arc. Not knowing what he's slashing at or if it's there at all.]
[Hector reaches with his power to summon his fairy as he struggles against Isaac. He isn't sure which one he tackled, the smoke-tinged, curse-mad Isaac or the bleeding, vulnerable one who wanted to spare his sister and who ventured into danger trusting Hector's words. Maybe there is no difference between the two.
They roll against one another, bucking and thrashing. Hector tries to get his arms around the flailing limbs, to pin Isaac down until he can heal his wounds and calm his rage.
The blade of Isaac's knife carves a line across his chest, ripping fabric and flesh both. It's a blind attack, not nearly as destructive a move as Isaac could make if he actually aimed, this close within Hector's defenses.
Hector cannot block the attack and keep his hold, and something within him cries out not to let go. He has to protect someone. He has to save someone. He has already failed one lover; to let another die is worse than death itself. As long as he keeps Isaac here, in his grasp, that other dark Isaac cannot destroy him.
His fairy's glow -- bright like flame, like a funeral pyre -- appears behind Hector's head, casting the writhing man below him in Hector's shadow.
Heal him he orders his devil, even as the knife comes back around for another stab. He tries to shush Isaac, to sooth him, but the next slice of the blade has him gasping back a ragged sob of breath. His vision, already so strange and blurred, unfocuses.]
[The ground feels like it's shifting under him, opening to swallow him whole - and through a fog of fury and dread and terror, his body twisting and struggling on its own, he realizes that enough of him has already made its peace with letting the enemy wrestle him down and kill him. Or not kill him. It makes no difference what it wants; the sad joke is on it, with nothing left of him to rattle, to break.
His knife jerks free, dripping. And as it readies for another thrust, Isaac waits for release, hopes for it, like a sick, rotting brain waits for a bullet. But it drives back into his attacker instead, and it breaks the hold the other has on him long enough for Isaac to wrench himself out from under its weight. Panting raggedly, he rolls around to face it, his eyes raw and wet. He squints against the glow of what he recognizes as Hector's fairy. Hector is there too, just behind it. Dark blots of blood spreading through his tunic.]
Murderer! [Isaac screams, unhinged, his arms high over his head as he lurches for him like a mindless living corpse before slamming his dagger down on any part of Hector he can reach, all his weight, his futile rage, behind it.] You let her die!
[Shuddering, he deflates, his body crumpling over the knife still tight in both his hands.]
[Isaac writhes like a worm, squirming his way out of Hector's hold when it is weakened from the slashing wounds he's taken.
He tries to regain the upper hand, reaching out to seize Isaac's wrists to stop him from attacking.
Murderer! Isaac hisses. His face shifts and warps, until Hector is staring at his own face. You let her die!]
I....
[There is no denying the accusation. Hector brought Rosaly's death, with his love, his selfish love that prioritized his happiness over her safety. She would still live, had he not loved her.
Hector stops struggling, and lets the knife strike land.]
if this doesn't work for any reason, I'm happy to change it, just lemme know
[His head is swimmy, pounding so hard his vision jitters. He breathes and breathes, the bile in his throat not going down without a fight. The image of Julia's mangled body has burned itself into the insides of his eyelids. There's no escaping it. Or the screams that knife through his mind, echoes on echoes.
He's accepted pain as an inevitability of being alive, and learned to make room for it, always working to tamp down and pack older memories away if he couldn't twist them into something useful. But there's no room left, this time. He can't any more -- he can't.
The last dim spot of light has gone out in his world and he knows he doesn't deserve to go with it, to have the luxury to die on his own terms. But he doesn't deserve to live, either, if she can't. If her final, terrifying moments are in any way Hector's fault, than he knows it's his own, just as much, for standing there and doing nothing. For being like any leering, soulless monster. The humans can't be all wrong, he decides, seeing what they see in him.
His dagger squelches loose from Hector's leg, slimy with blood. And after a long moment, Isaac lifts his head with it, staring through him as he makes to put that same blade to his own throat and jerk it across.]
[The knife blade punches in and out of Hector's leg, and the shadowed portion of his soul welcomes the pain. It is right, that he should be ripped apart for his crimes, for the very stain of darkness that has shrouded him since birth.
The bloody blade forces him to look up, and Hector sees Isaac once more, despairing and lost. Fitting, that they should die together, two sides of the same warped coin.
'Hector, don't curse yourself.' Rosaly's voice echoes from far away and long ago. 'I don't know your pain or your past...but they aren't important. Don't be a captive to them.'
Rosaly would forgive what he does not, can not. And if Rosaly could find goodness worth nurturing in one forgemaster, surely she would in the other. Hector has to find it, cultivate it, because Rosaly is no longer able to.
Hector's vision is swimming as the blood drains freely from his wounds, but he takes decisive action, reaching out and seizing Isaac's wrist to stay his hand. The fairy at his shoulder glows brighter, focusing its healing magic on Isaac. It takes more power than Hector anticipates, and his knees buckle.]
[The fairy's work can't touch his brokenness but it gives him the strength to try and wrest his arm free while he hisses curses, refusing to fail at this too. But when Hector won't let go and his own body has nothing left to give, no power to drive knee or elbow into Hector and win their tug of war, he does the only thing he can do: he angles his blade downwards, towards his chest, and clamps his free hand around Hector's offending arm, straining to force the tip of his knife where it should be. A push is all it took to bring him to the edge of despair, and another would finish him. Quickly, he hopes, if only so the fairy wouldn't knit his unwilling body back together if he survived.
He arches his back and presses himself into the knife, close enough to feel the point dimpling his skin. Close enough to feel the heat of Hector's panting breath and see the slow draining of life and colour from his face. To see a strange powdery residue speckling his skin. It seems fairest that Hector should look him in the eyes when his hand runs the blade through him, willingly or unwillingly.]
Do it! It's what you had wanted!
[Isaac shouts at him, a gob of spit hitting Hector's cheek. His desperate grip squeezes tight around his glove, his body trembly-electric on the inside.]
I killed your woman! I raped you of the only happiness you have ever known and will ever know in your wretched life, and I ran free while her ashes scattered to the wind!
[Hector fights to hold on to consciousness. He tightens his hold on Isaac's wrist, a bruising, crushing grip. His free hand goes for the blade to turn it from Isaac's breast. Blood drips from his torn hand onto Isaac.
Through gritted teeth, he growls out.]
And I will have to live with that. WE will have to live with that.
[If Isaac wants punishment, there is none crueler than that. But in it, there is also hope, though Isaac does not know how to see it.
The fairy heals and cleanses, sending a warm, tingling aura over Isaac. Hector's vision swims, and he struggles to dig his fingers into a pressure point to force Isaac to drop his weapon before he slumps over.]
And what gets high... must come down. Something like that.
[Hector's thumb grinds into a nerve cluster and weakens his stubborn grip, little by little, until Isaac is forced to let go, hissing. He wants to grab Hector by the collars and shake him senseless for thinking it's his place to choose and to judge what he does with his own life. But Hector's last few words to him, before he collapses, land like a gut-stab, reminding Isaac that what he deserves isn't and never will be an easy out.
His arms drop and he falls back onto his knees, sagging.
The wind picks up, swirling around them and tugging at his cloak, but not enough of Isaac is there to notice while he throbs with hate, hate for himself and for Hector, and for the howling, furious sobbing he can't bite back.
Hector may have fought and won the battle for Isaac's life, but not the war.
Mid-crying jag, he doubles over with a coughing fit that's just as violent, hacking thick and wet until he brings up a whitish phlegm from the bottom of his lungs. Gulping down deep, shuddering breaths, Isaac dries his face on his arm, his mouth, slowly going cold. His head hurts; his skull is clamped tight around his brain. And for the first time in a long time comes a thought he had as a boy the nights he had huddled in some dark, dusty corner of the library - the only place, it had seemed, where there was some semblance of order: he wants to go home. But home is nowhere. It's just an idea of a warm, comfortable place that never existed.
Shadows and projections shimmer around him, fading. When he knuckles his eyes dry one more time and dares to look around, he realizes both Julia and the demon's remains have disappeared. No trampled, blood-slick grass marking where either corpse had lain. Only Hector is still there - at least for the moment - with more wounds than Isaac remembers inflicting.
He doesn't know when he finds the will to climb to his feet again, and then, finally, to drag Hector over dirt and grass and the ragged cave floor to the fire, for what feels like for hours. Or why, beyond petty tit-for-tat. He feeds the dying embers with a barely-controlled wisp of magic, struggling to push past the aggressive ache in his temples and have Crimson pull a small measure of energy from Hector's fairy and from his own body to pour into Hector's. Crimson's capacity for healing can only pale in comparison to a creature whose sole purpose revolves around treating injury and disease. But what his devil offers is enough to buy some time until it has absorbed and returned with something more.
The glow of the fire draws Isaac's attention to the dust furring Hector's cheek. He thumbs it off him, rubbing it between his fingers. It the same stuff that had smudged off on his glove when he had wiped his own face.
Soon, there'd be wood to gather. But for now he sits himself down, moving only to grudgingly unshoulder his cloak. More dust clouds the air, when he does: a piece of a puzzle slotting into place in his head. He vigorously shakes it out, away from Hector, before tossing it over him.]
[The first thing Hector becomes aware of, when he wakes, is the queasy turning of his stomach. His throat spasms, and he twists into his side so he doesn't chock as he vomits. His insides twitch, and his belly tries to force out more than he has left, wracking his body as he gags on air.
The shuddering passes and he flops back down on his back, letting his face loll to the other side so he can press his feverish cheek against the cold stone.
A cloak tangles around his arms, restricting his movement. Isaac's, not his....
He remembers...Isaac, pinning himself to the ground and driving in his knife... Isaac's face turning into a mirror image of Hector's...the accusation 'Murderer' that he could not deny...
Nightmares. He remembers nightmares, for what else could they be?
Along his chest, on his hand, in the meat of his thigh, he feels the throb of blood beneath scabbed flesh. A nightmare that can inflict wounds...the sort of thing that scared villagers would say resided in the forsaken castle.
He senses no threat now, but there had been danger. Something to do with Isaac.... He can taste the fear in his mouth, as foul and bitter as the aftertaste of his bile. He'd almost lost Isaac.
He peels open his eyes and forces his aching head up from the cool stone to look for him.]
[Isaac stirs, lifting his head from his arms at those spluttering gasps, the first signs of life in what feels like days. Squawking, Crimson leaves its post at Hector's side and pads back to its master, cocking its head slightly when Isaac opens his mouth only to cough again, his body still working to purge what's left of the nastiness colonized in his lungs. A long few hours on his own - time he's had to carve fresh tally marks into his arm and watch the bleeding slow to a stop - have seen a slow draining away of abject fear and hopelessness and the return of rational thought, the truth of his reality breaking through and reaching him, finally, like a ray of sunlight piercing a heavy fog bank.
Julia isn't dead.
She never was, because he can still feel her dimly, far to the east, on the other side of the mountain pass they crossed days ago.
Isaac dries his mouth and slides his gauntlet back on over blood-smeared skin with a stiff tug. He catches Hector's gaze a moment while snapping the buckles on, his own red-rimmed and tired, smouldering with powerless anger towards an enemy with no face, no blood. All Crimson had found, deeper in the woods, was a patch of myconid easily set ablaze. The others sucked themselves back into the dirt.
Hector had sensed something awry, he remembers. Something in the air. But not soon enough.]
[Hector's eyes find Isaac, sitting up of his own power, and seemingly in better shape than Hector (though that doesn't seem hard). Hector lets his head slump back down. He heaves out a long breath.
The pounding of his head is killing him, and his lungs feel heavy, every breath labored.
Closing his eyes, he raises one hand and waves it in the vague direction where he thinks he left the supplies he picked up yesterday.]
...so....breakfast?
[It comes out in a croak. Honestly, all he wants is maybe a gallon of water, to drink or to drown himself in, he's still undecided. But he bought that damned slanina for Isaac, and Isaac will eat it if it kills him.]
[Watching Hector come back to life at a crawl, lazily gesturing around, Isaac feels something approaching relief - if Isaac can, for anything - that Hector is the one to shatter their silence, and more matter-of-factly than expected. Neither of them daring to touch what happened between them. Such is the way it would be for the rest of his life, if he had any choice in it. Some things are better taken to the grave.
Physical and emotional exhaustion have taken their toll and left him without much of an appetite. He hadn't thought to check Hector's pack for the meat he claimed to have brought. Hadn't even remembered it. It feels like a long time ago when Hector found him here, fighting to breathe, fading out.
He scrubs a hand down his face.]
Do I look like your servant?
[He asks, his voice hollow, raw. But he stands eventually, after a moment too long to seem like he will. The slanina smells good when he unwraps it by the fire, preserved between the cooler temperatures and the curing process. He wipes the blood - his and Hector's - off his knife onto his leg and slices off a small piece, stabbing into it and biting it off. The fat itself is smooth and rich in the way nothing he'd eaten lately really has been, the meat soft and the rind pleasantly chewy. He makes more cuts from there, slicing strips before sheathing his dagger into the remaining hunk of meat and letting it rest there, idly sucking the grease off a fingertip.]
[Hector grumbles. He doesn't try to rise yet. Eyes closed, he listens to Isaac eventually get up and rustle through his bag. Hector can't will away his aches, so he keeps still as his body slowly adjusts to consciousness.
Pride worms its way through him as he listens to Isaac bite and chew. It's a primal urge, to act as a provider for one's mate. Isaac is eating food Hector brought him, and through the nausea and throbbing pain, he's pleased at it.]
Eventually, the foul taste in his mouth forces him up, and he rolls over and peels his eyes open again to search for his canteen. Unlike the food that had lain forgotten over the night, he'd keep the canteen nearby as he nursed Isaac's wounds.
He'd ask Isaac to find it and toss it over to him, but it's not worth dealing with the challenge that Isaac would surely take it as.]
[He finishes chewing, not reaching for another piece. His attention lingers on Hector instead, as if he's trying to gauge his will to live while he struggles and considering whether or not to put him out of his misery.]
...All this meat and no wine? [He remarks, sans the sneering twist of his lips that usually accompanies his criticisms. The disappointment is only partly feigned. Something harder is what he needs; something to wash away the taste of sick sticking in the back of his throat and smooth his frayed, battered nerves over. He needs to forget what he saw, the twisted perceptions of reality that had nearly killed them both and still live under his skin and behind his eyelids, keeping him awake.
He digs his nails into his arm, following Hector's line of sight. It's not hard to guess at what he likely wants from what he already has - fire, cloak, food, fairy - and not too long ago, Isaac knows he'd have dangled that canteen, willing him to crawl for it like it was something to be earned. Today, he only has the patience and meanness to grab it from somewhere behind him, tipped over but stopped, and pass it over with a lazy, underhanded throw, a dismissive throw, assuming Hector will catch it - and none too concerned if he doesn't.]
[Hector has to fumble his leaden arms to grab the canteen, and he catches it with a groan.]
...'no wine', he says. There's no pleasing some people.
[He grumbles, but he's already calculating how long he will need to recover before he can venture out to bring Isaac back wine. It's obvious it is not safe for Isaac to do the shopping, and Hector wants to indulge Isaac's cravings.
...at least, the more innocent ones.
...and maybe a few of the not-so-innocent ones.
He uncorks the canteen and takes a long sip. It makes him chock and spit up more phlem, but he can breath a little easier afterwards.]
Any other requests? Sweetmeats, a pie, perhaps? What will it take to please you, Isaac?
[He crosses his arms, but neither shuts Hector out nor conversation down. Instead, he's ready to toss out a scoffing half-joke in turn, surprised how easily he's slipping back into the rhythm of exchanging easy jabs, as though no one is hurting and everything is as fine as it'll ever be. But daring to give it serious consideration yet again, he still isn't sure what, if anything, could ever please him for the long term. Temporary satisfaction, on the other hand, is more attainable - in theory, anyway.]
A warm bed and a warm body.
[He says, to the fire. Nights of half-drunk debauchery, free to do and to be as he will. Fucking until boredom settles into his bones and he seeks something else or someone else, the next body to warm his and to dull the ache of being alive. Until he knows how to see and to let himself slide into open arms, he'll settle for open legs. Infinitely easier for all involved.]
Access to the latter whenever the mood should strike.
[Hector’s easy teasing falters, and his brow furrows.
‘I would be that for you,’ he does not say. Isaac is like a bull, or he was at the castle, from what Hector saw, taking his pick from the herd and rarely returning to a lover once used and discarded.
Hector isn’t like that. He’s the bird who mates for life. The life of one, if not the life of both.
Hector can’t make an offering of himself to Isaac only to be cast aside the next morning.
He pushes himself up and cards a hand through his tangled hair.]
There will be beds soon, when we get back on the road again. The port towns along the coast see travelers from all over; they won’t be so easily spooked by the sight of us as the peasants here.
[A day or two sleeping in a tavern with actual beds will do both of them good, no matter who Isaac chooses to tumble while he’s there.]
[He huffs as much at Hector's marriage to a seafaring life as at the idea that the residents of a port town would be fairly numbed to the presence of unusual-looking strangers, more interested in tourism and money pouring in than who - or what - bought food from their markets and slept in their beds. It's not impossible, for all he knows. But his only other response to it is a disinterested murmur, a low hum in his throat.]
I did not mean soon, Hector. [He says, sternly, a muscle rippling in his jaw. There's no telling what the future holds for him, if he'd make it as far as Hector wants them to, a life that he already seems to be building for them in his dreams; not even Julia with all her visions could know with absolute certainty. Dragging himself from one day to the next, the most Isaac can do is keep breathing, reminding himself on every step forward of how much pain is born of ruined plans and broken expectations.
Isaac makes a point of meeting his gaze, solemn and unblinking. That Hector is barely able to sit himself up doesn't matter; he wouldn't need to to fulfill the purpose Isaac has in mind for him.]
[There isn't the slightest shift in Isaac's expression when Hector turns his attention to one of the many stinging barbs he's left under his skin. It was cruelty for cruelty's sake, to a large extent -- and he makes no effort to suggest it was anything else, to pretend he did Hector a favour punching holes through whatever wishful thought he might have had of them as more than travel companions. They may be forgemasters, but as the hours pass between them, he suspects it's among the few things they share in common. It's one reason why Hector chose the woman, he thinks. And maybe it's just as well. He never knew him like she had. And maybe, it had been the fanciful idea of what and who Hector could be to him and not Hector himself that he had lost sleep and lusted over, wanting him that much more when he was taken away because he was taken away. Like an old toy wrenched from a child's hand.
Isaac isn't sure. But when he looks at Hector with a sudden, fresh awareness, he thinks it may be something Hector is guilty of, too.]
An escape.
[No sly-faced smile, no crude answer rolling off his tongue.]
[Hector considers it for a long moment. The pain and ecstasy and relief they'd given each other on the mountain pass... this kiss he'd pressed against Isaac's lips in the cave... their constant back and forth, hostility and companionship swirling together into a tumultuous current.]
Let me kiss you again, and I'll let you fuck me again.
[For once, Hector is the crude one. He has no illusion that Isaac will be any gentler the second time around, so any tenderness he wants, he will have to bargain for.
He finally takes one of the slices of slanina to nibble on while he waits for his answer. If they end up coupling, Hector doesn't want to be so weak and hungry that he passes out partway through it.]
[Bold of Hector to made demands of his own and expect to negotiate. But not surprising at all. He doesn't resent him for it.
Isaac looks him up and down, coolly, weighing the offer long enough to make it seem as though he has another option to fall back on. But there is nothing better. His choices are either having something or nothing at all; and as hard as it can be to bend, to expose himself as vulnerable and deeply needy, saying no this time is harder still. So he finally spreads his hands, like he's smugly baiting an enemy into attacking him, and not actually inviting someone into his personal space. It feels the same, somehow, either way.]
[Hector has spent enough time with Isaac to expect a certain amount of posturing. He waits while Isaac makes a show of weighing his options, and takes another bite of his meat. Showing annoyance or impatience will only encourage Isaac.
Hector isn’t in the mood for sex; he’s tired and still healing from Isaac’s blade. But he waves his fairy over to receive a little more magical healing from it, then forces himself out of bed.
Dealing with Isaac is like training an animal made stubborn and wary by past abuses. Passing up an opportunity like this will set back whatever progress they’ve made.
Besides, Isaac knows how to press his buttons. His body isn’t craving touch right now, but Hector has faith that it will, very quickly, once he and Isaac begin.]
It would be more comfortable if we waited for real lodgings.
[He points out, even as he slides over into Isaac’s space.
Hector lifts a hand to Isaac’s cheek and tilts his head to the side so they don’t bump noses when he leans in to kiss him.]
[Isaac makes no effort to meet him halfway, waiting for Hector to come to him, and he isn't disappointed. But he's not made of stone - and when Hector's mouth finds his, there is give to his jaw, lips sliding open, even while he remembers the man who tried to broker peace with slanina is the same man who could've strangled him with his fishing line giving half the chance. He can only wonder how much of that murderous intent festering inside Hector was real, in that moment. The hand that has touched down gently over his cheek would say little, if any. But people lie all the time.
Hector tastes like rust and meat. Tastes like a predator, though he's anything but, the way he's kissing him now. And neither is Isaac, his hand dipping between them to palm himself, to work up a proper interest, willing his still-cold body to let him have this.]
[The last kiss was a tender, chaste joining of lips. This one now is different. Hector takes control of it, exploring Isaac’s mouth by feel and by taste. His advance is not violent, but it is thorough.
It’s the type of kiss that states intent, a kiss to herald a more complete joining of bodies. Hector leans into it, and feels himself beginning to awaken.
Isaac gropes a hand between them—impatient— but Hector doesn’t mirror him. He draws back, adjusts his angle, and leans back in to press a number of kisses to Isaac’s lips in quick and teasing succession.]
[In the moment they slide apart with a soft, spit-slick sound, Isaac's eyes drift open to look at him, the whites streaked with blood. They both seem too worn around the edges, too tired for this. But he has committed to what they're doing to and with each other and to leaving the night behind, letting Hector drug him on his taste with every little kiss he steals until his head swims a little. He falls into the rhythm of their slow-burning desire easily enough, pushing back, his nose pressing, sharp and unyielding, into Hector's cheek. Still joined by grasping, hungry mouths when shucking off his gauntlets and pushing his bare hands up Hector's tunic, smoothing up his sides and bracing his ribs. The strength in his grip and the magic pulsing through his arms, hard and ropey, is an ever-present reminder of the brutality he's capable of. But he doesn't squeeze, not hard enough to really hurt. Just enough to keep Hector on edge, wanting to hear his breath stutter in his throat.]
[Isaac's touch skirts the edge of pain, and Hector's body responds to it, blood pumping faster. He breaths out a pant of breath that mingles with Isaac's.
He doesn't start to strip. With a lover, he would want to bear every inch of skin to touch and be touched, both of them open and vulnerable to the other. With Isaac... he expects his pants to be shoved down like before, quick and utilitarian, and everything else left in its place. If Isaac chooses to initiate more, Hector will follow his cues, but otherwise, he is choosing his battles.
His lips move from Isaac's lips, kissing his cheek, his jaw, the pale skin of his throat not covered by his collar. He licks and tastes, teasing with tongue and teeth but never quite biting down. Isaac will be rough, but Hector wants at least this piece of their coupling to be gentle. The angle bears his own neck to Isaac.]
Shall I prepare myself for you?
[Neither of them have the energy for extended foreplay. The hunters they had killed on the mountain had carried some basic supplies with them, including cooking oil that could be put to other use.]
[While unreserved in the taking of pleasure, always, wanting to burn his fingerprints into Hector's skin and wander the landscape of his body, all his planes and valleys and ridges of bone, mapping everything he missed the first time around, what that pleasure does to him and undoes is something he doesn't readily show. Bitten-off moans, muscles working in his jaw, his throat -- he doesn't give Hector much more than what he offered succubi, incubi, who had often taken it as a challenge. His eyes stay closed, his pulse leaping behind the skim of Hector's teeth at his neck. His skin has already pinked.]
'twould be in your best interest...
[There's a velvety growl in his voice and it becomes clear he won't dismiss Crimson for Abel, not this time. But even as he says it he's easing Hector back over the rough cave floor, hitching his blood-stiff tunic up and up to lay his mouth over him, hot and wet and open over all the places where bones lie closest to skin he's broken and bruised.]
[Isaac shows no intention of letting Hector up to fetch the oil, and Hector stays where he has been positioned. He too is trying to curb his reactions, but the quickened rise and fall of his chest and the pebble-hardness of his nipples, as well as the sharp hiss of his breathing in the otherwise silent cave give him away.
Hector gives his fairy a silent order, and the tiny hands fumble through his bag and deliver the bottle to him.
The hot mouth pressing near his tender, healing skin has him flinching involuntarily, breath hitching. Isaac moves lower, tracing the path of his blade the night before. Once he's out of range for Hector to kiss and suck, Hector lets his head drop back and his eyes screw shut. He feels dizzy from sensation and from weariness.
He reaches down to blindly fumble his belt open. His other hand brushes through Isaac's hair, caressing but not seizing. He has a sickly suspicion of the memories such a gesture could dredge up for Isaac.]
[Isaac comes up for air, licking his lip and snapping a rope of spit off a stiffened nipple. The muscles around and between his shoulderblades have knotted, aching, from bending over Hector's body, but he doesn't give himself long to rest his jaw and roll the kinks out of his shoulders before ducking his head again. Diving back into a dreamy place where nothing matters but this, this expanse of scabbed skin and beautifully wrought bones.
Ridiculous as he realizes it is, he half expected Hector's flesh to wear the smell of hers, the taste of hers, after all these years and a cold dip in the pond. Yet Hector is as he was that night in the woods at the base of the mountain, sprawled in the grass, the yeastiness of his skin mingling with the tang of sweat and iron, his scent and all making Isaac throb through no effort of Hector's own - and there's the truth of it. Hector, even belly up and throat bared like it's begging for the knife, wields a fierce power over him that it seems neither time nor violence can break. A power that would pull him and keep pulling them, helplessly, into the sandtrap of each others' lives no matter how deeply they could dig in their heels.
For now, the frustration in that is gone, squeezed out of his awareness by pleasure and need, always need. His lips skim the edges of the wounds he's laid, lovingly suckling at the smattering of scars along the way. Not all of them are his work, but Isaac's mouth takes full responsibility all the same while he smothers Hector's neck and chest in kisses, paying tribute to his body in the way he's never cared to do for the demons he's lain with. Hector is and never was just a piece of flesh, a warm hole, a throwaway.
He stops at Hector's heaving belly, half to make room for his fumbling and half at the hand smoothing over his hair. There's a twitch of his shoulderblades at his touch, but Isaac doesn't toss his head and shake him off. Doesn't need to, that hand sliding off him, naturally, when he straightens up. He hasn't a finger on either hand that wouldn't cause undue pain, and without the means or the will to trim a few nails, he assumes that Hector really meant it when he offered to prepare himself.]
[One thing Isaac refuses to be is predictable. Hector expects rough, possessive groping, but is instead lavished with hot kisses that have him hard and vibrating with pent-up need. Isaac could devour him like this, and Hector would let him.
When Isaac pulls away, Hector opens his eyes and meets his gaze, dazed and flushed. He stops fumbling and shucks off his clothing in earnest, tunic, pants, and all. If Isaac is going to suck and worship the skin Hector bares, he's going to bare as much as he can, to get his fill of this strange affection while it can be had.
Naked, he spreads his legs and slides oil-slick fingers into the crevice of his ass. He's not usually inclined to put on a show- Hector's focus is usually on his partner not himself- but Isaac is waiting and Hector doesn't want to let the fires burning between them cool.
He bends his knees and lifts his hips as he traces his finger around the ring of muscles barring his entrance. The finger slips in, and he moves, but doesn't seek out his own pleasure from the motion. A second finger, and he lets out a sigh as he stretches his muscles. He works himself open, makes himself wet for Isaac's cock.
He takes up the bottle again and pours a little more oil into his cupped palm.]
Come here. [He bids, and makes ready to anoint Isaac's cock.]
Had anyone had ever told him Hector would one day strip down and cant his hips, presenting himself like a gift to be opened, Isaac would've thrown back his head and laughed. But there's no laughter now, not a single word, as he watches, mesmerized, a slippery finger and then a second sink inside Hector, disappearing past his middle knuckles. Making room for him.
Isaac doesn't rebel. Spit sticks in his throat when he finally swallows, his chest going tight as he approaches like a siren-sung man to shipwreck. Every inch of his own bare skin prickles, eager.]
...from whom did you learn this pretty trick? [He questions Hector with a sideways look, a smile almost teasing the corner of his mouth, while plunging a hand down the front of his leather trousers. He carelessly pulls himself free, throbbing in his fist and already dripping precome.]
[Hector frowns, all that heat in his eyes going cold.]
It's no concern of yours.
[The memory of Rosaly, spread on their shared bed, yielding up her soft body to him, is for Hector alone. If Isaac tries to take that and sully it...
He reaches for Isaac's cock and grips it with unneeded strength as he glides the slicked hand along the heated length.]
Why are you talking? I thought you wanted to fuck me.
[Hector craves tenderness and teasing whispers back and forth during lovemaking, but if Isaac can't do that without invoking Rosaly's ghost, Hector would rather be fucked like an animal. He withdraws, physically with his hand and emotionally with his heart.]
[The shift in Hector's mood is almost felt, like a changing wind - but in place of fascination and amusement and the urge to poke and prod at this unsought aggression he has dredged up, there's a retreat of his own, a shadow flickering over his face. His jaw clenches, unclenches.]
Of course. [He snorts mirthlessly, lips thinning when he looses Hector's grasp - one that feels like it could be anyone else's - and reaches to pour oil into his own palm. He smooths it over himself in a few long, efficient strokes. It's only a means to an end. But that's all this was from the start, he reminds himself.] Do forgive me.
[For once, Isaac doesn’t dig his fingers into the wound he finds on Hector. In the awkwardness of their mutual retreat, he’s grateful for that.
Isaac takes charge over his cock and Hector lets him, leaning back against the stone, legs still splayed open.]
Do you want me like before?
[On his knees, ass up, like a dog in heat. He’s too flushed and hard to be ashamed by the memory of it.
He makes to shift his legs around Isaac so he can turn over. Better for both of them that way, not to fool themselves into thinking of any future in this.]
[He makes no move to keep Hector from turning, considering the tight jiggle of thighs and ass with a more muted interest. Half of him is coolly grateful for Hector keeping things focused, in perspective, while the other half wrestles with the impulse to step back and leave him aching and unfulfilled. The pettiness to see that end through is there, of course - but Isaac's strength of will is not. He needs this, and more, he suspects, bitterly now, than Hector does. Not that it tempers his tone or his tongue.]
If that is what comes naturally to you. [He drawls while waiting for Hector to settle, strumming the studs along his shaft and wringing out a few more drops of precome with a rougher, meaner hand than Hector's ever was.]
[Isaac looks on, his expression closing, as Hector vies for some semblance of control. It doesn't matter how long Hector may have entertained this fantasy, if at all, or that the suggestion is new to Isaac; today, he doesn't want any part in it. Doesn't want to lie back under his weight, trading fuller range of motion and power for pleasure he could find any other way.]
No. [He says, too quickly, firmly. Nothing else follows for a long moment. He looks away from Hector's face and back to his hand, stilling around himself. His breath weighs heavy in his chest, the back of his throat.
He squeezes.]
On the ground - now.
[It's a demand, but not a threat; he doesn't make to grab Hector by the back of his skull and push him down, make a whore of him like he accused him of being only a week ago. It's too cruel, even for him.]
[Isaac's tone brokers no debate. There is no hint that Hector could tease or cajole him into indulging him in this. It is another brick wall, and Hector, as always, has to be the one to move around it so they don't stay stuck here forever.
He turns away from Isaac, the muscles of his back tense. He positions his knees on his discarded tunic to give him at least a little padding in the hopes he doesn't scrape them raw. If he wasn't so hard he is sure he would pass out if he stood up too quickly, he might entertain the thought of walking away and leaving Isaac to his own devices.
But no, he promised this, has partaken in the kisses he bargained for, and can't back out now. Hector's word still means something to him.
Neither of them can grant the other what he truly needs, but this semblance of closeness and relief, he can provide.]
[Hector's words simmer with something Isaac can only interpret as resentment. He's resigning himself to being fucked out of principle more than anything else, he supposes. But so be it; he's earned this. It's his turn to collect - and his body is as recklessly determined as it has ever been, lightening trembling under his skin as he settles behind Hector, wanting him with the same primal, voltaic rush of need as he did first time. He guides the knob of his cock to him, lets his eyes slip shut as he makes to push inside him.
In that darkness, he sees teeth. A steely flash of teeth and blood and a clawed arm thrusting out for his neck, his knife jerking up and down through the air. A log splits in the fire and he snaps back to awareness, flinching and angry, sinking the nails of one hand into Hector's hip and bracing him harder than he needs to.]
[Hector feels the prod of Isaac’s cock against his hole, heated and throbbing, but Isaac hesitates before shoving in.
It’s not out of concern for Hector, he’s sure of that. The nails clawing into his hip and leaving beads of blood are proof of that.
Teasing? The playful mood from their kissing is gone beyond recall, evaporated into dark cold of the cave.
Once more, Hector wants to turn and see Isaac’s face. He doesn’t. Isaac wants him bent for mounting like a dog.
He bucks backwards, nudging Issac to action. Hector’s angry with both of them about how this has turned out, but damned if he’s not going to at least date his darker urges now that he’s here.]
[Hector rocks into him, demanding. He feels it from half-outside his own body, feels his cock twitch in his hand with all the screaming impatience in the world while the rest of him slowly goes hollow, staring and staring at the slow trickle of blood he's drawn. Like he had, frozenly, powerless, at her torn dress, her bare legs, too late.
Not real, he insists, fiercely. She was never there, looking up at him with drowning eyes. But it had felt real enough to make his stomach swoop then and now, pushing bile up into his throat.)
He sucks down a breath. He doesn't know when the darkness around him and Hector grew cold, when it became intimately threatening. But there's an understanding that if he doesn't break through this moment pressing in on him, locking him in, it might just quietly break him instead.
Brute force isn't always the answer to everything, but it's often the quickest. And he remembers that neither him nor Hector expect anything less or better of him than for him to bullishly push through whatever wall he's hit. Anger is bigger than fear, because it has to be - and he clings to it as he doubles down and plunges into Hector, into the hot grip of tight, flexing muscle, chasing pleasure with everything he has.]
[Hector is better prepared for Isaac's entry this time around, both in knowing what to expect and having been prepped. Isaac shoves in, and Hector groans and ducks his head down between his arms. The pressure and relief and shame and anger have his eyes watering, and that's not something to let Isaac catch sight of.]
Yes, do it! [He grunts. His ass, slick and worked open, is ready, and he's greedy for it now. He can lose his thoughts of Rosaly and his aching heart in the pure animal rushing of blood to his cock.
He braces himself on one arm, muscles flexing with the strain of supporting his weight against Isaac's force, so that he can get a hand between his legs to frantically stroke. There's a steady breathy pant of 'yes'es streaming from his lips.]
[The one who penetrates holds the most power. He's always known that to be true.
A snap of his hips and he's in to the hilt, metal and swollen flesh and aggressive, iron desire, nails gouging deeper into Hector as he tugs him into the next thrust and the next, panting. He throws his head back, drowning in relief, sense and reason sinking with him. He thinks about fucking Hector brainless until blood slicks them both. Thinks about fucking him inside out and turning him over and laying his hands on him, slotting the webs of his thumbs around his throat and clamping his hands around him again just to feel the wild pulsing of muscles and blood vessels against the pads of his fingers. Relishing in the crazy thrill of toeing the line between here and too far gone while watching the stricken look in Hector's eyes soften as they glass over.
He's an animal. Taking and taking and taking. And Julia - if fate is so cruel as to bring them together again - could preach of the hope she held for everyone, could tell him he still had a human heart beating inside him. But he had seen the way she looked at him when she found him, alone, the year before Rosaly burned. He remembers the shades of hurt and doubt in her eyes, a look that seemed to say there was only so much more she could take of feeling like she was watching something slowly dying.
Not everyone can be saved. Not everyone wants to be.
What he know for sure is that it takes spearing Hector on his cock, hurting him, to come close to feeling alive. Like more than a dead man walking.
Nothing new. But he feels this open a pit in his stomach like it never has before, their ragged panting and the slap of skin on skin growing sharper and louder, scraping his eardrums.
He doesn't realize he has pulled out until he drops back, like the air's been slammed out of his lungs. Blood roars through him, a useless throbbing. His body has never failed him; it's begging for more, even if more is never enough. Even as he feels a deep, sick rage rolling through him and sucks in a breath through his teeth and knows it's over.]
Fuck! [He snarls at the wall, scrubbing a hand down his face.]
[Maybe the one on top has the power, but so long as the fucking doesn't stop, Hector doesn't care. It's a bruising, frenzied pounding, but there's not the same pain as last time. The burn and ache and the tearing of Isaac's nails are dwarfed by the blinding pleasure of the studded cock driving into him. Fuck, last time was too quick and brutal to focus on it, but the damned piercings....
Hector is close, so close, and his mind is blessedly empty of everything but the need for release, when Isaac jerks back and away. His hole body twitches with the sudden loss of heat and the emptiness.
For one beat, Hector waits to be re-mounted, but it's not just a momentary readjustment of position. He turns over his shoulder, flushed and panting and wild with need.]
There had better be enemies at our door....
[He growls, because if this is just another one of Isaac's power plays, and he's planning on leaving Hector teetering on the threshold of orgasm, Hector's going to need to murder someone.]
[Isaac jerks his head around to stare at him like he's been slapped, his chest heaving.]
Shut up!
[His voice tears through the dark, jagged and vicious.
Between Hector's desperation and his own hitting a peak, all of him is pulling apart at the seams. He grinds the heels of his hands into his forehead, into his eyes, until he sees stars, wanting to scream. It's tempting to drive his fist into the wall until his knuckles shatter. But it's as if his whole body has given out on him, consumed with a sense of helplessness as absolute and huge and terrible as the anger shaking his bones.]
Fuck me--! [He hears himself spit out the words like threat. He gulps down another breath through a sharp swooping feeling inside him, searching every part of himself for the man he knows he's supposed to be: the Isaac who would've looked at Hector now, flushed and trembly-weak and begging for cock, and let out a throaty laugh, the laugh of a mad king; the Isaac who fears nothing, looking for trouble before it could find them; the Isaac who could only sneer at the sad shell of a forgemaster he's become and pulp his skull against the rocks, doing them both a favour.]
[Hector’s eyes flick to the cave’s entrance, but there’s no sign of intruders. This is just Isaac in a panic.
He grits his teeth, and forces himself not to take Isaac’s cursing as an invitation. What had Rosaly done for him, when Hector had worked himself into a state of alarm when they’d been together?
Soft, reassuring words, feather-light touches, and a steady presence to draw him out of his own head and back into the light. All things that Hector craves that he imagines Isaac would laugh off.
It’s hard to think with most of his blood still pumping in his cock, but Hector tries. Grounding. Distraction. A physical reminder of his presence that Isaac can’t ignore.
He crawls over to Isaac, who is scrubbing at his face, and reaches out to hook fingers into his collar to drag him down into a kiss. Biting, bruising, filled with the taste of coppery blood.]
[By the time he notices Hector closing in, he's already got him by the collar, crushing his lips to Isaac's - a language that, unlike tenderness, is something Isaac understands. A snap of adrenaline shoots up his spine and his body locks for a moment, alarms screaming in his brain, cutting through a haze of nausea, arousal. A kiss is never just a kiss, not from Hector. Not while aggressively hard with no give in either of them, hot breath and lips and tongue suffocating him. Isaac's hand clamps around Hector's cock, still holding on when he wrenches his mouth from his, panting. His lips are raw, peeling back in a wolfish snarl. Slapping Hector's hand from his collar, he pulls back, feeling a sharp jolt of emotion - something jerking in his chest - when their eyes meet, his own fierce behind his lashes.]
Fuck. Me. [He pushes the words out, grits them out through his teeth, shoving against Hector as if he knows what he's doing. While the past and the present play tug of war for his sanity, pain may be the only thing that makes sense.]
[Hector follows forward as Isaac pulls back, not willing to surrender just yet. Needing pain, needing punishment, he can understand at least in part. He'd felt despair, early on with Rosaly, though she'd soothed it away with gentleness instead of forcing it down with pain and pleasure mingled.
He pushes further into Isaac's space, claiming his lips again while his hands push Isaac's legs down. He straddles Isaac, returning to the very position Isaac had rejected from the start. His cock, still in Isaac's death grip, prods Isaac's abdomen as Hector positions his ass so he could, if Isaac allows it, sink down and take it all in.]
'm not...fucking you...'til we have a proper bed....
[And on that day, he will have prepared Isaac for him, have worked him open 'til Isaac begged for more. That day will likely never come, but Hector has a vision of it and he's not going to let Isaac compromise it with a rash decision they'll both regret.]
...tell me you want it.... [He pants into Isaac's ear, then bites down on it. Not enough to mark or tear, but certainly enough to force Isaac to feel it, to make him stay within his own skin.]
[Isaac's lips push together, a hard, white line carved into his face.
The only thing more unexpected than hearing himself ask for - beg for - what he does and nearly convincing himself that he'd throw what's left of his pride and dignity for it, is being refused, and by a man seething with lust. By Hector.
He doesn't know what to do.
Nothing seems like it's really happening. Half-pushed and half-leaning back, he expects for the bottom of this fever dream to drop out and for him to fall through, to fall back into his body. Waking, like he has before, once or twice, to the reality that he isn't alone and there really is a succubus or incubus on him, grinding down on him, feeding off his energy. But the rocks burrowing into his shoulderblades and the goosebumps that chase the chill sweeping across his neck and chest feel real. And, lust or not, he's more wired than he should be for scraping by on a few hours of sleep.
He bristles when Hector mounts him, legs framing his hips. Like the victor. Were this anyone else, he'd have thought about twisting his fist and tearing their dick from the rest of their body, lodging it down their howling throat. And for just a moment, while Isaac stares into the face looming over his, Hector does become someone else, something else, his features flickering so subtly, shifting out of alignment, throwing everything he thinks he knows into question. It's like the spores all over again, filling his throat and lungs and every hollow in his skull.
His hands shift to brace Hector's waist when the man lies on top of him, the magic in Hector's blood and bones vibrating at a keening frequency in harmony with his own. Isaac shivers into him at the sly sting of teeth catching his earlobe, at his voice as it slides, boldly, under all the layers of scar tissue he's built up and pries them loose, lifting them away, wanting and not wanting and twisting his face away. A twitch curls his lip, his muscles tightening like an uncocked spring.
Then comes a knee-jerk burst of power, an effort to heave Hector off him, to flip him onto his back.]
[Hector knows Isaac wants him, can feel it in the electricity sparking between their bodies, but he won't force Isaac against his will. Push, yes, but not rob him of agency.
So Hector lets Isaac shove him back, but he seizes Isaac's wrists and pulls Isaac down on top of him, not letting him retreat from this.]
...fine, like this, then....
[He parts his legs to make room for Isaac's body between his thighs. His nails scrap Isaac's skin where he can get to it around his gauntlets. He glares up at Isaac, face flushed and demanding satisfaction.]
Fuck me like you would if you weren't a coward.
[Hector with either get himself fucked or strangled. Either way, he'll at least find some form of release by Isaac's hands.]
[With their long stint at the castle behind them, he never thought Hector had it in him to challenge him again, threaten his ego, to push back, much less while wounded and weak. And on some level he can see this for what it is: an attempt to goad him to action, urging him to finish what he started the way he's never left loose ends untied, before. But even knowing this, they are only ever a single word away, a single word at the right time - or wrong time, from waking a rage inside him that would see Hector dead in the ground.
With a cracked half-scream, he swings his forehead into Hector's, pain splitting into his skull, half-blinded by flashes of light and blood dripping into his eye as he winds back to hit him again. He jerks his hand free from Hector's grasp. His right finds his own cock and he pumps fiercely, a beast in heat, thighs and abdomen flexing and frantic energy popping off the ends of his nerves as his balls pull tighter, tighter. Huffing, he shudders and comes, finally, hot ropes slapping Hector's skin, over chest and face. As if all he is and ever will be is as good as the dirt he walks on. He wrings himself dry, his breath short and rasping and hard. No sense triumph or bitter satisfaction. Only anger boiling black in his veins, all of him shaking with unspent violence.
It crosses his mind to let Abel finish on his behalf. To give Hector more than he ever bargained, driving home his mistake with every brutal, tireless thrust. But he waits for another careless word out of Hector's mouth, as if he needs permission, an excuse.]
[The crack of Isaac's skull- the hardest part of him, by far- has Hector seeing spots for a moment.]
Fuck!
[He kicks and scoots himself back, though not in time to avoid the jets of seed Isaac squeezes out of himself.
That. Fucking. Bastard.
Hector's anger has always burned cold within him, and when he finally reaches the tipping point into fury, he goes quiet and distant.]
We're done.
[A low, unwavering tone. Hector stands while Isaac is still shuddering from orgasm, snatches his discarded pants from the ground beside him, and stalks out of the cave. The fairy flits out after him.]
[He hitches up his pants and smudges away the trickle of blood from his face, hardened to the note of icy finality Hector takes with him. They were done minutes ago, as far as he was concerned; they were done when he pulled out and sat off to the side, raw and vulnerable, and everything that came after is what Hector brought on himself.
The pain in his skull is like an ice pick chipping into it to the rhythm of his heartbeat. A vicious, nagging pain. But it's worth it.
He spits off the side, balefully watching Hector as he turns his back and leaves before he reclaims his cloak and slings it around his shoulders, summoning a glowing magic circle that whisks him away to the edge of the woods closer to the mountain pass. The space to breathe what he needs -- and in the silvery light and cool dew of the early morning, he unleashes his wrath on the first animal to wander into view and is left with more half-raw rabbit than he has the appetite for. But he's in no mood to share, not with Hector or other woodland creatures.]
[A long soak in the icy water of the pond freezes Hector's fury into numbness. He scrubs away every trace of Isaac from himself, inside and out. The fairy heals the torn skin on his hips and the welt forming on his forehead, and he puts an extraordinary amount of energy into healing the stab wounds until not even a scar remains.
The next time Isaac sees his bared chest --if he sees it at all, and Hector isn't planning on stripping for him again-- he will see that he has left no mark on Hector at all.
He finally wades back out of the pool when he looses feeling in his fingers and toes, and he lays out on the rocks to dry as the sun rises.
This is all his own fault. Hector should never have given in to his carnal desires. No more. Hector will take his satisfaction into his own hands, and rely on no on else from now on. It is what he should have done after Rosaly's death. Isaac can find some other warm body, if anyone else can stand to be around him long enough to finish the job.
Hector feels the feeble warmth of the rising sun, but he does not thaw. Future plans...where will he head now. Not back to Julia, except maybe to collect his belongings. That door, he closed the moment he fucked her brother. But having his weapons and supplies would be helpful.
He must find and rejoin Isaac eventually. Hector had let him live, and the lives that Isaac takes from now on will be on Hector's hands as well as his own. Hector has no purpose in life now, except to try to temper Isaac's darker impulses and make sure he does not wreck havoc on the common folk. It is Hector's penance and Isaac's punishment.
When he is dry enough to dress, Hector pulls on his pants and returns to the claim. That Isaac has left is no surprise. Hector gathers up the rest of his possessions and packs them up. The vague awareness he has of Isaac's presence feels like it is not too far off from Hector's chosen path, so he starts off that way.]
[It comes as no surprise, when he senses Hector's approach on the edges of his awareness. But it doesn't make it any less frustrating, reminding him that one of his many regrets is never learning how to suppress his magic and cloak his presence, making himself invisible to men and monsters. His pursuit of raw power had come first, starting early, from when he was still fresh meat among the human arrivals to the castle. For close to a year he'd request the same grimoires from the library, reading and rereading them cover to cover until he had memorized entire passages and basic magical seals, having no more need to glance over the notes he had taken.
Most of the library's keepers wouldn't give him or anyone else the time of day, absorbed in their own studies or with making copies of yellowing, disintegrating tomes when not preserving the dignity of the space and the priceless collection of books and maps and blueprints it housed through brute force. But after a whole year of the barest of exchanges between them, one demon scholar began sharing a few quotations from the latest philosophical text or work of poetry it was reading. Hell, boy, is not the world beyond these doors, but a door locked from the inside, it had told him, once. It all smacked of pretentious bullshit to Isaac, an annoying waste of time for a kid desperate to get his hands on some books on alchemy and devil forging. But it's only now that Isaac thinks he understands what it meant.
His mind is his own worst enemy. And he's rattled by how little it has taken for his defenses to crumble and for him to feel like a stranger in his own body and trapped in his own head, like he had for years, back when all it would take is a simple touch, a careless few words, to jack fury or panic into him.
That anger is all he has now, keeping him alive and alert and willing him to pay at least some attention to the path Hector's taking. It's not quite as much of a beeline towards him as Isaac suspected -- and he can only wonder what Hector's intentions are, hating that it matters in the least to him.
He might not know what to do with himself, but any thought of joining Hector on the road again has soured. Let him board a vessel and plunge to watery grave. If destiny called from the other side of the world, Isaac is sure he'd find a way across without him.]
Edited 2019-09-30 03:21 (UTC)
imma fudge some travel times here so Isaac doesn't have to wait around for days
[Isaac's locations stays static as Hector moves; he supposes Isaac has no need to hike when he can teleport where he wishes. It should be a full day's travel back, supposing he does not have to contend with the hunter attacks, injuries, and other distractions that had increased the time it had taken them to get this far out.
Hector takes it at a run, pushing his body more than he has since his quest for revenge. It's a relief to focus on the burn in his muscles, the cadence of his breathing. Unhindered by a traveling companion, other than his winged fairy, he can determine his own grueling pace.
He doesn't take the path that will cross with Isaac's, for now. He wants to do that when he's rested, properly supplied, and most importantly, completely cool-headed. So to Julia's cottage it is.
It is well into night when he reaches her home, but she rouses at the sound of his knock- a pattern they worked out together, to be cautious of her opening a door in a world of vampires and shapeshifters.
Hector's account of the past few days is brief and vague to the point of dishonestly, but Hector still gives Isaac enough respect to honor that wish of his. He makes no mention of another traveling with him, just that he'd been beset by hunters, wounded, and had needed to lead them away before he could return.]
It is safer for both of us for me to leave. I thank you, Julia, for your kindness and hospitality. Be well when I go.
[She sees in his eyes that he won't be persuaded otherwise, so with a sigh, she insists upon at least seeing him fed and rested before he wanders off into the wild unknown. She reheats some stew for Hector's dinner, and they divide up his devils as he eats. Julia is bequeathed Hector's strongest battle type Rasetz for protection, a Crow to keep watch without drawing too much attention, and a chef Pumpkin, in theory to help with cooking and chores, but really because Hector can think of no other use for it. Julia will accept no more fully-forged devils than that, saying the shards she still has will be more than enough.
When Hector sets out at dawn, he does so with his inventory full weapons, coin pouch, and enough supplies to actually support him on a journey. He also goes with Julia's resigned blessing, which lifts a weight he had not realized had been burdening him so heavily.
Turning back one last time to wave at Julia before she fades from view, Hector then takes a deep breath and reaches out his senses to pinpoint Isaac's direction. It is time for their reunion.]
[The small castle he returns to is not home in any sense.
More of its stonework has crumbled in his absence, though it otherwise has largely remained the same, frayed tapestries and rugs and furnishings slowly rotting away and the few books left on it shelves blackening with mold. But it offers a roof over his head he doesn't care enough to mind sharing with spiders and snakes and the odd, wandering ghost. There's no point putting work into repair and reinforcements on a larger scale when he doesn't imagine staying long. It's just a place to haul in and skin carcasses from the hunt, to eat and rest, and consider his next move as Hector closes in. The world feels smaller and smaller by the hour as he does, and the silence doesn't help. Just magnifies his bleaker inner-narratives in the echo chamber that is his skull, his wariness sharpening as he waits up in a tower for sounds other than the wind whistling through the cracks it finds in wood and stone and glass.
His growing restlessness sees him flexing his magical prowess, daring to break away from existing templates and visual references to create new creatures from his own visualizations instead. It's harder than it has any right to be after the years of practice he's poured into the devil's art; but he knows, as the ancient incantation rolls off his tongue and he gathers his energy into the palms of his hands, drawing one of the lingering spirits from the castle walls to toy with, that his headspace isn't what it should be, what it could be. With Hector more on his mind than he isn't, Isaac ends up giving shape to a screeching, swollen mass of flesh and bone fighting for life. The second struggling, desperate attempt is less abstract in form: a beast-demon that thrashes into being like Abel had in its earliest evolutions, lashing out at him and drawing blood before it bends to his steely will. It's an imperfect being in all regards: small and asymmetrical, patches of its tawny fur missing along its chest and back. While responsive enough to commands, it stares blankly when left on its own, not noticing or recognizing the threat in a spider nearby that rears up on its back legs until it has already been bitten.
Isaac growls, refusing to give either mistake of his a name.
He's always taken failure hard. But he has the sense, even the maturity, to remember that, when it comes to dabbling with magic, setbacks are only temporary and his persistence would be rewarded. There has always been a sense of fairness, that way, when it comes to working with magic. Someday, he's sure he could surpass what was thought possible and impossible. Maybe even coast briney ocean air currents on a devil's back, casting a shadow over vessels slicing through the water below. It's something to look towards, to work towards. A thought he takes to the wooden tub with him where he soaks for a while, scrubbing a film of grime and sweat and blood off his skin, still feeling dirty afterwards. But it's not too long before another thought shoves its way to the forefront of his mind and sticks when he settles into one of the beds.
Sleep never comes, and at dawn he can't stand it anymore, cursing everything under the sun as he throws on the armour and leathers he had only just cleaned and sets out into the woods to meet Hector halfway, sword in hand. His expression darkens, his nerves on edge. That Hector and Julia met last night doesn't need confirming; he knows what he felt. It's the question of whether Hector's word still means anything at all that is begging for an answer, curiosity and suspicion eating him alive.]
You came all this way seeking my sister's company -- why?
[He demands, forgoing a more civil greeting. But at this point, his scathing bluntness should come as no surprise.]
[Traveling with Isaac these past few days has strengthened Hector's sense for him, and he senses Isaac's presence before he shows himself. Hector is armed now, but doesn't have steel bared. The fairy is gone, replaced for now with a wingosaurus, which he has been using to shorten his journey by gliding down the mountain.
Hector is dressed in a fresh pair of clothes, a new sash around his waist, looking as put together and aloof as he ever did in the castle.]
I went to collect my things, and to make sure she is well. Julia is compassionate, and leaving her to worry over my fate did not rest well with me.
[He knows what Isaac really wants to know, but in this regression into the colder version of himself, before Rosaly had melted through his walls of ice, he does not offer the information. If Isaac cares to know, he will have to ask it.]
[He meets that coolness and distance with disdain, teeth and claws out, ready to draw blood while the weaker, wounded parts of himself pull deeper inside him. Shoulders squared and chin tipped up, it's as though what happened in and around and the cave was never more than a sweat-soaked dream and he hadn't left feeling shaken and unbalanced. But the resentment in his eyes says otherwise.
He lifts his seven bladed sword to point at him with it. Gloved hand squeaking as it tightens around the hilt.]
What did you tell her?
[It's not like Hector to hurt her, not even out of spite for him. But he needs to hear it, needs to search his face for any trace of a lie if and when he says it.]
[Hector pauses before responding, just a little longer than needed. The old Hector, the Hector at the castle, never jumped to answer to anyone but Lord Dracula. He pulls that old persona around him like a cloak against the cold.]
Nothing about you. She still thinks you dead.
[The drawn sword and the hostile tone are nothing. That Isaac thinks that Hector would be so petty as to run to tell Isaac's secret? That offends him. It's a confirmation that he is best off keeping his distance.]
Where were you? Off at your castle?
[That was the right direction, and the right level of melodrama....]
[There's no sweeping sense of relief, hearing this; when he finally lowers his blade, his breath is still tight in his lungs and there's a readiness to his stance, as if something might jump out from the trees at any moment. They fucked here, only a few feet away, the air between them thrumming with another memory he's tired of keeping alive, giving so much of his power to. A lot has changed and hasn't changed at all in a week's time.
He's not sure what he expected when they banded together and set off, for Julia's sake - and in a way, he's grateful he's had the chance to see more of Hector, enough to suppose that he's better off breaking the last of this monstrous codependency and living alone but free than keeping the company of a man intent on controlling him, softening his edges, robbing him of his choice to end his life if and when he sees fit. He has survived without Hector before, for years, and he would again.
There's little left to say that he's willing to talk about. It has always been a challenge, the act of willingly exposing some emotion other than rage, let alone letting himself feel it. And now a wall has come back up between them that neither may be able to break through again.]
Yes - [a muscle jumps at the corner of his jaw] ...although I'm afraid there is no vacancy.
[He finds himself eager to return to his work, if sleep won't have him.]
Nonetheless, if you are bound to return there, I am coming. You’ll have to make room.
[It won’t happen without a fight; Isaac is worse than a wild horse, bucking at any sort of rein. Hector expects to be attacked, or for Isaac to teleport away and leave Hector to chase after. Hector’s penance, indeed.
He doesn’t draw a weapon, but his stance is open, ready to dodge or summon up a devil to serve him if he needs it.]
How many times have we parted this week, only to find ourselves forced back together? We may as well accept that our destinies are intertwined.
[A sick little laugh bubbles up in his throat.] ...Is that so?
[He was prepared for pushback and channels his fight into generating a portal for himself, his exit plan, willing to bounce around from one location to another ad nauseum to make a point. All the more incentive to invest more time and ambition into devil forging until he gained the means of pushing even further out, far enough to put Hector out of his mind and attempt to fill that gaping void he'd leave behind with something else.]
I escaped one curse already; I have ill need of another. [He declares, unsmiling. The sigil's steady, pulsing glow accentuates his sloping nose, the unyielding sharpness of his jaw.] Perhaps we shall meet again in ten years' time, assuming you haven't managed to drown yourself in the ocean.
[Isaac and his little teleportation trick. It would be more impressive if Hector hadn't seen him teleport himself away countless times before.
Part of Hector thinks he should just leave, and let Isaac rot away in his castle. Isaac would be upset if he drowned, he imagines; an end to Hector that didn't involve him.
But there's the dead and the living to think of. If Isaac is left to his own devices, more people will die.]
Go on ahead, if you must. I'll be there in a few days.
[There's no smugness in his tone. It's pure matter-of-fact. Hector's not going to wear himself out rushing there, but his arrival is inevitable. Isaac can play cat and mouse all he wants. The truth is, Hector has nothing better to do than follow.]
[Days bleed into weeks, weeks into months; the days grow longer and warmer and then cool off again, and it's not until they're deep into autumn's chill that Isaac grows annoyed of zagging from place to place and builds his life around the West Wing his tower, leaving Hector to make a place for himself anywhere else in the castle. There's no offer made to help; letting him in was never an act of forgiveness or grace or generosity. If Hector couldn't respect him enough to have kept his distance, than he deserves nothing in turn, and, in Isaac's mind, should consider himself lucky to be alive.
With no real means of keeping him out, Isaac settles for slowing his progress with a lock and a magical seal on the door at the top of the stone stairs winding up the tower, so he can at least hear him coming when he's too deep in his experiments - or deep between the legs of the occasional demonic guest lured over by the surges of magic his work is generating - to sense Hector's approach early.
While he's made headway on the forging front, it's still not enough. The pursuit of perfection consumes him like a fresh obsession: he forgets to eat or skips it willingly, time slipping away from him as he throws himself into trial after trial, aggressively challenging his creations through exposure to stress and attack and pain in a bid to will them to evolve sooner, until they're both wholly exhausted.
Tonight he's hit another wall and has the sense to step away from his worktable before smashing it in half, hoping to clear his head. His latest devil - a wingless black dragon barely the length of two hands - takes in the world from its perch up on his pauldron while he leans up against the outer wall and closes his eyes a moment, filling his lungs with his first breath of raw, bracing air in nearly two days.]
[Hector follows after Isaac as he flees, and eventually ends up at the castle. Isaac hasn't violently expelled him, so Hector takes it as tacit invitation and picks a set of rooms to move into. While Isaac forges, Hector renovates his quarters. Isaac cares little about keeping himself fed, so Hector hunts and brings back game, which he cooks. Half of what he makes, he leaves out for Isaac. It goes unclaimed when Isaac is in the middle of a project, but Hector is not about to break into his tower to shove a meal down his throat. The worse breach of privacy he engages in is sending a bird or a fairy to make sure he still breaths if Isaac doesn't surface for a few days.
Hector tans the hides of his game for blankets and uses the down from slaughtered fowl to make a cushion, and soon enough he has a comfortable little bed to sleep in. It's a strange life, but not a bad one.
He worries for Isaac, though he tries not to let it show. His rival's work borders on obsession, far more than Hector's ever did. Some of the forged creatures he creates feel wrong. Hector had benefited from Dracula's tutelage in his youth, but it seems Isaac hadn't been afforded all of the same privileges.
So Hector takes up his hammer once more, and begins to practice again. It's the only true connection he has with Isaac, now that whatever was growing between them chocked and died that morning in the cave. Hector doesn't want to compete with Isaac; he wants to tempt Isaac to work with him. Even when they both served in Dracula's war, they had never actually collaborated. If there is to be a breakthrough, Hector thinks it would come from that.
Isaac hides away in his tower as he forges, but Hector takes to doing his work out in the open. On this particular morning, he is outside, (not unintentionally) beneath the window to Isaac's tower. He is working on a new project, building off of the pumpkin devil idea, but with a base of thorns and corpseweed. Mostly he wants to see if he can give the design some sort of use.
He goes through the motions slowly and precisely, demonstrating the foundations of forging that have always come naturally to him, but that could give another forgemaster trouble if they didn't know them. Isaac hasn't looked out the last few times he's forged out here, but today could be the day.]
[While awake, he's able to dampen if not filter out his awareness of the sorcery and spellwork of others by concentrating his own. But asleep, he's defenseless. And like a cold draft, Dracula's magic creeps through stone and into the dreamless darkness behind his eyes, prodding him to consciousness, little by little, until he wakes again, hissing as he rubs his raw, heavy eyelids and drags his hands down his face. With the irregularity of his sleep schedule these days - lying down only when he's fed his devils everything he has to give and splitting headaches from long hours of intense, unbroken focus and self-neglect have interfered - it's not the first time Hector's pursuits have served as an alarm clock. He tosses aside his furs and sits up, letting himself stew in groggy bitterness a minute before making for the barred window. He knuckles away blood-grit from under his nose and shakes his head clear, looking out on the scene.
Devil Forging? On HIS lawn?
The sight of Hector below stirs up a mean desire for a bucket of bubbling pitch from the days of defending the castle from raids on the part of the church's so-called army, though more of him just wants to bury himself under his blankets for another hour and disappear from the world. Hector is doing this on purpose - of this, he has no doubt. And it's hard not to consider it a challenge, when Hector hasn't shown this much interest in devil forging since they swore their loyalty to the dark lord.
He closes his eyes, the world feeling like its spinning even while he stands perfectly still.
With the memory comes the hot sting of something approaching jealous. Inescapable.]
What do you want?
[Months of avoidance, and yet it feels like they haven't missed a beat.]
[Hector turns his face up to the window, masking any signs of triumph from his visage. He's pleased, though, to have finally broken through their standoff.]
I want nothing. [That is a lie. He wants to be noticed, to find some way to connect to Isaac, to have some small piece of evidence that his time here hasn't been wasted.
He takes a step back from the partially-conjured mass of plant and crystal so Isaac has line-of-sight on it.]
Should I give it true arms, or leave it with vines and focus on imbuing them with poison?
[Hector doesn't really care about the destructive properties of his creation. For him, the intellectual puzzle is the interesting part, how he can balance his design with the strange laws governing magical physics. But hey, if he makes it strong, it can act as a guard-plant for the castle and keep out potential invaders.]
[He folds his arms, shifting his weight. He isn't sure what he's looking at, when Hector steps away, though it's his answer that has him rolling his eyes more than anything else.]
It's your damned devil. [A beat.] ...Or a pathetic excuse for one.
[He can't remember a time when Hector consulted him on how to proceed on any of his own projects, but he's also wise to Hector's intentions to, as he sees it, weasel his way back into the closest thing to his good graces as he can get. It's like Hector's offering left untouched - none of these efforts equate to an admission of guilt, to an apology. But Isaac also realizes that if he ever heard one, someday, it wouldn't be of much use to either of them because nothing could be changed. The damage is done, and to forgive would mean that he's found some semblance of peace with Hector and with himself, with the hate and anger and fear that still shakes him in the cold, still hours of the night. It's possible Hector doesn't even know where he misstepped, or that he had at all; it's hard to say with the way they can dance around each other for years if they wanted to, smouldering and guarded, not saying what they mean.
Words can have fearsome power. Words can be mirrors. They can take memories and stir fire from the ashes, bringing pain roaring to life. For all his self-loathing, he doesn't want to explain, to talk to Hector about the demons of the past that have gone unconquered and relive his failures, opening himself up to pity or disgust, to any sort of judgment. He does enough to himself, on his own.]
Do not think I cannot see this ruse of yours for what it is. 'tis not my opinion that you want.
[Hector shrugs a shoulder up at Isaac. Just as friendly and chipper as ever, it seems.]
'tis not all I want, but I would be curious as to your thoughts all the same.
[But it is not as if Hector can pry them out unwilling, so he does not press more than that.]
We could test them, your creature against mine. [Hector makes the offer lightly, trying to feel Isaac out. Isaac is fiercely competitive, but if he looks with a cool head, he might see the value in such a match. There is no better way of assessing a forged creature's strengths and weaknesses than to see it in action.
It is also an excuse to be in the same area of the keep at the same time, which is so rare these days. Hector doesn't know how to mend what's been broken between them, but whatever steps there are, they won't happen at a distance.]
...one test. [He says, finally, disappearing from the window.
Trading his robe for a heavy winter cloak, one with a collar he can pull up to cover his nose and mouth, he locks his study and makes his way down on foot. The devil that keeps at his side for now is unlike most of Isaac's works, in that its design prioritizes form over function. It has no horns, no jagged, bony plates, or teeth like a mouthful of broken glass. From the waist up, its shape is even unmistakeably human, sculpted with a poetic attention to detail, from eyelashes and fingernails to the bony knobs of its wrists and the tendons threading its long, lean arms. A tribute to the beauty of a man in his youth. Isaac has given it hair, curls that fall to the shoulder and skin that looks so soft it could bruise, white on white. On its head sits a delicate, equally pale antler crown not unlike a crown of thorns, that glitters with crystal shards.
It doesn't walk; not in the traditional sense. Below the navel, its body tapers sharply into a pillar of blood-red tendrils that flex and slither and help move it along, like prehensile ropes of gut.
Isaac didn't create it with the intent to fight with it so much as to test the level of complexity and detail he's able to incorporate at this stage - a worthwhile effort, even if he had nearly killed himself by way of overexertion. But he's content to let this mock-angel challenge Hector's beast and let Hector believe his focus is simply on his creatures' usefulness in battle and on aimless experimentation while he continues to work towards the ultimate goal of forging his own transport.]
This devil is meant to poison at the touch, although this has yet to be put to the test.
[It turns its head, regarding Hector with gentle indifference. It has Trevor's jaw and Hector's lips, but there's nothing of Isaac in its face or its smooth, scarless torso.]
[Hector's eyes widen as Isaac emerges with his creation. He was expecting a monstrous horror...
...he wonders, with a stab of jealousy, if Isaac fucks it.
Hector turns back to his plant-monster and kneels. He channels his power into it to spark it to life as-is, with thin, thorny tendrils and a large bud that blooms into a razor-sharp corpseweed.
It unfurls and rises, using its roots and vines like spindly spider legs. It looks cartoonish set against the sculpted, morbid beauty of Isaac's creation.]
Mine is venomous as well. They might nullify each others' toxins. I can summon another devil if you want a better test of your devil's touch.
[Hector won't without Isaac's say; he's too likely to take it as an admission of defeat.]
[The day is clear and bright, but the crisp bite to the air wills him to keep his cloak clasped against both the wind and the sun. It's been long enough that he's nearly forgotten what the velvety warmth of it on his skin feels like, and likely would until the forest thawed in spring.
If there's any gentler emotion felt while making his approach and standing closer to Hector than he has in a long time, his eyes hold none of it. His face - sharper around the edges, bruise-like shadows darkening his eyelids - only speaks to what self-imposed isolation has done to him on a physical level. His gaze drifts over Hector as if his presence is little more than an afterthought before he turns his attention toward the plant creature as it rustles and writhes to life, towering over his own.]
No. [Crossing his arms.] Not yet. Should it lack resistance, I will know this now.
[Better any of Hector's devils than offering his own flesh in the name of alchemy, which he had been prepared to do when better rested.
A few of the mock-angel's long tentacles uncoil, reaching for the corpseweed. Slowly, thoughtfully, like how a person might feel their way through the dark to touch someone lying next to them. It probes a leaf and the length of a spiny vine, then the head of the corpseweed itself, curious. Isaac looks to his devil's face for a flicker of shock or pain, but its expression is calm, still, even as one of its tendrils touch a barb and retract, curling back into itself.]
...Immune, it would seem. [He drawls, flatly, after a time.]
[Hector watches, silent, as the two forged devils meet. Isaac's sculpture moves gracefully, gentling, and it's clear that it is not meant to fight. To kill, maybe, if its touch carries poison, but not to partake in the violence Isaac usually breeds into his creatures.
Hector wonders, unsettled, what this creature is made for.
His corpseweed spreads its leaves, forming a serrated barrier between itself and its foe. The plant has more offensive capabilities than just that- needles it can shoot, vines it can thrash, a puff of poisoned pollen, though Hector thinks he will never command the devil to use that, after that fateful night.
He focuses purely on defense in this match, though. He doesn't want to strike out at the innocent devil with the angel's face. He doesn't want to know if it bleeds.]
We are at an impasse, then.
[With a silent command, the corpseweed closes its leaves and begins to dig its roots into the soil. Soon enough, it has reverted to its bud form.]
There's wine and venison stew in the kitchens. You can warm yourself up before you return to your tower. If you want to do another test later on, you can use any of my other devils.
[He won't pretend the convenience of a ready-made meal and the taste of wine isn't desperately tempting after weeks of making do with unseasoned meat and berries, keeping away from more than a sip at the bottle as not to dullen his senses. But this is what Hector wants. He wants him to fold, fostering a codependency for reasons Isaac can guess at, but that he tells himself don't matter to him. Anything Hector has to offer will only hold him back.
How cautiously and carefully Hector is laying his bait, though, he thinks. A far cry from the Hector Isaac saw in that cave, aggressive and daring, grabbing him because he could, and get away with it. It's the only Hector he trusts as real.
He looks away from a breeze fretting one of the castle's ragged banners and stares into his eyes, blood pumping in his head and pushing at his sinuses. His devil turns from the plant-creature and looks on, impassive.]
To me, you could oh so nobly offer the clothes off your back [he seethes, lowly] and your life - and 'twould make no difference at all. You have shown me who you are...
[A corner of his mouth goes up, but it's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.]
...under all your preaching of kindness and mercy, and these hollow gestures made in some insulting attempt at conciliation. [A step closer, closing the distance.] Make no mistake: you are a beast as much as I, Hector - only you hide behind your masks, and your gentility, and then think it your right, your duty, to still my hand when I seek to strike down those who would have my head. [A snarl wrinkls his nose.] There is nothing on this earth that will absolve you of all the blood you spilled in service to the Dark Lord, and I will not have you drag me into your desperate pursuit of forgiveness.
[Isaac's words are like a physical blow to his stomach. He turns away, fists and teeth clenched.]
You think I don't know that I'm hell-bound? There is no redemption for my soul.
[And no reunion with his love. Hector can never clean the stain of blood off of his hands, but he can stop adding new layers to it. He can stop hurting others. It's a clumsy, doomed effort, but that does not absolve him of the burden of trying, for the sake of the people who aren't irrevocably damned. Isaac wouldn't understand.]
Go eat, Isaac. It's just food. I won't join you.
[He wants to take a page out of Isaac's book, and lock himself up in his rooms so he can lick his wounds in solitude.]
[His eyes burn cold. He stays rooted to the spot, the muscles in his chest tight around his ribs like loops of rope.
Another man could have stepped back and taken that out, fuming in silence, because confrontations and the sheer, full-bodied energy it takes to sustain the anger that he has for this long are exhausting. But he's not here to make life more convenient for Hector, to make things more pleasant for Hector when, most days, he's barely functional at best, relieved when he's so bone-tired from overwork that he doesn't dream at all.]
Fuck your soul. Fuck redemption. [Said with a deathly calm, every word laced with venom.] They matter not a damned thing. We will all burn -- the only difference from one wretch to the next is that some will sooner than others. If you are not in any hurry, then you would best hear me now, for I shall say this but once more: my life is not yours to meddle with as it suits you... and I am not yours to mold into more pleasing a shape. I am not yours.
[His throat moves, jaw sharpening. He doesn't blink.]
[If the previous accusations deflated Hector, this new one fills him back up with cold anger. Hector turns back to Isaac, an incredulous look on his face.]
I haven't touched you, Isaac. It's just food. You need it to live. What is it about my presence that has you so afraid?
[Because that's what it is, isn't it? This refusal to accept any help, these protestations of a relationship that isn't there. Isaac is threatened, and is baring his teeth in response.
They are both just animals in the end. Isaac, the feral cat, hissing at anyone who gets too close, and Hector, the domesticated dog who keeps coming back no matter how many times he takes those claws to the face.
He snorts and shakes his head.]
Fine, eat or starve. You're right- you belong to none but yourself. If you choose to waste away into your grave, I can do nothing but watch it happen. You've made that very clear.
[He's hit with a hot surge of outrage and incredulity of his own, fury punching through his veins.]
You tread on thin ice!
[He hisses into his face, hating how Hector tears him down, painting him as someone who has never fed or fended for himself, a life spent entirely at the mercy of others' generosity. Hating how viciously every word cuts to the bone, even if, with every gash Hector opens, comes the bitter relief of knowing he hadn't surrendered his body in a moment's recklessness, and to someone this determined to make him feel lowly and weak, an ugly helplessness all over again.]
Much good it is being lord when you will not bend to me.
[Hector is beyond his control - but he knows this better now than he ever has, forced to acknowledge his presence in spaces he never meant to share, and to remember how suddenly the feeling of his touch on his skin had changed, putting him on edge.
A coward, Hector had called him then. Neither of them thinking it possible, maybe, for Isaac - a wolf in human skin - to keep from following through and fucking Hector into the ground, because that's what he's supposed to have done. Throw his head back and laugh, drunk on the power of having dragged Hector down to his level, making a miserable, needy wreck of him.]
If you meant to do me a kindness, then you would have left this place a very long time ago. But your lingering here is and has always been in your best interest, hasn't it?
[Isaac doesn't want him here, doesn't think he needs him here, but Hector saw him nearly die thrice. Hector is here as a two-fold shield, to protect the world from Isaac, and to protect Isaac from the world.]
And as I recall it, you didn't want me bent. Would you have that of me now, a thrall to your whims?
I would not have to ask. 'twas you who all but threw yourself onto my cock, like a bitch in heat, when I had wanted nothing more to do with you. [He chuckles. It scrapes in his throat, humourless.] You got what you deserved.
[Color rises in Hector's cheeks, for all his resolve to be cool and distant.]
That was a particularly dissatisfying lapse of judgement, and one that does not bear repeating.
[Hector takes matters into his own hands now since then, although he's pretty sure at least one succubus has come sniffing around the borders of Isaac's keep, drawn by the tension he can't quite relieve on his own.
He looks at Isaac, with his gaunt face and dark-ringed eyes, working himself to death, and thinks they are both getting what they deserve.]
[He looks away, a cold, remote feeling coming over him again while he stands there, his nails piercing the palms of his gloves. It's unfair, being mired with regret while Hector lets that same night wash off him like nothing happened, with a matter-of-factness to his tone that is almost properly convincing. Hector may be hurting, but he isn't bleeding openly. Still has some dignity for a man who had downright begged for cock.
His fists squeeze tighter.]
I could have snapped your neck.
[No trace of remorse or uncertainty colours his voice. Could've - even should've, something whispers to him - left a body in the cave for the rats to find, like those of the few demons he has shoved out the tower window they came through in the last half year, their laughter still ringing in his ears. But he hadn't, Isaac thinks, having laid back and let things happen, and for longer than they should've. Lost and dizzied with lust, running hot and cold. He can feel a twinge of phantom pain in his forehead, though the wound closed long ago. Nothing left of it but a memory; the only thing a devil's healing couldn't smooth away.]
No, you couldn’t have. At least admit that much- neither of us is going to kill the other.
[They are doomed to dance around one another, never bringing it to an end. Hector has accepted it, and the fact that Isaac hasn’t is infuriating.
He narrows his eyes at Isaac.]
What was it that made you stop that morning? I couldn’t have hurt you, in that position.
[He’s replayed it in his mind, cast through various lenses of regret, anger, and confusion, and it has never made sense to him. Isaac smacking his head when he tried to press on, yes, but what cause was there for that initial retreat?]
[He snaps, unsure who between them he's trying more fiercely to convince and frustrated that there is any convincing to be done at all. That Hector must consider him delicate and fragile - like a woman, his mind suggests, unhelpfully - if he thinks of himself as an actual threat.
Between Hector and the demons he's had, up against walls and pressed into floors and bent over his worktable, Isaac can't deny that there's no comparison: Hector is stronger than the company he chooses to keep. But what Hector also has that they don't are inhibitions. And though he has some fight in him when desperate - Isaac better understands this now, not all of him wary of it - he has never seemed to share his hunger for power and control. Not to the same extent, anyway, or they may not have both been alive to have this conversation.]
Then why? You asked for a warm body, and I gave it to you.
[He clings, stubbornly, to the fact that he had delivered on his promise. Hector hadn’t performed poorly; Hector’s lovers, few though they were, did not leave his bed unsatisfied.]
Yes, [he whirls on him, an accusation sharp in his tone] and I changed my mind! 'twas not what I had wanted - and that is all!
[A few beats pass. His breath comes in harsh, rasping pants, shoulders locked. No danger here - though his heart won't stop kicking at his ribs like it wants out. It takes an incredible effort just to will his hands to open, to stay loose at his sides.]
You did enough. [He adds, lowly, eyeing him.] ...You served your purpose.
[Hector bites back a retort that Isaac should have known what he was getting, he liked it enough the first time around. No, be cool. Collected. He huffs out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.]
Well, regardless of what you want or don't want, it won't happen again.
[Gods, he wishes he sounded resolute when he said it. As if all it would take to break that resolve wouldn't be for Isaac to show up at his bed chambers and demand it.]
[He turns away, silent, needing space to breathe. But he has the sense the even whole courtyard to himself wouldn't be enough. Maybe not even the entire country.
He leans up against a dead tree, and slides down it into a crouch after a while, realizing his hands have clenched again on their own. Which is just as well when he can feel a trembling in his fingers. It's just the exhaustion catching up to him. Just the stress he's placed himself under, funneling as much of his lifeforce into his creations as he could. Just the cold. There are no shortage of excuses he can tell himself, and not a single one of them is honest, and he could live with that. He could live with silence, he tells himself.
But the words are crawling up his throat with nowhere else to go anymore, forcing their way through his gritted teeth.]
I saw her. [He tells the ground; the only way he can say it.] My sister. I heard her screams and knew not it was her until her body lay bloody and broken at my feet.
[His fingers push through his hair. Snatching fistfuls of it, knuckles blanching, pressed tight to his skull.]
'twas all a fucking lie!
[He breathes and breathes, his sides heaving, his eyes darting over the ground in desperate search of something.] ...She was never there, in the woods; I feel her now, up on the mountain. Alive. But I can still hear her, begging for mercy while she is ruined and torn apart.
[A cold, queasy dread shifts in the pit of his stomach.]
[Hector's voice comes out as a whisper, gruff with horror. The visions Hector had seen that night...they were nothing in comparison to what Isaac had suffered.]
I'm sorry. I didn't know. [There is a cliff that spans between what Isaac needs and what he will accept, so Hector steps near the tree and kneels, but doesn't reach out to touch him. Isaac's love for his sister is the only piece Hector has seen of him that is good. For that to be so perverted....
Gods, he wishes he possessed Rosaly's patience and gentleness to try to bring some modicum of comfort to Isaac.]
I know that you know she is safe...and what you saw will never come to pass.... She is protected. My strongest innocent devils keep watch over her. She will have forewarning of any threat, mortal or supernatural, and between her wards and the forged creatures who reside with her, she will be safe.
[Hector knows that Isaac knows all of that, and that the knowledge will not stave off the memories that come in dreams. Only time and numbness will do that.]
[He stares hard at the ground, hearing and not hearing, his ears roaring. Hector is an arm's length from him and a world away, his aura crashing over him. Waves pounding and pounding at an unmoving rock. Isaac can't bring himself to confront what he thinks he'll find in that face, self-disgust already curling hot in his gut.]
She was wise never to have followed me.
[He hisses.
To the castle, he means. Six years his junior and wise beyond her years, the gift of foresight aside. How could he have protected her when he couldn't protect himself? When it had taken him three years, three years too long, to bring Abel's first form into being? His first devil with a whiplash temper to match his own and strength that he could count on. Strength that let him fear the vulnerability of sleep just a little less knowing that for every unkind thing breathing at his door, smelling anxiety and human flesh, there were gentler eyes watching the rise and fall of his side. A guardian at his bedside that could wound and kill unprompted, prepared to save him in ways he wishes it had been there to do when his own hand and dagger had failed him.
Hector can't promise him anything. But if there's any justice in the world, any at all, then Julia wouldn't ever know that same fear with those devils at her side. She'd never be alone.]
She had stayed in Cordova, saying goodbye to a brother whose existence had gone unspoken about, a nameless baby unmeant to have lived; he left for the castle, never looking back.
He wouldn't bow to a creature and was broken, given something he could never give back; only a day after, he had wiped his nose and dried his face and picked himself up, setting to work forging his first spear before he had even learned how to used it.
She looked him right in the eyes while Cordova was falling, the two of them alone in a house, and he could see in her face she was scared by the Isaac she saw; he let her run, sending his men the other way.
He isn't sure if Julia is smarter than either of them, when what he did was only what he felt was right. What had felt like the only real choice he could make and live with. But she is more patient, more graceful. More deserving than them of a life better than the hand she was dealt. But it is what it is.
Isaac lets his hands fall, reluctantly. They dangle between his knees, opening and closing; he looks up, briefly, only to answer.]
'twas a damned patch of myconid. Crimson found them first, burning to ashes what it could before they vanished into the earth.
All that, and done by pure chance by creatures who bear no malevolence toward us. Damn....
[That is shit luck, though Hector should be used to that by now. But the fact that it wasn't a targeted attack almost makes it worse. At least then, he could fine a purpose in it, could formulate a plan to defend himself or even avenge himself. There is a certain helplessness in being the victim of a random attack.]
I've seen no sign of any more nearby, but I will look out for it especially next time I venture out.
[He will have to train his devils to recognize it and respond to it as they do to more animated threats.]
[Isaac stares dully at his hands, kneading his wrists, fingers keeping busy to keep from shaking. He's not in the frame of mind to consider the possibility of another freak accident of that sort, or to really care. The whole keep could be overrun tomorrow, blanketed in floury myconid spores, and he'd hardly know the difference when reality and illusion blurred. His blackest thoughts already lie too close to the surface of his mind, and giving some of that pain a voice has only made his throat hurt and his chest grow tighter, as if his body is resisting the idea of finding relief, afraid of him knowing something different.]
I am no fragile waif in need of your protection.
[He rasps, latching onto a different thread of their conversation, one they keep circling back to only to arrive to the same infuriating conclusion every time: that Hector doesn't seem to think he's strong enough on his own.]
Think you that I flit about the castle being waited on hand and foot, fed and bathed and dressed, while others yet fought my battles for me? That I would shrivel and die without your intervention?
[He shoots him a cutting look, baring his teeth.]
I am a devil forgemaster! [Stabbing a finger into his chest:] I bled for this!
I don't believe you need anything from me, Isaac. You fight for everything goddamned thing you do. But there is no sense in you redoubling efforts I am already making. I have to make food for my own purposes, so why should you not also benefit from that, so that you can devote more of your time to your other efforts?
[Hector is half-exasperated that he has to explain specialization, a basic pillar of human society, to Isaac, and half-saddened that Isaac probably doesn't believe he can allow himself to rely on anyone else. He presses on.]
It is not pampering for me to be on guard of an enemy we've both run foul of. It would be foolhardy for me not to be.
[He leans back and lifts an eyebrow at Isaac.]
As for 'waiting on you' and 'bathing and dressing' you, I haven't proposed that. Granted, I think you could benefit from giving yourself a break; that is true of almost anyone. If you allowed yourself a massage, or a nice bath, I bet you'd be twice as productive in the lab as you've been while driving yourself to exhaustion.
[Gods, if Isaac would consent to allow Hector to pamper him, just for an hour, Hector absolutely would do it. Because Isaac doesn't need anyone to care for him, but Hector needs someone to take care of.]
[Hector makes it sound so effortless. Giving in, reaching for the rare helping hand when it's offered. He has always struggled with being told that his way of doing anything is inefficient or wrong, that his best isn't good enough, but he can't deny any more than he can admit aloud that what Hector is telling him does make sense; he can recognize that his own bitterness has turned him away from making more sensible, pragmatic choices.
All that's come of digging in his heels is pity. And being asked to show some kindness to himself and to the body he's run ragged and carved his unrest and hurt into, to treat it just a little less like a tool, a means to an end, the way Dracula had. It's just the sort of thing Julia would have said, if she saw him now.
He's glad she can't. Or that if she already has, in one of her restless visions, that he has no way of knowing it.
He swipes at his face, angrily, his eyes filling, burning.
All he wants is to feel like himself again. Proud and vicious and unstoppable. He wants to smirk crookedly at this talk of massages and indulgent baths and answer with a snide proposal of his own, inviting Hector to wipe his ass for him if he was that eager to be of service. The laughter that used to come so easily to him doesn't this time, not today.
Something else snags low in his throat, a soft, choked noise, and he has to look away, hands fisted.]
[Isaac makes a noise, and Hector has to willfully refrain from leaning forward to reach out to him. 'You had to learn this lesson, too,' he reminds himself. Years of conditioning are not undone in a single day. Rosaly had been patient with Hector when he'd struggled with his fierce independence.
He pushes himself up and stands.]
Think on it. The food is in the kitchens. Anything else...you know where to find me.
[He can't force his help onto Isaac, so the kindest thing he can do is give Isaac space to reevaluate. Later, slowly, Hector can put out more offers, to have his fairy sooth the knots in Isaac's back, or to draw a hot bath, or to share a new cask of wine. To press too hard will only spook Isaac.
So he turns toward the door to make his way back into the castle.]
[Chains rattle and metal clink together, all his scuffed up armour pieces and plates sliding off him to form a pile by his feet. Isaac reaches for the back of his neck to unclasp his collar last, movements calm and purposeful, unhurried.
He had never actually said yes to the offer turning over and over in his mind. Not once in the weeks it has taken for him to make peace with his stalling plans to take to the freedom of the skies and embrace a more nomadic life. But leading Hector up into his study for the first time and letting him draw a bath, involving him in a ritualistic strip down with a long, pointed look through his lashes, is as close as Isaac comes to it. It's no coincidence that he has finally scrapped the wooden basin he's done his washing in and forged a wood-fired tub from metals and rough-hewn stone; something more comfortable, more proper for his height. Beside it lies a pail and washcloth, and some soap.]
Is this indeed a bath or your attempt at making a broth of my bones?
[He asks, pausing in the middle of tugging at his boot to consider the sprinkling of crushed herbs in the bathwater with a wry, barely-there twist of his mouth. Lavender, especially, has become a familiar scent in his ongoing struggle to sleep through his nights, perfuming a space often smelling of sweat and sex and wood smoke.]
If I were cooking you, I wouldn't use sweet scents. It would be garlic and salt to get some flavor into you.
[Hector doesn't look up at Isaac while he strips. His sleeves are rolled up the elbows and he is currently giving the steaming water a swirl with his hand. The temperature is just how Hector likes it. Isaac has remarked on a similar dislike of the cold that Hector has, so he is hoping 'just short of scalding' is the way to go.]
'Tis nothing sinister. Lavender, chamomile, and rose for relaxation of the body and mind. Soak in the water, breath in the air, and supposedly you'll sleep easier tonight.
[It's the kind of home remedy used in villages, insomuch as the villagers bathe. It could be a placebo effect of belief and the simple act of taking time dedicated to relaxing, but Hector has known this mixture to help ease some pains and stress in those who have tried it.]
[He chuffs a mirthless laugh, jerking his leather pants down the sharp cut of his hipbones, his thighs. His gauntlets slap the floor, the last of his clothes.
Crimson watches them from Isaac's chair, lazily lashing its tail.
He's not unaware that it's the first time he has offered his whole body - still long-limbed and sinewy, winding patterns laid over most of the places where he has scarred - and its finer details for Hector's consideration. He's not uncomfortable with the exposure but he doesn't send his devil away, either, when he pads towards Hector and stands beside him, coolly expectant, crossing his arms.
It occurs to him that Hector's at a height where he could easily grab a fistful of his hair and jam his face into his crotch. The thought flickers through his mind, there and gone.]
All that pretty ink would likely spoil the taste anyways.
[Hector finally turns his head when Isaac comes to stand beside him, and he does look. He's not doing this for sex, but that doesn't mean he has to pretend to be blind. Isaac's body holds a harsh and savage beauty, and Hector catalogues it in his brain.]
It's no magic cure. But even if it does nothing else but scent the air, it won't hurt anything.
[He spreads an open palm toward the tub, an invitation for Isaac to step into the steaming water.]
[Isaac scoffs, having nothing to say to that. Pretty - he's heard that before. Pretty ink, pretty mouth, pretty hole. Not a word he'd have ever chosen for himself. It's too delicate, too often sharpened with a mocking edge.
He steps over the rim and smoothly dips a foot into the bath, never needing to ease himself in. Near-scalding is a comfortable temperature for him; it's holy water that burns.]
Remind me... [He begins, sliding the rest of himself into this tea-like brew and leaning back with a weary sigh, water lapping his collarbones] ...what is it you enjoy in tending to my whims?
[Lazily slinging an arm over the tub, he slants Hector a look as if this exchange is and has always been their normal.]
I had thought you above acts of servitude when you fled the castle.
[The sight of Isaac draped, loose and lazy, in the tub brings a smile to the corners of his lips. Isaac is so rarely relaxed, and Hector did this.]
In Dracula's castle, servitude was compulsory. This, I choose.
[He dips the cloth into the water and wrings it out. Scrubbing it against the bar of soap, Hector works up a mint-scented lather.]
For you, if I am not misjudging, being a man means taking care of yourself. You pride yourself in your independence. I use a different metric. I've chosen you as an ally, so it is a point of pride that you benefit from my presence.
[Short-lived thought it was, Isaac had been a lover of Hector's, and he wants to attend Isaac's needs. Hector is certain voicing that thought would bring this truce to an end. Alliances and value, perhaps Isaac can understand and accept.
He moves to the end of the tub so he can start washing at Isaac's feet.]
[From the way Hector frames his answer, Isaac finds himself understanding it better than he wants to. A desire to be useful to someone had fed into his fierce loyalty to Dracula; if he couldn't find any love in the world for him, he had told himself, then he'd settle for being needed, grasping desperately for and surviving on pity-scraps of acknowledgement. There's nothing to show for the years wasted on a soulless vampire, years of self-sacrifice and stringing himself along with hopeful delusions, but bitterness, and bruises to his ego that still ache as freshly as they day they were laid.
It's almost too raw still, even now.
He lets Hector's answer sit with him a while, scraping his nails lightly over stone.]
...And this you would do for the Belmont? [He drawls, skeptical, planting a foot up on the rim. Steam rolls off his unflushed skin.]
Ha. [He laughs dryly. Playing along, if barely. Hector's touch is purposeful, sexless, and Isaac, in turn, isn't basking in pleasure like a spoiled prince. He's calm - as calm as can be expected of him - but attentive, heavy-lidded eyes still watching through the steam.]
...you could try, although I don't imagine his woman would suffer your presence for very long.
[He slips his foot back in. Soap foam sizzles, dissolves.]
And what matter of alliance would this be? [He asks, tonelessly, as if he's only making conversation, and nothing said between them is of any real interest.] One of convenience?
[Hector shrugs, and retrieves Isaac's other foot from the tub to give it the same treatment as its twin.]
I suppose you could say that. He and I had similar goals, and we resolved not to hinder one another. That is all.
[He can't imagine having a conversation with the Belmont outside of that context, much less initiating physical contact like this.]
That alliance has concluded, in any case. He's gone back to 'his woman', and so long as Dracula's power stays dormant, I expect we shall never cross paths again.
[Truthfully, Isaac had been asking of them and not of Hector and the Belmont, but he's not uninterested in the glimpse he's offered of the nature of their relationship. It's all business. Which while being more or less what was expected, is also reassuring, more than it should be. After all, this is a Belmont who struck a truce, maybe even formed a camaraderie, with a half-breed, the Dark Lord's son of all things; willing to shake hands - so to speak - where others would've easily lumped him with the other castle-dwelling creatures. Desperation, he thinks, can make for strange alliances and stranger bedfellows.
Oh, Trevor, Trevor, Trevor.
Isaac can admit to liking him a little, in his own way. The man had put up a decent fight, at least, when he was paying attention. And lord knows he'd have fucked the Belmont if time had permitted; the desire had been there, peaking, while he choked on air and blood-spattered half-threats, writhing on his knife. It'd have been like breaking a wild colt, Isaac thinks. Needing a little time, a firm, steady hand, persistence. But it'd have been inevitable. The human spirit is only so strong.
Dracula's spirit, on the other hand -- ]
It won't. [He sits himself straighter, muscles rippling up through his arms and in his back as he sits himself up straighter, water churning around him.] Not forever. Should he but stir, however, I would think you and I among the first to know it.
[It seems unlikely that a vengeful spirit reaching for potential vessels could go unfelt.]
[Hector isn't sure Isaac is ready to hear Hector's thoughts on their alliance. It's likely to spook him, and spoil the relative ease of this moment.
He releases Isaac's foot when he starts to shift, and dips the cloth back into the water to rinse and re-lather while he waits for Isaac to either settle or bristle against his help and demand to finish the job himself.]
Yes, we shouldn't be caught unawares...but I think we have time. Immortals have nothing if not time, and after his last attempt failed, he won't act in haste.
[He does go still, his brow knitting while he strums his roughened knuckles with his fingertips, a cold, distant look settling into his eyes.]
His magic courses through our veins yet; I have found myself wondering if we too shall be longer-lived than most. [Wryly:] ...Assuming we aren't put out of our misery first, one way or another.
[A forgemaster outlasting the violence in Wallachia to die when he is old and grey and limp-dicked strikes him as about as likely to happen as the Belmont turning whip and will against God. A sword through the heart could also be considered death by natural causes, he thinks. Not only more realistic, but a preferable exit.
He glances at Hector after a while, motioning him over with a lazy curl of his fingers. Might as well put him to work.]
Edited (oh my GOD brain, quit it with the typos and shit) 2019-10-13 21:10 (UTC)
[Hector scoots closer to the tub and begins to wash Isaac's calf. Maybe it's not what Isaac meant with his crooked finger, but Hector is moving at his own speed for now. He digs his fingertips into the muscles, willing the stiffness to ease.]
There's no way to know for now. But we've seemed to age normally thus far.
[Hector has no desire to live past a single mortal lifespan. He never sought vampirism to that point.]
Death will find us in its own time. There's no need for us to do anything to seek it out.
['That remains for every man to decide,' he nearly says. But tonight, it's easier to say nothing at all. His bad days are never too far away, and when they're there and lying heavy on top of him, smothering him, there's reason enough to save what little hope he has left for death. But for now, since turning his efforts back to forging, he still surges with motivation, just enough to thrash and keep his head above the water. His hands would've turned against himself long ago, he thinks, if they had no power to create.
It's a fairly smooth part of his leg that Hector has gotten to scrubbing now. Isaac lets him, wordlessly. It's neither keenly pleasurable or unpleasant, though the motions he's making are calming in their sureness, their steadiness. But at the press of fingers into skin he slides free of that grip, easy, sinking back into the bath.]
No. [He says, coolly.
Massage is beyond what he's agreed to. At least, for now.]
[Hector sighs, but he rinses, lathers up the cloth, and begins a gentle scrub of the other calf, not pushing for more.]
My father sought eternal life, you know. I can think of no greater form of torture, but he honestly thought he wanted it.
[That and gold, the oldest and most cliche desires of an alchemist. How someone with so little creativity thought he would be the one to crack the code, Hector will never understand.]
Do you think our craft will die out with us? I have fathered no children; my bloodline ends with me.
no real kids for them is probably for the best, lol
[Every man desperate enough for something rarely thinks of its cost. But he doubts he'd have turned back if he knew from the start what it meant to be a devil forgemaster. He was still a boy when he had decided the end goal would justify all the suffering and frustration and sleepless nights reading by candlelight.
He sighs through his nose, lolling his head back.
No child left alive in that place remained a child for very long, though, he muses.]
Perhaps there will be others clever enough to master this art in time, even if it takes centuries for them to emerge. Curiosity and a hunger for power is without limit among men, and the dark lord will be wanting of new flesh to groom to his purposes.
[He pauses, thinking.]
...I am rather amazed you never had a part in siring a cambion or two, not even in your sleep. [Said to the ceiling with a touch of grim amusement.] More than a few succubi spoke highly of your vigor. [A beat.] Which was rather suspect, as you had struck me at the time as being a man with all the passion of a plank of wood.
I came to the castle as a child, and I knew of their dangers well before I attracted any attention from them. In that interim between when they took notice and when I could repel them, I was careful not to let them collect my seed. That meant satisfying them in other ways.
[Hector has...if not fond, then certainly intense...memories of rutting between thighs or breasts, and so much time kneeling with his head buried between a writhing succubus’s legs.
He thinks it was a mixture of fearing retaliation from Dracula if they truly impaired his favored young student and the pure novelty of his solution that has led the demons to humor him and not force-feed from him.
Hector’s rather amused to hear that they’d spoken so highly of him, even if Isaac does offer that fact in mockery. He snorts, and follows the line of Isaac’s leg so he can scrub above his knees.]
Did you solicit that particular piece of gossip, or did they offer it freely?
[It comes as something of a surprise that Hector hadn't wandered in blind like he had. Isaac gives him a look of mock-astonishment, eyebrows going up.]
Clever boy. [He purrs, mimicking their lilting tones with a twitch of amusement on his lips.] ...I had no need to press them, for they were quite fond of wagging their tongues when they weren't putting them to good use.
[Always keen on getting a rise out of him, in all senses. He idly plucks a chamomile bud from his chest, rolling it between the pads of his fingers.]
All their tales of you and your ten inch horse-cock could only ever lead to disappointment.
[Carelessly flicking the bud back into the water:]
There was more to my interest than what lay between your legs.
[He leaves it at that, closing his eyes a moment and fighting the pull of a dark curiosity that dares him to ask what Hector may have heard about him from others' lips. Not all rumours that swirled around the castle and came back to him fell into the realm of amusing nonsense, and in a black fury, his hands had found their way around the throats of a few of those giggling succubi, their laughter ringing in his ears long after he had squeezed and bruised his fingers into their skin, silencing them.]
Oh, an army of little hellions, surely. [Wearing red jasper, he learned, eventually, kept them from draining his strength, which allowed him to fuck with abandon. And he did, for years, seeking them at times as often as they sought him, shoving them down and pumping into them with all his savage frustration.] Although it hardly matters, now least of all.
[He notices Hector's hesitation before long and cants his head at him, unamused.]
No, you were more interested in my power, weren't you?
[Goaded on, he pushes forward with a soft snort, plunging his arms further into the fragrant waters to trace Isaac's thighs with the cleaning cloth. He slides along the outside of one leg, then shifts to the softer inner thigh.]
Does it bother you, that there could be living beings still with your blood in their veins?
[Hector wonders if he could kill a demon, if it were possible it was his offspring. The demon's origin shouldn't matter, but Hectors thinks it would, for him. It is a weakness, but one that keeps him human in spite of his dark powers.]
[The first question is left hanging, although his silence is telling. Yes - of course Hector's raw talent had captured his attention like it had the dark lord's, though not in a way entirely the same. Power aside, the sheer novelty of seeing another human in the castle, someone who had looked to be close to his age, had made his pulse quicken with an anxious excitement and a yearning he hadn't felt in a long time.]
They would mean to nothing to me, begotten by a demon-whore.
[The cloth passes along his inner leg and he stirs, fingers tightening around the tub's rim.]
[Maybe it is that easy for Isaac. Hector has no attachment to the family that spawned him, but he isn't sure the apathy would go the same way.
He moves to the other leg, up and down the thigh, slow and gentle. Hector's not trying to seduce. This, the closeness and conversation, coexisting in the same space, is the goal.]
There have been some succubae sniffing around the castle. I assume you're aware.
[Hector could put up wards, but this is Isaac's abode, and must be consulted.]
[Isaac snorts softly, a mirthless sound, supposing this is Hector's oh-so-aloof manner of pointing out that he's noticed the company Isaac has kept in the last few months.]
You assume correctly.
[With a cocked brow, he presses Hector on, half-expecting all the while for his touch to lose focus, daring to wander where it hasn't the right to be. But it doesn't - and for the moment, their truce holds.]
[Hector lets out a breath, but doesn't press the issue. If Isaac wanted them gone from his keep, they would be gone. He'll ward his own room and leave Isaac to his 'demon-whores'.
He reaches as far up Isaac's legs as he can go without groping more tender areas. He draws the cloth out of the water and reaches for Isaac's left hand.]
[His jaw stiffens, weeks of hard-won progress on the verge of coming undone in an instant.]
Then leave.
[The cloth sweeps over the beginnings of a crisscrossing of scars that extend to his inner elbow, the tendons in his arm flexing and unflexing and his hand one word away from snapping out to grab a fistful of Hector's tunic.]
You would do well to remember that my business is my own, as is this castle in which you sleep. [Crisply.] My purpose here is not to make life more comfortable and convenient for you.
[Hector asks quietly, not yet withdrawing from the side of the tub. He washes up the forearm, over scars and inked designs. If Isaac sends him away, he'll have to see to the rest of the scrubbing himself.]
This hasn't been so bad, has it? [A real conversation after months of isolation, warmth and sweet scents, and the temporary suspension of the rivalry between them. Hector doesn't wish to lose that.]
[He looks away to stare sullenly into the bath, at the pale islands of his knees, offering neither a yes or a no to Hector who isn't challenging him, who isn't pushing like he has before. It's this soft-spoken Hector he thinks he trusts the least.
In all the ways he has changed and magic has changed him, he's still human in ways he can't shake. He still yearns for a meaningful place in the world, for a sense of belonging somewhere, even if somewhere only means being welcomed between someone's legs, wanted for just a moment. He still yearns for company: wanting to sweep his hands over skin and raise goosebumps on command and feel his own tingle, alive; wants to pull moans from willing and unwilling throats, wants to bury himself into someone and leave a part of himself inside. The reason demons were here in his tower, where Hector stands now, is because Hector wasn't.
But this he doesn't try to explain. He doesn't know where he'd start if he meant to and doesn't like the way thinking of Hector and the last time they lay together still makes something twists in his gut. When he opens his mouth again, it's easier just to slip around the question and counter with one of his own.
Leveling Hector a look through the gauzy steam:]
Is it jealousy that compels you to judge me?
[It's less a question seeking understanding and more of one seeking confirmation.]
[Hector’s jaw clenches, and he focuses his attention on the arm he is washing- rivulets of soapy water snaking over the marked skin.]
Does it matter? I don’t want to kill a child of yours, but neither would I want to allow it to take what it wishes of me.
[The question for a question is a damning answer in itself. The tangled situation demon children present is real enough, though. He doesn’t want to be put in that situation.]
[He scoffs. Of course he's denied the wry satisfaction of an actual admission, of having some vague sense of what it'd have felt like to be the favoured one, competed for. Water sloshes around as he shifts a little, restless to pull his arm free.]
My devils alone are my children.
['Child' feels like the wrong word for the product of a loveless union, a living thing carelessly brought into the world. There is no loyalty among succubi, as far as he's aware, and their business is to feed and to create when they can with as many men they can sleep with, not to rear those cambions. The indifference is mutual.]
And should it ever come to pass that I find a creature claiming to carry my blood, be this real or imagined, I will destroy it myself as I would any other.
[There's no room for negotiation in his voice, his mind already made. All things considered, it may very well be an unintentional act of mercy.]
[Every conversation with Isaac is fraught with pitfalls. Had he admitted jealousy, it would be a coin's flip whether Isaac would sent him away, spitting about Hector's clinginess and sentimentality again.
He slides the cloth past Isaac's elbow and up the tense, wiry muscles of his bicep. It draws him closer, though he keeps his eyes downcast, like a good servant or a man wanting to avoid the vulnerability that would come with eye contact.]
I will leave them to you.
[Hector has no illusions about the goodness or loyalty of demons, but he still doesn't want Isaac's blood on his hands.]
[Isaac doesn't turn his eyes away but wills himself to stare into Hector's face, resisting a twinge of misplaced discomfort.]
Of course I have.
[He says, with a snappish edge. It has often felt like the only way he could bed a human would be by force, and by then they'd have been victims, in no position to offer anything resembling what he would later see while watching Hector and Rosaly, smouldering with envy and wrenching, hopeless want. He's known demons by and large to be selfish and unkind, but he can't say he hadn't learned from the formative sexual experiences many provided. It had meant something, long ago, that someone had wanted to touch him, had wanted to familiarize himself with his body and with the idea of seeking pleasure in others. The focused attention had been more thrilling than threatening, then; it had been a simpler time, before touch became a weapon and one he discovered he could use as well.]
{Hector reaches Isaac's shoulder, knotted with tension. Breaking out of the Isaac's stare, he slides around the the back of the tub, and gives Isaac a gentle push to urge him forward so he can begin on his back. If Hector could have his way, there would be oil to rub across the planes and ridges there, and he would work his fingers in deep until he could force all the knots into relaxation.
But since when has Hector ever gotten his way with Isaac? He has been granted a cloth and warm water, and he will have to make do.
Out of Isaac's direct line of sight, it's a little easier to continue his line of questioning.]
What would you want of them? Someone to be a partner, or someone to submit to your will? Do you know what you want, Isaac?
[It's too bold, but Hector can't figure it out on his own and frustration makes it hard to hold back his tongue.]
[Why couldn't it be both, he wonders. Why couldn't he dominate and thoroughly fuck someone he forged a rare sort of bond with whenever he pleased, someone he could trust in battle, at least, if not with a secret, but didn't have to in bed? The answer is one he already knows, of course. There are no such people. With Hector, it's complicated, it's a mess he doesn't know how to untangle himself from. Hector is too stubborn, too defiant to be pleased with such an arrangement; he asks too much.
It seems too good to be true, anyway, Isaac tells himself. In the end, the more a person knows of him, the deeper they can cut him. And the more he knows of them, the more of his time and his interest that he invests in their lives, the closer he is to a disaster waiting to happen. For every moment he'd enjoy, he'd spend the rest braced in constant anticipation of the other shoe dropping, and senses fate would never keep him waiting too long.]
...Does it matter? [Throwing Hector's words back at him.
He follows him with his eyes until he disappears behind him, lost in his blindspot. Then Isaac listens, waits. And though he's well familiar with the washcloth on his skin, despite never quite relaxing into Hector's touch, there's a twitch at his shoulderblades when Hector makes to guide him, to lean him forward, tension flaring through his spine. His back stays tight as a drawn bow, all of him stilling.]
Edited 2019-10-17 15:19 (UTC)
HE’S NOT SAYING IT SHOULD totally absolutely BE HIM
[It takes Hector's prompting to breathe more deeply - to remember he can - and then for him to realize he's gripping the tub fiercely, knuckles blanching. First comes the stinging slap of self-consciousness, then frustration swelling inside him. He exhales through his nose and closes his eyes a moment, working his jaw.
A bottle of wine in arms' reach sounds like his next mistake. He isn't sure he could limit himself to a few mouthfuls after this long. But it may be all that can smooth his nerves over now - for his own sake. Maybe he'd even find sleep at the bottom of the bottle, if he were lucky, if not a moment's peace while awake. With the day's work catching up to him and the luxurious, toe-curling heat of the bath sucking what's left of his will from his bones, it's not untrue that there'd be nothing he'd accomplish now that he couldn't after a few solid hours of sleep. Without the energy to feed his devils, he'd be as good as useless.
[Hector hums in agreement and drapes the cloth over the side of the tub. He stands, stretches, and pats a hand absently on Isaac's shoulder as he walks past.]
I shall be right back.
[He doesn't run, but he takes his steps in long strides to hasten his trip to the kitchens. He chooses a bottle of red, and unstops it. He doesn't bother with goblets.
He makes his way back to Isaac's rooms and offers him the bottle.]
[Isaac sees him off with a sharp look, thanklessly plucking the bottle from Hector's hands. Tonight, the make or the year don't matter; he uses his thumbnail to lever the cork until it comes free with a wet pop, not giving the wine the chance to breathe before his lips smother the bottle and he tips his head back. It washes over his tongue, tart and crisp, going down like water. A few drops escape him when he pauses to breathe, clouding in the bath. It looks like blood.]
Enjoying yourself, are you?
[Another joyless swig. He licks away a fat, red bead sliding down the neck of the bottle and sets it down at the foot of the tub for the moment, not looking Hector's way.]
[Hector doesn’t reply to Isaac. He circles around the tub and kneels at the back to resume his washing. Isaac’s back and right arm get the same gentle lathering that his left and legs were treated to.
He maneuvers around the tub as he works, and when he reaches Isaac’s wrist, he glances down at the pale expanse of chest.
Isaac could scrub himself there easily enough. Hector has steered clear of the most sensitive areas, but he’s not pulling all his punches. He leans forward and sweeps the cloth over Isaac’s collarbone.]
[In lieu of an answer, he ducks his head and splashes his hair until it lies flat on his skull, long enough now to drape both his eyes. He calmly extends a hand for the soap and works up a lather between his palms, scrubbing at his scalp and behind his ears and the nape of his neck with the pads of his fingers. His movements are vigorous, briskly efficient, and after a rinse and another soaping, he washes out the foam and leans back with the wine in hand. He takes a long, thoughtful swallow and then another, gazing straight ahead, at nothing in particular, lazily swirling the bottle. It'd be a long while before the water cooled off, with the fire in the built-in stove snapping into a few hunks of wood; he stretches out his legs, in no hurry to pick up where Hector left off.]
[Hector draws back when Isaac finishes washing his hair and settles himself to lounge and sip at the wine. He fetches a hand towel and dries his wet forearms as he thinks on his answer.]
You...you understand a portion of myself that no other could. I think there is a possibility we could work together and be better off than either would be on our own. Last time was not a proper test of what could be between us. I did not know what horrors you had witnessed.
[He shrugs a shoulder, trying to be casual in the face of a serious conversation, wary of provoking Isaac’s claws.]
I don’t know if we could ever be considered ‘friends’...but we are likely the closest either of us will come to that. It seems worth taking a chance on.
[Because Hector, at least, had been content with solitude when he had known no other option; now that he has felt what it is to be close to another person, he cannot go back to the aloofness of his youth.]
'tis a sad state of affairs if you must look to me for some manner of deeper fulfillment.
[With every clash of perspectives and opinions, Isaac knows less and less of what understanding they do share beyond the burdens and possibilities of this cursed magic others have dreamt of wielding. And he doubts that what they have is truly enough to satisfy a man who once took another's hand in marriage. Hector had had a place in the world and in someone's heart, once; he could do better than this, holing up in a ruined castle watching life pass him by. But Hector made this choice of his own will, fought him on it. And he'd have to make his peace with it, fully, if he hadn't already.]
[Hector stands, leaving the hand towel folded on the floor beside the tub. Hector has known true love, and does not expect to find that a second time. What he seeks with Isaac is something else. Understanding of the parts of himself he concealed from his wife. Companionship, whether it be physical or not. This evening, though, Isaac agreed to the bath, nothing more.]
Lounge as long as you wish. We will see in the morrow if relaxing has done you any good.
[He crosses the room, but pauses at the door on his way out.]
If you decide you are in the market for fulfillment, you know the way to my chambers.
[Swilling another mouthful, he watches him from the corner of his eye, his gaze sharpened, for a brief moment, by more than wariness.]
Is that so?
[He pauses with the rim at rest against his lower lip, holding his gaze long enough to suggest it may be a legitimate question.] ...Have you considered taking a more human lover?
[Snorting:] God, Hector...
[Nearing the bottom of the bottle, his laughter comes more easily already, trickling out of him. A little more of the wine misses his mouth, a bead sliding down his skin, another unfurling between his legs in the bathwater.]
The thought has occurred to me...but after a man has possessed a rare treasure, a counterfeit of it brings no joy. I cannot rebuilt what I have lost, so I must seek something new.
[He looks over Isaac's form, naked and sprawled, skin pink from the heat of the water, looking as languid as Hector's ever seen him, laughing.]
And from where I stand, it doesn't look so poor a choice.
[He bows his head in mimicry of a servant to his lord, the role he's played this night, and turns back toward the hallway to leave.]
hope this timeskippery is okay -- let me know if you wanted anything changed
[Isaac's hair is still drying when he comes for him, lead by the pulsing thread of magic tethering them to each other through walls and floors and wards. Down, down from the tower and along a stretch of hallway, unhurried but not without purpose. What's left of his bottle swings in one hand and the other he holds out in front of him, a small flame shedding its soft, flickery light over the walls and the spiders furring their corners, guiding him. The clacking of his heels stops outside the room Hector has claimed for his own, only a moment. He tests the knob and the door opens, a wry smile crooking his lips when the energies of Hector's protective spell sweeps over every inch of bared skin as he passes.
It's quiet inside. He can hear the soft rush of air in and out his lungs, his heartbeat in his ears. The room smells of must and fur and Hector's sleep-warmed, earthy musk - not unpleasant. He leans heavily against the doorframe, helping himself to a sip as he looks to the darkened shape of Hector's body in his bed and wonders how long it'd take Hector to notice him, or if he was even asleep at all. Curiosity wins out before long; he snaps his fist shut and kills the flame, making his approach with a smooth rolling of his hips.]
[Hector lies in his bed, drowsing. He'd returned from Isaac's quarters and given himself a much less luxurious scrubbing down with cold water from a wash basin before laying himself down. He has already resolved that when he rises tomorrow, he will begin collecting materials to build himself a tub as fine as Isaac's.
His instincts are honed to sense threats; foreign magical signatures, hostile intent. Isaac's aura is known and accepted, and his approach doesn't send Hector shooting up from his furs. He's vaguely aware of the noise and the glow in the hallway, and he shifts lazily from his side to his back to peer up into the darkness.
His eyes catch the silhouette of his rival standing above him, and he hums, pleased.]
Come, sit.... [He murmurs, drawing back the furs to make a place for him.]
[Isaac doesn't, not for a while, his expression calmly inscrutable when reaching to touch him. He's come without his gauntlets for once, the pad of his finger warmed over Hector's skin as he traces the sharp neckline of his tunic with a nail, thoughtful.]
It seems I kept you waiting.
[He husks, not looking up. With a grim uptick to his smile, he lifts his hand away and settles for sitting sideways, only half of him on the bed, one foot still in contact with the floor as if in readiness to leave at any moment.]
I imagine you feel them circling the tower like gnats as well...? [The succubi, he means. He could have let one in and still isn't sure why he hadn't and what brought him here instead, courting what seems like their next regret. The wine's not all to blame, but neither could deny that it has played enough of a part. He sniffs and holds it out to Hector if he'll have any - what little is left sloshing around, at least.]
[It is too dark to see well, but Hector can feel where Isaac settles, can smell the lingering scents of teas and soap. He reaches out and trails fingertips up his arm, an idle caress.]
I didn't know if you'd come.
[He takes the bottle Isaac offers and lifts it to his lips. Isaac hasn't left him much more than a mouthful, enough to whet his appetite but not satisfy. He hopes it isn't an omen of what's to come...or not come.]
Yes, they're an annoyance, but I've barred their entry.
[Isaac has Hector all to himself, whether he wants it or not.]
[He looks to the wall, listening to the rush of wine to Hector's mouth, the pop of his lips peeling off the bottle. Hector should be asleep - they both should be. But here they are, together again. Never by accident.
He idly traces the seal of Solomon into his thigh, sighing.]
I was half-hoping I might bear witness to a vicious, bloody battle upon this night -- you and them locked in a bitter struggle over damaged goods.
[He chuckles into the dark, his shoulders shaking. Hector stepping out, steel in his hand and in his jaw, and returning drenched in succubus blood would've been a lovely surprise.]
Ah... [He smiles vaguely at his lap] ...how disappointing.
[Hector rolls to his side, this time facing Isaac. He props his head up on his hand.]
You said before you would have killed anyone who touched me. Now you wish to be a spectator. Which is the truth?
[Hector is more than the equal of any succubus, so he'd not lose unless he was completely caught off guard, or if they came in numbers enough to overwhelm him. But Isaac has presented him an opening to probe, so probe he does.]
If you want to see me fight, I am happy to indulge...in the morning.
[Despite the sing-song, mocking lilt to it, there's an honest weariness in his tone.]
'twas not you I meant. ...Although you too are as much a broken man as I. [Or he'd like to believe so, anyway, to lessen the hot sting of shame forever burning a hole in his chest. He sticks a hand out for the wine, flapping his fingers impatiently, only to remember that Hector has no doubt polished it off.]
Is that what you want- for me to fight the demons for rights to you? I thought you'd consider it trespassing for me to interfere with their coming to your keep. I'll allow them no longer.
[Isaac is welcome to the empty bottle, and whatever last lingering droplets might be coaxed from it. Hector hands it over and pushes himself up.]
Do you need more? [Leaving the warm nest of his blankets to trek down the chill stone hallways isn't ideal, but he'll do it to keep Isaac content.]
What man would refuse such a lively demonstration of fierce want?
[He isn't sure he means what he says, but he's past the point of caring, the wine having worn down the jagged edges of sobriety. The chattering of his demons have quieted down and everything feels fuzzy and faraway, a little easier to live with.]
Yes, be a dear and fetch another bottle, would you? 'twould be a shame to have it gather dust.
[He'll help himself to Hector's bed in the meantime, crawling into it and lying over the place on the mattress his body has warmed.]
I will hold you to that. [Hector declares into the night air. He slides out of bed, and sees Isaac's shadowy form usurp his spot in the furs. He should be angry about it, but even as he shivers, it feels like a victory. Isaac is in his bed, warm and at ease, and it is Hector's doing.
He holds in a hiss as bare feet touch stone floor. He cheats a little at the task, and calls upon one of his fairies to race ahead and bring a new bottle. He meets the creature halfway, its speed greatly hindered when burdened with the wine.
Even with the journey halved, his toes feel like ice blocks by the time he returns to his bed, bottle in hand.]
You would have made quite the spoiled lordling in another life. [He says, but fondly, as he nudges Isaac to make room for him.]
Lordling? [Isaac scoffs, though he isn't affronted enough to deny Hector the room to settle beside him. He shifts, grudgingly.] I would be lord at the least... and order my enemies to be hanged by their entrails from the trees surrounding my castle, as an example to the others.
[He lets the image wash over him, rolling onto his back after a moment and filling his lungs with a long, sleepy breath and feeling joints pop up alone his backbone.]
For that cheek of yours, you would be first man I would have bent and flogged. By my own hand, of course... [Wetting his lips, he turns his head from the ceiling and looks hazily into Hector's face.] ...for I would not leave to my subjects a task so deeply personal.
[Hector slips beneath the blankets and sets the bottle on Isaac's chest. Isaac bade him fetch the wine. He'll sulk if he doesn't at least sip at it.]
What tool would you use to flog someone for so 'deeply personal' an offense? [The question comes breathy to his lips, as if he were speaking of a flirtation, not bodily harm. With them, maybe it is one and the same.
He starts to picture it, Isaac in fine garb, and Hector stripped to the waist, bound to a flogging post. His pulse flutters, and he doesn't turn to try to meet Isaac's gaze in the darkness.]
Would that be another of your examples for all to see, or would I merit a private audience?
[The breathless edge to Hector's voice captures his attention, unexpected, putting a hint of a smirk on his lips.]
You and I alone.
[He purrs. In reaching for the bottle, he clumsily bumps it with his knuckles and knocks it off his chest. It lies at his side, cool glass pressed to his ribs, while his fingers smooth down his belly and over his bulge.]
You shall be stripped and bound to a beam first... [he palms himself, kneading] ...I should like you to be properly introduced to the bite of the whip.
[The castle dungeon had had all manners of tools to rival those the Church reserved for heretics and blasphemers - and among them, whips with tails and some without, others woven with shards of metal and bone and meant for tearing ragged flaps of skin and meat away on every stroke. There's as much beauty, at times, in simplicity as with brutal efficiency; he'd wanted to savour the experience laying every stroke with precision and care, inflicting as much pain as possible without ending the punishment prematurely. Of course, the presence of a fairy would help.]
A simple leather one would do. And when you could no longer bear to stand, you would be bound to a sawhorse, naked as the day of your birth.
[The scene unfurls in the darkness behind his eyes, fresh and bright: laying kisses over Hector's raw, wealed back, staining what little skin left untouched behind his hungry lips; wandering behind him, where the sawhorse forced Hector's taut, quivering legs apart, and sliding an oil-slicked candle up the split of his cheeks before easing it inside him. Lighting it and letting it burn slow, wax puddling over the floor.
Half the pleasure would be in the build of anticipation for the both of them: pacing, humming to himself while lazily swishing the whip around. Feinting, twice in a row, just to watch Hector's body tense and wobble anxiously before the next snap lifted him onto the tips of his toes, sizzling stripes overlapping.
Blood pounds in Isaac's cock.]
...You might even come to enjoy it.
[It hangs in the air like a promise, a smile in his voice. He shifts onto his side after a minute, contemplating Hector through half-lidded eyes - the sort of long, unblinking look that can lay a man bare. Then he closes the distance with a lazy stretch of his arm, nails hooking into Hector's trousers. That he might've drank too much to be effective is a real possibility, but there's enough to be done with fingers alone, if that's the case. Hungry flesh wouldn't say no to the attention.]
[Hector shudders. The picture Isaac paints is simple and visceral. Hector's gut churns with dread anticipation.
This close, he hears and feels Isaac shifting to touch himself. Hector's breath hitches, and his cock stirs. Having spent years in a vampire's court, he is no stranger to pain, but what Isaac speaks of, torture edged with teasing, pain delivered with the promise of forced pleasure...Hector has no defense against that.
...he doesn't know that he wants to defend himself against it.
Isaac reaches for him, and Hector rolls to face him, drawing closer when he should pull away. They face each other under the merciful veil of darkness.]
...you are the lord of this castle. Whatever punishment I merit, you alone can deliver.
[He is well aware he is offering himself up like a lamb for slaughter.]
[Their eyes lock and Isaac feels a snap of adrenaline that ends in a trill low in his gut. Hector knows better than to turn to him, and he knows better than to answer to the fierce tug of lust, but they're nearly chest to chest and thigh to thigh, with a full bottle of wine between them, and neither are backing down. There is rope up in the tower, but he'd rather take his time crafting a sleek whip meant for Hector alone, wanting to relish every moment he held it firm in his hands.]
Then, as lord... I demand that you yield.
[He lifts his hand away to frame Hector's face, sweeping his thumb down his lower lip, tenderly.]
...Show me, Hector, just how badly you have ached for me.
[He smiles vaguely, mock-pitying, at the soft slick of Hector's lips and tongue as they welcome him, his gaze dropping between them where Hector is less seen and more felt, grinding into him, flush against his thigh.]
You poor thing...
[Snorting softly, his hand drifts to press into Hector's shoulder, not with the force to roll him onto his back but with just enough to convey the intention. He pushes up to sit cross-legged, after, dizzied with the sudden shift in gravity. His head is still swimmy and throbbing a full-skulled throbbing when he takes Hector by the legs and hauls him over his lap with effortless, careless strength, thighs loosely framing Isaac's hips.]
Soon will come the day when you know the kiss of the lash... [it's barely above a whisper, a promise edged with a playful threat] ...but for now, we shall simply have to make do.
[Both his hands thrust up into Hector's tunic, fingers fanning on the way down, his nails raking the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his stomach. His touch lightens, slowing, as he reaches Hector's waist, and with a finger alone he skims his shape through his pants, unhurried.]
Let there be light... [He teases, pausing to reach for the bottle and skewering the cork with a nail again, popping it easy. He helps himself to a healthy swig, rolling it around in his mouth before swallowing. This wine is a little sweeter, fuller in taste, sliding cool down his throat. Even easier to drink than the last.]
...'twould be a shame to work by touch alone.
[But even as he says it he tips the bottle just enough to pour a little over Hector's belly, leaning over him to catch it as it drips with a sweep of his tongue, sucking the wine off his skin.]
[Hector allows himself to be positioned according to Isaac's whims. If he fights, Isaac will lose his playfulness; being pliant gives Isaac space to explore him. He ends up where he wants to be anyways, with Isaac between his legs.
The rake of nails down his bare belly has him shuddering. He inhales sharply, and holds in the breath when Isaac pours the wine. He shivers in spite of his resolve to be still. His stomach isn't a particularly efficient cup for Isaac to sip from, but he tries to serve in this role that Isaac has put upon it.]
...you're doing a fine job thus far....
[Light or no, Isaac is sending every nerve in Hector's body firing. His legs spread further apart, and his ankles draw together around Isaac, instinctively trying to encircle him to keep this delicious torture going.]
[Isaac doesn't mind - or rather, he doesn't care, only dimly aware of Hector moving to bracket his body while he skims his nose along that bare stretch of stomach, peppering it with suckling kisses. Drunk as much on wine as on the smell of soap and him battering his senses. He stops to rest his head against him a moment, hot cheek against hotter stomach, feeling the swell of his breath. He curves his hands around his ribs.]
Have your fairy fetch a candle. [He insists in a sleepy drawl, sighing into him.] ...And oil, perhaps, to spoil you with. Yours will not be a body like any other.
[Then, as if a thought occurs to him, he lifts his head to look him straight in the eyes through his messy fringe.] I should like to better see you, and relish every last inch of your flesh.
[Isaac could ask anything of Hector then, with his breath blowing hot against the spit-moistened skin of Hector's belly, and Hector would agree to it. To anything except leaving.
He silently calls out the fairy and sends it rushing to collect oil and candle to offer up to Isaac.]
Mmmmm. A benevolent lord you prove to be....
[The fairy flits back with a candle, which he offers up to Isaac like tribute. Isaac needs no match to light it. The little vial of oil follows. Hector had that near at hand, in case the occasion to use it arose.]
The loyalty of my subjects does not go unrewarded...
[He straightens up, looking to the devil on its arrival and sliding the candle from its grasp. The oil next, set down beside him. After a look around and some consideration, he realizes there isn't a place on the bed to keep the candle without the risk of lighting the bedding, and there's enough sense left in his head to recognize that Hector wouldn't find it as amusing as he would.]
Allow me to put your devil to good use. [He'll hand the candle back to it and tap the wick, a wisp of fire from his fingertip catching. The flame flutters gently, bathing Hector in a dreamy-hazy glow. He breathes softly through parted lips, mesmerized, his eyes tracing every line of his tensing body for a long moment.] Beautiful...
[Then the spell breaks - and the hands that work Hector's pants down his hips and midway down his thighs pin his legs back enough to fold him in half, dragging him closer for them lie back to chest.]
...more than enough to break a priest's will and have him renouncing God for but a taste. [He huffs a laugh, reaching for the wine again.]
[All this time Hector has spent wanting to touch Isaac in gentle caresses, to taste his skin, to drink up the sight of him and be allowed to murmur sweet nothings...all these long months, and all he needed do was submit and let Isaac do all of those things to him. It's a startling realization, and Hector feels entirely unbalanced by it.
The fairy hovers above them, flying in little circles and sending faint flickering candlelight spilling down upon them. Shadows dance across Isaac's face, and Hector looks up at him from where Isaac has positioned him, as a supplicant.]
You need renounce nothing to have me. I am here for the taking.
[Isaac sips at the wine, but Hector writhes against him with a deeper, darker thirst.]
[He hums his pleasure, an eye still on him while he drinks.]
...Indeed.
[There isn't a man alive, he thinks, who could say no to another man laid out like a sumptuous banquet, this exposed and trusting. He doesn't need to spread him to consider what he's working with, but he can't take his hands off him either way, feathering his middle finger along his taint to the soft of his balls and back, feeling a clenching in his guts when he stops to sweep his thumb over the furled skin of his hole. That Hector doesn't seem scandalized in all this is as surprising as the fact that he himself remains soft and that he has made his peace, mostly, with the dampening effect of the alcohol. His hand is that much unsteadier when he dribbles wine onto Hector again, some of it sliding down his spine and his crack. Isaac nips hungrily at an ass cheek and moves to lay broad swaths of spit around and over his hole without thinking twice of it, as if it's what he's always done, tasting the rawness of Hector and wine. He has nothing but time, now, to go with his unusual generosity, fingers wrapping around Hector's cock and tugging to a lazy rhythm.]
[Isaac doesn't spread him open, but Hector parts his legs wider willingly, bearing himself for Isaac's attentions.
A finger is what he expects, what he is dizzily anticipating, but Isaac is loath to be predictable. He comes at him with wine and with his tongue, and Hector screws his eyes shut and buries his face into the bunched-up blankets to muffle his groaning.
Fuck. Fuck. It is even more breathtaking than when Abel did it, because this is Isaac, in a rare mood to reward and to coax pleasure rather than to inflict pain. Hector drinks it in greedily, like a man come across a desert oasis.
He has had barely more than a mouthful of wine, though he feels as drunk as Isaac from pleasure alone. His cock dribbles in the circle of Isaac's fingers, red and straining already. Hector won't last long. He rolls his hips to get more friction out of that unhurried fist.]
He softens his jaw and tongues him as deeply as he is welcomed, steadying Hector as best he can with a firm hand while glossing his skin with hungry, sloppy kisses. For the moment he pauses - and he does pause, letting his jaw rest in a way Abel doesn't need to - he breaks a string of spit with a flick of his tongue and smiles at him, his sly, feral edge breaking through the haze.]
Don't get used to it. [He warns, freeing Hector's dick.
But his touch stays patient and indulgent, eyes half-closed as he looks Hector over and wallows in the sweet suffering that makes him that much more perfect under the velvety wash of candlelight. A flushing, fuckable wreck that has him lamenting the desire he can't fully act on.]
'twould seem... [he swabs precome from the tip of Hector's cock and rubs it over his entrance with a calculated calm meant to be infuriating] ...that even the most stubborn of cunts will open to the blessing of a warm tongue.
[He chuckles at the thought of turning the Belmont's body against himself and horrifying him, while plucking the stopper from the vial. The oil spills out and more than intended, enough that he's able to slick a few fingers on Hector's skin.]
I have never known it, myself. But... there is enjoyment enough in watching you squirm.
[He presses at him with the pad of his forefinger, gauging how much give there is to Hector's body first before he slowly wills himself inside.]
[If Hector knew that Isaac was, in this moment, thinking about the Belmont, he would be furious. But he is blissfully unaware and aware only of bliss.
He shudders, his overheated cock missing the warmth of Isaac's hand when he releases him.]
Do you...want to know it? I would do it...for you....if you permitted.
[He pants, voice hoarse and needy. He has been allowed to do so little for Isaac, though it is hard to complain when that finger presses in, filling him. Hector tries to press backwards, eager for more.]
I'll give you...whatever pleasure you'll accept....
[Isaac blinks at him in the midst of working his finger in and out of grippy muscle, laughing suddenly as if Hector had cracked a joke.] Never in my life have I known a man more keen on kissing my ass. Of course, a man overcome with pain or pleasure will say anything.
[His smile closes, his amusement dimming from his eyes. He focuses tingling energy into his fingertip and fires off a few pulses inside him for good measure.]
I would more enjoy your pretty mouth were it put to work elsewhere.
[The fizzle of energy at Isaac's fingertips runs straight up Hector's spine and sends fireworks shooting into his brain. He moans, fisting the blankets around him to keep from bucking so hard he knocks Isaac off of the bed.]
I'll do it....Anything you want....It pleases me to satisfy my lovers....You can fuck my mouth...sit upon my face...anything....
[He wants to learn the trick Isaac is doing inside of him, so that he can inflict this shuddering, overwhelming stimulation back on him. He wonders if he will remember once he's come- orgasm is approaching so quickly and intensely that he thinks it might render him senseless in its wake.]
Fucking you within an inch of your life-- what else?
[This is cause and effect at its most gratifying, Hector clamping down on his finger with every raw current of magic he jacks into him, those desperate little moans they're dragging from his throat making something in Isaac's chest tighten. There's no harm, as he sees it, in manipulating the sacrilegious magic already surging through his body to further an equally sacrilegious pleasure - what's another sin to the damned?
He channels more of it into his hand, as though moving through the process of calling up a tortured soul for the shaping, daring to advance from experimental little twinges to sending a more powerful jolt through him. Maybe someday, Isaac thinks, he'd find a way to manipulate the unbroken flow of Hector's own magic and have it pump aggressively where he wants it to -- but for now that remains a foggy, wine-dream and they have to make do with what they have.]
I shall hold you to your word. [He says with a crooked, knowing smirk, easing a second slickened finger inside and sawing them both in and out; as for when he'd come and collect, his smile will never say.]
[Hector has no more words, and little enough breath to gasp them out even if he had. He can only cling to the bed and writhe beneath Isaac's fingers. He has never before been so passive during sex, but Isaac leaves him no room to do aught but accept.
The amplification of the tingling magic, the second finger filling and stretching...Hector is shoved forcefully over the edge of his pleasure with a cry. His cock spurts seed onto the bunched-up pelts, his vision goes white. His body shudders, then goes slack. The only sound he can hear is the drumming of his own heart, a heady, rapid beat that soon begins to slow into exhaustion.]
[Isaac breathes a theatrical sigh, sounding both disappointed and entirely unsurprised:]
...Finished already?
[With Hector's release also comes the release of magic he feels needling the bare skin of his arms and chest and neck up to his scalp, the still-damp roots of his hair tingling. He can only wonder how much more restless the creatures outside are now, all but helpless to resist a forgemaster's gravitational pull.
The sadist in him urges him to keep at Hector while he's raw-nerved, driven to discover how many fingers on both his hands he's able to accommodate. But the rest of him is content to leave a few avenues of pleasures unexplored for now. He sets Hector down, contemplating the gentling heaving of his ribs as his pulse settles. Exhaustion flatters him, the fuck-me eyes and softness to his face pulling at something inside him. Snorting, Isaac looks back to his bottle and swings his head back for another gulp.]
[Hector sags into the mattress, boneless and content. Isaac’s taunts can’t pierce his post-coital armor.
He reaches out and brushes his fingers against Isaac’s side, almost in disbelief as he murmurs.]
If I’d known you could do that, I’d have been fucking you the entire time we were generals.
[He wants Isaac to stay, so that Hector can offer himself up for whatever encore there could be in the morrow when the wine no longer dampens Isaac. Asking might drive him away, though. Better to let Isaac claim a place here than to offer it to him.
Hector nestled into the blankets, burrowing to the side so that a length of bed remains for Isaac’s taking.]
[He doesn't pull away or bristle like a wounded animal, scoffing instead, his edginess and all his internal alarms dampened.]
You must forgive me for having my doubts. [He says in a sleepy, slurring tone, both of Hector fucking him and the idea of them fucking each other in the castle.] ...Had you made to lie on top of me then, you would have been most fortunate indeed to leave with all parts of you intact. [With a humourless smile, he knuckles away some wine dripping down his chin, licking it off his finger.]
Well... I don't suppose much has changed.
[The mattress dips and bobs as Hector shifts, but Isaac doesn't turn or lie back in the space he has made, humming to himself while staring blearily through the shadows at the wall in front of him.]
Semantics. [Hector huffs, settling himself more comfortably in the cocoon of blankets.] 'Begged to be fucked by you,' then. To the detriment of my work and studies.
[He's in a fine mood, made bleary by sleepiness. Isaac has a free pass from wrong-doing for at least a few hours in Hector's reckoning. That orgasm had shaken him.]
I think much has changed, for us to be here. Did it work? Are you more relaxed?
[Hector is, though that was not the goal. Isaac isn't lying down, but at least he hasn't risen to leave yet. That must mean something.]
['Hardly', he says, disagreeing with it being a simple matter of semantics. But he doesn't put up a fight, likely too muzzy-headed and spacey for it. He idly rubs his oily fingers together, looking away from them only when Hector begins to ask questions.] Relaxed...?
[He latches onto the word, both puzzled and vaguely amused.] ...for what?
Do you think you'll sleep through the night? [Hector clarifies. He hopes so, not only out of goodwill that Isaac be free of his nightmares for a night; if this works, then theoretically, they could repeat this.]
Hmmm, don't worry about it. Morning will tell.
[That is easier than keeping up the questioning when they are both tired and content. Hector gives the fairy a silent order to snuff the candle, leaving them in darkness. If it makes it harder for Isaac to return to his room, Hector doesn't mind it.]
[Isaac regards him in the half-dark a touch too long for a casual glance, as though waiting for something, the whites of his eyes gleaming dully. He blinks, finally, and slowly turns back.]
We shall see. [He answers, emotionless, skimming his hand over the bottle with a quiet reverence as though its smooth shape is an extension of Hector's body. When the light goes out and the bedroom blackens, he has already made his choice as to whether to stay and obnoxiously monopolize the bed or leave; he eases off the mattress and takes the wine with him, a little unsteady on his feet but as determined to see his way out on his own as he came in, a wisp of firelight leading him to echo chamber his tower has become. It's quieter tonight, for once. And for just long enough for him to sink into his own furred bed, where a mercifully dreamless sleep is waiting.]
[Hector sighs as Isaac's silhouette disappears down the hallway, but it was a long shot anyways. There's only so far can be come in a day. Hector's work may never be over.
He sleeps, curling up away from the wet spot left by his peak, and wakes with the dawn. Hector washes, dresses, and pads quietly down the hallway to the kitchens to make breakfast. He's no chef, but he can manage enough to keep himself fed. Slices of bread and cured meat, a porridge sweetened with a few foraged berries from the forest, a couple of hard-boiled eggs. Hector eats, and as he has done since he came to the castle, he leaves a portion for Isaac, which the other forgemaster may or may not eat. If not for the locks on his tower door, Hector would be tempted to send it up to him via devil.
With that task done, he takes his forging work outside with him once more, though this time he doesn't put himself directly under Isaac's window. He'd never been able to forge in sunlight back in Dracula's day, and he finds he likes it. That his latest projects have been plant-based gives him even more reason to venture outside of the castle walls to find a place to forge.]
[Everyone has heard rumors of the Ghost Ship. The whispers persist, insidious and pervasive, throughout the court of the Pirate King Dracula, in spite of his efforts to silence them.]
Pay it no mind. [He orders Hector, the newest and youngest of his vassal captains. Hector looks up from where he kneels before Dracula's throne, determination lighting up his silver eyes.]
My king, I will see it delivered to you, if it can be taken, or sunk if it cannot. It shall plague you no longer.
Hector.... [Dracula shakes his head and sighs, sounding much wearier than such a great and fierce lord should.
The Ghost Ship has become almost a Holy Grail within the pirate court. The list of crimes attributed to it vary wildly from tale to tale- vassal ships plundered or routed, treasure gone missing from holds, ships sailing into a fog and coming out impossibly far off course. Some of it is the typical tall tales of old sailors, but still, the rumors sow seeds of doubt in Lord Dracula's absolute mastery of these waters. Each captain covets the chance for victory over such a foe.]
I hear it's full of the fiercest warriors ever to sail. I'll find them and use their skins for sails! [Godbrand slurs over his grog. Hector hates him fiercely, and touches nothing whenever he's forced to board Godbrand's ship. Damn Viking and his disgusting habit of making people into boats.]
It holds weapons. Powerful ones. [Carmilla purrs. There's lust in her catlike eyes, but it's a lust for power, not for sex like she'd have everyone believe. If given the opportunity to seize an advantage, Carmilla will take it. If not given the opportunity, Carmilla will insert a stealthy knife into a back to make the opportunity.]
Our lord said to leave it be, Hector. [Says Isaac, ever infuriatingly loyal, and secure in his standing with Dracula. He is the pirate king's right hand, his most trusted officer, and Hector HATES him. For all Hector's talent, he cannot hope to win the standing Isaac has...not unless he can present his lord with a prize greater than any other.]
I will not fail in this. [Hector swears to himself as he sails out from the Pirate Court's base in defiance to his Lord's orders. His crew, all reanimated, do not question him or caution him against such acts of well-intentioned mutiny. His little dog, also undead, similarly accepts his direction without fuss, though with more demands for attention whenever Hector has a hand free from the wheel.
He sails for most of the day, but does not drop anchor when the sun sets and moon rises, bright and full, over the dark water. This is the time, he knows from the stories. Though the tales agree on little else, moonlight is key to unlocking the way.
He uses a compass he built himself, a mixture of modern science and old-world superstition. It would never be accepted in any of the colleges in the cities on land, but Hector is proud of what his tinkering has accomplished. Rather than pointing him due north, the needle spins, then stops, directing him eastward. As he pilots his ship in that direction, a mist forms on the waters around him. Another one of the rare agreed-upon signs. He must be on the right track.
The fog grows too thick to see through, and the light from his lantern illuminates only a sphere of the deck of his ship. Hector relies solely on the compass to set his course. It's slow going, inching through the waters, course correcting as the compass needle spins, then slowly pressing onward. He's almost ready to give up for the night, go curl up in the captain's quarters where Cesar is already snoring, when a dark shape appears in the fog. Finally.
He gives his crew the silent order to cast anchor and lower the jolly boat into the water so Hector and a selection of his crew can row to their prize.]
[The thing that rises out of the fog is a ship that requires a truly dedicated crew to manage. It's a towering ship, three masts with none of their sails out and flapping in the wind. No. It is a ship that sits silent in the waters, the only hint of life being the few emergency lights that glow from the deck. (They are too similar to the lights upon Dracula's flagship, the technology leaps and bounds ahead of those used by mere mortals.)
But as imposing as the thing is, as towering as it projects itself, it is a thing of no life. As Hector's smaller vessel approaches the great, unnamed ship (for it is unnamed, it always has been, even in the stories about it), no shots are fired. No cannonballs try to deter their approach. There is only the lapping of the waves. No gulls shriek overhead.
There is nothing. Hector may as well be approaching a tomb.]
[The Ghost Ship has a pervasively eerie aura surrounding it, but Hector and his crew do not turn back. You don’t become a pirate necromancers by turning and running at the first sign of spooky.
The lights on the ship are a sign that Hector is on the right track here. The same style as his lord’s ship. Perhaps a ship stolen from Dracula’s fleet, now begging to be restored.
It’s not the most strategic move, but Hector is the first to throw a grappling hook up to catch the great ship’s rails, and the first to begin the ascent. He could claim it is because he is a real leader (patently untrue), or that he cares for the (un)lives of his crew (not untrue). Really, though, he is the first on board because he is insatiably curious.
A ship this size necessitates a crew. Where are they? Even at night, there should be a watch. And if it be abandoned, how had it not been found and claimed already?
Giving a quick eye around for traps, Hector beckons for his crew to make their way up the ropes and onto the deck of the seemingly abandoned ship.
One of the reanimated sailors carries a lantern with him as he climbs, and Hector takes it so he can examine the ship more closely. It is old, but not in such a state of disrepair to no longer be seaworthy. Curiouser and curiouser the mystery grows, and Hector grins in spite of himself.]
Come, [He tells his men, even though they need no such encouragement from him.] let us see if anyone’s home.
[The lights on the deck remain steady in the dark, making it easy enough to get a sense of the place. There are others attached to the mast that lead up to the crow's nest, but inspection there will reveal that it too is empty.
Precious little gives away the ship's secrets on deck, save for the space beside the great wheel that overlooks the whole of the deck. Oh, the wheel is as normal as everything else, but beside it? Beside it is a small group of instruments, far more sophisticated than any ship save Dracula's. There's a barometer with a digital read out, same for a thermometer, and a little screen that's labeled surrounding area and is really just a radar system. This ship, whoever the owner is, they know secrets that they probably shouldn't. Hell, that they absolutely shouldn't.
It's a matter that continues the next level below. There? Oh, it is pipes and whirring and hissing, muted by some means but present all the same. There's no way of knowing, but it is a key part of the ship's autopilot capabilities, the reason the ghost ship is a ghost ship. No man steers it - it steers itself, somehow able to avoid storms and ships alike.
There is a door there, the one that leads to the third deck. It is a thing made of steel, and a thing locked.]
[Hector sweeps the deck and below, taking note of the oddities. His crew follow behind, untouched by curiosity. ]
It’s warm. [He remarks, pressing a hand to the pipes. Whatever strange mechanism powers this ship, it is working. Hector’s practically vibrating with excitement.
In a ship left without guards, seemingly without defenses, the locked door may as well be a target. Hector cannot go anywhere but there.]
Break it open. [He orders his men. They are more used to ranking down or prying open doors made of thick wood, but Hector assumes they can make do. No one has appeared yet to stop them, so they have time. Stealth, it seems, is also of no concern. If there is anyone within, drawing them out would only help.
He steps back and lets the burliest members of his crew take his place, raising their battering ram. If that makes no dent, Hector will have them use gun powder, but he’d rather not risk harming the vessel and depleting their supply unless he has to.]
[The door does give in after putting up a fight. It is a hard won thing, requiring a good dozen or so attempts with the ram before anything falls open. And there are...stairs. Only stairs, and it's no surprise that there is a third deck on this vessel. There are, actually, four, but the fourth level is a thing meant for dealing with waste and all those other disgusting things that life at sea must address.
So down and down. These steps are metal, unlike all the wood elsewhere on the ship, and pipes run down beside the steps. Whatever lies at the heart of this ghost ship, everything seems to originate there and...
...and it is an open space, the decor of it a little too close to the golden geometric patterns of Dracula. They're apparent on the floor, along the walls, splayed across the ceiling. It is the center where things become much stranger, for there a coffin remains, tilted upright at a 45 degree angle upon a dias. There's great containers of blood flanking each side of the coffin, and if anything is within, it shows no life.
But the blood is moving it seems, constantly trying to balance between the two containers it's in. Here, the silence of the ghost ship is no boon at all. It's a threat, lingering and heavy.]
[Hector is, of course, the first one down the stairs, lantern in hand. The undead crew that trail behind don’t really need the light, and they lumber behind, slow but steady.]
What is this? [Hector whispers into the oppressive silence to break it. He knows what in the basic sense- great vats of blood- but why?
He presses a hand to one of the glass containers, smudging the dust as he checks the temperature of it.
Finally, he can take it no longer. Worse than any cat, Hector always needs to look inside, no matter what toll his curiosity takes.
Not bothering to wait for his crew to all gather round and ready themselves, Hector approaches the coffin and puts a hand to the lid to check it.]
[The glass containers are warm to the touch, kept at a tempterature that is, perhaps unsurprisingly given the company that Hector keeps these days, about the temperature of an average human. There's no reaction to the touch either - just the mark of Hector's fingers over the fine patina of dust and salt that has settled over the apparatuses.
But oh, what lies within. The coffin is not locked, and once the lid is touched, it moves quietly and without anyone else's help. Automata are not strange among Dracula's things, and so much of this ghost ship appears to use if not outright copy the finest of the vampirate king's ships.
There is a moment of silence as the figure held within the coffin wakes. He can't be much older than Hector - if anything, he's probably younger - all soft golden hair that contrasts with a truly gnarled scar that slices right down his chest. It misses major organs, oh yes, but only barely.
And then those eyes snap open, gold staring up at Hector for just a moment before the figure begins to float upwards.]
[Hector takes a few hasty steps back as the figure in the coffin opens his eyes. The alien grace and striking features can only mean vampire, and he knows how little they like to be waked from their slumber.
The figure rises, the show-off, using the strange powers of their race that Hector has tried and failed to catalog in his notes.
Hector has a scimitar on one hip and his forging hammer on the other, but so far, he's drawn neither. Vampire doesn't necessarily equal 'enemy' in his head, though he's certainly prepared to arm himself if needed. One doesn't survive among the vampire pirate court by being trusting.]
You've gone through quite a lot of trouble to entomb yourself at sea. Were you hoping to avoid attention?
[It seems like perhaps this golden sleeping man was, but he has to know that a giant ghostly ship would pique the curiosity of every sailor on the seas, right?]
[Oh, it's absolutely showing off. But it is also Alucard testing to determine how atrophied his muscles are following his rest, a piece of information desperately needed. They are...manageable, and so he lands on the ground in front of the coffin with the same sort of grace other vampires exude.
He ignores the weapons on Hector, seeing neither as a true threat. The hammer is curious, oh yes, but he'll say nothing. Make Hector reveal himself rather than have an interrogation.]
I was, yes. [And until now, he has managed.] What year is it?
((I’m going with the Golden Age of Piracy, if that’s cool.))
[Hmm, that’s a telling question.]
1650.
[He studies the figure for any clues to his time frame, but with no dated articles of clothing and the typical anachronism of the vampire’s ship, Hector can’t get a read. He’s uncomfortably aware that he’s the only thing in this room with a pulse, and this vampire could be very, very hungry.
[The vampire does nothing more than close his eyes, take a deep breath, and then open his eyes again. Then all he does is walk right back over to the coffin, retrieving the shirt and coat in there.]
I slept the appropriate amount of time, it seems, as my ship's defenses are clearly no longer functioning as they should.
[Hector bristles at the vampire's words. He draws himself up to his full height, which is slightly enhanced by the tricorn hat, but not enough to equal the vampire's.]
What makes you think they're not functioning?
[He is one of Dracula's pirate captains, and he will not be dismissed like some schoolboy wandering into a meeting of his elders. The bastard is turning his back to Hector and causally dressing, as if Hector be no threat at all!]
I came to bring the Ghost Ship back to my lord's fleet.
[A bold declaration, but Hector's temper is rising and his pride outweighs his good sense.]
I heard no commotion from any of the decks that otherwise would have informed me that someone borded the vessel. I usually do not engage with the precious few who board the ship, as those defenses keep them from reaching my place of rest.
[Alucard looks more thoughtful than genuinely concerned by this security blip, but that changes in a hot second. Hector's goal? That's not allowed.
So he turns to Hector with an all too calm face. His correction is simple. Firm. Unyielding.]
No. You will do no such thing.
[Yet no part of Alucard moves to attack. The sword remains sheathed.]
[True, Hector had encountered little resistance upon boarding. The difficult part had been locating the ship in the first place. He can't help but wonder what sort of excitement he missed out on, what secrets of this place have been undone by the passing of time.]
And why not? [He crosses his arms and tilts his chin up in stubbornness.] This ship must have been stolen from Lord Dracula. No one else can make vessels such as these. And it's not like you're even making real use of it. You can go sleep somewhere else if you don't wish to be brought before him.
[Hector's really a pretty terrible pirate. He's not included to pillage or rape, and taking a prisoner is entirely too much work when he could let someone go. If it wasn't for his necromancy, he'd be entirely unsuited for Dracula's pirate ranks.]
This ship was a gift from the same man. [Alucard meets Hector's eyes, knowing that how that statement lands will come to define the rest of this encountered.]
I am making no advanced use of it because I needed the peace and quiet to heal. I can also tell you that should you attempt to take this ship or myself before him, you'll bring more disapproval down upon your head than I believe you anticipate. My father likely has ordered this vessel left be.
[He hears Dracula's voice in his memories, telling him just that. 'Forget the Ghost Ship, Hector. Pay it no mind.'.]
Your father...
[There are rumors of that falling out, whispers that choke into terrified silence at the Lord Dracula's approach, sea shanties of a great battle that the pirates only dare to sing of when they are blind-drunk on rum and feeling defiant. That little family squabble happened well before Hector's time, so much so that Hector wasn't sure if the legendary 'Alucard' actually existed, or if he was just a poetic device invented as a foil for the Demon Lord of the Seas.
Well, here is is, and if he doesn't kill Hector for this, Lord Dracula will.]
Well, fuck me. [He exclaims. He needs to sit down. A plague of scurvy on this damned Vampire Lordling for not having so pedestrian a thing as a chair or a bench on his damned ship. There's a voice in his head, roaring with laughter at his misfortune, and it sounds the way he imagines Isaac would sound, if the suck-up bastard was capable of laughing.]
[Alucard remembers all of that horrid night. Cannons against cannons, undead things against undead things and...retreat. Because Alucard needed to live and fight again. Of the ships he had, only this one survived. The one he once jokingly called the coffin ship due to the fact it held a bed that he never wanted to use, and so it became a supply ship for the other two in his tiny fleet instead.
The entire ship thing in the first place, it was a way to laugh in defiance of the old tales of how vampires could not cross running water. To have a ship's hold was to have a safe guard against sun, so long as a crew of thralls or otherwise extremely willing mortal men and women saw the opportunity as one worth taking. Somehow it all evolved into a new vampire society (his mother had once said vampirate and Dracula looked pained for days). One that let mortals in, just a little, and so had to allow for mortal needs. Then his mother had waltzed into his father's life, and all went well until she was accused of a combination of witchcraft and piracy. A first, of sorts. The scourge of humanity would be removed from the seas first, unable to warn land dwellers of attacks, and then the whole of man wold be removed. In time.]
Leave. You never found this ship.
[He shouldn't let Hector go. But it's a bigger risk to kill him and alert Dracula that his son is awake.]
[It's stupid and stubborn, pretending as if the hardest part of the story to swallow is not the reappearance of the seemingly long-dead son of the immortal pirate vampire lord, but the hair color. Alucard takes after his mother, obviously. Hector's caught glimpses of her portrait in Dracula's cabin before.
Hector paces, turn between the door and the vampire...no, dhampir, he supposes. He should leave. The son had nearly rivaled the father, and Hector knows Dracula's power far outmatches his own.
...but he snuck away, sailing out under cover of darkness, and he can't come back without making some sort of accounting for his disappearance.]
No. I'm not returning empty-handed.
[Dracula has been closer to a patron than a captain to him at times, but whatever reserved affection he has for his human admiral, Hector can't imagine it will extend to forgiving him an act of mutiny.]
[He's almost all of Lisa with none of his father's looks. Alucard has always been aware of it, and he has wondered for some time if it was the reason his father didn't kill him outright. Some kind of sad attempt to keep one shred of Lisa Tepes alive in the world.
Or maybe fear of reprisal from her spirit.
As Hector goes towards the door, Alucard quietly closes up the coffin lid, and then walks to where the machinery and mechanisms of the blood controls are so that he can adjust them. They'll be enough food for now, and then he will have to make port. The ship needs a name. The Demeter perhaps.
But then Hector declares that he won't leave without something, and Alucard stiffens.]
Then attack some nearby vessel and for those aboard it to sink and be set adrift on lifeboats across the sea. There is naught on this ship.
Why should I punish some other ship when my target—
[He cuts himself off. Hector really is a terrible pirate. He has no love for people, but he doesn’t hate them. He can justify striking out at strategic vessels to se Lord Dracula’s campaign furthered, but blindly attacking the first ship he sees? There is no cause for it.
He should know better than to say that, though.]
My lord will have his prize. [He says, voice flat and resolute. As long as he has his compass, built with a spirit of navigation houses within it to guide the needle, he can lead Dracula back to this place.
He stalks to the door. The crewman begin to stir, parting for Hector before falling in behind him. As much as he hates to use them this way, they are a shield between himself and the dhampir as he begins his retreat.]
Your target was this ship, but with what aim? [Alucard's keen eyes peer from around the blood apparatuses.] What would you have done if this ship was truly empty, if it was naught but wood and technology, if I wasn't aboard it?
[Alucard knows his father. Alucard knows the company his father keeps. It was a bad plan.]
I was set here and permitted to remain for a reason. Consider that before you do something foolish.
[Alucard knows that in the next few moments, he will have to react. Defend himself. But before that happens, it feels only proper to give Hector a chance to back down off this ledge. He seems ill suited for the work that's about to come.
[His aim was for Dracula to look upon Hector and know that the faith he'd placed in the necromancer was not wasted. Not that he'd expect the prodigal son to understand that. What would he know of loyalty?
Hector stops and turns to face Alucard.]
Had this ship been empty, I would have sailed it back to my lord's fleet so that he would know once and for all that it would no longer plague his waters. Then his damned admirals would stop their whispering and serve him properly.
[The Ghost Ship is a symbol of chaos, of a force Dracula does not and cannot control. Bringing it to the fleet would reassert Dracula's absolute dominion over the seas. And then his lord will be proud of Hector.]
I think it must have been many years since that decision was made. I'll leave it to my lord as to whether it still stands.
[Alucard steps away from the machinery, and now his face is firm and grim. He doesn't like this. To be awakened and already deal with impossible choices, he...he can't. Not really.]
For if the fight favors me, then I must restrain you and your absence will attract my father's attention. Should it go for you, then I am most certaintly going to my death. I beg that you consider the fact that in all the time since that inital decision was made, this place was left be.
[He cannot imagine a world where Dracula will have joy in seeing his son again.]
No part of me is surprised that he is ruling over a squabbling armada. Vampires have always been like that, and bad at being a cohesive group.
[Uncertainty flickers across Hector's face. Alucard considers a return to his father a death sentence. Even with that in mind, Alucard would restrain Hector, not kill him. It's...not what Hector excepted of the son of Dracula.]
If you won, you could kill me and leave my ship to be found in pieces. There are rogue pirates or hunters' ships who could be blamed for it.
[Hector doesn't like that option, but he needs to know why Alucard isn't considering it. Does he truly just want to be left alone to keep floating around in his empty ship?]
Your father is the only one who can unite them. If they had no leader, they would kill without restraint.
[Hector has no love for any of the other vampires in Dracula's fleet. It is for Dracula alone he stays with them.]
No. [Alucard shakes his head. Finally, his hand has come to grip the hilt of his sword.] They know which ship you went looking for, don't they? They'll assume that I am returned.
[Death is something he wants to avoid if at all possible right now. Hector's made it inevitable, unless he decides to retreat and at least give Alucard a window to at least acquire a small crew.]
So they would kill for themselves, instead of in my mother's name. The only reason they have ever stayed in line is because of my father's power, and as you have made clear, that is already on the decline. Propping him up just....gives them time to pretend to be clever about rebelling.
[UMMMM. Hector is conspicuously silent in the wake of Alucard's question. It probably would have been smart to let someone know where he was going, if he hadn't been expressly forbidden from going after the Ghost Ship.
He also has little to say in the face of Alucard's frank assessment of the political situation. He's had the same thoughts, privately. Dracula has the tiger by the tail, and he can't let go, and is showing himself less and less inclined to keep a firm hold.]
He... [It's hard to lie to the man's son, who knows him better than Hector could ever hope to. He can't pretend that the situation is not as it is.] ...he has the capacity for greatness. I thought, if I could help him remember that, it might reawaken in him. The rest of the vampires are bloodthirsty sociopaths, but Dracula is different.
[The vampire who had found Hector and mentored him was still there, beneath the depression and ennui. Hector just had not found the catalyst yet to restore him. He had hoped that by removing the Ghost Ship and reaffirming Dracula's complete dominion over the seas, his lord would remember the man he'd once been.]
[A single word, and deep, deep sorrow in it. Alucard has no joy in anything he is about to say, and in truth, every word Hector has uttered has done naught but pain him. His father's grief has swallowed him hole, and madness has worn everything else away.]
Going by everything you have said, he is still consumed by grief and is inclined to continue to sink into it, until the quicksand fully engulfs him and he finally ends himself in whatever stupid blaze of glory he thinks will show the world how wrong they were to murder my mother.
[His father may very well be irrecoverable. But Alucard had thought that far too early on in this disaster.]
And your plan is, what, to just secret yourself away until he destroys himself?
[He's angry on his lord's behalf. Angry that his master's own son has given up on him. It's hypocritical. Hector has wondered, during some of the bloodier battles he's fought on Dracula's behalf, whether it wouldn't be better for Hector to set sail for the sunset with his pets, to find a place beyond Dracula's reach to flee to. But he hasn't. He'd held on to hope that reason will triumph over grief.]
There has to be a way to quell his wrath. I thought it might be this ship, but that's obviously wrong. You will do nothing for him.
[Hector's brain can't fathom an immeasurable grief. There must be an end to it, some marker they will reach when they present him the right prize or kill the right enemy, that will finally fill the depths and let him move on. It's only logical. Everything on this world is finite, and so this must be too. All beings have the innate drive for survival hardwired in, and Dracula cannot take his revenge so far as to actually destroy himself...right?]
[He had a vague hope that his father's destruction might've happened when he woke though. Since that hasn't come to pass, the question of what is the plan? now hangs heavy overhead. Alucard has no answer, and oh, oh he hates that so very much.]
My father died along with my mother in all the ways that could ever matter. Have you seen any sliver of the man you met in all the time you have been serving in his war and carrying out his will?
[It's a genuine question. He wants to have an answer of yes. Examples. Anything. Anything that means that his father shouldn't be put out of his misery. His eyes rest on Hector with an intensity that probably is not comforting, but oh, oh he doesn't care.]
[Hector tries to think of a moment he can hold up as evidence for Alucard. He has looked for it desperately each time he boarded Dracula's flagship or met with him at one of his island bases. Hector has the hunger for approval that so many orphans suffer from, and he searched for scraps of approval like a starving man.
None of that curiosity or passion for the supernatural arts, none of the refined grace or the assurance of a better future is there within Dracula anymore. Alucard claimed him a dead man, and Hector can't refute it.]
...
...you think he is truly gone beyond all recall?
[Hector is a necromancer, and he can bring back a semblance of life to the dead. But he can't bring back the vibrancy, the personality, of the human corpses who serve him, not the way he can with a newly dead animal. If Dracula is like that, like one of his undead shell of a crewman...
...then everything Hector has staked his life on is a lie, and he has nothing. He considered escape before, but only in the vaguest sense before putting the thought aside. He doesn't even know if he could leave if he wanted to. Dracula cared for little now but for vengeance, and the defection of a captain would bring down his wrath.
The color is gone from Hector's face, the harsh truths Alucard has forced him to face shaking him to the core.]
No, I need to...
[He makes for the door. He needs to think, to reason with himself without some dhampir whispering in his ear. Who knows what thrall he might be under right now?]
[But oh, Hector's response is telling. Alucard lets out a soft noise that's a muted sigh, aware that his question? That's the answer. His father is far worse off than when Alucard entered his coffin to recover and rest.
The hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword loosens, then falls to Alucard's side. Whatever threat Hector presented physically is gone, dashed against the rocks of horrible thoughts and bitter truths. There is no joy in bringing a person down like this, and from Hector's body language, this must be some time coming.
Hector leaving is good. A relief. But.]
And what shall you say to anyone who asks about your voyage?
[Who was there to trust? Hector isn’t giving to boasting, and he confides to no one human.
The fight is gone out of both of them, so there’s no point in hiding the fact any more.]
When I return, [If I return] I can claim I was seeking out a new specimen. It’s not the first time my work has taken me away suddenly.
[Hector wears the hat and waist sash well, but in all other respects, he’s a terrible pirate. He was considered lost at sea for a week once when he disappeared in a little skiff, chasing after a rare sea bird he’d caught sight of. The other captains had been disgusted, though Dracula had waved it off. At the time, Hector had attributed it to his lord’s tacit approval of his scientific ventures. Now, he sees it was simple indifference.]
[Incredibly stupid, if Alucard's being very honest. But the tension has been diffused, and in the end, isn't that the most important part?]
There are islands east of this area that have unique turtle populations. That should be sufficient.
[How Alucard knows that isn't clear, not if he's been asleep for as long as he has. The dhampir doesn't seem keen to share that, but he is walking towards Hector. Towards and then past, as there is only one set of stairs here.]
If I am found within several days by any of my father's fleet, I will be holding you accountable.
[In the face of Alucard's judgement, Hector grows petulant.]
We are pirates, not school children. I don't make an account of every movement I make. I'd be more likely ambushed by my own allies as helped by them, if they knew my every step.
[Not even the promise of new turtles can distract him, although he does love a good turtle. They are so long lived, little relics of times gone past, with their whole world carried upon their back. Maybe he will sail east...]
I'll not be to blame if they do. If I found you, others could too. It's not as though this ship is inconspicuous, and I wasn't the only one piqued by the rumors.
[Maybe blame yourself for having such an overdramatic ghost ship, Alucard.]
[It just seems like a great way to say, escape, if need be. But Alucard doesn't say any more than that. Hector is an adult who can make his own choices, just as Alucard is free to side eye them with concern.]
Oh? Who else's ears perked?
[Look. Look. Over dramatics is an inherited trait Hector. You've met Dracula. Slowly but surely, Alucard starts his way up the steps.]
[Hector follows with reluctance. A stairwell would be any easy place for a vampire, or even half of one, to swoop down on him and tear out his throat if he chose. Isn't the point that Alucard wants to keep hiding away in this ship? Why does he need to go up?]
What, do you want names? Are you familiar with your father's admirals?
[Hector honestly has no idea what Alucard knows. He was gone before Hector arrived, and nobody is willing to speak plainly about what happened. He hadn't even been certain that Dracula had a son.]
I grew up in my father's shadow, did I not? I know the vampires of the seas and of Europe.
[The vampires of the Americas? Now those are strangers, especially as more seem to enter those ranks every year. Alucard doesn't say that though, and he's careful as he hits the boat's middle deck. Now, now he can truly smell the salty air thanks to grates that also let the moon shine down in. Alucard passes directly underneath one of them, then stands there, soaking in the little light there is.
He is awake. That is worth taking a moment to acknowledge.]
[Hector has no loyalty to the other vampires, so he rattles off their names without qualm.]
....Godbrand would only find you with blind luck, but Carmilla, you should keep an eye out for....
[Hope Alucard woke up from his slumber ready for some vampire court gossip. He pauses when they reach the deck and Alucard hears the yipping of his dog.]
Fuck. If Cesar's awake, he's going to whine endlessly tomorrow.
[He loves the little dog, but it's hard to sail with him underfoot, begging for attention the way he's wont to do when he stays up too late.]
Ignore him. If he catches wind of someone new, you'll rile him up even more.
I'd be surprised about him letting Godbrand into this nonsense, but few men are better agents of chaos than he is.
[Also, Godbrand Love Boats. It was inevitable that he join the madness, even if he wasn't invited.
Alucard clicks his tongue at Carmilla's name. He's never met her in person, only by reputation, and that has been more than enough. She'd see Alucard for the threat he is, and that means he must move faster. He'd ask additional questions, but it seems that a tiny dog has killed all hope in that department.]
I'm afraid I can't quite control the wind and thus if he's likely to catch my scent. Or if he'll recognize it as vampire or something else....
[Sure enough, with the direction of the sea breeze, there’s no preventing it. Soon enough, Hector can hear the yipping as well, and catch site of a tiny dark shape moving in the shadows on the deck of his ship.]
Damn it. It won’t matter what you are. So long as you have a hand to scratch, he’ll beg. He’s even tried to jump into your father’s lap before.
[He waves a hand and the lumbering crew make their way from the stairs to the rail where their rope still hangs. It’s always an awkward process, ferrying from one ship to another. Vampires bypass it with flight, but Hector is stuck doing it the mortal way.]
I’ve got to go calm him or there will be no peace for anyone. Good night.
[He says it as a farewell as he heads to the railing after his men. Because of course Alucard will be satisfied with that and won’t have any desire to see the dog, right? Hector is used to having to shoo Cesar away from vampires who would ignore him at best and kick at him at worst.]
[Alucard pauses, then...okay, sure. One of his father's top men apparently has a small, yappy, needy dog. That's the least of all eccentric things that one could ever have, and it suggests one thing: perhaps Hector is better off outside of such employ.
Those are thoughts best left unsaid, save for the mental image of a dog attempting to leap into Dracula's lap. There's a soft noise that might be a laugh at such an attempt, and...
...he wants to see the dog, God help him.]
Would it help calm him down if he saw who it was and then there's no more fussing to be had?
[Hector turns to eye Alucard, suspicious after that sound of his. It looks like he has a needy dog on one side and a curious dhampir on the other.
Well, he can't actually judge, because if he heard a dog, he would also insist on seeing it. That is the life he lives.]
It won't work like that, but at this point, you may as well come and see him.
[He hops over the rail and starts the climb down to the boat. With his focus on reaching his anchored vessel, he pays no attention to the fog-covered horizon.]
Alucard actually follows Hector down like a human, rather than just floating. It seems fair, and he doesn't want to scare the dog. Who--
--well, once Alucard sees the dog, he understands entirely. Not just what Hector really is in his father'e estimation, but why a dog might be so needy. He's a tiny thing, and they have tendencies at that size.]
Does he have a certain approach that's preferred when meeting strangers?
[The undead sailors paddle them back to the ship, and when they climb aboard, Cesar is already there, hopping to see them. Each time he lands, there is a clinking of nails and one bony paw on the wooden deck. He is dressed in a tiny pirate hat with a little eye patch over his missing eye, because Hector is used to being the only live thing on his ship and he has no self-control.]
It's always like this. Very few of my associates are willing to indulge him.
[So Hector keeps him close. The little pug snorts in Hector's direction, but spins around and waits for the newcomer to reach him and stoop to pet him. Hector sighs.]
[Oh goodness that's...endearing. And so Alucard does the only thing one can ever do in this situation: kneel down and extend a hand out to Cesar, both to be sniffed and more importantly, to administer pets.]
I am commonly known on the seas as Alucard. It's...perhaps not wise to name me by my parentage at the moment.
[Because Alucard is so subtle.
But the dhampir is at least gentle with Cesar, not rushing the pup along.]
[If Dracula is a vampirate, Cesar is a puprate. Hector only puts him in his little hat when they are safely away from the court, and Cesar is always very pleased to wear it.]
Your secret is safe with little Cesar.
[They are in the middle of the ocean. Hector doesn't know who Alucard expects will overhear them.
Cesar, for his part, hops and yips and rolls over to present his tummy to the pale hand. Hector watches his pet fondly. Alucard is treating him gently, in spite of the obvious signs of reanimation.]
Do you eat...or drink? [If the dhampir is here petting his dog, Hector might as well be a good host.]
[That dog is wearing a hat. Alucard has...questions, but they mostly boil down to how the hat stays in place.
And while they may be in the middle of the ocean, the wind will always carry. The ship could have it's spies. Alucard doesn't intend to invite more attention than he can manage. What he does intend to invite is Cesar's affection, and he goes for that belly rub with a very full gusto.]
Thank you for the hospitality, but I am satisfied in both areas. [Well, he's good on blood. The rest he'd rather take care of himself.]
[Shh, it has a little ribbon that goes under his chin, and it is adorable.
There may or may not be the vague shape of a ship materializing out of the fog, no big deal. What's more important is the little stubby tail that is twitching as Alucard rubs.]
[Through the mist, row boats laden with still, undead passengers cut silently through the water. They move unnaturally fast toward Hector's ship, yet unseen in the dark and the fog.
Cesar snorts, then rolls over and sits, hamming up his performance. He gives his head a little toss, then carefully raises a paw (the flesh one, Hector had to train him to use only that one) to place in Alucard's. Cesar's tongue lolls, and he looks expectantly from dhampir to human, unsure from which his treat will come, but so assured that it will come from someone.
Hector reaches into his pocket for a little bit of dried meat to toss him.]
Well done. [A throaty voice purrs as a shape rises from the water and comes to hover over the deck.] Did you teach him that, Hector? Such a clever boy. Go on, give him his treat.
[Carmilla steps out, a white shape from the billowing white fog.]
You did quite a clever trick yourself, Hector, finding the Ghost Ship all by yourself. I wonder what treat I'll give you... [She smiles with her fangs.
Hector stumbles backwards, trying to put more distance between himself and her. Cesar's treat drops onto the deck, and Cesar huffs.]
[Cesar's a good dog. But to give any more compliments demands time that now they don't have. Alucard's eyes go from Cesar (who is blameless in this scenario) to Hector, who now? Now he has no trust in at all. Even if he was followed unaware, it doesn't matter. Carmilla has taken advantage of the situation.
There is a raw, furious hiss from Alucard, and without lifting a finger, his sword moves out of it's sheath and goes right for Carmilla's throat.
It's a cheap tactic. With a horrible burst of vampire speed, Alucard has leaped off Hector's boat entirely, and is relying on his own flight abilities to get back to his ship.
He can't fight. This is about retreat, and lasting until dawn.]
[Carmilla flashes to one side as the sword whizzes towards her, and a harsh chuckle bubbles forth from her blood-red lips.]
A great weapon I looked for, and a great weapon I've found.
[Her crew has surrounded the ship, undead thralls in boats and lesser vampires hovering or jumping to pursue Alucard. Some are already making for the ghost ship.
Hector's hand goes for his hammer, but he hesitates, trying to judge the right moment. The second he strikes out, there is no going back, and this close, surrounded by this many of Carmilla's loyal minions as well as the vampiress herself, he has to make it count.
Carmilla surges forward, but not overboard after Alucard. Not yet. She goes to Cesar, who is sniffing out the dropped treat, oblivious to the danger around him. In a blur of motion too fast to track, the pup is in Carmilla's arms.]
Behave, pet. [She says, not to Cesar. Hector stares at her with undisguised hatred, but drops his hand. Damn it. Damn it!
Smirking, she flies in pursuit of Alucard, carrying in her clawed hands the one piece of leverage that would actually serve to keep Hector at bay.]
[There's no time to concentrate on sending the sword further after Carmilla. Alucard can only recall it back to his side, already halfway over the waters now and in need of a bladed weapon. The boats, their sailors, he punches through them as they move close, the real problem being the lesser vampires who share the flying ability.
But he is the Son of Dracula. That comes with far greater power than most of them can ever dream of having, and more than one foe finds themselves buried in the water.
Alucard doesn't turn until he's managed to reach his own ship. Oh yes, there are more fiends aboard now, but this is his ship and that deserves defense.
Before he can communicate to the thing (for he can communicate with it to a degree for basic defenses), his eyes flash back to Hector's ship. Carmilla...ah. She has a hostage, and that is a cruel thing. But the part of Alucard that isn't certain that this was't intended? He thinks good. He then thinks fog and soon that billows forth from all around the ghost ship.]
[Seething, Hector dives below deck the moment Carmilla is away. Oh, she wants to see his pets now, does she?
In the spare time between pirate excursions and his little science field trips, Hector fills his time with tinkering. The vampires all know he likes to dabble. They look to Isaac for reliable forged creatures in bulk; Hector is the one to ask for something unique, a bespoke horror.
What he has tried to keep under wraps are the creatures he has designed and given to no one else. He likes to have an ace up his sleeve, so to speak. One of them is below deck, not yet animated to keep his ‘allies’ from sensing it. Another is...below.
He raises his hammer and makes a swinging motion. The head of the weapon makes contact with nothing, but the clear ringing of a strike fills the air. The darkened bulkhead glows with a blue light.
Hector is getting his damn dog back.
Carmilla and her minions close in on Alucard. Carmilla has no compunction about sending her crew to their deaths. They are chess pawns, meant to be sacrificed.
The boats of undead paddle forth. Some lose their way in the enchanted mist, but the ones that reach the hull use weapons or claws to begin tearing say it.
The vampires are not driven by sight. Scent can lead them to their quarry.]
Dear Alucard, why do you run? Don’t you know how much your father misses you?
[It’s a clear taunt. Why wander through the mist for a quarry when they can be enticed to come to you?]
Come out, come out, wherever you are. It’s time to go home, little boy.
[Her voice and Cesar’s little whimpers are near, from somewhere on deck.]
[Wind. Alucard needs wind, and he knows the ship can still generate it. It's one of the ship's defenses, but he has to get to the wheel in order to make that happen. He lets out a snarl that is far too feral, and then Alucard is no man at all, but a wolf who is happy to tear out throat after throat.
Carmilla's taunts deserve no response. She's a thing that thrives on cruelty, and that has always been a known within the family. More than that, she is a threat in this moment and Alucard will not surrender to anyone or anything. It is cruel to Cesar, yes, but in this moment, Alucard's concern is only for his continued existence.
He makes it to the wheel. There are injuries upon him, but they are healing, and once both of the dhampir's hands are upon that wheel, the ship hums to life. Flags unfurl with no crew. The fog scatters for the time being, forcing everyone's whereabouts to be revealed.
Alucard doesn't know if Hector's coming aboard. He can't know, and he can't wait either. The sails have caught wind, and he must leave.]
[As the wind cuts through the blinding fog, Carmilla lunges forward, a pale wraith with rapier-sharp nails aimed at Alucard's throat. She is hoping to tear into him while his hands are occupied upon the ship's wheel. That he ripped his way through her troops in his wolf form seems to phase her not at all.
Hector, meanwhile, is making his way to Alucard's ship. His jolly boat is too slow, but that's fine. That's not what he's using. He glides above the waves, one hand firmly grasping the leg of his freshest <a href="https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/castlevania/images/5/59/Cod_02.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110430152856</a>forged creation</a>. It's not true flight- he's too heavy for that- but having leapt from his ship's mast, he has the height for his bird familiar to coast with him to the Ghost Ship.
He lands on the deck, releasing the bird's clawed foot and jogging a few steps until his momentum dies. Then he looks around.
There are dead minions, and some injured and writhing. More shapes are closing in, crawling up the sides and drawing closer. One of Carmilla's vampirates has Cesar held by the scruff, having been handed the hostage under the cover of mist to free his captain's hands.
Carmilla is attacking Alucard, surely intent on subduing him and bringing him back with her to use as a weapon in her campaign for dominance in the courts.
Hector has not, as of yet, done anything that will irrevocably mark him as a traitor. He could do nothing, wait, and collect his dog when Carmilla finishes here. With the greater prize of Dracula's son won, the pup would be of no more concern to her.
Except that Alucard was a decent fellow to him and his dog, and told him where to find turtles. Carmilla, on the other hand, is a right bitch, and she stole his dog.]</small>
Carmilla!
<small>[He shouts. His hammer glows a pale blue. The bird swoops from the sky, this time trained at the arm of the pirate holding Cesar. Beyond the circle of mist around the ship, something begins to creak and groan. Wood splinters and cracks. It's the unmistakable death groans of a ship, and its coming from the direction of Carmilla's vessel.
The Question: Did Hector secretly forge himself a Kraken?
The Answer: He is a necromancer pirate. He absolutely forged himself a Kraken.]</small>
[Alucard does indeed take the blow, the ship's wheel spinning madly as a result. The whole vessel turns in horrible circles as a result, destroying everyone's balance in the process. But that's a moment's advantage - Alucard rolls over with Carmilla, over and over and over, claws and teeth and superhuman strength resulting in the two slamming each other all over the ship's deck.
It means they both miss Hector's approach. That he's even on the ship, because trying to beat each other to a pulp is far more important. It continues until Carmilla's name is called out, and....
...there's a moment of very quiet tension where both vampire and dhampir stop. Look up. And stare at the fact that Hector forged himself a fucking Kraken.
And in that shocked moment, the two voice one thought:]
((ahhhh, so sorry about the coding fail above. this is what i get for phone tagging))
[Hector's dramatic entrance is ruined by the lurching of the ship throwing everything into chaos. He stumbles too, knees weak with the giddy triumph of his Kraken tearing through Carmilla's ship in the distance. She is still a work in progress, the labor of nearly a year of secret forging, and this is her first trial.
His breath hitches, and comes out in a strangled laugh. He has officially rebelled and now any vampire that doesn't want to kill him on sight for his betrayal is going to hunt him to the ends of the earth, wanting a Kraken of their own, and he is so fucked.]
Shouldn't have touched my dog, you cur....
[His words would probably have more bite behind them if he didn't sound half-hysterical.
His bony devil-bird tears at its target vampire with beak and talons until it drops the hostage dog. Cesar makes a mad scramble towards Hector with his stubby legs.
Carmilla refrains from waxing poetic about the various ways she is going to make Hector pay for destroying her ship. She is, above all else, ruthlessly calculating, and in the middle of a fight is not the time for it. She now has two targets: the Son of Dracula and the Devil Forgemaster. If she can only take one, she will come for the other later.
Right now, Alucard is the one she is entangled with, and the one who will be harder to track should he escape. Hector, the idiot human, she is sure she could find again.
She turns all of her rage and fury to her opponent, testing his strength against hers. She will retreat if she no longer has the advantage, but not a moment before she has to if there is a possibility of victory.
Hector, drained from maintaining concentration on the Kraken, leaves Carmilla to Alucard for now. He is a decent fighter, for a human, but that does not mean he is an equal to either of the two of them without his forged creatures by his side. There are plenty of other foes that he is better matched to face, and he raises his hammer and calls to his bird devil as he moves toward the nearest of them to try to even the playing field a little.]
[Alucard own calculations are not as calm as he wants them to be. There is a part of him that is well and truly scared of Carmilla, because she is an elder vampire and a powerful one at that. How she killed her sire is no particular secret, and it has always marked her as someone to be deeply cautious of.
Now isn't the time for caution though. Now is a time of madness, with Hector sending Carmilla's ship to the bottom of the ocean, with other forged creatures tearing at Carmilla, and a tiny little dog running to it's master.
And yet it is Alucard who is pursued. He has a scant moment to employ what autopilot controls he can with the ship, and then Carmilla has the full of his attention. Her attack is met with snarls and fury, his sword in hand and the two of them in the air.
He needs help. He needs some way to at least distract her, to have a moment's advantage, to do anything. The sword can only do so much, and the hits that Carmilla does land sends Alucard reeling. The worst is the moment she flings him against the mast, then pounces upon him to drive his head into the deck of the ship several times over. Alucard still gets up, but it takes effort. Effort Carmilla sees, and knows that she need only wait him out.]
[Hector focuses on the other enemies on the deck, using his hammer to scald them with blue fire. His rapier is only effective against mortal enemies, and he keeps it sheathed at his side for now.
His plan falls apart when Alucard is thrown against the mast. Fuck but Hector was hoping he'd be Carmilla's equal in battle.
His hammer flames up again, and the force of his concentration has even his eyes glowing blue. The ship is rocked by a wave out of sync with the ocean's rhythm. A tentacle breaches the surface, groping upward until it finds the ship's rails.]
You've nowhere to run, Carmilla. ['You do, see that you do, take the damn bait, Carmilla,' he begs silently. If this bluff doesn't work....]
I will hunt you down, boy. [She hisses, making her decision. Alucard and Hector alone were within her power to crush, but this new arrival is an large and terrifying unknown. Carmilla takes risks, but only calculated ones.
And she does still have somewhere to run. Her ship is gone, but it's not the only one within range. Hector's vessel is still anchored within the mist, guarded now only by a few undead seaman, easily disposed of.
She delivers one final smack at Alucard, then takes a running leap off of the side of the ship, flying in the direction of Hector's boat. Her vampire minions follow, abandoning the forged creatures of their ranks who cannot fly.
The flame dies away from Hector, and his knees buckle beneath him. The single tentacle unwraps from the mast and sinks back down into the water.]
[On a good day, Alucard could withstand the blows and then some. But he has only woken not even an hour ago, and to be ready for a vampire of Carmilla's age (or older, in the case of Dracula himself) requires at least a day or so of true preparation.
It's a shameful loss, Hector's ship. Certainly one Hector didn't anticipate, and now he's locked in with Alucard for as long as the two can survive. Alucard can only manage to strike down those horrible minions who try to leave with her, and they are few in number.
Hector's on the deck. Alucard can only hiss with a cold fury:]
Get up. You're taking one of my life boats and you are beating her back to my father's side before she can share her version of what has happened here.
[Hector stays down. He's lost his ship -the closest thing he's had to a home since infancy- and his place among the pirate court. Alucard is sending him to his death. He stretches out a hand and wiggles his fingers, and Cesar patters over to him, bumping his head into his master's palm.]
Are you mad? If I return, in your lifeboat no less, he'll see through it in a heartbeat. I'll be keelhauled and then drained. Godbrand calls it 'brining'. Says it makes the blood taste pickled. They consider it a delicacy.
[He's rambling, he's well aware of the fact. Maybe this is a nightmare and he'll wake up from it soon.]
I attacked one of Dracula's vampire admirals. I can't go back after that. Weren't you running? We should do that.
[Alucard's eyes flash to something redder. Something closer to his father's.]
Yes, the motors on my lifeboats will give my presence away. Fine. Let him know I am awake, he'll find it out soon. Get there before her and spin the story. She was hunting me, and you, in doing your duty as a general under his command, prevented her from disobeying his express orders in leaving this boat be. You aren't sure if I woke or not, there was too much chaos.
She bears the blame for when I do wake. She'll come and attack me all the same, let her mean it and let her rage make her sloppy.
Who is he more likely to believe, Hector? You or her?
He doesn't believe anyone. He doesn't trust anyone.
[But all the resistance is gone out of Hector. It's a hopeless situation. He has no ship, and he can't hope to take Alucard's. Alucard will not let him stay, and even if he took the lifeboat and made to escape, he'd never be able to outrun the pursuit that will surely follow.
It seems that his life is always destined to bring him back to Dracula's court for lack of choice. He never expected to live long among the vampires. Resignation settles into his bones.
It is not as though Alucard owes him anything. What concern of his is Hector's fate?
He pushes himself to his feet. If he has nothing else, he'll have his pride to the end.]
Fine. Launch the lifeboat. [Whatever slim chance Alucard seems to think they have whittles down further the longer he delays.]
Then leave here and find some other refuge, I don't care, but if you want a chance of saving your hide before Carmilla ruins you that is your chance.
[Alucard needs to get moving. His patience is gone, and there are two parts of him warring for dominance right now: the part that is calm, rational, and ready to deal with the situation and the other part that is absolutely terrified of how his father will react right now.
There's such visible relief when Hector says fine. He nearly trips over himself getting over to the life boat, and he's quick to not only gesture Hector over, but to explain the navigational features that will bring him back to Dracula's side. He speaks hurriedly, betraying how truly rattled he is by what is going to happen next.]
[Hector shakes his head. They’re both too shaken to really be fully present in the preparations, but it’s fine. Hector knows what he’s doing on a boat, and he has his enchanted compass to guide his way.
He lowers himself and Cesar into the boat; his devil-bird circles above like a harbinger of his approaching doom. The Kraken has withdraw into the depths, safer than the rest of them by far.]
I’m not going to look which direction you sail off to. I’ll assume it’s south.
[That’s the best he can do by way of giving Alucard a head start. The boat is lowered into the water and Hector mimics the control mechanisms Alucard had demonstrated. No ‘goodbyes’ or ‘good lucks’, just a swift departure without looking back.]
[And so Alucard is left alone on the open ocean, captain of a ghost ship, aware of how precious little time he has left.
His path does not cross Hector's until a fortnight later. The first day, he docked the boat and took o supplies, meeting one of those wandering crew members who hops from ship to ship, the blue of their (hers, she clarifies later) coat signifying an old wold connection to the Speakers. She knows the legends of his ship, other legends connected to it, but Alucard refuses to let her come aboard. They part ways at the end of the day, the Speaker muttering under her breath about other parts of the story that need to be tracked down.
Carmilla engages him twice more in the two weeks. Every time, Alucard evades capture, and the only reason Carmilla manages to take him prisoner and sink the ship the third time is due only to numbers. Alucard is a single dhampir. Three fully functioning ship with appropriate crew and then some? It would always be his ruin.
The worst part of capture is not sitting chained in a cell, silver burning into his wrists and ankles, starved of sunlight and barely given appropriate food for man or vampire. It is the total disinterest by his father. There is no rage, hardly a blink of the eye. Or maybe there is, and Carmilla is simply not permitted to see it. Alucard can't say. The only satisfaction he takes is how Carmilla is dismissed and given no reward for her effort. That she doesn't explode in fury on the spot feels like an accomplishment of some sort for her.
Alucard has mastered silence though as vampire after vampire has walked by his horrible little cell. Carmilla's gloating, Godbrand's....Godbrand-ness, and even Isaac's presence have all gotten the horrible stare of silence from Alucard. When the door opens yet again, he expects to see Carmilla's face.
Instead, it's the click-click-click of little doggy paws.
[Outwardly, Hector walks with the arrogant swagger he's cultivated among the devil's court. Cold, aloof... with his ridiculous little dog following in his shadow, but there's no help for that.
Inwardly, he is close to turning and pretending he never had this idea. It's a terrible, terrible plan.
He has no choice, though. He saw the indifference of his lord to his own son. He knows the conditions of the cells. Alucard doesn't deserve that.
...and Dracula, a remnant of his former self, would not have wanted that. For the sake of the man he'd once been, Hector must intervene. No one will accuse him of loyalty, but he owes Lord Dracula that much.
It's about a quarter hour to sunrise. The vampires are retreating to their inner chambers, but not yet on high alert the way they get if they hear movement around them when the sun is up.
Hector has been in his forge all the night, both to avoid giving Carmilla a chance for retaliation and to present the illusion of normalcy. It's not unlike him to be wandering so late...early...after a night of work, and he takes the turn through the cells as if on a whim. 'Oh, the son of Dracula is kept within, riiiight. Might as well peek in.'
He swings open the door, acutely aware of the creaking noise it makes. Cesar rushes in and over to the dhampir, but Hector stays further back. His back blocks the little barred window set into the door, hiding from view the little forged gremlin that climbs out of his vest and begins to fiddle with the silver locks.]
Is your homecoming everything you thought it would be?
[He asks, voice pitched to 'taunting'. He hopes it can cover the soft clicks of the gremlin's lock-picking from supernaturally perceptive ears.]
As I've said to all others who have come in here...
[Silence.
Alucard was sort of amazed that Hector had managed to get back to the court and survive. Carmilla alone should have killed him, and yet...no. The how and why didn't matter. His plan had worked. Bought Alucard time, and maybe there would be an assist from that Speaker in time. That was what he had told himself, and yet it is Hector who is here, having made a decision.
It wasn't what Alucard was expecting. But it is something that gets a quiet nod of Alucard's head, fully acknowledging what it is that Hector has done. What he is putting at risk. What a relief it is to be rid of the silver that has eaten at his flesh.]
[Hector had, as planned, beaten Carmilla back to Dracula, and Carmilla had taken one step onto Dracula's flagship, assessed the situation, and chosen to carry her fight on privately, rather than publicly. She was not ready to stage her coup, so that meant, for now, Hector could not be touched so long as he was in Dracula's sight.
And so until she had gone off to chase Alucard, Hector had kept very close to Dracula. She's managed to corner him below deck once, but she'd been careful to keep her marks concealed. His back and chest are a patchwork of deep nail gouges and purpling bruises. It was a preview of the torture to come, once she held power.
Hector doesn't plan on sticking around long enough to see that come to pass.]
You're a stunning conversationalist. I can't imagine why they haven't been back for another round.
[One manacle pops open, then the other. Hector holds out a palm, a gesture for Adrian to stay still. He takes a flask from his belt and tosses it in Alucard's direction. He's careful not to move from his position blocking the window, in case anyone walks by. The gremlin tucks itself back into the folds of his clothing when the last lock is picked.]
You caused such trouble for the lady admiral, destroying her ship. She commandeered mine, and I've had to procure a new one. A less upstanding man than myself would be loath to forgive that.
[It's the kind of drivel the vampires love to spit out before they close in to break fingers or bite out jugulars. He trusts Alucard to pick up on his meaning. 'I have a ship.' He can't speak plainly here, and once they make their move, there will be little time, and even less room for error.]
[Alucard makes no sound as the silver falls away from his wrists or his legs. He can't, that'll give everything away. He can move with absolute silence, but he can't put weight on his ankles right now.
He catches the flask, opening it carefully once there is skin around his wrists again. The silver has worn down to bone in certain spots, and that? That's painful for vampire, dhampir, and human alike. It's awful, and Alucard knows that this will get worse before it even starts to remotely improve.
With the last lock picked, Alucard floats upward. Just a little. Just to show that he can move and move quietly, for what else can he do? Walking would be agony right now. The dramatic fuck he is, he'll just float behind Hector and pray it will be enough.
He nods once to show Hector he's listening. That he understands.]
[Hector takes a deep breath. Alucard can move, but he'll be limited in what else he can do. There goes the plan of walking him out of here as a wolf.
Well, this is it. He flicks his eyes to Cesar, then to Alucard. If Hector is masterminding this escape, he's going to need his hands free. Alucard will have to be responsible for the dog.
He holds up three fingers, two, one.
A resounding boom rings out on the far end of the prison. Hector waits a beat as guards rush past, and then he shoves the door open. He looks left, in the direction of the explosion, then right. Clear. He moves, heading in the opposite direction. His distraction won't take long for the pirates to figure out, but hopefully it will let them get to their ship and into sunlight.]
[He can carry Cesar. That's fine. Alucard holds his arms out for the dog to leap into, trusting the little thing to try and avoid the still healing flesh on his wrist. (The silver's lingering presence is delaying the otherwise instant healing.) He just. Gives the dog a gentle squeeze as a form of reassurance that this vampire isn't going to be mean or hold him hostage.
Cesar's more reassuring than anything else right now.
He's ready to go when the boom sounds, hovering right behind Hector. Alucard's a ridiculous sight and he knows it. He also doesn't care, not now. Not when he has to follow Hector because his life depends on it. It does, in fact, depend on it.]
[Hector makes his way down the corridor without hesitation. He has to trust that Alucard will keep up.
A guard from further down the way turns the corner and Hector takes his hammer and smashes the man's skull before he can even register the sight of Alucard behind him. They come in pairs, and sure enough, a moment later, the partner rounds the same corner and meets the same brutal fate.
Hector steps over the two of them and keeps moving. One more long stretch of hallway, then a short stairwell, then the guardroom. There are screams from within. The gaibon demon he forged to be the guards' backup, having the firy malfunction he planned.
He pushes through the door outside, and sees the sky with the slight glow just starting to spread in the horizon. They aren't out of danger yet, but the sight is a welcome one.
He breaks into a run. His ship is at the furthest dock, and his forged sailors are already on deck, making her ready to sail.]
[Alucard absolutely can keep up. Floating expends less energy than trying to run on his own feet right now, and his eyes are simply ever ahead. For all the violence happening in this escape, Alucard knows that he isn't useful right now. He's good for dog holding. That's about it.
The screams of pained guards give Alucard no pause. The sunrise doesn't either, because there is still enough time for one or two terribly quick vampires to still make good work of himself and Hector.
Once the ship comes into view though, Alucard no longer trails behind Hector. He instead matches pace, neck-in-neck with the forgemaster. His arms tighten around Cesar, making sure the little dog is secured as they reach the last leg of this horrible run for freedom.]
[Hector’s new ship is a lighter vessel than his last, chosen for speed rather than fire power. It’s not stocked for a long journey; he could only make so many preparations without arousing suspicion. It’s normal to be prepared for a few day’s journey on short notice, so that is what Hector did.
There’s a skeleton crew (literally) on board, raising the anchor and lowering the sails. None of his pets, other than Cesar. Too many of the vampires would take note if he moved all of them at once. He’s spent the last few days making them as whole as they can be, then releasing them into the wild, one by one, in secret. Cesar’s wholly unprepared to fend for himself, but luckily bringing him along to the forge is a common enough occurrence, so he got away with it.]
You two get below deck.
[He has one final weapon held back in case of pursuit. It was an idea of Carmilla’s, ironically. She’d asked, and he had acquired the necessary components and tested the theory.
If anyone tries to follow, Hector is going to pull out his reanimated bishop and bless the waters.
It’s a mad plan, and with the churning movement of the waves, the blessing will dissipate within minutes, but it will hold back the supernatural long enough for the sun to rise.
So Alucard better get his undead dog safety stowed where no sea spray can reach him.
The sails unfurl and the ship begins, agonizingly slow, to move from the dock.]
[He moves ahead of Hector at that. Alucard has instruction, he knows where he must go, and there's no need to dwaddle further. This is important, and so he darts ahead at the speed of a vampire, arms still holding Cesar tightly to his chest.
Once on the deck, Alucard slows, looking back to make sure Hector hasn't stumbled. The young man is still running, which fills Aluard with some concern, but it'll have to be what it is. Human speed takes him below deck, and once there, he places Cesar down on the ground.]
Find a good place to hide out.
[Alucard goes to the stairs that lead to the deck itself, just in case he's needed in a pinch.]
I'll make sure your owner doesn't get himself killed.
Damn show-off... [Hector pants as he runs after Alucard. It's good that he's moving quickly, though, burdened with precious cargo as he is.
He doesn't dare slow down to look behind him, but the hairs on the back of his neck are prickling. They need to go. He needs to act. Alucard had better be out of the water's range.
He raises his hammer, and the bishop rises from where Hector had stowed him behind some crates on the deck of the ship. There is a rope tied around his waist. He steps unwavering into the water and is caught suspended like a buoy in the waves.]
Bless it! [Hector commands, still running at full speed.
The bishop begins to chant in murmured Latin -Hector had replaced his voicebox with a fresher one to ensure he could deliver the blessing- and wisps of steam and power begin to rise off of the water.
Hector reaches the dock and takes a leap for the ship, but something crashes into his back and drags them both into the water. Before he hits the surface, Hector gets a whiff of them. Motherfucking Godbrand.
They fall, entangled, into the water, and Hector feels the arms wrapped around him begin to convulse in agony. Godbrand tears at him with sword and claws, but the cursed flesh is being stripped from his bones by the holy water. Hector thrashes and kicks his way free.
There are other vampires following behind, but they stop short of the dock, hissing, as the wind sends a spray of water at them.
Hector swims for the ship, which is moving further from the dock and picking up speed, praying that none of the vampires had a bow and arrows at hand.]
[Show off or not, it gets the job done. And it means the vampire can't float idly by either, not until he knows they're both safe. He floats up the steps, always careful to remain in the stairwell. It isn't a great line of sight, it isn't amazing in terms of fighting, but it gives him an idea of what's going on and--
bless it Hector commands and Alucard feels his gut wrench just a little. He can guess about the corpse. He can hear the Latin and that's all he has to know. It's fucked up. It's horrifying. It's a hell of a move and he's so relieved Hector is on his side. (Even if he's not in view.)
He's not in view for too long. Alucard swears softly, and heads below deck. He finds a sail cloth, and that'll be waterproof enough for now. Running onto the deck and aware of the risk, he makes quick work of at least releasing a life boat that ought to get to Hector's direction. He's tied a rope to it, so that it can be dragged in and Hector doesn't have to play catch up.]
[The life boat makes a loud smack as it drops into the water, and Hector hears it even partially submerged. He reorients to swim toward it, and it's not a moment too soon.
The vampires raging on the dock have realized that even if they do not dare cross the blessed water, they can still throw things. A barrage of projectiles -knives and axes, rocks, a goddamn wheel from another ship- sail at him, thrown by supernaturally strong arms, and Hector takes a few hits before he reaches the boat and hoists himself inside. He presses himself against the side of the boat and curls into a ball, shielding himself as best he can from the weapons raining down on him.
The splashes and thunks keep up as the boat is dragged behind the larger ship, until the sun creeps higher and the cursing vampires slink back to their shelters.
They'll regroup once they are safely inside and send out a party of mortal thralls or forged creatures to pursue them, but even that will take some time. Hector and Alucard just need to make the most of this head start.]
[Alucard does what he can to haul the boat in. There's holy water splashed on the deck, but he can step and avoid it for now. The boat itself? That'll be a problem but he will worry about that once they're at that point. He dares to stay on the deck as the sun rises, hoping to draw weapons and ire.
It's hardly enough to spare Hector. Alucard prays there's bandages on board to address that much, and once the sun is high enough in the sky, he starts to actually haul the boat up.
He burns himself a few times. No surprise, the boat and it's rope are now soaked in holy water. But it's more important to get the ship's captain into a position of command, and Alucard knows that. Moreover, he knows he can't take charge, not without Hector's say so.
Once the little lifeboat is hauled up properly, Alucard offers his hand out to Hector to help him disembark.]
[Hector is reeled in like a fish. He’s grateful for the assistance; ordering his crew to perform complex tasks when he’s otherwise engaged and out of mutual line of sight is tricky, so this is much faster.
He shoos away Alucard’s proffered hand, still dripping wet.]
Off with you. I can see your fingers sizzling.
[He doesn’t know what to do with the genuine thanks Alucard offers. There is precious little sincerity in Dracula’s court, so Hector isn’t prepared for it.
He climbs out of the boat and sags against the railing. At a silent order, the skeleton crew reels in the bishop...well, the three-quarters that are left of him. Still, in spite of the damage the water has done to him, he could prove useful again. Waste not, want not.]
You said it’d be my fault if you were discovered. I’m just making amends.
[That’s not really it, but that’s the easiest excuse at hand.]
[It is not fine. It hurts like hell, especially with the burns from the silver still a little too fresh for Alucard's comfort. He doesn't argue with Hector though, because now isn't the time. He withdraws instead, but is careful to give the bishop a wide berth. That's a face he remembers. That's a face he wants to tear apart with his own hands.
The desire to snarl at the figure is kept in check. Alucard's attention returns to Hector.]
Regardless, I am grateful. Your dog is below deck, I think he found himself a suitable hiding place.
[But then Alucard falls silent. Stands there awkwardly. This...no.]
[Hopefully Cesar isn't making too much of a nuisance of himself down there. Hector will have to retrieve them once he's certain the holy water has all diffused. The duration wasn't something he was able to test.
If Alucard wants to take his orders, Hector will put him to work.]
There's bandages in the Captain's quarters. No one but me ever needs them on my ship. You can decide if yours are worth treating until you regenerate. Mere human I am, I'll need to patch myself up.
[He steps to the wheel and pulls out his compass. They need to outrun Dracula's forces or hide from them, and Hector has a lot of thoughts but few solid ideas.
He calls back over his shoulder.]
We can't rival your father at sea. Have you ever considered moving inland?
[This replacement ship is able to fare the open sea, but it's not so large he couldn't take it up a river and out of Dracula's domain.]
I don't know if my blood can turn humans, and I'm in no mood to try. Pardon me then.
[Alucard begins to make his way to the captain's quarters, confident with where they're likely located. It's better, actually doing something rather than sitting around. It makes Alucard feel much more productive, at the very least.]
It would depend on where inland. Where are we?
[It's a question to wait on, as Alucard disappears into the quarters. It takes a few moments to find bandages and a few other useful things, and he comes back out on deck with only bandages pressed to his own wrists. It isn't much, just enough to absorb the thin stream of blood that's still trickling out.]
The port we just left was on one of the smaller islands in the Bahamian archipelago. We're headed due east, to get us into the cover of sunlight faster, but we can change course. North, to the American territories, or south into the jungle regions. We can't make it across the Atlantic on the supplies we've got now.
[Until they decide, he's focused on using the wind and the ocean currents to just get distance from their starting point.
Getting the ship up to speed, he hands the wheel off to the nearest crewman. He strips out of his still dripping shirt.]
Time to find out. I ache everywhere, but most of that was from Carmilla's friendly pats on the back.
[His torso is a mess of bruises and gashes from claw-like nails. There's a fresh wound slightly under and to the side of his shoulder blade; something bladed that had grazed him but dislodged and sunk into the sea.
The adrenaline from their mad dash to escape is starting to fade, and he's feeling everything now.]
There's also rum back in my room. Best medicine there is for hopeless cases like us.
I'd say north, but only if we have enough supplies to manage it. If not, then...
[Alucard shakes his head. The Speakers. No, that one Speaker. Maybe she can do something. Anything. She seemed so capable.
Now isn't the time to think about her. Alucard walks to get a better look at Hector's injuries, quiet and trying to be as professional as possible all things considered.]
I want to see how deep things are first. It may be best to have you sitting while I take a look - can you have one of your creatures take the wheel for a time?
[As for rum, Alucad sniffs.]
That is for disinfecting wounds only. We cannot hope to manage our current situation with it anywhere else.
'If not, then...' what? If you have a plan, out with it. A secret hidden base, or an alliance with the Belmont Armada, or anything that might keep us alive once the sun goes down?
[Hector's already gone past the point he planned for. He'd kind of assumed he wouldn't make it this far, so past Hector hadn't seen a point to trying to predict the circumstances and odds for that slim change of success.
And considering his plan has ended up with him trapped on a ship with the world's only abstinent vampire confiscating his rum, he might actually be dead and in hell at this very moment.]
If I die sober, I'm haunting your pale ass.
[He grumbles, but makes quick work changing the bearings of the ship to begin going north- it's as good a direction as any for now. Hector's the only one who will actually need to eat, so their supplies should get them there. He gives the wheel back to the crewman with orders to maintain full speed.
He sits on the deck, so Alucard will have the sun's light to work with. His quarters would be more comfortable, but dark, and there's no reason to waste a candle or oil for a lamp while the sun is up.]
I don't know, Hector! [He snaps far harsher than expected, but it's followed with a sobering sigh.] Just give me a few minutes to mull things over. I'll manage something.
[Because outside of Hector's escape plan, it seems like he needs to be the brain of this operation. That's just fine, but it does require time to think.
Thinking happens while Alucard begins to examine Hectors back, cold pale fingers being very, very careful as they ghost over bruises and bleeding marks. One or two get prodded at with a bit more intensity than others, but that's all.]
The good news is none of them seem to need stitches. I'd channel my mother and advise bedrest for a day or two, but that's not an option for us.
[Nothing is, it seems.]
Did you pack any salves or like ointments, or do we only have the rum?
[Hector blinks, shocked, when Alucard snaps. It makes sense, though. Hector has had a few days to prepare himself for this. Alucard was blindsided by his rescue and hasn't had a moment to process it. He's reacted admirably thus far, but it's no wonder he's reached the end of his rope.]
I'll have to fetch the medicines. It's a new ship, I can't remember exactly where I tucked them away.
[As banged up as he is, he's still in a more fit state than Alucard, who has seen the inside of Dracula's dungeon for more than a week and probably been tortured by the various vampires passing by in the night. If they're to complete this mad escape, they will need to keep moving both day and night. That necessitates Alucard being ready to take the wheel when the sun sets and Hector's human eyes fail him in the pale light the moon offers.]
You should see to yourself. You never told me what you eat, but I have a few days worth of rations below deck, or...
[He holds up his left hand, palm up, baring the wrist.]
...if you need blood to heal, no better time that when I'm getting bandaged up anyways.
[Alucard shakes his head, as if that will remove the shame he feels from snapping so suddenly at Hector. It doesn't work, but it's a decent enough attempt. He then pinches the bridge of his nose, certain that they'll manage this or else they'll kill each other first.]
Go do that. A few are probably in strange places for you to reach, so you may as well let me assist in the matter.
[Alucard's quick healing abilities made any sort of vampire torture boring after a while, along with Dracula's command that no one lay a hand on his son without his say so. The most torture was Carmilla's gloating, along with how she dared to comment on how Alucard was never quite a vampire anyway. Calling his mother a breeder was the most reaction she got, and that had nearly gotten Alucard a beating from her - in spite of Dracula's decrees.]
I don't need blood. Real food, perhaps, but I can manage for a day or two more without.
[Hector heaves out a breath, then pushes himself up off of the deck to get the medicine. He steps into the captain's quarters, which has a little light coming in through the window.
Turning, eying the various storage places built into the room, he goes to unlatch one of the cabinets set into the wall. The movement strains the cut on his back, and he sucks in a sharp hiss of breath. He gestures for Alucard to retrieve it.]
You should eat something. We're not so hard pressed for supplies we can't spare it, and I can't afford for you to not be at your best. You're going to have to at least direct the crew when I sleep, unless we can find somewhere within a day's journey to hide our ship where your father's fleet can't find it.
[He goes ahead to one of the drawers underneath his bed and gingerly tugs it open so he can grab himself a dry shirt and trousers to change into once he's bandaged.]
If we can get close enough to reach some sort of safe haven by the lifeboat, I could send the ship and the crew on as a decoy. Without my direction, they would only be able to maintain the course I set, but they might be able to buy us a day before they were caught and the ruse exposed.
[Hector has tried to think of plans, but he plays reactively in a game where all of his opponents plan their moves at least three steps in advance.]
[Alucard trails after Hector, careful and as respectful as he can be while within the Captain's quarters. It's still a private room, and that deserves some reverence, even though the situation is what it is.
Going into the cabinet, Alucard carefully evaluates the bottles there before picking one up. He recognizes the label, because it's a name for ointment his mother came up with. The handwriting? His father's, and that means it's an old jar. Before everything happened.]
We'll patch you up first then focus on my needs. [He's avoiding himself. It requires too much thinking and more processing than he wants to do right now.] A chair, sit with your front against it's back, or else a stool, please.
[Focusing on medicine is easier. More direct.]
I can direct them as is, I'm not an invalid or that weak. [He's maybe lying to himself with that, but Alucard's proven that he isn't falling over in spite of everything.]
The decoy would work, but I'd rather not sacrifice yet another vessel.
[Moreover:]</small
You mentioned the Belmont armada. The last I heard, they were branded pirates and were to be hunted down. Have they survived?
[Hector pulls out the chair that stows beneath his writing desk and straddles it.]
Your pride isn't worth both of us and my dog dead.
[One of these lives is greatly prioritized over the other two.]
When you're done with this, we will be attending you.
[A mastermind, he is not, but a stubborn bastard? Hector has that one down handily.]
The decoy's not an ideal plan, but it could work in a pinch.
The Belmonts...we thought their forces were all defeated and their remnants scatters to the corners of the world, but... it's another rumor. There was a convoy of vampires headed west, preying along one of the main trade routes. Only one ship of the lot of them made it back to port, and the crew said they saw the vessel that took the others down, and it was flying Belmont colors.
So that either means the Belmonts have returned, or that the crew of that ship had a grudge with the others and took the opportunity to founder their rivals, and sailed back to lay the blame at the feet of a bogeyman.
[Gossiping talking about the supposed Belmont revival is at least distracting Hector from Alucard's doctoring, even if it is all idle chatter.]
[There's that snap again. Alucard lets out a huff, unhappy with himself and his behavior but hardly feeling like now is the time to apologize. He just shuts himself up and does the work after that, fingers probably far too cool for this kind of work but knowing that there's no other option. The only good part is that doing the work means he has to be steadier, and that? That helps a great deal.
He listens though. Very carefully, and very considering.]
There would need to be independent corroboration of those rumors. [He says it finally, halfway through getting the bandages onto Hector. It's a steady thing - ointment, bandages, repeat. There's no interest in the blood that has gathered, because right now isn't the correct time to be looking at Hector and thinking "food."]
We need to resupply. That's the appropriate time to confirm or deny what was said, and move from there. If that fleet does exist then...
[Alucard shakes his head.]
I don't know. They may have an advantage. They won't harbor us.
What, is a bit of food and some basic medical attention going to harm you? Is it akin to sheering Sampson's hair off?
[They aren't a crew, really, but Hector is still the captain, and he has a responsibility to see to it that those on his ship have their needs seen to. He doesn't expect the captain of the empty and ridiculous ghost ship to understand that.]
If the rumors are true, following them would take us across an ocean that your father controls.
[He thinks, drumming his fingers on the back of the chair.]
...I know a witch, living near the coast in the colonies. She might have some sort of charm or talisman that would prevent anyone from scrying for our ship. That's the only way I could see us having a chance of sailing the open waters.
[He stands when Alucard finishes the bandages and pulls his shirt back on.]
Julia is a genuinely good person, and she's kept herself away from the vampire's court. I won't lead them to her door. I will only take us to her if we stay far enough ahead that we can be to her and gone before any of our pursuers know.
I need at least ten minutes to myself to think and come to grips with the past several days, thank you.
[Alucard is very well aware that he's testing hierarchy here. Maybe in a better mood, he'd care. Maybe if he also wasn't the son of Dracula, he'd care. As it is, he is a prickly ball and well aware that he needs space so he can be a polite enough person to not only deal with Hector, but start to make some plans.]
That he controls for now.
[They're words said with no small amount of darkness in them, because Alucard knows the truth here. His father's reign needs too end. Full stop.]
Do whatever you think would help avoid detection, but I think there's still the risk of leading Carmilla and hers towards the witch. I...would like to avoid any more witch deaths at this point in my life.
[It's tempting to become a wolf right now and just...disappear.]
If there's space below deck, it'd be better if I just rest for a short period of time.
Fine. Get out. I need to change my clothes anyways. The crew doesn't use the bunks below deck, so there's plenty of room for you to go brood.
[Hector's limited patience is gone, so it's probably mutually beneficial to have Alucard out of his sight and resting. If the dhampir flat out refuses Hector's assistance, then so be it.]
Come back up at sunset. I've no use of you 'til then.
[Hector will figure out the current course on his own. A quick resupply from a discrete storehouse, then if he can get a message to Julia, he could have her send something through one of his devils, maybe. That would minimize the risk to her...]
[Alucad retreats without another word, taking the form of a wolf and not a man. It's not a clever attempt at a metpahor either, it's Alucard admitting that to be a person right now is the most exhausting thing. He'd rather have an inhuman form.
He sleeps as a wolf too, curled up in a small nest of blankets he assembles for himself from the bunks below deck. It isn't terribly comfy, as the blankets are coarse and itchy, but he's exhausted. No one cares about that once they're exhausted.
He rises with the moon. Well, a little before that, as he works to make himself presentable first. When Alucard returns to the deck, it's with his hair swept up and off his neck in a neat bun, his ankles and wrists healed, and a far greater sense of both decorum and presence than the stressed, terrified, exhausted mess he was earlier.
More to the point: he approaches Hector and the first words out of his mouth are:] I would like to apologize for my earlier behavior. The circumstances made me far more disagreeable than I wanted to be.
[Alucard has spent the day resting and pulling himself together; Hector has spent that same time wildly working to keep them ahead of any pursuit. There are a couple of newly cobbled winged creatures perched on the ship's mast, and in spite of the failing light, he still has the ship going at full speed.
He's running on fumes now (and no rum), and he's not interested in sweetly kissing and making up.]
Yes, no shit.
[Cesar is on deck, too. Hector had sent one of his undead crewman to retrieve him from the hold after Alucard went below deck. He, at least, pads happily over to Alucard to greet him.
Hector tosses a little pouch at Alucard. It smells of ash and blood.]
I've been very careful to forge my crewmen to obey none but me. [A necessary precaution when living among creatures for whom mutiny was the normal means of advancement in the ranks.] When I activate this, they will react to you as if you are me. You will command their complete loyalty.
[It's a dangerous thing to grant another person. Alucard could take control of the ship with what Hector is about to grant him. It's Hector's only choice, though. It would take longer than he's got to fine-tune the order of command in their minds, and he needs Alucard to be deputized to act while Hector speaks. Enemies could fall upon them at any time.]
If you're carrying anything especially flammable, you'll want to remove it before I trigger the enchantment.
[Alucard pauses, looking up first. The winged things are...who the fuck is he to tell what's new and what isn't? He was barely paying attention earlier today, and now is no time at all to ask questions.]
...As you like.
[He isn't going to press that issue then. Cesar will get a proper greeting in time, and for now, Alucard's eyes remain on Hector himself.]
I understand. Unless there is a true emergency, I do not plan on disturbing them from their current tasks.
[That much is a truth. More than that, Alucard hasn't truly commanded a full ship. Not really. Most of his were automated things, much like Dracula's, that responded through buttons and controls rather than man power.]
There is nothing of a flammable nature on my person. Am I allowed to ask after our route and current trajectory?
[Without ceremony, Hector snaps his fingers, and the pouch erupts in blue flames. It burns in Alucard's hand, consuming the pouch but touching nothing else and producing no real heat. When the pouch is completely burned away, the flame dissipates.
Cesar quirks his head and gives a snorty pug sniff at the dhampir. It is not a smell that lingers over Alucard, but the little dog has no other way of perceiving the familiar aura that now surrounds him. The crewmen and forged creatures turn their blue eyes in his direction for a moment, but in the absence of new orders, return to their tasks.
Hector leans against one of the rails, now that the spell is done.]
That depends. I know the strongest vampires have ways of seeing far beyond their reach. Does that extend to listening in as well?
[So far, the sight of just a ship in the water won't give their enemies too much context, but openly discussing their location could be far more detrimental.]
[There's no reaction from Alucard as the pouch burns, beyond a momentary look of discomfort at the sudden brighteness. Once it's done, Alucard simply breathes out, ignoring the stares. Cesar will get a few good cuddles once Hector's below deck though.
Alucard pauses at the question. He then nods.]
It could. I know most of those involved with my father's work aren't expert spellcasters, but some of their humans could be. It is a risk. One we should avoid.
[The nearest crewman turns to fetch quill pen and parchment at his master's orders. Hector sighs and follows him into the captain's quarters. It's easier to write at his desk than on the deck of a ship with failing light.
He writes out the following message, in Greek:
Resupply at Free Port Carmilla, if you read this, fuck you Verify rumors of the boogeyman Send message to the witch Reassess from there
[He translates the name of Freeport into Greek to try to further obfuscate their plans in case someone is watching, and also has a list of multiple coordinates scrawled on the page. The correct one for their destination, he smudges a drop of blue ink beside.
He sends the message back with the zombie and calls up through his door.]
I need to sleep. Wake me at the first sign of pursuit.
[For the past 24 hours, it feels like all Alucard's done is follow Hector about. To not have to do that is good, and with Hector out of sight, Alucard scoops up Cesar and starts to pet him right behind the ear. It's a form of stress relief, because now that Alucard's slept, his mind is a storm of trying to figure out what to do.
Hector's note doesn't fill him with too much hope. It's the start of a game plan, one that needs much more elaboration. There's no quill to respond with, and Hector cant' see him nod.
All Alucard can do is respond through the door:]
Understood on all accounts.
[The zombie is sent back with the message, so Hector can dispose of it. Alucard demands nothing more. No food or drink, just nothing but himself and the dog and the moon that is starting to rise in the sky.
To Cesar, the dhampir only sighs.]
I don't think there's a single steady course ahead of us.
[Cesar licks Alucard’s nose while he’s high enough to reach his face. To him, this is a wonderful adventure, and the number of masters to site upon him has doubled. All’s well in the dog’s world.
Hector drops the note into one of the oil lamps to burn. He lays down in his bed, but it takes a while for sleep to find him. He’s not used to his ship operating without him, and letting go of the control is hard.
He sleeps, but he’s up before the sun rises to make sure nothing’s caught fire in his absence.
Not hearing any alarms, he ducks into the hold and comes up with breakfast and a flask of ale. He has to be allowed to drink something, and spirits keep easier than fresh water on long journeys.
He has enough that he could share, but he’s no longer gong out of his way to push Alucard to eat.]
[The night is mostly spent balancing the wheel in one hand and Cesar in the other, the little dog barely being placed down unless Alucard absolutely must. The only time must enters the equation is a small change in the winds at 2 in the morning, and it's managed with a quickness and calmness.
He doesn't ask after breakfast when Hector appears on deck. What he does do is place Cesar back down on the ground so that the little dog can greet his person properly, that way Alucard does not appear to be a dog thief.]
There was little to be concerned with, and what small issues did present themselves, they were quick to be resolved. Cesar was also very good company, thank you for letting him stay up.
[He's formal, not only with explanation but with how he holds himself. It's an attempt to respect ship hierarchy, especially since there's been no insistence on it.]
[Hector has to juggle his food so he has a hand to pick up Cesar, but he does it, because he's Cesar's actual master. He flips the dog over in the crook of his elbow and gives his belly scratches the way he likes. Cesar doesn't need any reminders of who loves him best in all the world, but one can never be too safe.]
Yes, he's a good little first mate. The best you'll find on land or sea.
[Seems someone's in less black of a mood, at least. He lets Cesar back down before the pug can start sniffing at his breakfast.]
A little stiff, but I'll loosen up as I work.
[He frowns at Alucard.]
I already know you're an asshole. No need to pretend at being polite with one another now.
[He pulls out his compass and checks their bearings. On track, for what its worth.]
[There's actual gratitude there. Alucard had expected Cesar to be brought inside when Hector went to bed, as there's no doubt that the dog is precious to him. Probably the only thing he likes, if Alucard was to guess.]
The bandages will need to be changed before the sun sets again. They'll become saturated with the ointment if they stay on too long, and I don't want that to create it's own problems.
[It's...it isn't concern exactly, but Alucard is the son of not only Dracula, but of his mother too. He had seen her work as a doctor growing up, and absorbed more than his fair share of the information. Hector's probably right, he's an asshole, but Alucard knows his mother would disapprove of just letting an injury go unchecked.]
We're on the same boat, literally and metaphorically, Hector. And you risked everything for my sake, for some reason. I don't intend to be an asshole and disrespect that. Managing to live with each other is the goal right now, and that means at least trying to be pleasant and aware of hierarchies at play.
[Alucard shakes his head. Why is his bothering?]
If you'd rather I take my leave, then I will do so.
[If Hector had wanted to be truly kind to Alucard, he would have left Cesar with him while Alucard was resting in wolf-form. Letting Cesar stay out at night...that was just practical. Those two obviously enjoyed each other's company, and Hector had needed to sleep. It was nothing that required thanks.]
I'll defer to you on the bandages. I know more about flesh after it's gone necrotic, not before.
[He could manage it on his own, but if he can surrender this one worry to focus his mind on greater ones, he'll do so gladly.]
Look, come and sit and we'll have breakfast, or I'll have breakfast and you can watch. I know we're in this together. Neither of us can afford to part ways right now. But you're not a member of my crew, and I'm not your captain, so there's no need for us to act like it. We're on equal footing, for better or for worse.
[Because Alucard won't let Hector see to his needs, and in terms of a plan, Hector is open to suggestions. Getting caught up in ideas of hierarchies or roles is going to hinder more than aid them.]
It looks like we made good time last night. If the winds stay favorable, we can reach the port before dark. I know a trader who is willing to stock a ship and then forget about it, so long as he's paid properly. That will help us no matter where we go.
[The wolf would have whined and tried to withdraw even further from any interaction. It had all worked out for the better as far as the pug was concerned, and...
...was that a joke?
Alucard isn't sure, but there's a little soft noise that's almost a laugh.]
The goal is to avoid your area of expertise.
[It's as much a joke as Alucard will dare to attempt right now. The tension, it needs to break and break fast, because Alucard knows it'll spell doom just as much as anything else with.]
All right then. [To breakfast. To not dealing with hierarchy. To all of it. There's a certain calmness when Alucard says those words, and then he pauses.] I'm a decent enough cook, for your future reference. [And that's not a brag, that's just true.] I'd also like to transfer full command of your crew back to you, before I eat anything.
[That's just a decent thing to do.]
Mm, I think there are Speakers on that port, yes?
[They'd be the best way to check in about the Belmont armada, so far as Alucard can tell.]
[Hector studies Alucard closely as they sit down. A cook, like a medic, is something he's never bothered with on his ship of undead. With only himself to benefit from it, it had seemed an unnecessary luxury.
He's eaten a lot of jerky, hard tack, and dried fruit. Forget that he just called Alucard an asshole not a minute ago. He is of the angels.]
Do you mean you can make this actually appetizing?
[He gestures at his rations, which he's done nothing to prepare but fishing them out of one of the barrels below deck.]
Yes, then, we'll stick to your expertise and leave mine for if anyone unsavory reaches us.
[Maybe he can learn to put up with Alucard and share his dog if real food is on the line. A way to a man's heart, as the saying goes.
Hector sits on deck with a crate to serve as their table. Said jerky and hard bread, he places in the middle. He uncaps the flask and takes a long sip before adding that to the communal pile as well, in case it gets confiscated. ]
I can break the spell, but we'll have to redo it each night if we end up needing to maintain that same speed. Are you alright with that?
[It's not a hard thing to replicate- ashes, a strand of hair, a force of will, and a few drops of his blood, bound into a bundle. But Hector has to imagine the casting of it feels intrusive.]
I suppose there will be a few. There's Speakers around most every port, these days. I don't know what they're after, but I've seen one or two lurking around our destination.
[Hector's not sure why that would matter. They tend to keep to themselves, and they have no maritime fighting force, as far as Hector knows.]
I can, if appropriately supplied. What does your merchant usually have available?
[Alucard had to learn to cook as a child. His diet was too specialized for him to be without the skill, as Dracula wasn't going to and his mother expected that there would be times in their lives where they would be far from each other. Boat cooking is very different, but it's still a skill to have.
Real food, proper real food made in a house, probably would get at Hector's heart if Alucard had the opportunity. That won't be happening, and so Alucard simply walks over to the makeshift table. It's easy enough to use his nails to crack the hard bread into smaller pieces and to shred the jerky.
Yes, he's shredding the jerky to put it on the bread so it can have a little bit of flavor. Sue him.]
That's fine. The spell works, and I feel safer having to physically hand over the command every sunrise.
[It keeps things above board. Even.]
Mmm. They're one potential route ahead, I believe.
[Hector draws his rapier just far enough out of its sheath at his side to expose the blade. He touches a finger to the sharp edge and gives himself a little nick. He snaps the fingers on his other hand, and the blood flares up in blue flame. The aura superseded over Alucard's fades away.
Hector continues the conversation as if he hadn't just done a minor work of blood magic over breakfast.]
He's always going on about how he could send me with porridge or lentils, if only I'd invest in a real cook-pot. He'll have other ingredients, but he only mentions the basics to me. He knows I am a lost cause.
[Cesar dances around the crate, begging for a treat, so Hector scoops him up and offers him a little slice of jerky. The dog doesn't need to eat, but he enjoys it, and it does not hurt him.]
I wonder if we could disguise our ship as a Seeker vessel. They wear those robes that hide most of themselves.
[Alucard's used to seeing his father's magic at work, and so...yeah. Blood magic over breakfast isn't too big of a deal. The most reaction Alucard makes is a sniff at the blood in the air, and that's quickly ignored.]
I'll write a list before I go to sleep, and we'll go from there. The only request I will insist upon is blood sausage, to meet my dietary needs.
[Blood sausage was the quick fix when other sources weren't available, and Alucard would feel safer with the stuff readily available. There was no snacking on Hector, mostly because he needed to be on the top of his game. Having less blood impacted that.
At least Cesar's cute. There's a soft laugh at the little dance, and how satisfied he looks once it's achieved.]
Absolutely not. The Speakers don't need more violence visited upon them.
[Hector opens his mouth to protest that it would only impact the Seekers if they got caught, but sees Alucard’s expression and shrewdly shuts up.]
Do you think they know something, then? Or know something and will share it with us?
[Otherwise, what’s the point of caring whether they’ll be at Freeport or not?]
You can use my quarters. It’s the only place with a writing desk to make your shopping list, and we’re on opposite schedules anyway. There’s no reason for you to sleep on those rotten bunks below when the actual bed is free.
[It’s a new ship, and these new quarters have no feeling of ‘home’. Hector hasn’t had a ‘home’ in a very long time. He sees no reason to get territorial over a room he only uses to sleep in. It’s not like it’s his lab or anything important.]
I can't say for sure. Speakers are not information brokers, and to treat them as such is folly. I'll have to try, and it is probably wiser that I do so alone. It will have less of a...ganging up on a group aura, and the Speakers have that problem enough.
[Alucard is careful with the response, but he also means it when he says he wants to bring as little heartache to the Speakers as possible. He knows their history and that it is rife with persecution. Bringing Dracula down upon them is cruel.]
There may be wolf fur on your things then.
[It isn't refusing, it isn't fussing, it isn't turning his nose up at it. A big difference from yesterday, and a gentle point.]
[That is so obviously a joke. Hector can't pretend to be offended for more than a second.]
I will leave them to you. The less small talk I have to do, the better, and splitting up will let us cover more ground, so to speak.
[Stocking up the ship is definitely his preference for the two errands.]
That's nothing new. I've had a wolf before. They used to joke that my workshop at the port doubled as a menagerie.
[Except all his pets are gone now, save Cesar. Hector drops a hand and the little dog bumps his head against it, stealing the morsel of bread he was holding.]
Though, if you always sleep in the body of a wolf, it's a wonder you had a human-sized coffin on your ship. Or must you take that form because I haven't a coffin to house you?
[Something close to a smile passes over Alucard's face at the attempt to make a joke. It doesn't stay for very long, but it's the first time he's made anything like a pleased or happy face since all of this began.]
Mmm. We should only be apart for a short window though. [The reason being obvious: you don't split the party. Not in this much danger.]
I'm sure that it did. [Alucard can't see Cesar being Hector's only pet.]
Being a wolf means that dreams are simpler right now. That's all.
[Alucard shreds a little bit more of the jerky, and he holds it low at Cesar's level. If he has to talk about an Emotion, he's doing it with a dog in his lap.]
[The ghost of a smile that flits over Alucard’s face is a hint of what the man might be like when his life isn’t imperiled. Hector’s curious. It’s a secret to work on unveiling while all his other studies are on hold.]
I’ll not let Saint Germain keep me longer than he must and I’ll hasten back to your side before you pine away in my absence.
[The common languages between then seem to be ‘sarcasm’ and ‘dog’, and Hector can live with that.
Cesar abandons Hector for Alucard’s jerky, the little traitor. He’ll take treats and shows of affection from where’re they come. Alucard’s lab puts him in closer proximity to food and to noses to lick, which are his main goals in life.]
That is what the rum was supposed to be for.
[He sighs. Can’t fault a man for using his shapeshifting abilities to his advantage. If Hector could be a wolf, he damn well would.]
The actual Count is in this corner of the world now?
[Alucard raises his eyebrows slightly, intrigued by that thought. He has been asleep for far longer than he thought, if those are the changes that have been made.
But at any rate, Cesar gets a few more bits of jerky, before Alucard gently ushers him back towards Hector. He can share the dog.]
I sill refuse to be fighting this anything but sober. Not against Carmilla, even if her natural effect is to drive a man to drink.
[Alucard's eaten everything he's been given, which is an accomplishment in and of itself.]
I wasn't intending on plaguing you with fur, I promise.
[And that too is said with a certain lightness that also hedges close to a joke. This? This almost feels nice. Normal.]
I'll be back out with the list before I rest for the day.
What are you talking about? He is just some crazy old man who showed up at the port a while back. He dresses himself in the most ridiculous fashion, but he's usually got wares enough to sell.
[The idea that Germain is anyone important is laughable to Hector. He tries much too hard to be mysterious to actually know anything of worth, right?]
I expect a celebratory drink when we put a stake through her heart.
[He mutters, because he has to have something to look forward to if he's going through the foreseeable future sober.
Hector's pleased with breakfast. Alucard ate something, so the nagging worry that the dhampir will collapse or go on a rampage subsides, and they're managing to get along. Who knew he had it in him?]
Alright, rest while you can. I'm going to press hard today to try to reach port before sundown. There's few places not under your father's control that will welcome a ship docking after dark, for obvious reasons.
{Alucard's not going to explain the Count, because he still doesn't entirely understand the Count himself. He knows knows him to be a man of infinite resource, so perhaps being a merchant is not that far out of the realm of possibility.
With that, Alucard rises to his feet.]
We will, I promise. Let me go begin on the list.
[With that, Alucard withdraws entirely. He spends a good 15 minutes writing a list, one that's even annotated (OATS-- 2 lbs, no more, they go rancid quickly due to natural fat content ; BLOOD SASUAGE -- Dietary supplement for myself, I will not need blood if I have this). It's folded and handed to Hetor, and then Alucard simply falls asleep in his wolf form beside Hector's bed.
He doesn't stir until woken, his wolf form just curled up into a tight little ball and trying to be even smaller somehow.]
[Well, the merchant does tend to inquire into Hector's plans each time they meet, though Hector rarely indulges him in answering. Hector chalks it up to eccentricity. What else could it be? immortal occultisttime-traveling meddlersworn enemy of Death himself
Hector takes a cursory look at Alucard's list, snorts, and tucks it into his pocket.
He sails, and when he finally hands the wheel off to a crewman with instructions to dock, he pauses at the door to the captain's quarters.
...he shouldn't pet the wolf...
...he wants to pet the wolf...
...he steps toward the wolf, but Cesar bumps past his ankles to get to him first. That's probably for the best.]
Wake up. We're making land, and we need to be in and out as fast as we can.
[Alucard's just going to find the Count when all of this is over and just. You know. Shoot the shit, as you do.
But it's a good sleep. One that lets Alucard's dreams be much simpler than they would be otherwise, and one that he doesn't wake up from half way through. He stirs only when Hector pushes in. By the time Cesar approaches, he's up and on all four paws, and then after one or two more steps, he's become an Alucard again.
Hector, you can pet the wolf later. He'll allow it.]
Is there still light out?
[Alucard pauses just long enough to straighten his shirt (his coat is long since gone), and even as he asks the question, he's en route to the door.]
[The sky is just starting to take on the golden glow that heralds the sunset. The Speakers are usually the last to retire when the light fades, and the Count keeps whatever hours he pleases, unconcerned with light or darkness. They should have time for their respective errands.]
Cesar will need to stay here. Don't let him follow you.
[He's already waved his bird-devils and the more obviously undead crew below deck. Only his sailors that are relatively human-passing are above to guard see them to shore and guard the ship. Cesar, much as he would love to follow them into the port, is missing too many parts to be safely allowed in public.]
If there are Speakers, they will likely be on the outskirts of the market. I'll head there once I meet with Germain. This port isn't affiliated with any factions, but keep your head down all the same.
[By fast he means vampire speed, making it impossible to be followed. Or he would, if that wasn't going to be overly dramatic. The most Alucard does is pause to try and manipulate his hair, tying some back and roughly re-arranging the part so he can hide some of his face under all that hair.
He murmurs a few "I'll be back"s in Cesar's direction as the two begin the work in earnest.]
Understood.
[He'll ask for a cloak at some other point in time - Hector probably has limited wardrobe anyway.
Once they are both off the boat, Alucard's speed increases, away from Hector and knowing he has to work quickly and quietly. Quiet he can do. Quick...well, that depends on factors out of Alucard's control.
It takes time to find the Speakers, even with Hector's advice on where to look. They're cautious everywhere, even in the Freeport, and he only speaks to one. (There are others hiding, he can tell by scent. Speakers have an air of traveled roads to them, even those who live on the seas and the islands.) There is reluctance until he mentions the contact's surname, Belnades.
"There is one part of the Armada that endures, in a port further north than here. Free and warded against Dracula. Step carefully there."
Alucard accepts what is said. It isn't a great lead, but it's better than naught and he and Hector cannot be choosers. He asks that his own destination be passed on to Belnades, and then he withdraws.
Being on the market outskirts means finding small, covered places to hide after Alucard departs from the speakers. There's a tiny little store room that he finds shelter beside, keenly aware of the chill of the evening air threatening to settle.]
[For his own mission of stealth, Hector is dressed in a plain white shirt with black pants and boots. He unties his red sash from his waist and wraps it around his head the way some sailors do to keep hair and sweat out of their eyes. He keeps his eyes down as he turns corners to get to Saint Germain's storehouse.
The Count is in high spirits, and is suspiciously well prepared to check off the items on Alucard's list.
Ah, blood sausage. Of course I have it. I've never known you to indulge in something so heavy, Hector.
He packs up their supplies into barrels and canvas sacks and sends them to the dock in a cart for Hector's crewman to load into the ship.
Of course, Germain can't resist stopping him at the door before he can make his escape. He tips his ridiculous top hat and smiles that 'I know more than you' grin.
Oh, and Hector...Walk the path that is meant for you without fear... For you are no longer alone...
He winks an eye, and the door closes of its own accord before Hector can demand an explanation.
Growling about mad bastards who dress themselves like troubadours, Hector stalks out of the warehouse distract and into the open market. The sky is darkening, and soon the last of the vendors will hurry back to their homes to bar their doors to the creatures of night.
Hector looks for Alucard in the darkest corners of the market first, because where else would a dhampir choose to hide himself?]
[Alucard's question comes from the shadows he's cloaked himself in, although he refuses to step forward just yet. There's no sense of safety out in the open, not right now, and he has no interest in inviting danger to fall upon himself or Hector.
He knows where they must go, and he has to look at maps. Gauge how many days they will be at sea, and that will decide so much more.]
[Of course Alucard has to reveal himself in the most cloak-and-dagger manner possible. Hector expects no less. Damn vampires.]
Yes, I am ready to depart if you are.
[He does not turn to look for Alucard in the darkness.]
I would like us to be off as soon as possible, but if you don't feel up to another night of sailing, we can leave at dawn.
[He is keeping in mind that Alucard's ship sails itself, and he may not be used to keeping such a schedule of actively piloting a vessel like Hector's. Sailing at night is dangerous, both because that is when vampire ships are active, but also just because of the lack of visibility. They need to do it, but undertaking it without being prepared could be just as disastrous or more than lingering at a port to be discovered.]
Meet me back at the ship and we can talk more freely.
[An understatement. One that sees Alucard remain in the shadows as he begins to walk, focused not on any problems or struggles with the idea of sailing for another night. It isn't a problem for him, not truly. He understands the basics of sailing, and Alucard knows he is the better candidate for night sailing than Hector if only for his eyes alone.
He keeps a swift pace, not looking anywhere but ahead until they are back at their dock. A dock they very much need to leave now. Only when there does Alucard uncloak himself from the shadows.]
[Hector checks the hold when they reach the ship, and their supplies have been properly loaded and stored.
He returns above deck and begins preparing the ship to sail. He can’t be the one to navigate in the darkness, but he can assist until he finally turns in.]
How about your task? Success?
[That will determine if they maintain their original trajectory or plot a new course.]
Mmm. Furthest island north has reports of a single surviving ship from the Belmont armada. The place is hard to get to - I want to check maps either before you go to bed or before I retire in the morning - and it is doubltessly warded against those like myself and my father.
[But it is there. There's a hope yet, should they reach it.]
Would you like me to make dinner while we make a departure?
[Hector's stomach grumbles, but he shakes his head. Too much work to do to stop and eat right now.]
There are maps and charts at the desk in my quarters. You check them while I get us out of the harbor. There's enough light left for me to pilot us out. Getting our course charted is the top priority.
[It's not like he's eaten well, sailing alone as he's done for the past couple of years. He can wait a little longer for Alucard's reportedly adequate cooking skills.]
[Alucard's set to argue that no, food's more important especially since there's little remaining light, but it isn't worth it. He and Hector are managing right now, and keeping the two of them in good terms is important.
So Alucard heads into the captain's quarters, careful to keep his focus on only the maps and charts. It takes a few minutes to find them, but once that happens, Alucard settles himself down on the floor and proceeds to unroll everything that's pertinent around him. The problem, in so far as he can tell, is the approach to the island itself. It's a nightmare of sandbars at any point besides the highest possible tide, and thus they'll have to leave the ship far at sea. That means letting the Belmont know they're approaching and...
...ugh.
Determined to find another route, Alucard keeps with the maps and charts for a bit yet, taking until they're well at sea to find anything that has a chance of working without giving too much away. Once he's at that point, Alucard gets to his feet and steps over the maps, going for the door.
[Hector entrusts the wheel to a crewman and leaves Cesar playing tug-of-war with another. Hector loves the dog dearly, but Cesar has a talent that borderlines on a sixth sense for finding the most important map spread on the table and settling down to nap right on top of it. Worse than any cat Hector's kept, living or un-living.
With ship and pet momentarily secured, Hector slips into the room and pulls shut the door behind him.]
What is it? Do you have a course, or is the Belmont ship more trouble than it's worth?
[He takes a peek down at the maps Alucard has spread over the floor.]
[Alucard returns to his little spot in the semi-circle of maps that he has set up, gesturing for Hector to come and at least stand where he is.]
The place is surrounded by sandbars from every approach save for one in the north east, here. [He taps a map that has the island on it, and it is a very small part indeed.] There's a channel that runs deep even at high tide, likely because there's a river or at least some kind of water flow from the island out to the sea. The issue is both how narrow it is and how to approach, as we don't want to give our approach away.
[Alucard then indicates a map of the waters leading up to the approach.]
There's a natural reef that makes approaching the area trickier, but we may be able to avoid it if the wind is in our favor. Of course, if we're dealing with a Belmont, we have to expect wards, traps, and other such nonsense even if we aren't detected.
What do we hope to get from the Belmont? Is stealth needed? If we want to treat with them, I can send a message by air. They’ll likely shoot it down, but if the letter’s in a flame-proofed bag, it will probably survive.
If we want to take the ship, we need to lure it out into open water. Make him come to us, rather than walking in to that death trap.
[He traces a finger along the treacherous shallows and reefs on the map.]
If it is integral to make our way there in stealth, I could probably forge something that could clear a path, but I’m loath to do that. The reefs are a delicate ecosystem and house some truly fascinating species.
[Hector’s priorities: he will make peace or war with the last of the Belmonts without qualm, but when it comes to destruction of wildlife, he hesitates.]
I...I think we need that first question answered. What do we want from the Belmont, Hector? What is the desired outcome of this situation?
[Alucard's been dealing with the thoughs on and off, of what he wants. What he really needs to do, but he's never given them real words. Never said them out loud.]
Stop my father? Simply escape with our skins? See to Carmilla but no other? And if we seek only escape, then going to the doorstep of a Belmont is death just in another manner.
[There's a moment where he's quiet, running his hand through his hair.]
And if we mean to stop my father, then it means his death.
[So they've finally come to it, then. The Talk. Hector sighs, and takes a seat on the floor, turning up to the ceiling so he doesn't have to look at Alucard.]
We're never going to be safe, if we run. Well, maybe you will be from your father, if Dracula's content to ignore you...but the others won't let either of us be.
[He pauses, not wanting to keep going, but he's really got no choice. Hector...knows what it means to be a patricide. It's a shadow that hangs over you for the rest of your life, and Alucard's will be a long one.]
We could aim to kill the other vampires, but so long as Dracula hungers for revenge, he will simply create more. So we either defeat Dracula, or we run.
...I will run, if that is what you want. He is your father.
We won't be safe if we stay either. That much is certain.
[Alucard knows that Hector will likely resent any sense of responsibility the dhampir feels for making sure that the necromancer's life endured. After all, Hector made this choice independent of Alucard. There is no true reason for Alucard to have that responsibility. All the same though, Alucard feels it and feels it keenly, aware and worried of imperiling the other man alongside himself.]
I've never known him to create another vampire. [Why would he? Another vampire with even a fraction of his powers? Unthinkable.] But no. The truth is clear enough.
[His gaze returns to the map.]
But that will make it easier to approach the Belmont. Offer help in destroying my father, and perhaps there will be a moment to make the case before a stake is driven into my heart.
[Hector didn't sign up for that part though, did he?]
[Hector draws up his knees and wraps his arms around them.]
I want to be allowed to sail freely with my dog, and study the living and unliving things of the world, and create new ones. What I want, I will never be permitted, whether Dracula lives or dies.
[His shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. Maybe once, he'd thought it possible, when Dracula told him he would seize control of the seas and regulate them. He knows now that it is folly.]
But, if I fight, and somehow don't die, maybe we'll kill all the vampires and I'll be able to go and see those turtles you spoke of.
[He looks up finally at Alucard.]
Do you think Belmonts can read, or are they the type of brutes you have to fight before they'll listen? All I know of them, I've heard from their mortal enemies, so it's likely all wildly inaccurate.
A quiet life on the ocean. Or just one island and it's infinite biodiversity.
[His voice is barely a whisper. But in there, there's some approval. That sounds nice.
Alucard closes his eyes, considering what the best step forward is.]
We would be best served by having a neutral party. I...the Speakers might be the best candidates, especially if I can take one of the life boats here in under a white flag. You wouldn't have to take additional risks beyond simply sitting and waiting for either me to return, or to be waved off by some other means.
If you wanted to get yourself killed, you should have said so back in the prison and saved me the trouble of jailbreaking you. Aren’t the Speakers pacifists? So they won’t be able to help you if the Belmonts attack first and ask questions never.
[He sets his jaw stubbornly.]
Between the two of us, we can hopefully keep whatever remnants of the Belmonts remain occupied until you or your Speakers can explain yourselves.
You made that decision long before I agreed or refused. [At least, that's Alucard's suspicion. He doesn't want to dwell on it though, as lingering on such a thought means thinking yet again about what Hector has sacrificed to be at this point.]
But yes, they are pacificts. I have one I'd ask, but they're a number of islands away.
[Sypha never really clarified her gender.]
In an ideal situation, it'd be only myself and the Speaker on a boat. Once at the island, I'd stay put while they made contact, and it would go from there. I feel a dhampir is already enough of a potential panic button for a Belmont. No need to add a necromancer in.
So I am to ferry you from island to island, then wait behind because my mere existence is so odious as to offend the Belmonts.
[Hector is used to a necromancer’s welcome (or more accurately, the decided lack thereof) where he goes, so he’s not sure why this instance irks him so. Maybe he thought it could be different with Alucard.
Maybe he is overtired and ill-fed.
He pushes himself up.]
Plot your course to the Speaker’s isle and make yourself ready to sail. I’m going below to eat before I transfer the crew to your control.
[Alucard’s golden-eyed gaze is intense, and Hector squirms under the scrutiny.]
You don’t have to make it sound like I’m some lovestruck maiden you’re leaving at shore.
[He growls, struggling to give voice to his thoughts. He has never had a friend before, at least not a humanoid one. Alucard is not that, but it feels like he could become it, with time.]
You’ve sailed on my ship. You’ve eaten my food. You've bandaged my wounds. You’ve spoiled my dog. You could have killed me when first we met, but you did not, because in spite of your withdrawal, you are good.
[These are facts that Hector can lay before Alucard as points of evidence to his argument.]
Considering all of that, were you in my place, would you be content to leave such a man to venture into an enemy’s stronghold without backup?
I'm not trying to-- [Alucard actually looks embarrassed by that first suggestion, but then he stops, realizing that self defense here is pointless. He's being overly cautious. Refusing to commit to the thing that must be done, and refusing to acknowledge that Hector has well made his choice. His head doesn't drop in shame or anything of the sort, but there is a quiet nod.]
You're right. In all respects. I will try to stop the compulsion to keep offering escape hatches. If you wanted one, you'd find one.
[Alucard brings himself upright, slowly and carefully. He doesn't wish to step on the maps.]
And no, I would not. Tell me, do you have some kind of bird that we can send as an emissary to the Speakers, rather than having to sail all the way there only to be told to go away?
[If Hector had the skill for it, he would embroider it on a damned pillow, to be hurled at Alucard’s head whenever he got a brooding, self-sacrificial notion into his head.]
That depends. Are the Speakers likely to take fright if they see a little exposed bone? I have a skeletal bird that could make a flight over the open waters right now. If it needs to pass for a living bird, I’ll need time for cosmetic adjustments.
[Hector steps around the maps to the door and opens it. He gives a whistle and extends an arm like a falconer.
A bird, white bones mixed with white feathers, mostly the shape and size on an albatross, lands on his forearm. It’s mostly unadulterated, except for talons where normally there would be webbed feet. The span of its wings, when outstretched, are wider than Hector stands tall.
He turns with the bird and presents it to Alucard to study.]
She’s capable of a long journey, but if you think she’s too large or conspicuous, I can catch a gull in the morning and use that instead.
[Hector usually tries to avoid killing animals in order to forge them, but if needs must...]
[Alucard follows Hector to the door, unsure of what kind of bird to expect. He knows better than to think it'll be small or cuddly like Cesar is, and the suspicion is right. The bird is massive. Opposite of subtle.
But it's an ocean bird, and unless one sees it up close, it isn't going to attract any attention. Alucard leans in, taking careful not of where there are more obvious bones, and he nods.]
If she's willing, then that's all that matters. Her size means I can write a slightly more detailed message.
[That actually gets a thin smile.]
I'll do that, then make something to eat. For now, we just need to keep north.
Don't get too verbose. The light will not hold out for long, and I shall need you back at the helm.
[Hector raises his arm in a sudden jerk and the bird stretches her wings and takes flight, gliding up to settle on one of the ship's masts. There is a faint blue glow to her eyes, but otherwise, from a distance, the patches of missing feathers aren't too noticeable.
Hector leaves Alucard in the captain's quarters. He should know where to find everything he needs for his letter to the Speaker. He heads back out to the wheel to keep them on course.]
[He doesn't manage to take terribly long with the note. It's simply written, although Alucard's still sure he has left things out. Satisfied with the letter, he tries to woo the bird over so he can attach the letter.
Okay, it's him floating up to the bird on the ship mast, but same thing in the end. Alucard then lands and moves below deck to the galley.
It isn't much. One pot, a little bit of food, and a very small amount of fresh water. Alucard reaches for some of the dried meat first, adds it to the fresh water, and after half an hour, he has an acceptable soup whose broth could be better, but has little salted meat chunks, a little bit of rice, and potatoes which isn't bad.
Oatmeal will be for the morning, but for now, soup.
He returns on deck with two bowls of the soup, and offers one to Hector.]
[The soup is much better than Hector could have managed, and he accepts the bowl with barely-hidden reverence.]
...thanks.
[He hands the wheel off to a crewman and goes to sit with his bowl. He has to spoon out a tidbit of meat for Cesar before he can sample it in peace.]
The bird will need direction on where to go. If you show me on the maps, I can do it, or you can instruct her once you take control. I understand if you want to keep the Speakers' secrets.
[He pulls another one of the little spelled pouches from his pocket and offers it to Alucard. Another night of Alucard in control of the ship and crew.]
[Alucard smiles. Actually smiles. It's a thin and fleeting thing, but it is there all the same.]
You're welcome.
[Alucard follows after Hector, sitting and enjoying the luxury of eating something that he has made. It comes with a soft hum of consideration for Hector's words.]
I'll instruct her, if you don't mind. A Speaker's trust is something I do not wish to even entertain the notion of abuse.
[So he holds out his hand automatically, soup bowl holding the spoon for just a moment.]
[Huh. So, vampires can smile in a way that isn't cruel or predatory. Who knew? It is likely a rare occurrence, and Hector can appreciate it in the way he does the sighting of a reclusive bird or a well-camouflaged wild creature.]
You may earn your keep after all.
[He says over the steaming bowl, which is tasty in spite of its simplicity. It's a shame Hector hasn't translated his love of creation into the culinary realm, with such a difference a good hot meal can make after a day spent sailing.
He puts his bowl aside, giving Cesar a firm glance to keep him from nosing into it, and activates the spell. Once again, Alucard takes on the aura of necromatic power.]
So, I heard it said that Speakers don't write. They can read, right? Do you think you'll get a reply?
[It's dry, but he's trying to be funny. What a concept. Alucard hasn't even known himself to try and joke since being awake.
He blinks once after the spell has taken hold, aware of how the energy around him has changed and gently settling against it.]
They don't write, by and large, but they can read. They need it to absorb all number of stories, although they prefer to hear things out loud, since they are an oral culture. This particular speaker? I fully expect a response.
[Hector grins. The past few days have been tense. The last few weeks, actually, since Alucard gave voice to Hector’s previously silenced doubts.
It feels good to joke and needle at someone living. They can’t relax fully, but they can at least ease back a little.]
This will be her first time acting as a carrier pidgeon...carrion pidgeon, maybe... so be sure that she knows to wait for a response.
[Hector’s pets are imbued with intelligence beyond the animals’ typical capacity so that they can follow their master’s instructions, but they can’t make leaps of logic the way a human mind can.]
You must have made quite an impression on this Speaker if you’re so certain they will break with tradition for you.
I'll make sure that it's clear. If not, I suspect that the Speaker will find some way to get back in touch.
[Alucard smiles thinly, because if there was one thing Sypha made clear about herself it was that she was a Speaker of infinite resources. There's a moment after Hector's statement about impressions and...
...yeah, there's a tinge of red in his cheeks. Shut up.]
This particular one is...spirited. And the impression was very mutual.
[Hector raises an eyebrow, honing in on Alucard's discomfort.]
So that's why you don't mind a flashy messenger. You're hoping to make a more lasting impression.
[Hector could make a ribald comment about 'brushing up on oral tradition' or the value the speakers must put on a cunning linguist, but their alliance is still tender and new. He'll save it for later.]
Have I encroached on any plans, insisting that I come along to the Belmont's Island of Death?
[Lover-boy might have had an ulterior motive in trying to send Hector away 'for his safety'.]
Don't be ridiculous. This is simply banking on natural talent and skill, and a sense of trust. Or at least that if I can feel comfortable after a little bit of discussion, the same effect might--
[Oh God he's just digging a hole in deeper and deeper, ins't he? Alucard just. Stuffs soup in his mouth and prays that Hector will drop this.]
[Hector's brow just climbs higher and higher. Oh, do go on, Alucard. You'll dig yourself to previously unexplored depths.]
Does your Speaker have a name?
[Otherwise, Hector is going to refer to them exclusively as 'The Future Mr./Mrs. Ţepeş'.
He takes a spoonful of soup to keep from chuckling over how terrible Alucard is at all of this. Weren't vampires supposed to be suave? Apparently the half Alucard got from his father wasn't the smooth half.]
The floating really needs a better name overall, doens't it?
[Floating does not sound badass or impressive in the least, after all. And that thought is the only reason Hector isn't getting stabbed. The vampire is very distracted with his own thoughts.]
Let me send off this messenger, and then I shall be.
You have all night to think of a name, otherwise it is 'the floaty thing' officially.
[Hector could still call the albatross down, but he leaves that for Alucard. The more he practices controlling Hector's undead creatures, the better equipped he will be to command them in an emergency.]
Give her the instructions with landmarks. East and west mean nothing to wild creatures. It is 'towards the rising sun' or against it.
[These might be things that Alucard understands, what with his wolf form, but Hector doesn't want to take a chance. Not when this budding romance their survival is on the line.
Once Alucard sends the bird off, he'll see himself to bed.]
[It is the least of every single problem they're up against. All the more reason to focus on it - pleasant distractions are few and far between at the moment, and he'll hang on to all he has.]
Landmarks I can do. Far easier to explain that anyway than calculate mileage without a map in front of me.
[After a few attempts to call the albatross down (there is one that starts with excuse me, bird? But once he's gotten the bird down and attached the message, Alucard is nothing if not exacting. He doesn't just describe the island, he describes Sypha in exacting detail, much of it more clinical than smitten (although it does creep in.) It ends with a polite enough thank you before the bird is off, and...well. There they are.
[Hector lets out an amused snort, but returns Alucard's nod once the bird is sent on her way.
He'll throw the man a bone, he supposes.]
'Levitation' doesn't sound half-bad. I'd start from there and build up a suitably impressive name.
[He whistles for Cesar, who can subsist without sleep, but really shouldn't. He's a first-class first mate, but Alucard will have to do without him for at least part of the night.
Although the crew knows to come and open the door to let him out of Hector's room if he scratches by the door long enough, so Alucard will likely have his companion back before the night is done.]
[And then that's it. Hector withdraws, and the night passes by quietly. There are no events, nothing untowards, nothing working against them. Even the wind remains in their favor, and Alucard would be alarmed if he didn't simply want to luxuriate against the thought of something going right.
Morning comes. Alucard hands control of the ship back over to Hector first, and there's oatmeal made (with a little dried fruit in it) to ensure that Hector has fuel for the day and Alucard can rest on a full stomach. It is wonderful, made even moreso for the albatross' return just as Alucard is ready to retire.
The thing lands beside Hector, but it lets Alucard take the message. He skims, then nods.]
[While Alucard reads the missive the bird carried to them, Hector reaches out and gives the albatross a good scratch on her head feathers. Once Alucard is safely away and abed, he'll coo over her, telling her she's a pretty bird, and what a good job she's done. For now, he's pretending like he has dignity.]
That was quick. Guess the impression was mutual.
[The dhampir is keeping him well-fed, so Hector leaves the teasing at that. He'd hate to have to go back to dried goods and hard tack.]
Do we need to go fetch them, or will they meet us at Death Island?
[It has a real name, but the nickname serves the dual purposes of being both overly dramatic and also harder for any spies to pinpoint, should they be listening in.]
[This is getting embarrassing very quickly. But more importantly, he regards the albatross with respect, but a little uncertainty that she may be less inclined to be polite at him. She is, after all, under Hector's control again and she may not appreciate anyone else's touch.]
Thank you, miss.
[He then lets out a soft noise, opening the letter again and re-reading it.]
They'll meet us there. They're two, maybe three days out, and I believe that suits our schedule just fine. Death Island isn't going anywhere.
Alright. I'll maintain our current bearings. You're free to go get your beauty rest.
[The sun is rising, so Hector gets to work, leaving Alucard to swoon over his letter. Two or three days is not much time to prepare for taking on a Belmont hideout, and for a necromancer, preparation is key.
He makes sure they are on the right course, then brings up some of his tools and the components he's scrounged up so that he can supervise the crewmen while he works. He's working with what has tangled with his crew's nets, so that means mainly aquatic forges. Still, any reinforcement is good, and he feels better knowing there is something patrolling beneath the waves in case attack comes at them from below.
The day passes mostly without incident. At one point, Hector spots a ship on the horizon. Black sails, but from the wrong direction to have been following from the Caribbean. A vessel piloted by human pirates serving Dracula's court, not one controlled by vampires, if they are sailing during the daylight hours. It is a meeting of pure happenstance; the other ship is likely heading back to port after pillaging further north.
Hector sends one of his newly-assembled mer-creatures to stealthily disable the ship's rudder and leave them stranded. The flags his ship flies are a nondescript white, and the ship has no markings to declare it for or against any faction. Hector redirects their path to get out of their line of sight as quickly as possible. Attacking and sinking it will draw much too much attention, when they could more safely and easily preserve the illusion of being a trading vessel spooked into fleeing by the sight of an unknown ship in their path.
Hector doesn't call Alucard during the encounter. Best for him to stay out of sight, just in case. When the dhampir awakens, Hector will give him a briefing.]
[And so Alucard does retreat. He sleeps as a man for once, content with having something mattress-like under him and aware that in his sleeping form he well, sleeps like the dead. It's unnerving, and another reason he has mostly rested as a wolf. Sure, Hector is probably used to other vampires resting like this, but that doesn't mean Alucard can't extend a basic politeness.
His rest is peaceful, in that it ever can be. Alucard lets the deepest part of him that can sleep take over, and that means no dreams. No tossing and turning about. Nothing of the sort, and in that is a relief.
It is the internal clock that knows sunset that causes the dhampir to stir. That realization comes with a soft groan as he forces himself upright, shuffling towards the door of the cabin and opening it.]
[Hector is watching the horizon when Alucard emerges.]
No need. We can eat dried food tonight. There was a ship earlier. I took care of it, and I doubt they took notice of us, but we should be vigilant, in case.
[He gives Alucard a run-down of the day's events.]
I can stay up to help keep watch. One sleepless night won't hurt me.
[He'd prefer to find a safe harbor and hide away for a few days to be sure no alarm was raised, but they've set Alucard's Speaker on course for Death Island already, so they can't afford to delay.]
[Alucard starts out with a thin, small frown on his face. As Hector talks, explains what it is that happened, the frown deepens. Takes over his face, and by the end, it looks like his entire face has soured.]
That was a clever use of forged creatures.
[He murmurs it, alarmed and unhappy but capable of knowing that Hector's choices were incredibly smart.]
But no. I'd rather you sleep and have to be awakened if something happens. Now is not the time to contemplate a sleepless night.
[Hector scrubs his hands along his face. Yes, he’s soured Alucard’s mood, but neither of them can afford to forget- the ocean is not safe, and it won’t be so long as vampirates roam the waves.]
They are capable of more than just killing. So few in the court realize that. They use them like bullets, fired at the enemy with no thought of retrieval.
[Hector hates it, though it does give them the advantage of being underestimated. Only a very few, very dangerous vampires possess the creativity to see beyond the forged creatures’ capacity for killing.
He passes over the evening’s charm to hand over control to the dhampir.]
Wake me if you see anything. Even if it seems like nothing. I can send one of my creatures out to investigate.
[He hesitates over retiring. As well as they have worked together these past few days, Hector is still used to being the one in charge of his ship. He knows he can trust Alucard, but he doesn’t know how to force himself to feel like he can trust him.]
Vampires have a skewed sense of time and mortality. It's...not a defense of their actions, believe me, but that is the reason they are so cheerfully cavelier about it.
[It is such an advantage though. Alucard knows that much as he takes the evening's charm.]
I shall do so. Try and sleep. I won't say to rest easy - it is not possible in these times.
[Alucard looks to Cesar, hoping the pup will follow after Hector for the night. If anyone needs comfort at the moment, it's the forge master.
Night settles. Night remains, a half moon lighting the waves. But there's--
--to the south west of them. Alucard catches sight of the flag first, a deep blood red with no embellishments. It's an ally of his father's, but they've made no notice of the other ship. Yet.
He has one of Hector's forged creatures wake him instead. Alucard remains rooted to the spot, spyglass in hand.]
[Cesar does follow Hector into the bedroom. Dogs have a sense for when they're needed. Hector climbs into bed, for once not having to brush wolf-fur off of the blanket first. He rubs Cesar's ears and squishes his paw pads until he finally falls asleep.
The crewman's knock wakes Cesar, who headbutts Hector back into consciousness. Hector quickly tugs on his boots and rushes out.
He doesn't try to take the spyglass from Alucard, not with the light being what it is. Alucard's eyes can see the details they need, and Hector's simply won't.]
[Hector looks through the glass, and sees the vague outline of a ship in the darkness. There's movement on the deck, though he can't make out numbers or identities from it.]
We could destroy it, but that would take resources, and it could draw attention to our location.
[At this point in their plan, the need for stealth seems to trump speed.]
But then again, even if we go around, there's no guarantee they won't spot us and follow.
[He gives the spyglass back to Alucard.]
If you think your Speaker will wait for us, we'll take the detour. I can pull the same trick that I did this morning to delay any pursuit, and if they still try to follow, or show any sign of raising an alarm, we destroy them.
[Alucard holds his hand out for the glass again. He caught movement, the identity part is still possible. Just with a few more moments to stare.]
I don't know if they'll wait. It feels likely, but I don't want to risk it. I also worry that they may look here, see our crew, and know who they serve.
[Hector is probably just as wanted as Alucard is now.]
My gut says to see if the same trick will work twice.
[Hector lets out a whispered string of curses. This is Not Ideal.
He can still command his crew, even with the charm in effect, though they will get confused if he and Alucard give conflicting orders. With a command of will, one of the mer-creatures he forged jump out of the water spinning, because Castlevania and lands on the deck.
Hector places a hand on its shoulder, cobbled together from shark and human parts, and murmurs the instructions for it. It drops back off of the side of the ship and disappears beneath the water. There is no further sign of it.]
Don't start running until the creature is done. He has a measure of intelligence, but it will be harder for him to sabotage the ship if they start maneuvering to follow us. He's quick; we won't lose much time.
[Unless this is one of the few ships with creatures of their own guarding their vessels from below, in which case, fuck.]
[Alucard doesn't jump at the mercreature. Not externally anyway - he's a little concerned when he sees it on the inside, and there's a quiet thank you to some power that Hector is on his side. The thing's a right terror, and no wonder Hector has the reputation he has. It's easy to forget, what with Cesar and the fact they've been getting along perfectly well, but Hector's command of life and death, leg and limb, that's a power even vampires ought to fear.
He watches it go.]
I understand. If we're followed, can you take command of the ship if I have to hide my face?
[Hector looks out over the dark, churning waters. The moonlight is plenty for the vampires, but for him...]
If I must. I can't see well enough to navigate well, but I could keep us going in the right direction. We're not near enough to land to run the risk of running aground.
[That's something, at least. The ship is safer in Alucard's hands at the moment, but Hector isn't helpless.]
You do know that if we're followed and made, I am going to destroy that ship. They cannot be allowed to escape if they will carry back word of our location to the Court.
[He still has one large, tentacled ace in the hole, if he needs to call on her.]
I understand. [Alucard inclines his head, just for a moment.]
It'll draw attention to us, but only after a few days of the vessel being understood as missing. It's hardly ideal, but it's so much safer than them returning word to my father that we live.
[Alucard shudders a little. This is scary. He can't lie about that simple fact. Nor can he be happy about taking lives.]
I'd offer to navigate as a wolf, but I'm still too obvious in that form. Perhaps if my fur was darker, it'd be plausible but--
[In spite of the severity of the situation, Hector takes the time to turn to Alucard and give him a flat look.]
Navigating as a wolf? How would that even work?
[Bark once for left, twice for right? That would be goddamn ridiculous.]
Get us on course, then get below deck. I'll take care of it.
[The merman does his work, and as far as Hector can tell, no alarm is raised. The one signals the others still beneath the waves, relaying his victory.]
It was only a passing thought. North, south, east, and west, could have specific noises but--
[It's not going to work, that's the point. Alucard shakes his head, and he takes Hector's request as a command. There are a few orders given to the nearest crew in order to relay it to the others. It's a way to avoid shouting, and soon there's wind in the sails and the course is all but set.]
We're good to go, barring chaos. I'll be right at the stairs, listening.
[Alucard does as he says he will, disappearing down the steps below deck and then staying there. Every part of him is tense, like a finely tuned string. Silence wears on. None of it makes him feel more comfortable.]
[In spite of his grumbling, Hector takes the helm and they are off on the new path. One of his undead crewman fetches a cap for him to wear. His hair isn't as remarkable or eerily perfect as Alucard's, but it is still an oddity. Covering it is better.
Cesar, he sends to wait with Alucard at the stairs. The trip is going to be an anxious one, and at least one of them can benefit from the emotional support pug's presence.
There's wind enough to move them along, though Hector wishes it was a stronger breeze to get them there faster. Lights appear on the deck of the pirate ship in the distance, likely from the realization of their loss of steering power and the investigation into the cause.
Hopefully it is enough to distract them from the ship in the distance in the dark, but unease gnaws at Hector's gut. They discovered it so quickly. Happenstance, a mere adjustment of their path, or had they been preparing to turn and make for Hector's ship?
Hector keeps the lights low on his ship, putting his faith in his crew, his knowledge of the ship, and the course Alucard had set them on. Sailing nearly blind, he eventually loses sight of the pirate vessel.]
Come out, but stay low. I need you to check and make sure they're out of sight.
[He keeps his voice low as he calls to Alucard; vampiric ears don't need much, especially when they are actively listening up for the call.]
[He says it as a snide comment, but Alucard is genuinely surprised. He's a fluffy dog, and Hector is Hector. To not even ask is...well. Weird and wrong.
Cesar's company is appreciated, and the emotional support pug gets pet for all his troubles. He's a good boy. Best, even, worthy of all the attention he recieves. It also allows Alucard to do something besides just standing and waiting, which is the real mercy all things considered.
He's not sure how much time has passed when Hector calls for him. Alucard's careful to crouch once he gets up the stairs. His stomach may as well be to the ground when he gets to the side of the ship, and he places his forearm over his head to obscure his hair when his eyes peak over the railing.]
Just barely, and it looks like they may be changing direction. Hang on.
What? You’re still you in there. It’s not like.... I couldn’t....would you say yes?
[This is The Worst situation and he hates it, and he would sure as Hell pet the big dog if it was an option. But he can’t go around asking to pet Alucard.
He’s regained some composure at least by the time Alucard returns to scout.]
Damn, they fixed it that quickly? They’re much more competent than the last ship.
[The same trick won’t work on them a second time. Fuck.]
Look for movement in the skies. They could have creatures to send out. I’ve got a watch set below the surface.
[Hector’s foot taps nervously on the deck. They’ve been made, that’s all he can think.]
Ok, plan. We can’t let them send out any messages. If it’s just one creature up there, I can send a bird-devil after it to try to stop it. If it can just bear it down into the water, the mercreatures can take care of the rest.
[Both of his flying creatures- albatross and skeletal bird devil- will stand out in the darkness, though. On his own ship, at full capacity, Hector would have creatures suited to stealth assassins in the night. On this hastily-assembled replacement ship, he just doesn’t have what he needs.]
They’re going to take notice if I do it. I could sink them, but it will be costly. My kraken isn’t finished or whole yet. She’s fragile, and I don’t know what they have to combat her.
[He looks to Alucard. He is co-captain, and if they’re going to likely die horribly, he should be afforded the courtesy of a say in the matter.]
[Hector lets out an impatient huff of breath. Waiting while decisive action is needed...it's not easy. But he can't hope to see what Alucard can spot, so he sucks it up.]
Alright, but we can't afford to hold for long. Hurry.
[He stays by the wheel, fingers drumming on the spokes, trying to work off his nervous energy. He hasn't slept enough and he won't be resting anytime soon.]
[Fuuuuuuck. Hector wants to punch something. He forces himself to slow down his breathing and think.]
Isaac has no better eyesight than mine...and he won't be sailing with any other vampires. His creatures will need to get close to see us.
[The downside is, unlike all of the other vampire crews, who had a mixture of Hector and Isaac's forged creatures, Isaac will have a ship full of creatures fully loyal to him. Hector has no chance of being able to command any of them.]
I can send the creatures I have out in different directions, create movement to draw Isaac's searchers. We need to destroy anything that comes our way, but it would at least divide their numbers.
[It feels like trying to keep a sieve filled with sand, but it's all he can think to do.]
[There's a quiet urgency to Alucard's voice. It isn't a good idea, but it is an option all the same.]
Create movement. Scatter. And then we're scattered too, and harder to track because it's a smaller vessel. Or I can try and become mist to cover an escape. I don't know how far I can spread myself in that form.
We'll absolutely miss our deadline if we do, and we'll be less prepared to defend ourselves if anyone does find us. It's a gamble.
[He hasn't had this ship long enough to grow attached, but it's still a strategic advantage that they'd be abandoning. If they can reach their Seeker ally, Sypha might show them pity and deliver them to a port- if they survive Death Island and the Belmonts.]
The mist is a no-go. You don't know the limits of it, and what happens if I breath some of you in? Start loading supplies into the lifeboat.
[They are still two days out from their destination, so if they do go with this plan, it'll be a race to get to the Belmont stronghold before they are found again.]
[It's a gamble. Hector's right, and they can't ask the mer-creatures to act as a ferry for them either. They'll tire, and then where shall they be?
Alucard rubs at the bridge of his nose, weighing stupid idea after stupid idea. Fighting Isaac? Extremely stupid. Maybe if it was a more even match with no forged creatures around. But Isaac has a legion to defend himself, and Alucard knows he can be done in by sheer numbers now.
It's bad, abandoning the ship. But there's a thought.]
I know your large friend below is still fragile, but is there a way she could grasp the ship and make it appear to sink without doing it harm or rendering it truly unusable?
I'm so sorry, my inbox apparently ate this notification
Usually, she would rend a ship asunder as she drags it down, but perhaps if we made some holes to let the water in, she could carry the ship the rest of the way down...
[He doesn't know this vessel as intimately as the one Carmilla stole from him, but every captain has a basic idea of where a ship can and can't take on water and stay afloat. They could open her up in places it wouldn't be too hard to repair.]
We couldn't have her do it within Isaac's sight. He'd never believe that she'd attack my ship. But if we worked quickly, before he gets to us... if we go down at the right angle, there would be air pockets in the hull enough to sustain us for an hour or more.... My kraken has the strength to pull us down, but it's a gamble whether she'll be able to hold us down and bring us back up when Isaac has gone past. We may lose the ship anyways.
[But if they could sink their ship and hide beneath the waves, and send a few of Hector's crew piloting one of the life boats, they might elude Isaac's notice.]
If one or two of your creations can make the holes and have them be precise for her, then I think this is our best way forward. If the holes are below water, it may be that she doesn't have to surface at all. She can just pull it down with even tentacles remaining out of sight.
[It's a big if. The whole thing is a massive if, and Alucard doesn't like any of the options available to them.
They don't have time to think. A horrible lump rises up his throat.]
Make a call. If we're to be adrift on a life boat, I will contact the Speakers with our rough coordinates so they may pick us up en route to the Belmont. Or...whatever the plan is.
[It's a heavy choice, to sacrifice the ship and hope to evade discovery, or to risk everything to try to save everything. He cards a hand through his hair, and lets out a deep breath.]
Fuck it, we're probably going to die anyway. I might as well go knowing that that bastard Isaac is fucking bewildered wondering where we disappeared to. I hope you're not claustrophobic.
[The crew begins securing everything on deck, save for the decoy lifeboat.]
Come with me. I'll show you where to make the holes, and you can put that freakish strength to good use.
[It's the path that, if a miracle happens and everything goes to plan, sacrifices the least. One life boat, one crewman wearing a borrowed sash and Hector's captain's hat, a mer-creature to pull the boat, and a bundle of blankets that, in the darkness, could theoretically conceal a wolf. The sight wouldn't fool Isaac, but it might fool the monstrous eyes that carry their report back to him.]
[It's not helpful to seek refuge in being a dick. Alucard knows it, but he needs something normal to help power through this. Alucard lets out a low, stressed breath, but--]
Hector. I need to write and send the note to the Speakers first. Then holes.
[Alucard doesn't know where the albatross is. He can't call her right now, the movement will be too suspicious. But the note still has to be written and dispatched.]
It isn't a love letter, it's a pick us up in the area letter!
[It's covering their own asses! Alucard speeds himself inside the captain's quarters to quickly dash off a note, and then he runs out to find the albatross. It occurs to him in the search that yes, technically, he has control of the ship still. It is night, and he hasn't given Hector full control yet.
So the bird is summoned and given a destination, and that is all. Satisfied, Alucard takes his wolf form, if only because four legs make it easier to sneak about on deck.
It is the wolf that nudge's Hector's leg. He's ready for the holes.]
[Hector has scooped up Cesar and made his way down to the hold to inspect the walls. When the wolf brushes up against him, he resists the urge to pet and instead traces his fingers over the wood.]
We need to work quickly and then get ready to go under. The crew is securing themselves; don't give them any orders in conflict with that.
[Hector wraps one arm through a rope hanging from the rafters, and closes his eyes to focus on extending his power to the kraken beneath them. Cesar whimpers from the crook of Hector's other arm, sensing his master's anxiety.]
[The wolf nods, becoming Alucard once again. He gives Hector the space needed, and instead he begins to trace his hands over the wooden sides of the boat. He uses his nails to mark the probable best places for holes, for vampire nails? Multi-purpose tools.
Cesar's whimpers are distressing to hear. Alucard tries his level best to ignore them, but it is a struggle.]
Ignore him. We need to start flooding the ship. When you make the holes, do them quickly, then get back over here. We need to stay close.
[The ship shakes as kraken tentacles begin to entwine around the exterior.]
All of my focus is going to be on directing her so we don't shift and lose our air pocket. You're going to have to check in with the mers when you think Isaac has passed over us.
[The boat is going to be like a dark, watery tomb once they go under. Hector hates this plan already.]
[To all of it. To ignoring Cesar, as hard and heartbreaking as it is. To making the holes. To sticking close to Hector after, and to communicating with the mer creatures to ensure that Isaac has left them be.
Alucard uses his impossibly long nails to etch the shapes of the holes deep in the wood. Three on each side, the size large but not too big that the whole ship will go down in one terrifying swoop, possibly killing the airpocket they're relying upon to save their lives. Once they're all done, well.
Vampire strength means punching them out in quick succession, and he does that. A little half-human hole punch.
Then the water comes. The flow of it is steady, and Alucard returns to Hector's side, clinging close. So, so close.]
[The water rushes in, cold and churning. Hector guides the kraken with his power, directing her to shift the ship so it stays at the right angle of entry. The air pocket needs to be large enough to sustain them while they are submerged, but no so large that the buoyant force keeps the ship afloat.
It is a delicate process of minute course corrections with a very blunt instrument. There is a reason forgemasters typically cap out at a certain size of creatures, and why they usually summon a soul for the creature, rather than driving its movements more directly like this. It is exhausting. Hector is going to want to sleep for a week when this is done.
The water level reaches ankles, knees, waists. With the lurching and the splashing of waves, the candles lighting the room go out. It's complete darkness, save for the faint blue light of Hector's necromancy, and Cesar's single glowing eye.
It barely registers when Alucard draws near him, though Cesar snuffles and wiggles closer to him for the reassurance Hector can't provide at the moment.
After a few tense minutes of dragging downward, the ship settles into a more rhythmic rocking. Now, they wait, and hope their air lasts as long as they need it to.]
[Alucard manages to be calm. Having to pet and reassure Cesar is one of the reasons for it, as it's very, very hard to be anxious when petting a tiny dog whose body is made out of adoration (and okay, mostly necromancy). The fact that he can see in the darkness helps as well, for while the candles go out, he can make sense of where they are.
Well, barely. This is a different kind of pitch black than he is used to, and a part of it is being so deep inside of something that it's disorienting. So he keeps petting Cesar.
At some point, he reaches out to the mer-creatures. Asks them for a status report, and apparently Isaac's ship has come closer, not further away. The sinking is an alarming thing, and Alucard breathes out a soft, sharp hiss.]
[Hector shivers. The water isn’t as cold as it would be further north or closer to the winter months, but he’s bleeding energy into his creation.
He opens his eyes, though he can barely see anything anyways.]
I’m going to have to release control. He must sense my power. With luck, he’ll think this was a decoy to lure him to this spot while we escaped.
[He gives the kraken her instructions, to keep holding them as she is now, and then lets go of the connection. Squid are intelligent creatures, and he hopes to whatever gods above or below that the giant versions are as well. He needs her to be able to remember him and continue to serve his will when he is no longer linked to her.]
We wait. If the air grows thin, there may be other pockets in the hold or in my quarters.
If we have to move, then grab onto me in some capacity. I can navigate better than you in these conditions.
[He doesn't want to have to move.]
My coat in one hand. Cesar in the other.
[Everything is balanced on a razor thin edge. Alucard can feel the kraken's movements, for she's so large that it's impossible not to, and...if they die like this, at least it was an interesting way to go out.
Alucard reaches out to the mer-creatures again. And again. And again. For an awful twenty minutes, it's the same report. He's there. He's there. He's--]
He's taking the ship's figure head as a prize. If his creatures can haul it up, we're clear.
[Hector whispers, as if there's danger of being overheard. It just feels hushed in the dark cave of the ship's hull.
Of course Isaac would want some souvenir to lay as tribute at Dracula's feet, the insufferable suck-up. Hector wants to send the kraken to rend his ship asunder just on principle.]
You don't secretly know any curses you could lay on it, do you?
[He's not even that attached to this ship, but it's still a blow to his pride to have it stripped of the such a symbol.]
He is absolutely worth something that petty. You haven't met him. If you have something you could use and you are holding out on me, I won't forgive you.
[Ok, maybe they need to find a new air pocket, because Hector is maybe a little light-headed and getting loopy imagining Isaac cursed with scurvy or perpetually soggy boots or something.
He untangles his arm from the rope that has been keeping him steady and catches Alucard's coat in his fist. Cesar stirs in his arm and wags his little curl of a tail.]
Get us to the aft bulkhead. We should have more air there.
I'll beg forgiveness later too, if I remember something haphazardly.
[Alucard's far too focused on just getting through the next few hours. Survival is all that matters, and--
--yes. Different air would be good. Alucard adjusts to the weight of Hector on his coat, and takes a careful look at him and Cesar to ensure that they are secure.]
Understood. Hang on.
[Alucard waits until everyone has taken their last gulp of air, and then he dives under.
It has to be quick going. Alucard doesn't know how long Hector can hold his breath, and being a half-vampire doesn't negate his own need for air. The weight and drag of Hector slows him some, and Alucard prays that forcing vampire speed will assist a little. It...doesn't work as well underwater, but they move, and that's all that matters in the end.
The aft bulkhead has a bigger air pocket. Alucard gasps with relief when he surfaces there, followed by panting, terrifed breaths.]
[Alucard drags his two passengers to the back of the ship, and Hector does his best to keep himself streamlined and kick a little to push them along, but leaves most of the heavy lifting to the super-human.
He comes up and takes a deep breath before he cuts off Alucard's panicking.]
Shhh. I'm fine. I'm human, but I'm not delicate.
[He's known how to swim almost as long as he's known how to walk.
He gives Cesar's back a couple of quick pats, and the pug snorts out some water. He typically breaths, but it's not a necessity so long as Hector is nearby to sustain him.]
[Alucard's panicking splutters and then stops. Hector's right. He isn't delicate, and Alucard isn't about to argue otherwise. Hector is Hector and can manage just fine.
It doesn't stop him from letting out a soft noise of relief.]
Good.
[He's just going to pet Cesar now. To calm down his heart rate.]
The mers just checked in. It'll be a few more minutes yet. When that happens, we could possibly ask them to steer us through the wreck, rather than swimming on our own.
[It’s too dark for Hector to see now that he’s not working any magic, but they’re in close enough proximity that he can keep track of Alucard by sound and by the stirring of the water when he moves. He’s never out of arm's reach of Cesar, which helps.]
If I hadn’t been alright, would you have given me the kiss of life? You need to be in practice before your Speaker sails in to be your knight in shining robes.
[Because Hector’s options are fretting about their next moves while they wait in the dark, or shit talking Alucard. There’s a clear winner here.]
[Hector can't see the blush, but he can damned well hear it, and he vibrates with repressed laughter. It's probably partially from the exhaustion, to be fair.]
Because it's something to focus on that isn't impending doom. Don't worry, I'll try to get the ship raised as quick as I can so that you'll have somewhere to pretty yourself up before they get here.
[One day, Alucard is going to stumble upon something that he can tease Hector about mercilessly. Until that day comes, Hector is milking this for all it's worth.]
[Hector’s lived among vampire-pirates for the last couple of years. Each group independently is known for their depravity. When put together...well, there is little that shocks Hector now. Kissing a man as objectively handsome as Alucard isn’t something to balk at.]
Come on now, they joke that you are Dracula’s abstinent son, but that’s just the ‘not draining the blood of the innocent’, right?
This is how I die, isn't it? Not at my father's hand. Not from other vampires. It's going to be under a boat, slowly drowning, my last conversation having been about my extremly low levels of experience in life.
[Hector shakes his head. Alucard may not be able to see it, but Hector puts that exasperation into his voice so that he knows.]
We're not letting you die without even kissing someone before. That would be too pathetic to suffer. If we go down, get to the surface, turn into mist, and get out of here. Don't worry about me, I've at least lived during my short, mortal life.
[Because it's obvious to him that if Alucard did have some sort of experience to refute Hector's accusations, he would have presented it to save himself this teasing.]
Didn't the two of you stab one another when you parted ways? Forgive me if I'm skeptical that Daddy's approval was the deciding factor.
[Hey, this is filling the time until they can try to surface the ship, so Hector is happy to keep up the debate. He's not the one being ruthlessly teased. Hector would be tempted to offer to remedy the situation, except Alucard is so besotted with the Speaker and is probably saving himself for their marriage.]
I am serious, though. If it comes down to a situation where only one of us can live, I won't fault you for leaving me behind. It's astonishing that we've made it this far still alive.
[Alucard would give Hector a shove, but he's carrying very precious cargo in the form of Cesar. That's more important than his total lack of dignity. Look Hector he won't say no to that suggestion.]
I will try all routes available to avoid having that happen, Hector. Besides, if I leave you behind, that means Cesar's left behind too. Unacceptable.
Soon, then. Once he and all of his creatures are well away. The bastard is probably rushing straight to your father to show off his prize.
[Not that Hector is bitter about that. Nope, not at all. He has been trying to keep his breathing shallow so they don't waste air, but he has to heave a sigh at that.]
When I start to raise the ship, have the crew position themselves near the holes. They'll need to plug them up as soon as the water drains.
[Undead limbs will work as stoppers until they can do the actual repairs on the ship's walls.]
Keep an eye out, then. As soon I can raise us, the better.
[It would be a hard job any time, but especially when he is running on fumes like he is now. No rest for the wicked.]
It's not tormenting, it's teasing. [The difference being that the source is a friend, not a foe. It's the kind of thing Alucard might not get, with his lack of experience.]
Perhaps just a little more, and then I need to conserve the rest of my energy. Come here and take Cesar for me.
[And when Alucard is drawn close to take the dog, Hector will seize the collar of Alucard's jacket and tug him down to touch their lips together. Just, you know, in case they die, so Alucard's sad deprived ghost doesn't haunt the seas.]
I'll give it about ten more minutes, just to be sure. Or when we run out of air. Whichever seems to come first at this point.
[Alucard's sure that the air can last, although he's looking forward to being less soggy in the near future. He'd kill for his own ship's hair dryer once they're surfaced, warm air drying soaked skin and hair. All that's going to happen in the next few hours is he's going to be a salt encrusted mess.]
It seems to me a very subtle difference. [Yeah, nailed it there.
But you know, taking care of the dog. That's important, and Alucard's hands are out to take the pug when--
--well.
As first kisses go, the circumstances are extraordinary. Very salty, low on air, there's a dog in the middle, and an additional bit of force. Which actually feels about right for the point where Alucard is in his life.
No one should be surprised that while Alucard doesn't quite kiss back, he's let out a soft surprised noise when he pulls away. There's an undercurrent of delight in there too.]
[Hector didn't really think it through before he did it (which is par for the course in terms of his plans), and in the darkness, he can't see Alucard's face to judge his reaction. All he has to go on is the little noise he makes, and the fact that Hector doesn't feel fangs or claws tearing into him in the aftermath.]
There, now you're a man of the world. It's not like your father can want to kill me any more than he already does.
[Back to teasing, so that neither of them dwell on the moment and overthink it. Hector paddles back a little bit and finds a hand-hold so he doesn't have to expend more energy than necessary keeping himself above water.]
[Of all the responses to that, it feels like the only response is to very gently send a splash of water in Hector's direction. It isn't malicious either, just a very soft retaliation that comes with a weak laugh.]
Flawless logic, really.
[Except now Alucard has an armful of pug. And one particular question.]
Was that particularly luke warm in terms of skin contact?
[It feels like the kind of thing one should be aware of in general for the future.]
[He can't see anything anyways, so he lets his eyes close. It relieves a little of the tension of his brain struggling to map the darkness.]
'Lukewarm'? I was trying to make sure you didn't fall into a maidenly swoon from the shock. There's practically a language of kissing. That was 'hello', not 'take me now.' If you want a real lesson, you'll need to ask nicely.
[Hector frowns a little into the darkness, hoping that Alucard doesn't presume that that was his best effort.]
I don't know, Alucard. We're soaking wet. We probably both feel like ice blocks. I'll take your temperature once we've dried off if you're worried about it.
[It's an accidentally ambigious statement about actually repeating this. But never mind that. There's communication from the mer-creatures that Isaac is safely gone, and the ship? The ship can be raised again.]
We're good to go. But we should get ourselves clear by a few feet so that everyone else can do their work. Then climb aboard.
Will you be able to support yourself, or should I offer to hang onto you?
[Alucard does so, and soon enough, the next part of this awful night gets under way. The barrels are removed first, and then two of the creatures ferry the forgemaster and the dhampir to the surface. The moon and stars are the only source of light available, and through them, Alucard sees only a clear horizon.
If Isaac is waiting for them, then he has distance to contend with.
But the task is only partially completed, and Alucard moves so that he is behind Hector, capable of supporting the man the moment he requires it. He's asked one of the mercreatures to hang around just in case, and it's probably for the best.]
Whenever you're ready. Once we're on deck, you need to rest.
[Hector looks around, straining through the darkness until he gets eyes on Cesar, floating safely nearby. Ok. Time to begin.
He's too hopelessly soaked to create a spark, so he begins the channeling by flicking the water, sending droplets splashing down with a pale blue glow. It's a symbolic gesture, not a hard action and reaction, to bridge the immaterial and the material worlds.
He reaches out and down to the kracken. She's as tired as he is, though she's been wonderfully loyal in spite of the pains.]
Come. It's time to stretch now. [He whispers, too tired to project the thoughts solely with his power.] You've been brilliant. One last task, then down to the cool, dark depths to rest and feed yourself on little glowing fish.
[It makes it easier for both master and creation if their goals align. She wants to retreat, and knowing that he wants that too, she doesn't fight his suggestion.
She untangles her tentacles from around the ship and slips her body beneath it. She sucks in water and sends it jetting out, propelling her forward. Hector does not direct, other than reminding her of the goal; the water is her domain, and she knows her strengths better than he. She pushes, and the ship rises, then begins to sink, and she pushes again. It's a slow, draining process.
Finally, the water bubbles and churns, and the ship begins to emerge from the waves. Hector thinks to the ship is rocking strangely, until he realizes that no, his vision has gone fuzzy. Water streams out of the holes Alucard punched into the sides. Hector's last exhausted thought is, 'the crew better damned well be ready', and then he slumps against the barrel.]
[Alucard watches in silence, one eye on Hector, the other on Cesar. What he should be doing is paying attention to the horizon, but that? That's not as important as just making sure that the next few minutes are survived by everyone.
Seeing the ship rise again is a little miracle. Alucard directs the crew to plug up all of the holes as quickly as they're able and--
--shit. Hector.
Alucard rushes forward, and there's a little too much time supporting Hector's weight in the middle of the water, the dhampir playing the all too important balancing game until there's the all clear to return to the deck.
When Hector does come back into the realm of consciousness, he'll find the little pug next to him, and Alucard's very soggy coat and shirt acting as the worst possible pillow under his head. Alucard's laid him up on the deck beside the ship's wheel, and he's continuing to direct the crew through the first rays of the morning sun.
It's Cesar's sharp bark of joy that draws Alucard's attention, and while he doesn't move from his post, he does give acknowledgement.]
[Hector wakes, wet and salt-encrusted, and resists the urge to curl up in the fetal position. Never again, gods, his head feels like it is splitting. It's like the worst hangover he's ever had, without the benefits of having been drunk beforehand.
Cesar pounces on his face and licks him, so there's that. Hector shoos him away and rubs the tips of his fingers in circles against his temples.]
...morning. Is the shirtlessness for my benefit, or are you expecting your Speaker to come early?
[The sass hasn't gone anywhere, which should be a sign unto Alucard that Hector's still alive and kicking...or at least alive and limping along.]
Your benefit, if only to prevent your neck from hurting the moment you woke up.
[Alucard whistles for a member of the crew to come over and take control of the wheel. It allows Alucard to walk over and crouch down beside Hector, that way he's not shouting in the other man's direction.]
I have all the bedding, blankets, and such drying right now. It should be done soon.
Has there been any more sign of Isaac? How are the repairs holding up?
[The command of a pirate ship does not stop with a hangover, not even a magical one. Hector tries to guess at the ship’s speed from the rocking of the deck and the rustling of the sails. What he gets is, ‘we are moving’.
He pushes himself up with his elbows so he can look around.]
Did we lose anyone other than the decoy ship’s pilot?
[Alucard sighs, and when Hector does sit up, he tries to carefully guide the man a few inches over. There's a wall there, and it's easier to prop oneself up against that at the moment.]
No further losses. The repairs are...manageable. They'll be manageable until we reach our destination, and then we'll need to make some decisions about how we move forward. I don't know if if the boat will survive a journey further than our intended destination.
[With Alucard's assistance, Hector leans against the wall. He reaches up to the rail so he can try to pull himself up.]
That was a risk.... So long as she can get us to Death Island, we can't ask more of her than that. A ship isn't meant to sink and rise again.
[Although neither are people, but look at the crew around here.
Hector doesn't get very far in his effort to stand.]
Well, we're not going to impress the Belmont with our vessel, but hopefully you can seduce the Speaker into giving us a ride home if the Belmont can't be persuaded to lend us aid.
Slowly. [They're the first words out of Alucard's mouth when Hector reaches for the rail, and Alucard is immediately at Hector's side to brace him as he rises again.]
She's already gone above and beyond the call of duty for us. I don't know if we could demand more.
[Right. Standing's out. Alucard makes sure he's comfy there, braced against the wall.]
Are you telling me to use my body as a bargaining chip?
[Hector sags back down and lets his head fall back against the wall.]
...I just need a few minutes....
[He stares up at Alucard, his body pale in the morning light.]
Well, unless you think the Belmonts will let us live peacefully on their island, we need some way to get back to shore. If you have other ideas, feel free to share.
[Alucard looks at Hector, unconvinced about the idea that he might just need a few minutes. At least he can function for a day or two on his own, or at least that’s the very nice lie he tells himself.]
I haven’t had the luxury of time to think of other ideas. I’ll start in the next few minutes.
Oh, God hates all of us. Fortune sometimes takes strange pets though.
[Maybe she just likes the weirdest pets of all made by Hector's hand. There. That's the theory and he's sticking to it.]
Well, perhaps in time we will get that satisfaction. I'd tell you to go into your quarters and rest, but anything resembling a mattress is unuseable now.
[Hector settles more comfortably against the ship's side. If his bed is still soaked through, he assumes any hammock he hangs will be similarly dampened.
He resolves to give himself an hour before he forces himself up to relieve Alucard at the wheel. He drowses, and when he stirs again, he forces himself up and to the helm with swaying steps.]
Any more time shirtless in the morning sunlight, dhampir, and you will end up sunburned. That is no look to win over the Speaker.
I've only ever known her to be quick to change winds.
[Alucard is quiet as he works. He pauses to go below deck and see if any of the hammocks can be dried out and used, and there's some luck there that there are three viable candidates so long as they're kept int he sun. Alucard manages a way to string them up in the sun, and then he resumes the work.
When the hour passes, Alucard is unconvinced. Hector's movement is still unsteady.]
While I appreciate the concern, I'll go sunburnt if it means you can steady yourself with ease.
[Alucard hears that grumble though, then nods. He says no more as he heads off to the galley, but his return? That's much too quick, and his face is so, so grim.]
I'm sorry to report that the food supply, save a few things, is wrecked.
[Hector's lab is a study in organized chaos. Wild animals in various states of animation are constantly moving through it, so there is little point in him trying to keep it clean or tidy. Hector settles for knowing, generally, where things are, and sweeping up the dirt and dander each evening.
He can only imagine, wistfully, what Vlad Ţepeş's laboratories in his distant moving castle must be like. Vlad had told him of it when he visited, and Hector had felt like a child, begging for just one more story before bed. He had wandered quite a bit before settling down east of Rhodes, but he'd never met anyone like the man they called Dracula.
And Hector is resigned, now that the vampire has returned home, that he will never see him again. Maybe, if Hector is lucky, if he can make an exceptional enough breakthrough in his work, he can send a letter and start up a written correspondence with Vlad.
His current project concerns re-stimulating the growth of flesh on a reanimated specimen; specifically, he wants to see if he can help little Cesar regrow the flesh and fur and little pads of his bony paw. Hector is forever having to clean and mend the limb, and while the pup's clicking footsteps are charming when he dances around Hector's feet, he wants to heal him. He's neglected his supper in the pursuit of this, and if the flickering of the flames in the candles in the room are any indication, he is in the process of neglecting his bed time as well.
Hector drags a hand across his face and rubs his eyes. There is no force on earth that can distract him from his work.
Probably.]
Re: For Crypysleeper- Vlad never accounts for anyone's horniness for his son, we know this.
[It's a novelty, being so far from home. Being permitted to enter the world properly, because Alucard's presence in the world has always been a thing of debate between his parents. There is the fear of Alucard's nature inspiring harm against him, but it contradicts Lisa's own command to her husband. To travel and see the world as men do. Why should they deny their son the same opportunities to travel?
This is a trial run. To see if Alucard even wants to move beyond the safety of the castle walls and if traveling agrees with him. He's rode horses and wagons, spoken with his countrymen, with the Ottomans, with Greeks, all in service of reaching this isolated place. There have been pleasurable parts and deeply annoying ones, and Alucard is unsure exactly how he feels about the matter.
But he has reached his destination. His father's description of Hector's home is exacting, and Alucard knows that what happens next is up to his hands.
He knocks on the door twice. Then adds, just in case:]
I come on the authority of Vlad Ţepeş.
[It will either open a door or whoever lives there now will have no idea who Alucard is speaking of.]
[Hector can count on his hands how many times visitors have come to his door. Even less, the number of times those visits have been good.
Given the hour, and the work yet to be done, Hector is prepared to ignore the knock, until those words.
The door to the cabin flings open, and Hector is there, in the doorway, eager for whatever news the messenger bears from Vlad.
And immediately, he regrets not having taken a moment to comb back his hair or wash the grime and blood off his hands, because the man in the doorway must be some kind of incubus. The ancient Greek sculptors would weep for such a model.
It is either some sort of trap or he's collapsed in his lab, dreaming.
Behind him, Cesar yips and hobbles past him on three normal paws and one bone limb with faint hints of muscle tissue beginning to develop. The dog paws at the visitor's pants leg, demanding attention.
Hector...should probably say something. Anything.]
Yes? [Even this caught off guard, he has enough presence of mind to not immediately invite the stranger in, at least. Although if he has to die of something, being devoured by this man would certainly be a way to go.]
[Alucard isn't sure what to expect. His father had explained that Hector is a necromancer. A softer soul, and that had been it. So when Hector opens the door, the dhampir's golden eyes take a moment to process everything.
Hector is slender, but that may be from eating poorly. He's in the midle of work, going by the blookd and grime. He...has a dog? Alucard's gaze goes down to Cesar, and oh, yes. That's necromancy. For sure.
Alucard has a single leather travel bag over his shoulder. He reaches into it, pulling out a sealed letter that he offers to Hector. The seal is of a deep, blood red color and the rest is very much that of Vlad Tepes.]
The letter goes into depth, but my father would like to invite you to our home for a time.
[Hector's eyes go wide. If this is a trap set by a demon or one of Vlad's rival vampires to try to press gang him into their service, they are very well informed on how to tempt him.]
Just a moment.
[He ducks back into the house to grab a candle. Whoever the stranger is, he is not entirely human, and has better night vision than he does. Hector doesn't bother closing the door behind him. A vampire or a demon would not be able to cross the threshold without an invitation or a spell to remove his wards.
It is only 'paranoia' if the fear is unjustified.
Hector is at the doorway again, candle in hand, and he takes up the letter from the stranger. A reverent finger traces the seal before he breaks it.
Conscious of the eyes of the visitor, Hector tries to keep a stone face as he reads. By the second line, his jaw has dropped. The letter is undeniably from Vlad, and it is as the stranger...as is Vlad's son says. His lips twitch, and he has to consciously fight to not smile like a fool.]
Right...ok, come in. Sorry. I have to be cautious, you understand.
[He holds the letter in his hands with the care a priest might use for a sacred text, awestruck and a little overwhelmed.]
[Alucard doesn't blink when Hector retreats into the house to get a candle. Instead his attention turns to Cesar, who definitely has the dhampir's attention. He blinks down at the little dog, and once Hector's taken the letter, Alucard crouches down.
He offers out a hand to be sniffed, and once there's approval, Alucard's long, slender fingers begin to scratch Cesar right behind the ear. In the best spot, because Alucard knows where the best spot is. Wolf knowledge skills.
Alucard is just as content to keep showering Cesar in affection as he is to be inside and at journey's end. His eyes meet Hector's once the invitation is given and he nods once in acknowledgement.]
I understand. One doesn't live so far out of the way without due cause.
[Oh. Oh no. The gorgeous visitor is playing with his dog. Hector's one of many weakeness. This is absolutely unfair. Did Vlad do this on purpose to ensure Hector would take him up on his offer?]
Have you eaten? Do you eat?
[Hector steps back inside behind his guest and looks around his cabin with fresh eyes. Minimal, because he has little need or want for material possessions. Everything he has is functional, and most of it is for his research. There are a few precious books and scrolls he has managed to obtain throughout the years, tools for taking apart and piecing back together, and, of course, more than the regular amount of animal parts.
His table is mostly covered with his notes on his muscle-regrowth trials, which are a mixture of notes in a Greek chicken scratch and sketch. It is so very apparent that Hector is not set up to entertain.]
You can put your bag...wherever, I guess.
[He shuffles through some cabinets and shelves and comes back with a bottle of wine, half a loaf of bread, and a few odd apples he picked while he was out walking his pets.
Cesar, the friendliest of his little friends, follows Alucard as he walks around. The others are more cautious, and glowing blue eyes stare out from the shadows of the room, gauging the new potential threat.]
[Alucard is careful to clarify that fact, as he knows his father's letter does include the explanation that his son requires no special diet and can manage in the sunlight without any problem at all.
It's such a small place. Functional, and lacking so much of the kind of lab space that Alucard has grown up around. He judges nothing there, and simply settles for putting his bag down and out of the way near the door.]
Thank you.
[The bread looks fine enough, but Alucard doesn't dare to sit down. He doesn't want to get food over Hector's notes.]
[There is at least a tiny room set apart for his bed, but yes, this little cottage could probably fit inside some of the larger closets in Dracula's castle. Hector begins to stack his notes up in a pile to make a space for Alucard to sit and eat.]
Yes, his name is Cesar. Unless you cause a ruckus, you'll see his siblings once you sit down and eat.
[Hector could order them to emerge, but he prefers to let them make their own decisions in accordance to his nature. Dracula's son has, thus far, been quiet and polite; their curiosity will not be long in outweighing their fear.]
Did you have to travel far to get here? Your father's castle moves, so I don't know what your starting destination was.
[It is one of the reasons he figured he would never be able to seek Vlad out; no one ever knows where Castlevania will be at any given time.]
[Alucard settles down along side the spot Hector is clearing. He doesn't move to help, but that's only because Hector's notes doubtlessly have a specific order and he knows better than to disturb such an assemblage.]
Cesar. A very good name.
[So the dog gets one more scratch behind the ears, before the full of Alucard's attention settles on Hector.]
I've been on the road for a week. I expect to take that long to return which...am I incorrect in saying that you will be joining me?
[Hector slides the pile of notes away onto a shelf and returns to uncork the bottle.]
Yes, of course. Is there time for me to pack? And I'll need to give my pets an examination before we head out, to make sure they are fit to travel.
[He pauses.]
The invitation extends to them as well, yes?
[God, he hopes so, because the only thing that might shake his resolve to return to his mentor's side is if he would have to abandon his pets to do so.
He pours a glass of wine for Alucard and passes it to him without meeting his eye.]
[It is not the first all-nighter he's pulled, and it won't be his last. Now that his guest is settled and given the meager meal Hector has to offer, Hector ducks into his tiny bedroom and straightens it up.
When he returns to the living area, his pets have begun to emerge, watching Alucard with glowing eyes. Two dogs, a cat, a fox, and a hawk, all with marks of their undead nature somewhere on their bodies.]
I trust your father would not have sent you if you had any allergies to dander, but if any of them make pests of themselves, just shoo them away. It's not much, but there's a bed through that doorway. You can sleep there tonight.
[He nods to another door set in the back of the cabin.]
There's a well out back. I'll bring in some water so you can wash up.
[That is one thing he remembers from his own time spent traveling in his younger days- the grime of the road.]
[Alucard's finished the wine that has been offered, and his attention? That's back to Cesar, who he's scooped up and just plopped in his lap. It is much more comfortable like this, and now he's scritching under Cesar's chin.]
I promise you, I'll be fine. And you don't need to give up your bed for me. I'm sure you are aware of my father's abilities to transform, and I can do much the same.
[However, at the offer of water, a little bit of light does flicker and catch in Alucard's eyes.]
[Is it too soon to propose marriage? Being stunningly handsome is one thing, but being able to transform into a giant wolf or a bat is so much better. Hector steps toward Alucard, then forcibly stops himself.]
No, don't show me now, I'll get nothing done.
[Tomorrow, tomorrow for sure. Hector steps out of the back door and comes back with a bucket of clean water and a cloth, which he sits down on the floor beside Alucard's chair. On his way back up, he gives Cesar a quick ruffle behind the ears.]
I don't mind if you take the bed. I'll be up packing anyways.
[Alucard's smile is small and fleeting at Hector's enthusiasm, but oh, it's there.]
I'll wait until we are closer to the castle.
[Closer to the castle means far safer. And so Alucard keeps showering attention on Cesar, until clean water arrives. He considers the stuff for a moment, then nods.]
Well, if you insist.
[Hand on the bucket handle, Alucard stands slowly.]
You don't mind if I close the door for a few moments?
[He's clearly doing a lot of washing up from the road.]
[Hector sighs, but that is for the best. He isn't a patient man, but having to wait will motivate him to get his affairs in order quickly and get moving.]
Go ahead. You can treat this house as your own.
[Hector just...is not going to think about the state of undress the dhampir will be behind that door. This is fine. Um. Pet inspections. He should do that.
While Alucard is getting himself cleaned up, Hector begins to rotate through the pets, lifting them one at a time to stand on the table so he can inspect their pelts, paws, extremities. There is some minor repair work to be done, accompanied by the sound of a hammer strike and glowing blue light.]
You're ready as you'll ever be to go back into the wild. [He tells the fox, stroking its long coppery back. He's done some patchwork on it to get it whole again, and the grafts have taken well.]
[And with that, Alucard takes the bucket of water into Hector's room and closes the door. It's not the luxury of heated water through pipes like he has at home, but it's more than enough for Alucard to scrub off all the grit and grime of the road. He takes his time, starting with his face, then arms and legs, and then shedding his shirt and trousers for just long enough to clean off the worst of what has accumulated there.
It takes him fifteen minutes or so to be cleaned to his level of satisfaction, and when Alucard does re-emerge, it is with his hair lightly and messily braided back so that sleep can be an option for the evening.
But he is careful not to disturb Hector's work. He instead walks the bucket of water outside and discards it, knowing full well it's too dirty to have a second life. When that errand is done, he returns with the empty bucket.]
By the door is fine. I'll need to fetch more water in the morning.
[Alucard is being polite. Hector's hospitality is nothing to write home to Daddy Dracula about; he is too caught up in his work to prepare for hypothetical guests. Now that one such guest is here, he is scrambling to do what he can.]
How are we going to be traveling, once we reach the mainland? I have a cart I can use to get the animals to the nearest port. If we're going to be traveling by foot from there, I may need to invest in a beast of burden.
[Does 'invest' mean buying or making? Who can say?]
[By the door it is. Alucard places the bucket there, then retreats to the bedroom. He does understand the need for logistics, but now that he has seen a bed? Oh, oh the desire to sleep has overtaken him.]
We'll travel by wagon along regular routes, and then walk for a time. The castle will meet us at an appropriate spot.
[Meaning that there's no need for a cart, but there is a need for transportation.]
[Hector hums. No cart, so he'll need to only pack what he can reasonably expect to carry with him. Good thing he doesn't have much.
He points to Cesar and then to the second dog, a black Cretan Hound that has curled up beside him.]
Two. Cesar and Antonius. The others came from the wild, and are fit to return to it.
[Antonius is a useful companion. A hunting dog and a guard dog, which Hector would likely need more if his traveling companion was not a dhampir. Cesar, on the other hand, is coming because only Hector loves him, and because the silly little thing could never survive on his own. He will need to be carried for basically the entire journey, and Hector will not go without him.]
Don't let me keep you up. I'll try to pack quietly.
[In terms of physical possessions that need to come along with them, he has only a few sets of clothes, his necromancer's tools, and a few odd and ends for the dogs; the rest of Hector's night is going to spent trying to sort through years of notes to wrangle it down to what will fit into his bag.]
[Alucard understands that Cesar's issues can be hidden with careful bandaging, and that the little pug's endurance is going to be a problem. They can carry him in one of the packs, and he'll probably enjoy it a little too much. Antonius draws the dhampir's attenton, and he looks the hound over carefully.]
I'll defer to your judgement on all these matters.
[And that's all he'll say on that. A yawn escapes, and Alucard knows better than to fight exhasution.]
Thank you. I'll see you in the morning.
[Alucard retreats into the bedroom. Perhaps it isn't surprising that the son of Dracula's sleeping form doesn't move at all. He's more statue than man. Easy to mistake for a corpse. But he does get himself well tangled and settled in what blankets are in the bed first, and his hair seems to trail after him.]
[Hector is surprised that Alucard leaves the door open as he sleeps. He tries not to look, though he does sneak into the little room once during the night to collect his extra clothes to pack. Alucard is doing his sleep of the dead in a hopelessly rumpled bed with an undead cat curled up beside his pillow.
It’s hard to breathe, and Hector sneaks back out, silently scolding himself that Lord Vlad’s son would absolutely be off limits. There is no point in even looking.
Morning finds Hector asleep on the floor in front of the little fire place, wrapped up in a spare blanket and surrounded by his pets.
Hector had had all the best intentions of only napping for an hour once he’d finished sorting his notes. He’d planned on being up at dawn to prepare for their departure, but here he is, still asleep.]
[Alucard sleeps like the dead, but he also wakes up all at once. He's up in the morning without blinking, and when he walks out the door, he...
...he can't say he's surprised to find Hector curled up in front of the fire place. He does nothing to disturb the man. Instead Alucard focuses on remembering where Hector pulled food from last night, and scrounges up a little bit of cheese, more wine, and staleing bread that he knows probably has only a day left until mold kicks in.
Only once the table is laid out and water is brought in from outside that Alucard dares to disturb Hector. Crouches down and places a soft hand on Hector's shoulder.]
[Hector is accustomed to movement when he sleeps- his pets come and go as they please- and even to falling asleep in the lab area when his work outweighs his common sense.
It is hearing a voice as he is shaken that jolts Hector out of his sleep in confusion.]
Wha?
[He sees Alucard, angelic in the morning light, and his mind races to catch up with his startled heartbeat.]
Right. Fuck. Sorry, I overslept. Let me get you...
[He looks past Alucard and sees breakfast already arranged on the table, because Vlad's son is infuriatingly perfect and Hector is The Worst Host Ever.]
[Hector sits up, shrugs his shoulders, and scrubs his hands across his face.]
I'll be fine. I keep strange hours.
[He stands, and the animals dance around his feet on his way to the back door. They rush out. The wild ones will see to their own needs. The dogs go out to run around the well and sniff at various landmarks.]
They don't need as much as they did in their first lives, but they can eat. Cesar will beg shamelessly for scraps when he comes back in. Harden your heart.
[Because he's noticed you melting when you look at him, Alucard.]
[It could be a joke, but Alucard's a little too matter of fact with that statement. He himself goes towards the table, because he's hungry and would prefer to get going soon. Still, watching the rush of animals just go. It's a joyful thing.
Once settled, Alucard tears a hunk of bread off for hmself.]
I'll try my best. Do you have everything you need to travel with?
I was able to adapt to your father's schedule easily enough during his visit.
[He leaves the door open and comes to sit down for breakfast. He'll leave the doors open when he leaves, so that the pets staying behind will have a safe place to come home to.
He picks at the food Alucard set out, too anxious about starting the journey to have much of an appetite. This is probably why Vlad sent Alucard to fetch him; because Hector is an idiot who can't be trusted to take care of himself.]
Yes, I got everything together before I laid down. Once we eat and I get my friends settled, we can go.
My mother and myself generally run on an afteroon until midnight schedule.
[Alucard feels that it's only fair to let the young man know what home's clock is like. If his mother's not at the clinic, it's afternoon to evening hours. If she is, then it's far more oriented to the hours of the living.
The dhampir eats, eyes moving up and over to Hector every so often.]
We can take whatever isn't eaten on the road with us, if you've no appetite.
Yes, I can imagine you're able to operate at whatever hours you desire. Vlad said his castle has light sources more efficient than candles, and that it can be as bright as daylight even at midnight.
[Such a thing is a miracle to Hector. Vlad had chuckled at his expression when he'd told him about some of the castle's amenities. Right now, he taps his foot with nervous energy.]
Eat your fill, and we can pack the rest.
[The dogs come back in and Hector, in spite of what he told Alucard about being strong in the face of those puppy dog eyes, tosses scraps to the two greedy mouths. The tapping of their nails against the wooden floor as they dance around fills the quiet cabin.]
You're going to enjoy learning about the castle's advanced ammenities.
[Alucard sounds proud about that, borderline smug. His father's home is an absolute achievement of science, and to be there is an absolute fortune.
But he does eat his fill, clearing his plate. That means no scraps for the dogs, although Alucard smiles when he watches Hector give in and be defeated in front of those puppy eyes.
[There isn’t really a reason to clean up the table from their meal, but Hector does anyways. A quick clearing away of dishes, then he refills the bucket of water and leaves it on the floor. The back door and bedroom door, he keeps open.]
The hawk won’t return here, but the fox will until she finds a new burrow, and the cat definitely will.
[Hector explains as he slips a scrap of blanket over Antonius’ back, covering the fatal gouge in his side where he’d been pierced by a wild pig’s tusk. He ties it into place like a saddle blanket. It might look a little odd to a passer by, but the weather is turning chilly enough that they hopefully won’t question it further.
Cesar gets a strip of bandage wrapped around his paw. Hector doesn’t bother with his head yet; the little menace will wiggle out of them long before they encounter any populated areas.
He wraps a strip of cloth around his chest and tied it the way some of the young mothers in the villages do to hold their babies. He takes up his bag, the scoops up Cesar and cradles him in the cloth. The dog pops his head and front paws out, panting in excitement for whatever adventure awaits him.]
[The little saddle is darling, but it gives Alucard another idea. He retreats into the bedroom and gathers up two of the blankets he slept under the previous evening. They're quickly folded so they too can be packed, as Alucard knows that if they don't need them for cool nights of sea travel, then they're good items to barter with.
He walks out in time to see Cesar now in his little doggy backpack, and for the first time there is a real smile on his face. Small, yes, but it is equal parts delighted and endeared to the scene in front of him. Alucard lets out a soft laugh, and then brushes past the two in order to get to his own bag.]
Very well. Let us begin.
[Begin means get a boat to a more major port, and from that port gain access to another ship that will go so far as Istanbul. Alucard knows that sea travel is risky, but once in Istanbul oh, there are options aplenty.
He has money, which buys them their own little bit of space on a ship that's a healthy mix of passengers and cargo. The room is claustrophobic, but there's two hammocks and the illusion of privacy, so what else is there to fuss with?
They have five days to port. Days Alucard spends on deck watching the ocean go by, and nights showering both dogs with affection if Hector isn't. Like now, with the pug content on his lap.]
((Figured that this would be a good jump to smoochin point.))
[For Hector, being on the ocean is nerve-wracking. The depths hold no fear for him, but being on a ship with strangers where he could not hope to escape...if they discovered a necromancer and a dhampir within their ranks, Hector and Alucard would have no hope. That is the occupation of his mind during the day.
In the evenings, the rest of the ship is forgotten in the safety of their little room. The torture is much sweeter. Alucard smiling. Alucard quietly laughing over Cesar's antics. Alucard lavishing praise and affection on his dogs, which sends Hector simultaneously into jealousy and weak-kneed infatuation. Hector should not want his mentor's son, but Hector is human, and humans are weak.
Hector returns to their quarters for the evening, and seeing Alucard rubbing Cesar's chin with such gentle joy, he cracks.
He seats himself beside Alucard and lets one hand bump against Alucard's as he strokes the dog in his lap.]
Careful, if you spoil him too much, he'll love you better than me.
[There's obvious teasing in his tone. He pauses a moment, as if assessing the room, then casually remarks...]
It's grown warm in our little room. Aren't you hot with all that hair on your neck?
[Emboldened from the madness born of this torture, Hector abandons his petting of Cesar to stroke a hand through Alucard's golden locks, in the guise of brushing the strands behind his ear.]
[There is the risk of traveling in close quarters, that someone might mutter vampire or see the damage to the dogs and demand explanations. It's one of the reasons Alucard has made a point of being visible during the day. Making sure he's seen, and if he interacts with anyone, it's only ever pleasant. He's good at it. He's learned, mostly from watching his mother at his clinic all these years.
She'll be glad to have him back. That much he knows.
But also through observation, he has caught what he thinks is something more affectionate from Hector. He's not sure, and it has seemed inappropriate to ask. They're already in close quarters, and they'll be in close quarters even upon returning home. Misinterpretation could cast a dark shadow over Dracula's plans.
So the bump against his hand definitely feels like a confirmation of suspicions. The statement gets a wry little noise.]
I'm fairly sure that's impossible, based on his circumstances.
[Forgemasters can instill loyalty, after all. And Alucard is far too new to Cesar's afterlife anyway. There will always be Hector.
He opens his mouth to respond to the question, but far too late. Hector's already made a move, and at this point, the intention is obvious. What Alucard feels as heat in his own cheeks is a faint trace of red to a trained eye.
Alucard fails to consider that Hector is the kind of person who'd notice that.]
Mm. I hadn't noticed, but that is a little better. Thank you.
[The longer Hector's fingers linger in Alucard's hair, the more obvious the color becomes. For that reason alone, Alucard is quick to agree. It means Hector can't see his face. Or any other reactions that follow.
So he nods, a little too quick.]
It probably needs it.
[Alucard has only worn it pulled back while on deck. It is also so much easier to focus on that fact rather than how new all of this is to him. The faster heartbeat, the red in his cheeks, the sudden threat of being overwhelmed.
He doesn't shift away quickly. Wrong message. Rude. Instead Alucard half scoots so that he's diagonal instead, leaving Hector plenty of hair access for braiding.]
[Hector scoots so he is better situated behind Alucard and begins to comb his fingers through his hair, caressing the scalp as he separates out the sections. He has mostly braided horses' manes and tails, but Alucard doesn't need to know that.]
Tell me, is it just you and your parents at the castle?
[Tell him about his competition, Alucard. He begins to twine the sections together, careful not to tug too tightly and ruin the moment. Perhaps later, if this seduction attempt does not end in tears.]
It is, yes. My mother's clinic is still based out of Lupu, and so we reside there from time to time as well. They have a general good regard for my mother, and she has tried to encourage them to interact with me as well. It's....light. Surface level topics, really.
[Which is to say that there's no competition, buddy.
Alucard's shoulders slump forward a little. It's nice, having someone else fussing with his hair. Relaxing. Soothing.]
Mm, you haven't witnessed them together. It's a remarkable thing, their level of affection for each other.
[There's such fondness in his voice for the memory. Alucard has seen other couples in Lupu, but none of them act like his parents do. Head over heels and absolutely stupid for each other. He can't count the number of times he's seen his father just sit back and admire Lisa simply for being.
It's a memory he almost gets lost in, until the kiss to the back of his neck brings Alucard back to reality. There's a soft, surprised noise, and Alucard half turns his head towards the other man.]
Hector?
[The intonation is surprised and unsure. Trying to figure out intention.]
[Hector can only extrapolate from Vlad's descriptions of his wife - who might well be an angel, to hear him tell it - and guess how disgustingly in love they must be. Hector's never seen anything like that first hand to even know.
But that is not where his focus really lies at the moment. He lets the braid fall from his hands into Alucard's back, and as Alucard turns toward him, he leans forward whisper into the dhampir's ear.]
Are you lonely, Alucard?
[You don't have to be... he tries to convey with the barest touch of his lips against the earlobe.]
[VLAD JUST REALLY LOVES HIS WIFE now you get to live with all of that Hector.
Alucard's blush is back. He's sure that Hector can hear the dhampir's thundering heartbeat as well, even as the rest of Alucard points out that such a thought is plainly ridiculous.
The question has implications. But the dhampir's never been kissed or navigated a situation like this before, so it takes time to find an answer.]
I don't know if I've been around enough people to truly say.
[Hector has only human senses to work with, but he can tell Alucard is a little flustered. Hector's own pulse has quickened. He nudges Cesar out of Alucard's lap and gives both dogs the silent suggestion to sleep. Abuse of his necromatic powers? Maybe.]
Well, we have a hypothesis, that you are lonely. The logical course of action is to devise a test, and proceed with rigorous scientific trials.
['Rigorous scientific trials' should not be a pick-up line, but here there be nerds.
Hector brings his fingers up to Alucard's chin and tilts his face toward Hector's.]
The night is young. What say you to getting to the bottom of this?
[If there is going to be a refusal, better to get it out in the open now, before Hector embarrasses himself any further with terrible innuendo.]
[Total abuse of necromancer powers. That? That Alucard does notice, and if Hector ever jokes about the dogs loving him better, he's going to just bring this up.
Scientific flirting does get a soft laugh out of him, and it is gentle and terribly awkward. He leans into it all the same, quite literally as Hector's fingers meet his chin.]
Perhaps not overly rigorously? This is new territory for me.
[Hector moves closer until he can murmur against Alucard’s lips:]
How could anyone who’s met you resist kissing you senseless?
[Perhaps Vlad and Lisa are responsible, shielding their son’s virtue in their castle stronghold. Hector at least has the rare good judgement to not bring up the parents of the man he’s about to smooch.
He wants to do everything to and with Alucard, to thoroughly explore, but this is only the first trial (of many, he desperately hopes). He presses their lips together, moving gently and keeping the first contact chaste.]
[There is a simple truth for that, and it's that Vlad has very high standards for who can date his son. Who is allowed near their little family, because there lies a deep risk. A mortal might create problems, scream witch or vampire and bring mobs to the door. A vampire might see a political move and try to use Dracula's own son against him.
And Alucard, ever aloof, ever arm's length from the world? It hasn't been a problem.
The chasteness is a blessing, because it shows how little Alucard knows. He does kiss back after a moment or so passes, but there's hesitation. A lack of clarity with how all of this goes. A fumble, because well, everyone learns this by doing.]
[When Alucard responds, Hector parts his lips and deepens the kiss. He moves slowly, not with hesitation, but like he does with wild creatures, so not to spook Alucard.
He has never been a teacher before, but he is finding the experience highly rewarding. He trails a hand down Alucard's side, just feeling the shape of him and basking in this closeness.]
[As much as one might make innuendo of comparing Alucard to a horse, it isn't a wrong metaphor for a moment. He's big and pretty and very liable to be spooked at the moment, and the steady approach is far wiser than any other tactic.
He's not sure if he's meant to be looking at Hector or not, but instinct sees Alucard's eyes flutter closed as the kiss deepens. Easier to focus on other senses and actions, but beyond opening his mouth just a little bit more, he's unsure what the next step is.
Alucard's cool to the touch, even through the fabric. As for his own hands, they remain on his own lap, but twitch. Certain they should be doing something.]
[Hector slips his hand under Alucard's shirt and lets his fingers brush against the cool, taut skin of his side. His other hand reaches up to the braided hair, stroking the strands. See what options you have, Alucard? There are so many wonderful places to touch while kissing, even for one so pure as the driven snow.
His tongue brushes Alucard's lips, warning of his intrusion before taking the invitation of that open mouth to explore. He is going to assume that Alucard is like him, a naturally curious student who learns by barrelling in and doing.]
[Hector, of course Aluard doesn't barrel into things directly. What a ridiculous idea.
He moves into them slowly instead, or at least he is in this situation. Little steps, adjusting to a warm bath. Letting Hector's tongue in, but not wanting to move too far beyond that. Staying still because Alucard knows how sharp his fangs are, and he doesn't want to cut Hector's tongue.
One hand moves. Up, coming to rest on Hector's cheek. Holding it as gingerly as one can, and the other resting at Hector's hip. It's a tentative grip, but it's there all the same.]
[Hector hums approval at Alucard's tentative touches. He shifts closer and lets his knee bump Alucard's.
His tongue maps Alucard's mouth, tracing the length of the fangs and carefully feeling the points. How many can say they've touched a vampire's fangs without shedding blood?
Hector bumps his tongue against Alucard's, then withdraws it slowly, beckoning Alucard to follow it back and show Hector what he is learning.]
[Few men would be mad enough to try touching a vampire's fangs in the first place.
But as Hector's tongue makes expectation's clear, Alucard breaks the kiss. His hands stay where they are, but the reason becomes apparent the moment his lips leave Hector's. He's more than a little breathless, and even dhampirs need air.
[Hector lets out a breath he's been holding and opens his eyes to look at Alucard's flushed face. There is more than the usual amount of color in his own cheeks as well.]
I am a self-taught necromancer. Boldness is a prerequisite.
[He withdraws his hand from Alucard's side and brushes a hand through his own silver waves of hair, which feel too hot against his skin.]
[Ain’t no rule in the syllabus says he CAN’T make out with the professor’s son.
Hector might have been offended about the uncertainty, except from Alucard, it is both good scientific practice and also an invitation to continue. ‘Inconclusive’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘bad’.
He traces a path to Alucard's ear with feather-light kisses, then down the column of his neck. No biting or sucking yet, just more kissing data points for Alucard to map and correlate in his mind.]
A second trial, then.
[He returns to Alucard’s lips, letting his tongue tease Alucard’s once more.]
[PROFESSOR DIDN'T THINK HE HAD TO MAKE THIS RULE HECTOR.
With Hector's lips on his neck, Alucard knows his heart beat can be felt. That it's racing. But more than that, that the sharp sudden intake of breath has probably reverberated against Hector. Because surprise, the dhampir is a stereotype.
Better that they resume where they were then. And this time, Alucard's quicker on the uptake. Parts his lips, but then remembers the invitation from before. Nudges his tongue against Hector's to ask for permission to return all that exploration.]
Oh, Hector will be back for that neck later. His skittish dhampir must be handled with care. They’ll work their way up to necking.
Hector smiles into Alucard’s mouth as his student mimics Hector’s technique. Perhaps they are ready to advance.
Hector presses closer and lets his tongue dance with Alucard’s. His hands sneak around the dhampir, one at the back of Alucard’s head and the other rubbing little circles into the small of his back. That way, when he pulls back for air, disheveled and devilishly smug, he knows Alucard won’t go far.]
Has anyone ever told you what a quick study you are?
[HE TRUSTED YOU HECTOR YOU ARE GETTING SUCH A LECTURE LATER!!!
Alucard tilts just a little when Hector's hand comes to rest at the back of his head. There's something about the sensation that encourages any tension that might be in Alucard to just go slack. So he does, tongue carefully and studiously seeing what feels best against Hector's.]
A great many times in my life.
[It's said with a very faint smile on his lips. In contrast to Hector's smugness is a softer contentedness, because Alucard had registered what this particular rite of passage is and that it's an important moment for anyone.]
You'd be insufferable if I didn't like you so much.
[He doesn't really think about what he's saying, because he's equally driven by two heads at the moment. He does like Alucard, a lot.]
Stop me if I go too fast. I won't be offended.
[While Alucard is relaxed and content, Hector is going to nuzzle his face back into Alucard's neck, testing out those stereotypes. He has an experiment of his own going on, to see what noises he can draw out of his quiet traveling companion.]
[YOU'RE GOING ON DOUBLE SECRET PROBATION YOUNG MAN!!!]
Insufferable?
[The question is genuinely confused, because how? Alucard doesn't understand. He needs to be around people more, clearly.
He's about to ask a second clarifying question, but Hector's intent is clear. It means that there's no time for questions, just a second short breath as Hector's face brushes against Alucard's neck. And here? Here there seems to be a little bit of instinct, because the dhampir's head tilts back to allow for better access. One hand threads into Hector's hair, searching for something to grab onto. His other? That one gathers the fabric of Hector's shirt in hand, feeling at what's underneath. Not enough tiddy.]
[If Vlad wants to protect his son's virtue, he shouldn't send him out to collect godless youths, sheesh!
Hector looks up from Alucard's neck.]
You do know you're perfect, right? Humans can't measure up.
[He shudders as Alucard gropes at his chest. God, he wants to worship that perfect, inhuman body. He ducks his head back down and sucks at the pulse. Any mark he leaves on Alucard's skin won't last long, but that doesn't mean Hector won't have the time of his life leaving them there.]
[Vlad did NOT ANTICIPATE THIS PROBLEM you're so grounded Hector]
Mmmm?
[The noise is a soft vibration in Alucard's chest, one that grows as Hector decides that Alucard's thundering pulse is the far more exciting thing to pay attention to.
But the emphasis on being human, or not quiet, that does give Alucard pause.]
[Vlad disagrees Hector you are here to STUDY not seduce his son!!!]
Now that sounds false. I presume they're more experienced than I am.
[While no one would want it, if anyone could pull it off? Alucard could.
Happily, that's not the point. The point is where Hector's hands have moved to now, and the consideration that it prompts. There's a breathy sigh, and the hand on Hector's chest leaves so it can rest atop Hector's. The pressure is firmer than anything else.]
[Hector stops his movement down Alucard's leg and turns his palm up so he can lace his fingers with Alucard's.]
Experience isn't the most important factor.
[Hector isn't prone to talking about feelings, but he's not going to let someone as exquisite as Alucard downplay his value.]
You love my dogs. I'd choose you over the most skilled lover for that alone.
[He scoots back to give Alucard a little breathing room. If that is all Alucard wants this evening, Hector will be content with the kisses he's already stolen.]
[The tone may be incredulous, but it's laced with a faint laugh. Alucard does not know Hector well enough yet, but somehow? That statement feels the Most Hector a statement would be.
Alucard leans his head back just a little, so it rests against the wall of their room. He knows he was right to call it here. And he'll call it at this point for a while yet.]
Of course they are. Most people call them monsters.
[Must Love Undead Dogs. That is the first line of Hector's dating profile.
Hector lets out another deep breath, willing his heart to stop thumping so loudly. He is no innocent, but Alucard is attributing to him an expertise he lacks.]
Talk, or sleep, or part ways. It depends.
[He uses his free hand to lift his hair from the back of his neck.]
It is rather hot in here. I may take a quick walk on deck to cool my head before bed.
[It is up to Alucard whether he will join, or if he'll stay and have a little bit of privacy to collect his thoughts here in the room.]
[It's not a judgement either way. Just a simple statement of fact, one that couples with Alucard withdrawing both of his hands from Hector. Processing everything? That's something he wants to do alone.]
If I asked for a few moments alone, would you begrudge me?
I'll take a longer walk on deck. Keep an eye on the dogs.
[Time for Hector to go freak out about how badly he's fucked upenvision all the ways Vlad is going to gruesomely murder himkiss his grad program goodbye not be where Alucard is so he can actually summon more than two brain cells together and think about what's going to happen next.
Hector doesn't know how long Alucard typically takes to brood, but he walks the length of the deck over and over, until the last of the sunlight fades and all of the heat of those kisses is blown away by ocean breeze and the misting spray of the waves. He stays away until it is simply too dark and chilly to not retire to his quarters. Hopefully that is enough.]
[While Hector is out, Alucard takes the time to pace the room. The dogs don't seem to be disturbed at all, and at some point in all the pacing, Alucard's not there. It's the wolf moving back and forth, thinking over what just happened and quite frankly, how his father is likely to react. He has no doubt that Dracula will determine that this happened through some method.
The wolf's claws scrape softly over the wooden floor, going and going and going until Alucard's determined the following: first, that doing more of this without a declaration of clear intent is a bad idea. Even if this is nothing more than kissing for kissing's sake, then that much has to be stated. Second, nothing below the belt. That's how Dracula truly starts to disapprove. Three, how to approach Dracula when he figures all of this out.
By the time Hector is returned, Alucard is snug in his hammock already, one of the blankets already draped over himself.]
[Hector opens the door and peeks inside before he enters. He sees Alucard bedded down in his hammock. He steps inside and pulls the door shut as quietly as possible.
He strips out of his boots and wet shirt and tip toes to extinguish the candle. The dogs stir, and Hector shushes them, but gives Antonius a quick scratch behind the ears and scoops Cesar up to lay on his stomach as he settles into his own hammock.
Hector has no answers as to what to do, but he'll lie awake in the comfort of his swinging bed and try to figure it out until sleep finds him.]
[Alucard rises late the next day, warm and contented by the movement of the ship. When he goes up deck, he speaks with the crew, and the end of this portion of the journey is in sight. They'll likely make port tomorrow. It's important information to have, and Alucard spends the afternoon plotting out routes. He knows all the roads required to take them close to the castle. It's only a matter of which one.
Come evening, when the sun has set, Alucard returns to their room. Sits himself down and opens the small notebook that he has brought along, and writes carefully in it so he can best organize all transportation options before them.
He's not sure where Hector is. But they do need to speak, that much Alucard is certain of.]
[Hector is up with the sun in the morning, full of restless energy in spite of his fitful sleep the night before.
He has a vague idea now, but isn't certain how to see it to fruition. It takes the better part of the day, making tentative contact with other passengers, bartering with the few possessions he has.
When he returns in the evening, he brings a prize with him, which he places beside Alucard's book.]
Baklava?
[Hector has experience with physical intimacy, but next to none with dating. Giving gifts is a part of courtship, he thinks. His options are limited by their location, but it's a start. Probably. If Alucard is interested.]
[Alucard picks his head up from his work, and then the honeyed scent of the dessert hits him all at once. The ingredients are familiar enough, but the assembly? Oh, that's new, and absolutely wonderful.]
Please.
[He moves the little bit of work space off to the side, part of him vaguely wondering how Hector has acquired this. Probably best not to ask.]
[Alucard selects a small piece of the stuff, unsurprised that the shine means that it is a very sweet, sticky thing to touch. There's the honey of course, but the undercurrent of rosewater is a delicate and surprising touch.
[Hector has always known, in theory, he is not the type of man anyone would want to bring home to their parents. It still sucks.]
Your father would disapprove?
[He isn't sure which rejection would be more devastating: Alucard's or Vlad's. Vlad is the first person who ever looked at Hector with anything other than horror. His opinion is one of the only ones that matters.]
[Hector’s response is one that Alucard may have seen on the journey thus far, when Cesar does something adorable and Hector is trying and failing to keep a stoic facade up in front of his traveling companion. A widening of the eyes, a twitching of his lips as he fights to keep a smile at bay, the quickening of a heartbeat that hopefully, no one is supernaturally sable to hear.]
I wouldn’t be opposed.
[He says totally coolly, like the cool and composed guy that he is.]
[Hector doesn’t know what kind of suggestions will offend Alucard’s sensibilities, so he just shrugs again. He’d let Alucard bite him, if he wanted to, or use his vampiric powers on him; Hector has always been driven by curiosity, not by self-preservation.]
I can be a lab partner of sorts. We’ll work together on whatever you want to learn.
[He looks over the routes Alucard has detailed.]
You’ve been very thorough with your planning. I usually prefer the routes by land; you experience more of the place, and see more of the wildlife. But boat is the faster option, and I don’t want to slow us down just so I can collect samples along the way.
[He should select the fastest route, and get himself to the castle where he can devote himself to his studies. This kissing business is a wrinkle in his scholastic ambitions, and he can’t quite bring himself to care.]
[Lab partner gets a soft, chuffed noise from the dhampir. What a way to phrase it. What a thing that the vampire falls for it.
At any rate, he considers the routes again in light of the information, and the answer seems rather clear:]
I'll expect you to be more than a little distracted with land routes then. There will be plenty of time with my father for that, and in truth, I think he'd rather us return home soon too.
[Hector peels himself from the wall. He could try to explain to Alucard that having someone so innocent demand kisses from him would be flattering, indeed exhilarating, but he's not going to keep talking when Alucard has opened the path straight to kissing.
Hector steps forward and hooks a finger into the front of Alucard's shirt to tug him forward. He brings their lips together as an answer to Alucard's question.]
[That is an extremely clear answer. One that doesn't surprise the dhampir as much as it did yesterday, because when Hector kisses him, Alucard knows what to do. He parts his lips far faster, and is bolder still: he dares to press his tongue against Hector's lips, wanting to explore further.
His hands remain above Hector's waist, settling on his chest instead. There's no grabbing, not yet, but there is an appreciation for the warmth below.]
[Hector chuckles against Alucard's mouth. Alucard may be sheltered, but he's not as much of a statue as he sometimes looks.
Hector parts his lips, giving Alucard free reign to explore as much as he wants. His arms loop over Alucard's shoulders and his fingers trail up and down his shoulder blades, reveling in the solidity of the dhampir's physical form.
He's been forbidden from trespassing below the belt, but he does shift so his knee bumps between Alucard's, just to bring them a little closer together.]
[Alucard's fingers curl into the fabric of Hector's shirt, and rather than remain still, he backs up. Slowly. Carefully. Guiding Hector over so that Alucard's back is against the wall and Hector's weight is a pleasant warmth against him.
His tongue is far more probing than the previous night, full of confidence he runs it against Hector's.]
[Oh? Bold move, Alucard. This definitely feels like a trap, and Hector doesn’t even care. He leans against Alucard, keeping still so the movement doesn’t turn lewd. His hands slip from Alucard’s back to his hips.
Alucard is pinned to the wall, though Hector has no illusions that Alucard couldn’t move him if he chose. Hector plays on the dynamic and starts to push back against Alucard’s inquisitive tongue, fighting for dominance of the kiss.]
[He can be bold when he wants to. Or when he feels cold and would like just a little bit more warmth, thank you very much.
The hands on his hips are fine indeed. Alucard's own hands tug at the fabric of Hector's shirt, then one settles for groping at his chest beneath. It's not elegant, but it is a strong indicator that Alucard is most certainly interested in the chest area.
He'll allow Hector's tongue to start the Tongue War. But Alucard presses back as good as he gets, the sensation of the struggle absolutely fascinating in and of itself.]
[When Hector pulls back, Alucard takes the moment not just to breath, but to push his own tounge against fangs, testing their sharpness. They've been careful so far, but he wants to assess the risk better.
But shit. That thumb causes him to arch up into and against Hector, the reaction new and unexpected and quite welcome. His own hand doesn't mirror the gesture, not yet, but he'll follow through with it in just a few moments.
His response is soft, but firm.]
Not yet. [He's made the determination only partly due to the shadow of Dracula.] In due time.
[Hector, your thirst and the dhampir's attempts at boundaries might be a problem.]
[Its not that Hector can’t be patient; it’s just hard when Alucard reacts so deliciously to every new move.
Hector slides his hand back down to the relative safety of Alucard’s waist and kisses his way down Alucard’s neck. The dhampir’s collar is low enough that his neck isn’t in the forbidden zone.]
I don’t suppose you’ve ever been bitten before....
[The attention to Alucard's neck gets a softer set of noises that are quick to betray exactly how much Alucard's enjoying the sensation. One hand moves to bury itself in Hector's hair, and even tugs gently to try and keep him where he is.]
No. [There's such a warmth in his voice now, brought on by that attention.] That isn't the typical order of operations.
I’m going to hazard a guess, [he whispers against Alucard’s skin between kisses] that if I put a mark on you, it will be healed by the time we reach the castle.
[If not, Alucard better get to know and love scarves. Hector parts his lips and presses his blunt, human teeth against the pale flesh there. If kisses can win him those soft, sweet noises, Hector is dying to know what some pressure and suction can net.]
[Hector's about to learn just how quickly a vampire can regenerate. And probably find it an absolute blessing all things considered.
But soft and sweet? No. Loud and sweet, or at least louder. The first squeal of delight has too much volume, and the second is Alucard desperately trying to walk back the reaction and keep things muted.]
!!!!
[And if he arches up a little against Hector, so be it.]
[Hector varies between pressing his teeth and soothing the worried flesh with his tongue. Alucard is tying to keep still and quiet, yet, but Hector is having a grand time making it difficult for him.
...although if Alucard keeps rocking against him and making those noises, Hector is going to need more than a long walk on the cold deck to cool his blood once they stop.
He gives the column of Alucard’s neck a long lick before relinquishing it.]
Shhh, we have neighbors.
[Which for Hector, that just adds to the thrill. Hopefully Alucard is more responsible and respectable.]
[Hector, you're probably better off going to a bath in Istanbul and getting a few minutes alone after all of this. Just don't invite the vampire.
Alucard's skin begins to heal the moment that Hector's teeth leave it, until there's no indication that there was ever even an attempt to mark the flesh. It means that this sort of carrying on can continue, so long as the dhampir manages to mute himself. Which seems to be a struggle all things considered, as even the long breath he lets out all but echoes.]
Trying.
[His head is against the wall, and shit. Alucard's realized his knees are shaking.]
[Make outs for science are very important. Which means that Alucard is not sure what Hector's thinking, but the pressure of the bite is more than he bargined for. The gasp is sharper, with less pleasure in it.]
Careful. I don't know if I can turn people with my blood.
[Hector kisses around the healing bite mark in apology. He now has even more questions, but there's not a good way to test that particular theory right now.]
Sorry. I'll be careful.
[He keeps his kisses gentle for now, light presses and flicks of his tongue to erase the pain.]
[This is better. Although Alucard does inch even closer, missing the warmth that being pinned against the side of the ship by Hector's weight brought. His hands resettle in Hector's hair, and ah.
The morning sees them make port, and once Alucard sees to their travel plans for the next day, Hector leaves the dog’s in the safety of a rented room in an inn and drags Alucard out for sight-seeing. Literally, he is tugging the cuff of Alucard’s sleeve to pull him along.]
A day is scarcely time for everything. There’s the library, of course, and the church has architecture impressive enough to merit a visit —can you enter a church? — and we’re spoiled for options for food. Did you like the baklava? I can get better for you here.
[He’s talking a mile a minute, wanting to make sure Alucard is impressed.]
[Istanbul is a city of minarets, a riot of colors, a true crossroads of humanity. Alucard can pick out so many languages as they walk. He wants to just stare at the architecture, for what's here? It's a mad mix of the Byzantines and their golden mosaics, the stately ruins of ancient Rome, the wild organic intricacies of the Ottoman understanding of art and how it combines with their faith.
But they've eaten poorly on the journey, and that seems the best place to start.]
Something more substantial than baklava, I think.
[He's shed his coat for the day, opting for a simple tunic and his trousers, blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.]
And yes, I can enter churches and mosques. If we're permitted in is another question entirely though. [But also:] Perhaps we'd be wise to see if any of the ḥammāms permit westerners as well. I'm developing a fine patina of sea salt.
[Hector missed a step, and stumbles before he recovers his balance.]
Is that...something you want to do together?
[Hector has lived in places with public path houses before, and there isn’t anything inherently sexual about them...but at the same time, naked. Naked with Alucard. It’s both the best and worst idea ever.]
Food, then we can figure out if there’s a ḥammām that will take us.
[The smell of sweets and savory meats can lead even a human nose to market food stalls.]
Try whatever you want. I recall favoring the kol böreği last time I was here. I’ll get another and you can try it.
[Yeah Hector, he definitely caught that reaction. Alucard's thoughtful sounding enough about it though, making it sound less like a judgement and closer to an honest consideration. On the topic of food, Alucard's eyes return to the street around him. Considering. And then reaching a simple conclusion:]
Why don't we split up for fifteen minutes, find what we can, and then meet back up with whatever bounty we have? It'll let us cover more culinary ground.
[Probably for the best, for the sake of Hector's sanity. He nods at Alucard.
And Alucard? Splitting up is not how you do a date. You're supposed to walk together, bumping shoulders and sampling one another's purchases. This is what Hector gets for trying to stealthily date a novice.]
Alright, if that's how you want to do it. Meet back here, and make sure you keep an eye on your money purse. There are always pickpockets around markets like this.
[He shouldn't feel worried about leaving Alucard to his own devices. Alucard made his way to Hector's island on his own, and he is physically stronger and more magically inclined than anyone he could possibly run into. He's just...so sheltered.]
[Look. Look! How is he supposed to know how to do a date!]
Of course.
[Which means that for 15 minutes, Alucard is left to his own devices. He's already been in the city walls once before heading to Hector, but he had focused only on getting the right ships. With all the time he has now? He spends almost all of it distracted in a bookseller's shop (helpfully next to a place selling food.)
When Alucard returns? He has three books and one large thing of lahmacun that is folded on itself like a calzone.]
[Hector is relieved when Alucard returns. When he sees what Alucard brings with him, he sighs and shakes his head. Oh, Alucard, you nerd.]
At least if I lose you, I know where to look.... I got a few dishes to share. There's some shade by the gate where we can sit.
[Hector can supervise to make sure Alucard eats instead of reading through their break. He's not used to being the responsible one. Heaven help them both.
Hector has a couple of offerings. He has his kol böreği pastry, a tantuni, and a couple of desserts- the greatly anticipated baklava, a couple of kaymakli kayisi apricots, and a handful of sticky lokma wrapped up in a cloth.
Apparently the main bazaar has an entire area dedicated to books of all sorts and languages.
[Sorry Hector. He's going. You'll have to go with him or go to the baths.
The gate Hector says, and Alucard starts walking in that direction. He's going to occupy himself on the ship with his new books, not now.
Once he settles down against the gate, Alucard does move the book aside. His own selection pales in comparison with Hector's, and for a moment he feels overwhelmed with overabundance. It takes a few moments to make a selection, but finally Alucard gets started. Kol böreği first, and Alucard's noise of delight at it says everything.]
We may want to invest in a few of these for the boat ride...
I think I saw a few things in Greek. Plenty in Latin, if that's also something you have a reading knowledge of.
[Alucard doesn't actually know. For all the time they've spent together lately, the more academic questions have been eschewed. There'sthe reason of but the dogs tho, and then there's the kissing.
But Alucard keeps eating, careful not to take more than half. Hector needs to eat as well.]
Can't you tell them not to and be listened thanks to how the forge works?
[He can't speak Latin, but reading he can manage with time and a reference book. He needs to brush up on it in preparation for Dracula's grand library, but definitely not in front of any of the Ţepeşes.
Once Alucard has sampled the dishes, Hector begins to eat. They're going to need energy for all of the book shopping and architectural tourism they'll be doing today.]
I could, but I won't. They're living creatures. [basically] I try to let them act freely, unless it endangers them. [or occasionally if it interferes with kissing a very hot dhampir].
There may be specialty shops that focus on only one language. We'll have to see.
[Yeah, he sounds more than a little excited about that possibility.
Alucard's approach to their feast is to take a little of one dish, move onto the next, and then return to where he's started. It's a careful rotation, although one he fully admits is odd. Truly it's just to keep any one set of flavors from being overwhelming.]
Ah, I see. Well, there may be foods we bring back that are not safe for dogs to eat.
[Hector can’t help but smile into his lunch at Alucard’s enthusiasm for book shopping. Hector’s interests are...niche, to put it delicately, so he often goes away from booksellers disappointed. Seeing Alucard so hopeful and excited...it makes the world feel like a kinder place than Hector has experienced.]
Books before our bath? If you want to spend more time here, we could delay our departure another day.
[He knows Alucard is eager to be home and assure his parents of his safety, but Hector doesn’t want him to go away having missed out on anything.
It’s totally just that and not also the niggling fear that Dracula will take one look at him, know he’s been kissing his son and heir, and put a clawed fist through his heart.]
Do you want me to order the dogs not to eat your snacks?
I can always come back. [Perhaps that's a little too optimistic. But Alucard does want to return home sooner rather than later, and to delay departure might impact all the other time tables they must take advantage of once they reach Wallachia itself.] Baths are more important when traveling.
[He hasn't had a real bath in a while, Hector. He hates it.]
Mmmm, I think that might be required. But only this once.
[Probably best to go bathe before they are laden with more books, unless they are taking a trip back to their rooms midday.]
Ok, but really, just the once. I don't want to make a habit of it.
[He has the power that could wreck havoc on the world, but his temperament prevents it. Hector prefers to let everyone be, as long as they aren't actively harming him or his.]
Are you ready for dessert?
[He holds up a lokma between thumb and forefinger. Just platonically offering to hand feed a friend, totally not a date.]
We still have to carry all of them. [He shakes his head gently at that.] I'll be fine. I promise.
[And that's that, in the end. Alucard has always been fine. There's no reason to presume that things will change, not really.
But as for desert? Alucard's eyes linger on the lokma for a moment, ready to insist that Hector need not hold it like that, but...it's far too thick with honey, and there's no merit in both of them getting sticky yet.
So he leans down and takes a bite. What if his lips accidentally brush against Hector's fingers in the process?]
[Hector’s heart skips a beat when Alucard indulges him and takes the honeyed morsel from his fingers. While his fingers are still sticky with honey and saliva, he picks up a second lokma and brings it to his own lips. Delicious.]
We’ll come back.
[He promises, because ‘fine’ is a state to be endured, not something that you should aim for. He offers another dessert for Alucard to sample.]
It's entirely likely we'll have to. Istanbul is the crossroads of trade, and...well. [Alucard pauses, considering phrasing.] They are trying to invade Wallachia and the kingdoms around it. Dealing with the Ottomans will be inevitable.
[You know what? He's just going to shut up and take that send lokma. Probably smarter.]
Well, if they try to enter your father's lands, they'll soon learn their lesson.
[The Ottoman Empire may be vast, but they are no Dracula.
Hector lowers his hands.]
Do you not like them? Or do you not like this?
[Maybe they are attracting the odd stare, but Hector's enjoying himself. He's sure Alucard looks handsome and noble enough that he could be mistaken for a servant feeding his lord.]
In fairness, I suspect he'll just move up into the mountains for a time.
[Alucard is also well aware that his mother will want to offer medical aid instead. He's not looking forward to watching this particular fight, and hopefully it can be avoided. it won't be.
Alucard pauses, tucking a few stray strands of hand.]
Neither. But I am capable of feeding myself and I think it unfair for only you to have sticky fingers.
[Hector makes a noncommittal hum. Human politics mean little to him; for all of the variations between their practices and policies, most civilizations agree that they won’t suffer a necromancer to live.]
Your father has the right idea, not tying himself down to a single place and having to weather the changing tides.
[Hector steals a piece of baklava for himself, then starts to wipe his fingers clean.]
So is that how you want to spend our time on the boat? I’m not opposed.
[The mental image of Alucard, draped on a couch, accepting morsels from Hector’s fibgertips... um, bath soon? Cold bath soon??]
[Well, Hector will learn about Lisa's politics soon enough. Until then, he can live blissfully unaware that his soon-to-be haven may not be as safely remote as he imagines it.]
I imagine we'll take some breaks. Knowing how sweet you'll taste, I'll need to stop to kiss you.
[Also, you know, sleeping, dog petting. The essentials.
God, Hector can feel his face going red, talking about it so blatantly. He pushes himself up and dusts himself off.]
We should see about that bath, otherwise we won't be presentable enough to get into the libraries.
[OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT HECTOR THAT'S LAYING IT ON THICK too bad Alucard feels himself go a little red anyway. Unfair. So he's going to just. Try and get past that very quickly, and thank God for Hector standing up. Alucard takes a moment to gather up their leftovers (not there there are many), not keen to let them go to waste.]
I believe that there's one a few blocks down? [There's a helpless little shrug.] Unfortunately I don't know the city's geography well.
[You Tried Star. Alucard starts to walk though, hoping his guess is right.]
[Look, Hector's got to lay it on thick or else they're not going to get anywhere. Until Alucard learns to pick up on more subtle hints, Hector's weapon of choice is a metaphorical two-by-four.
For now, though, he's tapped out, and he needs to recover some shame before he does any more flirting. He goes the way Alucard indicated, because Alucard is way smarter than he is and probably did his research, right?]
We'll try it. If we can't find it, you can ask someone for directions.
To perhaps no one's surprise, it does come to that. Alucard's quick to realize that if they walk too far one way or another, they're liable to become lost in the city's layout, and so he makes a choice: goes back to the bookstore and asks the shop keeper there. The man had a few texts in Latin, it stands to reason he might know.
And he does. It's a walk, the man says, but well worth it. A walk that sends the two onward for about half a mile before they get to where they need to be, and then there's reason to pause outside of it.]
[Hector looks up at the towering door of the bathhouse. It is one of the larger ones in the city, one that will accept travelers and outsiders.
Inside is going to be a maze of hallways and steam rooms and closets.
It’s not like Hector has to worry about Alucard’s safety. Intellectually, he knows that Alucard has more power than he does, that he could kill any man that threatened him, or more likely dissolve into mist and remove himself from the situation.
...but he is also a hopelessly sheltered, breathtakingly beautiful man who had never been kissed before Hector, and Hector has concerns about leaving him alone in a building full of naked men.
But it is not his call.]
If you think it best. I won’t deny you your privacy, if that’s what you want.
[That requires clothing, and Alucard knows he'd be comfortable getting a read on the place and understanding the norms better. Easy enough, and Alucard smiles softly at Hector in an attempt to be reassuring.]
[Hector nods, tries to forcibly eject the demons of worry from his brain, and turns down one of the hallways to find a pool.
Turkish baths are always a delight, but Hector can't relax. He scrubs and rinses, and tries to make himself presentable, but there is no lounging and soaking in the heat. There is still too much to show Alucard in the city. No one bothers him, or even gives him much notice, but he's not the one who is ethereally handsome.
With the dirt and funk of travel scrubbed off of him and his hair washed and combed, Hector dresses and returns to find Alucard in one of the lounges with his tea.]
Look, there was a man under that sea spray all this time.
[He wishes he'd thought to bring nicer clothes...or that he owned nicer clothes, so maybe he could impress Alucard. The struggle of life as a hermit.]
[Alucard finds a nice corner of the waiting area for himself, and it is there that he curls up with some of the tea on offer and simply sits observing. It's different, being here. Watching old friends embrace, some men fight over a chess game in a low, fussy way that suggests that this is not the first or the last argument, just. All of it. And he understands why his mother wants himself and his father to be out in the world instead of apart from it.
His hands are holding an empty glass when Hector does return. He's refilled twice, and a third is probably ill advised. More than that though, Alucard looks up at Hector with a soft smile on his lips. One that matches the laugh that leaves his throat.]
So there was. [But Alucard takes that as an opportunity to stand.] I'll have to go on a like journey of discovery it seems. I promise to try and make it quick.
[No promises.
On the other hand Hector, you can sit and think about how to ask Dracula for better clothes...]
[God, Hector is pathetic. That small smile, that little chuckle, and Hector feels like he could melt into the floor.]
Take your time. The water's fine. I'll be here when you're done.
[Hector can sit and let a cup of tea grow cold in his hands while he tries to not panic about how Dracula is going to know he's got a hopeless crush on his son the second he crosses the threshold of the castle. Is impaling as painful as they say? He's probably going to find out.]
[Well, mom's there, so there probably won't be impalement.
Either way, Alucard does end up taking his time. It's closer to half an hour, and most of it is the novelty of the heated stones that can be used for lying down on. His own body temperature, running as cool as it does, means that absorbing heat and having something like a normal human's temperature? That's an absolute novelty, and one he rather enjoys.
But there's salt to be rid of and a long journey ahead, so Alucard forces himself upright and scrubs through all the build up. Moreover, he takes advantage of the deep pools to truly wash out his hair, and oh, it feels so much better.
He finds Hector again, hair sodden but looking otherwise immaculate.]
I think that next time, I'm going to have to allocate more time for this place.
[Hector will show Alucard other ways to warm his body up any time he wants.
Even with wet hair, Alucard looks perfect, and Hector has the horrible impulse to muss him up. He resists nobly.]
I hear your castle has some fine baths. You won't suffer too much until you can come back. You did want to go back to the book market, didn't you?
[He's absolutely dangling that carrot on a stick to make sure Alucard doesn't go away feeling too bad that they rushed through this part of their journey.]
[It would be but Hector think about how loud the dhampir probably will be.]
We should focus on the pastries.
[Alucard makes a point to get a few heartier and meatier options in addition to more sweets, aware that they have a voyage ahead and that there may be rats on the boat.
The boat is mostly of luxury goods, and Alucuard has parlayed passage by offering his own sword as a means of protection. Such as it is, their room is a little larger than last, with an uncomfortable mattress of hay or a hammock. Alucard's certain that the hammock will be more comfortable.
They leave in the evening light. Alucard's happy enough to eat some of their own provisions rather than take from the crew, and when all is said and done, he flops backwards, his head on the mattress and the rest of him on the floor.]
You come from a castle. You shouldn't be sleeping on the floor.
[If he thought he could convince Alucard to share the mattress with him, he might try, but that seems even less likely than the two of them in the hammock.
He's pleased that Alucard checked the structure of the hammock before rejecting the idea.]
You just got yourself clean. Take the hammock.
[Hector trusts the dogs to keep the rats off him while he sleeps.]
You did as well, but I won't fight you further about this.
[But he isn't getting up either. There are dogs to pet, but Alucard's eyes meet Hector's, quietly asking why he's still standing when he could be down here, cuddled up against the dhampir.]
[Hector rolls his eyes at Alucard's look, but he absolutely joins Alucard half-on the mattress and in cuddle range. He scoots up against Alucard's side and reaches an arm across him to scratch Cesar's head.]
You know, you still haven't shown me your transformation.
[Hector is weak, Alucard. He needs to pet all the dogs.]
[Look Hector this has been a journey of vampiric self discovery and one thing Alucard has walked away with is that he really, really enjoys being snuggled.]
That's true, I haven't.
[Watching Cesar react to the attention, Alucard hums thoughtfully.]
In a few more hours. Once it's certain the ship is at rest.
[Well, Alucard is in the right place, sandwiched between two dogs on one side and one Hector on the other, the two sides of which are reaching across him to pet. Hector nuzzles his face into Alucard's neck, inhaling the scent of soaps and oils from the bath.]
That's a promise, and I'm holding you to it.
[So, that means that they both have some time to kill, and that Hector shouldn't wear himself out on petting just yet. He wonders if Alucard the wolf will smell as good as Alucard the dhampir.]
[Alucard shifts and wiggles a little to adjust the new (warm, wonderful) weight on his neck, but that's truly all he fusses with. There's a content sigh that follows, and you know what?
He would be just fine if this was the entire voyage. Curled up, being held, petting dogs.]
I would expect no less. But I'll smell closer to wet dog, you know.
[Hector is hoping for more before the end of this journey --he has so much to teach Alucard-- but for now, after some hours of running around the city on their errands, he's content with just this as well.]
Wet dog smell's no deal breaker.
[He scoops Cesar up and deposits him on Alucard's stomach for easier access. Antonius immediately fills the vacated space at Alucard's other side. The dhampir is truly being cuddled on all fronts now, on this sad gross straw mattress.]
You are the first and only person who will ever utter those words.
[Even Alucard can't stand his own wet dog smell. But that's hardly the point. The point is dogs, and he's so happy to move a hand to pet under Cesar's chin. This? This is probably spoiled in spite of the nightmare of a mattress.
So he stays snuggled up for an hour more, and then he nudges Hector gently with his elbow.]
Everyone else needs to learn to appreciate dogs more.
[Hector grumbles into the crook of Alucard's shoulder. Smelling wet dog means you have been graced with the presence of a dog, which is always a good thing.
When the time comes, Hector lifts Cesar again and whistles for Antonius to come to him, then rolls from his side to his back, giving Alucard a precious foot of space free of man and undead dogs.]
Am I allowed to watch?
[He doesn't know what the transformation will entail, but he's wildly curious.]
I can't say that there's much to observe, in truth.
[Alucard draws himself up, and he walks a few steps. It's as he moves that the transformation occurs, perhaps too fast, perhaps with too little fanfare. His features shift, morph, become elongated and then more canine, until a large wolf is standing there, tail curled up very slightly.
That same wolf then walks right back over to Hector, aware that there's only 1 reaction here: pet the dog.[
[Hector's reaction is to pet the dog while also asking every imaginable question- where did the clothes go? Does Alucard's weight remain the same? Can dogs see in color?
Cesar and Antonius immediately abandon Hector to examine this new friend who smells alike-but-different from Friend Alucard. They bump against him and sniff and playfully dart around him, an invitation to play.
Meanwhile, Hector is examining the wolf form as he strokes and scratches. Alucard appears, by all metrics Hector can measure, to be an honest to God wolf. The pelt, the bone structure, even the large paw pads and extra digit on the front paws.
Needless to say, Hector is thoroughly petting this dog and he is delighted.]
[Hector's questions do get a soft growl of response, because Hector he can't reply??? Like this?????
But he is happy to sniff at Cesar and Antonious. Paw at them, sniff, but he doesn't play until Hector is done Examining The Wolf. Then the wolf is happy to just move and dart a little, not exactly giving chase but definitely helping the other two to get in a bit of exercise.
And again at the question, there's a soft huff! He has to be a person to reply you know!]
[The dogs have been troopers on this journey so far, and Hector eventually withdraws so they Alucard can help them get some of their pent-up energy out.]
Now you’ll definitely be their favorite.
[There’s no weight behind the teasing, though. Hector can’t blame his pets. Alucard is his favorite too.]
[Alucard snuffles for that, but you know what? It's so much fun to run with the dogs that he keeps at it until it seems the other two are going to slow down. There's not much jumping about on Alucard's part, just quick movement to give chase, and then letting the other two run themselves mad. It's stupidly endearing. A reminder of why it's nice to not be human some days.
But it all winds down, and when that happens, Alucard settles back down beside Hector, now human.
[Hector watches the canines at play, absurdly fond. It's almost scary, how much he doesn't mind his dear pets cozying up to someone other than himself. Hector has often felt content in his cabin on the island, but rarely happy.
He lets his arms wind around Alucard and nestles his nose into the back of his neck the way Alucard seems to like.]
I suppose I can let spoil them, as long as you're staying near me and not luring them away.
[Because that's the fear, that Alucard will decide he likes traveling more than he likes Hector and go off on his own fabulous adventures after he drops Hector off at the castle.
The point of action for that is to make sure Alucard is well versed in all the benefits of his presence.]
They'll have a lot more space to explore soon. That might spoil them more than anything I put effort into.
[Alucard lets out a very low, pleased noise at Hector's nose finding just the right spot to rest on. It's nice, having that warmth and weight pressed against his neck. Alucard moves one hand down, brushing it over Hector's gently.
All of this is nice. Traveling has been wonderful, as has learning the various ways to become comfortable in such close quarters. Future trips probably won't have companions, but...
...thoughts for later.]
Are you comfortable?
[They are technically half on and half off a horrible little mattress and the floor.]
[The castle is both a dream and a looming spectre. Reaching it will mark the beginning of a real education, more opportunity than Hector ever hoped he'd receive. It also means the end of this journey. He won't know how he fares in the exchange til he reaches his destination.]
I could make myself more comfortable.
[He tugs Alucard, vaguely further into the mattress but mostly closer. It's a shit mattress, but it's better than half a shit mattress.]
[Vaguely further but definitely warmer. That's one of the things Alucard has come to appreciate most from this arrangement: warmth. Running at low temperatures is all well and good, but sometimes all one wants is to be held against something warmer.
[Warmth isn’t all Alucard is going to get from him though all he has to do is say the word and Hector will really heat him up. Hector slides his hand up Alucard’s chest, caressing through his shirt. He parts his lips and begins to tease the skin of Alucard’s neck with tongue and teeth.]
[Alucard knows by now what that means, but he can't help but play just a little dumb. It makes the sigh of absolute contentment and delight that follows all the better. Makes the fact that it's Alucard who starts to tangle their legs together all the better.
His hands are far, far more confident now, knowing what they want and how to get it. One hand is quick to wind into Hector's hair, gently tugging him upwards to administer attention to a higher part of Alucard's neck. The other?
Well, Alucard's made his fondness for chests very clear alraedy. But Hector's already got a hand there, and the man does have a fine enough rear to grab and refuse to let go of.]
One morning you should actually wake me like this.
Configuration of limbs. It's very difficult to explore your chest at the moment.
[And it is, and more than that, Alucard's decided that Hector's chest may not be his best feature. There's another squeeze, ever so careful not to bruise, and the dhampir presses himself up against Hector further. He's hardly aware of the roll of his own hips.
They'll have to start moving below the belt at this point, if only because that's the remaining unexplored territory.]
Mmm, perhaps not. I'll expect it when I'm home, and that's a dangerous path.
[If butts are on the table, Hector isn’t holding back. He’ll stay above the clothes, but one hand slides down and grips Alucard’s otherworldly ass.
Alucard’s squeeze is met with an approving groan. This one doesn’t mind if there are bruises. He slips a leg between Alucard’s to give them a little more friction as they move together.]
[Alucard has the good sense not to reply with you've met my father, right?
Instead he just buries his face into what he can reach of Hector's head, angle terrible since Hector is still lavishing attention to the dhampir's neck.]
Within reason.
[He hasn't quite clocked Hector's general lack of planning.
What Alucard has clocked is the fact he very, very much likes having his ass squeezed, and there's no groan from him. There is instead another roll of his hips, this time grinding down against Hector's leg. The motion is coupled with a soft sigh, and the feeling of heat in Alucard's cheeks.]
That's-- [Alucard breathes out, aware that he's rolling his hips harder against Hector.]
Too many options.
[There. Those are the only three words he manages for a few intense moments, aware that his heart is moving faster. Something closer to human than his usual slow beat. It's enough for him to at least decide.]
[Hector grins, the cat that got the cream. He pulls them onto the mattress properly, then starts up a real rhythm of thrusts. His arousal prods into Alucard's thigh, and this hand on his ass urges Alucard to keep moving to meet him.]
Good, you're so good...
[He presses his lips to Alucard's, tangling tongues together, incautious of the fangs. When he finally draws back for breath, he kisses his way to Alucard's ear again.]
I'm going to unfasten your trousers. No point in making a mess of your clothes when you just got clean.
[It's purely that and not at all that Hector is dying to get his hand around Alucard's cock.]
[Oh fuck what did he just unleash? Besides Hector's dick, that much is plain.
Alucard's not surprised that they're both pulled onto the mattress. What takes him aback, truly aback, is how quickly Hector speeds up his thrusts. It's not that Alucard can't keep up, it's just the realization that Hector's truly thought this out. Must have thought out a while ago and--
--lips catch lips and with everything so overwhelming, Alucard's response is without it's usual caution. There's a moment where his fang catches something, and a thin stream of blood joins the embrace. A stream that Alucard's innate hunger is quick to seize upon, his tongue moving to the spot and licking at it as hungrily as Hector is pursuing the rest of this.
He's utterly breathless when Hector pulls away. At some point in all of his his hands have found purchase in Hector's hair and at his hip, vaguely aware that they're points where he can exert control if he needs to.]
What of your own? Your state is the same as mine.
[Sure Hector. It's totally that. That and the lack of consideration for Dracula's reaction.]
[Hector has to let go of Alucard to begin working his pants open, though his lips stay at Alucard's neck, the way he knows the dhampir likes. The copper taste of his own blood doesn't phase him.]
If you want, I can do the same to myself, but I can wait and take care of mine when you're done. I'm already pushing you. You can't learn every lesson in a single session.
[He should slow down, but reason is out the door at this point. Unless Alucard tells him to stop, he is determined to see Alucard to completion.
He works open the lacing of Alucard's pants and slips his hand inside to wrap around the shaft of Alucard's cock.]
[There's some kind of protest Alucard wants to wage, something about fairness probably, but it absolutely dies as Hector takes hold of him. There's something warm and wonderful around his half hard cock, and just adjusting to that takes a lot.
It isn't something he reacts to silently either. There's a short, sharp gasp of breath, along with the reminder that he still has his fingers threaded in Hector's hair. He pulls as a part of natural reaction, but thankfully not at vampire strength.
Alucard tries another breath to steady himself, but it comes out shaky instead. It's a breath that's painfully aware that he's growing harder in Hector's hand, and rutting against it to quicken the process]
I don't know how quietly I can manage--
[He knows that much of himself from his own experimentation.]
[Hector guides Alucard's length free of the fabric constraining it and rubs his thumb over the head. He grunts as his hair is tugged, and he slows the movements of his hips.]
It's alright, we'll keep your mouth occupied.
[He trusts Alucard can make his protests known other ways if he decides he wants to bring this to a halt. Hector kisses his way across Alucard's jaw and cheek until he claims his lips again. Once he has his mouth sealed over Alucard's, he gives another squeeze.]
[It's the only word he manages to get out before Hector's lips meet his again. Alucard murmurs something else, but it's all vibrations like this. Vibrations that quickly develop into a groan that he fears might be reverberating not in the back of Alucard's own throat, but Hector's, just from the sheer volume of it.
Because shit, it is loud, and that's only in reaction to being squeezed, mixed in with the fact Alucard's hips press the full of himself closer to Hector.
The hand that isn't in Hector's hair finally moves. Slides up Hector's shirt so that Alucard's fingers can run up the skin of Hector's spine, usually cool flesh running at perfectly human temperatures now.]
[Alucard's moans are gratifyingly earnest. He swallows them up. Between the seal of his mouth and the barred door (and his own recklessness), he is less concerned than Alucard about being overheard.
He pumps his fist up and down the hardening length, feeling for Alucard's reaction in his movements and the vibrations of his grunts. He doesn't know how Alucard likes to touch himself, so he moves by trial and error, alternating fast and slow, gentle strokes and hard tugs, learning and evolving his technique as he goes. His own cock is hard against Alucard's thigh, seeking out the rare warmth of Alucard's body.]
[It's the slow gestures that cause Alucard's moans reverberate more. For his hips to drive forward, fully aroused and blissfully without the embarrassment that he thought would be a companion for a moment like this.
Alucard's hand presses down against Hector's back. Fingers curl there, so, so careful not to let nails grow. Any other sort of scratch would be just fine, but Alucard knows his fingernails are closer to razors. It would be cruel to inject that sort of pain into the moment, especially now.
He tries to angle his hips up just a little more. Trying to have Hector's hand close to his own cock, so that Alucard's thrusts can touch him in burn. It's fair. It's right. Important to give, because he's getting so, so much right now.]
[Hector adapts his movements to maximize the response. Slow and teasing wins the day, it seems. Hector can work with that. He lets his fingers loosen and trail lower, caressing the sensitive skin of Alucard's balls.
Alucard's angling has him shuddering and biting back his own moans. Hector should've known a prodigy like Alucard wouldn't be content to merely audit the class.
They both know by now that Hector's willpower has the integrity of a sand castle. He uses his other hand to start unfastening his own pants so he can stroke both of them together. His mouth stays on Alucard's, a safeguard against alerting the outside world.]
[Alucard has just enough sense left in him to detect that Hector's trying to do something. He can feel some of the movement, and to that end, Alucard manages to slow his hips by a fraction.
Waiting is a tricky proposition. He doesn't manage it, not with Hector's fingers moving lower and okay he definitely likes having his balls touched. By a lot if the fact he actually pulls away in order to gasp for breath is any indication.
But he takes that moment to get air back into his lungs. He needs it. Alucard knows his heart is hammering now, knows he's feverish, and that whatever Hector does next, he isn't liable to last long.]
[Luckily for Alucard, he doesn't have to wait long. Hector frees his dick and brushes the two shafts together, relishing the heat of skin to skin contact. He gives Alucard's balls one last tickle, then gets his hand as far around their cocks as he can.
Lips seal over the dhampir's to swallow any sound as Hector's movements resume. Hector's blood is rushing in his veins, hot and thrumming. This will be quick, but Hector's hoping it's impactful.]
[Alucard's best attempts to not dig nails into flesh fails as Hector strokes them together. But those nails remain blunt as he scratches at Hector's spine, having just enough of himself left to manage that.
And he is gone otherwise. Nothing but a mess of noises pressed into Hector's mouth, some short and too quick, others long and wanting, rising from the very pit of his belly. And all the while he thrusts into Hecctor's hand, the heat of his skin finally causing sweat. Undoing the glories of the bath.
It takes precious little else for him to finish with a great shout that he swears must end up reverberating against Hector's own vocal chords. He's pressed up against the other man as much as he can be, and if the way Alucard all but yanks on Hector's hair is a problem, well, he'll apologize in just a few moments.]
[Oh, the hair pulling and the scratch of nails is the opposite of a problem. Hector's breaths are ragged pants as he coaxes Alucard through his climax, and the moment the dhampir stills, Hector releases him and grasps his own organ. A few hard, frantic strokes, and he follows Alucard over the peak.
He pulls back from Alucard's lips and lets his flushed forehead come to rest on Alucard's shoulder.
Well, the good news is, it's not like they made the mattress any more of a mess than it was before.
The bad news is, Dracula is 100% going to kill him.]
[Oh Hector. Dracula's just going to make you wish you were dead. That's an importance difference.
Alucard lies there, feeling his hammering heart slow down it's pace. The warmth of himself starting to ebb, and becoming so keenly aware of everything going on around him.]
I definitely do not want to sleep on this mattress now.
[A chuckle breaks Hector's silence. He raises his head and gives Alucard's cheek a kiss, chaste after all of the explicit things he just did to him.]
I told you, sleep on the hammock.
[He feels around lazily and comes up with one of the threadbare blankets that were folded on the mattress before they started up their thrusting. He begins to clean them up.]
We'll have to find another bath when we reach the next port. Worth it, I hope.
[Even that kiss is a little overwhelming for the dhampir. There's a tired, muffled response that then becomes a soft groan as Alucard sits himself up slightly. It's his forearms that bear all his weight as he angles uwpwards to watch Hector fuss with the blankets.]
Worth it.
[He's still breathless.]
And as far as the mattress goes, I think I'll just take wolf form.
[Hector mops up the worst of the mess, then scoots himself back a little to give Alucard some breathing room. Some men don't like to be touched after they come.]
If you're sure.
[He rolls into his back and rakes his hand through his sweat-tangled hair.]
The minute I move, the dogs are going to steal my spot. Just so you're prepared.
[As if cuddling them was not part of the draw to taking the wolf form...]
Alucard inches back just a little bit, so that he's just brushing against Hector. Pressure is going to be overwhelming in a bad way, but this? This is good.]
[Hector lets his fingers brush lightly against the platinum strands of Alucard’s hair. He feels boneless and completely sated. It’s going to be a struggle to stay awake, the hammock and wolf forms be damned.]
Does the captain need you to report in early tomorrow?
[Alucard’s job is to repel any dangers the ship might face, so he’s not sure kind of hours it will run.]
[Alucard does drift off eventually. The ship is quiet. The dogs are snoring (which is adorable.) There is nothing but the soft rocking motion of the boat and the quiet of the sea to lull Alucard to sleep.
He rises quietly a little before dawn. One golden eye opens, then the next, and oh. His trousers are still open, he's utterly disheveled (guess who has amazing post-orgasm hair), and he has to work.]
[In spite of the terrible mattress, Hector sleeps like the dead. He means to try to wake up before Alucard so he can help wake him up, but awareness returns only when Alucard is already stirring beside him.]
'morning.
[And look, if Alucard is already disheveled, there's no harm in ruffling him up a little more. Hector rolls over and nuzzles into Alucard's neck.]
[Alucard's halfway to the thought of sitting up when Hector rolls right on over. The dhampir pauses, and damn his hands, the go right to grasping at Hector's side.]
Mmmm. [He's soft with that noise, never mind delighted.]
[Fair passage and all. With that, Alucard finally gets up, taking a few precious minutes to un-dishevel himself. That's important, and when he exits, he looks perfectly presentable. No sign that anything's happened at all.
So it goes. The sea is almost eventful when Alucard's keen eyes spot another ship over the horizon, but it's another trading vessel and they all move on without incident. He's good for catching things, and that? That's all there is for the day.
[Hector cleans himself up as well, and finds ways to pass the time so he don't spend the whole day wondering what else he can get away with. He takes a walk around the parts of the ship where he is permitted. He finds a dead rat, which he sneaks back into the room and animates. He lets the dogs chase it around the room until they tire- they really do need their exercise- before he lets the energy animating it dissipate. He finds a port hole to toss it out of, and the gulls take what they can of it before it drops into the ocean for the fish. It's the circle of life.
Before Alucard comes back, Hector does his best to tidy up the room. Alucard worked all day, even if there was no real need of it, and the least Hector can do it try to make him comfortable.
When Alucard returns to their cabin, Hector ushers him to sit down.]
Have you eaten? We still have a few of our pastries left.
[He circles around behind Alucard and starts to rub his shoulders. He isn't practiced with massage, but he does have a very thorough working knowledge of the musculature of the human body. Long day at work, take a load off, Alucard.]
[Alucard's more inclined to pet the dogs than to sit once entering the cabin, as he's sure he has been missed. But in being ushered to sit down that means the dogs have a lap to climb into instead, and so Alucard doesn't fight against sitting.
It's feels strange to be this...he doesn't think fawned over is correct. Focused on perhaps, and so with Hector's hands working at his back (Alucard would point out that his natural healing abilities means he experiences no aches or pains), his hands move to pet the dogs.]
I have eaten, and I was going to wait a bit before reaching for the baklava.
[They're Such Good Dogs. Which means scratches behind the ears from the dhampir.]>
I can save a few bits of meat from tomorrow's meal in the mean time.
[So. Much. Sausage. Alucard gets it, it's salted and will survive at sea, but still.
Also Hector. Hector please. Alucard's hum of interest is low, and he angles his head back so Hector can see the raised eyebrows on the dhampir's face.]
[Hector shrugs. He's behind Alucard, but still touching, so even if Alucard doesn't see it, he probably still knows.]
Well, I was here all day, with little to do. A few thoughts may have crossed my mind.
[He stops the massaging and gives Alucard's shoulders a pat instead. There is something more important that his thirst.]
What about you? Have you thought about...what happened last night?
[Hector thinks Alucard was alright with their shared experience, but there wasn't much time for the dhampir to process it before he left this morning. If they aren't on the same page anymore, Hector needs to rein himself in.]
[Hector's right. Alucard hasn't given it much thought, because his down time is well, now. And Hector's there, meaning that he hasn't truly processed anything.
[The dogs are good company. The best, and Alucard just keeps petting them, after he scootches back against the wall of the ship so he can sit up properly.
There's a lot to think about, but the future? That weighs the most heavily on his mind. As wonderful as fooling around is, and oh, last night was wonderful, they both have to think beyond this ship and the liminality of it.
No matter what thought, Alucard is sure that the rest of the voyage will be awkward.]
[Hector has his dinner on deck, under the night sky. There's only a skeleton crew on deck at this time of evening, so there's blessed quiet. He can see those rain clouds in the distance, as an absence of stars.
He has less worries about the future than Alucard. Yes, the circling around one another, trying to figure out how they fit can be awkward, but anything worth doing is worth putting effort into.
And he really likes Alucard. He should be miserable, being in such close quarters with someone else after having lived as a hermit, but he actually doesn't mind.
[When Hector walks back in, Alucard is instead lying on his side, petting the dogs. He's no longer thinking heavily, and his eyes are focused on the dogs themselves. They'll be around for a while yet, although Alucard doesn't know how easily they'll manage the castle and the many stairs there.]
Not at all. They were incredibly conducive to thinking, in truth.
[UMMM. Hector sits down beside Alucard so they can share the dogs.]
I don't know. I can't see into the future. But I'd like to keep spending time with you. Court you, maybe, if you wanted that. You're an adult. Your parents can't expect you to stay alone forever.
[He shrugs.]
It depends on what you want, Alucard. We can just be friends, or we can try for more than that.
[Sharing dogs is very important. Alucard softly nudges Cesar over in Hector's direction.]
I'm not sure I'm ready to be actually courted yet. [This all happened much too fast.] Please don't mistake me, this learning experience has been well. [There's a pause, and a soft, happy noise.] Remarkable.
[But what he wants. Alucard shakes his head.]
But that brings us to what I want, and I can't answer that yet. The world is wide and I've seen so little of it.
[Hector scoops up Cesar and flips him over so he can rub his belly.]
That would be far off. I just don’t want you to think that I’d bed you and abandon you. But if you want this to end when we reach our destination, I’ll put it out of my mind.
[Well, that’s a lie. He won’t stop thinking about it, but he won’t mention it again.]
[He smiles, feeling the awkwardness of the situation to begin to well and truly settle in. Alucard's gaze shifts to the floor, and he tries to shift and settle into this.]
...If you had plans, we could do them tonight and then enforce this tomorrow.
[Oh, Alucard, this is the path that is going to get both of you hurt.]
There is a long list of lessons I’d like to teach you. But if you’re uncertain, we’re going to let these dogs, eat our baklava, and then we can go over my Latin until you’re ready to sleep so I don’t look like a bumpkin in front of your genius parents.
[Because as much as Hector wants to smooch, he’s not going to push any more unless Alucard is 100% on board.]
[Yes. But the good news is? Mentioning parents is a sure fire way to bring Alucard back to sensible reality. So he nods, the proposed plan far smarter.]
The second one then. Although you won't look like a bumpkin, of that I can assure you.
[Hector rubs Cesar's paw pads, trying not to let any disappointment show. He'd rather be kissing Alucard, of course, but unless Alucard pursues it, rather than just letting himself be worn down by Hector, it can't happen.
And he likes talking with Alucard, as friends. It's preferable even to being able to cuddle the wolf.]
You say that, but you haven't heard my accent when I try to speak it. My only saving grace is that the language is dying.
I can muddles through the basic, but to speak about the sciences is harder.
[He’s sure he’s flubbing some of the declensions, and his vocabulary doesn’t get him as technical as he can go in Greek or Romanian. He knows his hosts will be equipped to communicate in his native tongue, but he’s also got thoughts turned to that promised library.]
[Ominous. Alucard's smile more than his words help reassure Hector.]
I suppose I should stick to Greek, then. That's the only chance I have of keeping up.
[He shouldn't be so nervous. He knows Dracula. But it'll be different when he reaches the castle as a guest. Especially when he is going in knowing he has deflowered his host's son....]
What about etiquette? What do I need to know before we arrive?
[See, they can fill their evening with things other than kissing. They just...need to keep busy, so they aren't tempted. Everything will be fine and not awkward.]
I...will be honest, I'm not sure about etiquette. It won't surprise you to learn that we rarely have long term visitors in the castle - or that my mother disdains most formalities.
[EXTREMELY HELFUL DHAMPIR RIGHT HERE. Alucard shakes his head.]
I believe it will be much the same, given that you're coming here to study and take advantage of my father's vast libraries.
[UR GOING TO BE NERDS please chillax.]
My mother is...hm. How shall I put it? She may have derided my father for his lack of hospitality when she first knocked on his door, but in doing so she threw those same laws aside, dressed him down, and...well, I'm here.
[However, sleeping isn't as important as belly rubs. In a moment, Alucard is in his wolf form, and he's quick to trot over and flop in a neat pile of limbs, stomach facing towards Hector.]
That's fine. If you fall asleep on the mattress, I'll take the hammock tonight, but we're switching tomorrow.
[He lets Cesar settle back into his lap and Antonius rest his head on one thigh so they don't get jealous as he leans forward and starts giving Alucard the royal belly-rub treatment.]
[There's a very agreeable snuffle from Alucard, and then--
--ah. Yes. This is what relaxation feels like, and the wolf's tail wags languidly. He's far too happy like this, closing his eyes and absolutely luxuriating here.]
[Hector doesn’t mind. He lives for spoiling his pets.
He settles his back against the wall so he can keep mindlessly petting into the night, until the dogs are all asleep.
Of course, then he’s trapped, unable to get up and head to the hammock without waking them. It’s fine, he’s slept worse places. He leans his head back and lets himself doze.]
[So the voyage goes. Alucard shifts between his forms, playing with the dogs to help tire them out, and then sitting with Hector to advise him of things like how the castle requires very strong legs because of all the stairs. He speaks a little of his parent's current research, and soon enough, they reach their destination.
From ship to carriage, from carriage to walking on foots into the forests of Wallachia, where the castle waits for them both. Within it's walls, the castle moves high into the Carpathian mountains, and Hector is properly welcomed.
For people who have not hosted guests in...well, never as a couple dealing with a human, the whole affair is pointedly low on formalities. Lisa is the warmest thing a room, asking Hector after his work and his personal life (and petting the dogs), with Vlad just beaming. Alucard listens, and then?
Then the work begins. Alucard doesn't have a need to be hovering with his father and Hector, and his own pursuits turn inward towards architectural design. He sits in his own work spaces, drafting, stopping for meals or to hunt for food, or to greet Cesar when the little dog pokes his head in.
Working with Dracula demands a night schedule though, and it's only now, a week in, that Alucard has well and truly seen Hector go past his own rooms. At that, the dhampir sticks his head out, an arm full of pug.]
[The journey has been a whirlwind. Hector tries not to have a hopeless crush on Alucard as they travel together, but Alucard makes it difficult, by being Alucard. It's terrible.
At least when they get to the castle, Hector is too nervous, then too busy getting settled in to dwell long on his feelings. Dracula really is a genius, and Lisa has a way of making him want to do great things to impress her. He needs their parental approval, so sue him.
Hector's always kept strange hours, but getting onto a regular nocturnal schedule is tricky. He feels like he is just now getting his footing.
And he immediately loses it the moment Alucard calls his name. Literally, he misses a step and has to flail to regain his balance. Smooth. So smooth.]
Alucard, there you are. Your mother said you'd be up here somewhere.
[Maybe Alucard didn't see. With his superhuman eyes. That are looking right at him.]
Of course not. But I wanted to make sure he found his way to you without encountering too many stairs.
[Cesar seems happy enough to see Hector, although he does give Alucard a moment's look of betrayal. Alucard shakes his head, then steps aside.
It's a drafting studio, one with a large table and a number of plans scattershot over a few long tables. They show interiors with gears and other mechanical elements, not terribly unlike what exists in the castle at the moment.]
[Hector always tries to keep some sort of treat or toy on hand for Cesar. Today's distraction is a little strip of rawhide, which he tosses across the room. Cesar yips, then bounds over to it and flops onto the floor to begin chewing on it.
Hector shakes his head at the pup.]
At least he got some exercise on the way up. I'll have to carry him back down when I go.
[Which doesn't seem to be immediately. Hector's glad of the chance to catch back up with Alucard.]
Decided you needed a space of your own, huh? Has that been in the works long?
[Alucard. ALUCARD. Think of what you'd have the freedom to do in your own private keep. You are killing this necromancer.]
My studies are going well. Your father and I have theories about a new application of necromancy. He's getting the materials ready so we can start trials soon.
[Well, at least Hector has his work. They both have their work. Who needs kisses when there are theories to test.]
Don't fret. We're starting with animals. Between the predators in the forests and animals slaughtered for meat, there's no shortage of materials we can collect without harming anything.
[Hector wouldn't kill an animal for no reason. His ethics are probably backwards, but they make sense in his little world.]
You know, having your own keep would mean having more independence. A quiet study. Privacy.
[Alucard can read that shrug now. There's a few ways of responding to it, but they all begin with a very careful consideration. Hector is here, which means Hector probably should be prioritizing the work and not risking them both. Hector stop taking calculated risks you're bad at math
I want to see if, instead of animating a body, I can use alchemy to create a new, viable body. Something made of rabbits, but not a rabbit. Something new.
[He wants to know if he can. Maybe he'll make a jackalope. It'll be great.
shhhh, leave his math alone.]
No, but I still want to. I said I'd leave it to you to decide. I'm just...reminding you of the options.
Animals don't have souls, technically. They have spirits. It's semantics. Nature is full of spirits that are waiting for a new vessel, and I want to see if I can create a new body for one.
[It's more than a simple transfer. It is becoming a creator. The church would burn everything in a twenty mile radius if they knew. So that's fun.
If Alucard wants to distract Hector from the other conversation, this is the way. Focus back on the work.]
You're welcome to come to the lab when we begin, if you're interested.
It doesn't need to be perfect. Just working. A third set of eyes less expert in this magic could be a potential benefit.
[Alucard's own interests mean that he pursued fewer dark arts than his father. He is literate and skilled in them, but re-animating the dead and interfering with souls? That is not the dhampir's domain.]
If you want to spend time with me though, you could simply say so.
You'll see the simple solution through the overly-complicated theories your father and I come up with, you mean.
[He's teasing, although it wouldn't surprise him if it turned out that way. Alucard or Lisa, raising a perfect blond eyebrow and pointing to the obvious flaw in the plan...]
I thought it was obvious that I wanted that, Alucard.
Oh? Be careful. If you spoil me too much, I am not going to want to leave this castle.
[He likes the idea of Alucard cooking for him; it means he is thinking about Hector, even when Hector isn't here.
He'll write up a list, though. Is it sad that some of his 'favorite' foods are determined by what his dogs like? There's little that crosses his plate that doesn't end up having bits broken off to become treats for his pets.]
[Where else is he going to go that will be comfortable with a necromancer like this, after all?
It's not exactly a nice truth to think, but Alucard moves that fact off to the side for the time being. Instead he moves aside just a little bit more.]
You're free to look through whatever drafts are out.
[See, Alucard, if you say things like that, Hector is going to interpret it as flirting. Wouldn't it be nice to spend more time together?]
I'll try not to move anything around.
[That's something he can't stand when he's working, to have his notes reorganized or shuffled around. He goes down the desk, looking at the papers that are spread out on the table space, but not touching.]
[Alucard walks back into the room. He settles down at his own drafting table, a version of the crypt room in Gresit in progress there. Most of what's out is for Gresit, save for one drawing that sits at Hector's right.
It's just a small room. One that's...very similar to the one they're in now.]
I'm working on the one by your right hand. Just expanding this room.
[Hector isn't sure how to praise a room. He can't wax poetic about manmade structures the way he can the natural world. The...walls hold up the roof? Hector is curious how soundproof the room is, for completely innocent reasons? Why is he so lame.]
What else have you made in the castle. I want to see all of it.
[The good news is, Alucard can take the compliment even if it's awkwardly given. He then stands, gesturing Hector to come with him.]
One of the smaller libraries and a set of rooms, meant for myself mostly. I've no intention of leaving for good, but it was agreed I should have a smaller cluster of rooms for myself and a library for my own interests, much as my mother has her medical library and labs in a different wing of the castle.
[So your mom and dad agree that you should have your own space and privacy, Alucard?? They encourage you in your pursuits?? Maybe they would understand if you, an adult, were to start dating???
Hector follows Alucard, because he's hopeless.]
You have your own library.
[The opulence of the castle, even after a week of living here, is still staggering. Multiple libraries. Hector considers himself fortunate to own multiple books.]
[WHY DON'T YOU ASK DAD ABOUT IT HECTOR AND WATCH HIM REACT there is no one worthy of his son he is being exactly a dad with a teenage girl]
Yes?
[Alucard then realizes that yes, that is unusual. So he falls silent for a moment, taking a sharp right and then another into the rest of his castle wing.]
Forgive me, I am so used to the matter that I forget how books are a rarity. But yes, I do have my own library. It's really just some of my father's books houses in a separate area of the castle.
[You mean Hector, self-taught necromancer, do something stupid without thinking about the consequences? That would be so unprecedented.]
So you stripped his library of all of the texts you liked best?
[Dracula, whipped by his beloved family. It's hilarious to see the signs of it. The vampire is feared far and wide, but he is so soft for his wife and his son.]
Let me guess. Travelogues and architectural tomes?
Of course not. I asked permission first, and my father gave me copies of several pieces because he couldn't be without some of them.
[Is it being whipped or just being in love? We may never know, but he is a total push over for them. That much is screamingly clear.
...Alucard huffs. How dare you call out his completely obvious taste??]
Along with a few histories and some alchemical texts, yes. Mostly for things like mortar mixing and the like. Did you know you can embed spells into the stuff to ensure certain properties?
Yes, actually. There's a side room through the door here --
[Yes, Alucard is gesturing to a door that's flanked by the bookcases and almost filled in entirely.] that I used as an experiment. I'm afraid the room might be a bit dusty, as I rarely make use of it.
[It's just a little sofa, one appointed with a few pillows and a blanket, meant for research naps and precious little more. It isn't dusty, but it's hardly used. There's no sense of personality there, unlike so much else of the castle.]
[Wow okay Hector be less excited? Alucard's a little taken aback at the speed, and he makes sure to actually close the door to put the spell into place. There is a faint shimmer to the walls that lingers for a moment and then...nothing. It's in place.
[Hector grins. He plops down on the couch and gives Alucard's hand a tug to ensure he follows.]
Mmm hmmm. I've barely seen you since we arrived.
[Infinitely better than the boat and that terrible straw mattress. Hector leans back against the cushions so he doesn't start crowding Alucard in his eagerness.]
I hope you don't expect me to extend him every courtesy I've given you.
[Wink. He is honored by the time he gets to spend with Lord Dracula, but he is also infinitely glad of what he and Alucard have between one another.]
He is done with me for the rest of the day, so I'm at your disposal.
[It is nice, both having a more comfortable settings and also not being in a rush. They have time, and thanks to Alucard's magic bricks, they shouldn't be interrupted.]
[Alucard's a little surprised that Hector's starting off slow. He doesn't mind though, and he moves his other hand so that it's gently stroking the back of Hector's neck. The warmth there is so lovely, although Hector's not about to have a lamp full of dhampir any time in the next few seconds to suck up more of that warmth.]
[Hector's hand goes to stroke Alucard's hair. He's worried he'll push too fast, too far, and Alucard will pull back, so he's moving cautiously. They can warm up together.
He shifts a little closer so their legs touch, and deepens the kiss.]
[At the hand in his hair, there's a very content sigh from the dhampir that is pressed into Hector's mouth. The thumb stroking against Hector's neck moves in a confident little circle, applying just a little pressure but never daring to overstep.
Legs? Legs can overstep. One crosses ankles with Hector's. Just a little nudge.]
[Hector rubs his toes up Alucard's calf as he leans in closer. He teases Alucard's bottom lip with a nibble, then shifts to kiss his way to Alucard's favorite spot, his neck. Positive reinforcement is a powerful thing, and he wants to reward Alucard taking initiative.
Noise isn't a concern now, so he doesn't hold back from lavishing attention onto the pale column of neck like he sort of did on the ship. He can suck and nip to his heart's content. So he does.]
[He's only a dog sometimes Hector, he doesn't need to be rewarded for basic tasks.
But it does feel nice, and he hooks his leg around Hector's. They're just as close as they were before, but--
--oh.
The need to sneak is still present, but there is a freedom in this room. When Hector's lips move to Alucard's neck, there's no hiding the loud groan of delight that follows. The noises that come after are a far more moderate volume with such satisfaction threaded throughout.]
[Yeah, that isn't a whole lot, Alucard. But its also enough for him to angle his head downwards, stealing a kiss at a better angle to save his neck. If only for a moment.]
[Hector huffs out a laugh as Alucard kisses him. Almost breaking the skin...who's the vampire now?
He shifts on the couch so he can bring Alucard's leg closer to himself. He kisses to the other side of Alucard's neck, pale and unmarked. He licks it hungrily, teasing. He knows you like the biting, Alucard.]
[He'd pout, but too late. Hector's moved closer, and you know what? Alucard's in a mood to be daring. After a moment or two more of wonderful teasing, the dhampir places his hands on Hector's hips and just draaaaaaaaags him so that Hector's just on his lap.]
[Hector gasps into Alucard's neck. Oh. It's easy to forget Alucard's super-human strength until he does something like this, moving him effortlessly. He is absolutely into it.]
Do you want me to put my mouth elsewhere, then?
[There isn't an inch of Alucard that Hector doesn't want to kiss. He can move on from the neck if Alucard is worried, although from his end, Hector doesn't think accidental vampirism would be the end of the world. Dracula makes it work, after all.
He wraps a leg around Alucard to anchor himself and scoots in closer. More heat, more friction, more opportunities to make Alucard groan and really test out the sound-proofing in this room.]
[Careful Hector being into that vampire strength could be a problem in another place and time. Just saying.]
I feel as if I should ask where you want mine.
[Alucard being at the lower angle means he's far better positioned to kiss and nip at Hector's shoulders and chest.
Oh, but that leg. Alucard's not sure they can be closer together, and Hector's natural heat is a blessing. For now? There's no groaning. Only deep and heady breaths.]
[Except that was exactly what Alucard wanted to hear. Alucard's lips start right where his jawline and neck meet, and then? Then the kissing begins.
Alucard's lips travel slowly, and there are two reasons for this. The first? Pure anticipation. The second is so that Alucard can unbutton a little of Hector's shirt so that there's more neck to explore. So it goes, lower and lower and lower until hitting Hector's collar bone.
There's no biting though, not yet. Alucard repositions his hands first, the one that was unbuttoning Hector's shirt now firmly grasping his ass.]
[Maybe Hector's right. That they both want this and want this badly. It's enough for Alucard to take a tiny, tiny nip at Hector's skin with his front teeth, being so careful not to do any damage.
Yes. Yes he wants more of this. He knows by how Hector presses against him and how his heaertbeat thunders in Alucard's ears.]
Yes. Do it.
[Words muffled against skin. Alucard picks his head up and repeats them.]
[Hector groans happily. One hand drops to Alucard's butt to give it a squeeze, and he uses his other to start tugging Alucard's shirt up to expose his stomach.]
You can do it harder.
[The squeezing, the biting, all of it. Hector can take it, and he wants more. He trails his fingers up Alucard's stomach, and then back down, slowly, questioning, at the waistband of his pants.]
[Where do you want his arms to go Hector? Up and over his head so you can get rid of that shirt, or still grabbing your ass? There's a lot happening right now, and so Alucard gives that ass another squeeze for being the easiest option.
Fuck though. Alucard leans back a little, giving Hector room to undo the belt Alucard has on.]
Remove what you want now before things get too tangled.
[Hector gives Alucard's lips a quick peck, then leans back so he can strip off his shirt without any fanfare. He tosses it aside and goes in for Alucard's belt, leaving the shirt for now. He unhooks the belt and slides it out of the belt loops of his pants. If they were more experienced lovers, he might be tempted to put the belt to use, but for now, his goal is just to touch Alucard, as thoroughly and as often as he is allowed.
Hector slips his hand into Alucard's pants and cups his cock as he leans back in to kiss at his neck.]
[This is good. A lot, but good. It shows on Alucard's face when he looks up at Hector, a faint blush of color to his cheeks and pupils wider than before. His other hand moves up just as Hector's hand starts to fondle his cock. For that touch, Alucard gropes at Hector's chest, a shuddery sigh following.]
Yes. Please. [He's being good and polite. And not even thinking about what belts can be used for in this situation.]
[That blush on Alucard's pale cheeks has Hector's heart melting. He would do anything Alucard asks.
He slides his fingers down the length of Alucard's cock and encircles it more tightly on the way back up. The hand on his chest sends a shiver down his spine as he strokes.]
I've wanted this every day since then. It's been hell, not touching you.
Yes. There's only one way to get it out of my memories.
[He pushes Alucard back and kisses down his chest.]
If I make you come here, I won't have to recall that terrible mattress ever again.
[He withdraws his hand from the pants and brings both to grip Alucard's hips. He pushes the pants down to bare more of Alucard's skin to the open air.]
[Oh. Oh. Those kisses against his chest get a heavy sigh heavily. There's less grabbing at Hector's chest, and instead Alucard's hand goes so it can tangle up in his hair.]
You have to finish as well.
[Fair is fair in Alucard's estimation. Just as fair right now is lifting his hips up to make trouser removal easier.]
If you could see yourself right now, you'd know there's not a chance I won't.
[Alucard well-kept is a sight to behold, but Alucard mussed is impossibly hot.
He noses further down into the wide neck of Alucard's shirt to find and lick at a nipple. He can't go too far with Alucard's hand in his hair, though he doesn't mind moving enough to feel the tug.]
Have you thought about the other things I offered? All the ways we could make each other finish?
[There. Pants are at his knees, as are underpants. Alucard imagines that he should feel colder than he does.
The hand in Hector's hair sees the pads of Alucard's fingers scratch and stroke against his scalp. It isn't much, but it's nice. A way to keep himself even keeled, until Hector licks at his chest and fucking hell his shudder is paired with aloud moan.]
[Hector shifts, finds the other nipple, and lavishes the same treatment on it. Alucard is petting and scratching him like a pet, and Hector basks in the attention. He's flushed and eager, lacking the patience to tease Alucard and draw this out.]
[He's maybe begging. A little. Because the attention is already overwhelming and he knows that this has to be a test of how soundproof the room is, not a true evening together.]
[Hector slides down Alucard's body until his head is level with Alucard's lap. He looks up at Alucard's flushed face, winks, and wraps his lips around the tip of his cock.]
[He can do that. In fact it's about all Alucard can manage, nails starting to scrape against Hector's scalp.
Alucard's touched himself before all of this. The boat was so much, but it wasn't an entirely new experience. Just another set of hands and new sensations. This, however, is truly uncharted territory.
The noise Alucard makes is somehow squeaky and deep at the same time. and it comes with an accidental yank of Hector's hair. To be that that enveloped in warmth, even though it's just the tip, that's a wonderful new experience.]
[Hector moans at the nails, then at the tugging. Every pull goes straight to his cock.
He swirls his tongue around the tip of Alucard's dick, then takes a little more of it into his mouth. His hands run up and down Alucard's thighs, caressing and making sure he doesn't make any sudden movements while his cock is between Hector's lips.]
[There's one thing Alucard is repeating in his mind: don't thrust. Don't thrust. Don't thrust. Because Alucard's hips are twitching, he wants to yank Hector's hair, and see how much of himself can fit in Hector's mouth.
His nails scratch in an attempt to keep things under control. The moan that follows shows how little control he really has, loud and deep and wanting.]
[He takes Alucard's cock back in his mouth and reaches up to hold one hand on the back of Alucard's, pushing his head forward, demonstrating what to do. He doesn't mind if Alucard pulls or scratches while he does it.]
[Alucard's cock twitches just a little as Hector leans forward. There's something hissed, maybe it's good God or maybe it's just an attempt at making works that fails. Either way, Alucard's hands are unsteady as they find new purchase in Hector's hair. His right grabs all the way in the back. His left instead rests on Hector's cheek, thumb rubbing a slow and careful circle there. He isn't sure what Hector is feeling right now or how it compares to how all of Alucard's nerves feel like they're on fire.]
If anything is wrong, please tell me.
[He can't abide harming anyone for his pleasure.
Alucard thrusts so carefully into Hector's mouth.]
[Hector hums his acknowledgement, then relaxes his mouth so he can take more of Alucard in. He feels drunk on power, making Alucard lose this much control. His own cock is rock-hard in his pants.
He lets go of Alucard's hand and brings one hand to Alucard's ass to urge him up and deeper in, slowly at firstun til he can adjust to the feel of it.
The other hand, he strokes down Alucard's shaft, and further down to tickle at his balls. Hector is focusing on giving Alucard all these new sensations, even if they aren't destined to last for long.]
[Alucard has just enough control left in him to not roll his hips all the way. The hand on his ass makes it an extreme challenge though, but he manages. Inch by inch. Tiny thrust after tiny thrust, golden eyes focused on Hector and his own dick.
Which means he's also watching Hector touch what isn't inside his mouth. The touch to his balls gets a sharp moan and a sharper tug of Hector's hair, all thanks to the sensory overload.
But like this isn't fair to Hector. So Alucard gingerly moves one of his legs, and tries to rub it close to Hector's thigh. Anything to share this feeling.]
[Hector feels Alucard's leg shift between his thighs, and he rocks forward to rub his cock against it. It's not enough, but it helps take the edge off while he sucks.
He reaches the end of what he can fit into his mouth without choking, so he pulls his head back and then takes Alucard's shaft again, a little faster and a little more sure of it this time. He gives Alucard's butt another squeeze, reassuring him that Hector is doing just fine.
[Alucard makes sure his leg presses against Hector harder. He knows it isn't enough, not by a long shot, but he isn't sure how else to make it clear he's concerned and invested in Hector's own pleasure. Being the sole focus of so much attention is hard and--
--a very low groan escapes, rising up from the pit of Alucard's stomach. It's a sign of being closer, along with the sweat starting to gather against his chest. The groan is tempered by softer, shorter breaths, along with Alucard's hips moving forward again.
They've both figured out how much of Alucard Hector can take. That's important, and the next thrust tries to match Hector's confidence.]
[Oh, don't worry Alucard, Hector can feel how hard it is for you.
Hector groans as Alucard starts moving in earnest to take pleasure from his mouth. He works his hand faster on the base of Alucard's shaft. Alucard's flesh is so warm now, flushed with pleasure, and Hector keeps looking up from his cock to watch Alucard come undone.]
[Alucard can feel Hector's eyes on him. In fact, he can feel just about every inch of Hector at this point, and that thought provokes the hardest yank of Hector's hair yet. His hips speed but--
--One important question that he needs to get out.]
[Hector exhales a long breath from his nose. He wants to taste Alucard, but he knows how concerned Alucard is about accidentally spreading vampirism. They haven't talked about what fluids other than blood could do.
He pulls his head back and releases Alucard's cock with a wet pop.]
Come on my chest.
[His voice is hoarse and breathless. He wraps both hands around the spit-slick cock and pumps it so Alucard doesn't lose his momentum.]
[There are some things Alucard hasn't asked his father about yet in life, and honestly, he doesn't intend to do that any time soon.
That pop? That's obscene, and it shows with how Alucard's hips speed up. It's the same time that his breath starts becoming more ragged and shallow, happily and excitedly heralding how close to the edge he is.]
Okay. I'll-- [He swallows a lump in his throat.] Do that. Fuck.
[If anything the momentum speeds up. The ragged breath becomes simply more so, until climax hits. Without anything to mute him, Alucard's moan is loud, starting deep, deep in his stomach and blossoming outward. Nails dig into Hector's scalp to draw him in close, and Alucard has such warmth and color in his face. He's undone, hair a glorious mess and chest glistening from his own sweat and build up.]
[Hector jerks Alucard's cock until it begins to spurt. As Alucard comes, he drags Hector forward by the hair, and Hector kisses and licks his stomach while the dhampir shudders.
The come is hot and sticky on his chest. Hector runs a finger through it and brings it to his lips to taste. Not much different from human seed.]
It's...a good thing...we didn't try this on the ship.
[Alucard is loud and Hector loves it. He rocks against Alucard's leg, still so turned on.]
[It's better, Alucard thinks, being kissed during this moment anyway. The warmth of Hector's lips against his stomach is just right, and his hands keep moving through Hector's hair after he finishes. They're shakier now, with Alucard so adrift in his own thoughts and pleasure. They're trying to not forget Hector in all of this.]
Extremely wise.
[But then he feels Hector against his leg, and Alucard is a little more anchored.]
[Hector could come just from the thought of his cock in Alucard's mouth, but he's all too aware of those fangs. There are other ways, just as good, with less danger.
Hector crawls back up the couch so he is eye level with Alucard.]
Use your hands. Stroke me the way you stroke yourself when you get off.
[He unfastens his pants and shoves them down so Alucard has unhindered access.]
[We don't put fangs near dicks Hector. That's a household rule.
In the few moments it takes for Hector to join Alucard on the couch? Alucard's breathing struggles to steady itself, and the rest of his mind demands his focus turn to Hector rather than himself. It helps, having instructions.
[Oh, Hector doesn't mind Alucard getting bossy. Not at all. He grins, and drapes himself against the other side of the couch. He gropes blindly for his discarded shirt to wipe up the mess on his chest so Alucard doesn't get it on him.]
[Very carefully, Alucard angles himself so that he's resting between Hector and the back of the sofa, leaned on his side. It's close. Which is rather the point, and Alucard makes a point to nuzzle against Hector's neck.
It's to steady himself as well as tease Hector just a little. Alucard's still too warm, and his hair matted and puffed out. His hand reaches down, taking Hector for a moment, doing little more than just wrapping around him.]
[Hector tips his head to bare his neck for Alucard as he leans in. He inhales sharply and holds it in as Alucard starts his teasing touches.
Turnabout is fair play, technically, but it doesn't mean it isn't also torturous. Hector's hips twitch, and he sneaks a hand around his lover and strokes his fingers up and down Alucard's back.]
[The hand against his back? That helps immensely. Focus returns to Alucard the more Hector strokes, and in turn that means Alucard's own work is far more clear eyed.
His strokes start out as so firm, moving base to tip with a very pointed display of vampire strength. Then? It becomes lighter. Just for a few strokes. Repeat.
Alucard's lips soon start to kiss against Hector's neck. Those are feather light, always teasing his fangs but never quite getting there.]
[Alucard starts showing off his strength, and Hector lets out a long, low groan. God, knowing that he's sleeping with a man who could break him is driving him wild. Don't kinkshame him, ok?
He bucks against Alucard's hand while trying to keep his upper half still so he doesn't nick those fangs.]
Yes. So good... [He's not too proud to beg, so he adds a breathless, 'please' as he writhes beneath Alucard's touch.]
[Sorry Hector the clock is stuck at kinkshame o'clock.
The fact Hector has to put so much effort into not getting impaled on fangs? That means he changes tactics, because even in all of this he knows better. Alucard's lips catch onto Hector's instead, the kisses mad and too fast and matching the new speed of Alucard's hand. There's moments of catch and release of Hector's noises, any additional pleases, all of it.]
[Alucard can do that. He can yank Hector's hair hard so that more of his neck is exposed, and use his tongue to drag uuuuup it far too slowly and with so much intent. He can continue to stroke Hector with ever increasing speed, sure that if he doesn't finish in the next few minutes, it will be a genuine shock.]
[It's practically a whimper. It is unfair, how sexy Alucard is. The hair tugging is just the right amount of hurt to intensify the pleasure of every other sensation his body is experiencing.
Alucard must be able to feel how fast his heart is beating as he licks over his pulse point on the way up his neck. Hector's fingers curl and his nails drag down Alucard's back. The tension winds tighter to the snapping point, and he doesn't know if he should push Alucard away or clutch him tighter.]
...I'm...close....
[He pants out the warning so if Alucard wants to spare himself the mess of Hector's orgasm, he can.]
[Alucard moves his face just enough so he can repeat the action on the other side of Hector's neck. His angle is weird, but that means he's pressing down against Hector 's chest. Oh, he felt the man's heartbeat already, but now it is thundering up against his chest in that there is such a thrill. He did that. He did that.
Any more and Hector might threaten to make Alucard want a second round. But no, he focuses on those last moments, hand still pumping up and down Hector's cock to finally tip him over the edge.]
[Hector screws his eyes shut and grasps at Alucard. The dhampir pressed against his chest keeps him from moving too much, but with Alucard taking care of him, he doesn't need to.
He bites his lip to keep from crying out when he reaches his peak. He shudders against Alucard and sags back against the couch, feeling completely weightless and blissfully empty.]
[Alucard's hand doesn't stop until he's sure that Hector is done. Sure, that means having a stickier than normal hand, but that's fine. Natural enough. When he does withdraw his hand, it just hangs off of Hector's side and dangles over the edge of the sofa.
He's not moving. He's going to just stay pressed against Hector for a little while, breathing in and out and drinking in the deeply satisfied silence.]
[Hector isn't moving, either, except for the rise and fall of his chest as his frantic heartbeat finally evens out. He may live on this couch now. Staying here, pressed tight against Alucard, is fine by him.
He thinks giddily, but is smart enough not to say, that the sound-proofing must have worked because Dracula hasn't burst into the room and killed him yet.
He nuzzles his cheek against Alucard's shoulder and sighs.]
Hmmm. Think there's enough room to get a bed in here?
I think that'd be a challenge. And make things obvious.
[Thinking ahead, doing more of this? Alucard isn't entirely sure it is a good idea. But shit. Hector underneath him like this, warm and flush and spent? That's a good argument to keep it going.
[There's a thoughtful rumble. Next time indeed, although Alucard knows that this sneaking around is far more dangerous with Dracula around. It isn't as if he'll be traveling soon.]
Yes, to slick.... Your paren-no, that is....you've read books about....
[Nope. Hector is bold, but he is floundering when it comes to asking Alucard what sex education he's had. Hector sags against the couch. He knows he's blushing now, and his only hope is that Alucard is too distracted to notice.]
[This charged antagonism with Isaac is familiar, and Hector slips into it easily in spite of his exhaustion. It helps distract from the chasm of loneliness within him.]
I could use it to oppose you. For all you think my power diminished, I could yet be a thorn in your side.
[Fighting words as he scrapes his nails up Isaac’s bare arm.]
That’s cute, and he laughs into Hector’s skin, a low, rumbling chuckle, before catching his nipple in his teeth. What’s pleasure without a little pain to make it all the sweeter?]
Such a bold proclamation from a man flat on his back… [He says, peering up through his lashes at him. The scrape of Hector's nails is something he finds himself liking more than he cares to admit, so he allows it - for now.] ...and no fight in him left.
[Hector gasps as the tickling vibrations of Isaac's laughter morph into a sharp nip. The warm wet of his mouth tempers the bite, but it still cuts through Hector's sluggishness and brings the world back into focus. That fight Isaac speaks of is rekindling.
He wraps his fingers around Isaac's biceps and digs in his nails. He bucks up. If Isaac thinks keeping him on his back is easy, well... he would have been right when he first came over, but now he's going to find it more of a challenge.]
If you want bold, how about this? I'll put you on your back, and then you'll see what fight is left in me.
[Adrenaline trills through him, sharp and white, his muscles rippling in Hector's grip. It’s sounding like the beginnings of a threat - and the smile crooking his lips all but promises that more than their truce stands to be broken if they fight in earnest.]
…try, and we shall see what happens.
[We shall see what becomes of you. It's a warning and a challenge rolled into one.
Isaac may have come with a purpose, but he is always one sudden movement or misread intention away from an abrupt change in course.]
[On another night, Hector might try to keep the peace and keep Isaac appeased. But tonight, he is out of fucks to give. What will happen, will happen.
He hooks a leg around one of Isaac's leatherclad ones and twists his body around, trying to flip them over. Staying on the couch is no concern. Let them roll around the floor, scrambling for the advantage. How fitting.]
[Isaac takes the brunt of the fall, air gusting from his lungs. The pain sharp in his back jacks adrenaline into him, and through the sunspots spattering his vision, he sees his own hand snap out for Hector’s throat before he has even gotten a proper breath in. Hector may not be out to kill him, but his instincts don’t know any better for the moment. The fierce desire to win and the desire to survive are near-inseparable.]
[Isaac always fights like a demon, in spite of how slender he is. He squeezes Hector's throat, and Hector writhes and grasps a fistful of his hair to yank him back.]
...fuck...you.... [He gasps out. It's not that he didn't know it would end like this. 'I come in peace', like hell. Maybe if Hector pushes the right buttons, Isaac will strangle him into unconsciousness and deliver the oblivion Hector was fruitlessly seeking.]
[His hand squeezes tighter, Hector’s pulse bounding under his thumb. Isaac can feel his own in his cock, harder and heavier.]
You were warned! [He snarls through his teeth, determined to hang on for as long as he can stand. But even as his eyes water up, he realizes that it shouldn’t be this easy. That this isn’t half of what Hector is capable of. He has proof of it across his body where he left wounds to heal unaided and scars now mark their place.
But if this is all Hector's willing to give, then maybe, just maybe, he deserves to die for what he has let himself become. And Isaac won’t pretend, while his hearing fuzzes and a numb buzzing fills his skull, that he doesn’t still feel an ugly thrill at the thought of ending a life. Not just any, but his. Getting to watch Hector's eyes go glassy and dark as he struggles, and fails.
Then something snaps through him, waking him with a start. And the moment is over. Isaac blinks and releases him with a shove, panting. His lip curls.] You pathetic excuse for a Forgemaster...!
[Hector's breath rattles as Isaac releases his throat, pushing him backwards to distance their two gasping mouths.]
Yet... you didn't see it through.
[Damn it, Isaac, either fuck Hector or knock him unconscious, he's not picky at this point. His tone is accusatory. For all they dance around one another, fighting and arguing and orbiting one another like celestial bodies, they never manage to end one another. It's like they both know they cannot exist without their counterpart, no matter how they deny it.]
Fuck it. [He untangles himself from Isaac and crawls toward the nearest half-empty bottle he's left strewn around the room.] 'm not drunk enough for this.
[Hector considers himself to be a logical man. He knows there is reason and purpose behind the coalition of vampires. It allows for greater control of each member's respective territory, offers protection from the hunters and armies that might rise up against them, and in theory facilitates the sharing of knowledge.
And, more practically for Hector, wherever there is a gathering of vampires, there is bound to be a constant supply of corpses to be had. It's an efficient system- vampires feed and discard, Hector collects and forges. With an assembly of this size, Hector should be swimming in corpses, making headway into restoring the numbers of Night Creatures that have been hunted to near-extinction. Necromancers, nature's greatest recyclers. In theory, this should be an acceptable arrangement. The reality though....]
What do you mean, they've already been spoken for?
[The reality of the situation is that with the greater gathering of vampires, there happens to be another individual here claiming corpses for his work. And apparently he outranks Hector. When the mystery individual arrives to collect his bodies, he'll find one very salty human glaring daggers at him.]
[ It's unusual for Mother to actually allow Heisenberg to go to the assembly. He doesn't question what scheme that she has up her sleeve. No, that's a lie; he absolutely questions what is going on in her insane mind, but decides to stew over it quietly.
At the very least, he is able to acquire a lot of dead bodies to continue with his planned out revolt. Of course, he says that he's just gathering them up for his own experiments and making more fodder for his matriarch. Even so, there is a lot of huffing and puffing from the vampires as they seem to think such work is "beneath them" and he should just ask the Forgemaster to make his soldiers.
It gets a little under his skin that he's thought of as inferior because he wants to be a little hands-on. That's the problem with vampires. They always want to delegate their duties. Should he be saying that as a vampire? Maybe not.
And when he arrives to collect his bodies, he is a little surprised to see a human glaring daggers at him. ]
What's with all the glaring? Your master mad I didn't come to pick these up sooner? Well, I can only move so fast. [ Heisenberg jokes as he's sure that the human also knows just how fast vampires can move if they really want to get from a-to-b. ]
[ His eyebrows lift in honest surprise. It takes him a second before he claps his hands together, realizing that this must be the Forgemaster. ]
Will wonders never cease? I was told about you earlier. Most of the vampires seem to think that the two of us are peas in a pod... it's hard to tell who that is insulting more, am I right? [ He barks out a laugh at his own joke. ]
And Lord Dracula can hear all about it, because I'm revolutionizing the whole forging of the dead. [ With his free hand, he makes small circles in the air. He clenches his hand into a fist. ] I've found a way to bring them back... but without using magic.
[Hector isn't mollified by the vampire's jokes. Usually, having a sense of humor would endear a person to Hector, but not when it interferes with his forging.
Still brooding, he nonetheless can't help but nibble at that bait.]
Explain what you mean, 'revolutionizing' forging. It's a magical process. Alchemy applied to biology.
[Hector has made some amazing advances in his field, but there's no way to do it without magic. It just... it doesn't work. He's baffled to the point that it outweighs his anger.]
I found a way to forge my own soldiers using science.
[ he throws his arms open like he expects others to come rushing in to give him a standing ovation. of course, no applause happens. it is just hector and heisenberg among a lot of dead bodies. ]
Fill their bodies with enough electricity and you restart something in 'em. [ he walks over to the nearest corpse, giving it a little kick. ] We can't just rely forever on you, ya know? We have to try to change with the times.
[ which is a very un-vampire thing to say, he knows. most of the lot that he is around like to keep things "as they were," but he can't say that he approves of that mentality. it might be because he was changed only a few decades years ago, but he just isn't about moving forward. ]
[The vampire is simultaneously intriguing and infuriating. Hector would be much more impressed with his innovations if it wasn't a direct threat to Hector's livelihood.
He scowls.]
Electricity? There's a world of difference between simple nerve stimulation and my craft.
[Hector's an artist.]
I'll show you. We each take one corpse and make something of it, and we'll see how yours measure up to mine.
[Hector doesn't actually have the authority to demand a corpse, so it's entirely up to Heisenberg if he wants to indulge Hector's little competition.]
A fascinating bet. I'll take you up on it since I need to see if I can create one of my creations outside of my laboratory.
[ Heisenberg accepts that he might always be able to be in the best situation in order to make one of his soldiers. He might actually have to do it on the fly if "Mother" figures out what he's up to, and he lets out a sigh. ]
You know... vampires should be allowed to live free. [ It's an abrupt comment that he makes as he grabs one of the legs -- picking a corpse from the pile. ] Lord Dracula is a good, ol' lord. He only calls us in every so often, but really... he's very hands off. It's the ones that like jamming their nose into everything that you have to worry about, Hector.
[Hector bites his tongue at that reanimating comment. Not all methods are created equal, damn it. Hector makes quality night creatures, bespoke horrors. But no, actions will speak louder than his protests.
He drags his own corpse from the pile, giving it a quick once-over to make sure there are no bits of weaponry still sticking in it. Some of the vampires get lazy about cleaning up after themselves.]
Do you need to be somewhere specific for us to continue?
[He's got no vampire strength, but he's strong enough from swinging a hammer all day to drag one bloodless corpse to the vampire's laboratory of choice.]
...and yes, he's a good lord. He keeps those types of vampires well away from me. We have a good arrangement here, he and I.
[Well, up until today and Dracula's indulgence of this other necromancer.]
I'd have to take you all the way back to my ritual area. I don't think Lord Dracula would take too kindly to that, however, and may view it as me attempting to steal you away.
[ Heisenberg tilts his head back as he starts to bark out a loud laugh. ]
It's a real fine arrangement that you have. I wonder about it sometimes, but I'm sure everyone else does, too. [ Letting the corpse fall out of his hands, it hits the ground with a wet plop -- despite it only being lifted only a little bit off the ground. The vampires that murdered the poor sap really went hog wild on 'em. ]
I suppose he has a soft spot for humans due to his late wife. [ He holds his hands over the corpse. ] I wonder if he's attempting to make a new family with you two.
Bold of you to accuse the Vlad Tepes of sentimentality while you're within impaling range. We have a business arrangement. There is no replacing the late Mrs. Impaler, and I advise against bringing her up if you wish to keep operating here.
[He sighs as the corpse drops onto the ground. The things he does for his art.]
You may as well bring that to my lab, then. It's well stocked, and if there's something you require that I don't have, I can send someone out to fetch it.
I guess that's as good a place as anything. [ he fills his mouth full of air and lets out puttering noises. ] Having you drag the body all the way there would be funny.
[ heisenberg steps forward to reach down to take the corpse from hector. ]
But I'm feeling generous. So, I'll take it along with mine. Seems fair, right? You're letting me use your lab, so I should be a good guest and bring the materials.
[Protective? No, Hector just doesn't see the point in unnecessary violence, and speaking ill of Lisa Tepes results in excessive retaliation from his lord.
Hector fully would have called up a Night Creature to carry his corpse, but now he's going to let the vampire haul it for him.]
How chivalrous. I'll lead the way. Be sure not to damage it any more than it is.
[Hector's lab isn't far, at least. And having his 'rival' toting his materials for him soothes Hector's bruised ego a little.]
[ He quips back as he carries both of the corpses on his back. Heisenberg doesn't seem to mind whatever entrails or nastiness seems to pour out of them as they walk; it isn't really a concern of his, if he's honest.
It might be because he's just gotten a little too used to rummaging around the dead, but shh. ]
Might I ask why you started to resurrect the dead? From what I heard, you were doing it well before Lord Dracula came to your door and found your talent.
[Well, Hector's not in charge of keeping the castle floors tidy, so the trail of entrails isn't his problem.
He isn't here to get all buddy-buddy with his rival, but he doesn't get many opportunities to talk about his work with someone who understands it. So he figures there's no harm in answering.]
I started as a boy. I was being trained in more classical alchemy, but all I wanted was a dog. My... the man who trained me wouldn't allow any 'unnecessary expenses', but I thought he couldn't protest a pet that cost nothing to acquire and would have no need to eat. Suppose I had a natural bent for it, because I was able to piece together a ritual to raise a dead dog I found.
[ Isn't it nice to have one's reasons for doing something boiled down? His smile is bright, if not a little bit cheery. ]
I suppose every boy wants a dog. [ He tips his chin up as he tries to remember what he wanted when he was a child, but that was so long ago that he can't actually recall what it might have been. ] It's one of those fundamentals of childhood, yeah?
[ Even though he is totting the corpses, he leans to the side so that he can nudge Hector's shoulder with his own. ]
But from what you're saying, that man did protest to an undead dog, huh?
[ At first, Heisenberg is about to let out a bark of laughter. He is about to agree that he no longer remembers what is a normal childhood. It is just something that he "recalls" but can't be certain if it is just "a belief" he heard once.
His mouth is open wide for the laugh, but it freezes. He turns his head slightly toward Hector; his fangs visible and sharp. Heisenberg lets his expression relax as he lets out a snort, and finally closes his mouth. ]
I can't say that I'm not surprised that's the ending of that story, Hector.
[ A beat passes. ]
You really an interesting guy. I feel like the two of us have a lot in common, actually.
[Heisenberg may snort out a laugh, but Hector is serious.]
The humans who make their living in the night world rarely have happy childhoods.
[So, yes, it shouldn't come as a surprise.
He looks over at the vampire, who is much more personable than he's used to. Most of the vampires in Dracula's court either disdain him for being human or resent him for having Dracula's favor. Nobody engages him in small talk like this.]
Guess we should try to do something to fix that, hm?
[ His tone is rather flippant, but he figures that if they are going to technically share the night with their food/resources, they should attempt to make things pleasant for them. Why not? ]
It's a bit of razzle dazzle, as the kids would say.
[ What kids? Who says this?
In any case, he is shuffling himself into the laboratory to toss the corpses onto the nearest surface. Pressing his hands on the small of his back, he stretches in an exaggerated fashion, like that actually put him out. ]
I am. With Dracula in power, people like myself will have a place in the world.
[It's a lie, but it is not one Hector is telling to Heisenberg, per say. It's the lie he tells himself. Some days, he believes it.
Hector is similarly out of the loop with what the youths are saying, so he lets Heisenberg's second comment go by unquestioned. With a snap of his finger, a night creature emerges from an alcove and lifts the corpses onto the slab-like tables Hector keeps around his lab for his work. He didn't need to snap to get the job done, but it's as much a show as the vampire's feigned back pains.
A couple more creatures slip out from the shadows. All of them have glowing blue eyes, the mark of Hector's handiwork.]
You can ask them for the materials you need. They don't talk, but they understand well enough.
[ Heisenberg pauses to tilt his head up to look toward the ceiling, like he is directing his gaze upon Lord Dracula himself. His voice isn't filled with disbelief or good-natured humoring, but honest curiosity. Mother, again, tends to keep her brood relatively under heel. They are only brought out because Dracula forced her hand -- which may one day result in her trying to murder him which in turn will get her killed.
But he hopes that doesn't happen, because he wants to be the one that kills her. ]
Oh. [ His gaze is directed down and towards the creatures' arrival. He purses his lips as he gives an appreciative nod at the creations. ]
You know, one of these days, all of this is going to be possible through science. [ He steps forward towards the little helpers and starts to give them instructions on what he needs. It is mostly items that would help amplify and carry a current of electricity. ]
Magic, as we know it, will become something even the common folk can do.
I haven't been chased by an angry mob with pitchforks even once since I came to this castle.
[That protection might not extend past the borders of Dracula's admittedly extensive domain, but it is an improvement on how life had been for Hector before. Hector doesn't need to be loved or accepted. Being feared is enough to keep him alive and able to work, so he'll take it.]
I'm not one of those who argues that magic and science are two distinct practices. Some 'magic' is just science. But whether the common folk will accept either one, that's another conversation entirely.
[And of course, there's the question of whether those with power will allow it to be handed off to the masses. Hector is not one who would try to stifle learning, but many of the vampire lords he's met in Dracula's employ are worse than dragons with how they horde their knowledge and power.
But Heisenberg is another odd one like himself, willing to show his methods to another practitioner. Maybe he would be willing to make his teachings more widespread.]
[ Heisenberg decides not to say that most of the humans think that he and his family are lords of their land. Not that they don't do anything other than turn them into werewolves, and engage in other experiments, but details. ]
That is, indeed, another conversation. It's like with any thing... you can lead a horse to water, but yadda-yadda-yadda.
[ He makings a talking gesture with his free hand. With his other, he starts to arrange the various objects that he has asked for. While he says that it's all science, well, that is what he believes even as he starts to charge the bolts that are jammed into the body with electricity that he creates. ]
[Hector makes his preparations on his corpse- straightening out the limbs, assessing any wounds he'll need to account for. It's quick since the corpse is relatively intact, and when he finishes, he cranes his neck to see what the vampire is doing on his side of the lab.]
Yep. Humans are stubborn sons of bitches. Almost as bad as vampires.
[It's a joke, but also the truth.
Hector picks up his favorite hammer. Time for his magic vs. Heisenberg's science.]
As a vampire, I take a little bit offense to that, Hector.
[ He spreads his hands out over the corpse, striking it with electricity. Some portion of the flesh start to sizzle and it smells well like a rotten barbecue, but more importantly, the body twitches enough to actually sit up. ]
It's alive! Alive!
[ Heisenberg says with a little too much drama and flourish. He fuses swords onto both of the once corpse's arms, and calls it good. ]
[Hector sure hasn't. And he's met quite a few vampires in his short years.
He rolls his eyes at the dramatics. 'Alive', huh? Well, the thing is moving, at least. It's impressive, for someone who isn't a necromatic practitioner, but Hector is definitely bias to his own process.
Hector looks down at his own corpse, tries to envision what shape it will take. He swings his hammer, which stops in the air above the body but rings out a metallic clink as if it struck an anvil. Magic washes over it, glowing and blue, forming the connection between the empty shell and a damned soul from hell offering up servitude in exchange for an escape. A second strike to bind them together, and third to reshape the body into something more suiting for Dracula's army. He sticks with the classics, an aquatic merman. Dracula likes to keep a few in the watery caverns in the basement of the castle, a little surprise for trespassers.
A few more tweaks, and the creature's eyes open. It hops up from the slab and twirls, seeking out its creator.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
For relictusdeus - Hunted
[The walk back up the mountain is not a quick one. The paths naturally curl and twist up the mountainside, and Hector doesn't make his way by the most direct route. He wants time to think before he reaches Julia's cottage.
He did mean what he said to Isaac, before they...before the sex. Julia may be better off without either of them. He will do right by her.. whatever that may be.
The night breeze whisks away the scent of blood and sex and sweat that hangs around him. There will be no fooling Julia's eagle eyes, so he tarries, hoping she will be deep asleep so that he can clean himself up before facing her.
There's nothing for him to fear on the mountain. His forged creatures keep monsters away, and no people come here. Well, Isaac had, but Isaac also hadn't killed him.
In any case, it's a slow, contemplative journey, and Hector is focused inward, not outward. When he hears movement along the path behind him, he first assumes it is some nocturnal creature, foraging or hunting for its dinner. But it persists, and Hector is forced to turn his aching body to meet the oncoming form.]
similarly, lemme know if this word dump is ok. I'm sure future tags won't be half as long
It's not the first time a hunter has gotten him wrong: Isaac doesn't burst into flames or crumble to ashes when a jagged bolt punches into him, or when a stake does as he whirls around, wild-eyed. Jacked with fury and adrenaline, he's as alive as he's ever been, roaring for blood while Abel tears through their formation. They break apart and fall back, some in pieces, survivors fumbling desperately to reload. A flask of holy water shatters into Isaac's shoulder, splashing his face as he rips through a man from hip to armpit and severs another's head in the same swing. Someone turns, stumbling back the way he came. They don't make it more than ten feet before Hector's dagger leaves Isaac's hand and catches up, burying into the back of his skull. The one man left alive survives just long enough for Isaac to drive his heel into his crotch and twist it, squeezing everything he needs to know out of him.
There are others on the move: packs of village-grown hunters led around by sorcerers, all humans emboldened by Dracula's fall and determined to reclaim their homeland, piece by piece.
It's not the thought of Hector that makes his stomach swoop when he has Abel take him up into the air and set him down along the steep, craggy footpath leading up the mountain to intercept him. Isaac wasn't counting on a reunion this soon, if at all; but the fierce look in his eyes leaves little room for talk of anything but the situation on hand.]
You will go no further. [He doesn't raise his wet, sheening sword but doesn't sheathe it either, standing with a slight slouch to his shoulders as though he's struggling under the weight of his own blood-soaked cloak.] We are being followed.
[For common hunters, his enemies were clever enough to anoint their weaponry. He managed to wrench the stake from his blistering flesh, but the bolts snapped off, leaving the heads buried. Whether poor craftsmanship or a deliberate choice in its design is to blame, they're aggravatingly effective; he can already feel the blessing leaching from the metal, the wrongness of it as it slowly eats at his insides.]
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[Hector gasps out the greeting when Isaac emerges, but his rival's explanation cuts off any further inquiry. He looks feral, and smells like blood. Hector's immediately on guard.]
Damn it. [So much for going home. Hector's still unarmed and aching. Damn, damn, damn. He and Julia had been so careful to avoid notice. Why now?]
We'll lure them away. I know these paths. If we move quickly, we should be able to lead them on a merry chase.
[He's careful not to mention from where they are diverting their pursuers; he knows not how close they are or if his words will be overheard. More than his life or Isaac's, Hector hold's Julia's safety as paramount. No matter what, he cannot let her come to harm.
He starts to move down a side path, then hesitates as his eyes pass over Isaac's form in the dark. He knows Isaac, has witnessed all manners of his postures and poses. Even in darkness, he knows the silhouette of the man. This slump of his is atypical. Concerning.]
Are you hurt?
[He steps closer to Isaac's side, hyper-aware now of the scent of blood hanging about him.]
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'tis nothing. ...'twill take far more than a few bolts sprinkled with the piss of a priest if they hope to kill me.
[He keeps his sweat-stung eyes to the darkness on the horizon, gaze darting briefly at any sound he can't place or with the feelings on the periphery of his awareness. His lungs shouldn't burn; it shouldn't be this hard, keeping up with Abel's lazy wing beats. He gives his head a brisk shake to clear it, annoyed with himself. Sooner rather than later, he'd need Abel to burrow its claws into him and pick out every burning piece of metal.]
These are hunters by no means as capable ['Or as pretty', he might have mused, in a lighter mood] as the Belmont. But 'twould seem they have recruited men of magic to further their glorious cause. [After a while, he finally slants Hector a look from the corner of his eye.] There is time to fashion yourself a crude weapon. But work quickly.
[Rocks, branches. Not much in the ways of useful raw material, but it's a start.
Open that COMBINE menu!]no subject
Isaac is a tenuous ally at best, but he is the only ally Hector has at the moment. They have the unified goal of keeping the hunters from Julia’s door. Hector wants him well. Isaac would rather die than accept pity, but Hector is counting on the fact that he will recognize the fact that Isaac can’t pull his weight if he bleeds out first.
...the fact they fucked factors in to Hector’s resolve as well, though he does not know where in the puzzle it fits.]
If there’s time for that, then there’s time for me to patch up your wound so you don’t leave a trail for our would-be Belmonts to follow. If it’s as trivial as you claim, it should only take a moment.
[He lengthens his strides so he can outpace Isaac and get out in front of him to bar his path. The fact that he can is a testament to how sorely it is needed.
He won’t risk summoning any of his combative devils when Julia might need to call upon them, but his fairy, he beckons to join them. He might have need of the creature’s skills, if Isaac will let him see the damned wound.]
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Let them come. [Then:] I don't need your help.
[The word is spat out with the venom that uglier four-lettered word deserve, and every line in his body tenses, because he's fine, because the arrowheads are plugging some wounds from bleeding heavier and he knows his limits, knows he can survive and push through this like he has everything else, able to put more distance between them and Julia before he'd desperately need rest.
But he does slip a hand under his cloak and press it to the stake-wound in his side, waiting for the burst of flame from his palm to take, for his skin to sizzle and sting and crust over. It's like lighting wet tinder, has been this way for as long as he's known it. He could pass his arms through fire and his gauntlets would melt and stick to him long before his flesh pinked, bubbling with blisters; it's the raw bite of ice that hurts.]
Now move, and get to work, or you shall the spend the length of our trek dragged over the rocks.
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[Hector’s own pride is smarting, having extended a hand in aid only to have it smacked away. He shouldn’t be so irrationally angry, but he is.
He wrinkled his nose at the revolting stench of burning flesh. If Isaac would rather burn himself than let Hector tend him, so be it.]
I doubt any rock here is as hard as your head....
[He mutters to himself as he turns away from the other forgemaster and finds himself a rock, a branch, and a length of vine. With a few moments of crafting, he comes away with a makeshift mace.]
I’m ready if you are. Try not to fall behind.
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[He bites back, one wounded animal to another. Clenching his jaw, he pushes his battered body along to fall into step at Hector's side, almost desperate to make a point. He didn't need Hector; he didn't need anyone, much less now, he reminds himself, when some of the worst that could've happened had happened and he had crawled his way out of fear to a place of self-respect on his own, drying the last of his tears himself. It's what needed to happen; it's what it means to be strong. One either breaks under terrible force, or bends into a new, sometimes unrecognizable shape. A better one, he decides.]
I was learning to survive long before you showed your pretty little face in the castle!
[The breathless edge to his voice betrays him and he's all the more vicious for it. He hates it all: the way only Hector can burrow under his skin; the uselessness of his own training as his heart pumps more of the poison around and the parts of him that aren't burning grow heavier, number; that wherever they'd camp for the night, together or alone, feels too far away, and dogged determination just isn't enough.
There's no adrenaline left to buffer the pain. He doesn't know when it goes from white noise to a shrill screeching that makes the world around him all floaty and fuzzy around the edges, pushing and pulling his thoughts to half-crazy places, but suddenly he wants - needs to stop, to push his nails into himself and carve his way down, down. Carve all the sickness right out of himself.
His eyes pinch shut.
He grips the hilt of his sword tighter.]
Even with your strongest weapons and devils at your side, neither you nor Dracula's spirit could destroy me, and now... you think you know best, do you? [He huffs, tottering.] That I, I need --
[His knee goes soft all on its own and the ground lurches towards him. He doesn't snap out his arms to break his fall and drops hard, loose pebbles and clods of dirt tumbling after him as he slides partway down the side of the path.]
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He speeds up so that Isaac will have to work to keep the pace. Let him learn his stubbornness has a price.]
You survived because no one cared enough to—
[He turns when he realizes Isaac has gone silent. Somehow, he feels Isaac’s collapse just as surely as he sees it, in the churning of his stomach and the sinking in his chest.
For one brief, panicked motion, Hector’s anger wins out, and he thinks, ‘I’ll leave you there and good riddance.’
He’s at Isaac’s side within the next heartbeat.]
Damn you, Isaac. [He repeats. Abel will never listen to Hector’s orders, not even to save his master, and Isaac can’t or won’t ask god his demon’s help either, so Hector curses him again as he stoops to lift the deceptively heavy frame of his fellow forgemaster.]
Be still, or it’s more than just our lives you’ll be putting at stake. [He growls as he hoists Isaac into his arms, even though he’s not sure if Isaac is even conscious to hear them. There’s a network of caves not far from here; they’ll be as good a place as any to rest briefly and see to this wound of Isaac’s, if the man will just let Hector get them there.]
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He doesn't remember falling.
The flesh does, of course - and it takes only seconds for the dazed ache he's feeling to build to a savage, full-bodied throbbing in the aftershock. His lungs cramp up; his mouth fills. He spits what tastes like dirt and burnt copper and croaks for air, blood webbing his lips. Still alive, if barely. He can't tell how bad it is any better than he can tell up from down while his skull rocks with a violence that feels like it'll split itself open.
Abel circles back, hovering restlessly at his side. A muted growl rumbles in its chest and Isaac shakily lifts his head to look. Through the sunspots dancing in his vision, he makes out the gold accents of a boot, wondering vaguely where he remembers it from. Then there's a voice, drowned out by the rushing in his ears. It could be saying anything; but all he hears is his own breath coming heavy and ragged and Hector's words in a loop:
try to keep up
try to keep up
He coughs. Something jars deep inside him - an ugly, visceral shock, like that something is squirming and alive - wringing tears from his eyes faster than he can blink them back. His brain whites out. He coughs again, wetter, as he grasps his way up the slope and scrabbles clumsily for purchase, fighting to get a gasp in edgewise. His body isn't working like it should; doesn't feel like his own. Not until someone - or something - grabs hold of him. Hands hauling him up and up. His heart lurches. He snaps to awareness with a strangled shout, blinded by anger and hurt and by something dangerously close to fear on an instinctual level, because he's felt this before and knows he has to escape it, to try, or it'd get worse - it could always be worse. But he has already lost, when he twists and another raw stab of pain runs him through. Retching bile, he sees a flash of lights and colours -- and then nothing at all, ragdolling in Hector's grip.]
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Shhhhh.
[He hushes by instinct; Isaac has never been one to follow an order. The cries get muffled by vomit, and Hector has to fumble through the hold to get a hand free to turn Isaac’s head so he doesn’t choke on it. There’s bile on Hector’s clothes and shoes and streaking Isaac’s face. This night gets better and better.
Unconsciousness is a blessing when it comes. At least Hector now only has to contend with dead weight, not with a stubborn idiot crying out.
It would be better to make a roundabout course to their destination, through the streams that flow down the mountain to obscure their path, but Isaac is too poorly off to allow for that. Hector takes the quickest path.
The cave is dark and quiet. Hector eases Isaac out of his arms and onto the cold stone. He moves aside the cloak to examine the hastily cauterized wound. The skin bulges, distorted by some foreign object still inside.]
You’re not going to like this. [He murmurs, taking one of Isaac’s daggers and wiping it clean on his pants. This is the best he can do under the circumstances.
He cuts into the flesh, reopening the wound. The blade is withdrawn and replaced by Hector’s fingers, seeking out the shard he knows must be there. Slow and gentle will prove to be no kindness in the long run, so Hector is quick and deliberate. Feeling through blood and tissue, he finds the broken bit of shaft. He widens the cut and draws out the piece.
A glowing light appears over his shoulder. It’s a familiar light, one Hector does not need to turn to acknowledge. His fairy, finally caught up to them.
With a wordless command, the little devil focuses its energy on the flesh Hector is applying pressure to. It knits the flesh back together, purifying to ward off infection as it accelerates the body’s natural healing process.
Hector uses the water from his canteen to wash the blood from his hands. He tears a strip of cloth from his tunic and wets it to wipe the sick from Isaac’s lips and cheeks.
He needs to leave the cave, to intersect their pursuers before they tract the forgemasters to this hideout.
He lingers for a moment, still kneeling beside Isaac’s prone form. It’s rare to see him still, unguarded.
Hector reaches out a hand to brush sweat-slick hair from his brow. He repeats the motion, with no purpose other than to reassure himself that Isaac has not yet succumbed to his wound. It’s a gentle touch that Isaac would never permit in waking, so Hector steals it while he sleeps.
And then he rises, leaving the fairy to watch over Isaac as he heads to the opening of the cave.]
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He pushes up after a moment, too smoothly, too easily, chains softly rustling. Dirt rains from his hair. Still no pain. Only the violent headrush of sitting up too fast - and then, as it settles, a series of memories flashing through his mind, vivid fragments. The pieces all begin to slot into place when he turns to see a fairy drifting nearby and a man's silhouette against the mouth of the cave.
He stares and stares, feeling like his chest is folding in on itself.
Hector did this.
This is Hector's punishment: leaving him at the mercy of his own demons, the wrenching humiliation and self-hatred that no healer can soothe or cut out of him or draw out with a poultice; a pain that makes him wish that he had never woken up at all, that Hector left him on the mountainside and did them all a favour. Dying is easy, has always been easy; it's living that's hard.
He swats at the fairy, his throat bobbing.]
I never asked for this! [He roars.
Abel looks on from a distance, its lip curling into a snarl.]
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Hush, and stop being rude to my fairy. It saved your life. [The poor harassed devil, a little tiara-type, flits to Hector's side and seats its crystalline backside on his shoulder.
Hector's in no mode for Isaac's tantrum. Isaac has been out for a while, and in that time, Hector has been out into the forest, trying to make a false trail for the hunters to follow further away from both Julia's shop and from their cave. He hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, has barely rested, and so help him if Isaac undoes all of his hard work with his whining, Hector will kill the other forgemaster himself.]
No, you didn't ask, and you were in no shape to, so I acted. Leaving you to die would have only emboldened the hunters to keep going.
[He hates that he has to offer excuses for why he intervened. Isaac won't accept that Hector saved his life for his own sake, though, so he has to go through this song and dance.]
We should be safe here for a little while longer, but we need to be ready to move before the sun fully rises. We have to be seen leaving this area so that they will have no reason to search any further.
[He's drag Isaac out if he has to. If that's the only way to keep both Laforezes safe, so be it.]
poor Hector cares too much
...Safe.
[He repeats, quietly, with the leering sneer of a man who doesn't believe in the word. He swallows against the burning lump of shame in his throat.] And then what? Walking longer yet to the ends of the earth? Setting out to sea, perhaps?
[Any mention of 'we' is carefully left out; he doesn't know what his own intentions really are any more than he knows Hector's, beyond the immediate plan he's laid out. But it's easy to assume that somewhere along the way, there'll be a parting of ways; one last goodbye, before hell would bring them together again.]
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We’ll lead them away from here. Until that’s done, nothing that comes after matters.
[Hector isn’t a planner, isn’t a leader. He doesn’t know what to do other than to react to the threat before them. What he wants is to curl up on the cold stone beside Isaac and bury his head in the crook of Isaac’s neck, to let the heat of his skin and the beat of his pulse lull him while his body rests.
He is pretty sure Isaac would put his dagger through Hector’s heart before he’d allow that.]
...I don’t know where I am headed after. We’d be stronger together, not that you’d care, but once we’re clear of the mountain and sure the hunters have been drawn away, you can be rid of me.
[He assumes that is what Isaac wants, now that he’s conquered the bit of Hector he’d wanted.]
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[Luring enemies to their deaths is the sort of end he'd hope for for these humans; not letting them be, each one of them an untied loose end. He tugs his cloak tighter around his shoulder and hunches against the cold, sparking a small ball of flame from his palm. He turns his hand, idly rolling it between his fingers and over his knuckles as if it's a marble, longing for the heat and comfort of a proper fire, smoke be damned.]
Together, that many more of them could be slain. [And their bodies infused with new life, made to fight or sent off in different directions, leading others astray.] And with every corpse, one less threat to darken Julia's doorstep.
[He snaps a first over the fire, snuffing it out, and looks up to Hector again, his pale eyes gleaming.]
Abel shall keep watch. [It has three more eyes than either of them do, and they're better suited to sensing movement, more so in the dark.] If they are near enough, he will see them... and you shall sense their presence as well.
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Self defense is one thing, but once they are away from Julia, there’s no need....
[The men chasing them aren’t evil, or if they are, it is independent of their pursuit. They are just men, trying to protect their families and make the world safer.
If it comes down to it, Hector will kill to protect his own, but he won’t seek out the battle. Julia wouldn’t want them dead, just gone.]
Just be ready to move when the sun rises. We may end up with no choice but to fight.
[He takes a seat, more than an arm’s length from Isaac on the cold stone. He’s not that masochistic to come any closer, even if they are the only sources of heat available to the other.
He pulls out his canteen, newly filled from one of the chilly mountain streams, and offers it across the distance between them.]
Drink. You lost blood earlier, and you need to stay hydrated.
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Hector's eyes are still, black pools. Isaac sees nothing he can recognize in them - it's too dark. But he keeps looking, unblinking, as he breathes in the musk that sticks to Hector's clothes, what's left of their sweat and their come from a time that seems like it never existed, and feels his cock twitch, his bare skin tingling.
He looks down at the offered canteen, hesitating. This isn't concern, he reasons; it's simply the pragmatic thing to do. Hector wants him fit to travel, not a burden - and in that, at least, they can agree.
Wordlessly, he lifts it to his lips. The first sip he reserves for rinsing out his mouth, having the decency to turn his head when he spits. Then, a proper swallow, long and greedy, and god, it takes like gold, soothing his burning throat. He lets himself have another before passing it back, knuckling his chin dry.]
I am almost impressed you could walk as far as you have without the aid of your precious fairy. [He says, lowly.]
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And then Isaac opens his mouth. It takes Hector a second for the meaning of the words to register, and his eyes go wide in shock.]
Wha...?! You vastly overestimate your performance or your size, Isaac.
[It's lucky the darkness and Hector's tan complexion hide any signs of a flush on his face. He takes the canteen back, but doesn't drink.]
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Perhaps 'twas wrong of me to think you a sweet, tender flower, a trembling virgin on the nuptial bed. ...But I did have you prepared, out of the kindness of my heart. [Letting out a loose, throaty chuckle at his own choice of words.] And your cunt was most willing to receive.
[He hums low in his throat, a sound both contemplative and appreciative, as he lets his eyes slip shut, wanting to hold onto the sense-memory of skin rasping skin and his hot, gritty tightness; the taste of forbidden fruit. The back of his neck prickles and his fingers itch, restless for something to do.]
...Was I your first?
[He asks after a while, slanting him a sideways, half-lidded look. The first to push inside, is what he means.]
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Your demon was.
[If Isaac wants to know the first one to breach him there, it's the truth.]
I know it means nothing to you, but...I don't spread my legs for anyone who asks.
['So stop trying to get yourself killed?' 'Let us work together?' 'Shut up and lay beside me so we can stop freezing to death in this damned cave?' He doesn't know how to end the thought, so he stops there and just lays down, turning his back to Isaac. There, conversation over....right? They both need to rest before the sun rises.]
don't worry, hec, you'll feel some heat soon
How fortunate for you, then.
[He says to Hector's back, choosing not to interpret his body language in the way he suspects it's meant to be taken. Hector can escape the strain of sustained eye contact, but the conversation isn't over, only temporarily put on hold while he considers the gentle curve of Hector's spine, the rise and fall of his side. Considers the faith Hector still has in their truce and his own ability to honour it.]
You would not have been able to keep a secret of it, if you did.
[Or it doesn't seem possible anyway, as far as life in the castle was concerned. Demons talked, the walls had ears.
And Isaac had been listening closely, sifting through rumours and lies for what he hoped - and at times, dreaded - was true.]
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It’s only after Rosaly that he craves the warmth of skin pressed against his, to stave off the loneliness he’d never let himself acknowledge when he’d been at the castle.]
You’re worse than a gossiping old maid. Go to sleep.
[He’d certainly heard the whispers of what Isaac did to his demons at the castle, and he’s pointedly trying to not think of it. The harder he tries to ignore it, the more pervasive the thoughts become. His body remembers the shuddering pleasure of Abel’s tongue, the overpowering sensation of surrendering to Isaac and letting himself be thoroughly used.
His whole body is tense and cold and frustrated, and the relief of sleep refuses to come to him.]
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...I am, am I?
[He doesn't care if Hector answers him this time, much in the same way he stops caring altogether when he shifts over and tucks himself into Hector, seeking heat and the familiarity of his angles and edges, seeking Hector's softness where he's just beginning to harden. An arm snakes around his waist, dipping to palm Hector through the leather of his pants and squeeze. It's meant to hurt - not fiercely, but enough for the hitch in his lungs he hopes to hear, and for Hector to listen, when his hot, feathering breath finds the shell of his ear.]
...Had anyone had you in that castle, of or against your will, I'd have killed them.
[The effect of his velvety growl may be spoiled somewhat by his shivering into Hector's back.]
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Isaac's body heat feels scalding against his back as he closes in. The comfort is offered and immediately shattered by Isaac's hand grasping his member. He does gasp, squirming back into the hard curve of Isaac's body in an instinctive defense. He can't escape the hold.]
...this isn't a good idea...
[It's a weak protest at best. The proximity and the painful fisting of his cock has Hector's heart racing. He's been hollowed out in the wake of Rosaly's death. Isaac's possession is a warped imitation of affection, but to a starving man, even scraps will do.
He wraps his hand over Isaac's, but he doesn't force Isaac to let him go. Would Isaac have actually avenged him, had he been forced against his will? Was it the bond of their twinned powers, or a misplaced sense of ownership?
Does it matter, or is Hector broken enough and sick enough not to care? He presses himself harder into Isaac's chest. Isaac is a heat that is guaranteed to burn him, but the alternative is freezing.]
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He feels Hector lock up against him and his hand closing around his, the urgency in it. But can't feel him the way he wants to, the touch of his skin through leather and fabric.]
...You brought this on yourself.
[But even as he says it, he's easing his grip and letting go, little by little, because the answer to the question unasked is both. There's something inside him still, some good that managed to survive this long by staying hidden, always struggling with the cold indifference of the world and his own desperate, selfish desires. He nuzzles the crook of Hector's neck and breathes him in, head swimming with the spice of his skin, with every bad idea he's ever had. But of all the many ways he's destroyed Hector and will keep hurting him, his hands as skilled in creation as they are at ruining everything they touch, the thought of shoving Hector over and pushing him into him, unwanted, must stay a thought, even if he isn't entirely sure why.
He's less sure of why it matters, whether or not Hector will think differently of him for his restraint.]
Should man lie with man as with a woman, they have committed an abomination... [he drawls, eyes closing] ...They must surely be put to death and their blood shall be upon them.
[His hand lingers where he and Hector left it, but it has gone soft, no meanness to it.]
'twas among the first passages I ever learned to read.
Hector's a sap, news at 11
You're blameless, I'm sure.
[It's a terrible time for this, a terrible place. There are hunters on the mountain, ready to spill their blood. But within the safety of this cave, that danger is removed, remote. Abel keeps watch, and that leaves the two forgemasters free to make poor decisions.
Isaac's words steal the breath from Hector. He too was taught from the cradle that God's wrath would be upon him, the cursed child of the night. For Hector, it was because of the creatures that flocked to him. For Isaac, they must have ascribed a different source of otherness. He aches, recalling the taunts and the beatings he endured, and wondering if it had been the same for his rival.
He shifts in Isaac's arms, turning to face him.]
It doesn't have to be like that. Fire and brimstone, blood and suffering...it's not the first lie the church has told.
[He presses his lips to Isaac's, trying to imbue in his touch the ways this act between men could be tender, loving, if only they'd allow it to be.]
:']
He tenses. His jaw doesn't soften into it, but he doesn't push back either.
It's a slow thing, so gentle it shouldn't be happening at all. A whole other world of touch from teeth and nails, pushing and pulling. But of everything he's ever felt, it's this that hurts most, because it doesn't make sense; because he's done nothing to deserve it. And no one ever told him it could be so sweet.
On a different night, he might've scoffed. Could've laughed in Hector's face, the easiest thing to do. But something in this kindness keeps pulling at him, willing him to stay, to soak up everything Hector can offer, like a dying plant, and he feels sick. There isn't anyone like Hector - there never was and never would be. And god help them both, Hector's either teasing him or, worse, has no idea what he's doing, falling for the idea of making a human connection, or missing love so badly he'll settle for anything, anyone.
Isaac pulls away suddenly, his eyes wide and silvery, darkening as he sits up. His chest heaves. He needs air, needs out. He needs the edge of his knife slicing another scar-to-be into himself to feel right again, or the closest thing to it. But reaching for it means turning and showing his face, and he can't do it, not when it's twisting against his every effort, his breath rattling in his throat. It's his turn to show his back, his effort to end a conversation before it can even happen.]
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I could show you how it could be. [He says into Isaac’s ear, an offer likely doomed for failure.
Isaac's retreat hurts, even though Hector should have known better than to make such an advance.
The closeness, the warmth, Hector refuses to surrender. That, at least, they can grant one another. As Isaac had done a moment before, Hector twines his arms around his body and fits them together, front to back. His hand finds a more innocent purchase than Isaac’s had, settling on the hard plane of Isaac’s chest, feeling for the beat of his heart.]
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This is how it starts, a little voice tells him.
Taking his eyes off Hector, turning his back. Doomed by a split second's carelessness.
He should've left Hector to sleep, should've made his own mind and left before dawn, alone. But life is full of missteps and mistakes, some more dangerous than others. Should've been stronger, fought harder.
Should've known better.
Despite how careful Hector's movements are - and maybe because they are, too, his mind given more time to tailspin over all the terrible possibilities he can think of - he feels himself flinch and go numb, paralyzed in the way he hasn't experienced since he was still a boy. It's the closest he's let anyone approach him from behind in just as long; the ones he let was because he had to, when he still occupied the lowest rungs of the castle hierarchy and he learned there was safety in keeping his head down and swallowing his rage, his pride, than in rising to a challenge he couldn't hope to beat. The only reason he thinks he hasn't driven his elbow back and into Hector, struggling away from him, is because he still can't, trapped by his own body. But it's more complicated than that. His muscles twitch with everything they can't unlearn, his heartbeat racing under Hector's hand. Would that Hector could reach inside him and tear it out, not to keep for himself but to get rid of it for good.]
Don't. [Is all he can get out through his teeth, and his voice sounds thick and shaky and wrong. Almost unrecognizable but for the anger in it. ]
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Shhhh. [He soothes, the way he used to do for wild animals whose wounds he wanted to draw near to heal. No more kisses, that’s fine. He won’t press further. It was a long shot anyways.]
We’re just sleeping. You can hold me if you’d rather, but neither of us need to freeze this night.
[He doesn’t have the energy to fight any more than that, and he shifts against Isaac as gently as he can, trying to find the least uncomfortable position to doze. If Isaac breaks away from him, they will both be enduring a miserable few hours until they leave the cave
In the morning, Hector will puzzle over Isaac, can make a plan to slowly acclimate him to kindness... but tonight, both his body and mind have reached their limits.]
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[Isaac hisses, still so wired and helpless but to wait for the shock to ease off, wait for the moment the past lets go and he can breathe, really breathe, again.
Through the half-panic whirling through him, he does realize that Hector hasn't really moved, his hand at rest, making no demands of him. Hector never was a conqueror. But what Hector is in this moment, curved into his trembling back, quiet and warm and shushing him, is beyond him. The part of Isaac that isn't caught between bristling and wanting to jump out of his own skin would laugh a sick, sad laugh. If only he could.
Come morning, when the harsh light of day would touch down and lay their choices bare, he's sure Hector will remember Rosaly and his betrayal in fraternizing with the enemy, and in silence they'd work to forget that Hector ever dared to lay a kiss on his lips and make him feel like there was one thing still right with the world, at least for a little while.
They're both mistakes, and history would suggest that two wrongs never make a right.
But for now, for now, they're just sleeping.
And eventually, broken and folding under the strain of being on edge for so long, Isaac fades, fades, his body finally softening into Hector's chest.]
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Isaac's hair tickles against his nose, and Hector takes a moment to inhale, not wanting to begin the process of extracting himself and standing just yet. He shifts his head and his lips brush against Isaac's scalp, a press that is not quite a kiss. His fingers trail across his chest as he withdraws from the embrace, one final soft touch before the harshness that will inevitably follow when Issac awakens.
Hector rolls onto his back, groans softly, then starts to push himself up. His fairy summons up a wisp of magic to ease his aching muscles. He nods in Isaac's direction, a silent order to grant Isaac the same boon.
Being allowed those soft, stolen touches reminds Hector of his time with Rosaly. He won't turn her memory into hate. She was always the kind of person who was almost unreasonably good. She would want forgiveness, redemption for anyone, even one who had harmed her.
Hector has run his fingers across the jagged, broken pieces of Isaac, and he's not sure they are mendable. He's going to cut himself to ribbons if he tries. He's going to try. That, not the curse-driven desire to kill her killer, is what Rosaly would want of him.]
Are you awake? [He whispers. Outside of the cave, he thinks he hears movement, though it's hard to pinpoint. It is time to be up and away from this place.]
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Isaac's body gives a little jerk when he wakes, staring at the same wall he fell asleep to. It's a lighter shade of gray now, like Abel's scuted hide; outside, day is breaking, but it seems neither of them are in any great hurry. He lies very still under the tingling touch to the back of his head, lies like he used to, breath bitten back and a dagger in his hand, only feigning sleep - to the shifting of fabric and flesh, his skin prickling. Hector doesn't touch him again. Instead, he feels magic wash over him, cool and calming, a leeching of pain from his muscles. The tension knotting them, however, is there to stay.
To Hector, he says nothing. But he climbs to his feet with hollow-eyed determination, not looking his way, and in a single movement answers several questions. It takes a moment for the dizziness to pass from swinging up off the ground, though when his vision steadies and the fog in his head thins, the only thing that feels real, that assures him he isn't sleeping still, is the brisk morning chill and the heaviness in his bladder. When he pisses off to the side, he neither turns away nor makes a show of it, finishing with a shake and tucking himself away before he moves to gather his weapons. He glances to the cave entrance where Hector and his fairy happen to be waiting. He'll meet his gaze sternly, with shoulders squared, fingers squeezing and unsqueezing around the hilt of his sword.
Abel rejoins him.]
Do you sense them near? [He'll duck out, squinting, into the pale, silvery light before waiting too long for an answer, meaning to get a read on their immediate surroundings himself.]
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They're getting closer. We should go now if we want to stay ahead of them.
[He still hopes, naively, to lead them away and part without any more bloodshed. If not for Julia's presence on the mountain, he would swear that he would do them no harm; since her safety is on the line, though, he will do whatever is necessary.
Isaac is already moving, never one to slow himself down for anyone else's sake. All Hector can do is follow, keeping low and watching his step to make sure he doesn't make any noise to alert the approaching hunters.]
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It's like old times, cutting bloody swathes through the enemy with Hector at his side -- and if there's anything of Hector he feels he can trust, it's his ability to hold his own. Isaac spares only a quick glance his way until the last man has fallen - an amateur sorcerer who can't outrun his dagger - and the world around them is still again. Sunlight is just slanting through a bank of clouds, trees stirring softly. Life goes on without missing a beat, just like it always does. And the cycle of blood for blood goes unbroken.
Huffing, Isaac shoves his heel down over the corpse and bends to jerk his red, dripping knife from its back, giving it a shake before sheathing it at his boot. He finds a cross glinting in the grass on the way back and sneers at its uselessness. Not the first time the Good Lord had failed the faithful - and far from the last, he muses.]
...'twas child's play.
[Sweat gleams at his forehead and the hollow of his throat, but he looks galvanized, hard from the rush of blood and magic and restless for a challenge.]
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When the fight is won, however, and he's left holding a mace bloodied with the pulp from inside of an unfortunate hunter's cracked skull, everything comes rushing back. There is no elation like there was in fighting Isaac. He struggles to keep from vomiting.
The makeshift weapon drops from his hand and he doesn't pick it up. He takes a shaky step toward Isaac. Wild, feral, victorious Isaac, who is taunting the fallen men with no concern for the lives that had been ended.]
They didn't hurt you? [The only way through this is to compartmentalize. Focus on his ally, and leave thoughts of the enemies until he can process them. Hector can make sure Isaac is unharmed. He can do nothing more to or for the men on the ground before them.]
We should keep moving. [The sick scent of blood and death, which he'd been so accustomed to in the past, is striking him anew and turning his stomach. 'Julia is safe. Isaac is safe. We did what we had to to make that so.' If he keeps telling himself that, he can force himself to keep going, and forcibly turn his thoughts away from whether these men had familes.]
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So he kills, and he laughs.
Whether Julia had ever understood that, he doesn't know, and tries not to care. She could do anything she wanted to try and change Wallachia, to heal everything that was wrong with it, he thinks, but she could never change him.
His smirk falters at Hector's unsteady approach, his empty hand. Something stirs inside him, closer to wariness than worry, and he doesn't like it. Hector doesn't seem wounded, but in the same way Hector is wondering about the blood streaking his furred cloak and scant armour plating, he can't be sure. He narrows his eyes, his gaze seeking the fairy before snapping back to Hector's face.]
Then arm yourself. [He says, more a command than anything else.]
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He sees the weapon, and leaves it where it fell. He's broken every resolution he's made in his life, and he may be destined to break this too, but he can't pick up a weapon he knows he'll have to turn against his fellow men again. Demons and creatures, he will fight without question, but this murder, this slaughter...he can't repeat.
The world isn't kind enough to suffer a pacifist to live, and he knows that he'll be forced to kill again one day to defend himself. But right now, today, he can't force himself to take his bloodied mace back up.]
...I don't sense anyone else around. If we go now, we won't have need of it.
[He starts walking out of the corpse-filled copse without waiting for Isaac's answer or his scorn.]
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Hector! [He calls out after him, his mouth shaping his name into a warning, a weapon. But it's no use; Hector's free to safely defy his authority without threat of a higher power for Isaac to report to, and there's no punishment that can stamp out this infuriating reluctance he's seen rise in Hector before. Only death could free him of it, but by then, it'd be far too late.
Hurt and disgust curls in his gut.]
You damned fool!
[The mace goes flying after Hector, narrowly missing him.
Under the curse, Isaac remembers he had said that those who didn't fight didn't deserve to live, and he feels those same words weighing heavy on the tip of his tongue. Only the thought of Julia, it seems, keeps them there.
There'd be other slayers out for their heads - he's sure of it, just as surely as he'd seek to bait them out - and they wouldn't hesitate. Because the world isn't and would never be a place where everyone could live as equals, in peace, would never be safe enough for the hunted to afford to put their conscience, if any, ahead of what Isaac considers good sense.]
Think you this is some jest? That 'tis mercy they will show you should you spare their wretched lives? [A beat.] Will you heal their wounds in hopes that they invite you to their homes for dinner?
[He makes to catch up a in a few short, aggressive strides.]
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We won't need to face them at all if we leave. Do hunters seek out every wolf in the forest? No, they only go after the ones that threaten their lives and livelihoods. If we stay out of their way, don't draw attention to ourselves, they won't keep seeking us out.
[Every thing has its place. Hector doesn't know what remote corner of the world his is hidden in, but he can wander until he finds it. Better to be a hermit than a murderer. There is darkness inside of Hector, but it's not so deeply entrenched as to let him take lives without remorse. He could become that, with practice, and that scares him more than the thought of having to constantly hide himself away from the world.]
There will only be a handful of people that ever accept us, but the rest....we are stronger than them. We can keep out of their reach without turning to violence.
[Violence breeds only more violence, after all. More hunters will come seeking vengeance for the first. They have to break the cycle if they ever want to find peace.]
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No!
[Growling, Isaac manages to overtake him, moving to cut him off in the same way Hector had the other night. He whirls on him, wide-eyed. The thought alone that life could come back full circle after everything he's tried to escape, that Hector would have him keep his head down and be inconspicuous, tears old wounds wide open. A savage pain that makes him want to beat Hector senseless until he remembered where and what he came from. What drove him to Dracula in the first place.
For years, I fled those beasts because I hadn't a choice--! [He snarls, despairing.] For years, I drowned in fear and helplessness, having naught but the belief that, perhaps, if only I prayed hard enough, He would listen, and would grant me protection and refuge. That He would make a place for me!
[He supposes God did, though, in a funny, fucked up sort of way. Showed him the path to a castle full of monsters and washed his hands of him.
Isaac's gaze steels over.]
...But that time has long since passed -- and I will hide in the shadows no longer so that the humans might live more comfortably!
[There needed to be something more to life than just surviving - and then, one day, Hector had shown it was possible. Hector stole his dream and made settling in seem so damn effortless that watching him thrive among humans, loving and being loved, had cut him as deeply as watching him in bed through his scrying ball.
In three short years, Hector had proven there could be hope for anyone. But not for him.]
What I am doing now, this running, is for Julia's sake. [He says through his teeth] But the moment, the very instant we are clear of this mountain pass, I will live and go as I please, and any man wanting my head will meet his death.
[A beat.]
If you love them so very much, then go to them. [Making a sweeping gesture.] Go and mingle with their kind, and leave me be.
[Better for the both of them in the short and long run, taking all the complication out of sharing the same spaces, of not knowing what he wants and what's real and what he's winning and losing by letting Hector tear down his defenses stone by stone.]
God knows you would.
[In some other land, at least, if not this one.
With a sharp twist of his heel, a whirl of his cloak, he turns back towards the path, willing Abel to move in.]
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Isaac....
[He doesn’t want to try to reclaim what he had with Rosaly with another. He doesn’t know what the future will look like, but... he’s not ready to abandon Isaac to the darkness. Seeing the brokenness that formed him, he can’t help but want to show Isaac the same kindness Rosaly had shown him.]
You are not helpless anymore...and neither are you alone. We could go together, and what is there to fear with the two of us to face it?
[He will take up the weapon, even if he thinks not to use it, in hopes it will help sooth some of those old wounds. He follows Isaac, not planning to let him go off on his own to take out his frustrations on more hunters.]
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Not alone.
What it could've meant to know that, have that, when he had needed it most. When riding out the brightest time in Hector's life amid the darkest part of his own, with only himself and his inner demons for company.
He blinks through a stinging blurriness and tosses his head to clear it, angrily pressing onwards.]
There is nothing I fear. [Jutting his jaw.] ...And if it is your desire to tether me now, [his voice is raw, wavering] I am warning you once, and once alone-- [Stopping, he turns to look Hector square in the eye] ...stay out of my way.
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Only once? Good, then I won't have to hear it again.
[He is not exactly in Isaac's way. He's at his side, where for so long, no one has stood.
'Bless you, Rosaly,' he thinks to himself. When he had stood in much the same place as Isaac, broken and alone and convinced that he was unlovable, she had accepted him. When he'd walked away, she had followed, never forcing him, but always offering him a place beside her. He'd slithered out of the darkness and she had been like the sun, at first too bright to look at, but eventually coming to be a source of light and life, vital to him. He had not even realized all she had done for him until now, seeing the lack of it in Isaac.
He can never hope to offer the same gentleness and patience as Rosaly, but even a pale reflection is better than nothing.]
I know a place in the foothills where we can camp for the night. We should be able to reach it before night falls, if we waste no more time.
['So long as you don't fight me on this, Isaac,' he means.]
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Hector's navigational sense and familiarity with the finer details of the landscape thankfully see them through. At dark, they reach a quiet clearing nestled among evergreens, where Isaac trudges around on aching legs to help pile dry leaves and twigs together. His boots aren't fit for travel and have chafed the patch of skin above his heels raw, but at rest, he elects to leave them on.
After the day they've had, simply basking in the heat of a humble bonfire and picking at a meal of roasted lizards feels almost indulgent. He doesn't complain, doesn't say much of anything while crunching through charred skin and spitting the many little bones aside.]
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He too shares what meager supplies he has, offering his canteen to Isaac before he drinks any of it and adding some nuts and an unfortunate squirrel to their meal.
They eat in a silence that isn’t quite companionable, but can’t be said to be hostile. Hector will take that, for now.
He strips off his boots and gives his aching feet a rub as he checks for blisters by the light of the fire. He sighs as he digs his thumbs into the weary soles.]
You’re next. [He tells Isaac. They have to keep moving tomorrow, and that means taking care of themselves tonight. Hector tries not to push too hard, knowing Isaac to be skittish about any order he gives, no matter how well-meaning. His tone, he aims for easy. ‘Of course you will accept this, no question.’]
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Crossing his legs, he takes up a stick and stirs the logs some, throwing another look around the clearing. It feels too open to give himself permission to fully relax; no walls to put his back up against. Were there trees of a different sort in their midst, with thicker branches and no needles, he'd consider climbing up and sleeping leaned up against the trunk, readily trading comfort for a sense of safety and a decent vantage point.]
I do hope you are prepared for the morrow. [He husks, as if Hector spent most of the trip lagging behind. And because he didn't, it's nothing more than some half-hearted attempt to make conversation.]
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He’ll wash up in the morning before they leave here, when having wet skin and wet hair will not doom him to a cold night. It might even feel nice despite the cool weather, depending on how grueling a pace they set tomorrow.]
Have you decided where you will go?
[He keeps his eyes downward, focused on the pale foot in his hands, purposely casual and non-threatening. It’s a tenuous alliance, and Hector has to be careful with how he proceeds.]
I know of some islands to the south. Warm clime, secluded, where people look to their own affairs, not to anyone else’s.
[He releases the first foot and draws up the second to repeat his ministrations.]
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You'd have made a passable servant in the castle, with your pretty mouth alone. [He muses, pointedly ignoring the question.] I have a little itch.
[It's his way of feeling out where Hector's boundaries lie while wondering what he gets out of this at all, what his angle is. There has to be something, his cynicism reminds him, or he wouldn't be so willing. If Hector looks like he's taken the hint and is moving to service him, he'll offer a stern, quiet 'no' and turn his hand or his face away in refusal, whichever is closest.]
I've heard rumours of new lands far to the West, over the water.
[Isaac says, eventually, not sounding particularly committed as he's never given the specifics serious thought. What other places may hold for him won't be much better, if at all, he suspects. But he'll settle for different, whatever that might look like. A new world and all its trappings, all its pleasures and disappointments.]
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I would have made a very poor servant, for by your word, you would have killed anyone I served.
[He does not give in to the goading, though, if he is honest with himself, he would not be opposed to taking Isaac's cock in his mouth again, or feeling Isaac's fingers grasp tight in his hair and forcing Hector's mouth around his cock. His own perversions, he will have to put aside. If he is to have any hope of getting through to Isaac, he can only reach out with gentle, innocent touches. For anything more, he must be still, and let Isaac come to him, if he wills it.]
It would be a long way by boat to reach those lands. Have you sailed on the open ocean before?
[He finishes with the massage and stops himself before he's tempted to move from weary feet to shapely ankles, where he could trace inked lines further up where they disappear into tight leather. He leans back on his hands.]
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I was never so fortunate as to have the means.
[All his life experience is based on land, with many of his years spent in a small house tucked in the woods not far from Cordova, when it was thrived, once upon a time; The rest was in and around the castle, where what he knows of sea travel was gleaned from many maps and books in the library. He's aware that for everything he has learned as an alchemist and a general, a survivalist and weaponsmith, there are many gaps in his knowledge, so much of the world and its workings left untouched and untasted.
Maybe in a different life, a different time, he and Julia could've sought their luck out on the open water, stailing from island to island in search of home - a real home.
He snorts wryly, drifting back to reality.]
'twas not until my eleventh year when I had even set foot in a town, never mind a boat. [He can still remember what it was like, keeping to the shadows, queasy with fear and excitement.]
...And then I had only a good look about for a night or two, before my curiosity was met with swift punishment.
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My father studied alchemy, and he dragged my mother and I along behind him as he traveled to learn more. I hated the towns. The children threw rocks at me, and the old women crossed themselves when I passed by.
[They'd recognized an otherness in him and rejected it instinctively. Hector drudges up the old memories, not to compare with Isaac's, but to meet his honesty and the vulnerability that comes of it with the same.]
We did take a boat a time or two before we...parted ways. I remember enough of it. I should be able to prepare us for the journey, if you wish to take it.
[To fully cross the sea, they will need to book passage on a vessel, but to see them a shorter distance, he thinks he could manage.]
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He listens, expressionless. It's hard to know what's worse: to be let in someplace but scorned by the company one kept, or to be shut out forever. Either way, no good ever comes of a child who grows up feeling hated, isolated, and the something approaching sympathy softens the rougher edges of his voice when he finally answers.]
I shall think on it. [Though the answer is closer to a yes than it isn't, it seems unwise to decide on a impulse, much less when tired, and when sleep has a way of putting things into perspective.] I take it that you will regardless? Bound for 'warmer climes'?
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All else being equal, I would like that. I was born further south, and I have no love for snow or ice.
[He has survived the harsh winters in the mountains, and if Isaac chooses to lead him somewhere cold, he will bear it. He hopes for warmth, though. One of the few things he remembers fondly from Dracula’s keep was the ingenious devices that could heat the castle all year round.]
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A forgemaster on a boat...
[Chuckling grimly, he tosses a twig into the fire with a careless flick of his wrist.
A log snaps, spitting sparks.]
...It resembles the beginnings of a joke.
[It also does seem like a cruel form of torture for restless men like himself, being cooped up on some vessel for long stretches of time with little to do other than to stretch his legs and look around, or fish. For better or for worse, he wouldn't drown instantly if a little boat capsized. He learned how to keep his head above the water thanks to a then-terrifying trial resulting in being pushed into a pool teeming with mermen, but swimming gracefully is a whole other story. ]
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[Hector is blessed with a strong stomach, but in those youthful travels, he’d seen the meek and the mighty alike brought low from seasickness. A miserable trip would be made absolutely hellish if Isaac be one of that number who cannot stomach the waves.]
If we were to make for the new world, we would have to book passage on a larger vessel, with a crew that knows how to navigate the open waters. You’d have to play nice.
[Or else the joke would end with them overboard or on a boat filled with corpses and no idea how to get themselves to their destination.]
learn how to teleport, hector, GOSH
How bold of you to assume I would be welcome to board in the first place.
[He lets that hang in the air, thinking. Then he huffs to himself, as if remembering an old, bitter joke.]
...But a few months ago, you had wanted my head on a pike, and now, you would have us ... elope, [he says, with a mocking toss of his head] ...like forbidden lovers.
[It's still running away no matter how he looks at it, a cop-out, instead of standing his ground like he should and viciously defending his right to exist in his homeland, at any cost. But maybe there's something to this silly little idea they're tossing around. Maybe, with Julia's safety secured, he'd be able to find something else worth staying alive for while out at sea, another reason to keep pushing forward. Or maybe he's too muzzy-headed to think straight and Hector is wearing him down, rubbing off on him.
Scoffing, he half-turns from the bonfire and lies back in the grass, settling. The air is cool, tinged with the bitter hint of smoke; he pulls it deep into his lungs, stretching to the gentle popping of joints and ligaments. It's a nice night - clear and calm, the sky spattered with the same constellations Julia could see if she were out right now, looking heavenward for guidance. But like all nice things, it wouldn't last forever.]
Only with chairs so it doesn't break the game, sheesh
[It's not an optimistic view of humanity, but it's true. So long as they can pay for their passage and they keep from being openly hostile, Hector thinks they could manage the journey with relative ease.]
A few months ago, we were both under the thrall of the curse. Neither of us were fully in control of our actions.
[He ignores the gibe about elopement. They are, in some sense, lovers. They have known each other carnally. And if Hector has his way, they will be going off together, so Hector can protect Isaac. He's not going to make light of the situation the way Isaac does.]
Do you want to sleep first? I can take first watch.
[He makes the offer stiffly. He made a bed for them in their makeshift camp, and here Isaac is lying on the grass instead. Endlessly vexing, this red-headed demon. Still, Hector is bound to him, and will see to it that he can rest without worry of any intruders.]
FINE
...What if I knew very well what it was I was doing?
[He asks, while absently thumbing a scar seaming his belly. There's a pause, then, like he's hoping Hector to weigh in, to struggle to prove otherwise and realize he can't.]
With every passing day I watched you from afar... [he wets his lips, dreamily musing aloud] ...I would conjure up novel ways of torturing you within an inch of your life, only to heal your wounds and start anew. I wondered how long I could keep you alive before you broke in my hands like a child's toy and could no longer recognize yourself in the mirror. Do you know how very long I contemplated taking you by force well before the curse fed my deepest, blackest desires?
[He laughs to himself, though his smile doesn't reach his eyes.]
You said it yourself: you know not what it is I'm capable of. Who is to say I would not leave you adrift, were disaster to strike? 'tis in my means to teleport, after all. You, on the other hand... would be utterly helpless.
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Yet you only acted when the curse fell upon you, not before.
[He has to laugh as well, a single bitter bark, devoid of humor.]
Gods, Isaac, do you think I have not thought of murder, of violence, of taking what I want by force? I have heard voices in my head, willing me to evil since I was a child! I have done everything in my power to quiet them, but still, still I hear their whispers. But it matters not what evil thoughts come, so long as they stay thoughts and nothing more.
[He has to believe Isaac can overcome his dark impulses, because he believes himself capable of it. He balls his fists, wills his heart and his breaths to calm.]
And no, I know not what you would do, if we were faced with crisis. We will find out when it happens. But I have not proven myself without resource, and if I find myself alone, it will not be helpless. Now, first watch or second? If you aren't going to sleep, I am.
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We. [He echoes, a mocking note sharp in his voice. It looms between them with all the weight of a death sentence.] ...Ever since I fucked you, you've clung to me like a burr. No fool am I, Hector - do not think I know not from whence comes this... [his nose wrinkles] ...sentiment.
[He pushes off the ground to sit upright, his chest heaving deeply. There's air all around him but it's not enough, his lungs feeling tight.]
The only reason you turn to me now is naught but pure desperation. [It's a word he spits into Hector's face like a hot piece of food.] You have nothing and no one, so you scrabble for what precious pity scraps this life has to offer -- even I, the lesser, the spare, a non-entity in the three years you wallowed in paradise.
[Eyes piercing, shiny-wet, his lips curve into a sliver of a smile that could cut steel.]
Were you in your right mind, you'd never forgive yourself for lying with me, for spitting on your woman's memory... and that burning shame would haunt you for the rest of your days.
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How I choose to make peace with my wife is none of your concern.
[He is trying to be open, to be patient, but he can't about this. His words are cold, meant to be the final ones he'll speak on the subject. Isaac shall not speak of Rosaly to him, not without consequence.]
I am not here for want of options. I am here because I choose to be. I have no intention of celibacy, but if you dislike my 'sentiment', I need not fulfill those needs with you.
[If Isaac wants to dig into his flaws, Hector can respond in kind. Green-eyed envy is the devil that sits on Isaac's shoulder, jealous and violently possessive. Hector makes a clumsy jab at it.]
Would you have me find a new lover? I could, easily enough. I don't drive people away like you do. Maybe it would put you in a better mood if I did. You could sulk in the shadows and spy with your magic while we fuck, just like old times.
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Isaac's eyes goes wide and blank and stricken, blood slamming his eardrums --
-- and in his hiving thoughts he sees himself reaching out to snap Hector's neck in a single, decisive jerk of his hands. No more torment; no more doubts. And with his death, a return to what has always been: misery, but at least, he knows what to expect and where he stands, a cold comfort found in that predictability.
There's a sense of purpose in the set of his jaw, when he rips his knife from its sheath at his boot and holds the point inches from Hector's throat. Only his hand won't follow through. It shakes and shakes for a minute, Isaac's lips hard and white as he fights it and fights against it, a vein throbbing hard in his temple.]
Look me in the eye -- [he seethes, spit frothing through his teeth] -- and tell me this is no ruse! Tell me this show of camaraderie is not your revenge!
[His face tightens as desperation gains momentum with nowhere to go, and for a moment, he's dangerously close to tears.]
You have ruined me once and you will not live to do it again - I swear it. Should you lie to me now, I will run you through your heart where you sit.
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I've never been one for farce, and my quest for revenge has come and passed. My companionship, I offer freely. You can accept it or no.
[He leans forward a little, putting his neck dangerously close to the blade.]
Do not speak of her again. That is what I ask of you. If you do but that...then I will stay by your side.
[Hector isn't sure what it is that Isaac wants from him; he runs hot and cold like a feral cat, hissing one minute and demanding attention the next. Hector's willing to learn, though, if it can bring some peace to those wild, pained eyes.]
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Why he's even searching Hector's face at all for something that goes against his conditioning, against all the coldness and ruthlessness that kept him alive, he doesn't know. No good has ever come of letting his heart want what it wants, or placing his faith in anything other than himself and his devils - and he can't promise Hector he wouldn't speak Rosaly's name again, just like he's sure Hector couldn't promise him that he'd never run away, run towards a brighter future, a prettier face. Better to strangle any hope left in his heart while it's was still so young, too frail to thrash as violently.
At least, if he expected nothing, he'd never know disappointment.
Isaac blinks, shoulders dropping. His ears are still ringing when he growls and finally wrenches the knife away, staring hazily at it in his hand. His demons clamor for blood - and if they can't have Hector's, they'll settle for his, when he'd be alone with them.]
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He reaches out slowly to touch Isaac's shoulder, a confirmation of their nearness. It's a brief touch; he is trying not to overstep while navigating these uncharted waters.]
I do not lie. Tomorrow, where you go, I'll follow. For now, we both need rest.
The morning sun has vanquished the horrible night
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He decides to join Isaac for a quick swim in the pond. He strips and wades in, shuddering at the bracing chill of the water.
When he gets waist-deep, he ducks under and pops back up, shaking the water out of his hair like a dog. Gooseflesh prickles his arms.]
Gods, that’s cold. Summer can’t come soon enough.
[Hector is generally comfortable in the water, having learned to swim in his youth, but there will be no lingering to paddle around today. A quick in and out to wash, unless the two of them want to catch their deaths.
After everything they’ve been through, that would be an anticlimactic way to go.]
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Burning pits, lakes of fire... [he plunges his arms in after a one, scoffing when it slips from his grasp.] ...Hell hardly seems so wretched a place.
[Glancing up at him through his lashes:] 'Warmer climes', indeed.
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The breeze makes it colder having his dripping body out of the water than in, so he lets himself sink lower, to his shoulders. It helps him think, being more hidden from Isaac's predatory gaze.]
It's a bit early in the day for Hell. I was thinking Greece, or the islands off of the Ottoman Empire to start.
[He runs his hands over his limbs beneath the water, scrubbing away any dust and grime still stubbornly clinging. Hopefully the movement will keep the fish away. He's not quick enough to catch one by hand, so until he goes back to the shore for some tool or another, they're safe from capture by him. A quick wash, and they can be back to store to dry off and warm up. Isaac's been in longer than Hector has; he's not sure how the man's not a block of ice yet.]
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Hell of a different sort, perhaps. [He wrinkles his nose.] Although were my travels to take me in that particular direction, I suppose I would stop to taste of those cheeses unique to the Greeks.
[There are few things he misses of the castle, but one is the easy access to foods and flavours he had never been exposed to otherwise, a privilege enjoyed after climbing the ranks and becoming someone of import. In some ways, he's a man of simple needs, and a fine cheese always paired well with wine and casual violence.]
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Gods, I would go to Hell itself for a good Greek cheese right now. You can’t tease me with Greek cuisine if we’re not going. It’s been far too long.
[He spent a few years in that area and living off of the simple Romanian peasants fare after that has been a trial.
And great, now he is cold and starving. He uses his shirt as a towel and dries himself quickly. It’s never graceful to shimmy into his leather pants while he’s still damp, but he does it.
He sprawls beside Isaac, barefoot and bare chested.]
Is there anything else you want to sample?
[A food tour is as good of a starting point as any for their travels.]
hector and isaac then start a food-reviewing youtube channel
I shall know when I see it. [He dries his nose with a swipe of his knuckles, sniffing.] Though what I fancy at this very moment is a cut of slanina alongside fresh-baked bread, olives, and a crisp, sweet onion.
[It's the simple things, all the classic finger foods that could constitute an entire meal on its own, that he craves most. But they'd have to make do with what they could get living off the land - at least until the opportunity to put stealth and swift reflexes to good use presented itself. It's too late in life to feel any shame for stealing when he's already broken more than his fair share of commandments.]
...Would that we should soon happen upon a traveling merchant in need of being relieved of his goods.
Bone Appetit, They'll review food that's to die for.
Well, our options are fish or what flora we can forage. We'll pick up supplies when we reach a town.
[He snorts at Isaac's aspirations of highway robbery.]
We will buy or trade for what we need. There's no need to steal and draw more attention. Do you have any coin on you? If not, we will stop and hunt for something to barter with before we reach civilization.
[Hector hadn't been expecting to flee when he'd left Julia's house the day before, so he didn't bring his coin purse with him. He's hoping Isaac is more prepared than he, but if not, they will make do in a way that doesn't involve thievery and/or murder.]
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You vastly overestimate how very willing most humans are to have me stand in their presence, let alone do business with me, regardless of what I carry in my coin purse. You and your pretty face, on the other hand...
[The thought is left hanging bitterly. Unfinished, but needing no elaboration.
To no surprise, maybe, he hasn't tried making contact with others for the purpose of trading more than once or twice after being terrorized as a child, finding it much easier to take what he wants. It's part of the reason why he doesn't often have money on him; the other half being that he had sought Hector out at the base of the mountain for a fight he hadn't expected -- or hoped -- to see his way out of.]
Indeed -- [it's his turn to snort, answering with biting sarcasm] ...should fish and furs not satisfy, then perhaps you can utilize your titillating powers of seduction to win the favour of the barterer.
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You've got a pretty face too. You have to know that. If you didn't act like a fox come into the hen house when you walked among them, they wouldn't flee from your presence.
[He's defensive, having been kicked and teased. His plan is a fine one, and it could work if Isaac let them give it a shot. He rubs the spot at his side where Isaac's toes had touched, trying to warm it with friction.]
I won your favour. Who's to say I couldn't do it?
[Isaac had been satisfied by him, had he not? He can shove his sarcasm. Hector's not going to fuck someone else, but he bristles at the implication that he couldn't.]
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Please. [The word twists his face into a snarl the equivalent of fuck you.] And I suppose when I was but a child I was still the fox in the henhouse?
[Only monsters and apprentices of Satan were said to have red hair; he had sawed off clumps of it with a knife, once, when he was young, distraught when it grew in the same, fiercely and stubbornly red, as unchangeable as his eyes. But of the few things in life he's made peace with over time, his appearance is one of them, having become both his weapon and his armour with every drop of ink scratched into him and cold metal bead pushed through his skin.]
You give yourself far too much credit. My desire of you flesh came of no wily persuasion of your own. You simply happened to exist in my presence at a time when I hungered for more than demon cunt. Or do you mean to tell me you've studied under succubi and incubi [he sweeps his hands through the air, fingers fanned out] and cast some manner of spell on me without my knowing?
[What Isaac learned of sex, or at least, of pleasure, of lubricants, and clever turns of his wrist and angles of penetration, was from those creatures mocking his clumsy roughness and his ignorance, when he first lay with them. Devil only knows how many cambions he helped spawn in his time.]
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He wants to believe that if he pressed his body into Isaac's and asked Isaac to fill him, to warm them both up, that Isaac would oblige him. The truth, Isaac's indifference about what hole he fucks, the lack of a connection he feels between them, is a resounding slap to the face.
What is Hector even trying to do? He doesn't know at this point.
He pushes himself up off of the rocks and stands.]
Fine. If you want to stay here and fuck your demons and never walk among humans again, do it. Stay here. I'll go into town by myself and get what we need.
[He pulls his damp tunic on and takes his boots in hand so he can start walking away. Anger is outweighing practicality, so he'll go without them until he's out of Isaac's sight.]
asshole is an asshole, more news at 11
Only this time he makes no attempt to follow, despite the urge to break his jaw over the accusation of devil-fucking. His inner demons sneer in triumph, promising him their parting can only be for the best. That anything is preferable to following Hector like a hungry stray and apologizing by way of caving and telling him what he wants to hear, affirming just how consumed he was by him and his desire, how Hector was once at the centre of his world and everything in it. Better to drive him away now than risk knowing the sting of his betrayal later, the voices whisper; no one could hurt him if he were alone.
He tugs on his leather pants with some struggle and takes up his walking stick, watching and waiting and plunging at the stillness of the pond until he manages to gouge a fish. He then fillets it with a few deft, economical cuts of his knife, lightly searing it in his hands and tearing chunks out of it half-raw.
He misses the easiness of casual sex. No attachments, no trust, or entangling emotions, the entire experience boiling down to the simple fulfillment of a need. Just another hit of adrenaline before the next came around.
Of course, a man who knew love for three good years would surely never understand it, he thinks. Just as a man who could waltz into town without most humans batting an eyelash before he opened his mouth would understand what it's like to live on the other side. So he decides he won't wait for Hector's return, wandering off in no particular hurry with a theory to test and more energy and anger to burn off than he knows what to do with. To the first people he comes across, he'll throw off his hood and announce his peaceful intentions -- and whatever comes of it, all he knows is he wouldn't walk away from the exchange empty-handed.]
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His fairy, flying after him with wings flitting too quickly to see, finally points out a rabbit hiding beneath a line of bushes. Hector stops, and though he has no tools with which to hunt, between himself, his fairy, and his dark necromatic powers, he manages to catch the damned thing.
That little moment of victory breaks his foul mood, and he takes a moment to forage. A few berries and sprouts have him feeling human again, though certainly not sated.]
I'm a damned fool to let him bate me. I have to be better than that. [He tells the fairy, who nods in a mimicry of a human response, but without an understanding of what it means.
He uses some vines to tie the rabbit's legs together and swings it into his back. It's something to barter, much as he'd like to stop and eat it himself.
It takes a good part of the day to reach the little town he was aiming for, and a couple of hours trading, doing odd jobs, and going through the delicate song and dance of healing peasants with his concealed fairy, and convincing them both that it was not witchcraft, but it it was a service to be paid for. Knowledge from his years with Rosaly, who made real medicines, gives some verisimilitude to the sham poultices he throws together out of grasses and mud he gathered along the way here.
It's near dark when he finally trudges back to the campsite where he'd left Isaac that morning. He comes bearing peace offerings- a slab of slanina and a little loaf of coarse bread, in addition to the more practical rations of hard tack and dried fish.]
Isaac?
[He calls out quietly, when he reaches the clearing and doesn't see the other forgemaster right away.]
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He can feel them whispering. Feel them staring, nudging chins in his direction.
And as though word of his arrival has already reached the town proper, he is stopped short of entering by men with wary looks and crossbows of familiar make turned on him, loaded with stakes. A few kids crane their necks and gawk at him before their mothers yank them away.
He's just a traveler on a mission to trade for a block of cheese, but no one believes it. Or those who dare to entertain the possibility decide the meat is surely tainted in some way. What is up for debate is what he's supposed to be, standing unburnt in the setting sun. A werewolf or a witch or a demon. The same possibilities pass between their lips, every suggestion a tired joke that still pulls a chuckle out of him because it's funny, being a monster to so many people he's never met and whose lives he's never personally touched, an apprentice to the devil long before he laid eyes on the books and scrolls on devil forging; but to the monsters, the things lurking in every corner of the castle, he was still too human. Human flesh was human flesh. Though brutal training and mastery of the devil's art had toughened him, nothing he was willing to do or have done to him could rid him of that human weakness. He never wanted to live forever, anyway; living a mortal life, day by day, was hard enough.
The tension in the air breaks, suddenly, like a thin crust of ice over a lake snapping underfoot, when he holds out his catch for the town's hunters' consideration. One fires at point-blank range - and from the shifting stances and the questioning looks some throw the shooter, the interrogation wasn't meant to end like this, not before knowing where Isaac came from and if there were others like him, lying in wait. But there's no taking it back. So they just watch as Isaac staggers a half-step back with a stake in his ribs, listening for the death-screech or for the hellflames that spawned him to split the ground and rush up to reclaim him. He refuses to die. He croaks and gasps harshly but stays upright, the stricken blankness to his face melting away as a snarl peels his lips back. Another stake punches into him, a third and fourth and a fifth flying for the trees as he dissolves into thin air, leaving the hare carcass and glittering, mote-like traces of magic behind. Wide-eyed, the men swing around in search of him. By the time one points Isaac out on the steepled roof of their chapel, standing tall, sword in hand, like a god on judgment day, there's a black dragon with him, its fanning, leathery wings blocking the sun. It turns its gaping mouth towards them, the back of its throat glowing brighter, brighter, with the flames curling up into its throat. Crossbows twang and snap, stakes disintegrating in the burning blast Crimson sends their way. Townspeople scream, pushing and trampling each other as the devil dives at them, breathing swathes of fire across the street. Market stalls take flame, crackling, collapsing. A child drops a wooden doll, wailing after it as she's carried off in her father's arms.
He knew this would happen.
He knew it.
So he lets himself stay and basks, hollow-eyed, in the glow of his destruction - the only consolation there is for the bad choice that led to this. And when his vision swims and breath thickens with blood, he trusts the fire to do its work and escapes, not wanting to give the humans the satisfaction of seeing him die a miserable death. His magic whisks him and Crimson off to the furthest place his clouding focus and flagging strength of will can muster - a cave not too far from the clearing. It's dark and cool and still. Peaceful, almost. Wrapped up in his cloak over the wet, craggy floor, he sends Crimson off in search of life to drain and to feed him with on its return -- a little healing to take the edge off. As many trips as it'd need to make until he'd feel well enough to sit up - and eventually, he thinks, well enough to teleport to the abandoned castle that roofed him not long ago.
Back to a simpler time, when Hector hadn't reached out and Isaac hadn't sought him yet either, and the most promising thing to life had seemed to be the prospect of ending it.]
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He could let him go peacefully into the night, accept their parting of ways as the inevitable conclusion of two diametrically opposed men. He could...
...but he won't. There's too much left unsaid between them. Hector wants to share the meal he worked for, the one that Isaac had said he wanted. Even if Isaac leaves after, Hector doesn't want to move into whatever life brings him with the regret of missing that moment.
The bond has been a piece of him since they both came to Dracula's castle. For the first time, Hector reaches out to it and pulls.
The manipulation of the bond points him in the right direction, and he follows. He expects he will have to chase Isaac down, over miles and days to give him his damned slanina, but the unseen trail ends not far away, in a cave mostly concealed with overgrowth.]
Did you change your mind about leaving?
[He interjects as he stoops to duck inside the cave. Why else would he still be so nearby after nearly a full day?
Then he sees the shape in the darkness.]
Fuck, what happened to you?
[He is by Isaac's side in an instant, running his hands over the shivering body to help assess what his eyes can't see in the darkness. The smell of blood and smoke drifts heavy in the air.
It hasn't been practical to fuel his fairy's magic through enemy blood since the curse ended, so Hector channels his own power into the creature so that it can cast more than the minor acts of healing it has done recently.]
Be still, let me help you... [He murmurs, just to say something.]
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It was never tainted. [He rasps.] But I could have done it so very easily... and I'd have stayed to watch them choke... on their own blood.
[Another bout of laughter quickly devolves into coughing foamy-bright lung blood of his own, the stuff clotting his lips. He stays unmoving after the fit has passed, his side heaving.
He's often thought of life not as something he clings to but as something that clings to him, wanted or unwanted, refusing to let go for anything. And now it's releasing him into the grip of something stronger -- and as he feels his eyes grow heavy and close on him, he remembers that he isn't scared of what may be waiting for him on the other side. This - whatever will emerge from the darkness to meet him - has been a long time coming, and something tells him that when he gets there, he's in for one last laugh when the mystery of God's plans and His workings are laid bare.]
...Go now. Take Julia with you.
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[Hector keeps pouring energy into the fairy, who in turn funnels it into Isaac to knit the wounds back together. He begins to strip away the soaking cloak so he can wrap his own around Isaac's clammy body.]
Your sister will go nowhere but where she wills. I am to travel with you, not her. I brought us slanina to share, and you're not going to die before you've eaten it.
[Hector's cloak has been warmed by his body, but that seems far too little to combat the chill in the cave. He rubs Isaac's hands between his own, trying to chafe some warmth back into them.]
I need to light a fire. The ones who did this, are they still nearby?
crimson's deadly absorb is and will always be a lousy skill /huff
He's either gone numb or that fairy of Hector's is bathing him in waves of healing energy; it's hard to tell which, and cracking open his eyes to find out is too much of an effort. He lets Hector keep his hand in his, feeling like it isn't a part of his body at all, but someone else's.]
No. ...And I suspect that many among them... have burned to ashes.
[And, at last, there's the leathery snap he's been listening for as Crimson swoops into the darkness, seeking him. It touches down lightly and folds its wings, eyes glowing like burning lumps of coal set in its skull as it picks its way over the cave floor and moves to him, offering a warbling sort of greeting as it nuzzles the hand Isaac blindly holds out to it. Its slitted nostrils flare and he feels the gentle heat of its breath through the palm of his glove. It hasn't much energy to pass along - larger prey must be few and far between tonight - but it's something, adding to the cool, tingling sensation already sweeping through him.]
np, hec is here with tiramisu for two
With the dragon on Isaac’s opposite side, watching over him, Hector releases his hand and backs out of the cave to scrounge up some tinder and fuel for a fire.
It’s short work to get a small flame going, and he drapes Isaac’s ripped, bloodied cloak on the ground beside it to dry out.
He studies Isaac’s probe form in the flickering light. In spite of two devil’s healing, he still looks awful. They must have been some truly gruesome wounds. He’s hoping Isaac is stable enough to move.
He goes out again to collect some foliage to cushion the stone floor beside the fire.
He returns to Isaac’s side.]
Shhh, stay still. Let’s get you where it’s warm.
[He reaches one hand under Isaac’s knees and the other beneath his shoulder blades to leverage him up and into his arms.]
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I told you... it would never work. [There's no bite to his voice, no fire. He pulls his arms around himself, barely.] But you will always sooner believe in the innocence... of humans than you will in me.
[It's no surprise, and it stings more than it has any right to, for what he's done. 'Leave me', he'll repeat, before long.]
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You tried? Isaac... [His voice catches. It was faith in Hector's words that brought him to this? Hector is responsible for these wounds, as surely as if he'd driven the stakes into the flesh himself.]
I won't ask you to go among them again. I will see to everything we need from them. You'll not come to harm again.
[His hands move from forehead to cheek, thumb just grazing the corner of Isaac's lips.]
If I give you water, can you keep it down? You should try to drink something, if you can.
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No rest for the wicked, indeed.]
You cannot promise me that.
[It's the answer that squeezes past a sudden knot in his throat, and in it are the shades of betrayal, of devastation made fresh and raw again, as if Hector always had the power to reach into his past and stop everything that had folded in his heart and chose instead to stand back, letting him scream into the void. But when Isaac presses on, his tone is toothless and resigned again.] Nor have I need of it. My blade and my devils... are enough. And when the day comes that I fall... to hell with me I will drag my enemies.
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No, I can make no promise...none but to try.
[He withdraws his hand. He has been touching Isaac to reassure himself; he knows not what comfort or discomfort Isaac takes from it. Likely none. He's made it clear to Hector he wants none of Hector's affection.
Unstopping his canteen, he pours a capful of water to offer to Isaac.]
You'll drag no one anywhere tonight. Rest now.
[Tomorrow, Isaac can have the breakfast he wanted, and another round of healing. After that? Hector cannot say.]
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He's standing somewhere, out in an empty, treeless field, but not for long.
Something cracks against the back of his skull and he staggers, gasping, as lights burst behind his eyes. He whirls around just as another blow catches him in the side of the head, his knees going soft. He drops to the ground, feeling the tickly crawl of blood oozing out his nostrils. It tastes real - harsh and salty and metallic as more of it slides down the back of his throat.
By the time he feels a hand clamp around his ankle, he's already being dragged over dirt and rocks and into a waiting crowd. Axes and hoes, shovels and pitchforks. They curse and spit on him and roar in triumph, their snarling faces looming over his, swimming in and out of focus. Only their gazes hold steady, black with hate.
There's something wrong with his body. He thrashes against an impossible heaviness in his arms and legs, his mouth dropping open in a ragged scream that gurgles and dies as someone rocks a jug over him and a clear liquid splashes his face. Holy water, is the thought jumping to the forefront of his mind -- but it's stronger than even the Belmont's blessed tools, closer to boiling oil. His skin prickles, then burns raw, hissing as a bright, vicious pain eats into his lips, the flesh of his cheeks, the lining of his throat. He croaks out a cry into the void, rasping for air. More water is dashed onto him. He twists his head away, staring through tears at his arm - bare and unscarred? - as it bubbles up and melts to expose gleaming tendons and muscles, bloody flesh dripping off the twitching bones of his fingers.
heavenly Father -- a voice floats above the ringing in his ears, above the pain-fog and the laughter pressing in around him -- in your name we, the faithful, have congregated and shall see to the burning of this vile servant of Satan, this beast who would shun Your glory and Your light, lest we fall prey to its temptations...
Roaring, he grasps for the threads binding him to his devils. But when he tugs desperately, the line goes slack. Silence, dead air. The magic that should be there, pulsing inside him like an angry, living thing, is gone and --
Isaac lurches awake in the dark, his heart rocking crazily in his chest as he blinks and blinks, seeing and unseeing. Crimson lifts its head. Lying in a rigid silence, it's a while until he remembers where he is, and longer until he realizes he isn't alone. There's nothing left to the fire but charcoal and ash and rocks, a faint whiff of a smoke. Cold and weary, he sluggishly sits himself up against the cave wall, realizing his hands are shaking. He bunches them into fists, angry. Then goes for his dagger when the restlessness in his bones is more than he can stand. He turns it over and over in his fingers, stopping only to press the point into his palm.]
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Hector meant to keep vigil this night. He sits propped against the cave wall near the entrance, his makeshift club within arm's reach. Without cloak and with the fire dying, he's shivering, but in spite of the discomfort and of his own resolve, he's fallen into a doze.
It's movement that stirs him back into wakefulness. A shift in the labored breathing across the cave, and the quiet struggle to prop himself up. Hector looks out beyond the cave, but neither sees nor senses a threat.
He pushes himself up straighter, and calls out in a whisper,]
Isaac, are you well? Keep still. I'll rekindle the fire.
[His own body is stiff and slow to respond. The chill and the uncomfortable position he's forced himself into are taking their toll. But he needs to move. It's not only himself he has to take care of now, and the weaknesses of his flesh do not excuse him of the responsibilities he has assumed.
Groaning, he flexes his fingers and toes, trying to will away the pins and needles as he crawls to the fire.]
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...I live yet, don't I?
[He grates out, lowly, feeling his face stiffen under Hector's attention, his scrutiny.]
Go back to sleep.
[It's a demand, because it has to be. Because a plea is out of the question. But he doesn't expect Hector to listen, already smouldering with annoyance.
He thought he had outgrown nightmares; he had lost too many nights already to panic gripping him by the throat and shaking him awake, his head stuck someplace where dreams and memories would blur and he wasn't always sure of what was and wasn't, and if he could ever feel safe again. It's funny, he thinks to himself, how pain always lasts longer than pleasure. If someone cuts another deep enough, one scars over. But as he's seen with Hector, there's no lasting mark for the kindness one may have felt, at some point; nothing to show for the briefest moments of something approaching happiness. Wounds could heal in time, with or with magic, but the body and mind are wired to remember them, to hold onto terrifying lessons that came of them for the rest of one's life.]
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[Hector gives the dying coals a prod with a stick, and wonders what has Isaac so waspish. He only offered to rekindle their campfire.
Was it the light? Isaac might have stirred to relieve himself, or to relieve himself in the cover of darkness... only he’s never been shy about doing either in front of Hector.
He breaks the stick and feeds it to the smoldering embers, coaxing life back to them.
Isaac is akin to a feral cat, he reminds himself; bold when he has strength and a means of escape, but dangerous when vulnerable. Hector will do more harm than good, trying to press any closer while he’s wounded.]
If you need privacy, I’ll leave you alone... just as soon as I’m sure you won’t freeze.
[He gives the fire a little more kindling, trying to build it up so that he can step outside with the assurance that Isaac will be safe and warm within.]
guess who is being a stubborn shit
If a herd of mindless human cattle have not ended me yet... [he rasps through his teeth ] ...then a draft surely will not.
[The wobbliness in his legs when he pushes to his feet begs to differ; he's already a little woozy and breathless from the effort, forehead sheening with a sickly sweat. But his determination is unwavering. He doesn't need coddling, he tells himself, turning and staggering for the cave's mouth, putting an arm out to feel his way along the wall. Crimson stirs and stretches its wings, patiently awaiting a command that never comes.]
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The draft might not finish the job, but a stiff wind looks like it could finish the job. Sit your ass down.
[He forces himself up, though his foot is still asleep and his back muscles protest. He nudges the pile of tender and kindling with his boot.]
If you can’t bear my presence, then you tend the fire and I’ll go. Because I warn you, I’m your match in stubbornness and if you go out, I will as well, and we’ll both be cold and miserable and the wolves will find this cave and ravage all our supplies.
[Stubborn idiots don’t get apology bacon.]
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He shows his teeth.]
Since when have we fused at the hip?
[It's a question he's answered before, his mouth twisting from a scowl to a grim, knowing smile, briefly. But the real question is not when but why, when Isaac has done nothing to reward Hector's persistence or the attention Isaac thought he had always wanted. The attention he had killed for.
He tosses a hand helplessly, letting it slap to his side.]
What is it you want from me? [Frustration leaks into his voice.] ...A pat on the back for your noble efforts to tame the savage beast? My flesh, having claimed yours?
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[It’s not something that can be hidden, so Hector owns it, quiet and resolute.]
I want you to be well, Isaac. For all you balk against it, we are bound. Any ill will I bore against you before has been put aside.
[He steps to where he’d laid Isaac by the fire and bends to retrieve his discarded cloak. He tosses the bundle of fabric at Isaac’s shaking form.
He is trying to be patient, trying not to let him temper get the better of him and force them both even further back til they lose every halting step forward they’ve taken together.
He can’t force Isaac to stay without doing more harm, but if he leaves, Isaac might stay or return sooner to their shelter. Hector retrieves a hook and line from the bundle of supplies he traded for earlier today.]
Wander if you must, but while you deny yourself shelter, so shall I.
[If they’re both up and pushing themselves early to their graves anyways, Hector is going to go sit by the pond and see if there’s any night-fishing to be had.]
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Well.
There's no such thing for him. He'd never be well and Hector surely knows it; he wouldn't know what to do with happiness if he had it, or even properly recognize it. And if he somehow did, he'd spend every waking moment braced for disaster, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for something to try ripping what little he had from his grasp, if he didn't manage to do it himself by them. Scoffing, he finally stoops to lift his cloak, draping it over his shoulders as he whirls around, pressing forward. His jagged shadow lurches across the cave wall.
He's a lost cause -- or Hector and Julia wouldn't have left him in a castle to die, a voice whispers -- and whatever else he had done to Hector when he pushed into him, whatever misguided emotions and sense of responsibility the experience instilled in him, it'd only be a matter of time before it all fell away and Hector would give up on him.
again]
You are wasting your time. [He warns, stepping away from light and smoke into the night that spreads around him like a thick, dark blanket. No stars. Sighing, he leans up against dirt and rock and lets his sore, heavy-lidded eyes fall shut, pulling in a breath past a twinge of pain in his ribs. Then another, telling himself he doesn't need the fire nearly as soon or as badly as his body thinks it does.
The flesh is weak.
A wind stirs the old, creaking pines, whispering through long grasses. It's cool over his gleaming temples, his neck. He coughs lightly at a tickle in his lungs and settles back, hunching. A faint dusting of something pollen-like has gathered in his hair and eyelashes and the fur draping him, unfelt.]
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My time is my own, to be spent how I will.
[He grumbles, and makes to brush past Isaac and head for the pond when Isaac begins to cough.
Slight though it it, Hector rushes close, visions of internal bleeding and punctured lungs in his mind. He gets a breath of the spores as he clasps Isaac by the shoulders and leans close to study his face for signs of distress in the darkness.]
What...? Isaac, go back inside....this air is foul this night....
[Even as he speaks, he begins to lose focus on his words.]
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Isaac starts at his touch, stiffening. What he sees when he lifts his head isn't Hector's face - or much of a face at all. His eyes are rolling back into his skull all the way, his skin bulging and rippling, splitting as bloated maggots push through it like wet paper. Wide-eyed, Isaac rears his head back and wrenches himself out of his grip, wincing as he grasps for his dagger. By the time he has dropped into a fighter's crouch, poised to slash at him, Hector is Hector again, staring back at him.
Isaac feels his stomach pitch. He keeps his blade raised, wary. It jitters in his fist.
It doesn't make sense - of all the doppelgangers and shapeshifters that have ever taken Hector's form, none have ever been able to reproduce the aura of Dracula's magic rolling off their bodies. Their bond remains unbroken, every fibre of his being tingling-alert with the certainty that this really is Hector and that nothing has changed. No dark spirits sliding into his body and taking possession of him.]
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Hector staggers back, seeing the dagger morph into a torch to light a pyre. The stench of smoke and burning flesh choke his lungs.
He has no weapon, but he twists the fishing line around his hands in a makeshift garrote.
Something in Isaac’s countenance shifts, or seems to shift in Hector’s drugged eyes, and the torch becomes a bloodied stake torn from a jagged gash in Isaac’s side. Isaac, so cynical and cruel, who had nonetheless tried to trust in humanity again at Hector’s behest.
Hector twists his hands to untangle the rope, disgusted at the idea of strangling the life out of Isaac. The fish hook tears at his skin, and blood dribbled out, a little dark river in the black of the night.]
full blown lost it
But then a beat passes and then another, the two of them still taking measure of each other, and Hector's stance hasn't shifted. Isaac watches the inky drip of blood down Hector's hand, his gaze hard and searching his face for an explanation and only finding an expression he can't place.
His lips peel back.]
Do it! [He spits the words at him, feeling too vindicated, too angry, to let himself recognize the disappointment weighing heavy in his heart.] Consummate your precious revenge, if you can!
[In the thick brush comes a sudden thrashing, interrupting him. He throws a wild-eyed glance over his shoulder, staring into darkness. Branches snap and rustle away, and in the chaos he hears an angry, rhythmic grunting and someone screaming, a woman's scream splitting the night. He can't see but he knows what he's hearing, knows it to his bones. And it goes on until he grits his teeth and can't stand it, shooting a look to Hector - Hector, the merciful - who isn't reacting to it, as if he's lost his nerve.
Just as Isaac takes a purposeful step towards the sobbing struggle, determined to put an end to human and monster, half his wish is granted. There's a harsh, wet snap of a sound -- and then nothing at all. A deathly silence that's just as piercing as the wailing that came before it.
A hulking shape slowly emerges from the shadows, dragging a limp body behind it by the leg. It stops halfway towards the trees, turning its head Isaac's way -- and when their eyes meet, lock, Isaac feels a jolt run him through, the hairs on the nape of his neck lifting. The echoes of a sharp, white fear from what could've been years ago or only yesterday throbbing in his chest. His body hasn't forgotten; maybe it never would. But while some things may never change, enough has, when Isaac draws himself up against the chill and the weight of his cloak and remembers that he's still here - that he survived on his own, stronger for it - and that he
(can't move, can't get free, screaming past a sob of futile rage locked in his throat)
would put this beast down for good. He points his dagger at the demon. Even from a distance he can feel its breath, burning hot on the back of his neck, somehow. Sick-smelling, heavy with rot. ]
I killed you once before... [Isaac narrows his eyes] ...and my only regret is not making a place for your head on my mantle. But tonight I shall gladly rectify my mistake!
[It turns its body towards him now, bigger than it ever was, even with its wings pulled in. Still missing the middle toe on its left foot, and the part of one ear Isaac had managed to slice off. Its snout wrinkles in something approximating a smile. With a lazy swing of its arm, it hurls the corpse in Isaac's direction. It ragdolls, hitting the ground with a meaty thud before tumbling to a stop at his feet, limbs splayed brokenly. Fingers still twitching. Her long hair is tangled with leaves and twigs and her dress is ripped up the knee, legs scraped and stained with blood. The face - the half that hasn't been crushed to a jawless pulp - is turned to one side, eyes still begging for help.
A look that reaches into Isaac and grabs him by the guts, twisting them inside-out.
He goes weak at the middle. Staggers back a step, his breath coming in short, shallow heavesr.
Julia's body splits and blurs and joins again in his vision. And right there, while the world spins around him and his eyes burn, he can almost feel some part of his mind fracture, crumbling away from the rest.
The demon waits, smiling.
Blood rocks his skull and Isaac goes blind, never hearing the unhinged scream that claws its way out of him as he rushes the monster and slams his dagger up into its laughing throat, jerking it down through sinew and bone and cartilage to the breastbone. It topples, choking, spurting blood, Isaac landing on top of it. He punches the blade deep into its grinning skull, sobs ripping his throat, raw, animal sobbing, as it squeals out and he stabs it over and over again until its forehead collapses and its jellied eyeballs leak down its face like runny egg.
But all that's on Isaac's knife is dirt, clods of it flying from the soft spot in the ground he's driving it into.]
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Then Isaac turns suddenly, leaping toward some unseen threat, and Hector follows. His eyes cannot reconcile what they see.
Isaac, snarling as he tackles...himself. Twin forms claw at one another in the dirt, tearing at identically tattooed flesh. They sneer and curse at one another, and Hector knows deep within his bones that Isaac will kill himself if Hector doesn't intervene.
He dives into the fray, determined to save the other Forgemaster from himself.]
Isaac, stop this!
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They roll against one another, bucking and thrashing. Hector tries to get his arms around the flailing limbs, to pin Isaac down until he can heal his wounds and calm his rage.
The blade of Isaac's knife carves a line across his chest, ripping fabric and flesh both. It's a blind attack, not nearly as destructive a move as Isaac could make if he actually aimed, this close within Hector's defenses.
Hector cannot block the attack and keep his hold, and something within him cries out not to let go. He has to protect someone. He has to save someone. He has already failed one lover; to let another die is worse than death itself. As long as he keeps Isaac here, in his grasp, that other dark Isaac cannot destroy him.
His fairy's glow -- bright like flame, like a funeral pyre -- appears behind Hector's head, casting the writhing man below him in Hector's shadow.
Heal him he orders his devil, even as the knife comes back around for another stab. He tries to shush Isaac, to sooth him, but the next slice of the blade has him gasping back a ragged sob of breath. His vision, already so strange and blurred, unfocuses.]
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His knife jerks free, dripping. And as it readies for another thrust, Isaac waits for release, hopes for it, like a sick, rotting brain waits for a bullet. But it drives back into his attacker instead, and it breaks the hold the other has on him long enough for Isaac to wrench himself out from under its weight. Panting raggedly, he rolls around to face it, his eyes raw and wet. He squints against the glow of what he recognizes as Hector's fairy. Hector is there too, just behind it. Dark blots of blood spreading through his tunic.]
Murderer! [Isaac screams, unhinged, his arms high over his head as he lurches for him like a mindless living corpse before slamming his dagger down on any part of Hector he can reach, all his weight, his futile rage, behind it.] You let her die!
[Shuddering, he deflates, his body crumpling over the knife still tight in both his hands.]
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He tries to regain the upper hand, reaching out to seize Isaac's wrists to stop him from attacking.
Murderer! Isaac hisses. His face shifts and warps, until Hector is staring at his own face. You let her die!]
I....
[There is no denying the accusation. Hector brought Rosaly's death, with his love, his selfish love that prioritized his happiness over her safety. She would still live, had he not loved her.
Hector stops struggling, and lets the knife strike land.]
if this doesn't work for any reason, I'm happy to change it, just lemme know
He's accepted pain as an inevitability of being alive, and learned to make room for it, always working to tamp down and pack older memories away if he couldn't twist them into something useful. But there's no room left, this time. He can't any more -- he can't.
The last dim spot of light has gone out in his world and he knows he doesn't deserve to go with it, to have the luxury to die on his own terms. But he doesn't deserve to live, either, if she can't. If her final, terrifying moments are in any way Hector's fault, than he knows it's his own, just as much, for standing there and doing nothing. For being like any leering, soulless monster. The humans can't be all wrong, he decides, seeing what they see in him.
His dagger squelches loose from Hector's leg, slimy with blood. And after a long moment, Isaac lifts his head with it, staring through him as he makes to put that same blade to his own throat and jerk it across.]
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The bloody blade forces him to look up, and Hector sees Isaac once more, despairing and lost. Fitting, that they should die together, two sides of the same warped coin.
'Hector, don't curse yourself.' Rosaly's voice echoes from far away and long ago. 'I don't know your pain or your past...but they aren't important. Don't be a captive to them.'
Rosaly would forgive what he does not, can not. And if Rosaly could find goodness worth nurturing in one forgemaster, surely she would in the other. Hector has to find it, cultivate it, because Rosaly is no longer able to.
Hector's vision is swimming as the blood drains freely from his wounds, but he takes decisive action, reaching out and seizing Isaac's wrist to stay his hand. The fairy at his shoulder glows brighter, focusing its healing magic on Isaac. It takes more power than Hector anticipates, and his knees buckle.]
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He arches his back and presses himself into the knife, close enough to feel the point dimpling his skin. Close enough to feel the heat of Hector's panting breath and see the slow draining of life and colour from his face. To see a strange powdery residue speckling his skin. It seems fairest that Hector should look him in the eyes when his hand runs the blade through him, willingly or unwillingly.]
Do it! It's what you had wanted!
[Isaac shouts at him, a gob of spit hitting Hector's cheek. His desperate grip squeezes tight around his glove, his body trembly-electric on the inside.]
I killed your woman! I raped you of the only happiness you have ever known and will ever know in your wretched life, and I ran free while her ashes scattered to the wind!
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Through gritted teeth, he growls out.]
And I will have to live with that. WE will have to live with that.
[If Isaac wants punishment, there is none crueler than that. But in it, there is also hope, though Isaac does not know how to see it.
The fairy heals and cleanses, sending a warm, tingling aura over Isaac. Hector's vision swims, and he struggles to dig his fingers into a pressure point to force Isaac to drop his weapon before he slumps over.]
And what gets high... must come down. Something like that.
His arms drop and he falls back onto his knees, sagging.
The wind picks up, swirling around them and tugging at his cloak, but not enough of Isaac is there to notice while he throbs with hate, hate for himself and for Hector, and for the howling, furious sobbing he can't bite back.
Hector may have fought and won the battle for Isaac's life, but not the war.
Mid-crying jag, he doubles over with a coughing fit that's just as violent, hacking thick and wet until he brings up a whitish phlegm from the bottom of his lungs. Gulping down deep, shuddering breaths, Isaac dries his face on his arm, his mouth, slowly going cold. His head hurts; his skull is clamped tight around his brain. And for the first time in a long time comes a thought he had as a boy the nights he had huddled in some dark, dusty corner of the library - the only place, it had seemed, where there was some semblance of order: he wants to go home. But home is nowhere. It's just an idea of a warm, comfortable place that never existed.
Shadows and projections shimmer around him, fading. When he knuckles his eyes dry one more time and dares to look around, he realizes both Julia and the demon's remains have disappeared. No trampled, blood-slick grass marking where either corpse had lain. Only Hector is still there - at least for the moment - with more wounds than Isaac remembers inflicting.
He doesn't know when he finds the will to climb to his feet again, and then, finally, to drag Hector over dirt and grass and the ragged cave floor to the fire, for what feels like for hours. Or why, beyond petty tit-for-tat. He feeds the dying embers with a barely-controlled wisp of magic, struggling to push past the aggressive ache in his temples and have Crimson pull a small measure of energy from Hector's fairy and from his own body to pour into Hector's. Crimson's capacity for healing can only pale in comparison to a creature whose sole purpose revolves around treating injury and disease. But what his devil offers is enough to buy some time until it has absorbed and returned with something more.
The glow of the fire draws Isaac's attention to the dust furring Hector's cheek. He thumbs it off him, rubbing it between his fingers. It the same stuff that had smudged off on his glove when he had wiped his own face.
Soon, there'd be wood to gather. But for now he sits himself down, moving only to grudgingly unshoulder his cloak. More dust clouds the air, when he does: a piece of a puzzle slotting into place in his head. He vigorously shakes it out, away from Hector, before tossing it over him.]
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The shuddering passes and he flops back down on his back, letting his face loll to the other side so he can press his feverish cheek against the cold stone.
A cloak tangles around his arms, restricting his movement. Isaac's, not his....
He remembers...Isaac, pinning himself to the ground and driving in his knife... Isaac's face turning into a mirror image of Hector's...the accusation 'Murderer' that he could not deny...
Nightmares. He remembers nightmares, for what else could they be?
Along his chest, on his hand, in the meat of his thigh, he feels the throb of blood beneath scabbed flesh. A nightmare that can inflict wounds...the sort of thing that scared villagers would say resided in the forsaken castle.
He senses no threat now, but there had been danger. Something to do with Isaac.... He can taste the fear in his mouth, as foul and bitter as the aftertaste of his bile. He'd almost lost Isaac.
He peels open his eyes and forces his aching head up from the cool stone to look for him.]
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Julia isn't dead.
She never was, because he can still feel her dimly, far to the east, on the other side of the mountain pass they crossed days ago.
Isaac dries his mouth and slides his gauntlet back on over blood-smeared skin with a stiff tug. He catches Hector's gaze a moment while snapping the buckles on, his own red-rimmed and tired, smouldering with powerless anger towards an enemy with no face, no blood. All Crimson had found, deeper in the woods, was a patch of myconid easily set ablaze. The others sucked themselves back into the dirt.
Hector had sensed something awry, he remembers. Something in the air. But not soon enough.]
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The pounding of his head is killing him, and his lungs feel heavy, every breath labored.
Closing his eyes, he raises one hand and waves it in the vague direction where he thinks he left the supplies he picked up yesterday.]
...so....breakfast?
[It comes out in a croak. Honestly, all he wants is maybe a gallon of water, to drink or to drown himself in, he's still undecided. But he bought that damned slanina for Isaac, and Isaac will eat it if it kills him.]
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Physical and emotional exhaustion have taken their toll and left him without much of an appetite. He hadn't thought to check Hector's pack for the meat he claimed to have brought. Hadn't even remembered it. It feels like a long time ago when Hector found him here, fighting to breathe, fading out.
He scrubs a hand down his face.]
Do I look like your servant?
[He asks, his voice hollow, raw. But he stands eventually, after a moment too long to seem like he will. The slanina smells good when he unwraps it by the fire, preserved between the cooler temperatures and the curing process. He wipes the blood - his and Hector's - off his knife onto his leg and slices off a small piece, stabbing into it and biting it off. The fat itself is smooth and rich in the way nothing he'd eaten lately really has been, the meat soft and the rind pleasantly chewy. He makes more cuts from there, slicing strips before sheathing his dagger into the remaining hunk of meat and letting it rest there, idly sucking the grease off a fingertip.]
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[Hector grumbles. He doesn't try to rise yet. Eyes closed, he listens to Isaac eventually get up and rustle through his bag. Hector can't will away his aches, so he keeps still as his body slowly adjusts to consciousness.
Pride worms its way through him as he listens to Isaac bite and chew. It's a primal urge, to act as a provider for one's mate. Isaac is eating food Hector brought him, and through the nausea and throbbing pain, he's pleased at it.]
Eventually, the foul taste in his mouth forces him up, and he rolls over and peels his eyes open again to search for his canteen. Unlike the food that had lain forgotten over the night, he'd keep the canteen nearby as he nursed Isaac's wounds.
He'd ask Isaac to find it and toss it over to him, but it's not worth dealing with the challenge that Isaac would surely take it as.]
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...All this meat and no wine? [He remarks, sans the sneering twist of his lips that usually accompanies his criticisms. The disappointment is only partly feigned. Something harder is what he needs; something to wash away the taste of sick sticking in the back of his throat and smooth his frayed, battered nerves over. He needs to forget what he saw, the twisted perceptions of reality that had nearly killed them both and still live under his skin and behind his eyelids, keeping him awake.
He digs his nails into his arm, following Hector's line of sight. It's not hard to guess at what he likely wants from what he already has - fire, cloak, food, fairy - and not too long ago, Isaac knows he'd have dangled that canteen, willing him to crawl for it like it was something to be earned. Today, he only has the patience and meanness to grab it from somewhere behind him, tipped over but stopped, and pass it over with a lazy, underhanded throw, a dismissive throw, assuming Hector will catch it - and none too concerned if he doesn't.]
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...'no wine', he says. There's no pleasing some people.
[He grumbles, but he's already calculating how long he will need to recover before he can venture out to bring Isaac back wine. It's obvious it is not safe for Isaac to do the shopping, and Hector wants to indulge Isaac's cravings.
...at least, the more innocent ones.
...and maybe a few of the not-so-innocent ones.
He uncorks the canteen and takes a long sip. It makes him chock and spit up more phlem, but he can breath a little easier afterwards.]
Any other requests? Sweetmeats, a pie, perhaps? What will it take to please you, Isaac?
[It's only part teasing.]
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A warm bed and a warm body.
[He says, to the fire. Nights of half-drunk debauchery, free to do and to be as he will. Fucking until boredom settles into his bones and he seeks something else or someone else, the next body to warm his and to dull the ache of being alive. Until he knows how to see and to let himself slide into open arms, he'll settle for open legs. Infinitely easier for all involved.]
Access to the latter whenever the mood should strike.
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‘I would be that for you,’ he does not say. Isaac is like a bull, or he was at the castle, from what Hector saw, taking his pick from the herd and rarely returning to a lover once used and discarded.
Hector isn’t like that. He’s the bird who mates for life. The life of one, if not the life of both.
Hector can’t make an offering of himself to Isaac only to be cast aside the next morning.
He pushes himself up and cards a hand through his tangled hair.]
There will be beds soon, when we get back on the road again. The port towns along the coast see travelers from all over; they won’t be so easily spooked by the sight of us as the peasants here.
[A day or two sleeping in a tavern with actual beds will do both of them good, no matter who Isaac chooses to tumble while he’s there.]
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I did not mean soon, Hector. [He says, sternly, a muscle rippling in his jaw. There's no telling what the future holds for him, if he'd make it as far as Hector wants them to, a life that he already seems to be building for them in his dreams; not even Julia with all her visions could know with absolute certainty. Dragging himself from one day to the next, the most Isaac can do is keep breathing, reminding himself on every step forward of how much pain is born of ruined plans and broken expectations.
Isaac makes a point of meeting his gaze, solemn and unblinking. That Hector is barely able to sit himself up doesn't matter; he wouldn't need to to fulfill the purpose Isaac has in mind for him.]
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I offered you my companionship before, and you called me clingy and sentimental.
[It's not a 'no'...]
If I grant you your unfettered access, what do you offer in return?
[Hector is prodding to try to establish what it is Isaac wants for the two of them. He wonders if Isaac himself even knows.]
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Isaac isn't sure. But when he looks at Hector with a sudden, fresh awareness, he thinks it may be something Hector is guilty of, too.]
An escape.
[No sly-faced smile, no crude answer rolling off his tongue.]
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Let me kiss you again, and I'll let you fuck me again.
[For once, Hector is the crude one. He has no illusion that Isaac will be any gentler the second time around, so any tenderness he wants, he will have to bargain for.
He finally takes one of the slices of slanina to nibble on while he waits for his answer. If they end up coupling, Hector doesn't want to be so weak and hungry that he passes out partway through it.]
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Isaac looks him up and down, coolly, weighing the offer long enough to make it seem as though he has another option to fall back on. But there is nothing better. His choices are either having something or nothing at all; and as hard as it can be to bend, to expose himself as vulnerable and deeply needy, saying no this time is harder still. So he finally spreads his hands, like he's smugly baiting an enemy into attacking him, and not actually inviting someone into his personal space. It feels the same, somehow, either way.]
I submit. [Comes his wry answer.]
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Hector isn’t in the mood for sex; he’s tired and still healing from Isaac’s blade. But he waves his fairy over to receive a little more magical healing from it, then forces himself out of bed.
Dealing with Isaac is like training an animal made stubborn and wary by past abuses. Passing up an opportunity like this will set back whatever progress they’ve made.
Besides, Isaac knows how to press his buttons. His body isn’t craving touch right now, but Hector has faith that it will, very quickly, once he and Isaac begin.]
It would be more comfortable if we waited for real lodgings.
[He points out, even as he slides over into Isaac’s space.
Hector lifts a hand to Isaac’s cheek and tilts his head to the side so they don’t bump noses when he leans in to kiss him.]
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Hector tastes like rust and meat. Tastes like a predator, though he's anything but, the way he's kissing him now. And neither is Isaac, his hand dipping between them to palm himself, to work up a proper interest, willing his still-cold body to let him have this.]
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It’s the type of kiss that states intent, a kiss to herald a more complete joining of bodies. Hector leans into it, and feels himself beginning to awaken.
Isaac gropes a hand between them—impatient— but Hector doesn’t mirror him. He draws back, adjusts his angle, and leans back in to press a number of kisses to Isaac’s lips in quick and teasing succession.]
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He doesn't start to strip. With a lover, he would want to bear every inch of skin to touch and be touched, both of them open and vulnerable to the other. With Isaac... he expects his pants to be shoved down like before, quick and utilitarian, and everything else left in its place. If Isaac chooses to initiate more, Hector will follow his cues, but otherwise, he is choosing his battles.
His lips move from Isaac's lips, kissing his cheek, his jaw, the pale skin of his throat not covered by his collar. He licks and tastes, teasing with tongue and teeth but never quite biting down. Isaac will be rough, but Hector wants at least this piece of their coupling to be gentle. The angle bears his own neck to Isaac.]
Shall I prepare myself for you?
[Neither of them have the energy for extended foreplay. The hunters they had killed on the mountain had carried some basic supplies with them, including cooking oil that could be put to other use.]
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'twould be in your best interest...
[There's a velvety growl in his voice and it becomes clear he won't dismiss Crimson for Abel, not this time. But even as he says it he's easing Hector back over the rough cave floor, hitching his blood-stiff tunic up and up to lay his mouth over him, hot and wet and open over all the places where bones lie closest to skin he's broken and bruised.]
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Hector gives his fairy a silent order, and the tiny hands fumble through his bag and deliver the bottle to him.
The hot mouth pressing near his tender, healing skin has him flinching involuntarily, breath hitching. Isaac moves lower, tracing the path of his blade the night before. Once he's out of range for Hector to kiss and suck, Hector lets his head drop back and his eyes screw shut. He feels dizzy from sensation and from weariness.
He reaches down to blindly fumble his belt open. His other hand brushes through Isaac's hair, caressing but not seizing. He has a sickly suspicion of the memories such a gesture could dredge up for Isaac.]
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Ridiculous as he realizes it is, he half expected Hector's flesh to wear the smell of hers, the taste of hers, after all these years and a cold dip in the pond. Yet Hector is as he was that night in the woods at the base of the mountain, sprawled in the grass, the yeastiness of his skin mingling with the tang of sweat and iron, his scent and all making Isaac throb through no effort of Hector's own - and there's the truth of it. Hector, even belly up and throat bared like it's begging for the knife, wields a fierce power over him that it seems neither time nor violence can break. A power that would pull him and keep pulling them, helplessly, into the sandtrap of each others' lives no matter how deeply they could dig in their heels.
For now, the frustration in that is gone, squeezed out of his awareness by pleasure and need, always need. His lips skim the edges of the wounds he's laid, lovingly suckling at the smattering of scars along the way. Not all of them are his work, but Isaac's mouth takes full responsibility all the same while he smothers Hector's neck and chest in kisses, paying tribute to his body in the way he's never cared to do for the demons he's lain with. Hector is and never was just a piece of flesh, a warm hole, a throwaway.
He stops at Hector's heaving belly, half to make room for his fumbling and half at the hand smoothing over his hair. There's a twitch of his shoulderblades at his touch, but Isaac doesn't toss his head and shake him off. Doesn't need to, that hand sliding off him, naturally, when he straightens up. He hasn't a finger on either hand that wouldn't cause undue pain, and without the means or the will to trim a few nails, he assumes that Hector really meant it when he offered to prepare himself.]
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When Isaac pulls away, Hector opens his eyes and meets his gaze, dazed and flushed. He stops fumbling and shucks off his clothing in earnest, tunic, pants, and all. If Isaac is going to suck and worship the skin Hector bares, he's going to bare as much as he can, to get his fill of this strange affection while it can be had.
Naked, he spreads his legs and slides oil-slick fingers into the crevice of his ass. He's not usually inclined to put on a show- Hector's focus is usually on his partner not himself- but Isaac is waiting and Hector doesn't want to let the fires burning between them cool.
He bends his knees and lifts his hips as he traces his finger around the ring of muscles barring his entrance. The finger slips in, and he moves, but doesn't seek out his own pleasure from the motion. A second finger, and he lets out a sigh as he stretches his muscles. He works himself open, makes himself wet for Isaac's cock.
He takes up the bottle again and pours a little more oil into his cupped palm.]
Come here. [He bids, and makes ready to anoint Isaac's cock.]
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Had anyone had ever told him Hector would one day strip down and cant his hips, presenting himself like a gift to be opened, Isaac would've thrown back his head and laughed. But there's no laughter now, not a single word, as he watches, mesmerized, a slippery finger and then a second sink inside Hector, disappearing past his middle knuckles. Making room for him.
Isaac doesn't rebel. Spit sticks in his throat when he finally swallows, his chest going tight as he approaches like a siren-sung man to shipwreck. Every inch of his own bare skin prickles, eager.]
...from whom did you learn this pretty trick? [He questions Hector with a sideways look, a smile almost teasing the corner of his mouth, while plunging a hand down the front of his leather trousers. He carelessly pulls himself free, throbbing in his fist and already dripping precome.]
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It's no concern of yours.
[The memory of Rosaly, spread on their shared bed, yielding up her soft body to him, is for Hector alone. If Isaac tries to take that and sully it...
He reaches for Isaac's cock and grips it with unneeded strength as he glides the slicked hand along the heated length.]
Why are you talking? I thought you wanted to fuck me.
[Hector craves tenderness and teasing whispers back and forth during lovemaking, but if Isaac can't do that without invoking Rosaly's ghost, Hector would rather be fucked like an animal. He withdraws, physically with his hand and emotionally with his heart.]
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Of course. [He snorts mirthlessly, lips thinning when he looses Hector's grasp - one that feels like it could be anyone else's - and reaches to pour oil into his own palm. He smooths it over himself in a few long, efficient strokes. It's only a means to an end. But that's all this was from the start, he reminds himself.] Do forgive me.
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Isaac takes charge over his cock and Hector lets him, leaning back against the stone, legs still splayed open.]
Do you want me like before?
[On his knees, ass up, like a dog in heat. He’s too flushed and hard to be ashamed by the memory of it.
He makes to shift his legs around Isaac so he can turn over. Better for both of them that way, not to fool themselves into thinking of any future in this.]
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If that is what comes naturally to you. [He drawls while waiting for Hector to settle, strumming the studs along his shaft and wringing out a few more drops of precome with a rougher, meaner hand than Hector's ever was.]
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[Hector cuts off his own frustrated protest. What would Isaac know about what ‘comes naturally’ to Hector? He doesn’t want an impersonal mounting.
He turns back around, stubborn now.]
What comes naturally to me is to straddle you and make a seat of your cock.
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No. [He says, too quickly, firmly. Nothing else follows for a long moment. He looks away from Hector's face and back to his hand, stilling around himself. His breath weighs heavy in his chest, the back of his throat.
He squeezes.]
On the ground - now.
[It's a demand, but not a threat; he doesn't make to grab Hector by the back of his skull and push him down, make a whore of him like he accused him of being only a week ago. It's too cruel, even for him.]
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He turns away from Isaac, the muscles of his back tense. He positions his knees on his discarded tunic to give him at least a little padding in the hopes he doesn't scrape them raw. If he wasn't so hard he is sure he would pass out if he stood up too quickly, he might entertain the thought of walking away and leaving Isaac to his own devices.
But no, he promised this, has partaken in the kisses he bargained for, and can't back out now. Hector's word still means something to him.
Neither of them can grant the other what he truly needs, but this semblance of closeness and relief, he can provide.]
Do it. Take what you want.
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In that darkness, he sees teeth. A steely flash of teeth and blood and a clawed arm thrusting out for his neck, his knife jerking up and down through the air. A log splits in the fire and he snaps back to awareness, flinching and angry, sinking the nails of one hand into Hector's hip and bracing him harder than he needs to.]
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It’s not out of concern for Hector, he’s sure of that. The nails clawing into his hip and leaving beads of blood are proof of that.
Teasing? The playful mood from their kissing is gone beyond recall, evaporated into dark cold of the cave.
Once more, Hector wants to turn and see Isaac’s face. He doesn’t. Isaac wants him bent for mounting like a dog.
He bucks backwards, nudging Issac to action. Hector’s angry with both of them about how this has turned out, but damned if he’s not going to at least date his darker urges now that he’s here.]
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Not real, he insists, fiercely. She was never there, looking up at him with drowning eyes. But it had felt real enough to make his stomach swoop then and now, pushing bile up into his throat.)
He sucks down a breath. He doesn't know when the darkness around him and Hector grew cold, when it became intimately threatening. But there's an understanding that if he doesn't break through this moment pressing in on him, locking him in, it might just quietly break him instead.
Brute force isn't always the answer to everything, but it's often the quickest. And he remembers that neither him nor Hector expect anything less or better of him than for him to bullishly push through whatever wall he's hit. Anger is bigger than fear, because it has to be - and he clings to it as he doubles down and plunges into Hector, into the hot grip of tight, flexing muscle, chasing pleasure with everything he has.]
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Yes, do it! [He grunts. His ass, slick and worked open, is ready, and he's greedy for it now. He can lose his thoughts of Rosaly and his aching heart in the pure animal rushing of blood to his cock.
He braces himself on one arm, muscles flexing with the strain of supporting his weight against Isaac's force, so that he can get a hand between his legs to frantically stroke. There's a steady breathy pant of 'yes'es streaming from his lips.]
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A snap of his hips and he's in to the hilt, metal and swollen flesh and aggressive, iron desire, nails gouging deeper into Hector as he tugs him into the next thrust and the next, panting. He throws his head back, drowning in relief, sense and reason sinking with him. He thinks about fucking Hector brainless until blood slicks them both. Thinks about fucking him inside out and turning him over and laying his hands on him, slotting the webs of his thumbs around his throat and clamping his hands around him again just to feel the wild pulsing of muscles and blood vessels against the pads of his fingers. Relishing in the crazy thrill of toeing the line between here and too far gone while watching the stricken look in Hector's eyes soften as they glass over.
He's an animal. Taking and taking and taking. And Julia - if fate is so cruel as to bring them together again - could preach of the hope she held for everyone, could tell him he still had a human heart beating inside him. But he had seen the way she looked at him when she found him, alone, the year before Rosaly burned. He remembers the shades of hurt and doubt in her eyes, a look that seemed to say there was only so much more she could take of feeling like she was watching something slowly dying.
Not everyone can be saved. Not everyone wants to be.
What he know for sure is that it takes spearing Hector on his cock, hurting him, to come close to feeling alive. Like more than a dead man walking.
Nothing new. But he feels this open a pit in his stomach like it never has before, their ragged panting and the slap of skin on skin growing sharper and louder, scraping his eardrums.
He doesn't realize he has pulled out until he drops back, like the air's been slammed out of his lungs. Blood roars through him, a useless throbbing. His body has never failed him; it's begging for more, even if more is never enough. Even as he feels a deep, sick rage rolling through him and sucks in a breath through his teeth and knows it's over.]
Fuck! [He snarls at the wall, scrubbing a hand down his face.]
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Hector is close, so close, and his mind is blessedly empty of everything but the need for release, when Isaac jerks back and away. His hole body twitches with the sudden loss of heat and the emptiness.
For one beat, Hector waits to be re-mounted, but it's not just a momentary readjustment of position. He turns over his shoulder, flushed and panting and wild with need.]
There had better be enemies at our door....
[He growls, because if this is just another one of Isaac's power plays, and he's planning on leaving Hector teetering on the threshold of orgasm, Hector's going to need to murder someone.]
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Shut up!
[His voice tears through the dark, jagged and vicious.
Between Hector's desperation and his own hitting a peak, all of him is pulling apart at the seams. He grinds the heels of his hands into his forehead, into his eyes, until he sees stars, wanting to scream. It's tempting to drive his fist into the wall until his knuckles shatter. But it's as if his whole body has given out on him, consumed with a sense of helplessness as absolute and huge and terrible as the anger shaking his bones.]
Fuck me--! [He hears himself spit out the words like threat. He gulps down another breath through a sharp swooping feeling inside him, searching every part of himself for the man he knows he's supposed to be: the Isaac who would've looked at Hector now, flushed and trembly-weak and begging for cock, and let out a throaty laugh, the laugh of a mad king; the Isaac who fears nothing, looking for trouble before it could find them; the Isaac who could only sneer at the sad shell of a forgemaster he's become and pulp his skull against the rocks, doing them both a favour.]
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He grits his teeth, and forces himself not to take Isaac’s cursing as an invitation. What had Rosaly done for him, when Hector had worked himself into a state of alarm when they’d been together?
Soft, reassuring words, feather-light touches, and a steady presence to draw him out of his own head and back into the light. All things that Hector craves that he imagines Isaac would laugh off.
It’s hard to think with most of his blood still pumping in his cock, but Hector tries. Grounding. Distraction. A physical reminder of his presence that Isaac can’t ignore.
He crawls over to Isaac, who is scrubbing at his face, and reaches out to hook fingers into his collar to drag him down into a kiss. Biting, bruising, filled with the taste of coppery blood.]
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Fuck. Me. [He pushes the words out, grits them out through his teeth, shoving against Hector as if he knows what he's doing. While the past and the present play tug of war for his sanity, pain may be the only thing that makes sense.]
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He pushes further into Isaac's space, claiming his lips again while his hands push Isaac's legs down. He straddles Isaac, returning to the very position Isaac had rejected from the start. His cock, still in Isaac's death grip, prods Isaac's abdomen as Hector positions his ass so he could, if Isaac allows it, sink down and take it all in.]
'm not...fucking you...'til we have a proper bed....
[And on that day, he will have prepared Isaac for him, have worked him open 'til Isaac begged for more. That day will likely never come, but Hector has a vision of it and he's not going to let Isaac compromise it with a rash decision they'll both regret.]
...tell me you want it.... [He pants into Isaac's ear, then bites down on it. Not enough to mark or tear, but certainly enough to force Isaac to feel it, to make him stay within his own skin.]
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The only thing more unexpected than hearing himself ask for - beg for - what he does and nearly convincing himself that he'd throw what's left of his pride and dignity for it, is being refused, and by a man seething with lust. By Hector.
He doesn't know what to do.
Nothing seems like it's really happening. Half-pushed and half-leaning back, he expects for the bottom of this fever dream to drop out and for him to fall through, to fall back into his body. Waking, like he has before, once or twice, to the reality that he isn't alone and there really is a succubus or incubus on him, grinding down on him, feeding off his energy. But the rocks burrowing into his shoulderblades and the goosebumps that chase the chill sweeping across his neck and chest feel real. And, lust or not, he's more wired than he should be for scraping by on a few hours of sleep.
He bristles when Hector mounts him, legs framing his hips. Like the victor. Were this anyone else, he'd have thought about twisting his fist and tearing their dick from the rest of their body, lodging it down their howling throat. And for just a moment, while Isaac stares into the face looming over his, Hector does become someone else, something else, his features flickering so subtly, shifting out of alignment, throwing everything he thinks he knows into question. It's like the spores all over again, filling his throat and lungs and every hollow in his skull.
His hands shift to brace Hector's waist when the man lies on top of him, the magic in Hector's blood and bones vibrating at a keening frequency in harmony with his own. Isaac shivers into him at the sly sting of teeth catching his earlobe, at his voice as it slides, boldly, under all the layers of scar tissue he's built up and pries them loose, lifting them away, wanting and not wanting and twisting his face away. A twitch curls his lip, his muscles tightening like an uncocked spring.
Then comes a knee-jerk burst of power, an effort to heave Hector off him, to flip him onto his back.]
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So Hector lets Isaac shove him back, but he seizes Isaac's wrists and pulls Isaac down on top of him, not letting him retreat from this.]
...fine, like this, then....
[He parts his legs to make room for Isaac's body between his thighs. His nails scrap Isaac's skin where he can get to it around his gauntlets. He glares up at Isaac, face flushed and demanding satisfaction.]
Fuck me like you would if you weren't a coward.
[Hector with either get himself fucked or strangled. Either way, he'll at least find some form of release by Isaac's hands.]
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With a cracked half-scream, he swings his forehead into Hector's, pain splitting into his skull, half-blinded by flashes of light and blood dripping into his eye as he winds back to hit him again. He jerks his hand free from Hector's grasp. His right finds his own cock and he pumps fiercely, a beast in heat, thighs and abdomen flexing and frantic energy popping off the ends of his nerves as his balls pull tighter, tighter. Huffing, he shudders and comes, finally, hot ropes slapping Hector's skin, over chest and face. As if all he is and ever will be is as good as the dirt he walks on. He wrings himself dry, his breath short and rasping and hard. No sense triumph or bitter satisfaction. Only anger boiling black in his veins, all of him shaking with unspent violence.
It crosses his mind to let Abel finish on his behalf. To give Hector more than he ever bargained, driving home his mistake with every brutal, tireless thrust. But he waits for another careless word out of Hector's mouth, as if he needs permission, an excuse.]
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Fuck!
[He kicks and scoots himself back, though not in time to avoid the jets of seed Isaac squeezes out of himself.
That. Fucking. Bastard.
Hector's anger has always burned cold within him, and when he finally reaches the tipping point into fury, he goes quiet and distant.]
We're done.
[A low, unwavering tone. Hector stands while Isaac is still shuddering from orgasm, snatches his discarded pants from the ground beside him, and stalks out of the cave. The fairy flits out after him.]
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The pain in his skull is like an ice pick chipping into it to the rhythm of his heartbeat. A vicious, nagging pain. But it's worth it.
He spits off the side, balefully watching Hector as he turns his back and leaves before he reclaims his cloak and slings it around his shoulders, summoning a glowing magic circle that whisks him away to the edge of the woods closer to the mountain pass. The space to breathe what he needs -- and in the silvery light and cool dew of the early morning, he unleashes his wrath on the first animal to wander into view and is left with more half-raw rabbit than he has the appetite for. But he's in no mood to share, not with Hector or other woodland creatures.]
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The next time Isaac sees his bared chest --if he sees it at all, and Hector isn't planning on stripping for him again-- he will see that he has left no mark on Hector at all.
He finally wades back out of the pool when he looses feeling in his fingers and toes, and he lays out on the rocks to dry as the sun rises.
This is all his own fault. Hector should never have given in to his carnal desires. No more. Hector will take his satisfaction into his own hands, and rely on no on else from now on. It is what he should have done after Rosaly's death. Isaac can find some other warm body, if anyone else can stand to be around him long enough to finish the job.
Hector feels the feeble warmth of the rising sun, but he does not thaw. Future plans...where will he head now. Not back to Julia, except maybe to collect his belongings. That door, he closed the moment he fucked her brother. But having his weapons and supplies would be helpful.
He must find and rejoin Isaac eventually. Hector had let him live, and the lives that Isaac takes from now on will be on Hector's hands as well as his own. Hector has no purpose in life now, except to try to temper Isaac's darker impulses and make sure he does not wreck havoc on the common folk. It is Hector's penance and Isaac's punishment.
When he is dry enough to dress, Hector pulls on his pants and returns to the claim. That Isaac has left is no surprise. Hector gathers up the rest of his possessions and packs them up. The vague awareness he has of Isaac's presence feels like it is not too far off from Hector's chosen path, so he starts off that way.]
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Most of the library's keepers wouldn't give him or anyone else the time of day, absorbed in their own studies or with making copies of yellowing, disintegrating tomes when not preserving the dignity of the space and the priceless collection of books and maps and blueprints it housed through brute force. But after a whole year of the barest of exchanges between them, one demon scholar began sharing a few quotations from the latest philosophical text or work of poetry it was reading. Hell, boy, is not the world beyond these doors, but a door locked from the inside, it had told him, once. It all smacked of pretentious bullshit to Isaac, an annoying waste of time for a kid desperate to get his hands on some books on alchemy and devil forging. But it's only now that Isaac thinks he understands what it meant.
His mind is his own worst enemy. And he's rattled by how little it has taken for his defenses to crumble and for him to feel like a stranger in his own body and trapped in his own head, like he had for years, back when all it would take is a simple touch, a careless few words, to jack fury or panic into him.
That anger is all he has now, keeping him alive and alert and willing him to pay at least some attention to the path Hector's taking. It's not quite as much of a beeline towards him as Isaac suspected -- and he can only wonder what Hector's intentions are, hating that it matters in the least to him.
He might not know what to do with himself, but any thought of joining Hector on the road again has soured. Let him board a vessel and plunge to watery grave. If destiny called from the other side of the world, Isaac is sure he'd find a way across without him.]
imma fudge some travel times here so Isaac doesn't have to wait around for days
Hector takes it at a run, pushing his body more than he has since his quest for revenge. It's a relief to focus on the burn in his muscles, the cadence of his breathing. Unhindered by a traveling companion, other than his winged fairy, he can determine his own grueling pace.
He doesn't take the path that will cross with Isaac's, for now. He wants to do that when he's rested, properly supplied, and most importantly, completely cool-headed. So to Julia's cottage it is.
It is well into night when he reaches her home, but she rouses at the sound of his knock- a pattern they worked out together, to be cautious of her opening a door in a world of vampires and shapeshifters.
Hector's account of the past few days is brief and vague to the point of dishonestly, but Hector still gives Isaac enough respect to honor that wish of his. He makes no mention of another traveling with him, just that he'd been beset by hunters, wounded, and had needed to lead them away before he could return.]
It is safer for both of us for me to leave. I thank you, Julia, for your kindness and hospitality. Be well when I go.
[She sees in his eyes that he won't be persuaded otherwise, so with a sigh, she insists upon at least seeing him fed and rested before he wanders off into the wild unknown. She reheats some stew for Hector's dinner, and they divide up his devils as he eats. Julia is bequeathed Hector's strongest battle type Rasetz for protection, a Crow to keep watch without drawing too much attention, and a chef Pumpkin, in theory to help with cooking and chores, but really because Hector can think of no other use for it. Julia will accept no more fully-forged devils than that, saying the shards she still has will be more than enough.
When Hector sets out at dawn, he does so with his
inventory fullweapons, coin pouch, and enough supplies to actually support him on a journey. He also goes with Julia's resigned blessing, which lifts a weight he had not realized had been burdening him so heavily.Turning back one last time to wave at Julia before she fades from view, Hector then takes a deep breath and reaches out his senses to pinpoint Isaac's direction. It is time for their reunion.]
LOL fucking pumpkin
More of its stonework has crumbled in his absence, though it otherwise has largely remained the same, frayed tapestries and rugs and furnishings slowly rotting away and the few books left on it shelves blackening with mold. But it offers a roof over his head he doesn't care enough to mind sharing with spiders and snakes and the odd, wandering ghost. There's no point putting work into repair and reinforcements on a larger scale when he doesn't imagine staying long. It's just a place to haul in and skin carcasses from the hunt, to eat and rest, and consider his next move as Hector closes in. The world feels smaller and smaller by the hour as he does, and the silence doesn't help. Just magnifies his bleaker inner-narratives in the echo chamber that is his skull, his wariness sharpening as he waits up in a tower for sounds other than the wind whistling through the cracks it finds in wood and stone and glass.
His growing restlessness sees him flexing his magical prowess, daring to break away from existing templates and visual references to create new creatures from his own visualizations instead. It's harder than it has any right to be after the years of practice he's poured into the devil's art; but he knows, as the ancient incantation rolls off his tongue and he gathers his energy into the palms of his hands, drawing one of the lingering spirits from the castle walls to toy with, that his headspace isn't what it should be, what it could be. With Hector more on his mind than he isn't, Isaac ends up giving shape to a screeching, swollen mass of flesh and bone fighting for life. The second struggling, desperate attempt is less abstract in form: a beast-demon that thrashes into being like Abel had in its earliest evolutions, lashing out at him and drawing blood before it bends to his steely will. It's an imperfect being in all regards: small and asymmetrical, patches of its tawny fur missing along its chest and back. While responsive enough to commands, it stares blankly when left on its own, not noticing or recognizing the threat in a spider nearby that rears up on its back legs until it has already been bitten.
Isaac growls, refusing to give either mistake of his a name.
He's always taken failure hard. But he has the sense, even the maturity, to remember that, when it comes to dabbling with magic, setbacks are only temporary and his persistence would be rewarded. There has always been a sense of fairness, that way, when it comes to working with magic. Someday, he's sure he could surpass what was thought possible and impossible. Maybe even coast briney ocean air currents on a devil's back, casting a shadow over vessels slicing through the water below. It's something to look towards, to work towards. A thought he takes to the wooden tub with him where he soaks for a while, scrubbing a film of grime and sweat and blood off his skin, still feeling dirty afterwards. But it's not too long before another thought shoves its way to the forefront of his mind and sticks when he settles into one of the beds.
Sleep never comes, and at dawn he can't stand it anymore, cursing everything under the sun as he throws on the armour and leathers he had only just cleaned and sets out into the woods to meet Hector halfway, sword in hand. His expression darkens, his nerves on edge. That Hector and Julia met last night doesn't need confirming; he knows what he felt. It's the question of whether Hector's word still means anything at all that is begging for an answer, curiosity and suspicion eating him alive.]
You came all this way seeking my sister's company -- why?
[He demands, forgoing a more civil greeting. But at this point, his scathing bluntness should come as no surprise.]
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Hector is dressed in a fresh pair of clothes, a new sash around his waist, looking as put together and aloof as he ever did in the castle.]
I went to collect my things, and to make sure she is well. Julia is compassionate, and leaving her to worry over my fate did not rest well with me.
[He knows what Isaac really wants to know, but in this regression into the colder version of himself, before Rosaly had melted through his walls of ice, he does not offer the information. If Isaac cares to know, he will have to ask it.]
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He lifts his seven bladed sword to point at him with it. Gloved hand squeaking as it tightens around the hilt.]
What did you tell her?
[It's not like Hector to hurt her, not even out of spite for him. But he needs to hear it, needs to search his face for any trace of a lie if and when he says it.]
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Nothing about you. She still thinks you dead.
[The drawn sword and the hostile tone are nothing. That Isaac thinks that Hector would be so petty as to run to tell Isaac's secret? That offends him. It's a confirmation that he is best off keeping his distance.]
Where were you? Off at your castle?
[That was the right direction, and the right level of melodrama....]
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He's not sure what he expected when they banded together and set off, for Julia's sake - and in a way, he's grateful he's had the chance to see more of Hector, enough to suppose that he's better off breaking the last of this monstrous codependency and living alone but free than keeping the company of a man intent on controlling him, softening his edges, robbing him of his choice to end his life if and when he sees fit. He has survived without Hector before, for years, and he would again.
There's little left to say that he's willing to talk about. It has always been a challenge, the act of willingly exposing some emotion other than rage, let alone letting himself feel it. And now a wall has come back up between them that neither may be able to break through again.]
Yes - [a muscle jumps at the corner of his jaw] ...although I'm afraid there is no vacancy.
[He finds himself eager to return to his work, if sleep won't have him.]
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[It won’t happen without a fight; Isaac is worse than a wild horse, bucking at any sort of rein. Hector expects to be attacked, or for Isaac to teleport away and leave Hector to chase after. Hector’s penance, indeed.
He doesn’t draw a weapon, but his stance is open, ready to dodge or summon up a devil to serve him if he needs it.]
How many times have we parted this week, only to find ourselves forced back together? We may as well accept that our destinies are intertwined.
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[He was prepared for pushback and channels his fight into generating a portal for himself, his exit plan, willing to bounce around from one location to another ad nauseum to make a point. All the more incentive to invest more time and ambition into devil forging until he gained the means of pushing even further out, far enough to put Hector out of his mind and attempt to fill that gaping void he'd leave behind with something else.]
I escaped one curse already; I have ill need of another. [He declares, unsmiling. The sigil's steady, pulsing glow accentuates his sloping nose, the unyielding sharpness of his jaw.] Perhaps we shall meet again in ten years' time, assuming you haven't managed to drown yourself in the ocean.
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Part of Hector thinks he should just leave, and let Isaac rot away in his castle. Isaac would be upset if he drowned, he imagines; an end to Hector that didn't involve him.
But there's the dead and the living to think of. If Isaac is left to his own devices, more people will die.]
Go on ahead, if you must. I'll be there in a few days.
[There's no smugness in his tone. It's pure matter-of-fact. Hector's not going to wear himself out rushing there, but his arrival is inevitable. Isaac can play cat and mouse all he wants. The truth is, Hector has nothing better to do than follow.]
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the West Winghis tower, leaving Hector to make a place for himself anywhere else in the castle. There's no offer made to help; letting him in was never an act of forgiveness or grace or generosity. If Hector couldn't respect him enough to have kept his distance, than he deserves nothing in turn, and, in Isaac's mind, should consider himself lucky to be alive.With no real means of keeping him out, Isaac settles for slowing his progress with a lock and a magical seal on the door at the top of the stone stairs winding up the tower, so he can at least hear him coming when he's too deep in his experiments - or deep between the legs of the occasional demonic guest lured over by the surges of magic his work is generating - to sense Hector's approach early.
While he's made headway on the forging front, it's still not enough. The pursuit of perfection consumes him like a fresh obsession: he forgets to eat or skips it willingly, time slipping away from him as he throws himself into trial after trial, aggressively challenging his creations through exposure to stress and attack and pain in a bid to will them to evolve sooner, until they're both wholly exhausted.
Tonight he's hit another wall and has the sense to step away from his worktable before smashing it in half, hoping to clear his head. His latest devil - a wingless black dragon barely the length of two hands - takes in the world from its perch up on his pauldron while he leans up against the outer wall and closes his eyes a moment, filling his lungs with his first breath of raw, bracing air in nearly two days.]
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Hector tans the hides of his game for blankets and uses the down from slaughtered fowl to make a cushion, and soon enough he has a comfortable little bed to sleep in. It's a strange life, but not a bad one.
He worries for Isaac, though he tries not to let it show. His rival's work borders on obsession, far more than Hector's ever did. Some of the forged creatures he creates feel wrong. Hector had benefited from Dracula's tutelage in his youth, but it seems Isaac hadn't been afforded all of the same privileges.
So Hector takes up his hammer once more, and begins to practice again. It's the only true connection he has with Isaac, now that whatever was growing between them chocked and died that morning in the cave. Hector doesn't want to compete with Isaac; he wants to tempt Isaac to work with him. Even when they both served in Dracula's war, they had never actually collaborated. If there is to be a breakthrough, Hector thinks it would come from that.
Isaac hides away in his tower as he forges, but Hector takes to doing his work out in the open. On this particular morning, he is outside, (not unintentionally) beneath the window to Isaac's tower. He is working on a new project, building off of the pumpkin devil idea, but with a base of thorns and corpseweed. Mostly he wants to see if he can give the design some sort of use.
He goes through the motions slowly and precisely, demonstrating the foundations of forging that have always come naturally to him, but that could give another forgemaster trouble if they didn't know them. Isaac hasn't looked out the last few times he's forged out here, but today could be the day.]
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Devil Forging? On HIS lawn?The sight of Hector below stirs up a mean desire for a bucket of bubbling pitch from the days of defending the castle from raids on the part of the church's so-called army, though more of him just wants to bury himself under his blankets for another hour and disappear from the world. Hector is doing this on purpose - of this, he has no doubt. And it's hard not to consider it a challenge, when Hector hasn't shown this much interest in devil forging since they swore their loyalty to the dark lord.
He closes his eyes, the world feeling like its spinning even while he stands perfectly still.
With the memory comes the hot sting of something approaching jealous. Inescapable.]
What do you want?
[Months of avoidance, and yet it feels like they haven't missed a beat.]
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I want nothing. [That is a lie. He wants to be noticed, to find some way to connect to Isaac, to have some small piece of evidence that his time here hasn't been wasted.
He takes a step back from the partially-conjured mass of plant and crystal so Isaac has line-of-sight on it.]
Should I give it true arms, or leave it with vines and focus on imbuing them with poison?
[Hector doesn't really care about the destructive properties of his creation. For him, the intellectual puzzle is the interesting part, how he can balance his design with the strange laws governing magical physics. But hey, if he makes it strong, it can act as a guard-plant for the castle and keep out potential invaders.]
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It's your damned devil. [A beat.] ...Or a pathetic excuse for one.
[He can't remember a time when Hector consulted him on how to proceed on any of his own projects, but he's also wise to Hector's intentions to, as he sees it, weasel his way back into the closest thing to his good graces as he can get. It's like Hector's offering left untouched - none of these efforts equate to an admission of guilt, to an apology. But Isaac also realizes that if he ever heard one, someday, it wouldn't be of much use to either of them because nothing could be changed. The damage is done, and to forgive would mean that he's found some semblance of peace with Hector and with himself, with the hate and anger and fear that still shakes him in the cold, still hours of the night. It's possible Hector doesn't even know where he misstepped, or that he had at all; it's hard to say with the way they can dance around each other for years if they wanted to, smouldering and guarded, not saying what they mean.
Words can have fearsome power. Words can be mirrors. They can take memories and stir fire from the ashes, bringing pain roaring to life. For all his self-loathing, he doesn't want to explain, to talk to Hector about the demons of the past that have gone unconquered and relive his failures, opening himself up to pity or disgust, to any sort of judgment. He does enough to himself, on his own.]
Do not think I cannot see this ruse of yours for what it is. 'tis not my opinion that you want.
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'tis not all I want, but I would be curious as to your thoughts all the same.
[But it is not as if Hector can pry them out unwilling, so he does not press more than that.]
We could test them, your creature against mine. [Hector makes the offer lightly, trying to feel Isaac out. Isaac is fiercely competitive, but if he looks with a cool head, he might see the value in such a match. There is no better way of assessing a forged creature's strengths and weaknesses than to see it in action.
It is also an excuse to be in the same area of the keep at the same time, which is so rare these days. Hector doesn't know how to mend what's been broken between them, but whatever steps there are, they won't happen at a distance.]
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...one test. [He says, finally, disappearing from the window.
Trading his robe for a heavy winter cloak, one with a collar he can pull up to cover his nose and mouth, he locks his study and makes his way down on foot. The devil that keeps at his side for now is unlike most of Isaac's works, in that its design prioritizes form over function. It has no horns, no jagged, bony plates, or teeth like a mouthful of broken glass. From the waist up, its shape is even unmistakeably human, sculpted with a poetic attention to detail, from eyelashes and fingernails to the bony knobs of its wrists and the tendons threading its long, lean arms. A tribute to the beauty of a man in his youth. Isaac has given it hair, curls that fall to the shoulder and skin that looks so soft it could bruise, white on white. On its head sits a delicate, equally pale antler crown not unlike a crown of thorns, that glitters with crystal shards.
It doesn't walk; not in the traditional sense. Below the navel, its body tapers sharply into a pillar of blood-red tendrils that flex and slither and help move it along, like prehensile ropes of gut.
Isaac didn't create it with the intent to fight with it so much as to test the level of complexity and detail he's able to incorporate at this stage - a worthwhile effort, even if he had nearly killed himself by way of overexertion. But he's content to let this mock-angel challenge Hector's beast and let Hector believe his focus is simply on his creatures' usefulness in battle and on aimless experimentation while he continues to work towards the ultimate goal of forging his own transport.]
This devil is meant to poison at the touch, although this has yet to be put to the test.
[It turns its head, regarding Hector with gentle indifference. It has Trevor's jaw and Hector's lips, but there's nothing of Isaac in its face or its smooth, scarless torso.]
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...he wonders, with a stab of jealousy, if Isaac fucks it.
Hector turns back to his plant-monster and kneels. He channels his power into it to spark it to life as-is, with thin, thorny tendrils and a large bud that blooms into a razor-sharp corpseweed.
It unfurls and rises, using its roots and vines like spindly spider legs. It looks cartoonish set against the sculpted, morbid beauty of Isaac's creation.]
Mine is venomous as well. They might nullify each others' toxins. I can summon another devil if you want a better test of your devil's touch.
[Hector won't without Isaac's say; he's too likely to take it as an admission of defeat.]
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If there's any gentler emotion felt while making his approach and standing closer to Hector than he has in a long time, his eyes hold none of it. His face - sharper around the edges, bruise-like shadows darkening his eyelids - only speaks to what self-imposed isolation has done to him on a physical level. His gaze drifts over Hector as if his presence is little more than an afterthought before he turns his attention toward the plant creature as it rustles and writhes to life, towering over his own.]
No. [Crossing his arms.] Not yet. Should it lack resistance, I will know this now.
[Better any of Hector's devils than offering his own flesh in the name of alchemy, which he had been prepared to do when better rested.
A few of the mock-angel's long tentacles uncoil, reaching for the corpseweed. Slowly, thoughtfully, like how a person might feel their way through the dark to touch someone lying next to them. It probes a leaf and the length of a spiny vine, then the head of the corpseweed itself, curious. Isaac looks to his devil's face for a flicker of shock or pain, but its expression is calm, still, even as one of its tendrils touch a barb and retract, curling back into itself.]
...Immune, it would seem. [He drawls, flatly, after a time.]
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Hector wonders, unsettled, what this creature is made for.
His corpseweed spreads its leaves, forming a serrated barrier between itself and its foe. The plant has more offensive capabilities than just that- needles it can shoot, vines it can thrash, a puff of poisoned pollen, though Hector thinks he will never command the devil to use that, after that fateful night.
He focuses purely on defense in this match, though. He doesn't want to strike out at the innocent devil with the angel's face. He doesn't want to know if it bleeds.]
We are at an impasse, then.
[With a silent command, the corpseweed closes its leaves and begins to dig its roots into the soil. Soon enough, it has reverted to its bud form.]
There's wine and venison stew in the kitchens. You can warm yourself up before you return to your tower. If you want to do another test later on, you can use any of my other devils.
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How cautiously and carefully Hector is laying his bait, though, he thinks. A far cry from the Hector Isaac saw in that cave, aggressive and daring, grabbing him because he could, and get away with it. It's the only Hector he trusts as real.
He looks away from a breeze fretting one of the castle's ragged banners and stares into his eyes, blood pumping in his head and pushing at his sinuses. His devil turns from the plant-creature and looks on, impassive.]
To me, you could oh so nobly offer the clothes off your back [he seethes, lowly] and your life - and 'twould make no difference at all. You have shown me who you are...
[A corner of his mouth goes up, but it's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.]
...under all your preaching of kindness and mercy, and these hollow gestures made in some insulting attempt at conciliation. [A step closer, closing the distance.] Make no mistake: you are a beast as much as I, Hector - only you hide behind your masks, and your gentility, and then think it your right, your duty, to still my hand when I seek to strike down those who would have my head. [A snarl wrinkls his nose.] There is nothing on this earth that will absolve you of all the blood you spilled in service to the Dark Lord, and I will not have you drag me into your desperate pursuit of forgiveness.
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You think I don't know that I'm hell-bound? There is no redemption for my soul.
[And no reunion with his love. Hector can never clean the stain of blood off of his hands, but he can stop adding new layers to it. He can stop hurting others. It's a clumsy, doomed effort, but that does not absolve him of the burden of trying, for the sake of the people who aren't irrevocably damned. Isaac wouldn't understand.]
Go eat, Isaac. It's just food. I won't join you.
[He wants to take a page out of Isaac's book, and lock himself up in his rooms so he can lick his wounds in solitude.]
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Another man could have stepped back and taken that out, fuming in silence, because confrontations and the sheer, full-bodied energy it takes to sustain the anger that he has for this long are exhausting. But he's not here to make life more convenient for Hector, to make things more pleasant for Hector when, most days, he's barely functional at best, relieved when he's so bone-tired from overwork that he doesn't dream at all.]
Fuck your soul. Fuck redemption. [Said with a deathly calm, every word laced with venom.] They matter not a damned thing. We will all burn -- the only difference from one wretch to the next is that some will sooner than others. If you are not in any hurry, then you would best hear me now, for I shall say this but once more: my life is not yours to meddle with as it suits you... and I am not yours to mold into more pleasing a shape. I am not yours.
[His throat moves, jaw sharpening. He doesn't blink.]
Lay your hands on me again, and I will kill you.
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I haven't touched you, Isaac. It's just food. You need it to live. What is it about my presence that has you so afraid?
[Because that's what it is, isn't it? This refusal to accept any help, these protestations of a relationship that isn't there. Isaac is threatened, and is baring his teeth in response.
They are both just animals in the end. Isaac, the feral cat, hissing at anyone who gets too close, and Hector, the domesticated dog who keeps coming back no matter how many times he takes those claws to the face.
He snorts and shakes his head.]
Fine, eat or starve. You're right- you belong to none but yourself. If you choose to waste away into your grave, I can do nothing but watch it happen. You've made that very clear.
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You tread on thin ice!
[He hisses into his face, hating how Hector tears him down, painting him as someone who has never fed or fended for himself, a life spent entirely at the mercy of others' generosity. Hating how viciously every word cuts to the bone, even if, with every gash Hector opens, comes the bitter relief of knowing he hadn't surrendered his body in a moment's recklessness, and to someone this determined to make him feel lowly and weak, an ugly helplessness all over again.]
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[He wants to shake Isaac, to get it through his thick skull, but he’s promised not to touch him. Hector keeps himself restrained.]
You could take it to deny me of it later, if you won’t accept it any other way. You are the lord of this castle. Take it as your right.
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Much good it is being lord when you will not bend to me.
[Hector is beyond his control - but he knows this better now than he ever has, forced to acknowledge his presence in spaces he never meant to share, and to remember how suddenly the feeling of his touch on his skin had changed, putting him on edge.
A coward, Hector had called him then. Neither of them thinking it possible, maybe, for Isaac - a wolf in human skin - to keep from following through and fucking Hector into the ground, because that's what he's supposed to have done. Throw his head back and laugh, drunk on the power of having dragged Hector down to his level, making a miserable, needy wreck of him.]
If you meant to do me a kindness, then you would have left this place a very long time ago. But your lingering here is and has always been in your best interest, hasn't it?
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[Isaac doesn't want him here, doesn't think he needs him here, but Hector saw him nearly die thrice. Hector is here as a two-fold shield, to protect the world from Isaac, and to protect Isaac from the world.]
And as I recall it, you didn't want me bent. Would you have that of me now, a thrall to your whims?
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I would not have to ask. 'twas you who all but threw yourself onto my cock, like a bitch in heat, when I had wanted nothing more to do with you. [He chuckles. It scrapes in his throat, humourless.] You got what you deserved.
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That was a particularly dissatisfying lapse of judgement, and one that does not bear repeating.
[Hector takes matters into his own hands now since then, although he's pretty sure at least one succubus has come sniffing around the borders of Isaac's keep, drawn by the tension he can't quite relieve on his own.
He looks at Isaac, with his gaunt face and dark-ringed eyes, working himself to death, and thinks they are both getting what they deserve.]
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His fists squeeze tighter.]
I could have snapped your neck.
[No trace of remorse or uncertainty colours his voice. Could've - even should've, something whispers to him - left a body in the cave for the rats to find, like those of the few demons he has shoved out the tower window they came through in the last half year, their laughter still ringing in his ears. But he hadn't, Isaac thinks, having laid back and let things happen, and for longer than they should've. Lost and dizzied with lust, running hot and cold. He can feel a twinge of phantom pain in his forehead, though the wound closed long ago. Nothing left of it but a memory; the only thing a devil's healing couldn't smooth away.]
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[They are doomed to dance around one another, never bringing it to an end. Hector has accepted it, and the fact that Isaac hasn’t is infuriating.
He narrows his eyes at Isaac.]
What was it that made you stop that morning? I couldn’t have hurt you, in that position.
[He’s replayed it in his mind, cast through various lenses of regret, anger, and confusion, and it has never made sense to him. Isaac smacking his head when he tried to press on, yes, but what cause was there for that initial retreat?]
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Of course you couldn't have!
[He snaps, unsure who between them he's trying more fiercely to convince and frustrated that there is any convincing to be done at all. That Hector must consider him delicate and fragile - like a woman, his mind suggests, unhelpfully - if he thinks of himself as an actual threat.
Between Hector and the demons he's had, up against walls and pressed into floors and bent over his worktable, Isaac can't deny that there's no comparison: Hector is stronger than the company he chooses to keep. But what Hector also has that they don't are inhibitions. And though he has some fight in him when desperate - Isaac better understands this now, not all of him wary of it - he has never seemed to share his hunger for power and control. Not to the same extent, anyway, or they may not have both been alive to have this conversation.]
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[He clings, stubbornly, to the fact that he had delivered on his promise. Hector hadn’t performed poorly; Hector’s lovers, few though they were, did not leave his bed unsatisfied.]
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[A few beats pass. His breath comes in harsh, rasping pants, shoulders locked. No danger here - though his heart won't stop kicking at his ribs like it wants out. It takes an incredible effort just to will his hands to open, to stay loose at his sides.]
You did enough. [He adds, lowly, eyeing him.] ...You served your purpose.
[If only that were true.]
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Well, regardless of what you want or don't want, it won't happen again.
[Gods, he wishes he sounded resolute when he said it. As if all it would take to break that resolve wouldn't be for Isaac to show up at his bed chambers and demand it.]
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He leans up against a dead tree, and slides down it into a crouch after a while, realizing his hands have clenched again on their own. Which is just as well when he can feel a trembling in his fingers. It's just the exhaustion catching up to him. Just the stress he's placed himself under, funneling as much of his lifeforce into his creations as he could. Just the cold. There are no shortage of excuses he can tell himself, and not a single one of them is honest, and he could live with that. He could live with silence, he tells himself.
But the words are crawling up his throat with nowhere else to go anymore, forcing their way through his gritted teeth.]
I saw her. [He tells the ground; the only way he can say it.] My sister. I heard her screams and knew not it was her until her body lay bloody and broken at my feet.
[His fingers push through his hair. Snatching fistfuls of it, knuckles blanching, pressed tight to his skull.]
'twas all a fucking lie!
[He breathes and breathes, his sides heaving, his eyes darting over the ground in desperate search of something.] ...She was never there, in the woods; I feel her now, up on the mountain. Alive. But I can still hear her, begging for mercy while she is ruined and torn apart.
[A cold, queasy dread shifts in the pit of his stomach.]
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[Hector's voice comes out as a whisper, gruff with horror. The visions Hector had seen that night...they were nothing in comparison to what Isaac had suffered.]
I'm sorry. I didn't know. [There is a cliff that spans between what Isaac needs and what he will accept, so Hector steps near the tree and kneels, but doesn't reach out to touch him. Isaac's love for his sister is the only piece Hector has seen of him that is good. For that to be so perverted....
Gods, he wishes he possessed Rosaly's patience and gentleness to try to bring some modicum of comfort to Isaac.]
I know that you know she is safe...and what you saw will never come to pass.... She is protected. My strongest innocent devils keep watch over her. She will have forewarning of any threat, mortal or supernatural, and between her wards and the forged creatures who reside with her, she will be safe.
[Hector knows that Isaac knows all of that, and that the knowledge will not stave off the memories that come in dreams. Only time and numbness will do that.]
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She was wise never to have followed me.
[He hisses.
To the castle, he means. Six years his junior and wise beyond her years, the gift of foresight aside. How could he have protected her when he couldn't protect himself? When it had taken him three years, three years too long, to bring Abel's first form into being? His first devil with a whiplash temper to match his own and strength that he could count on. Strength that let him fear the vulnerability of sleep just a little less knowing that for every unkind thing breathing at his door, smelling anxiety and human flesh, there were gentler eyes watching the rise and fall of his side. A guardian at his bedside that could wound and kill unprompted, prepared to save him in ways he wishes it had been there to do when his own hand and dagger had failed him.
Hector can't promise him anything. But if there's any justice in the world, any at all, then Julia wouldn't ever know that same fear with those devils at her side. She'd never be alone.]
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Yes, she is much smarter than either of us.
[And Hector has learned from his mistakes. He has done for Julia what he’d failed to do for Rosaly. He’s given her the tools to keep herself safe.]
What was it that gave us such visions? I didn’t sense any demons about that night.
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She urged him to forgive; he couldn't.
She had stayed in Cordova, saying goodbye to a brother whose existence had gone unspoken about, a nameless baby unmeant to have lived; he left for the castle, never looking back.
He wouldn't bow to a creature and was broken, given something he could never give back; only a day after, he had wiped his nose and dried his face and picked himself up, setting to work forging his first spear before he had even learned how to used it.
She looked him right in the eyes while Cordova was falling, the two of them alone in a house, and he could see in her face she was scared by the Isaac she saw; he let her run, sending his men the other way.
He isn't sure if Julia is smarter than either of them, when what he did was only what he felt was right. What had felt like the only real choice he could make and live with. But she is more patient, more graceful. More deserving than them of a life better than the hand she was dealt. But it is what it is.
Isaac lets his hands fall, reluctantly. They dangle between his knees, opening and closing; he looks up, briefly, only to answer.]
'twas a damned patch of myconid. Crimson found them first, burning to ashes what it could before they vanished into the earth.
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[That is shit luck, though Hector should be used to that by now. But the fact that it wasn't a targeted attack almost makes it worse. At least then, he could fine a purpose in it, could formulate a plan to defend himself or even avenge himself. There is a certain helplessness in being the victim of a random attack.]
I've seen no sign of any more nearby, but I will look out for it especially next time I venture out.
[He will have to train his devils to recognize it and respond to it as they do to more animated threats.]
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I am no fragile waif in need of your protection.
[He rasps, latching onto a different thread of their conversation, one they keep circling back to only to arrive to the same infuriating conclusion every time: that Hector doesn't seem to think he's strong enough on his own.]
Think you that I flit about the castle being waited on hand and foot, fed and bathed and dressed, while others yet fought my battles for me? That I would shrivel and die without your intervention?
[He shoots him a cutting look, baring his teeth.]
I am a devil forgemaster! [Stabbing a finger into his chest:] I bled for this!
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[Hector is half-exasperated that he has to explain specialization, a basic pillar of human society, to Isaac, and half-saddened that Isaac probably doesn't believe he can allow himself to rely on anyone else. He presses on.]
It is not pampering for me to be on guard of an enemy we've both run foul of. It would be foolhardy for me not to be.
[He leans back and lifts an eyebrow at Isaac.]
As for 'waiting on you' and 'bathing and dressing' you, I haven't proposed that. Granted, I think you could benefit from giving yourself a break; that is true of almost anyone. If you allowed yourself a massage, or a nice bath, I bet you'd be twice as productive in the lab as you've been while driving yourself to exhaustion.
[Gods, if Isaac would consent to allow Hector to pamper him, just for an hour, Hector absolutely would do it. Because Isaac doesn't need anyone to care for him, but Hector needs someone to take care of.]
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All that's come of digging in his heels is pity. And being asked to show some kindness to himself and to the body he's run ragged and carved his unrest and hurt into, to treat it just a little less like a tool, a means to an end, the way Dracula had. It's just the sort of thing Julia would have said, if she saw him now.
He's glad she can't. Or that if she already has, in one of her restless visions, that he has no way of knowing it.
He swipes at his face, angrily, his eyes filling, burning.
All he wants is to feel like himself again. Proud and vicious and unstoppable. He wants to smirk crookedly at this talk of massages and indulgent baths and answer with a snide proposal of his own, inviting Hector to wipe his ass for him if he was that eager to be of service. The laughter that used to come so easily to him doesn't this time, not today.
Something else snags low in his throat, a soft, choked noise, and he has to look away, hands fisted.]
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He pushes himself up and stands.]
Think on it. The food is in the kitchens. Anything else...you know where to find me.
[He can't force his help onto Isaac, so the kindest thing he can do is give Isaac space to reevaluate. Later, slowly, Hector can put out more offers, to have his fairy sooth the knots in Isaac's back, or to draw a hot bath, or to share a new cask of wine. To press too hard will only spook Isaac.
So he turns toward the door to make his way back into the castle.]
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He had never actually said yes to the offer turning over and over in his mind. Not once in the weeks it has taken for him to make peace with his stalling plans to take to the freedom of the skies and embrace a more nomadic life. But leading Hector up into his study for the first time and letting him draw a bath, involving him in a ritualistic strip down with a long, pointed look through his lashes, is as close as Isaac comes to it. It's no coincidence that he has finally scrapped the wooden basin he's done his washing in and forged a wood-fired tub from metals and rough-hewn stone; something more comfortable, more proper for his height. Beside it lies a pail and washcloth, and some soap.]
Is this indeed a bath or your attempt at making a broth of my bones?
[He asks, pausing in the middle of tugging at his boot to consider the sprinkling of crushed herbs in the bathwater with a wry, barely-there twist of his mouth. Lavender, especially, has become a familiar scent in his ongoing struggle to sleep through his nights, perfuming a space often smelling of sweat and sex and wood smoke.]
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[Hector doesn't look up at Isaac while he strips. His sleeves are rolled up the elbows and he is currently giving the steaming water a swirl with his hand. The temperature is just how Hector likes it. Isaac has remarked on a similar dislike of the cold that Hector has, so he is hoping 'just short of scalding' is the way to go.]
'Tis nothing sinister. Lavender, chamomile, and rose for relaxation of the body and mind. Soak in the water, breath in the air, and supposedly you'll sleep easier tonight.
[It's the kind of home remedy used in villages, insomuch as the villagers bathe. It could be a placebo effect of belief and the simple act of taking time dedicated to relaxing, but Hector has known this mixture to help ease some pains and stress in those who have tried it.]
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[He chuffs a mirthless laugh, jerking his leather pants down the sharp cut of his hipbones, his thighs. His gauntlets slap the floor, the last of his clothes.
Crimson watches them from Isaac's chair, lazily lashing its tail.
He's not unaware that it's the first time he has offered his whole body - still long-limbed and sinewy, winding patterns laid over most of the places where he has scarred - and its finer details for Hector's consideration. He's not uncomfortable with the exposure but he doesn't send his devil away, either, when he pads towards Hector and stands beside him, coolly expectant, crossing his arms.
It occurs to him that Hector's at a height where he could easily grab a fistful of his hair and jam his face into his crotch. The thought flickers through his mind, there and gone.]
Supposedly.
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[Hector finally turns his head when Isaac comes to stand beside him, and he does look. He's not doing this for sex, but that doesn't mean he has to pretend to be blind. Isaac's body holds a harsh and savage beauty, and Hector catalogues it in his brain.]
It's no magic cure. But even if it does nothing else but scent the air, it won't hurt anything.
[He spreads an open palm toward the tub, an invitation for Isaac to step into the steaming water.]
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He steps over the rim and smoothly dips a foot into the bath, never needing to ease himself in. Near-scalding is a comfortable temperature for him; it's holy water that burns.]
Remind me... [He begins, sliding the rest of himself into this tea-like brew and leaning back with a weary sigh, water lapping his collarbones] ...what is it you enjoy in tending to my whims?
[Lazily slinging an arm over the tub, he slants Hector a look as if this exchange is and has always been their normal.]
I had thought you above acts of servitude when you fled the castle.
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[The sight of Isaac draped, loose and lazy, in the tub brings a smile to the corners of his lips. Isaac is so rarely relaxed, and Hector did this.]
In Dracula's castle, servitude was compulsory. This, I choose.
[He dips the cloth into the water and wrings it out. Scrubbing it against the bar of soap, Hector works up a mint-scented lather.]
For you, if I am not misjudging, being a man means taking care of yourself. You pride yourself in your independence. I use a different metric. I've chosen you as an ally, so it is a point of pride that you benefit from my presence.
[Short-lived thought it was, Isaac had been a lover of Hector's, and he wants to attend Isaac's needs. Hector is certain voicing that thought would bring this truce to an end. Alliances and value, perhaps Isaac can understand and accept.
He moves to the end of the tub so he can start washing at Isaac's feet.]
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It's almost too raw still, even now.
He lets Hector's answer sit with him a while, scraping his nails lightly over stone.]
...And this you would do for the Belmont? [He drawls, skeptical, planting a foot up on the rim. Steam rolls off his unflushed skin.]
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Do you think I should find him and offer?
[He lathers the foot and releases it so Isaac can dip it back into the water to rinse.]
But no, I wouldn't. That isn't the type of alliance we had.
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...you could try, although I don't imagine his woman would suffer your presence for very long.
[He slips his foot back in. Soap foam sizzles, dissolves.]
And what matter of alliance would this be? [He asks, tonelessly, as if he's only making conversation, and nothing said between them is of any real interest.] One of convenience?
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I suppose you could say that. He and I had similar goals, and we resolved not to hinder one another. That is all.
[He can't imagine having a conversation with the Belmont outside of that context, much less initiating physical contact like this.]
That alliance has concluded, in any case. He's gone back to 'his woman', and so long as Dracula's power stays dormant, I expect we shall never cross paths again.
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Oh, Trevor, Trevor, Trevor.
Isaac can admit to liking him a little, in his own way. The man had put up a decent fight, at least, when he was paying attention. And lord knows he'd have fucked the Belmont if time had permitted; the desire had been there, peaking, while he choked on air and blood-spattered half-threats, writhing on his knife. It'd have been like breaking a wild colt, Isaac thinks. Needing a little time, a firm, steady hand, persistence. But it'd have been inevitable. The human spirit is only so strong.
Dracula's spirit, on the other hand -- ]
It won't. [He sits himself straighter, muscles rippling up through his arms and in his back as he sits himself up straighter, water churning around him.] Not forever. Should he but stir, however, I would think you and I among the first to know it.
[It seems unlikely that a vengeful spirit reaching for potential vessels could go unfelt.]
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He releases Isaac's foot when he starts to shift, and dips the cloth back into the water to rinse and re-lather while he waits for Isaac to either settle or bristle against his help and demand to finish the job himself.]
Yes, we shouldn't be caught unawares...but I think we have time. Immortals have nothing if not time, and after his last attempt failed, he won't act in haste.
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His magic courses through our veins yet; I have found myself wondering if we too shall be longer-lived than most. [Wryly:] ...Assuming we aren't put out of our misery first, one way or another.
[A forgemaster outlasting the violence in Wallachia to die when he is old and grey and limp-dicked strikes him as about as likely to happen as the Belmont turning whip and will against God. A sword through the heart could also be considered death by natural causes, he thinks. Not only more realistic, but a preferable exit.
He glances at Hector after a while, motioning him over with a lazy curl of his fingers. Might as well put him to work.]
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There's no way to know for now. But we've seemed to age normally thus far.
[Hector has no desire to live past a single mortal lifespan. He never sought vampirism to that point.]
Death will find us in its own time. There's no need for us to do anything to seek it out.
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It's a fairly smooth part of his leg that Hector has gotten to scrubbing now. Isaac lets him, wordlessly. It's neither keenly pleasurable or unpleasant, though the motions he's making are calming in their sureness, their steadiness. But at the press of fingers into skin he slides free of that grip, easy, sinking back into the bath.]
No. [He says, coolly.
Massage is beyond what he's agreed to. At least, for now.]
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My father sought eternal life, you know. I can think of no greater form of torture, but he honestly thought he wanted it.
[That and gold, the oldest and most cliche desires of an alchemist. How someone with so little creativity thought he would be the one to crack the code, Hector will never understand.]
Do you think our craft will die out with us? I have fathered no children; my bloodline ends with me.
no real kids for them is probably for the best, lol
He sighs through his nose, lolling his head back.
No child left alive in that place remained a child for very long, though, he muses.]
Perhaps there will be others clever enough to master this art in time, even if it takes centuries for them to emerge. Curiosity and a hunger for power is without limit among men, and the dark lord will be wanting of new flesh to groom to his purposes.
[He pauses, thinking.]
...I am rather amazed you never had a part in siring a cambion or two, not even in your sleep. [Said to the ceiling with a touch of grim amusement.] More than a few succubi spoke highly of your vigor. [A beat.] Which was rather suspect, as you had struck me at the time as being a man with all the passion of a plank of wood.
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[Hector has...if not fond, then certainly intense...memories of rutting between thighs or breasts, and so much time kneeling with his head buried between a writhing succubus’s legs.
He thinks it was a mixture of fearing retaliation from Dracula if they truly impaired his favored young student and the pure novelty of his solution that has led the demons to humor him and not force-feed from him.
Hector’s rather amused to hear that they’d spoken so highly of him, even if Isaac does offer that fact in mockery. He snorts, and follows the line of Isaac’s leg so he can scrub above his knees.]
Did you solicit that particular piece of gossip, or did they offer it freely?
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Clever boy. [He purrs, mimicking their lilting tones with a twitch of amusement on his lips.] ...I had no need to press them, for they were quite fond of wagging their tongues when they weren't putting them to good use.
[Always keen on getting a rise out of him, in all senses. He idly plucks a chamomile bud from his chest, rolling it between the pads of his fingers.]
All their tales of you and your ten inch horse-cock could only ever lead to disappointment.
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Is that why you were so interested in me back then? I am sorry to disappoint.
[He shakes his head, amusement outweighing the embarrassment of this conversation.]
Do you think you left little half-demon Laforezes behind in the castle?
[He pauses with his arms wrist-deep in the water, hesitating to brush his cloth up Isaac's thigh without some indication of Isaac's permission.]
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There was more to my interest than what lay between your legs.
[He leaves it at that, closing his eyes a moment and fighting the pull of a dark curiosity that dares him to ask what Hector may have heard about him from others' lips. Not all rumours that swirled around the castle and came back to him fell into the realm of amusing nonsense, and in a black fury, his hands had found their way around the throats of a few of those giggling succubi, their laughter ringing in his ears long after he had squeezed and bruised his fingers into their skin, silencing them.]
Oh, an army of little hellions, surely. [Wearing red jasper, he learned, eventually, kept them from draining his strength, which allowed him to fuck with abandon. And he did, for years, seeking them at times as often as they sought him, shoving them down and pumping into them with all his savage frustration.] Although it hardly matters, now least of all.
[He notices Hector's hesitation before long and cants his head at him, unamused.]
...Have you come only to stare?
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[Goaded on, he pushes forward with a soft snort, plunging his arms further into the fragrant waters to trace Isaac's thighs with the cleaning cloth. He slides along the outside of one leg, then shifts to the softer inner thigh.]
Does it bother you, that there could be living beings still with your blood in their veins?
[Hector wonders if he could kill a demon, if it were possible it was his offspring. The demon's origin shouldn't matter, but Hectors thinks it would, for him. It is a weakness, but one that keeps him human in spite of his dark powers.]
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They would mean to nothing to me, begotten by a demon-whore.
[The cloth passes along his inner leg and he stirs, fingers tightening around the tub's rim.]
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[Maybe it is that easy for Isaac. Hector has no attachment to the family that spawned him, but he isn't sure the apathy would go the same way.
He moves to the other leg, up and down the thigh, slow and gentle. Hector's not trying to seduce. This, the closeness and conversation, coexisting in the same space, is the goal.]
There have been some succubae sniffing around the castle. I assume you're aware.
[Hector could put up wards, but this is Isaac's abode, and must be consulted.]
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You assume correctly.
[With a cocked brow, he presses Hector on, half-expecting all the while for his touch to lose focus, daring to wander where it hasn't the right to be. But it doesn't - and for the moment, their truce holds.]
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He reaches as far up Isaac's legs as he can go without groping more tender areas. He draws the cloth out of the water and reaches for Isaac's left hand.]
I don't want to see your cambions firsthand.
[Try to have a little restraint, Isaac.]
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Then leave.
[The cloth sweeps over the beginnings of a crisscrossing of scars that extend to his inner elbow, the tendons in his arm flexing and unflexing and his hand one word away from snapping out to grab a fistful of Hector's tunic.]
You would do well to remember that my business is my own, as is this castle in which you sleep. [Crisply.] My purpose here is not to make life more comfortable and convenient for you.
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[Hector asks quietly, not yet withdrawing from the side of the tub. He washes up the forearm, over scars and inked designs. If Isaac sends him away, he'll have to see to the rest of the scrubbing himself.]
This hasn't been so bad, has it? [A real conversation after months of isolation, warmth and sweet scents, and the temporary suspension of the rivalry between them. Hector doesn't wish to lose that.]
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In all the ways he has changed and magic has changed him, he's still human in ways he can't shake. He still yearns for a meaningful place in the world, for a sense of belonging somewhere, even if somewhere only means being welcomed between someone's legs, wanted for just a moment. He still yearns for company: wanting to sweep his hands over skin and raise goosebumps on command and feel his own tingle, alive; wants to pull moans from willing and unwilling throats, wants to bury himself into someone and leave a part of himself inside. The reason demons were here in his tower, where Hector stands now, is because Hector wasn't.
But this he doesn't try to explain. He doesn't know where he'd start if he meant to and doesn't like the way thinking of Hector and the last time they lay together still makes something twists in his gut. When he opens his mouth again, it's easier just to slip around the question and counter with one of his own.
Leveling Hector a look through the gauzy steam:]
Is it jealousy that compels you to judge me?
[It's less a question seeking understanding and more of one seeking confirmation.]
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Does it matter? I don’t want to kill a child of yours, but neither would I want to allow it to take what it wishes of me.
[The question for a question is a damning answer in itself. The tangled situation demon children present is real enough, though. He doesn’t want to be put in that situation.]
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My devils alone are my children.
['Child' feels like the wrong word for the product of a loveless union, a living thing carelessly brought into the world. There is no loyalty among succubi, as far as he's aware, and their business is to feed and to create when they can with as many men they can sleep with, not to rear those cambions. The indifference is mutual.]
And should it ever come to pass that I find a creature claiming to carry my blood, be this real or imagined, I will destroy it myself as I would any other.
[There's no room for negotiation in his voice, his mind already made. All things considered, it may very well be an unintentional act of mercy.]
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He slides the cloth past Isaac's elbow and up the tense, wiry muscles of his bicep. It draws him closer, though he keeps his eyes downcast, like a good servant or a man wanting to avoid the vulnerability that would come with eye contact.]
I will leave them to you.
[Hector has no illusions about the goodness or loyalty of demons, but he still doesn't want Isaac's blood on his hands.]
Have you ever considered taking human lovers?
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Of course I have.
[He says, with a snappish edge. It has often felt like the only way he could bed a human would be by force, and by then they'd have been victims, in no position to offer anything resembling what he would later see while watching Hector and Rosaly, smouldering with envy and wrenching, hopeless want. He's known demons by and large to be selfish and unkind, but he can't say he hadn't learned from the formative sexual experiences many provided. It had meant something, long ago, that someone had wanted to touch him, had wanted to familiarize himself with his body and with the idea of seeking pleasure in others. The focused attention had been more thrilling than threatening, then; it had been a simpler time, before touch became a weapon and one he discovered he could use as well.]
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But since when has Hector ever gotten his way with Isaac? He has been granted a cloth and warm water, and he will have to make do.
Out of Isaac's direct line of sight, it's a little easier to continue his line of questioning.]
What would you want of them? Someone to be a partner, or someone to submit to your will? Do you know what you want, Isaac?
[It's too bold, but Hector can't figure it out on his own and frustration makes it hard to hold back his tongue.]
HOW DARE HECTOR HAVE NEEDS OF HIS OWN
It seems too good to be true, anyway, Isaac tells himself. In the end, the more a person knows of him, the deeper they can cut him. And the more he knows of them, the more of his time and his interest that he invests in their lives, the closer he is to a disaster waiting to happen. For every moment he'd enjoy, he'd spend the rest braced in constant anticipation of the other shoe dropping, and senses fate would never keep him waiting too long.]
...Does it matter? [Throwing Hector's words back at him.
He follows him with his eyes until he disappears behind him, lost in his blindspot. Then Isaac listens, waits. And though he's well familiar with the washcloth on his skin, despite never quite relaxing into Hector's touch, there's a twitch at his shoulderblades when Hector makes to guide him, to lean him forward, tension flaring through his spine. His back stays tight as a drawn bow, all of him stilling.]
HE’S NOT SAYING IT SHOULD totally absolutely BE HIM
[Hector tries to sooth away the stiffness of Isaac’s back, but Isaac is stubborn. He huffs.]
This is supposed to help you relax. What will it take for you to uncoil? I could fetch wine.
[Hector is invested in this working. If Isaac comes away more tense than he went in, Hector will never here the end of it from him.]
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A bottle of wine in arms' reach sounds like his next mistake. He isn't sure he could limit himself to a few mouthfuls after this long. But it may be all that can smooth his nerves over now - for his own sake. Maybe he'd even find sleep at the bottom of the bottle, if he were lucky, if not a moment's peace while awake. With the day's work catching up to him and the luxurious, toe-curling heat of the bath sucking what's left of his will from his bones, it's not untrue that there'd be nothing he'd accomplish now that he couldn't after a few solid hours of sleep. Without the energy to feed his devils, he'd be as good as useless.
He loosens his hands, drops his shoulders.]
...Bring me the bottle. [He demands, hollowly.]
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I shall be right back.
[He doesn't run, but he takes his steps in long strides to hasten his trip to the kitchens. He chooses a bottle of red, and unstops it. He doesn't bother with goblets.
He makes his way back to Isaac's rooms and offers him the bottle.]
Can I continue now?
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Enjoying yourself, are you?
[Another joyless swig. He licks away a fat, red bead sliding down the neck of the bottle and sets it down at the foot of the tub for the moment, not looking Hector's way.]
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He maneuvers around the tub as he works, and when he reaches Isaac’s wrist, he glances down at the pale expanse of chest.
Isaac could scrub himself there easily enough. Hector has steered clear of the most sensitive areas, but he’s not pulling all his punches. He leans forward and sweeps the cloth over Isaac’s collarbone.]
Would you like your hair washed next?
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Why are you here...?
[He looks at Hector after a long beat.]
Why choose this when you are not without choice?
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You...you understand a portion of myself that no other could. I think there is a possibility we could work together and be better off than either would be on our own. Last time was not a proper test of what could be between us. I did not know what horrors you had witnessed.
[He shrugs a shoulder, trying to be casual in the face of a serious conversation, wary of provoking Isaac’s claws.]
I don’t know if we could ever be considered ‘friends’...but we are likely the closest either of us will come to that. It seems worth taking a chance on.
[Because Hector, at least, had been content with solitude when he had known no other option; now that he has felt what it is to be close to another person, he cannot go back to the aloofness of his youth.]
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'tis a sad state of affairs if you must look to me for some manner of deeper fulfillment.
[With every clash of perspectives and opinions, Isaac knows less and less of what understanding they do share beyond the burdens and possibilities of this cursed magic others have dreamt of wielding. And he doubts that what they have is truly enough to satisfy a man who once took another's hand in marriage. Hector had had a place in the world and in someone's heart, once; he could do better than this, holing up in a ruined castle watching life pass him by. But Hector made this choice of his own will, fought him on it. And he'd have to make his peace with it, fully, if he hadn't already.]
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[Hector stands, leaving the hand towel folded on the floor beside the tub. Hector has known true love, and does not expect to find that a second time. What he seeks with Isaac is something else. Understanding of the parts of himself he concealed from his wife. Companionship, whether it be physical or not. This evening, though, Isaac agreed to the bath, nothing more.]
Lounge as long as you wish. We will see in the morrow if relaxing has done you any good.
[He crosses the room, but pauses at the door on his way out.]
If you decide you are in the market for fulfillment, you know the way to my chambers.
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Is that so?
[He pauses with the rim at rest against his lower lip, holding his gaze long enough to suggest it may be a legitimate question.] ...Have you considered taking a more human lover?
[Snorting:] God, Hector...
[Nearing the bottom of the bottle, his laughter comes more easily already, trickling out of him. A little more of the wine misses his mouth, a bead sliding down his skin, another unfurling between his legs in the bathwater.]
A fine choice you've made for yourself.
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[He looks over Isaac's form, naked and sprawled, skin pink from the heat of the water, looking as languid as Hector's ever seen him, laughing.]
And from where I stand, it doesn't look so poor a choice.
[He bows his head in mimicry of a servant to his lord, the role he's played this night, and turns back toward the hallway to leave.]
hope this timeskippery is okay -- let me know if you wanted anything changed
It's quiet inside. He can hear the soft rush of air in and out his lungs, his heartbeat in his ears. The room smells of must and fur and Hector's sleep-warmed, earthy musk - not unpleasant. He leans heavily against the doorframe, helping himself to a sip as he looks to the darkened shape of Hector's body in his bed and wonders how long it'd take Hector to notice him, or if he was even asleep at all. Curiosity wins out before long; he snaps his fist shut and kills the flame, making his approach with a smooth rolling of his hips.]
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His instincts are honed to sense threats; foreign magical signatures, hostile intent. Isaac's aura is known and accepted, and his approach doesn't send Hector shooting up from his furs. He's vaguely aware of the noise and the glow in the hallway, and he shifts lazily from his side to his back to peer up into the darkness.
His eyes catch the silhouette of his rival standing above him, and he hums, pleased.]
Come, sit.... [He murmurs, drawing back the furs to make a place for him.]
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It seems I kept you waiting.
[He husks, not looking up. With a grim uptick to his smile, he lifts his hand away and settles for sitting sideways, only half of him on the bed, one foot still in contact with the floor as if in readiness to leave at any moment.]
I imagine you feel them circling the tower like gnats as well...? [The succubi, he means. He could have let one in and still isn't sure why he hadn't and what brought him here instead, courting what seems like their next regret. The wine's not all to blame, but neither could deny that it has played enough of a part. He sniffs and holds it out to Hector if he'll have any - what little is left sloshing around, at least.]
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I didn't know if you'd come.
[He takes the bottle Isaac offers and lifts it to his lips. Isaac hasn't left him much more than a mouthful, enough to whet his appetite but not satisfy. He hopes it isn't an omen of what's to come...or not come.]
Yes, they're an annoyance, but I've barred their entry.
[Isaac has Hector all to himself, whether he wants it or not.]
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[He looks to the wall, listening to the rush of wine to Hector's mouth, the pop of his lips peeling off the bottle. Hector should be asleep - they both should be. But here they are, together again. Never by accident.
He idly traces the seal of Solomon into his thigh, sighing.]
I was half-hoping I might bear witness to a vicious, bloody battle upon this night -- you and them locked in a bitter struggle over damaged goods.
[He chuckles into the dark, his shoulders shaking. Hector stepping out, steel in his hand and in his jaw, and returning drenched in succubus blood would've been a lovely surprise.]
Ah... [He smiles vaguely at his lap] ...how disappointing.
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You said before you would have killed anyone who touched me. Now you wish to be a spectator. Which is the truth?
[Hector is more than the equal of any succubus, so he'd not lose unless he was completely caught off guard, or if they came in numbers enough to overwhelm him. But Isaac has presented him an opening to probe, so probe he does.]
If you want to see me fight, I am happy to indulge...in the morning.
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Oh, Hector, Hector, Hector~
[Despite the sing-song, mocking lilt to it, there's an honest weariness in his tone.]
'twas not you I meant. ...Although you too are as much a broken man as I. [Or he'd like to believe so, anyway, to lessen the hot sting of shame forever burning a hole in his chest. He sticks a hand out for the wine, flapping his fingers impatiently, only to remember that Hector has no doubt polished it off.]
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Is that what you want- for me to fight the demons for rights to you? I thought you'd consider it trespassing for me to interfere with their coming to your keep. I'll allow them no longer.
[Isaac is welcome to the empty bottle, and whatever last lingering droplets might be coaxed from it. Hector hands it over and pushes himself up.]
Do you need more? [Leaving the warm nest of his blankets to trek down the chill stone hallways isn't ideal, but he'll do it to keep Isaac content.]
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[He isn't sure he means what he says, but he's past the point of caring, the wine having worn down the jagged edges of sobriety. The chattering of his demons have quieted down and everything feels fuzzy and faraway, a little easier to live with.]
Yes, be a dear and fetch another bottle, would you? 'twould be a shame to have it gather dust.
[He'll help himself to Hector's bed in the meantime, crawling into it and lying over the place on the mattress his body has warmed.]
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He holds in a hiss as bare feet touch stone floor. He cheats a little at the task, and calls upon one of his fairies to race ahead and bring a new bottle. He meets the creature halfway, its speed greatly hindered when burdened with the wine.
Even with the journey halved, his toes feel like ice blocks by the time he returns to his bed, bottle in hand.]
You would have made quite the spoiled lordling in another life. [He says, but fondly, as he nudges Isaac to make room for him.]
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[He lets the image wash over him, rolling onto his back after a moment and filling his lungs with a long, sleepy breath and feeling joints pop up alone his backbone.]
For that cheek of yours, you would be first man I would have bent and flogged. By my own hand, of course... [Wetting his lips, he turns his head from the ceiling and looks hazily into Hector's face.] ...for I would not leave to my subjects a task so deeply personal.
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What tool would you use to flog someone for so 'deeply personal' an offense? [The question comes breathy to his lips, as if he were speaking of a flirtation, not bodily harm. With them, maybe it is one and the same.
He starts to picture it, Isaac in fine garb, and Hector stripped to the waist, bound to a flogging post. His pulse flutters, and he doesn't turn to try to meet Isaac's gaze in the darkness.]
Would that be another of your examples for all to see, or would I merit a private audience?
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You and I alone.
[He purrs. In reaching for the bottle, he clumsily bumps it with his knuckles and knocks it off his chest. It lies at his side, cool glass pressed to his ribs, while his fingers smooth down his belly and over his bulge.]
You shall be stripped and bound to a beam first... [he palms himself, kneading] ...I should like you to be properly introduced to the bite of the whip.
[The castle dungeon had had all manners of tools to rival those the Church reserved for heretics and blasphemers - and among them, whips with tails and some without, others woven with shards of metal and bone and meant for tearing ragged flaps of skin and meat away on every stroke. There's as much beauty, at times, in simplicity as with brutal efficiency; he'd wanted to savour the experience laying every stroke with precision and care, inflicting as much pain as possible without ending the punishment prematurely. Of course, the presence of a fairy would help.]
A simple leather one would do. And when you could no longer bear to stand, you would be bound to a sawhorse, naked as the day of your birth.
[The scene unfurls in the darkness behind his eyes, fresh and bright: laying kisses over Hector's raw, wealed back, staining what little skin left untouched behind his hungry lips; wandering behind him, where the sawhorse forced Hector's taut, quivering legs apart, and sliding an oil-slicked candle up the split of his cheeks before easing it inside him. Lighting it and letting it burn slow, wax puddling over the floor.
Half the pleasure would be in the build of anticipation for the both of them: pacing, humming to himself while lazily swishing the whip around. Feinting, twice in a row, just to watch Hector's body tense and wobble anxiously before the next snap lifted him onto the tips of his toes, sizzling stripes overlapping.
Blood pounds in Isaac's cock.]
...You might even come to enjoy it.
[It hangs in the air like a promise, a smile in his voice. He shifts onto his side after a minute, contemplating Hector through half-lidded eyes - the sort of long, unblinking look that can lay a man bare. Then he closes the distance with a lazy stretch of his arm, nails hooking into Hector's trousers. That he might've drank too much to be effective is a real possibility, but there's enough to be done with fingers alone, if that's the case. Hungry flesh wouldn't say no to the attention.]
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This close, he hears and feels Isaac shifting to touch himself. Hector's breath hitches, and his cock stirs. Having spent years in a vampire's court, he is no stranger to pain, but what Isaac speaks of, torture edged with teasing, pain delivered with the promise of forced pleasure...Hector has no defense against that.
...he doesn't know that he wants to defend himself against it.
Isaac reaches for him, and Hector rolls to face him, drawing closer when he should pull away. They face each other under the merciful veil of darkness.]
...you are the lord of this castle. Whatever punishment I merit, you alone can deliver.
[He is well aware he is offering himself up like a lamb for slaughter.]
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Then, as lord... I demand that you yield.
[He lifts his hand away to frame Hector's face, sweeping his thumb down his lower lip, tenderly.]
...Show me, Hector, just how badly you have ached for me.
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He shifts closer to Isaac's body, letting his cock prod against Isaac's thigh, a growing, rising testament to the desire Isaac is asking him to prove.
He releases Isaac's thumb and kisses at the fingertip, the knuckle, whatever skin he can reach.]
Please, I've had nothing but my own hand since the last time you fucked me....
[He rocks his hips, seeking the heat and friction of Isaac's thigh through the layers of clothes that separate them.]
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You poor thing...
[Snorting softly, his hand drifts to press into Hector's shoulder, not with the force to roll him onto his back but with just enough to convey the intention. He pushes up to sit cross-legged, after, dizzied with the sudden shift in gravity. His head is still swimmy and throbbing a full-skulled throbbing when he takes Hector by the legs and hauls him over his lap with effortless, careless strength, thighs loosely framing Isaac's hips.]
Soon will come the day when you know the kiss of the lash... [it's barely above a whisper, a promise edged with a playful threat] ...but for now, we shall simply have to make do.
[Both his hands thrust up into Hector's tunic, fingers fanning on the way down, his nails raking the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his stomach. His touch lightens, slowing, as he reaches Hector's waist, and with a finger alone he skims his shape through his pants, unhurried.]
Let there be light... [He teases, pausing to reach for the bottle and skewering the cork with a nail again, popping it easy. He helps himself to a healthy swig, rolling it around in his mouth before swallowing. This wine is a little sweeter, fuller in taste, sliding cool down his throat. Even easier to drink than the last.]
...'twould be a shame to work by touch alone.
[But even as he says it he tips the bottle just enough to pour a little over Hector's belly, leaning over him to catch it as it drips with a sweep of his tongue, sucking the wine off his skin.]
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The rake of nails down his bare belly has him shuddering. He inhales sharply, and holds in the breath when Isaac pours the wine. He shivers in spite of his resolve to be still. His stomach isn't a particularly efficient cup for Isaac to sip from, but he tries to serve in this role that Isaac has put upon it.]
...you're doing a fine job thus far....
[Light or no, Isaac is sending every nerve in Hector's body firing. His legs spread further apart, and his ankles draw together around Isaac, instinctively trying to encircle him to keep this delicious torture going.]
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Have your fairy fetch a candle. [He insists in a sleepy drawl, sighing into him.] ...And oil, perhaps, to spoil you with. Yours will not be a body like any other.
[Then, as if a thought occurs to him, he lifts his head to look him straight in the eyes through his messy fringe.] I should like to better see you, and relish every last inch of your flesh.
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He silently calls out the fairy and sends it rushing to collect oil and candle to offer up to Isaac.]
Mmmmm. A benevolent lord you prove to be....
[The fairy flits back with a candle, which he offers up to Isaac like tribute. Isaac needs no match to light it. The little vial of oil follows. Hector had that near at hand, in case the occasion to use it arose.]
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[He straightens up, looking to the devil on its arrival and sliding the candle from its grasp. The oil next, set down beside him. After a look around and some consideration, he realizes there isn't a place on the bed to keep the candle without the risk of lighting the bedding, and there's enough sense left in his head to recognize that Hector wouldn't find it as amusing as he would.]
Allow me to put your devil to good use. [He'll hand the candle back to it and tap the wick, a wisp of fire from his fingertip catching. The flame flutters gently, bathing Hector in a dreamy-hazy glow. He breathes softly through parted lips, mesmerized, his eyes tracing every line of his tensing body for a long moment.] Beautiful...
[Then the spell breaks - and the hands that work Hector's pants down his hips and midway down his thighs pin his legs back enough to fold him in half, dragging him closer for them lie back to chest.]
...more than enough to break a priest's will and have him renouncing God for but a taste. [He huffs a laugh, reaching for the wine again.]
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The fairy hovers above them, flying in little circles and sending faint flickering candlelight spilling down upon them. Shadows dance across Isaac's face, and Hector looks up at him from where Isaac has positioned him, as a supplicant.]
You need renounce nothing to have me. I am here for the taking.
[Isaac sips at the wine, but Hector writhes against him with a deeper, darker thirst.]
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...Indeed.
[There isn't a man alive, he thinks, who could say no to another man laid out like a sumptuous banquet, this exposed and trusting. He doesn't need to spread him to consider what he's working with, but he can't take his hands off him either way, feathering his middle finger along his taint to the soft of his balls and back, feeling a clenching in his guts when he stops to sweep his thumb over the furled skin of his hole. That Hector doesn't seem scandalized in all this is as surprising as the fact that he himself remains soft and that he has made his peace, mostly, with the dampening effect of the alcohol. His hand is that much unsteadier when he dribbles wine onto Hector again, some of it sliding down his spine and his crack. Isaac nips hungrily at an ass cheek and moves to lay broad swaths of spit around and over his hole without thinking twice of it, as if it's what he's always done, tasting the rawness of Hector and wine. He has nothing but time, now, to go with his unusual generosity, fingers wrapping around Hector's cock and tugging to a lazy rhythm.]
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A finger is what he expects, what he is dizzily anticipating, but Isaac is loath to be predictable. He comes at him with wine and with his tongue, and Hector screws his eyes shut and buries his face into the bunched-up blankets to muffle his groaning.
Fuck. Fuck. It is even more breathtaking than when Abel did it, because this is Isaac, in a rare mood to reward and to coax pleasure rather than to inflict pain. Hector drinks it in greedily, like a man come across a desert oasis.
He has had barely more than a mouthful of wine, though he feels as drunk as Isaac from pleasure alone. His cock dribbles in the circle of Isaac's fingers, red and straining already. Hector won't last long. He rolls his hips to get more friction out of that unhurried fist.]
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He softens his jaw and tongues him as deeply as he is welcomed, steadying Hector as best he can with a firm hand while glossing his skin with hungry, sloppy kisses. For the moment he pauses - and he does pause, letting his jaw rest in a way Abel doesn't need to - he breaks a string of spit with a flick of his tongue and smiles at him, his sly, feral edge breaking through the haze.]
Don't get used to it. [He warns, freeing Hector's dick.
But his touch stays patient and indulgent, eyes half-closed as he looks Hector over and wallows in the sweet suffering that makes him that much more perfect under the velvety wash of candlelight. A flushing, fuckable wreck that has him lamenting the desire he can't fully act on.]
'twould seem... [he swabs precome from the tip of Hector's cock and rubs it over his entrance with a calculated calm meant to be infuriating] ...that even the most stubborn of cunts will open to the blessing of a warm tongue.
[He chuckles at the thought of turning the Belmont's body against himself and horrifying him, while plucking the stopper from the vial. The oil spills out and more than intended, enough that he's able to slick a few fingers on Hector's skin.]
I have never known it, myself. But... there is enjoyment enough in watching you squirm.
[He presses at him with the pad of his forefinger, gauging how much give there is to Hector's body first before he slowly wills himself inside.]
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He shudders, his overheated cock missing the warmth of Isaac's hand when he releases him.]
Do you...want to know it? I would do it...for you....if you permitted.
[He pants, voice hoarse and needy. He has been allowed to do so little for Isaac, though it is hard to complain when that finger presses in, filling him. Hector tries to press backwards, eager for more.]
I'll give you...whatever pleasure you'll accept....
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[His smile closes, his amusement dimming from his eyes. He focuses tingling energy into his fingertip and fires off a few pulses inside him for good measure.]
I would more enjoy your pretty mouth were it put to work elsewhere.
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[The fizzle of energy at Isaac's fingertips runs straight up Hector's spine and sends fireworks shooting into his brain. He moans, fisting the blankets around him to keep from bucking so hard he knocks Isaac off of the bed.]
I'll do it....Anything you want....It pleases me to satisfy my lovers....You can fuck my mouth...sit upon my face...anything....
[He wants to learn the trick Isaac is doing inside of him, so that he can inflict this shuddering, overwhelming stimulation back on him. He wonders if he will remember once he's come- orgasm is approaching so quickly and intensely that he thinks it might render him senseless in its wake.]
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[This is cause and effect at its most gratifying, Hector clamping down on his finger with every raw current of magic he jacks into him, those desperate little moans they're dragging from his throat making something in Isaac's chest tighten. There's no harm, as he sees it, in manipulating the sacrilegious magic already surging through his body to further an equally sacrilegious pleasure - what's another sin to the damned?
He channels more of it into his hand, as though moving through the process of calling up a tortured soul for the shaping, daring to advance from experimental little twinges to sending a more powerful jolt through him. Maybe someday, Isaac thinks, he'd find a way to manipulate the unbroken flow of Hector's own magic and have it pump aggressively where he wants it to -- but for now that remains a foggy, wine-dream and they have to make do with what they have.]
I shall hold you to your word. [He says with a crooked, knowing smirk, easing a second slickened finger inside and sawing them both in and out; as for when he'd come and collect, his smile will never say.]
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The amplification of the tingling magic, the second finger filling and stretching...Hector is shoved forcefully over the edge of his pleasure with a cry. His cock spurts seed onto the bunched-up pelts, his vision goes white. His body shudders, then goes slack. The only sound he can hear is the drumming of his own heart, a heady, rapid beat that soon begins to slow into exhaustion.]
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...Finished already?
[With Hector's release also comes the release of magic he feels needling the bare skin of his arms and chest and neck up to his scalp, the still-damp roots of his hair tingling. He can only wonder how much more restless the creatures outside are now, all but helpless to resist a forgemaster's gravitational pull.
The sadist in him urges him to keep at Hector while he's raw-nerved, driven to discover how many fingers on both his hands he's able to accommodate. But the rest of him is content to leave a few avenues of pleasures unexplored for now. He sets Hector down, contemplating the gentling heaving of his ribs as his pulse settles. Exhaustion flatters him, the fuck-me eyes and softness to his face pulling at something inside him. Snorting, Isaac looks back to his bottle and swings his head back for another gulp.]
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He reaches out and brushes his fingers against Isaac’s side, almost in disbelief as he murmurs.]
If I’d known you could do that, I’d have been fucking you the entire time we were generals.
[He wants Isaac to stay, so that Hector can offer himself up for whatever encore there could be in the morrow when the wine no longer dampens Isaac. Asking might drive him away, though. Better to let Isaac claim a place here than to offer it to him.
Hector nestled into the blankets, burrowing to the side so that a length of bed remains for Isaac’s taking.]
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You must forgive me for having my doubts. [He says in a sleepy, slurring tone, both of Hector fucking him and the idea of them fucking each other in the castle.] ...Had you made to lie on top of me then, you would have been most fortunate indeed to leave with all parts of you intact. [With a humourless smile, he knuckles away some wine dripping down his chin, licking it off his finger.]
Well... I don't suppose much has changed.
[The mattress dips and bobs as Hector shifts, but Isaac doesn't turn or lie back in the space he has made, humming to himself while staring blearily through the shadows at the wall in front of him.]
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[He's in a fine mood, made bleary by sleepiness. Isaac has a free pass from wrong-doing for at least a few hours in Hector's reckoning. That orgasm had shaken him.]
I think much has changed, for us to be here. Did it work? Are you more relaxed?
[Hector is, though that was not the goal. Isaac isn't lying down, but at least he hasn't risen to leave yet. That must mean something.]
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[He latches onto the word, both puzzled and vaguely amused.] ...for what?
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Hmmm, don't worry about it. Morning will tell.
[That is easier than keeping up the questioning when they are both tired and content. Hector gives the fairy a silent order to snuff the candle, leaving them in darkness. If it makes it harder for Isaac to return to his room, Hector doesn't mind it.]
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We shall see. [He answers, emotionless, skimming his hand over the bottle with a quiet reverence as though its smooth shape is an extension of Hector's body. When the light goes out and the bedroom blackens, he has already made his choice as to whether to stay and obnoxiously monopolize the bed or leave; he eases off the mattress and takes the wine with him, a little unsteady on his feet but as determined to see his way out on his own as he came in, a wisp of firelight leading him to echo chamber his tower has become. It's quieter tonight, for once. And for just long enough for him to sink into his own furred bed, where a mercifully dreamless sleep is waiting.]
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He sleeps, curling up away from the wet spot left by his peak, and wakes with the dawn. Hector washes, dresses, and pads quietly down the hallway to the kitchens to make breakfast. He's no chef, but he can manage enough to keep himself fed. Slices of bread and cured meat, a porridge sweetened with a few foraged berries from the forest, a couple of hard-boiled eggs. Hector eats, and as he has done since he came to the castle, he leaves a portion for Isaac, which the other forgemaster may or may not eat. If not for the locks on his tower door, Hector would be tempted to send it up to him via devil.
With that task done, he takes his forging work outside with him once more, though this time he doesn't put himself directly under Isaac's window. He'd never been able to forge in sunlight back in Dracula's day, and he finds he likes it. That his latest projects have been plant-based gives him even more reason to venture outside of the castle walls to find a place to forge.]
For Cryptsleeper - Ghostly Siege on the High Seas
[Everyone has heard rumors of the Ghost Ship. The whispers persist, insidious and pervasive, throughout the court of the Pirate King Dracula, in spite of his efforts to silence them.]
Pay it no mind. [He orders Hector, the newest and youngest of his vassal captains. Hector looks up from where he kneels before Dracula's throne, determination lighting up his silver eyes.]
My king, I will see it delivered to you, if it can be taken, or sunk if it cannot. It shall plague you no longer.
Hector.... [Dracula shakes his head and sighs, sounding much wearier than such a great and fierce lord should.
The Ghost Ship has become almost a Holy Grail within the pirate court. The list of crimes attributed to it vary wildly from tale to tale- vassal ships plundered or routed, treasure gone missing from holds, ships sailing into a fog and coming out impossibly far off course. Some of it is the typical tall tales of old sailors, but still, the rumors sow seeds of doubt in Lord Dracula's absolute mastery of these waters. Each captain covets the chance for victory over such a foe.]
I hear it's full of the fiercest warriors ever to sail. I'll find them and use their skins for sails! [Godbrand slurs over his grog. Hector hates him fiercely, and touches nothing whenever he's forced to board Godbrand's ship. Damn Viking and his disgusting habit of making people into boats.]
It holds weapons. Powerful ones. [Carmilla purrs. There's lust in her catlike eyes, but it's a lust for power, not for sex like she'd have everyone believe. If given the opportunity to seize an advantage, Carmilla will take it. If not given the opportunity, Carmilla will insert a stealthy knife into a back to make the opportunity.]
Our lord said to leave it be, Hector. [Says Isaac, ever infuriatingly loyal, and secure in his standing with Dracula. He is the pirate king's right hand, his most trusted officer, and Hector HATES him. For all Hector's talent, he cannot hope to win the standing Isaac has...not unless he can present his lord with a prize greater than any other.]
I will not fail in this. [Hector swears to himself as he sails out from the Pirate Court's base in defiance to his Lord's orders. His crew, all reanimated, do not question him or caution him against such acts of well-intentioned mutiny. His little dog, also undead, similarly accepts his direction without fuss, though with more demands for attention whenever Hector has a hand free from the wheel.
He sails for most of the day, but does not drop anchor when the sun sets and moon rises, bright and full, over the dark water. This is the time, he knows from the stories. Though the tales agree on little else, moonlight is key to unlocking the way.
He uses a compass he built himself, a mixture of modern science and old-world superstition. It would never be accepted in any of the colleges in the cities on land, but Hector is proud of what his tinkering has accomplished. Rather than pointing him due north, the needle spins, then stops, directing him eastward. As he pilots his ship in that direction, a mist forms on the waters around him. Another one of the rare agreed-upon signs. He must be on the right track.
The fog grows too thick to see through, and the light from his lantern illuminates only a sphere of the deck of his ship. Hector relies solely on the compass to set his course. It's slow going, inching through the waters, course correcting as the compass needle spins, then slowly pressing onward. He's almost ready to give up for the night, go curl up in the captain's quarters where Cesar is already snoring, when a dark shape appears in the fog. Finally.
He gives his crew the silent order to cast anchor and lower the jolly boat into the water so Hector and a selection of his crew can row to their prize.]
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But as imposing as the thing is, as towering as it projects itself, it is a thing of no life. As Hector's smaller vessel approaches the great, unnamed ship (for it is unnamed, it always has been, even in the stories about it), no shots are fired. No cannonballs try to deter their approach. There is only the lapping of the waves. No gulls shriek overhead.
There is nothing. Hector may as well be approaching a tomb.]
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The lights on the ship are a sign that Hector is on the right track here. The same style as his lord’s ship. Perhaps a ship stolen from Dracula’s fleet, now begging to be restored.
It’s not the most strategic move, but Hector is the first to throw a grappling hook up to catch the great ship’s rails, and the first to begin the ascent. He could claim it is because he is a real leader (patently untrue), or that he cares for the (un)lives of his crew (not untrue). Really, though, he is the first on board because he is insatiably curious.
A ship this size necessitates a crew. Where are they? Even at night, there should be a watch. And if it be abandoned, how had it not been found and claimed already?
Giving a quick eye around for traps, Hector beckons for his crew to make their way up the ropes and onto the deck of the seemingly abandoned ship.
One of the reanimated sailors carries a lantern with him as he climbs, and Hector takes it so he can examine the ship more closely. It is old, but not in such a state of disrepair to no longer be seaworthy. Curiouser and curiouser the mystery grows, and Hector grins in spite of himself.]
Come, [He tells his men, even though they need no such encouragement from him.] let us see if anyone’s home.
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Precious little gives away the ship's secrets on deck, save for the space beside the great wheel that overlooks the whole of the deck. Oh, the wheel is as normal as everything else, but beside it? Beside it is a small group of instruments, far more sophisticated than any ship save Dracula's. There's a barometer with a digital read out, same for a thermometer, and a little screen that's labeled surrounding area and is really just a radar system. This ship, whoever the owner is, they know secrets that they probably shouldn't. Hell, that they absolutely shouldn't.
It's a matter that continues the next level below. There? Oh, it is pipes and whirring and hissing, muted by some means but present all the same. There's no way of knowing, but it is a key part of the ship's autopilot capabilities, the reason the ghost ship is a ghost ship. No man steers it - it steers itself, somehow able to avoid storms and ships alike.
There is a door there, the one that leads to the third deck. It is a thing made of steel, and a thing locked.]
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It’s warm. [He remarks, pressing a hand to the pipes. Whatever strange mechanism powers this ship, it is working. Hector’s practically vibrating with excitement.
In a ship left without guards, seemingly without defenses, the locked door may as well be a target. Hector cannot go anywhere but there.]
Break it open. [He orders his men. They are more used to ranking down or prying open doors made of thick wood, but Hector assumes they can make do. No one has appeared yet to stop them, so they have time. Stealth, it seems, is also of no concern. If there is anyone within, drawing them out would only help.
He steps back and lets the burliest members of his crew take his place, raising their battering ram. If that makes no dent, Hector will have them use gun powder, but he’d rather not risk harming the vessel and depleting their supply unless he has to.]
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So down and down. These steps are metal, unlike all the wood elsewhere on the ship, and pipes run down beside the steps. Whatever lies at the heart of this ghost ship, everything seems to originate there and...
...and it is an open space, the decor of it a little too close to the golden geometric patterns of Dracula. They're apparent on the floor, along the walls, splayed across the ceiling. It is the center where things become much stranger, for there a coffin remains, tilted upright at a 45 degree angle upon a dias. There's great containers of blood flanking each side of the coffin, and if anything is within, it shows no life.
But the blood is moving it seems, constantly trying to balance between the two containers it's in. Here, the silence of the ghost ship is no boon at all. It's a threat, lingering and heavy.]
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What is this? [Hector whispers into the oppressive silence to break it. He knows what in the basic sense- great vats of blood- but why?
He presses a hand to one of the glass containers, smudging the dust as he checks the temperature of it.
Finally, he can take it no longer. Worse than any cat, Hector always needs to look inside, no matter what toll his curiosity takes.
Not bothering to wait for his crew to all gather round and ready themselves, Hector approaches the coffin and puts a hand to the lid to check it.]
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But oh, what lies within. The coffin is not locked, and once the lid is touched, it moves quietly and without anyone else's help. Automata are not strange among Dracula's things, and so much of this ghost ship appears to use if not outright copy the finest of the vampirate king's ships.
There is a moment of silence as the figure held within the coffin wakes. He can't be much older than Hector - if anything, he's probably younger - all soft golden hair that contrasts with a truly gnarled scar that slices right down his chest. It misses major organs, oh yes, but only barely.
And then those eyes snap open, gold staring up at Hector for just a moment before the figure begins to float upwards.]
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The figure rises, the show-off, using the strange powers of their race that Hector has tried and failed to catalog in his notes.
Hector has a scimitar on one hip and his forging hammer on the other, but so far, he's drawn neither. Vampire doesn't necessarily equal 'enemy' in his head, though he's certainly prepared to arm himself if needed. One doesn't survive among the vampire pirate court by being trusting.]
You've gone through quite a lot of trouble to entomb yourself at sea. Were you hoping to avoid attention?
[It seems like perhaps this golden sleeping man was, but he has to know that a giant ghostly ship would pique the curiosity of every sailor on the seas, right?]
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He ignores the weapons on Hector, seeing neither as a true threat. The hammer is curious, oh yes, but he'll say nothing. Make Hector reveal himself rather than have an interrogation.]
I was, yes. [And until now, he has managed.] What year is it?
[For now, he's pleasant.]
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[Hmm, that’s a telling question.]
1650.
[He studies the figure for any clues to his time frame, but with no dated articles of clothing and the typical anachronism of the vampire’s ship, Hector can’t get a read. He’s uncomfortably aware that he’s the only thing in this room with a pulse, and this vampire could be very, very hungry.
He takes another step back.]
Did you oversleep?
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[The vampire does nothing more than close his eyes, take a deep breath, and then open his eyes again. Then all he does is walk right back over to the coffin, retrieving the shirt and coat in there.]
I slept the appropriate amount of time, it seems, as my ship's defenses are clearly no longer functioning as they should.
[He shrugs the shirt on with ease.]
Why are you here, captain?
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What makes you think they're not functioning?
[He is one of Dracula's pirate captains, and he will not be dismissed like some schoolboy wandering into a meeting of his elders. The bastard is turning his back to Hector and causally dressing, as if Hector be no threat at all!]
I came to bring the Ghost Ship back to my lord's fleet.
[A bold declaration, but Hector's temper is rising and his pride outweighs his good sense.]
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[Alucard looks more thoughtful than genuinely concerned by this security blip, but that changes in a hot second. Hector's goal? That's not allowed.
So he turns to Hector with an all too calm face. His correction is simple. Firm. Unyielding.]
No. You will do no such thing.
[Yet no part of Alucard moves to attack. The sword remains sheathed.]
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And why not? [He crosses his arms and tilts his chin up in stubbornness.] This ship must have been stolen from Lord Dracula. No one else can make vessels such as these. And it's not like you're even making real use of it. You can go sleep somewhere else if you don't wish to be brought before him.
[Hector's really a pretty terrible pirate. He's not included to pillage or rape, and taking a prisoner is entirely too much work when he could let someone go. If it wasn't for his necromancy, he'd be entirely unsuited for Dracula's pirate ranks.]
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I am making no advanced use of it because I needed the peace and quiet to heal. I can also tell you that should you attempt to take this ship or myself before him, you'll bring more disapproval down upon your head than I believe you anticipate. My father likely has ordered this vessel left be.
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...what?...
[He hears Dracula's voice in his memories, telling him just that. 'Forget the Ghost Ship, Hector. Pay it no mind.'.]
Your father...
[There are rumors of that falling out, whispers that choke into terrified silence at the Lord Dracula's approach, sea shanties of a great battle that the pirates only dare to sing of when they are blind-drunk on rum and feeling defiant. That little family squabble happened well before Hector's time, so much so that Hector wasn't sure if the legendary 'Alucard' actually existed, or if he was just a poetic device invented as a foil for the Demon Lord of the Seas.
Well, here is is, and if he doesn't kill Hector for this, Lord Dracula will.]
Well, fuck me. [He exclaims. He needs to sit down. A plague of scurvy on this damned Vampire Lordling for not having so pedestrian a thing as a chair or a bench on his damned ship. There's a voice in his head, roaring with laughter at his misfortune, and it sounds the way he imagines Isaac would sound, if the suck-up bastard was capable of laughing.]
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[Alucard remembers all of that horrid night. Cannons against cannons, undead things against undead things and...retreat. Because Alucard needed to live and fight again. Of the ships he had, only this one survived. The one he once jokingly called the coffin ship due to the fact it held a bed that he never wanted to use, and so it became a supply ship for the other two in his tiny fleet instead.
The entire ship thing in the first place, it was a way to laugh in defiance of the old tales of how vampires could not cross running water. To have a ship's hold was to have a safe guard against sun, so long as a crew of thralls or otherwise extremely willing mortal men and women saw the opportunity as one worth taking. Somehow it all evolved into a new vampire society (his mother had once said vampirate and Dracula looked pained for days). One that let mortals in, just a little, and so had to allow for mortal needs. Then his mother had waltzed into his father's life, and all went well until she was accused of a combination of witchcraft and piracy. A first, of sorts. The scourge of humanity would be removed from the seas first, unable to warn land dwellers of attacks, and then the whole of man wold be removed. In time.]
Leave. You never found this ship.
[He shouldn't let Hector go. But it's a bigger risk to kill him and alert Dracula that his son is awake.]
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[It's stupid and stubborn, pretending as if the hardest part of the story to swallow is not the reappearance of the seemingly long-dead son of the immortal pirate vampire lord, but the hair color. Alucard takes after his mother, obviously. Hector's caught glimpses of her portrait in Dracula's cabin before.
Hector paces, turn between the door and the vampire...no, dhampir, he supposes. He should leave. The son had nearly rivaled the father, and Hector knows Dracula's power far outmatches his own.
...but he snuck away, sailing out under cover of darkness, and he can't come back without making some sort of accounting for his disappearance.]
No. I'm not returning empty-handed.
[Dracula has been closer to a patron than a captain to him at times, but whatever reserved affection he has for his human admiral, Hector can't imagine it will extend to forgiving him an act of mutiny.]
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[He's almost all of Lisa with none of his father's looks. Alucard has always been aware of it, and he has wondered for some time if it was the reason his father didn't kill him outright. Some kind of sad attempt to keep one shred of Lisa Tepes alive in the world.
Or maybe fear of reprisal from her spirit.
As Hector goes towards the door, Alucard quietly closes up the coffin lid, and then walks to where the machinery and mechanisms of the blood controls are so that he can adjust them. They'll be enough food for now, and then he will have to make port. The ship needs a name. The Demeter perhaps.
But then Hector declares that he won't leave without something, and Alucard stiffens.]
Then attack some nearby vessel and for those aboard it to sink and be set adrift on lifeboats across the sea. There is naught on this ship.
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Why should I punish some other ship when my target—
[He cuts himself off. Hector really is a terrible pirate. He has no love for people, but he doesn’t hate them. He can justify striking out at strategic vessels to se Lord Dracula’s campaign furthered, but blindly attacking the first ship he sees? There is no cause for it.
He should know better than to say that, though.]
My lord will have his prize.
[He says, voice flat and resolute. As long as he has his compass, built with a spirit of navigation houses within it to guide the needle, he can lead Dracula back to this place.
He stalks to the door. The crewman begin to stir, parting for Hector before falling in behind him. As much as he hates to use them this way, they are a shield between himself and the dhampir as he begins his retreat.]
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[Alucard knows his father. Alucard knows the company his father keeps. It was a bad plan.]
I was set here and permitted to remain for a reason. Consider that before you do something foolish.
[Alucard knows that in the next few moments, he will have to react. Defend himself. But before that happens, it feels only proper to give Hector a chance to back down off this ledge. He seems ill suited for the work that's about to come.
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Hector stops and turns to face Alucard.]
Had this ship been empty, I would have sailed it back to my lord's fleet so that he would know once and for all that it would no longer plague his waters. Then his damned admirals would stop their whispering and serve him properly.
[The Ghost Ship is a symbol of chaos, of a force Dracula does not and cannot control. Bringing it to the fleet would reassert Dracula's absolute dominion over the seas.
And then his lord will be proud of Hector.]I think it must have been many years since that decision was made. I'll leave it to my lord as to whether it still stands.
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[Alucard steps away from the machinery, and now his face is firm and grim. He doesn't like this. To be awakened and already deal with impossible choices, he...he can't. Not really.]
For if the fight favors me, then I must restrain you and your absence will attract my father's attention. Should it go for you, then I am most certaintly going to my death. I beg that you consider the fact that in all the time since that inital decision was made, this place was left be.
[He cannot imagine a world where Dracula will have joy in seeing his son again.]
No part of me is surprised that he is ruling over a squabbling armada. Vampires have always been like that, and bad at being a cohesive group.
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If you won, you could kill me and leave my ship to be found in pieces. There are rogue pirates or hunters' ships who could be blamed for it.
[Hector doesn't like that option, but he needs to know why Alucard isn't considering it. Does he truly just want to be left alone to keep floating around in his empty ship?]
Your father is the only one who can unite them. If they had no leader, they would kill without restraint.
[Hector has no love for any of the other vampires in Dracula's fleet. It is for Dracula alone he stays with them.]
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[Death is something he wants to avoid if at all possible right now. Hector's made it inevitable, unless he decides to retreat and at least give Alucard a window to at least acquire a small crew.]
So they would kill for themselves, instead of in my mother's name. The only reason they have ever stayed in line is because of my father's power, and as you have made clear, that is already on the decline. Propping him up just....gives them time to pretend to be clever about rebelling.
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He also has little to say in the face of Alucard's frank assessment of the political situation. He's had the same thoughts, privately. Dracula has the tiger by the tail, and he can't let go, and is showing himself less and less inclined to keep a firm hold.]
He... [It's hard to lie to the man's son, who knows him better than Hector could ever hope to. He can't pretend that the situation is not as it is.] ...he has the capacity for greatness. I thought, if I could help him remember that, it might reawaken in him. The rest of the vampires are bloodthirsty sociopaths, but Dracula is different.
[The vampire who had found Hector and mentored him was still there, beneath the depression and ennui. Hector just had not found the catalyst yet to restore him. He had hoped that by removing the Ghost Ship and reaffirming Dracula's complete dominion over the seas, his lord would remember the man he'd once been.]
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[A single word, and deep, deep sorrow in it. Alucard has no joy in anything he is about to say, and in truth, every word Hector has uttered has done naught but pain him. His father's grief has swallowed him hole, and madness has worn everything else away.]
Going by everything you have said, he is still consumed by grief and is inclined to continue to sink into it, until the quicksand fully engulfs him and he finally ends himself in whatever stupid blaze of glory he thinks will show the world how wrong they were to murder my mother.
[His father may very well be irrecoverable. But Alucard had thought that far too early on in this disaster.]
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[He's angry on his lord's behalf. Angry that his master's own son has given up on him. It's hypocritical. Hector has wondered, during some of the bloodier battles he's fought on Dracula's behalf, whether it wouldn't be better for Hector to set sail for the sunset with his pets, to find a place beyond Dracula's reach to flee to. But he hasn't. He'd held on to hope that reason will triumph over grief.]
There has to be a way to quell his wrath. I thought it might be this ship, but that's obviously wrong. You will do nothing for him.
[Hector's brain can't fathom an immeasurable grief. There must be an end to it, some marker they will reach when they present him the right prize or kill the right enemy, that will finally fill the depths and let him move on. It's only logical. Everything on this world is finite, and so this must be too. All beings have the innate drive for survival hardwired in, and Dracula cannot take his revenge so far as to actually destroy himself...right?]
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[He had a vague hope that his father's destruction might've happened when he woke though. Since that hasn't come to pass, the question of what is the plan? now hangs heavy overhead. Alucard has no answer, and oh, oh he hates that so very much.]
My father died along with my mother in all the ways that could ever matter. Have you seen any sliver of the man you met in all the time you have been serving in his war and carrying out his will?
[It's a genuine question. He wants to have an answer of yes. Examples. Anything. Anything that means that his father shouldn't be put out of his misery. His eyes rest on Hector with an intensity that probably is not comforting, but oh, oh he doesn't care.]
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None of that curiosity or passion for the supernatural arts, none of the refined grace or the assurance of a better future is there within Dracula anymore. Alucard claimed him a dead man, and Hector can't refute it.]
...
...you think he is truly gone beyond all recall?
[Hector is a necromancer, and he can bring back a semblance of life to the dead. But he can't bring back the vibrancy, the personality, of the human corpses who serve him, not the way he can with a newly dead animal. If Dracula is like that, like one of his undead shell of a crewman...
...then everything Hector has staked his life on is a lie, and he has nothing. He considered escape before, but only in the vaguest sense before putting the thought aside. He doesn't even know if he could leave if he wanted to. Dracula cared for little now but for vengeance, and the defection of a captain would bring down his wrath.
The color is gone from Hector's face, the harsh truths Alucard has forced him to face shaking him to the core.]
No, I need to...
[He makes for the door. He needs to think, to reason with himself without some dhampir whispering in his ear. Who knows what thrall he might be under right now?]
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[But oh, Hector's response is telling. Alucard lets out a soft noise that's a muted sigh, aware that his question? That's the answer. His father is far worse off than when Alucard entered his coffin to recover and rest.
The hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword loosens, then falls to Alucard's side. Whatever threat Hector presented physically is gone, dashed against the rocks of horrible thoughts and bitter truths. There is no joy in bringing a person down like this, and from Hector's body language, this must be some time coming.
Hector leaving is good. A relief. But.]
And what shall you say to anyone who asks about your voyage?
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[Who was there to trust? Hector isn’t giving to boasting, and he confides to no one human.
The fight is gone out of both of them, so there’s no point in hiding the fact any more.]
When I return, [If I return] I can claim I was seeking out a new specimen. It’s not the first time my work has taken me away suddenly.
[Hector wears the hat and waist sash well, but in all other respects, he’s a terrible pirate. He was considered lost at sea for a week once when he disappeared in a little skiff, chasing after a rare sea bird he’d caught sight of. The other captains had been disgusted, though Dracula had waved it off. At the time, Hector had attributed it to his lord’s tacit approval of his scientific ventures. Now, he sees it was simple indifference.]
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[Incredibly stupid, if Alucard's being very honest. But the tension has been diffused, and in the end, isn't that the most important part?]
There are islands east of this area that have unique turtle populations. That should be sufficient.
[How Alucard knows that isn't clear, not if he's been asleep for as long as he has. The dhampir doesn't seem keen to share that, but he is walking towards Hector. Towards and then past, as there is only one set of stairs here.]
If I am found within several days by any of my father's fleet, I will be holding you accountable.
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We are pirates, not school children. I don't make an account of every movement I make. I'd be more likely ambushed by my own allies as helped by them, if they knew my every step.
[Not even the promise of new turtles can distract him, although he does love a good turtle. They are so long lived, little relics of times gone past, with their whole world carried upon their back. Maybe he will sail east...]
I'll not be to blame if they do. If I found you, others could too. It's not as though this ship is inconspicuous, and I wasn't the only one piqued by the rumors.
[Maybe blame yourself for having such an overdramatic ghost ship, Alucard.]
How far east?
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[It just seems like a great way to say, escape, if need be. But Alucard doesn't say any more than that. Hector is an adult who can make his own choices, just as Alucard is free to side eye them with concern.]
Oh? Who else's ears perked?
[Look. Look. Over dramatics is an inherited trait Hector. You've met Dracula. Slowly but surely, Alucard starts his way up the steps.]
Twenty to thirty odd miles.
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What, do you want names? Are you familiar with your father's admirals?
[Hector honestly has no idea what Alucard knows. He was gone before Hector arrived, and nobody is willing to speak plainly about what happened. He hadn't even been certain that Dracula had a son.]
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[The vampires of the Americas? Now those are strangers, especially as more seem to enter those ranks every year. Alucard doesn't say that though, and he's careful as he hits the boat's middle deck. Now, now he can truly smell the salty air thanks to grates that also let the moon shine down in. Alucard passes directly underneath one of them, then stands there, soaking in the little light there is.
He is awake. That is worth taking a moment to acknowledge.]
Why do I hear barking?
[Vampire ears can pick up an awful lot.]
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....Godbrand would only find you with blind luck, but Carmilla, you should keep an eye out for....
[Hope Alucard woke up from his slumber ready for some vampire court gossip. He pauses when they reach the deck and Alucard hears the yipping of his dog.]
Fuck. If Cesar's awake, he's going to whine endlessly tomorrow.
[He loves the little dog, but it's hard to sail with him underfoot, begging for attention the way he's wont to do when he stays up too late.]
Ignore him. If he catches wind of someone new, you'll rile him up even more.
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[Also, Godbrand Love Boats. It was inevitable that he join the madness, even if he wasn't invited.
Alucard clicks his tongue at Carmilla's name. He's never met her in person, only by reputation, and that has been more than enough. She'd see Alucard for the threat he is, and that means he must move faster. He'd ask additional questions, but it seems that a tiny dog has killed all hope in that department.]
I'm afraid I can't quite control the wind and thus if he's likely to catch my scent. Or if he'll recognize it as vampire or something else....
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Damn it. It won’t matter what you are. So long as you have a hand to scratch, he’ll beg. He’s even tried to jump into your father’s lap before.
[He waves a hand and the lumbering crew make their way from the stairs to the rail where their rope still hangs. It’s always an awkward process, ferrying from one ship to another. Vampires bypass it with flight, but Hector is stuck doing it the mortal way.]
I’ve got to go calm him or there will be no peace for anyone. Good night.
[He says it as a farewell as he heads to the railing after his men. Because of course Alucard will be satisfied with that and won’t have any desire to see the dog, right? Hector is used to having to shoo Cesar away from vampires who would ignore him at best and kick at him at worst.]
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Those are thoughts best left unsaid, save for the mental image of a dog attempting to leap into Dracula's lap. There's a soft noise that might be a laugh at such an attempt, and...
...he wants to see the dog, God help him.]
Would it help calm him down if he saw who it was and then there's no more fussing to be had?
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Well, he can't actually judge, because if he heard a dog, he would also insist on seeing it. That is the life he lives.]
It won't work like that, but at this point, you may as well come and see him.
[He hops over the rail and starts the climb down to the boat. With his focus on reaching his anchored vessel, he pays no attention to the fog-covered horizon.]
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Alucard actually follows Hector down like a human, rather than just floating. It seems fair, and he doesn't want to scare the dog. Who--
--well, once Alucard sees the dog, he understands entirely. Not just what Hector really is in his father'e estimation, but why a dog might be so needy. He's a tiny thing, and they have tendencies at that size.]
Does he have a certain approach that's preferred when meeting strangers?
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It's always like this. Very few of my associates are willing to indulge him.
[So Hector keeps him close. The little pug snorts in Hector's direction, but spins around and waits for the newcomer to reach him and stoop to pet him. Hector sighs.]
Cesar, meet the son of Dracula.
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I am commonly known on the seas as Alucard. It's...perhaps not wise to name me by my parentage at the moment.
[Because Alucard is so subtle.
But the dhampir is at least gentle with Cesar, not rushing the pup along.]
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Your secret is safe with little Cesar.
[They are in the middle of the ocean. Hector doesn't know who Alucard expects will overhear them.
Cesar, for his part, hops and yips and rolls over to present his tummy to the pale hand. Hector watches his pet fondly. Alucard is treating him gently, in spite of the obvious signs of reanimation.]
Do you eat...or drink? [If the dhampir is here petting his dog, Hector might as well be a good host.]
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And while they may be in the middle of the ocean, the wind will always carry. The ship could have it's spies. Alucard doesn't intend to invite more attention than he can manage. What he does intend to invite is Cesar's affection, and he goes for that belly rub with a very full gusto.]
Thank you for the hospitality, but I am satisfied in both areas. [Well, he's good on blood. The rest he'd rather take care of himself.]
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There may or may not be the vague shape of a ship materializing out of the fog, no big deal. What's more important is the little stubby tail that is twitching as Alucard rubs.]
If you hold out your hand, he will shake it.
[He's proud of the few tricks Cesar has managed.]
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Alucard doe as he's told, because that's always a good trick. But more than that, there's a sense that he's lingering too long.]
Once, and then I shall have to take my leave back to my own ship.
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Cesar snorts, then rolls over and sits, hamming up his performance. He gives his head a little toss, then carefully raises a paw (the flesh one, Hector had to train him to use only that one) to place in Alucard's. Cesar's tongue lolls, and he looks expectantly from dhampir to human, unsure from which his treat will come, but so assured that it will come from someone.
Hector reaches into his pocket for a little bit of dried meat to toss him.]
Well done. [A throaty voice purrs as a shape rises from the water and comes to hover over the deck.] Did you teach him that, Hector? Such a clever boy. Go on, give him his treat.
[Carmilla steps out, a white shape from the billowing white fog.]
You did quite a clever trick yourself, Hector, finding the Ghost Ship all by yourself. I wonder what treat I'll give you... [She smiles with her fangs.
Hector stumbles backwards, trying to put more distance between himself and her. Cesar's treat drops onto the deck, and Cesar huffs.]
Did you follow me here? [He hisses. That bitch!]
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There is a raw, furious hiss from Alucard, and without lifting a finger, his sword moves out of it's sheath and goes right for Carmilla's throat.
It's a cheap tactic. With a horrible burst of vampire speed, Alucard has leaped off Hector's boat entirely, and is relying on his own flight abilities to get back to his ship.
He can't fight. This is about retreat, and lasting until dawn.]
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A great weapon I looked for, and a great weapon I've found.
[Her crew has surrounded the ship, undead thralls in boats and lesser vampires hovering or jumping to pursue Alucard. Some are already making for the ghost ship.
Hector's hand goes for his hammer, but he hesitates, trying to judge the right moment. The second he strikes out, there is no going back, and this close, surrounded by this many of Carmilla's loyal minions as well as the vampiress herself, he has to make it count.
Carmilla surges forward, but not overboard after Alucard. Not yet. She goes to Cesar, who is sniffing out the dropped treat, oblivious to the danger around him. In a blur of motion too fast to track, the pup is in Carmilla's arms.]
Behave, pet. [She says, not to Cesar. Hector stares at her with undisguised hatred, but drops his hand. Damn it. Damn it!
Smirking, she flies in pursuit of Alucard, carrying in her clawed hands the one piece of leverage that would actually serve to keep Hector at bay.]
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But he is the Son of Dracula. That comes with far greater power than most of them can ever dream of having, and more than one foe finds themselves buried in the water.
Alucard doesn't turn until he's managed to reach his own ship. Oh yes, there are more fiends aboard now, but this is his ship and that deserves defense.
Before he can communicate to the thing (for he can communicate with it to a degree for basic defenses), his eyes flash back to Hector's ship. Carmilla...ah. She has a hostage, and that is a cruel thing. But the part of Alucard that isn't certain that this was't intended? He thinks good. He then thinks fog and soon that billows forth from all around the ghost ship.]
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In the spare time between pirate excursions and his little science field trips, Hector fills his time with tinkering. The vampires all know he likes to dabble. They look to Isaac for reliable forged creatures in bulk; Hector is the one to ask for something unique, a bespoke horror.
What he has tried to keep under wraps are the creatures he has designed and given to no one else. He likes to have an ace up his sleeve, so to speak. One of them is below deck, not yet animated to keep his ‘allies’ from sensing it. Another is...below.
He raises his hammer and makes a swinging motion. The head of the weapon makes contact with nothing, but the clear ringing of a strike fills the air. The darkened bulkhead glows with a blue light.
Hector is getting his damn dog back.
Carmilla and her minions close in on Alucard. Carmilla has no compunction about sending her crew to their deaths. They are chess pawns, meant to be sacrificed.
The boats of undead paddle forth. Some lose their way in the enchanted mist, but the ones that reach the hull use weapons or claws to begin tearing say it.
The vampires are not driven by sight. Scent can lead them to their quarry.]
Dear Alucard, why do you run? Don’t you know how much your father misses you?
[It’s a clear taunt. Why wander through the mist for a quarry when they can be enticed to come to you?]
Come out, come out, wherever you are. It’s time to go home, little boy.
[Her voice and Cesar’s little whimpers are near, from somewhere on deck.]
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Carmilla's taunts deserve no response. She's a thing that thrives on cruelty, and that has always been a known within the family. More than that, she is a threat in this moment and Alucard will not surrender to anyone or anything. It is cruel to Cesar, yes, but in this moment, Alucard's concern is only for his continued existence.
He makes it to the wheel. There are injuries upon him, but they are healing, and once both of the dhampir's hands are upon that wheel, the ship hums to life. Flags unfurl with no crew. The fog scatters for the time being, forcing everyone's whereabouts to be revealed.
Alucard doesn't know if Hector's coming aboard. He can't know, and he can't wait either. The sails have caught wind, and he must leave.]
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Hector, meanwhile, is making his way to Alucard's ship. His jolly boat is too slow, but that's fine. That's not what he's using. He glides above the waves, one hand firmly grasping the leg of his freshest <a href="https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/castlevania/images/5/59/Cod_02.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110430152856</a>forged creation</a>. It's not true flight- he's too heavy for that- but having leapt from his ship's mast, he has the height for his bird familiar to coast with him to the Ghost Ship. He lands on the deck, releasing the bird's clawed foot and jogging a few steps until his momentum dies. Then he looks around. There are dead minions, and some injured and writhing. More shapes are closing in, crawling up the sides and drawing closer. One of Carmilla's vampirates has Cesar held by the scruff, having been handed the hostage under the cover of mist to free his captain's hands. Carmilla is attacking Alucard, surely intent on subduing him and bringing him back with her to use as a weapon in her campaign for dominance in the courts. Hector has not, as of yet, done anything that will irrevocably mark him as a traitor. He could do nothing, wait, and collect his dog when Carmilla finishes here. With the greater prize of Dracula's son won, the pup would be of no more concern to her. Except that Alucard was a decent fellow to him and his dog, and told him where to find turtles. Carmilla, on the other hand, is a right bitch, and she stole his dog.]</small> Carmilla! <small>[He shouts. His hammer glows a pale blue. The bird swoops from the sky, this time trained at the arm of the pirate holding Cesar. Beyond the circle of mist around the ship, something begins to creak and groan. Wood splinters and cracks. It's the unmistakable death groans of a ship, and its coming from the direction of Carmilla's vessel. The Question: Did Hector secretly forge himself a Kraken? The Answer: He is a necromancer pirate. He absolutely forged himself a Kraken.]</small>
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It means they both miss Hector's approach. That he's even on the ship, because trying to beat each other to a pulp is far more important. It continues until Carmilla's name is called out, and....
...there's a moment of very quiet tension where both vampire and dhampir stop. Look up. And stare at the fact that Hector forged himself a fucking Kraken.
And in that shocked moment, the two voice one thought:]
What the fuck?
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[Hector's dramatic entrance is ruined by the lurching of the ship throwing everything into chaos. He stumbles too, knees weak with the giddy triumph of his Kraken tearing through Carmilla's ship in the distance. She is still a work in progress, the labor of nearly a year of secret forging, and this is her first trial.
His breath hitches, and comes out in a strangled laugh. He has officially rebelled and now any vampire that doesn't want to kill him on sight for his betrayal is going to hunt him to the ends of the earth, wanting a Kraken of their own, and he is so fucked.]
Shouldn't have touched my dog, you cur....
[His words would probably have more bite behind them if he didn't sound half-hysterical.
His bony devil-bird tears at its target vampire with beak and talons until it drops the hostage dog. Cesar makes a mad scramble towards Hector with his stubby legs.
Carmilla refrains from waxing poetic about the various ways she is going to make Hector pay for destroying her ship. She is, above all else, ruthlessly calculating, and in the middle of a fight is not the time for it. She now has two targets: the Son of Dracula and the Devil Forgemaster. If she can only take one, she will come for the other later.
Right now, Alucard is the one she is entangled with, and the one who will be harder to track should he escape. Hector, the idiot human, she is sure she could find again.
She turns all of her rage and fury to her opponent, testing his strength against hers. She will retreat if she no longer has the advantage, but not a moment before she has to if there is a possibility of victory.
Hector, drained from maintaining concentration on the Kraken, leaves Carmilla to Alucard for now. He is a decent fighter, for a human, but that does not mean he is an equal to either of the two of them without his forged creatures by his side. There are plenty of other foes that he is better matched to face, and he raises his hammer and calls to his bird devil as he moves toward the nearest of them to try to even the playing field a little.]
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Now isn't the time for caution though. Now is a time of madness, with Hector sending Carmilla's ship to the bottom of the ocean, with other forged creatures tearing at Carmilla, and a tiny little dog running to it's master.
And yet it is Alucard who is pursued. He has a scant moment to employ what autopilot controls he can with the ship, and then Carmilla has the full of his attention. Her attack is met with snarls and fury, his sword in hand and the two of them in the air.
He needs help. He needs some way to at least distract her, to have a moment's advantage, to do anything. The sword can only do so much, and the hits that Carmilla does land sends Alucard reeling. The worst is the moment she flings him against the mast, then pounces upon him to drive his head into the deck of the ship several times over. Alucard still gets up, but it takes effort. Effort Carmilla sees, and knows that she need only wait him out.]
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His plan falls apart when Alucard is thrown against the mast. Fuck but Hector was hoping he'd be Carmilla's equal in battle.
His hammer flames up again, and the force of his concentration has even his eyes glowing blue. The ship is rocked by a wave out of sync with the ocean's rhythm. A tentacle breaches the surface, groping upward until it finds the ship's rails.]
You've nowhere to run, Carmilla. ['You do, see that you do, take the damn bait, Carmilla,' he begs silently. If this bluff doesn't work....]
I will hunt you down, boy. [She hisses, making her decision. Alucard and Hector alone were within her power to crush, but this new arrival is an large and terrifying unknown. Carmilla takes risks, but only calculated ones.
And she does still have somewhere to run. Her ship is gone, but it's not the only one within range. Hector's vessel is still anchored within the mist, guarded now only by a few undead seaman, easily disposed of.
She delivers one final smack at Alucard, then takes a running leap off of the side of the ship, flying in the direction of Hector's boat. Her vampire minions follow, abandoning the forged creatures of their ranks who cannot fly.
The flame dies away from Hector, and his knees buckle beneath him. The single tentacle unwraps from the mast and sinks back down into the water.]
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It's a shameful loss, Hector's ship. Certainly one Hector didn't anticipate, and now he's locked in with Alucard for as long as the two can survive. Alucard can only manage to strike down those horrible minions who try to leave with her, and they are few in number.
Hector's on the deck. Alucard can only hiss with a cold fury:]
Get up. You're taking one of my life boats and you are beating her back to my father's side before she can share her version of what has happened here.
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Are you mad? If I return, in your lifeboat no less, he'll see through it in a heartbeat. I'll be keelhauled and then drained. Godbrand calls it 'brining'. Says it makes the blood taste pickled. They consider it a delicacy.
[He's rambling, he's well aware of the fact. Maybe this is a nightmare and he'll wake up from it soon.]
I attacked one of Dracula's vampire admirals. I can't go back after that. Weren't you running? We should do that.
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[Alucard's eyes flash to something redder. Something closer to his father's.]
Yes, the motors on my lifeboats will give my presence away. Fine. Let him know I am awake, he'll find it out soon. Get there before her and spin the story. She was hunting me, and you, in doing your duty as a general under his command, prevented her from disobeying his express orders in leaving this boat be. You aren't sure if I woke or not, there was too much chaos.
She bears the blame for when I do wake. She'll come and attack me all the same, let her mean it and let her rage make her sloppy.
Who is he more likely to believe, Hector? You or her?
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[But all the resistance is gone out of Hector. It's a hopeless situation. He has no ship, and he can't hope to take Alucard's. Alucard will not let him stay, and even if he took the lifeboat and made to escape, he'd never be able to outrun the pursuit that will surely follow.
It seems that his life is always destined to bring him back to Dracula's court for lack of choice. He never expected to live long among the vampires. Resignation settles into his bones.
It is not as though Alucard owes him anything. What concern of his is Hector's fate?
He pushes himself to his feet. If he has nothing else, he'll have his pride to the end.]
Fine. Launch the lifeboat. [Whatever slim chance Alucard seems to think they have whittles down further the longer he delays.]
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[Alucard needs to get moving. His patience is gone, and there are two parts of him warring for dominance right now: the part that is calm, rational, and ready to deal with the situation and the other part that is absolutely terrified of how his father will react right now.
There's such visible relief when Hector says fine. He nearly trips over himself getting over to the life boat, and he's quick to not only gesture Hector over, but to explain the navigational features that will bring him back to Dracula's side. He speaks hurriedly, betraying how truly rattled he is by what is going to happen next.]
Any other questions?
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He lowers himself and Cesar into the boat; his devil-bird circles above like a harbinger of his approaching doom. The Kraken has withdraw into the depths, safer than the rest of them by far.]
I’m not going to look which direction you sail off to. I’ll assume it’s south.
[That’s the best he can do by way of giving Alucard a head start. The boat is lowered into the water and Hector mimics the control mechanisms Alucard had demonstrated. No ‘goodbyes’ or ‘good lucks’, just a swift departure without looking back.]
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His path does not cross Hector's until a fortnight later. The first day, he docked the boat and took o supplies, meeting one of those wandering crew members who hops from ship to ship, the blue of their (hers, she clarifies later) coat signifying an old wold connection to the Speakers. She knows the legends of his ship, other legends connected to it, but Alucard refuses to let her come aboard. They part ways at the end of the day, the Speaker muttering under her breath about other parts of the story that need to be tracked down.
Carmilla engages him twice more in the two weeks. Every time, Alucard evades capture, and the only reason Carmilla manages to take him prisoner and sink the ship the third time is due only to numbers. Alucard is a single dhampir. Three fully functioning ship with appropriate crew and then some? It would always be his ruin.
The worst part of capture is not sitting chained in a cell, silver burning into his wrists and ankles, starved of sunlight and barely given appropriate food for man or vampire. It is the total disinterest by his father. There is no rage, hardly a blink of the eye. Or maybe there is, and Carmilla is simply not permitted to see it. Alucard can't say. The only satisfaction he takes is how Carmilla is dismissed and given no reward for her effort. That she doesn't explode in fury on the spot feels like an accomplishment of some sort for her.
Alucard has mastered silence though as vampire after vampire has walked by his horrible little cell. Carmilla's gloating, Godbrand's....Godbrand-ness, and even Isaac's presence have all gotten the horrible stare of silence from Alucard. When the door opens yet again, he expects to see Carmilla's face.
Instead, it's the click-click-click of little doggy paws.
Somehow? That's a million times worse.]
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Inwardly, he is close to turning and pretending he never had this idea. It's a terrible, terrible plan.
He has no choice, though. He saw the indifference of his lord to his own son. He knows the conditions of the cells. Alucard doesn't deserve that.
...and Dracula, a remnant of his former self, would not have wanted that. For the sake of the man he'd once been, Hector must intervene. No one will accuse him of loyalty, but he owes Lord Dracula that much.
It's about a quarter hour to sunrise. The vampires are retreating to their inner chambers, but not yet on high alert the way they get if they hear movement around them when the sun is up.
Hector has been in his forge all the night, both to avoid giving Carmilla a chance for retaliation and to present the illusion of normalcy. It's not unlike him to be wandering so late...early...after a night of work, and he takes the turn through the cells as if on a whim. 'Oh, the son of Dracula is kept within, riiiight. Might as well peek in.'
He swings open the door, acutely aware of the creaking noise it makes. Cesar rushes in and over to the dhampir, but Hector stays further back. His back blocks the little barred window set into the door, hiding from view the little forged gremlin that climbs out of his vest and begins to fiddle with the silver locks.]
Is your homecoming everything you thought it would be?
[He asks, voice pitched to 'taunting'. He hopes it can cover the soft clicks of the gremlin's lock-picking from supernaturally perceptive ears.]
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[Silence.
Alucard was sort of amazed that Hector had managed to get back to the court and survive. Carmilla alone should have killed him, and yet...no. The how and why didn't matter. His plan had worked. Bought Alucard time, and maybe there would be an assist from that Speaker in time. That was what he had told himself, and yet it is Hector who is here, having made a decision.
It wasn't what Alucard was expecting. But it is something that gets a quiet nod of Alucard's head, fully acknowledging what it is that Hector has done. What he is putting at risk. What a relief it is to be rid of the silver that has eaten at his flesh.]
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And so until she had gone off to chase Alucard, Hector had kept very close to Dracula. She's managed to corner him below deck once, but she'd been careful to keep her marks concealed. His back and chest are a patchwork of deep nail gouges and purpling bruises. It was a preview of the torture to come, once she held power.
Hector doesn't plan on sticking around long enough to see that come to pass.]
You're a stunning conversationalist. I can't imagine why they haven't been back for another round.
[One manacle pops open, then the other. Hector holds out a palm, a gesture for Adrian to stay still. He takes a flask from his belt and tosses it in Alucard's direction. He's careful not to move from his position blocking the window, in case anyone walks by. The gremlin tucks itself back into the folds of his clothing when the last lock is picked.]
You caused such trouble for the lady admiral, destroying her ship. She commandeered mine, and I've had to procure a new one. A less upstanding man than myself would be loath to forgive that.
[It's the kind of drivel the vampires love to spit out before they close in to break fingers or bite out jugulars. He trusts Alucard to pick up on his meaning. 'I have a ship.' He can't speak plainly here, and once they make their move, there will be little time, and even less room for error.]
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He catches the flask, opening it carefully once there is skin around his wrists again. The silver has worn down to bone in certain spots, and that? That's painful for vampire, dhampir, and human alike. It's awful, and Alucard knows that this will get worse before it even starts to remotely improve.
With the last lock picked, Alucard floats upward. Just a little. Just to show that he can move and move quietly, for what else can he do? Walking would be agony right now. The dramatic fuck he is, he'll just float behind Hector and pray it will be enough.
He nods once to show Hector he's listening. That he understands.]
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There goes the plan of walking him out of here as a wolf.Well, this is it. He flicks his eyes to Cesar, then to Alucard. If Hector is masterminding this escape, he's going to need his hands free. Alucard will have to be responsible for the dog.
He holds up three fingers, two, one.
A resounding boom rings out on the far end of the prison. Hector waits a beat as guards rush past, and then he shoves the door open. He looks left, in the direction of the explosion, then right. Clear. He moves, heading in the opposite direction. His distraction won't take long for the pirates to figure out, but hopefully it will let them get to their ship and into sunlight.]
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Cesar's more reassuring than anything else right now.
He's ready to go when the boom sounds, hovering right behind Hector. Alucard's a ridiculous sight and he knows it. He also doesn't care, not now. Not when he has to follow Hector because his life depends on it. It does, in fact, depend on it.]
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A guard from further down the way turns the corner and Hector takes his hammer and smashes the man's skull before he can even register the sight of Alucard behind him. They come in pairs, and sure enough, a moment later, the partner rounds the same corner and meets the same brutal fate.
Hector steps over the two of them and keeps moving. One more long stretch of hallway, then a short stairwell, then the guardroom. There are screams from within. The gaibon demon he forged to be the guards' backup, having the firy malfunction he planned.
He pushes through the door outside, and sees the sky with the slight glow just starting to spread in the horizon. They aren't out of danger yet, but the sight is a welcome one.
He breaks into a run. His ship is at the furthest dock, and his forged sailors are already on deck, making her ready to sail.]
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The screams of pained guards give Alucard no pause. The sunrise doesn't either, because there is still enough time for one or two terribly quick vampires to still make good work of himself and Hector.
Once the ship comes into view though, Alucard no longer trails behind Hector. He instead matches pace, neck-in-neck with the forgemaster. His arms tighten around Cesar, making sure the little dog is secured as they reach the last leg of this horrible run for freedom.]
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There’s a skeleton crew (literally) on board, raising the anchor and lowering the sails. None of his pets, other than Cesar. Too many of the vampires would take note if he moved all of them at once. He’s spent the last few days making them as whole as they can be, then releasing them into the wild, one by one, in secret. Cesar’s wholly unprepared to fend for himself, but luckily bringing him along to the forge is a common enough occurrence, so he got away with it.]
You two get below deck.
[He has one final weapon held back in case of pursuit. It was an idea of Carmilla’s, ironically. She’d asked, and he had acquired the necessary components and tested the theory.
If anyone tries to follow, Hector is going to pull out his reanimated bishop and bless the waters.
It’s a mad plan, and with the churning movement of the waves, the blessing will dissipate within minutes, but it will hold back the supernatural long enough for the sun to rise.
So Alucard better get his undead dog safety stowed where no sea spray can reach him.
The sails unfurl and the ship begins, agonizingly slow, to move from the dock.]
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[He moves ahead of Hector at that. Alucard has instruction, he knows where he must go, and there's no need to dwaddle further. This is important, and so he darts ahead at the speed of a vampire, arms still holding Cesar tightly to his chest.
Once on the deck, Alucard slows, looking back to make sure Hector hasn't stumbled. The young man is still running, which fills Aluard with some concern, but it'll have to be what it is. Human speed takes him below deck, and once there, he places Cesar down on the ground.]
Find a good place to hide out.
[Alucard goes to the stairs that lead to the deck itself, just in case he's needed in a pinch.]
I'll make sure your owner doesn't get himself killed.
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He doesn't dare slow down to look behind him, but the hairs on the back of his neck are prickling. They need to go. He needs to act. Alucard had better be out of the water's range.
He raises his hammer, and the bishop rises from where Hector had stowed him behind some crates on the deck of the ship. There is a rope tied around his waist. He steps unwavering into the water and is caught suspended like a buoy in the waves.]
Bless it! [Hector commands, still running at full speed.
The bishop begins to chant in murmured Latin -Hector had replaced his voicebox with a fresher one to ensure he could deliver the blessing- and wisps of steam and power begin to rise off of the water.
Hector reaches the dock and takes a leap for the ship, but something crashes into his back and drags them both into the water. Before he hits the surface, Hector gets a whiff of them. Motherfucking Godbrand.
They fall, entangled, into the water, and Hector feels the arms wrapped around him begin to convulse in agony. Godbrand tears at him with sword and claws, but the cursed flesh is being stripped from his bones by the holy water. Hector thrashes and kicks his way free.
There are other vampires following behind, but they stop short of the dock, hissing, as the wind sends a spray of water at them.
Hector swims for the ship, which is moving further from the dock and picking up speed, praying that none of the vampires had a bow and arrows at hand.]
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bless it Hector commands and Alucard feels his gut wrench just a little. He can guess about the corpse. He can hear the Latin and that's all he has to know. It's fucked up. It's horrifying. It's a hell of a move and he's so relieved Hector is on his side. (Even if he's not in view.)
He's not in view for too long. Alucard swears softly, and heads below deck. He finds a sail cloth, and that'll be waterproof enough for now. Running onto the deck and aware of the risk, he makes quick work of at least releasing a life boat that ought to get to Hector's direction. He's tied a rope to it, so that it can be dragged in and Hector doesn't have to play catch up.]
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The vampires raging on the dock have realized that even if they do not dare cross the blessed water, they can still throw things. A barrage of projectiles -knives and axes, rocks, a goddamn wheel from another ship- sail at him, thrown by supernaturally strong arms, and Hector takes a few hits before he reaches the boat and hoists himself inside. He presses himself against the side of the boat and curls into a ball, shielding himself as best he can from the weapons raining down on him.
The splashes and thunks keep up as the boat is dragged behind the larger ship, until the sun creeps higher and the cursing vampires slink back to their shelters.
They'll regroup once they are safely inside and send out a party of mortal thralls or forged creatures to pursue them, but even that will take some time. Hector and Alucard just need to make the most of this head start.]
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It's hardly enough to spare Hector. Alucard prays there's bandages on board to address that much, and once the sun is high enough in the sky, he starts to actually haul the boat up.
He burns himself a few times. No surprise, the boat and it's rope are now soaked in holy water. But it's more important to get the ship's captain into a position of command, and Alucard knows that. Moreover, he knows he can't take charge, not without Hector's say so.
Once the little lifeboat is hauled up properly, Alucard offers his hand out to Hector to help him disembark.]
Thank you. I...thank you.
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He shoos away Alucard’s proffered hand, still dripping wet.]
Off with you. I can see your fingers sizzling.
[He doesn’t know what to do with the genuine thanks Alucard offers. There is precious little sincerity in Dracula’s court, so Hector isn’t prepared for it.
He climbs out of the boat and sags against the railing. At a silent order, the skeleton crew reels in the bishop...well, the three-quarters that are left of him. Still, in spite of the damage the water has done to him, he could prove useful again. Waste not, want not.]
You said it’d be my fault if you were discovered. I’m just making amends.
[That’s not really it, but that’s the easiest excuse at hand.]
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[It is not fine. It hurts like hell, especially with the burns from the silver still a little too fresh for Alucard's comfort. He doesn't argue with Hector though, because now isn't the time. He withdraws instead, but is careful to give the bishop a wide berth. That's a face he remembers. That's a face he wants to tear apart with his own hands.
The desire to snarl at the figure is kept in check. Alucard's attention returns to Hector.]
Regardless, I am grateful. Your dog is below deck, I think he found himself a suitable hiding place.
[But then Alucard falls silent. Stands there awkwardly. This...no.]
You're the captain. Tell me what you need.
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If Alucard wants to take his orders, Hector will put him to work.]
There's bandages in the Captain's quarters. No one but me ever needs them on my ship. You can decide if yours are worth treating until you regenerate. Mere human I am, I'll need to patch myself up.
[He steps to the wheel and pulls out his compass. They need to outrun Dracula's forces or hide from them, and Hector has a lot of thoughts but few solid ideas.
He calls back over his shoulder.]
We can't rival your father at sea. Have you ever considered moving inland?
[This replacement ship is able to fare the open sea, but it's not so large he couldn't take it up a river and out of Dracula's domain.]
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[Alucard begins to make his way to the captain's quarters, confident with where they're likely located. It's better, actually doing something rather than sitting around. It makes Alucard feel much more productive, at the very least.]
It would depend on where inland. Where are we?
[It's a question to wait on, as Alucard disappears into the quarters. It takes a few moments to find bandages and a few other useful things, and he comes back out on deck with only bandages pressed to his own wrists. It isn't much, just enough to absorb the thin stream of blood that's still trickling out.]
Did you take any injuries to your back or sides?
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[Until they decide, he's focused on using the wind and the ocean currents to just get distance from their starting point.
Getting the ship up to speed, he hands the wheel off to the nearest crewman. He strips out of his still dripping shirt.]
Time to find out. I ache everywhere, but most of that was from Carmilla's friendly pats on the back.
[His torso is a mess of bruises and gashes from claw-like nails. There's a fresh wound slightly under and to the side of his shoulder blade; something bladed that had grazed him but dislodged and sunk into the sea.
The adrenaline from their mad dash to escape is starting to fade, and he's feeling everything now.]
There's also rum back in my room. Best medicine there is for hopeless cases like us.
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[Alucard shakes his head. The Speakers. No, that one Speaker. Maybe she can do something. Anything. She seemed so capable.
Now isn't the time to think about her. Alucard walks to get a better look at Hector's injuries, quiet and trying to be as professional as possible all things considered.]
I want to see how deep things are first. It may be best to have you sitting while I take a look - can you have one of your creatures take the wheel for a time?
[As for rum, Alucad sniffs.]
That is for disinfecting wounds only. We cannot hope to manage our current situation with it anywhere else.
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'If not, then...' what? If you have a plan, out with it. A secret hidden base, or an alliance with the Belmont Armada, or anything that might keep us alive once the sun goes down?
[Hector's already gone past the point he planned for. He'd kind of assumed he wouldn't make it this far, so past Hector hadn't seen a point to trying to predict the circumstances and odds for that slim change of success.
And considering his plan has ended up with him trapped on a ship with the world's only abstinent vampire confiscating his rum, he might actually be dead and in hell at this very moment.]
If I die sober, I'm haunting your pale ass.
[He grumbles, but makes quick work changing the bearings of the ship to begin going north- it's as good a direction as any for now. Hector's the only one who will actually need to eat, so their supplies should get them there. He gives the wheel back to the crewman with orders to maintain full speed.
He sits on the deck, so Alucard will have the sun's light to work with. His quarters would be more comfortable, but dark, and there's no reason to waste a candle or oil for a lamp while the sun is up.]
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[Because outside of Hector's escape plan, it seems like he needs to be the brain of this operation. That's just fine, but it does require time to think.
Thinking happens while Alucard begins to examine Hectors back, cold pale fingers being very, very careful as they ghost over bruises and bleeding marks. One or two get prodded at with a bit more intensity than others, but that's all.]
The good news is none of them seem to need stitches. I'd channel my mother and advise bedrest for a day or two, but that's not an option for us.
[Nothing is, it seems.]
Did you pack any salves or like ointments, or do we only have the rum?
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I'll have to fetch the medicines. It's a new ship, I can't remember exactly where I tucked them away.
[As banged up as he is, he's still in a more fit state than Alucard, who has seen the inside of Dracula's dungeon for more than a week and probably been tortured by the various vampires passing by in the night. If they're to complete this mad escape, they will need to keep moving both day and night. That necessitates Alucard being ready to take the wheel when the sun sets and Hector's human eyes fail him in the pale light the moon offers.]
You should see to yourself. You never told me what you eat, but I have a few days worth of rations below deck, or...
[He holds up his left hand, palm up, baring the wrist.]
...if you need blood to heal, no better time that when I'm getting bandaged up anyways.
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Go do that. A few are probably in strange places for you to reach, so you may as well let me assist in the matter.
[Alucard's quick healing abilities made any sort of vampire torture boring after a while, along with Dracula's command that no one lay a hand on his son without his say so. The most torture was Carmilla's gloating, along with how she dared to comment on how Alucard was never quite a vampire anyway. Calling his mother a breeder was the most reaction she got, and that had nearly gotten Alucard a beating from her - in spite of Dracula's decrees.]
I don't need blood. Real food, perhaps, but I can manage for a day or two more without.
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Turning, eying the various storage places built into the room, he goes to unlatch one of the cabinets set into the wall. The movement strains the cut on his back, and he sucks in a sharp hiss of breath. He gestures for Alucard to retrieve it.]
You should eat something. We're not so hard pressed for supplies we can't spare it, and I can't afford for you to not be at your best. You're going to have to at least direct the crew when I sleep, unless we can find somewhere within a day's journey to hide our ship where your father's fleet can't find it.
[He goes ahead to one of the drawers underneath his bed and gingerly tugs it open so he can grab himself a dry shirt and trousers to change into once he's bandaged.]
If we can get close enough to reach some sort of safe haven by the lifeboat, I could send the ship and the crew on as a decoy. Without my direction, they would only be able to maintain the course I set, but they might be able to buy us a day before they were caught and the ruse exposed.
[Hector has tried to think of plans, but he plays reactively in a game where all of his opponents plan their moves at least three steps in advance.]
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Going into the cabinet, Alucard carefully evaluates the bottles there before picking one up. He recognizes the label, because it's a name for ointment his mother came up with. The handwriting? His father's, and that means it's an old jar. Before everything happened.]
We'll patch you up first then focus on my needs. [He's avoiding himself. It requires too much thinking and more processing than he wants to do right now.] A chair, sit with your front against it's back, or else a stool, please.
[Focusing on medicine is easier. More direct.]
I can direct them as is, I'm not an invalid or that weak. [He's maybe lying to himself with that, but Alucard's proven that he isn't falling over in spite of everything.]
The decoy would work, but I'd rather not sacrifice yet another vessel.
[Moreover:]</small You mentioned the Belmont armada. The last I heard, they were branded pirates and were to be hunted down. Have they survived?
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Your pride isn't worth both of us and my dog dead.
[One of these lives is greatly prioritized over the other two.]
When you're done with this, we will be attending you.
[A mastermind, he is not, but a stubborn bastard? Hector has that one down handily.]
The decoy's not an ideal plan, but it could work in a pinch.
The Belmonts...we thought their forces were all defeated and their remnants scatters to the corners of the world, but... it's another rumor. There was a convoy of vampires headed west, preying along one of the main trade routes. Only one ship of the lot of them made it back to port, and the crew said they saw the vessel that took the others down, and it was flying Belmont colors.
So that either means the Belmonts have returned, or that the crew of that ship had a grudge with the others and took the opportunity to founder their rivals, and sailed back to lay the blame at the feet of a bogeyman.
[
Gossipingtalking about the supposed Belmont revival is at least distracting Hector from Alucard's doctoring, even if it is all idle chatter.]no subject
[There's that snap again. Alucard lets out a huff, unhappy with himself and his behavior but hardly feeling like now is the time to apologize. He just shuts himself up and does the work after that, fingers probably far too cool for this kind of work but knowing that there's no other option. The only good part is that doing the work means he has to be steadier, and that? That helps a great deal.
He listens though. Very carefully, and very considering.]
There would need to be independent corroboration of those rumors. [He says it finally, halfway through getting the bandages onto Hector. It's a steady thing - ointment, bandages, repeat. There's no interest in the blood that has gathered, because right now isn't the correct time to be looking at Hector and thinking "food."]
We need to resupply. That's the appropriate time to confirm or deny what was said, and move from there. If that fleet does exist then...
[Alucard shakes his head.]
I don't know. They may have an advantage. They won't harbor us.
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What, is a bit of food and some basic medical attention going to harm you? Is it akin to sheering Sampson's hair off?
[They aren't a crew, really, but Hector is still the captain, and he has a responsibility to see to it that those on his ship have their needs seen to. He doesn't expect the captain of the empty and ridiculous ghost ship to understand that.]
If the rumors are true, following them would take us across an ocean that your father controls.
[He thinks, drumming his fingers on the back of the chair.]
...I know a witch, living near the coast in the colonies. She might have some sort of charm or talisman that would prevent anyone from scrying for our ship. That's the only way I could see us having a chance of sailing the open waters.
[He stands when Alucard finishes the bandages and pulls his shirt back on.]
Julia is a genuinely good person, and she's kept herself away from the vampire's court. I won't lead them to her door. I will only take us to her if we stay far enough ahead that we can be to her and gone before any of our pursuers know.
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[Alucard is very well aware that he's testing hierarchy here. Maybe in a better mood, he'd care. Maybe if he also wasn't the son of Dracula, he'd care. As it is, he is a prickly ball and well aware that he needs space so he can be a polite enough person to not only deal with Hector, but start to make some plans.]
That he controls for now.
[They're words said with no small amount of darkness in them, because Alucard knows the truth here. His father's reign needs too end. Full stop.]
Do whatever you think would help avoid detection, but I think there's still the risk of leading Carmilla and hers towards the witch. I...would like to avoid any more witch deaths at this point in my life.
[It's tempting to become a wolf right now and just...disappear.]
If there's space below deck, it'd be better if I just rest for a short period of time.
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[Hector's limited patience is gone, so it's probably mutually beneficial to have Alucard out of his sight and resting. If the dhampir flat out refuses Hector's assistance, then so be it.]
Come back up at sunset. I've no use of you 'til then.
[Hector will figure out the current course on his own. A quick resupply from a discrete storehouse, then if he can get a message to Julia, he could have her send something through one of his devils, maybe. That would minimize the risk to her...]
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He sleeps as a wolf too, curled up in a small nest of blankets he assembles for himself from the bunks below deck. It isn't terribly comfy, as the blankets are coarse and itchy, but he's exhausted. No one cares about that once they're exhausted.
He rises with the moon. Well, a little before that, as he works to make himself presentable first. When Alucard returns to the deck, it's with his hair swept up and off his neck in a neat bun, his ankles and wrists healed, and a far greater sense of both decorum and presence than the stressed, terrified, exhausted mess he was earlier.
More to the point: he approaches Hector and the first words out of his mouth are:] I would like to apologize for my earlier behavior. The circumstances made me far more disagreeable than I wanted to be.
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He's running on fumes now (and no rum), and he's not interested in sweetly kissing and making up.]
Yes, no shit.
[Cesar is on deck, too. Hector had sent one of his undead crewman to retrieve him from the hold after Alucard went below deck. He, at least, pads happily over to Alucard to greet him.
Hector tosses a little pouch at Alucard. It smells of ash and blood.]
I've been very careful to forge my crewmen to obey none but me. [A necessary precaution when living among creatures for whom mutiny was the normal means of advancement in the ranks.] When I activate this, they will react to you as if you are me. You will command their complete loyalty.
[It's a dangerous thing to grant another person. Alucard could take control of the ship with what Hector is about to grant him. It's Hector's only choice, though. It would take longer than he's got to fine-tune the order of command in their minds, and he needs Alucard to be deputized to act while Hector speaks. Enemies could fall upon them at any time.]
If you're carrying anything especially flammable, you'll want to remove it before I trigger the enchantment.
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...As you like.
[He isn't going to press that issue then. Cesar will get a proper greeting in time, and for now, Alucard's eyes remain on Hector himself.]
I understand. Unless there is a true emergency, I do not plan on disturbing them from their current tasks.
[That much is a truth. More than that, Alucard hasn't truly commanded a full ship. Not really. Most of his were automated things, much like Dracula's, that responded through buttons and controls rather than man power.]
There is nothing of a flammable nature on my person. Am I allowed to ask after our route and current trajectory?
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Cesar quirks his head and gives a snorty pug sniff at the dhampir. It is not a smell that lingers over Alucard, but the little dog has no other way of perceiving the familiar aura that now surrounds him. The crewmen and forged creatures turn their blue eyes in his direction for a moment, but in the absence of new orders, return to their tasks.
Hector leans against one of the rails, now that the spell is done.]
That depends. I know the strongest vampires have ways of seeing far beyond their reach. Does that extend to listening in as well?
[So far, the sight of just a ship in the water won't give their enemies too much context, but openly discussing their location could be far more detrimental.]
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Alucard pauses at the question. He then nods.]
It could. I know most of those involved with my father's work aren't expert spellcasters, but some of their humans could be. It is a risk. One we should avoid.
[Alucard pauses, then snaps his fingers.]
Something to write with. Use your native tongue.
[Greek, he means.]
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He writes out the following message, in Greek:
Resupply at Free Port
Carmilla, if you read this, fuck you
Verify rumors of the boogeyman
Send message to the witch
Reassess from there
[He translates the name of Freeport into Greek to try to further obfuscate their plans in case someone is watching, and also has a list of multiple coordinates scrawled on the page. The correct one for their destination, he smudges a drop of blue ink beside.
He sends the message back with the zombie and calls up through his door.]
I need to sleep. Wake me at the first sign of pursuit.
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Hector's note doesn't fill him with too much hope. It's the start of a game plan, one that needs much more elaboration. There's no quill to respond with, and Hector cant' see him nod.
All Alucard can do is respond through the door:]
Understood on all accounts.
[The zombie is sent back with the message, so Hector can dispose of it. Alucard demands nothing more. No food or drink, just nothing but himself and the dog and the moon that is starting to rise in the sky.
To Cesar, the dhampir only sighs.]
I don't think there's a single steady course ahead of us.
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Hector drops the note into one of the oil lamps to burn. He lays down in his bed, but it takes a while for sleep to find him. He’s not used to his ship operating without him, and letting go of the control is hard.
He sleeps, but he’s up before the sun rises to make sure nothing’s caught fire in his absence.
Not hearing any alarms, he ducks into the hold and comes up with breakfast and a flask of ale. He has to be allowed to drink something, and spirits keep easier than fresh water on long journeys.
He has enough that he could share, but he’s no longer gong out of his way to push Alucard to eat.]
She didn’t give you any trouble?
[He asks, referring to the ship.]
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He doesn't ask after breakfast when Hector appears on deck. What he does do is place Cesar back down on the ground so that the little dog can greet his person properly, that way Alucard does not appear to be a dog thief.]
There was little to be concerned with, and what small issues did present themselves, they were quick to be resolved. Cesar was also very good company, thank you for letting him stay up.
[He's formal, not only with explanation but with how he holds himself. It's an attempt to respect ship hierarchy, especially since there's been no insistence on it.]
How do your injuries feel?
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Yes, he's a good little first mate. The best you'll find on land or sea.
[Seems someone's in less black of a mood, at least. He lets Cesar back down before the pug can start sniffing at his breakfast.]
A little stiff, but I'll loosen up as I work.
[He frowns at Alucard.]
I already know you're an asshole. No need to pretend at being polite with one another now.
[He pulls out his compass and checks their bearings. On track, for what its worth.]
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[There's actual gratitude there. Alucard had expected Cesar to be brought inside when Hector went to bed, as there's no doubt that the dog is precious to him. Probably the only thing he likes, if Alucard was to guess.]
The bandages will need to be changed before the sun sets again. They'll become saturated with the ointment if they stay on too long, and I don't want that to create it's own problems.
[It's...it isn't concern exactly, but Alucard is the son of not only Dracula, but of his mother too. He had seen her work as a doctor growing up, and absorbed more than his fair share of the information. Hector's probably right, he's an asshole, but Alucard knows his mother would disapprove of just letting an injury go unchecked.]
We're on the same boat, literally and metaphorically, Hector. And you risked everything for my sake, for some reason. I don't intend to be an asshole and disrespect that. Managing to live with each other is the goal right now, and that means at least trying to be pleasant and aware of hierarchies at play.
[Alucard shakes his head. Why is his bothering?]
If you'd rather I take my leave, then I will do so.
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I'll defer to you on the bandages. I know more about flesh after it's gone necrotic, not before.
[He could manage it on his own, but if he can surrender this one worry to focus his mind on greater ones, he'll do so gladly.]
Look, come and sit and we'll have breakfast, or I'll have breakfast and you can watch. I know we're in this together. Neither of us can afford to part ways right now. But you're not a member of my crew, and I'm not your captain, so there's no need for us to act like it. We're on equal footing, for better or for worse.
[Because Alucard won't let Hector see to his needs, and in terms of a plan, Hector is open to suggestions. Getting caught up in ideas of hierarchies or roles is going to hinder more than aid them.]
It looks like we made good time last night. If the winds stay favorable, we can reach the port before dark. I know a trader who is willing to stock a ship and then forget about it, so long as he's paid properly. That will help us no matter where we go.
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...was that a joke?
Alucard isn't sure, but there's a little soft noise that's almost a laugh.]
The goal is to avoid your area of expertise.
[It's as much a joke as Alucard will dare to attempt right now. The tension, it needs to break and break fast, because Alucard knows it'll spell doom just as much as anything else with.]
All right then. [To breakfast. To not dealing with hierarchy. To all of it. There's a certain calmness when Alucard says those words, and then he pauses.] I'm a decent enough cook, for your future reference. [And that's not a brag, that's just true.] I'd also like to transfer full command of your crew back to you, before I eat anything.
[That's just a decent thing to do.]
Mm, I think there are Speakers on that port, yes?
[They'd be the best way to check in about the Belmont armada, so far as Alucard can tell.]
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He's eaten a lot of jerky, hard tack, and dried fruit. Forget that he just called Alucard an asshole not a minute ago. He is of the angels.]
Do you mean you can make this actually appetizing?
[He gestures at his rations, which he's done nothing to prepare but fishing them out of one of the barrels below deck.]
Yes, then, we'll stick to your expertise and leave mine for if anyone unsavory reaches us.
[Maybe he can learn to put up with Alucard and share his dog if real food is on the line. A way to a man's heart, as the saying goes.
Hector sits on deck with a crate to serve as their table. Said jerky and hard bread, he places in the middle. He uncaps the flask and takes a long sip before adding that to the communal pile as well, in case it gets confiscated. ]
I can break the spell, but we'll have to redo it each night if we end up needing to maintain that same speed. Are you alright with that?
[It's not a hard thing to replicate- ashes, a strand of hair, a force of will, and a few drops of his blood, bound into a bundle. But Hector has to imagine the casting of it feels intrusive.]
I suppose there will be a few. There's Speakers around most every port, these days. I don't know what they're after, but I've seen one or two lurking around our destination.
[Hector's not sure why that would matter. They tend to keep to themselves, and they have no maritime fighting force, as far as Hector knows.]
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[Alucard had to learn to cook as a child. His diet was too specialized for him to be without the skill, as Dracula wasn't going to and his mother expected that there would be times in their lives where they would be far from each other. Boat cooking is very different, but it's still a skill to have.
Real food, proper real food made in a house, probably would get at Hector's heart if Alucard had the opportunity. That won't be happening, and so Alucard simply walks over to the makeshift table. It's easy enough to use his nails to crack the hard bread into smaller pieces and to shred the jerky.
Yes, he's shredding the jerky to put it on the bread so it can have a little bit of flavor. Sue him.]
That's fine. The spell works, and I feel safer having to physically hand over the command every sunrise.
[It keeps things above board. Even.]
Mmm. They're one potential route ahead, I believe.
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Hector continues the conversation as if he hadn't just done a minor work of blood magic over breakfast.]
He's always going on about how he could send me with porridge or lentils, if only I'd invest in a real cook-pot. He'll have other ingredients, but he only mentions the basics to me. He knows I am a lost cause.
[Cesar dances around the crate, begging for a treat, so Hector scoops him up and offers him a little slice of jerky. The dog doesn't need to eat, but he enjoys it, and it does not hurt him.]
I wonder if we could disguise our ship as a Seeker vessel. They wear those robes that hide most of themselves.
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I'll write a list before I go to sleep, and we'll go from there. The only request I will insist upon is blood sausage, to meet my dietary needs.
[Blood sausage was the quick fix when other sources weren't available, and Alucard would feel safer with the stuff readily available. There was no snacking on Hector, mostly because he needed to be on the top of his game. Having less blood impacted that.
At least Cesar's cute. There's a soft laugh at the little dance, and how satisfied he looks once it's achieved.]
Absolutely not. The Speakers don't need more violence visited upon them.
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Do you think they know something, then? Or know something and will share it with us?
[Otherwise, what’s the point of caring whether they’ll be at Freeport or not?]
You can use my quarters. It’s the only place with a writing desk to make your shopping list, and we’re on opposite schedules anyway. There’s no reason for you to sleep on those rotten bunks below when the actual bed is free.
[It’s a new ship, and these new quarters have no feeling of ‘home’. Hector hasn’t had a ‘home’ in a very long time. He sees no reason to get territorial over a room he only uses to sleep in. It’s not like it’s his lab or anything important.]
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[Alucard is careful with the response, but he also means it when he says he wants to bring as little heartache to the Speakers as possible. He knows their history and that it is rife with persecution. Bringing Dracula down upon them is cruel.]
There may be wolf fur on your things then.
[It isn't refusing, it isn't fussing, it isn't turning his nose up at it. A big difference from yesterday, and a gentle point.]
I'll strive to keep shedding to a minimum.
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[That is so obviously a joke. Hector can't pretend to be offended for more than a second.]
I will leave them to you. The less small talk I have to do, the better, and splitting up will let us cover more ground, so to speak.
[Stocking up the ship is definitely his preference for the two errands.]
That's nothing new. I've had a wolf before. They used to joke that my workshop at the port doubled as a menagerie.
[Except all his pets are gone now, save Cesar. Hector drops a hand and the little dog bumps his head against it, stealing the morsel of bread he was holding.]
Though, if you always sleep in the body of a wolf, it's a wonder you had a human-sized coffin on your ship. Or must you take that form because I haven't a coffin to house you?
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Mmm. We should only be apart for a short window though. [The reason being obvious: you don't split the party. Not in this much danger.]
I'm sure that it did. [Alucard can't see Cesar being Hector's only pet.]
Being a wolf means that dreams are simpler right now. That's all.
[Alucard shreds a little bit more of the jerky, and he holds it low at Cesar's level. If he has to talk about an Emotion, he's doing it with a dog in his lap.]
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I’ll not let Saint Germain keep me longer than he must and I’ll hasten back to your side before you pine away in my absence.
[The common languages between then seem to be ‘sarcasm’ and ‘dog’, and Hector can live with that.
Cesar abandons Hector for Alucard’s jerky, the little traitor. He’ll take treats and shows of affection from where’re they come. Alucard’s lab puts him in closer proximity to food and to noses to lick, which are his main goals in life.]
That is what the rum was supposed to be for.
[He sighs. Can’t fault a man for using his shapeshifting abilities to his advantage. If Hector could be a wolf, he damn well would.]
Just keep off of my pillow when you’re furry.
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[Alucard raises his eyebrows slightly, intrigued by that thought. He has been asleep for far longer than he thought, if those are the changes that have been made.
But at any rate, Cesar gets a few more bits of jerky, before Alucard gently ushers him back towards Hector. He can share the dog.]
I sill refuse to be fighting this anything but sober. Not against Carmilla, even if her natural effect is to drive a man to drink.
[Alucard's eaten everything he's been given, which is an accomplishment in and of itself.]
I wasn't intending on plaguing you with fur, I promise.
[And that too is said with a certain lightness that also hedges close to a joke. This? This almost feels nice. Normal.]
I'll be back out with the list before I rest for the day.
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[The idea that Germain is anyone important is laughable to Hector. He tries much too hard to be mysterious to actually know anything of worth, right?]
I expect a celebratory drink when we put a stake through her heart.
[He mutters, because he has to have something to look forward to if he's going through the foreseeable future sober.
Hector's pleased with breakfast. Alucard ate something, so the nagging worry that the dhampir will collapse or go on a rampage subsides, and they're managing to get along. Who knew he had it in him?]
Alright, rest while you can. I'm going to press hard today to try to reach port before sundown. There's few places not under your father's control that will welcome a ship docking after dark, for obvious reasons.
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{Alucard's not going to explain the Count, because he still doesn't entirely understand the Count himself. He knows knows him to be a man of infinite resource, so perhaps being a merchant is not that far out of the realm of possibility.
With that, Alucard rises to his feet.]
We will, I promise. Let me go begin on the list.
[With that, Alucard withdraws entirely. He spends a good 15 minutes writing a list, one that's even annotated (OATS-- 2 lbs, no more, they go rancid quickly due to natural fat content ; BLOOD SASUAGE -- Dietary supplement for myself, I will not need blood if I have this). It's folded and handed to Hetor, and then Alucard simply falls asleep in his wolf form beside Hector's bed.
He doesn't stir until woken, his wolf form just curled up into a tight little ball and trying to be even smaller somehow.]
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immortal occultisttime-traveling meddlersworn enemy of Death himselfHector takes a cursory look at Alucard's list, snorts, and tucks it into his pocket.
He sails, and when he finally hands the wheel off to a crewman with instructions to dock, he pauses at the door to the captain's quarters.
...he shouldn't pet the wolf...
...he wants to pet the wolf...
...he steps toward the wolf, but Cesar bumps past his ankles to get to him first. That's probably for the best.]
Wake up. We're making land, and we need to be in and out as fast as we can.
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But it's a good sleep. One that lets Alucard's dreams be much simpler than they would be otherwise, and one that he doesn't wake up from half way through. He stirs only when Hector pushes in. By the time Cesar approaches, he's up and on all four paws, and then after one or two more steps, he's become an Alucard again.
Hector, you can pet the wolf later. He'll allow it.]
Is there still light out?
[Alucard pauses just long enough to straighten his shirt (his coat is long since gone), and even as he asks the question, he's en route to the door.]
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[The sky is just starting to take on the golden glow that heralds the sunset. The Speakers are usually the last to retire when the light fades, and the Count keeps whatever hours he pleases, unconcerned with light or darkness. They should have time for their respective errands.]
Cesar will need to stay here. Don't let him follow you.
[He's already waved his bird-devils and the more obviously undead crew below deck. Only his sailors that are relatively human-passing are above to guard see them to shore and guard the ship. Cesar, much as he would love to follow them into the port, is missing too many parts to be safely allowed in public.]
If there are Speakers, they will likely be on the outskirts of the market. I'll head there once I meet with Germain. This port isn't affiliated with any factions, but keep your head down all the same.
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[By fast he means vampire speed, making it impossible to be followed. Or he would, if that wasn't going to be overly dramatic. The most Alucard does is pause to try and manipulate his hair, tying some back and roughly re-arranging the part so he can hide some of his face under all that hair.
He murmurs a few "I'll be back"s in Cesar's direction as the two begin the work in earnest.]
Understood.
[He'll ask for a cloak at some other point in time - Hector probably has limited wardrobe anyway.
Once they are both off the boat, Alucard's speed increases, away from Hector and knowing he has to work quickly and quietly. Quiet he can do. Quick...well, that depends on factors out of Alucard's control.
It takes time to find the Speakers, even with Hector's advice on where to look. They're cautious everywhere, even in the Freeport, and he only speaks to one. (There are others hiding, he can tell by scent. Speakers have an air of traveled roads to them, even those who live on the seas and the islands.) There is reluctance until he mentions the contact's surname, Belnades.
"There is one part of the Armada that endures, in a port further north than here. Free and warded against Dracula. Step carefully there."
Alucard accepts what is said. It isn't a great lead, but it's better than naught and he and Hector cannot be choosers. He asks that his own destination be passed on to Belnades, and then he withdraws.
Being on the market outskirts means finding small, covered places to hide after Alucard departs from the speakers. There's a tiny little store room that he finds shelter beside, keenly aware of the chill of the evening air threatening to settle.]
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The Count is in high spirits, and is suspiciously well prepared to check off the items on Alucard's list.
Ah, blood sausage. Of course I have it. I've never known you to indulge in something so heavy, Hector.
He packs up their supplies into barrels and canvas sacks and sends them to the dock in a cart for Hector's crewman to load into the ship.
Of course, Germain can't resist stopping him at the door before he can make his escape. He tips his ridiculous top hat and smiles that 'I know more than you' grin.
Oh, and Hector...Walk the path that is meant for you without fear... For you are no longer alone...
He winks an eye, and the door closes of its own accord before Hector can demand an explanation.
Growling about mad bastards who dress themselves like troubadours, Hector stalks out of the warehouse distract and into the open market. The sky is darkening, and soon the last of the vendors will hurry back to their homes to bar their doors to the creatures of night.
Hector looks for Alucard in the darkest corners of the market first, because where else would a dhampir choose to hide himself?]
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[Alucard's question comes from the shadows he's cloaked himself in, although he refuses to step forward just yet. There's no sense of safety out in the open, not right now, and he has no interest in inviting danger to fall upon himself or Hector.
He knows where they must go, and he has to look at maps. Gauge how many days they will be at sea, and that will decide so much more.]
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Yes, I am ready to depart if you are.
[He does not turn to look for Alucard in the darkness.]
I would like us to be off as soon as possible, but if you don't feel up to another night of sailing, we can leave at dawn.
[He is keeping in mind that Alucard's ship sails itself, and he may not be used to keeping such a schedule of actively piloting a vessel like Hector's. Sailing at night is dangerous, both because that is when vampire ships are active, but also just because of the lack of visibility. They need to do it, but undertaking it without being prepared could be just as disastrous or more than lingering at a port to be discovered.]
Meet me back at the ship and we can talk more freely.
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[An understatement. One that sees Alucard remain in the shadows as he begins to walk, focused not on any problems or struggles with the idea of sailing for another night. It isn't a problem for him, not truly. He understands the basics of sailing, and Alucard knows he is the better candidate for night sailing than Hector if only for his eyes alone.
He keeps a swift pace, not looking anywhere but ahead until they are back at their dock. A dock they very much need to leave now. Only when there does Alucard uncloak himself from the shadows.]
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He returns above deck and begins preparing the ship to sail. He can’t be the one to navigate in the darkness, but he can assist until he finally turns in.]
How about your task? Success?
[That will determine if they maintain their original trajectory or plot a new course.]
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[But it is there. There's a hope yet, should they reach it.]
Would you like me to make dinner while we make a departure?
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There are maps and charts at the desk in my quarters. You check them while I get us out of the harbor. There's enough light left for me to pilot us out. Getting our course charted is the top priority.
[It's not like he's eaten well, sailing alone as he's done for the past couple of years. He can wait a little longer for Alucard's reportedly adequate cooking skills.]
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So Alucard heads into the captain's quarters, careful to keep his focus on only the maps and charts. It takes a few minutes to find them, but once that happens, Alucard settles himself down on the floor and proceeds to unroll everything that's pertinent around him. The problem, in so far as he can tell, is the approach to the island itself. It's a nightmare of sandbars at any point besides the highest possible tide, and thus they'll have to leave the ship far at sea. That means letting the Belmont know they're approaching and...
...ugh.
Determined to find another route, Alucard keeps with the maps and charts for a bit yet, taking until they're well at sea to find anything that has a chance of working without giving too much away. Once he's at that point, Alucard gets to his feet and steps over the maps, going for the door.
His head pokes out, looking for Hector.]
...If you've a minute?
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[Hector entrusts the wheel to a crewman and leaves Cesar playing tug-of-war with another. Hector loves the dog dearly, but Cesar has a talent that borderlines on a sixth sense for finding the most important map spread on the table and settling down to nap right on top of it. Worse than any cat Hector's kept, living or un-living.
With ship and pet momentarily secured, Hector slips into the room and pulls shut the door behind him.]
What is it? Do you have a course, or is the Belmont ship more trouble than it's worth?
[He takes a peek down at the maps Alucard has spread over the floor.]
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[Alucard returns to his little spot in the semi-circle of maps that he has set up, gesturing for Hector to come and at least stand where he is.]
The place is surrounded by sandbars from every approach save for one in the north east, here. [He taps a map that has the island on it, and it is a very small part indeed.] There's a channel that runs deep even at high tide, likely because there's a river or at least some kind of water flow from the island out to the sea. The issue is both how narrow it is and how to approach, as we don't want to give our approach away.
[Alucard then indicates a map of the waters leading up to the approach.]
There's a natural reef that makes approaching the area trickier, but we may be able to avoid it if the wind is in our favor. Of course, if we're dealing with a Belmont, we have to expect wards, traps, and other such nonsense even if we aren't detected.
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What do we hope to get from the Belmont? Is stealth needed? If we want to treat with them, I can send a message by air. They’ll likely shoot it down, but if the letter’s in a flame-proofed bag, it will probably survive.
If we want to take the ship, we need to lure it out into open water. Make him come to us, rather than walking in to that death trap.
[He traces a finger along the treacherous shallows and reefs on the map.]
If it is integral to make our way there in stealth, I could probably forge something that could clear a path, but I’m loath to do that. The reefs are a delicate ecosystem and house some truly fascinating species.
[Hector’s priorities: he will make peace or war with the last of the Belmonts without qualm, but when it comes to destruction of wildlife, he hesitates.]
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[Alucard's been dealing with the thoughs on and off, of what he wants. What he really needs to do, but he's never given them real words. Never said them out loud.]
Stop my father? Simply escape with our skins? See to Carmilla but no other? And if we seek only escape, then going to the doorstep of a Belmont is death just in another manner.
[There's a moment where he's quiet, running his hand through his hair.]
And if we mean to stop my father, then it means his death.
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We're never going to be safe, if we run. Well, maybe you will be from your father, if Dracula's content to ignore you...but the others won't let either of us be.
[He pauses, not wanting to keep going, but he's really got no choice. Hector...knows what it means to be a patricide. It's a shadow that hangs over you for the rest of your life, and Alucard's will be a long one.]
We could aim to kill the other vampires, but so long as Dracula hungers for revenge, he will simply create more. So we either defeat Dracula, or we run.
...I will run, if that is what you want. He is your father.
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[Alucard knows that Hector will likely resent any sense of responsibility the dhampir feels for making sure that the necromancer's life endured. After all, Hector made this choice independent of Alucard. There is no true reason for Alucard to have that responsibility. All the same though, Alucard feels it and feels it keenly, aware and worried of imperiling the other man alongside himself.]
I've never known him to create another vampire. [Why would he? Another vampire with even a fraction of his powers? Unthinkable.] But no. The truth is clear enough.
[His gaze returns to the map.]
But that will make it easier to approach the Belmont. Offer help in destroying my father, and perhaps there will be a moment to make the case before a stake is driven into my heart.
[Hector didn't sign up for that part though, did he?]
What do you want from here on out, Hector?
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I want to be allowed to sail freely with my dog, and study the living and unliving things of the world, and create new ones. What I want, I will never be permitted, whether Dracula lives or dies.
[His shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. Maybe once, he'd thought it possible, when Dracula told him he would seize control of the seas and regulate them. He knows now that it is folly.]
But, if I fight, and somehow don't die, maybe we'll kill all the vampires and I'll be able to go and see those turtles you spoke of.
[He looks up finally at Alucard.]
Do you think Belmonts can read, or are they the type of brutes you have to fight before they'll listen? All I know of them, I've heard from their mortal enemies, so it's likely all wildly inaccurate.
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[His voice is barely a whisper. But in there, there's some approval. That sounds nice.
Alucard closes his eyes, considering what the best step forward is.]
We would be best served by having a neutral party. I...the Speakers might be the best candidates, especially if I can take one of the life boats here in under a white flag. You wouldn't have to take additional risks beyond simply sitting and waiting for either me to return, or to be waved off by some other means.
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If you wanted to get yourself killed, you should have said so back in the prison and saved me the trouble of jailbreaking you. Aren’t the Speakers pacifists? So they won’t be able to help you if the Belmonts attack first and ask questions never.
[He sets his jaw stubbornly.]
Between the two of us, we can hopefully keep whatever remnants of the Belmonts remain occupied until you or your Speakers can explain yourselves.
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But yes, they are pacificts. I have one I'd ask, but they're a number of islands away.
[Sypha never really clarified her gender.]
In an ideal situation, it'd be only myself and the Speaker on a boat. Once at the island, I'd stay put while they made contact, and it would go from there. I feel a dhampir is already enough of a potential panic button for a Belmont. No need to add a necromancer in.
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[Hector is used to a necromancer’s welcome (or more accurately, the decided lack thereof) where he goes, so he’s not sure why this instance irks him so. Maybe he thought it could be different with Alucard.
Maybe he is overtired and ill-fed.
He pushes himself up.]
Plot your course to the Speaker’s isle and make yourself ready to sail. I’m going below to eat before I transfer the crew to your control.
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I want one of us to survive one of this. This...it allows for that slim chance. But a chance all the same.
[He hates this.
They both probably need to eat.]
Are you truly that keen to be at my side for this?
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You don’t have to make it sound like I’m some lovestruck maiden you’re leaving at shore.
[He growls, struggling to give voice to his thoughts. He has never had a friend before, at least not a humanoid one. Alucard is not that, but it feels like he could become it, with time.]
You’ve sailed on my ship. You’ve eaten my food. You've bandaged my wounds. You’ve spoiled my dog. You could have killed me when first we met, but you did not, because in spite of your withdrawal, you are good.
[These are facts that Hector can lay before Alucard as points of evidence to his argument.]
Considering all of that, were you in my place, would you be content to leave such a man to venture into an enemy’s stronghold without backup?
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You're right. In all respects. I will try to stop the compulsion to keep offering escape hatches. If you wanted one, you'd find one.
[Alucard brings himself upright, slowly and carefully. He doesn't wish to step on the maps.]
And no, I would not. Tell me, do you have some kind of bird that we can send as an emissary to the Speakers, rather than having to sail all the way there only to be told to go away?
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[If Hector had the skill for it, he would embroider it on a damned pillow, to be hurled at Alucard’s head whenever he got a brooding, self-sacrificial notion into his head.]
That depends. Are the Speakers likely to take fright if they see a little exposed bone? I have a skeletal bird that could make a flight over the open waters right now. If it needs to pass for a living bird, I’ll need time for cosmetic adjustments.
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[Who needs embroidery when you have constant reminders anyway?]
The one I'm thinking of in particular would not be so surprised, especially if it was clear I was the sender. How big is the bird?
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A bird, white bones mixed with white feathers, mostly the shape and size on an albatross, lands on his forearm. It’s mostly unadulterated, except for talons where normally there would be webbed feet. The span of its wings, when outstretched, are wider than Hector stands tall.
He turns with the bird and presents it to Alucard to study.]
She’s capable of a long journey, but if you think she’s too large or conspicuous, I can catch a gull in the morning and use that instead.
[Hector usually tries to avoid killing animals in order to forge them, but if needs must...]
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But it's an ocean bird, and unless one sees it up close, it isn't going to attract any attention. Alucard leans in, taking careful not of where there are more obvious bones, and he nods.]
If she's willing, then that's all that matters. Her size means I can write a slightly more detailed message.
[That actually gets a thin smile.]
I'll do that, then make something to eat. For now, we just need to keep north.
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[Hector raises his arm in a sudden jerk and the bird stretches her wings and takes flight, gliding up to settle on one of the ship's masts. There is a faint blue glow to her eyes, but otherwise, from a distance, the patches of missing feathers aren't too noticeable.
Hector leaves Alucard in the captain's quarters. He should know where to find everything he needs for his letter to the Speaker. He heads back out to the wheel to keep them on course.]
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[He doesn't manage to take terribly long with the note. It's simply written, although Alucard's still sure he has left things out. Satisfied with the letter, he tries to woo the bird over so he can attach the letter.
Okay, it's him floating up to the bird on the ship mast, but same thing in the end. Alucard then lands and moves below deck to the galley.
It isn't much. One pot, a little bit of food, and a very small amount of fresh water. Alucard reaches for some of the dried meat first, adds it to the fresh water, and after half an hour, he has an acceptable soup whose broth could be better, but has little salted meat chunks, a little bit of rice, and potatoes which isn't bad.
Oatmeal will be for the morning, but for now, soup.
He returns on deck with two bowls of the soup, and offers one to Hector.]
Here.
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...thanks.
[He hands the wheel off to a crewman and goes to sit with his bowl. He has to spoon out a tidbit of meat for Cesar before he can sample it in peace.]
The bird will need direction on where to go. If you show me on the maps, I can do it, or you can instruct her once you take control. I understand if you want to keep the Speakers' secrets.
[He pulls another one of the little spelled pouches from his pocket and offers it to Alucard. Another night of Alucard in control of the ship and crew.]
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You're welcome.
[Alucard follows after Hector, sitting and enjoying the luxury of eating something that he has made. It comes with a soft hum of consideration for Hector's words.]
I'll instruct her, if you don't mind. A Speaker's trust is something I do not wish to even entertain the notion of abuse.
[So he holds out his hand automatically, soup bowl holding the spoon for just a moment.]
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You may earn your keep after all.
[He says over the steaming bowl, which is tasty in spite of its simplicity. It's a shame Hector hasn't translated his love of creation into the culinary realm, with such a difference a good hot meal can make after a day spent sailing.
He puts his bowl aside, giving Cesar a firm glance to keep him from nosing into it, and activates the spell. Once again, Alucard takes on the aura of necromatic power.]
So, I heard it said that Speakers don't write. They can read, right? Do you think you'll get a reply?
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[It's dry, but he's trying to be funny. What a concept. Alucard hasn't even known himself to try and joke since being awake.
He blinks once after the spell has taken hold, aware of how the energy around him has changed and gently settling against it.]
They don't write, by and large, but they can read. They need it to absorb all number of stories, although they prefer to hear things out loud, since they are an oral culture. This particular speaker? I fully expect a response.
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It feels good to joke and needle at someone living. They can’t relax fully, but they can at least ease back a little.]
This will be her first time acting as a carrier pidgeon...carrion pidgeon, maybe... so be sure that she knows to wait for a response.
[Hector’s pets are imbued with intelligence beyond the animals’ typical capacity so that they can follow their master’s instructions, but they can’t make leaps of logic the way a human mind can.]
You must have made quite an impression on this Speaker if you’re so certain they will break with tradition for you.
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[Alucard smiles thinly, because if there was one thing Sypha made clear about herself it was that she was a Speaker of infinite resources. There's a moment after Hector's statement about impressions and...
...yeah, there's a tinge of red in his cheeks. Shut up.]
This particular one is...spirited. And the impression was very mutual.
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[Hector raises an eyebrow, honing in on Alucard's discomfort.]
So that's why you don't mind a flashy messenger. You're hoping to make a more lasting impression.
[Hector could make a ribald comment about 'brushing up on oral tradition' or the value the speakers must put on a cunning linguist, but their alliance is still tender and new.
He'll save it for later.]Have I encroached on any plans, insisting that I come along to the Belmont's Island of Death?
[Lover-boy might have had an ulterior motive in trying to send Hector away 'for his safety'.]
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Don't be ridiculous. This is simply banking on natural talent and skill, and a sense of trust. Or at least that if I can feel comfortable after a little bit of discussion, the same effect might--
[Oh God he's just digging a hole in deeper and deeper, ins't he? Alucard just. Stuffs soup in his mouth and prays that Hector will drop this.]
It's not relevant to the situation!
[Give him a ladder to climb out of that hole.]
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Does your Speaker have a name?
[Otherwise, Hector is going to refer to them exclusively as 'The Future Mr./Mrs. Ţepeş'.
He takes a spoonful of soup to keep from chuckling over how terrible Alucard is at all of this. Weren't vampires supposed to be suave? Apparently the half Alucard got from his father wasn't the smooth half.]
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[He has a theory based on the ending a but that's just a theory and frankly it doesn't matter and-]
They're not mine!
[The hole is getting deeper. And now Alucard has no more soup, so he can only hope that the need to sleep will win out over Hector.
Hector, you didn't actually see dad and mom together. You'd rethink that.]
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[Hector is going to get himself stabbed. It's fine. Alucard will take care of Cesar in his absence.
He finishes his soup and hands off his bowl to a passing crewman.]
Are you ready to take over?
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for now, because it's been a long day and Hector needs to retire to bed.]no subject
[Floating does not sound badass or impressive in the least, after all. And that thought is the only reason Hector isn't getting stabbed. The vampire is very distracted with his own thoughts.]
Let me send off this messenger, and then I shall be.
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[Hector could still call the albatross down, but he leaves that for Alucard. The more he practices controlling Hector's undead creatures, the better equipped he will be to command them in an emergency.]
Give her the instructions with landmarks. East and west mean nothing to wild creatures. It is 'towards the rising sun' or against it.
[These might be things that Alucard understands, what with his wolf form, but Hector doesn't want to take a chance. Not when
this budding romancetheir survival is on the line.Once Alucard sends the bird off, he'll see himself to bed.]
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[It is the least of every single problem they're up against. All the more reason to focus on it - pleasant distractions are few and far between at the moment, and he'll hang on to all he has.]
Landmarks I can do. Far easier to explain that anyway than calculate mileage without a map in front of me.
[After a few attempts to call the albatross down (there is one that starts with excuse me, bird? But once he's gotten the bird down and attached the message, Alucard is nothing if not exacting. He doesn't just describe the island, he describes Sypha in exacting detail, much of it more clinical than smitten (although it does creep in.) It ends with a polite enough thank you before the bird is off, and...well. There they are.
Alucard's gaze goes to Hector, and he nods once.]
Get some sleep. I'll see you come morning.
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He'll throw the man a bone, he supposes.]
'Levitation' doesn't sound half-bad. I'd start from there and build up a suitably impressive name.
[He whistles for Cesar, who can subsist without sleep, but really shouldn't. He's a first-class first mate, but Alucard will have to do without him for at least part of the night.
Although the crew knows to come and open the door to let him out of Hector's room if he scratches by the door long enough, so Alucard will likely have his companion back before the night is done.]
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[And then that's it. Hector withdraws, and the night passes by quietly. There are no events, nothing untowards, nothing working against them. Even the wind remains in their favor, and Alucard would be alarmed if he didn't simply want to luxuriate against the thought of something going right.
Morning comes. Alucard hands control of the ship back over to Hector first, and there's oatmeal made (with a little dried fruit in it) to ensure that Hector has fuel for the day and Alucard can rest on a full stomach. It is wonderful, made even moreso for the albatross' return just as Alucard is ready to retire.
The thing lands beside Hector, but it lets Alucard take the message. He skims, then nods.]
They've agreed to help.
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That was quick. Guess the impression was mutual.
[The dhampir is keeping him well-fed, so Hector leaves the teasing at that. He'd hate to have to go back to dried goods and hard tack.]
Do we need to go fetch them, or will they meet us at Death Island?
[It has a real name, but the nickname serves the dual purposes of being both overly dramatic and also harder for any spies to pinpoint, should they be listening in.]
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[This is getting embarrassing very quickly. But more importantly, he regards the albatross with respect, but a little uncertainty that she may be less inclined to be polite at him. She is, after all, under Hector's control again and she may not appreciate anyone else's touch.]
Thank you, miss.
[He then lets out a soft noise, opening the letter again and re-reading it.]
They'll meet us there. They're two, maybe three days out, and I believe that suits our schedule just fine. Death Island isn't going anywhere.
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[The sun is rising, so Hector gets to work, leaving Alucard to swoon over his letter. Two or three days is not much time to prepare for taking on a Belmont hideout, and for a necromancer, preparation is key.
He makes sure they are on the right course, then brings up some of his tools and the components he's scrounged up so that he can supervise the crewmen while he works. He's working with what has tangled with his crew's nets, so that means mainly aquatic forges. Still, any reinforcement is good, and he feels better knowing there is something patrolling beneath the waves in case attack comes at them from below.
The day passes mostly without incident. At one point, Hector spots a ship on the horizon. Black sails, but from the wrong direction to have been following from the Caribbean. A vessel piloted by human pirates serving Dracula's court, not one controlled by vampires, if they are sailing during the daylight hours. It is a meeting of pure happenstance; the other ship is likely heading back to port after pillaging further north.
Hector sends one of his newly-assembled mer-creatures to stealthily disable the ship's rudder and leave them stranded. The flags his ship flies are a nondescript white, and the ship has no markings to declare it for or against any faction. Hector redirects their path to get out of their line of sight as quickly as possible. Attacking and sinking it will draw much too much attention, when they could more safely and easily preserve the illusion of being a trading vessel spooked into fleeing by the sight of an unknown ship in their path.
Hector doesn't call Alucard during the encounter. Best for him to stay out of sight, just in case. When the dhampir awakens, Hector will give him a briefing.]
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[And so Alucard does retreat. He sleeps as a man for once, content with having something mattress-like under him and aware that in his sleeping form he well, sleeps like the dead. It's unnerving, and another reason he has mostly rested as a wolf. Sure, Hector is probably used to other vampires resting like this, but that doesn't mean Alucard can't extend a basic politeness.
His rest is peaceful, in that it ever can be. Alucard lets the deepest part of him that can sleep take over, and that means no dreams. No tossing and turning about. Nothing of the sort, and in that is a relief.
It is the internal clock that knows sunset that causes the dhampir to stir. That realization comes with a soft groan as he forces himself upright, shuffling towards the door of the cabin and opening it.]
I presume I am on dinner duty?
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No need. We can eat dried food tonight. There was a ship earlier. I took care of it, and I doubt they took notice of us, but we should be vigilant, in case.
[He gives Alucard a run-down of the day's events.]
I can stay up to help keep watch. One sleepless night won't hurt me.
[He'd prefer to find a safe harbor and hide away for a few days to be sure no alarm was raised, but they've set Alucard's Speaker on course for Death Island already, so they can't afford to delay.]
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That was a clever use of forged creatures.
[He murmurs it, alarmed and unhappy but capable of knowing that Hector's choices were incredibly smart.]
But no. I'd rather you sleep and have to be awakened if something happens. Now is not the time to contemplate a sleepless night.
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They are capable of more than just killing. So few in the court realize that. They use them like bullets, fired at the enemy with no thought of retrieval.
[Hector hates it, though it does give them the advantage of being underestimated. Only a very few, very dangerous vampires possess the creativity to see beyond the forged creatures’ capacity for killing.
He passes over the evening’s charm to hand over control to the dhampir.]
Wake me if you see anything. Even if it seems like nothing. I can send one of my creatures out to investigate.
[He hesitates over retiring. As well as they have worked together these past few days, Hector is still used to being the one in charge of his ship. He knows he can trust Alucard, but he doesn’t know how to force himself to feel like he can trust him.]
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[It is such an advantage though. Alucard knows that much as he takes the evening's charm.]
I shall do so. Try and sleep. I won't say to rest easy - it is not possible in these times.
[Alucard looks to Cesar, hoping the pup will follow after Hector for the night. If anyone needs comfort at the moment, it's the forge master.
Night settles. Night remains, a half moon lighting the waves. But there's--
--to the south west of them. Alucard catches sight of the flag first, a deep blood red with no embellishments. It's an ally of his father's, but they've made no notice of the other ship. Yet.
He has one of Hector's forged creatures wake him instead. Alucard remains rooted to the spot, spyglass in hand.]
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The crewman's knock wakes Cesar, who headbutts Hector back into consciousness. Hector quickly tugs on his boots and rushes out.
He doesn't try to take the spyglass from Alucard, not with the light being what it is. Alucard's eyes can see the details they need, and Hector's simply won't.]
What it is?
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[Alucard hands the spyglass to Hector, and a single long, pale finger points out the offending ship.]
They fly vampire colors. I can't determine their intent, but I do not wish to take a chance if they're hostile.
[He breathes out, slow.]
If we take a detour to throw them off, heading south east, we will loose half a day. But that comes with safety.
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We could destroy it, but that would take resources, and it could draw attention to our location.
[At this point in their plan, the need for stealth seems to trump speed.]
But then again, even if we go around, there's no guarantee they won't spot us and follow.
[He gives the spyglass back to Alucard.]
If you think your Speaker will wait for us, we'll take the detour. I can pull the same trick that I did this morning to delay any pursuit, and if they still try to follow, or show any sign of raising an alarm, we destroy them.
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[Alucard holds his hand out for the glass again. He caught movement, the identity part is still possible. Just with a few more moments to stare.]
I don't know if they'll wait. It feels likely, but I don't want to risk it. I also worry that they may look here, see our crew, and know who they serve.
[Hector is probably just as wanted as Alucard is now.]
My gut says to see if the same trick will work twice.
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He can still command his crew, even with the charm in effect, though they will get confused if he and Alucard give conflicting orders. With a command of will, one of the mer-creatures he forged jump out of the water
spinning, because Castlevaniaand lands on the deck.Hector places a hand on its shoulder, cobbled together from shark and human parts, and murmurs the instructions for it. It drops back off of the side of the ship and disappears beneath the water. There is no further sign of it.]
Don't start running until the creature is done. He has a measure of intelligence, but it will be harder for him to sabotage the ship if they start maneuvering to follow us. He's quick; we won't lose much time.
[Unless this is one of the few ships with creatures of their own guarding their vessels from below, in which case, fuck.]
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He watches it go.]
I understand. If we're followed, can you take command of the ship if I have to hide my face?
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If I must. I can't see well enough to navigate well, but I could keep us going in the right direction. We're not near enough to land to run the risk of running aground.
[That's something, at least. The ship is safer in Alucard's hands at the moment, but Hector isn't helpless.]
You do know that if we're followed and made, I am going to destroy that ship. They cannot be allowed to escape if they will carry back word of our location to the Court.
[He still has one large, tentacled ace in the hole, if he needs to call on her.]
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It'll draw attention to us, but only after a few days of the vessel being understood as missing. It's hardly ideal, but it's so much safer than them returning word to my father that we live.
[Alucard shudders a little. This is scary. He can't lie about that simple fact. Nor can he be happy about taking lives.]
I'd offer to navigate as a wolf, but I'm still too obvious in that form. Perhaps if my fur was darker, it'd be plausible but--
[What, they're gonna put a coat on him?]
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Navigating as a wolf? How would that even work?
[Bark once for left, twice for right? That would be goddamn ridiculous.]
Get us on course, then get below deck. I'll take care of it.
[The merman does his work, and as far as Hector can tell, no alarm is raised. The one signals the others still beneath the waves, relaying his victory.]
It's time to go.
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[It's not going to work, that's the point. Alucard shakes his head, and he takes Hector's request as a command. There are a few orders given to the nearest crew in order to relay it to the others. It's a way to avoid shouting, and soon there's wind in the sails and the course is all but set.]
We're good to go, barring chaos. I'll be right at the stairs, listening.
[Alucard does as he says he will, disappearing down the steps below deck and then staying there. Every part of him is tense, like a finely tuned string. Silence wears on. None of it makes him feel more comfortable.]
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[In spite of his grumbling, Hector takes the helm and they are off on the new path. One of his undead crewman fetches a cap for him to wear. His hair isn't as remarkable or eerily perfect as Alucard's, but it is still an oddity. Covering it is better.
Cesar, he sends to wait with Alucard at the stairs. The trip is going to be an anxious one, and at least one of them can benefit from the
emotional supportpug's presence.There's wind enough to move them along, though Hector wishes it was a stronger breeze to get them there faster. Lights appear on the deck of the pirate ship in the distance, likely from the realization of their loss of steering power and the investigation into the cause.
Hopefully it is enough to distract them from the ship in the distance in the dark, but unease gnaws at Hector's gut. They discovered it so quickly. Happenstance, a mere adjustment of their path, or had they been preparing to turn and make for Hector's ship?
Hector keeps the lights low on his ship, putting his faith in his crew, his knowledge of the ship, and the course Alucard had set them on. Sailing nearly blind, he eventually loses sight of the pirate vessel.]
Come out, but stay low. I need you to check and make sure they're out of sight.
[He keeps his voice low as he calls to Alucard; vampiric ears don't need much, especially when they are actively listening up for the call.]
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[He says it as a snide comment, but Alucard is genuinely surprised. He's a fluffy dog, and Hector is Hector. To not even ask is...well. Weird and wrong.
Cesar's company is appreciated, and the emotional support pug gets pet for all his troubles. He's a good boy. Best, even, worthy of all the attention he recieves. It also allows Alucard to do something besides just standing and waiting, which is the real mercy all things considered.
He's not sure how much time has passed when Hector calls for him. Alucard's careful to crouch once he gets up the stairs. His stomach may as well be to the ground when he gets to the side of the ship, and he places his forearm over his head to obscure his hair when his eyes peak over the railing.]
Just barely, and it looks like they may be changing direction. Hang on.
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What? You’re still you in there. It’s not like.... I couldn’t....would you say yes?
[This is The Worst situation and he hates it, and he would sure as Hell pet the big dog if it was an option. But he can’t go around asking to pet Alucard.
He’s regained some composure at least by the time Alucard returns to scout.]
Damn, they fixed it that quickly? They’re much more competent than the last ship.
[The same trick won’t work on them a second time. Fuck.]
Look for movement in the skies. They could have creatures to send out. I’ve got a watch set below the surface.
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[Alucard keeps his eyes focused. The ship is moving, flags sailing and....]
It's turning around. Slowly and--
[And that is the moment that there is movement over the sail. Alucard swears softly.]
They have something in the sky. I can't tell if it's circling their ship or it is awaiting instruction to come here.
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[Hector’s foot taps nervously on the deck. They’ve been made, that’s all he can think.]
Ok, plan. We can’t let them send out any messages. If it’s just one creature up there, I can send a bird-devil after it to try to stop it. If it can just bear it down into the water, the mercreatures can take care of the rest.
[Both of his flying creatures- albatross and skeletal bird devil- will stand out in the darkness, though. On his own ship, at full capacity, Hector would have creatures suited to stealth assassins in the night. On this hastily-assembled replacement ship, he just doesn’t have what he needs.]
They’re going to take notice if I do it. I could sink them, but it will be costly. My kraken isn’t finished or whole yet. She’s fragile, and I don’t know what they have to combat her.
[He looks to Alucard. He is co-captain, and if they’re going to likely die horribly, he should be afforded the courtesy of a say in the matter.]
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[Alucard has heard everything Hector's said. But his eyes have been on the creature the entire time, watching it and---
it returns to the ship.
Alucard's eyes narrow, and he gestures at Hector. He's looking for the spyglass, because there's an awful thought that has just occurred to him.]
I think I see someone who's in charge. Please, I need to see.
[It's said with quiet urgency.]
It'll define all our plans from here on out.
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Alright, but we can't afford to hold for long. Hurry.
[He stays by the wheel, fingers drumming on the spokes, trying to work off his nervous energy. He hasn't slept enough and he won't be resting anytime soon.]
Can you tell who it is?
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It's Isaac.
[There's only a soft hiss, and then Alucard's eyes go to Hector.]
We need a plan that will force him to search and buy us enough time to do this work.
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Isaac has no better eyesight than mine...and he won't be sailing with any other vampires. His creatures will need to get close to see us.
[The downside is, unlike all of the other vampire crews, who had a mixture of Hector and Isaac's forged creatures, Isaac will have a ship full of creatures fully loyal to him. Hector has no chance of being able to command any of them.]
I can send the creatures I have out in different directions, create movement to draw Isaac's searchers. We need to destroy anything that comes our way, but it would at least divide their numbers.
[It feels like trying to keep a sieve filled with sand, but it's all he can think to do.]
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[There's a quiet urgency to Alucard's voice. It isn't a good idea, but it is an option all the same.]
Create movement. Scatter. And then we're scattered too, and harder to track because it's a smaller vessel. Or I can try and become mist to cover an escape. I don't know how far I can spread myself in that form.
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[He hasn't had this ship long enough to grow attached, but it's still a strategic advantage that they'd be abandoning. If they can reach their Seeker ally, Sypha might show them pity and deliver them to a port- if they survive Death Island and the Belmonts.]
The mist is a no-go. You don't know the limits of it, and what happens if I breath some of you in? Start loading supplies into the lifeboat.
[They are still two days out from their destination, so if they do go with this plan, it'll be a race to get to the Belmont stronghold before they are found again.]
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Alucard rubs at the bridge of his nose, weighing stupid idea after stupid idea. Fighting Isaac? Extremely stupid. Maybe if it was a more even match with no forged creatures around. But Isaac has a legion to defend himself, and Alucard knows he can be done in by sheer numbers now.
It's bad, abandoning the ship. But there's a thought.]
I know your large friend below is still fragile, but is there a way she could grasp the ship and make it appear to sink without doing it harm or rendering it truly unusable?
I'm so sorry, my inbox apparently ate this notification
Usually, she would rend a ship asunder as she drags it down, but perhaps if we made some holes to let the water in, she could carry the ship the rest of the way down...
[He doesn't know this vessel as intimately as the one Carmilla stole from him, but every captain has a basic idea of where a ship can and can't take on water and stay afloat. They could open her up in places it wouldn't be too hard to repair.]
We couldn't have her do it within Isaac's sight. He'd never believe that she'd attack my ship. But if we worked quickly, before he gets to us... if we go down at the right angle, there would be air pockets in the hull enough to sustain us for an hour or more.... My kraken has the strength to pull us down, but it's a gamble whether she'll be able to hold us down and bring us back up when Isaac has gone past. We may lose the ship anyways.
[But if they could sink their ship and hide beneath the waves, and send a few of Hector's crew piloting one of the life boats, they might elude Isaac's notice.]
No problem !
[It's a big if. The whole thing is a massive if, and Alucard doesn't like any of the options available to them.
They don't have time to think. A horrible lump rises up his throat.]
Make a call. If we're to be adrift on a life boat, I will contact the Speakers with our rough coordinates so they may pick us up en route to the Belmont. Or...whatever the plan is.
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Fuck it, we're probably going to die anyway. I might as well go knowing that that bastard Isaac is fucking bewildered wondering where we disappeared to. I hope you're not claustrophobic.
[The crew begins securing everything on deck, save for the decoy lifeboat.]
Come with me. I'll show you where to make the holes, and you can put that freakish strength to good use.
[It's the path that, if a miracle happens and everything goes to plan, sacrifices the least. One life boat, one crewman wearing a borrowed sash and Hector's captain's hat, a mer-creature to pull the boat, and a bundle of blankets that, in the darkness, could theoretically conceal a wolf. The sight wouldn't fool Isaac, but it might fool the monstrous eyes that carry their report back to him.]
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[It's not helpful to seek refuge in being a dick. Alucard knows it, but he needs something normal to help power through this. Alucard lets out a low, stressed breath, but--]
Hector. I need to write and send the note to the Speakers first. Then holes.
[Alucard doesn't know where the albatross is. He can't call her right now, the movement will be too suspicious. But the note still has to be written and dispatched.]
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Be quick about it. [He turns to see to the decoy boat and the other preparations. Beneath them, the waves churn with the kraken’s approach.]
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[It's covering their own asses! Alucard speeds himself inside the captain's quarters to quickly dash off a note, and then he runs out to find the albatross. It occurs to him in the search that yes, technically, he has control of the ship still. It is night, and he hasn't given Hector full control yet.
So the bird is summoned and given a destination, and that is all. Satisfied, Alucard takes his wolf form, if only because four legs make it easier to sneak about on deck.
It is the wolf that nudge's Hector's leg. He's ready for the holes.]
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[Hector has scooped up Cesar and made his way down to the hold to inspect the walls. When the wolf brushes up against him, he resists the urge to pet and instead traces his fingers over the wood.]
We need to work quickly and then get ready to go under. The crew is securing themselves; don't give them any orders in conflict with that.
[Hector wraps one arm through a rope hanging from the rafters, and closes his eyes to focus on extending his power to the kraken beneath them. Cesar whimpers from the crook of Hector's other arm, sensing his master's anxiety.]
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Cesar's whimpers are distressing to hear. Alucard tries his level best to ignore them, but it is a struggle.]
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[The ship shakes as kraken tentacles begin to entwine around the exterior.]
All of my focus is going to be on directing her so we don't shift and lose our air pocket. You're going to have to check in with the mers when you think Isaac has passed over us.
[The boat is going to be like a dark, watery tomb once they go under. Hector hates this plan already.]
Do it.
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[To all of it. To ignoring Cesar, as hard and heartbreaking as it is. To making the holes. To sticking close to Hector after, and to communicating with the mer creatures to ensure that Isaac has left them be.
Alucard uses his impossibly long nails to etch the shapes of the holes deep in the wood. Three on each side, the size large but not too big that the whole ship will go down in one terrifying swoop, possibly killing the airpocket they're relying upon to save their lives. Once they're all done, well.
Vampire strength means punching them out in quick succession, and he does that. A little half-human hole punch.
Then the water comes. The flow of it is steady, and Alucard returns to Hector's side, clinging close. So, so close.]
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It is a delicate process of minute course corrections with a very blunt instrument. There is a reason forgemasters typically cap out at a certain size of creatures, and why they usually summon a soul for the creature, rather than driving its movements more directly like this. It is exhausting. Hector is going to want to sleep for a week when this is done.
The water level reaches ankles, knees, waists. With the lurching and the splashing of waves, the candles lighting the room go out. It's complete darkness, save for the faint blue light of Hector's necromancy, and Cesar's single glowing eye.
It barely registers when Alucard draws near him, though Cesar snuffles and wiggles closer to him for the reassurance Hector can't provide at the moment.
After a few tense minutes of dragging downward, the ship settles into a more rhythmic rocking. Now, they wait, and hope their air lasts as long as they need it to.]
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Well, barely. This is a different kind of pitch black than he is used to, and a part of it is being so deep inside of something that it's disorienting. So he keeps petting Cesar.
At some point, he reaches out to the mer-creatures. Asks them for a status report, and apparently Isaac's ship has come closer, not further away. The sinking is an alarming thing, and Alucard breathes out a soft, sharp hiss.]
He's right above us.
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[Hector shivers. The water isn’t as cold as it would be further north or closer to the winter months, but he’s bleeding energy into his creation.
He opens his eyes, though he can barely see anything anyways.]
I’m going to have to release control. He must sense my power. With luck, he’ll think this was a decoy to lure him to this spot while we escaped.
[He gives the kraken her instructions, to keep holding them as she is now, and then lets go of the connection. Squid are intelligent creatures, and he hopes to whatever gods above or below that the giant versions are as well. He needs her to be able to remember him and continue to serve his will when he is no longer linked to her.]
We wait. If the air grows thin, there may be other pockets in the hold or in my quarters.
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[He doesn't want to have to move.]
My coat in one hand. Cesar in the other.
[Everything is balanced on a razor thin edge. Alucard can feel the kraken's movements, for she's so large that it's impossible not to, and...if they die like this, at least it was an interesting way to go out.
Alucard reaches out to the mer-creatures again. And again. And again. For an awful twenty minutes, it's the same report. He's there. He's there. He's--]
He's taking the ship's figure head as a prize. If his creatures can haul it up, we're clear.
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[Hector whispers, as if there's danger of being overheard. It just feels hushed in the dark cave of the ship's hull.
Of course Isaac would want some souvenir to lay as tribute at Dracula's feet, the insufferable suck-up. Hector wants to send the kraken to rend his ship asunder just on principle.]
You don't secretly know any curses you could lay on it, do you?
[He's not even that attached to this ship, but it's still a blow to his pride to have it stripped of the such a symbol.]
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[Okay. Maybe he is. But Alucard's trying to be a mature adult and override terrible impulses.]
Think about larger scale revenge for later instead.
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[Ok, maybe they need to find a new air pocket, because Hector is maybe a little light-headed and getting loopy imagining Isaac cursed with scurvy or perpetually soggy boots or something.
He untangles his arm from the rope that has been keeping him steady and catches Alucard's coat in his fist. Cesar stirs in his arm and wags his little curl of a tail.]
Get us to the aft bulkhead. We should have more air there.
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[Alucard's far too focused on just getting through the next few hours. Survival is all that matters, and--
--yes. Different air would be good. Alucard adjusts to the weight of Hector on his coat, and takes a careful look at him and Cesar to ensure that they are secure.]
Understood. Hang on.
[Alucard waits until everyone has taken their last gulp of air, and then he dives under.
It has to be quick going. Alucard doesn't know how long Hector can hold his breath, and being a half-vampire doesn't negate his own need for air. The weight and drag of Hector slows him some, and Alucard prays that forcing vampire speed will assist a little. It...doesn't work as well underwater, but they move, and that's all that matters in the end.
The aft bulkhead has a bigger air pocket. Alucard gasps with relief when he surfaces there, followed by panting, terrifed breaths.]
Hector?
[He's louder than he intends.]
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He comes up and takes a deep breath before he cuts off Alucard's panicking.]
Shhh. I'm fine. I'm human, but I'm not delicate.
[He's known how to swim almost as long as he's known how to walk.
He gives Cesar's back a couple of quick pats, and the pug snorts out some water. He typically breaths, but it's not a necessity so long as Hector is nearby to sustain him.]
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It doesn't stop him from letting out a soft noise of relief.]
Good.
[He's just going to pet Cesar now. To calm down his heart rate.]
The mers just checked in. It'll be a few more minutes yet. When that happens, we could possibly ask them to steer us through the wreck, rather than swimming on our own.
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[It’s too dark for Hector to see now that he’s not working any magic, but they’re in close enough proximity that he can keep track of Alucard by sound and by the stirring of the water when he moves. He’s never out of arm's reach of Cesar, which helps.]
If I hadn’t been alright, would you have given me the kiss of life? You need to be in practice before your Speaker sails in to be your knight in shining robes.
[Because Hector’s options are fretting about their next moves while they wait in the dark, or shit talking Alucard. There’s a clear winner here.]
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--Alucard's pretty sure his blush can be seen in the dark right now.]
Why would you even joke about that in this moment?!
[Uh.
Shit he just implied both parts were valid, didn't he?]
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Because it's something to focus on that isn't impending doom. Don't worry, I'll try to get the ship raised as quick as I can so that you'll have somewhere to pretty yourself up before they get here.
[One day, Alucard is going to stumble upon something that he can tease Hector about mercilessly. Until that day comes, Hector is milking this for all it's worth.]
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[Maybe that will shut him up???? Maybe?!]
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[Hector’s lived among vampire-pirates for the last couple of years. Each group independently is known for their depravity. When put together...well, there is little that shocks Hector now. Kissing a man as objectively handsome as Alucard isn’t something to balk at.]
Come on now, they joke that you are Dracula’s abstinent son, but that’s just the ‘not draining the blood of the innocent’, right?
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We're not letting you die without even kissing someone before. That would be too pathetic to suffer. If we go down, get to the surface, turn into mist, and get out of here. Don't worry about me, I've at least lived during my short, mortal life.
[Because it's obvious to him that if Alucard did have some sort of experience to refute Hector's accusations, he would have presented it to save himself this teasing.]
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[Alucard's own tone is just as exasperated, just in the different direction.]
Also frankly Hector, do you believe my father would view anyone as good enough for me to kiss, never mind enter an actual relationship with?
[Is he trying to defend himself here? Oh yes.]
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[Hey, this is filling the time until they can try to surface the ship, so Hector is happy to keep up the debate. He's not the one being ruthlessly teased. Hector would be tempted to offer to remedy the situation, except Alucard is so besotted with the Speaker and is probably saving himself for their marriage.]
I am serious, though. If it comes down to a situation where only one of us can live, I won't fault you for leaving me behind. It's astonishing that we've made it this far still alive.
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[Alucard would give Hector a shove, but he's carrying very precious cargo in the form of Cesar. That's more important than his total lack of dignity.
Look Hector he won't say no to that suggestion.]I will try all routes available to avoid having that happen, Hector. Besides, if I leave you behind, that means Cesar's left behind too. Unacceptable.
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[Hector's not a noble man, but he's not so selfish he'd drag his dog down with him.
He turns his head to listen for an ambient noises, but he can't catch anything.]
Have Isaac's creatures gone? Are we safe to move?
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[The dog is important than most people.]
Let me check.
[Alucard is quiet for a moment, reaching out and--]
He's turned his boat around and is departing as we speak.
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[Not that Hector is bitter about that. Nope, not at all. He has been trying to keep his breathing shallow so they don't waste air, but he has to heave a sigh at that.]
When I start to raise the ship, have the crew position themselves near the holes. They'll need to plug them up as soon as the water drains.
[Undead limbs will work as stoppers until they can do the actual repairs on the ship's walls.]
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[Is that being over-paranoid? Sure is! Does Alucard care right now? Nope!]
But understood. Do you wish to continue tormenting me?
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[It would be a hard job any time, but especially when he is running on fumes like he is now. No rest for the wicked.]
It's not tormenting, it's teasing. [The difference being that the source is a friend, not a foe. It's the kind of thing Alucard might not get, with his lack of experience.]
Perhaps just a little more, and then I need to conserve the rest of my energy. Come here and take Cesar for me.
[And when Alucard is drawn close to take the dog, Hector will seize the collar of Alucard's jacket and tug him down to touch their lips together. Just, you know, in case they die, so Alucard's sad deprived ghost doesn't haunt the seas.]
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[Alucard's sure that the air can last, although he's looking forward to being less soggy in the near future. He'd kill for his own ship's hair dryer once they're surfaced, warm air drying soaked skin and hair. All that's going to happen in the next few hours is he's going to be a salt encrusted mess.]
It seems to me a very subtle difference. [Yeah, nailed it there.
But you know, taking care of the dog. That's important, and Alucard's hands are out to take the pug when--
--well.
As first kisses go, the circumstances are extraordinary. Very salty, low on air, there's a dog in the middle, and an additional bit of force. Which actually feels about right for the point where Alucard is in his life.
No one should be surprised that while Alucard doesn't quite kiss back, he's let out a soft surprised noise when he pulls away. There's an undercurrent of delight in there too.]
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There, now you're a man of the world. It's not like your father can want to kill me any more than he already does.
[Back to teasing, so that neither of them dwell on the moment and overthink it. Hector paddles back a little bit and finds a hand-hold so he doesn't have to expend more energy than necessary keeping himself above water.]
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Flawless logic, really.
[Except now Alucard has an armful of pug. And one particular question.]
Was that particularly luke warm in terms of skin contact?
[It feels like the kind of thing one should be aware of in general for the future.]
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'Lukewarm'? I was trying to make sure you didn't fall into a maidenly swoon from the shock. There's practically a language of kissing. That was 'hello', not 'take me now.' If you want a real lesson, you'll need to ask nicely.
[Hector frowns a little into the darkness, hoping that Alucard doesn't presume that that was his best effort.]
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[It's an accidentally ambigious statement about actually repeating this. But never mind that. There's communication from the mer-creatures that Isaac is safely gone, and the ship? The ship can be raised again.]
We're good to go. But we should get ourselves clear by a few feet so that everyone else can do their work. Then climb aboard.
Will you be able to support yourself, or should I offer to hang onto you?
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I'll...need some support when I start to raise the ship.
[He hates it, but admitting it is slightly less mortifying than passing out and drowning when the ship is back above water.]
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I'm going to request they find us all some driftwood to take advantage of as well, since i can't balance you and Cesar very well.
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Have them fetch a couple of barrels from the hold. That's easier to find than driftwood this far off from shore.
[Well, unless Isaac's creatures really made a mess of their work, but he's trying to be optimistic until he can assess the damage firsthand.]
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If Isaac is waiting for them, then he has distance to contend with.
But the task is only partially completed, and Alucard moves so that he is behind Hector, capable of supporting the man the moment he requires it. He's asked one of the mercreatures to hang around just in case, and it's probably for the best.]
Whenever you're ready. Once we're on deck, you need to rest.
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He's too hopelessly soaked to create a spark, so he begins the channeling by flicking the water, sending droplets splashing down with a pale blue glow. It's a symbolic gesture, not a hard action and reaction, to bridge the immaterial and the material worlds.
He reaches out and down to the kracken. She's as tired as he is, though she's been wonderfully loyal in spite of the pains.]
Come. It's time to stretch now. [He whispers, too tired to project the thoughts solely with his power.] You've been brilliant. One last task, then down to the cool, dark depths to rest and feed yourself on little glowing fish.
[It makes it easier for both master and creation if their goals align. She wants to retreat, and knowing that he wants that too, she doesn't fight his suggestion.
She untangles her tentacles from around the ship and slips her body beneath it. She sucks in water and sends it jetting out, propelling her forward. Hector does not direct, other than reminding her of the goal; the water is her domain, and she knows her strengths better than he. She pushes, and the ship rises, then begins to sink, and she pushes again. It's a slow, draining process.
Finally, the water bubbles and churns, and the ship begins to emerge from the waves. Hector thinks to the ship is rocking strangely, until he realizes that no, his vision has gone fuzzy. Water streams out of the holes Alucard punched into the sides. Hector's last exhausted thought is, 'the crew better damned well be ready', and then he slumps against the barrel.]
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Seeing the ship rise again is a little miracle. Alucard directs the crew to plug up all of the holes as quickly as they're able and--
--shit. Hector.
Alucard rushes forward, and there's a little too much time supporting Hector's weight in the middle of the water, the dhampir playing the all too important balancing game until there's the all clear to return to the deck.
When Hector does come back into the realm of consciousness, he'll find the little pug next to him, and Alucard's very soggy coat and shirt acting as the worst possible pillow under his head. Alucard's laid him up on the deck beside the ship's wheel, and he's continuing to direct the crew through the first rays of the morning sun.
It's Cesar's sharp bark of joy that draws Alucard's attention, and while he doesn't move from his post, he does give acknowledgement.]
Good morning. We've survived.
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Cesar pounces on his face and licks him, so there's that. Hector shoos him away and rubs the tips of his fingers in circles against his temples.]
...morning. Is the shirtlessness for my benefit, or are you expecting your Speaker to come early?
[The sass hasn't gone anywhere, which should be a sign unto Alucard that Hector's still alive and kicking...or at least alive and limping along.]
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[Alucard whistles for a member of the crew to come over and take control of the wheel. It allows Alucard to walk over and crouch down beside Hector, that way he's not shouting in the other man's direction.]
I have all the bedding, blankets, and such drying right now. It should be done soon.
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[The command of a pirate ship does not stop with a hangover, not even a magical one. Hector tries to guess at the ship’s speed from the rocking of the deck and the rustling of the sails. What he gets is, ‘we are moving’.
He pushes himself up with his elbows so he can look around.]
Did we lose anyone other than the decoy ship’s pilot?
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[Alucard sighs, and when Hector does sit up, he tries to carefully guide the man a few inches over. There's a wall there, and it's easier to prop oneself up against that at the moment.]
No further losses. The repairs are...manageable. They'll be manageable until we reach our destination, and then we'll need to make some decisions about how we move forward. I don't know if if the boat will survive a journey further than our intended destination.
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That was a risk.... So long as she can get us to Death Island, we can't ask more of her than that. A ship isn't meant to sink and rise again.
[Although neither are people, but look at the crew around here.
Hector doesn't get very far in his effort to stand.]
Well, we're not going to impress the Belmont with our vessel, but hopefully you can seduce the Speaker into giving us a ride home if the Belmont can't be persuaded to lend us aid.
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She's already gone above and beyond the call of duty for us. I don't know if we could demand more.
[Right. Standing's out. Alucard makes sure he's comfy there, braced against the wall.]
Are you telling me to use my body as a bargaining chip?
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...I just need a few minutes....
[He stares up at Alucard, his body pale in the morning light.]
Well, unless you think the Belmonts will let us live peacefully on their island, we need some way to get back to shore. If you have other ideas, feel free to share.
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I haven’t had the luxury of time to think of other ideas. I’ll start in the next few minutes.
[There’s then a small, relieved sigh.]
The plan worked, Hector. That may be a good sign.
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[More likely, it's dumb luck that's gotten them through, and not something he can count on to hold out.
He starts to chuckle, unwillingly.]
We did fool Isaac, though. There is nothing I wouldn't pay to see his face if he ever finds out that we were literally right beneath him, helpless.
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[Maybe she just likes the weirdest pets of all made by Hector's hand. There. That's the theory and he's sticking to it.]
Well, perhaps in time we will get that satisfaction. I'd tell you to go into your quarters and rest, but anything resembling a mattress is unuseable now.
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[Hector settles more comfortably against the ship's side. If his bed is still soaked through, he assumes any hammock he hangs will be similarly dampened.
He resolves to give himself an hour before he forces himself up to relieve Alucard at the wheel. He drowses, and when he stirs again, he forces himself up and to the helm with swaying steps.]
Any more time shirtless in the morning sunlight, dhampir, and you will end up sunburned. That is no look to win over the Speaker.
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[Alucard is quiet as he works. He pauses to go below deck and see if any of the hammocks can be dried out and used, and there's some luck there that there are three viable candidates so long as they're kept int he sun. Alucard manages a way to string them up in the sun, and then he resumes the work.
When the hour passes, Alucard is unconvinced. Hector's movement is still unsteady.]
While I appreciate the concern, I'll go sunburnt if it means you can steady yourself with ease.
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I don't have the physically steer the boat. I'm well enough to supervise.
[His stomach grumbles, hinting at his ulterior motive for freeing Alucard from command.]
Our food supply is intact, isn't it?
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[Alucard hears that grumble though, then nods. He says no more as he heads off to the galley, but his return? That's much too quick, and his face is so, so grim.]
I'm sorry to report that the food supply, save a few things, is wrecked.
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You’re joking, right?
[And thus the wheel of fortune turns. God, Hector hopes this is Alucard’s idea of a hilarious prank.]
We at least have water, right? We won’t last long without it.
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[And here's what's worse:]
None. We have to hope tomorrow's meeting will go well, or at least the Speakers will take pity on us.
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Fuck. We should have taken our chances running. We’re going to be at the mercy of a stranger’s charity.
[Hector and his trust issues are not a fan, not a fan at all. But they have no supplies, a busted boat, and no other choice.]
For Crypysleeper- Vlad never accounts for anyone's horniness for his son, we know this.
He can only imagine, wistfully, what Vlad Ţepeş's laboratories in his distant moving castle must be like. Vlad had told him of it when he visited, and Hector had felt like a child, begging for just one more story before bed. He had wandered quite a bit before settling down east of Rhodes, but he'd never met anyone like the man they called Dracula.
And Hector is resigned, now that the vampire has returned home, that he will never see him again. Maybe, if Hector is lucky, if he can make an exceptional enough breakthrough in his work, he can send a letter and start up a written correspondence with Vlad.
His current project concerns re-stimulating the growth of flesh on a reanimated specimen; specifically, he wants to see if he can help little Cesar regrow the flesh and fur and little pads of his bony paw. Hector is forever having to clean and mend the limb, and while the pup's clicking footsteps are charming when he dances around Hector's feet, he wants to heal him. He's neglected his supper in the pursuit of this, and if the flickering of the flames in the candles in the room are any indication, he is in the process of neglecting his bed time as well.
Hector drags a hand across his face and rubs his eyes. There is no force on earth that can distract him from his work.
Probably.]
Re: For Crypysleeper- Vlad never accounts for anyone's horniness for his son, we know this.
This is a trial run. To see if Alucard even wants to move beyond the safety of the castle walls and if traveling agrees with him. He's rode horses and wagons, spoken with his countrymen, with the Ottomans, with Greeks, all in service of reaching this isolated place. There have been pleasurable parts and deeply annoying ones, and Alucard is unsure exactly how he feels about the matter.
But he has reached his destination. His father's description of Hector's home is exacting, and Alucard knows that what happens next is up to his hands.
He knocks on the door twice. Then adds, just in case:]
I come on the authority of Vlad Ţepeş.
[It will either open a door or whoever lives there now will have no idea who Alucard is speaking of.]
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Given the hour, and the work yet to be done, Hector is prepared to ignore the knock, until those words.
The door to the cabin flings open, and Hector is there, in the doorway, eager for whatever news the messenger bears from Vlad.
And immediately, he regrets not having taken a moment to comb back his hair or wash the grime and blood off his hands, because the man in the doorway must be some kind of incubus. The ancient Greek sculptors would weep for such a model.
It is either some sort of trap or he's collapsed in his lab, dreaming.
Behind him, Cesar yips and hobbles past him on three normal paws and one bone limb with faint hints of muscle tissue beginning to develop. The dog paws at the visitor's pants leg, demanding attention.
Hector...should probably say something. Anything.]
Yes? [Even this caught off guard, he has enough presence of mind to not immediately invite the stranger in, at least. Although if he has to die of something, being devoured by this man would certainly be a way to go.]
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Hector is slender, but that may be from eating poorly. He's in the midle of work, going by the blookd and grime. He...has a dog? Alucard's gaze goes down to Cesar, and oh, yes. That's necromancy. For sure.
Alucard has a single leather travel bag over his shoulder. He reaches into it, pulling out a sealed letter that he offers to Hector. The seal is of a deep, blood red color and the rest is very much that of Vlad Tepes.]
The letter goes into depth, but my father would like to invite you to our home for a time.
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Just a moment.
[He ducks back into the house to grab a candle. Whoever the stranger is, he is not entirely human, and has better night vision than he does. Hector doesn't bother closing the door behind him. A vampire or a demon would not be able to cross the threshold without an invitation or a spell to remove his wards.
It is only 'paranoia' if the fear is unjustified.
Hector is at the doorway again, candle in hand, and he takes up the letter from the stranger. A reverent finger traces the seal before he breaks it.
Conscious of the eyes of the visitor, Hector tries to keep a stone face as he reads. By the second line, his jaw has dropped. The letter is undeniably from Vlad, and it is as the stranger...as is Vlad's son says. His lips twitch, and he has to consciously fight to not smile like a fool.]
Right...ok, come in. Sorry. I have to be cautious, you understand.
[He holds the letter in his hands with the care a priest might use for a sacred text, awestruck and a little overwhelmed.]
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He offers out a hand to be sniffed, and once there's approval, Alucard's long, slender fingers begin to scratch Cesar right behind the ear. In the best spot, because Alucard knows where the best spot is. Wolf knowledge skills.
Alucard is just as content to keep showering Cesar in affection as he is to be inside and at journey's end. His eyes meet Hector's once the invitation is given and he nods once in acknowledgement.]
I understand. One doesn't live so far out of the way without due cause.
[So he straightens up and walks in.]
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of manyweakeness. This is absolutely unfair. Did Vlad do this on purpose to ensure Hector would take him up on his offer?]Have you eaten? Do you eat?
[Hector steps back inside behind his guest and looks around his cabin with fresh eyes. Minimal, because he has little need or want for material possessions. Everything he has is functional, and most of it is for his research. There are a few precious books and scrolls he has managed to obtain throughout the years, tools for taking apart and piecing back together, and, of course, more than the regular amount of animal parts.
His table is mostly covered with his notes on his muscle-regrowth trials, which are a mixture of notes in a Greek chicken scratch and sketch. It is so very apparent that Hector is not set up to entertain.]
You can put your bag...wherever, I guess.
[He shuffles through some cabinets and shelves and comes back with a bottle of wine, half a loaf of bread, and a few odd apples he picked while he was out walking his pets.
Cesar, the friendliest of his little friends, follows Alucard as he walks around. The others are more cautious, and glowing blue eyes stare out from the shadows of the room, gauging the new potential threat.]
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I do, yes. A human diet is fine.
[Alucard is careful to clarify that fact, as he knows his father's letter does include the explanation that his son requires no special diet and can manage in the sunlight without any problem at all.
It's such a small place. Functional, and lacking so much of the kind of lab space that Alucard has grown up around. He judges nothing there, and simply settles for putting his bag down and out of the way near the door.]
Thank you.
[The bread looks fine enough, but Alucard doesn't dare to sit down. He doesn't want to get food over Hector's notes.]
Does your friend here have a name of his own?
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Yes, his name is Cesar. Unless you cause a ruckus, you'll see his siblings once you sit down and eat.
[Hector could order them to emerge, but he prefers to let them make their own decisions in accordance to his nature. Dracula's son has, thus far, been quiet and polite; their curiosity will not be long in outweighing their fear.]
Did you have to travel far to get here? Your father's castle moves, so I don't know what your starting destination was.
[It is one of the reasons he figured he would never be able to seek Vlad out; no one ever knows where Castlevania will be at any given time.]
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Cesar. A very good name.
[So the dog gets one more scratch behind the ears, before the full of Alucard's attention settles on Hector.]
I've been on the road for a week. I expect to take that long to return which...am I incorrect in saying that you will be joining me?
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Yes, of course. Is there time for me to pack? And I'll need to give my pets an examination before we head out, to make sure they are fit to travel.
[He pauses.]
The invitation extends to them as well, yes?
[God, he hopes so, because the only thing that might shake his resolve to return to his mentor's side is if he would have to abandon his pets to do so.
He pours a glass of wine for Alucard and passes it to him without meeting his eye.]
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[Alucard hides his own weariness from the road well, eyes settling on the wine bottle.]
And as far as I know, yes, the invitation extends to them. But you will need to devise a means to travel with them and not draw attention to us.
[He takes the glass in hand and then sips, proving that at the very least this vampire drinks...wine.]
Thank you.
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I can be ready by the morning.
[It is not the first all-nighter he's pulled, and it won't be his last. Now that his guest is settled and given the meager meal Hector has to offer, Hector ducks into his tiny bedroom and straightens it up.
When he returns to the living area, his pets have begun to emerge, watching Alucard with glowing eyes. Two dogs, a cat, a fox, and a hawk, all with marks of their undead nature somewhere on their bodies.]
I trust your father would not have sent you if you had any allergies to dander, but if any of them make pests of themselves, just shoo them away. It's not much, but there's a bed through that doorway. You can sleep there tonight.
[He nods to another door set in the back of the cabin.]
There's a well out back. I'll bring in some water so you can wash up.
[That is one thing he remembers from his own time spent traveling in his younger days- the grime of the road.]
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I promise you, I'll be fine. And you don't need to give up your bed for me. I'm sure you are aware of my father's abilities to transform, and I can do much the same.
[However, at the offer of water, a little bit of light does flicker and catch in Alucard's eyes.]
That would be quite welcome. Thank you.
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[Is it too soon to propose marriage? Being stunningly handsome is one thing, but being able to transform into a giant wolf or a bat is so much better. Hector steps toward Alucard, then forcibly stops himself.]
No, don't show me now, I'll get nothing done.
[Tomorrow, tomorrow for sure. Hector steps out of the back door and comes back with a bucket of clean water and a cloth, which he sits down on the floor beside Alucard's chair. On his way back up, he gives Cesar a quick ruffle behind the ears.]
I don't mind if you take the bed. I'll be up packing anyways.
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I'll wait until we are closer to the castle.
[Closer to the castle means far safer. And so Alucard keeps showering attention on Cesar, until clean water arrives. He considers the stuff for a moment, then nods.]
Well, if you insist.
[Hand on the bucket handle, Alucard stands slowly.]
You don't mind if I close the door for a few moments?
[He's clearly doing a lot of washing up from the road.]
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Go ahead. You can treat this house as your own.
[Hector just...is not going to think about the state of undress the dhampir will be behind that door. This is fine. Um. Pet inspections. He should do that.
While Alucard is getting himself cleaned up, Hector begins to rotate through the pets, lifting them one at a time to stand on the table so he can inspect their pelts, paws, extremities. There is some minor repair work to be done, accompanied by the sound of a hammer strike and glowing blue light.]
You're ready as you'll ever be to go back into the wild. [He tells the fox, stroking its long coppery back. He's done some patchwork on it to get it whole again, and the grafts have taken well.]
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[And with that, Alucard takes the bucket of water into Hector's room and closes the door. It's not the luxury of heated water through pipes like he has at home, but it's more than enough for Alucard to scrub off all the grit and grime of the road. He takes his time, starting with his face, then arms and legs, and then shedding his shirt and trousers for just long enough to clean off the worst of what has accumulated there.
It takes him fifteen minutes or so to be cleaned to his level of satisfaction, and when Alucard does re-emerge, it is with his hair lightly and messily braided back so that sleep can be an option for the evening.
But he is careful not to disturb Hector's work. He instead walks the bucket of water outside and discards it, knowing full well it's too dirty to have a second life. When that errand is done, he returns with the empty bucket.]
Where would you like me to place this?
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By the door is fine. I'll need to fetch more water in the morning.
[Alucard is being polite. Hector's hospitality is nothing to write home to Daddy Dracula about; he is too caught up in his work to prepare for hypothetical guests. Now that one such guest is here, he is scrambling to do what he can.]
How are we going to be traveling, once we reach the mainland? I have a cart I can use to get the animals to the nearest port. If we're going to be traveling by foot from there, I may need to invest in a beast of burden.
[Does 'invest' mean buying or making? Who can say?]
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We'll travel by wagon along regular routes, and then walk for a time. The castle will meet us at an appropriate spot.
[Meaning that there's no need for a cart, but there is a need for transportation.]
How many companions will be joining us?
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He points to Cesar and then to the second dog, a black Cretan Hound that has curled up beside him.]
Two. Cesar and Antonius. The others came from the wild, and are fit to return to it.
[Antonius is a useful companion. A hunting dog and a guard dog, which Hector would likely need more if his traveling companion was not a dhampir. Cesar, on the other hand, is coming because only Hector loves him, and because the silly little thing could never survive on his own. He will need to be carried for basically the entire journey, and Hector will not go without him.]
Don't let me keep you up. I'll try to pack quietly.
[In terms of physical possessions that need to come along with them, he has only a few sets of clothes, his necromancer's tools, and a few odd and ends for the dogs; the rest of Hector's night is going to spent trying to sort through years of notes to wrangle it down to what will fit into his bag.]
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I'll defer to your judgement on all these matters.
[And that's all he'll say on that. A yawn escapes, and Alucard knows better than to fight exhasution.]
Thank you. I'll see you in the morning.
[Alucard retreats into the bedroom. Perhaps it isn't surprising that the son of Dracula's sleeping form doesn't move at all. He's more statue than man. Easy to mistake for a corpse. But he does get himself well tangled and settled in what blankets are in the bed first, and his hair seems to trail after him.]
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It’s hard to breathe, and Hector sneaks back out, silently scolding himself that Lord Vlad’s son would absolutely be off limits. There is no point in even looking.
Morning finds Hector asleep on the floor in front of the little fire place, wrapped up in a spare blanket and surrounded by his pets.
Hector had had all the best intentions of only napping for an hour once he’d finished sorting his notes. He’d planned on being up at dawn to prepare for their departure, but here he is, still asleep.]
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...he can't say he's surprised to find Hector curled up in front of the fire place. He does nothing to disturb the man. Instead Alucard focuses on remembering where Hector pulled food from last night, and scrounges up a little bit of cheese, more wine, and staleing bread that he knows probably has only a day left until mold kicks in.
Only once the table is laid out and water is brought in from outside that Alucard dares to disturb Hector. Crouches down and places a soft hand on Hector's shoulder.]
Good morning.
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It is hearing a voice as he is shaken that jolts Hector out of his sleep in confusion.]
Wha?
[He sees Alucard, angelic in the morning light, and his mind races to catch up with his startled heartbeat.]
Right. Fuck. Sorry, I overslept. Let me get you...
[He looks past Alucard and sees breakfast already arranged on the table, because Vlad's son is infuriatingly perfect and Hector is The Worst Host Ever.]
...never mind.
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[Alucard takes a few steps back, and his eyes move to Cesar.]
Forgive me, I wasn't sure what your friends needed in the morning.
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I'll be fine. I keep strange hours.
[He stands, and the animals dance around his feet on his way to the back door. They rush out. The wild ones will see to their own needs. The dogs go out to run around the well and sniff at various landmarks.]
They don't need as much as they did in their first lives, but they can eat. Cesar will beg shamelessly for scraps when he comes back in. Harden your heart.
[Because he's noticed you melting when you look at him, Alucard.]
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[It could be a joke, but Alucard's a little too matter of fact with that statement. He himself goes towards the table, because he's hungry and would prefer to get going soon. Still, watching the rush of animals just go. It's a joyful thing.
Once settled, Alucard tears a hunk of bread off for hmself.]
I'll try my best. Do you have everything you need to travel with?
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[He leaves the door open and comes to sit down for breakfast. He'll leave the doors open when he leaves, so that the pets staying behind will have a safe place to come home to.
He picks at the food Alucard set out, too anxious about starting the journey to have much of an appetite. This is probably why Vlad sent Alucard to fetch him; because Hector is an idiot who can't be trusted to take care of himself.]
Yes, I got everything together before I laid down. Once we eat and I get my friends settled, we can go.
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[Alucard feels that it's only fair to let the young man know what home's clock is like. If his mother's not at the clinic, it's afternoon to evening hours. If she is, then it's far more oriented to the hours of the living.
The dhampir eats, eyes moving up and over to Hector every so often.]
We can take whatever isn't eaten on the road with us, if you've no appetite.
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[Such a thing is a miracle to Hector. Vlad had chuckled at his expression when he'd told him about some of the castle's amenities. Right now, he taps his foot with nervous energy.]
Eat your fill, and we can pack the rest.
[The dogs come back in and Hector, in spite of what he told Alucard about being strong in the face of those puppy dog eyes, tosses scraps to the two greedy mouths. The tapping of their nails against the wooden floor as they dance around fills the quiet cabin.]
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[Alucard sounds proud about that, borderline smug. His father's home is an absolute achievement of science, and to be there is an absolute fortune.
But he does eat his fill, clearing his plate. That means no scraps for the dogs, although Alucard smiles when he watches Hector give in and be defeated in front of those puppy eyes.
Then that's it. He stands, and looks to Hector.]
Whenever you're ready.
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The hawk won’t return here, but the fox will until she finds a new burrow, and the cat definitely will.
[Hector explains as he slips a scrap of blanket over Antonius’ back, covering the fatal gouge in his side where he’d been pierced by a wild pig’s tusk. He ties it into place like a saddle blanket. It might look a little odd to a passer by, but the weather is turning chilly enough that they hopefully won’t question it further.
Cesar gets a strip of bandage wrapped around his paw. Hector doesn’t bother with his head yet; the little menace will wiggle out of them long before they encounter any populated areas.
He wraps a strip of cloth around his chest and tied it the way some of the young mothers in the villages do to hold their babies. He takes up his bag, the scoops up Cesar and cradles him in the cloth. The dog pops his head and front paws out, panting in excitement for whatever adventure awaits him.]
Such is life with pets. We can be off now.
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He walks out in time to see Cesar now in his little doggy backpack, and for the first time there is a real smile on his face. Small, yes, but it is equal parts delighted and endeared to the scene in front of him. Alucard lets out a soft laugh, and then brushes past the two in order to get to his own bag.]
Very well. Let us begin.
[Begin means get a boat to a more major port, and from that port gain access to another ship that will go so far as Istanbul. Alucard knows that sea travel is risky, but once in Istanbul oh, there are options aplenty.
He has money, which buys them their own little bit of space on a ship that's a healthy mix of passengers and cargo. The room is claustrophobic, but there's two hammocks and the illusion of privacy, so what else is there to fuss with?
They have five days to port. Days Alucard spends on deck watching the ocean go by, and nights showering both dogs with affection if Hector isn't. Like now, with the pug content on his lap.]
((Figured that this would be a good jump to smoochin point.))
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In the evenings, the rest of the ship is forgotten in the safety of their little room. The torture is much sweeter. Alucard smiling. Alucard quietly laughing over Cesar's antics. Alucard lavishing praise and affection on his dogs, which sends Hector simultaneously into jealousy and weak-kneed infatuation. Hector should not want his mentor's son, but Hector is human, and humans are weak.
Hector returns to their quarters for the evening, and seeing Alucard rubbing Cesar's chin with such gentle joy, he cracks.
He seats himself beside Alucard and lets one hand bump against Alucard's as he strokes the dog in his lap.]
Careful, if you spoil him too much, he'll love you better than me.
[There's obvious teasing in his tone. He pauses a moment, as if assessing the room, then casually remarks...]
It's grown warm in our little room. Aren't you hot with all that hair on your neck?
[Emboldened from the madness born of this torture, Hector abandons his petting of Cesar to stroke a hand through Alucard's golden locks, in the guise of brushing the strands behind his ear.]
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She'll be glad to have him back. That much he knows.
But also through observation, he has caught what he thinks is something more affectionate from Hector. He's not sure, and it has seemed inappropriate to ask. They're already in close quarters, and they'll be in close quarters even upon returning home. Misinterpretation could cast a dark shadow over Dracula's plans.
So the bump against his hand definitely feels like a confirmation of suspicions. The statement gets a wry little noise.]
I'm fairly sure that's impossible, based on his circumstances.
[Forgemasters can instill loyalty, after all. And Alucard is far too new to Cesar's afterlife anyway. There will always be Hector.
He opens his mouth to respond to the question, but far too late. Hector's already made a move, and at this point, the intention is obvious. What Alucard feels as heat in his own cheeks is a faint trace of red to a trained eye.
Alucard fails to consider that Hector is the kind of person who'd notice that.]
Mm. I hadn't noticed, but that is a little better. Thank you.
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He made a dhampir blush.
...perhaps Alucard is not so out of reach as he thought.
This is a terrible idea and Hector should be careful to do nothing to jeopardize the opportunity to study under Lord Dracula.
Those golden strands of hair are silken soft beneath his fingers as he strokes again, already disregarding his mind's warnings against this.]
Let me braid it for you?
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So he nods, a little too quick.]
It probably needs it.
[Alucard has only worn it pulled back while on deck. It is also so much easier to focus on that fact rather than how new all of this is to him. The faster heartbeat, the red in his cheeks, the sudden threat of being overwhelmed.
He doesn't shift away quickly. Wrong message. Rude. Instead Alucard half scoots so that he's diagonal instead, leaving Hector plenty of hair access for braiding.]
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Tell me, is it just you and your parents at the castle?
[Tell him about his competition, Alucard. He begins to twine the sections together, careful not to tug too tightly and ruin the moment. Perhaps later, if this seduction attempt does not end in tears.]
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[Which is to say that there's no competition, buddy.
Alucard's shoulders slump forward a little. It's nice, having someone else fussing with his hair. Relaxing. Soothing.]
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Yes, I heard she is quite the doctor. Your father couldn't help but sing her praises.
[The braided tail grows longer in Hector's hands, exposing the pale column of Alucard's aristocratic neck.]
But that sounds lonely for you. No one with whom to interact more...deeply.
[He leans forward and presses his lips to the skin he just exposed, because no one ever accused him of being subtle.]
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[There's such fondness in his voice for the memory. Alucard has seen other couples in Lupu, but none of them act like his parents do. Head over heels and absolutely stupid for each other. He can't count the number of times he's seen his father just sit back and admire Lisa simply for being.
It's a memory he almost gets lost in, until the kiss to the back of his neck brings Alucard back to reality. There's a soft, surprised noise, and Alucard half turns his head towards the other man.]
Hector?
[The intonation is surprised and unsure. Trying to figure out intention.]
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But that is not where his focus really lies at the moment. He lets the braid fall from his hands into Alucard's back, and as Alucard turns toward him, he leans forward whisper into the dhampir's ear.]
Are you lonely, Alucard?
[You don't have to be... he tries to convey with the barest touch of his lips against the earlobe.]
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Alucard's blush is back. He's sure that Hector can hear the dhampir's thundering heartbeat as well, even as the rest of Alucard points out that such a thought is plainly ridiculous.
The question has implications. But the dhampir's never been kissed or navigated a situation like this before, so it takes time to find an answer.]
I don't know if I've been around enough people to truly say.
[There's nerves underlining all of this.]
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Well, we have a hypothesis, that you are lonely. The logical course of action is to devise a test, and proceed with rigorous scientific trials.
['Rigorous scientific trials' should not be a pick-up line, but here there be nerds.
Hector brings his fingers up to Alucard's chin and tilts his face toward Hector's.]
The night is young. What say you to getting to the bottom of this?
[If there is going to be a refusal, better to get it out in the open now, before Hector embarrasses himself any further with terrible innuendo.]
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Scientific flirting does get a soft laugh out of him, and it is gentle and terribly awkward. He leans into it all the same, quite literally as Hector's fingers meet his chin.]
Perhaps not overly rigorously? This is new territory for me.
[CONGRATS HECTOR you get to be his first kiss.]
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[Hector moves closer until he can murmur against Alucard’s lips:]
How could anyone who’s met you resist kissing you senseless?
[Perhaps Vlad and Lisa are responsible, shielding their son’s virtue in their castle stronghold. Hector at least has the rare good judgement to not bring up the parents of the man he’s about to smooch.
He wants to do everything to and with Alucard, to thoroughly explore, but this is only the first trial (of many, he desperately hopes). He presses their lips together, moving gently and keeping the first contact chaste.]
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And Alucard, ever aloof, ever arm's length from the world? It hasn't been a problem.
The chasteness is a blessing, because it shows how little Alucard knows. He does kiss back after a moment or so passes, but there's hesitation. A lack of clarity with how all of this goes. A fumble, because well, everyone learns this by doing.]
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He has never been a teacher before, but he is finding the experience highly rewarding. He trails a hand down Alucard's side, just feeling the shape of him and basking in this closeness.]
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He's not sure if he's meant to be looking at Hector or not, but instinct sees Alucard's eyes flutter closed as the kiss deepens. Easier to focus on other senses and actions, but beyond opening his mouth just a little bit more, he's unsure what the next step is.
Alucard's cool to the touch, even through the fabric. As for his own hands, they remain on his own lap, but twitch. Certain they should be doing something.]
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His tongue brushes Alucard's lips, warning of his intrusion before taking the invitation of that open mouth to explore. He is going to assume that Alucard is like him, a naturally curious student who learns by barrelling in and doing.]
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He moves into them slowly instead, or at least he is in this situation. Little steps, adjusting to a warm bath. Letting Hector's tongue in, but not wanting to move too far beyond that. Staying still because Alucard knows how sharp his fangs are, and he doesn't want to cut Hector's tongue.
One hand moves. Up, coming to rest on Hector's cheek. Holding it as gingerly as one can, and the other resting at Hector's hip. It's a tentative grip, but it's there all the same.]
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His tongue maps Alucard's mouth, tracing the length of the fangs and carefully feeling the points. How many can say they've touched a vampire's fangs without shedding blood?
Hector bumps his tongue against Alucard's, then withdraws it slowly, beckoning Alucard to follow it back and show Hector what he is learning.]
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But as Hector's tongue makes expectation's clear, Alucard breaks the kiss. His hands stay where they are, but the reason becomes apparent the moment his lips leave Hector's. He's more than a little breathless, and even dhampirs need air.
His eyes flicker open for a moment.]
Are you always so bold?
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I am a self-taught necromancer. Boldness is a prerequisite.
[He withdraws his hand from Alucard's side and brushes a hand through his own silver waves of hair, which feel too hot against his skin.]
But if it is too much for you, I won't press.
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It's slightly overwhelming, but only for the newness of it all.
[Alucard's hand sinks down from Hector's cheek, but the one on his side? That one remains.]
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unless Dracula's castle counts.But Hector's not hearing a 'no' or a 'stop'. That sounds rather like a 'proceed with caution'.]
Do you like it?
[He leans in to press a kiss to the corner of Alucard's mouth, then his cheek, a preview for the next module in the kissing lesson he offers.]
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It counts, you're a grad student Hector and you're definitely making out with the professor's son there.There's a response on the tip of Alucard's tongue, but that goes when Hector moves again. Gets a soft exhale instead.]
I need more data to make a determination.
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Ain’t no rule in the syllabus says he CAN’T make out with the professor’s son.Hector might have been offended about the uncertainty, except from Alucard, it is both good scientific practice and also an invitation to continue. ‘Inconclusive’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘bad’.
He traces a path to Alucard's ear with feather-light kisses, then down the column of his neck. No biting or sucking yet, just more kissing data points for Alucard to map and correlate in his mind.]
A second trial, then.
[He returns to Alucard’s lips, letting his tongue tease Alucard’s once more.]
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PROFESSOR DIDN'T THINK HE HAD TO MAKE THIS RULE HECTOR.With Hector's lips on his neck, Alucard knows his heart beat can be felt. That it's racing. But more than that, that the sharp sudden intake of breath has probably reverberated against Hector. Because surprise, the dhampir is a stereotype.
Better that they resume where they were then. And this time, Alucard's quicker on the uptake. Parts his lips, but then remembers the invitation from before. Nudges his tongue against Hector's to ask for permission to return all that exploration.]
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Honestly, it’s a life lesson about loop holes.Oh, Hector will be back for that neck later. His skittish dhampir must be handled with care. They’ll work their way up to necking.
Hector smiles into Alucard’s mouth as his student mimics Hector’s technique. Perhaps they are ready to advance.
Hector presses closer and lets his tongue dance with Alucard’s. His hands sneak around the dhampir, one at the back of Alucard’s head and the other rubbing little circles into the small of his back. That way, when he pulls back for air, disheveled and devilishly smug, he knows Alucard won’t go far.]
Has anyone ever told you what a quick study you are?
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HE TRUSTED YOU HECTOR YOU ARE GETTING SUCH A LECTURE LATER!!!Alucard tilts just a little when Hector's hand comes to rest at the back of his head. There's something about the sensation that encourages any tension that might be in Alucard to just go slack. So he does, tongue carefully and studiously seeing what feels best against Hector's.]
A great many times in my life.
[It's said with a very faint smile on his lips. In contrast to Hector's smugness is a softer contentedness, because Alucard had registered what this particular rite of passage is and that it's an important moment for anyone.]
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Lecture later, smooching now.]You'd be insufferable if I didn't like you so much.
[He doesn't really think about what he's saying, because he's equally driven by two heads at the moment. He does like Alucard, a lot.]
Stop me if I go too fast. I won't be offended.
[While Alucard is relaxed and content, Hector is going to nuzzle his face back into Alucard's neck, testing out those stereotypes. He has an experiment of his own going on, to see what noises he can draw out of his quiet traveling companion.]
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YOU'RE GOING ON DOUBLE SECRET PROBATION YOUNG MAN!!!]Insufferable?
[The question is genuinely confused, because how? Alucard doesn't understand. He needs to be around people more, clearly.
He's about to ask a second clarifying question, but Hector's intent is clear. It means that there's no time for questions, just a second short breath as Hector's face brushes against Alucard's neck. And here? Here there seems to be a little bit of instinct, because the dhampir's head tilts back to allow for better access. One hand threads into Hector's hair, searching for something to grab onto. His other? That one gathers the fabric of Hector's shirt in hand, feeling at what's underneath.
Not enough tiddy.]S'good.
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If Vlad wants to protect his son's virtue, he shouldn't send him out to collect godless youths, sheesh!Hector looks up from Alucard's neck.]
You do know you're perfect, right? Humans can't measure up.
[He shudders as Alucard gropes at his chest. God, he wants to worship that perfect, inhuman body. He ducks his head back down and sucks at the pulse. Any mark he leaves on Alucard's skin won't last long, but that doesn't mean Hector won't have the time of his life leaving them there.]
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Vlad did NOT ANTICIPATE THIS PROBLEM you're so grounded Hector]Mmmm?
[The noise is a soft vibration in Alucard's chest, one that grows as Hector decides that Alucard's thundering pulse is the far more exciting thing to pay attention to.
But the emphasis on being human, or not quiet, that does give Alucard pause.]
Have you measured every person on this planet??
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Vlad needs to let these two crazy kids live their best horny lives.Hector huffs out a sigh and releases Alucard's neck.]
I've encountered a decent sample size. You're infinitely better to kiss than they are.
[Hector is trying to keep it light, because nobody wants a make-out session to devolve into a philosophical debate.
His hand slides down Alucard's back, past his hip and along his outer thigh. Who cares about anyone else's measure in this moment?]
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Vlad disagrees Hector you are here to STUDY not seduce his son!!!]Now that sounds false. I presume they're more experienced than I am.
[While no one would want it, if anyone could pull it off? Alucard could.
Happily, that's not the point. The point is where Hector's hands have moved to now, and the consideration that it prompts. There's a breathy sigh, and the hand on Hector's chest leaves so it can rest atop Hector's. The pressure is firmer than anything else.]
I think I'm overwhelmed enough.
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Experience isn't the most important factor.
[Hector isn't prone to talking about feelings, but he's not going to let someone as exquisite as Alucard downplay his value.]
You love my dogs. I'd choose you over the most skilled lover for that alone.
[He scoots back to give Alucard a little breathing room. If that is all Alucard wants this evening, Hector will be content with the kisses he's already stolen.]
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[The tone may be incredulous, but it's laced with a faint laugh. Alucard does not know Hector well enough yet, but somehow? That statement feels the Most Hector a statement would be.
Alucard leans his head back just a little, so it rests against the wall of their room. He knows he was right to call it here. And he'll call it at this point for a while yet.]
What exactly does one do after these moments end
[Besides gently squeeze Hector's hand. That's easy.]
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[Must Love Undead Dogs. That is the first line of Hector's dating profile.
Hector lets out another deep breath, willing his heart to stop thumping so loudly. He is no innocent, but Alucard is attributing to him an expertise he lacks.]
Talk, or sleep, or part ways. It depends.
[He uses his free hand to lift his hair from the back of his neck.]
It is rather hot in here. I may take a quick walk on deck to cool my head before bed.
[It is up to Alucard whether he will join, or if he'll stay and have a little bit of privacy to collect his thoughts here in the room.]
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[It's not a judgement either way. Just a simple statement of fact, one that couples with Alucard withdrawing both of his hands from Hector. Processing everything? That's something he wants to do alone.]
If I asked for a few moments alone, would you begrudge me?
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I'll take a longer walk on deck. Keep an eye on the dogs.
[Time for Hector to go
freak out about how badly he's fucked upenvision all the ways Vlad is going to gruesomely murder himkiss his grad program goodbyenot be where Alucard is so he can actually summon more than two brain cells together and think about what's going to happen next.Hector doesn't know how long Alucard typically takes to brood, but he walks the length of the deck over and over, until the last of the sunlight fades and all of the heat of those kisses is blown away by ocean breeze and the misting spray of the waves. He stays away until it is simply too dark and chilly to not retire to his quarters. Hopefully that is enough.]
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[While Hector is out, Alucard takes the time to pace the room. The dogs don't seem to be disturbed at all, and at some point in all the pacing, Alucard's not there. It's the wolf moving back and forth, thinking over what just happened and quite frankly, how his father is likely to react. He has no doubt that Dracula will determine that this happened through some method.
The wolf's claws scrape softly over the wooden floor, going and going and going until Alucard's determined the following: first, that doing more of this without a declaration of clear intent is a bad idea. Even if this is nothing more than kissing for kissing's sake, then that much has to be stated. Second, nothing below the belt. That's how Dracula truly starts to disapprove. Three, how to approach Dracula when he figures all of this out.
By the time Hector is returned, Alucard is snug in his hammock already, one of the blankets already draped over himself.]
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He strips out of his boots and wet shirt and tip toes to extinguish the candle. The dogs stir, and Hector shushes them, but gives Antonius a quick scratch behind the ears and scoops Cesar up to lay on his stomach as he settles into his own hammock.
Hector has no answers as to what to do, but he'll lie awake in the comfort of his swinging bed and try to figure it out until sleep finds him.]
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Come evening, when the sun has set, Alucard returns to their room. Sits himself down and opens the small notebook that he has brought along, and writes carefully in it so he can best organize all transportation options before them.
He's not sure where Hector is. But they do need to speak, that much Alucard is certain of.]
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He has a vague idea now, but isn't certain how to see it to fruition. It takes the better part of the day, making tentative contact with other passengers, bartering with the few possessions he has.
When he returns in the evening, he brings a prize with him, which he places beside Alucard's book.]
Baklava?
[Hector has experience with physical intimacy, but next to none with dating. Giving gifts is a part of courtship, he thinks. His options are limited by their location, but it's a start. Probably. If Alucard is interested.]
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[Alucard picks his head up from his work, and then the honeyed scent of the dessert hits him all at once. The ingredients are familiar enough, but the assembly? Oh, that's new, and absolutely wonderful.]
Please.
[He moves the little bit of work space off to the side, part of him vaguely wondering how Hector has acquired this. Probably best not to ask.]
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If you like it, I can get more once we make port. It’s best fresh, but this should still be good.
[The dogs are interested, and Hector nudges them back with one booted foot to keep them from jumping up and sniffing at it.]
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[Alucard selects a small piece of the stuff, unsurprised that the shine means that it is a very sweet, sticky thing to touch. There's the honey of course, but the undercurrent of rosewater is a delicate and surprising touch.
He picks it up, but doen't eat. Not yet.]
Can we discuss last night?
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Sure, if you want.
[They should talk, but that doesn't make it less nerve-wracking.
He takes a seat.]
Have you come to any conclusions?
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I'd like to know what your intent is, be it courtship or something far less formalized.
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I like you. [They've been over this already. At least, Hector thinks he's voiced the thought. Alucard likes his dogs.]
I've never courted anyone before. I...would not be opposed to it. But you're new to this, and if you don't want that, we can keep things...simpler.
[Tell him what the right answer is, Alucard, and that's what Hector will say.]
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[Because you know who's very overprotective about his son, Hector? Just guess.]
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Your father would disapprove?
[He isn't sure which rejection would be more devastating: Alucard's or Vlad's. Vlad is the first person who ever looked at Hector with anything other than horror. His opinion is one of the only ones that matters.]
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We don't have to tell him, if we're keeping it simple.
[It's not a lie if they just don't mention it, right?]
I don't want to cause trouble for you with him. Whatever happens, you can decide the cadence.
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[HECTOR YOU DON'T LIE TO DRACULA!]
We can take a ship from Istanbul through the Black Sea to port in Wallachia. That gives us more time for...all of this.
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[Alucard is hard to read, and they haven’t been traveling together long enough for Hector to learn his tells.]
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[It's a very cautious query, one that's trying to test waters and gauge Hector's reaction as well.]
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I wouldn’t be opposed.
[He says totally coolly, like the cool and composed guy that he is.]
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I think that going below belts and below shirts should be off limits for now.
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I can abide by that. Is there anything else?
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I don't believe so. Was there anything you wished to address?
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Not really. Just that...I’m open to anything. So, if there’s anything you want to try, you can.
[Alucard is probably too innocent to take him up on that offer, but he’s still going to put it out there.]
Are you still working on this, or are you free...?
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Hector, your thirst will be the death of you. Dracula is going to murder you so dead]no subject
[That said, Alucard does nod for Hector to come over, and offers over the notebook s he does so.]
I do want you to look over the routes and tell me which you'd be more comfortable with.
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EXTRA DEAD HECTOR!!!]no subject
I can be a lab partner of sorts. We’ll work together on whatever you want to learn.
[He looks over the routes Alucard has detailed.]
You’ve been very thorough with your planning. I usually prefer the routes by land; you experience more of the place, and see more of the wildlife. But boat is the faster option, and I don’t want to slow us down just so I can collect samples along the way.
[He should select the fastest route, and get himself to the castle where he can devote himself to his studies. This kissing business is a wrinkle in his scholastic ambitions, and he can’t quite bring himself to care.]
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At any rate, he considers the routes again in light of the information, and the answer seems rather clear:]
I'll expect you to be more than a little distracted with land routes then. There will be plenty of time with my father for that, and in truth, I think he'd rather us return home soon too.
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We can take your father's opinion into consideration, but there is another's to consider. What do you want?
[This is dhampir's first trip out into the world, and he gets to call the shot, not dad.]
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I think I want to consider this in the long run, which means if I return safely and soon, I'll be permitted far longer adventures.
[So, the quick route home, but with intent behind it.
Look he can't help that he was born to two hot parents and grew up to be hot.]
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Then by boat it is.
[Alucard will be a dutiful son, and Hector will be...slightly less distracted.]
We could take a day in Istanbul, though. There's so much to see, and I should find a gift to bring to my hosts.
[Totally just being a good guest, it's not a date at all.]
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I have no problem with that, so long as I can check the ship timetables before hand so we don't miss whatever boats are heading north.
[Absolutely a goddamn date.]
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[He gives Alucard his best deadpan, which is pretty damn dead. Look, he can’t NOT be an asshole just because he likes someone.]
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[Alucard then closes the notebook and places it aside.]
Which leaves us with an open end to the evening.
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[Hector raises an eyebrow, so suave
undermined by the pinkening of his cheeks. Shhhh.He leans back against the wall.]Whatever could we do with the rest of our time?
[Don't say pet the dogs, don't say pet the dogs.]
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[Alucard, you're not either.]
If you want to kiss me again, just say so.
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If you always make me ask for it, I might think you don't want to.
[It's bad enough he's seducing Vlad's home-schooled son, he doesn't need to add guilt about taking advantage of him.]
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[Look! He doesn't know the rules of engagement!]
Maybe we should both stop talking and just kiss?
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Hector steps forward and hooks a finger into the front of Alucard's shirt to tug him forward. He brings their lips together as an answer to Alucard's question.]
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His hands remain above Hector's waist, settling on his chest instead. There's no grabbing, not yet, but there is an appreciation for the warmth below.]
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Hector parts his lips, giving Alucard free reign to explore as much as he wants. His arms loop over Alucard's shoulders and his fingers trail up and down his shoulder blades, reveling in the solidity of the dhampir's physical form.
He's been forbidden from trespassing below the belt, but he does shift so his knee bumps between Alucard's, just to bring them a little closer together.]
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His tongue is far more probing than the previous night, full of confidence he runs it against Hector's.]
Mmmmm.
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Alucard is pinned to the wall, though Hector has no illusions that Alucard couldn’t move him if he chose. Hector plays on the dynamic and starts to push back against Alucard’s inquisitive tongue, fighting for dominance of the kiss.]
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The hands on his hips are fine indeed. Alucard's own hands tug at the fabric of Hector's shirt, then one settles for groping at his chest beneath. It's not elegant, but it is a strong indicator that Alucard is most certainly interested in the chest area.
He'll allow Hector's tongue to start the Tongue War. But Alucard presses back as good as he gets, the sensation of the struggle absolutely fascinating in and of itself.]
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He runs one hand up Alucard’s side and runs a thumb over his nipple through the fabric of his shirt. His mouth moves to Alucard’s ear.]
I know you said nothing below the shirt, but I have no protective father. If you want to touch me there, I won’t tell.
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But shit. That thumb causes him to arch up into and against Hector, the reaction new and unexpected and quite welcome. His own hand doesn't mirror the gesture, not yet, but he'll follow through with it in just a few moments.
His response is soft, but firm.]
Not yet. [He's made the determination only partly due to the shadow of Dracula.] In due time.
[Hector, your thirst and the dhampir's attempts at boundaries might be a problem.]
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[Its not that Hector can’t be patient; it’s just hard when Alucard reacts so deliciously to every new move.
Hector slides his hand back down to the relative safety of Alucard’s waist and kisses his way down Alucard’s neck. The dhampir’s collar is low enough that his neck isn’t in the forbidden zone.]
I don’t suppose you’ve ever been bitten before....
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No. [There's such a warmth in his voice now, brought on by that attention.] That isn't the typical order of operations.
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[If not, Alucard better get to know and love scarves. Hector parts his lips and presses his blunt, human teeth against the pale flesh there. If kisses can win him those soft, sweet noises, Hector is dying to know what some pressure and suction can net.]
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[Hector's about to learn just how quickly a vampire can regenerate. And probably find it an absolute blessing all things considered.
But soft and sweet? No. Loud and sweet, or at least louder. The first squeal of delight has too much volume, and the second is Alucard desperately trying to walk back the reaction and keep things muted.]
!!!!
[And if he arches up a little against Hector, so be it.]
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...although if Alucard keeps rocking against him and making those noises, Hector is going to need more than a long walk on the cold deck to cool his blood once they stop.
He gives the column of Alucard’s neck a long lick before relinquishing it.]
Shhh, we have neighbors.
[Which for Hector, that just adds to the thrill. Hopefully Alucard is more responsible and respectable.]
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Alucard's skin begins to heal the moment that Hector's teeth leave it, until there's no indication that there was ever even an attempt to mark the flesh. It means that this sort of carrying on can continue, so long as the dhampir manages to mute himself. Which seems to be a struggle all things considered, as even the long breath he lets out all but echoes.]
Trying.
[His head is against the wall, and shit. Alucard's realized his knees are shaking.]
Perhaps we should sit.
[Alucard, laps are going to solve nothing here.]
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He backs up to free Alucard from the wall, and takes a seat. As he does, he looks at the unmarked neck.
Hmmm, interesting. Hector has got to know more. He needs empirical data points.
He beckons for Alucard to join him, and when he is close enough, Hector returns to his neck.]
Now I'm curious. Stop me if you don't like this.
[He bites down harder this time, to see how quickly it fades. Because the only thing better than make-outs is SCIENCE make-outs.]
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Careful. I don't know if I can turn people with my blood.
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Sorry. I'll be careful.
[He keeps his kisses gentle for now, light presses and flicks of his tongue to erase the pain.]
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[This is better. Although Alucard does inch even closer, missing the warmth that being pinned against the side of the ship by Hector's weight brought. His hands resettle in Hector's hair, and ah.
This is ideal.
(Should we skip to Istanbul Date?)]
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The morning sees them make port, and once Alucard sees to their travel plans for the next day, Hector leaves the dog’s in the safety of a rented room in an inn and drags Alucard out for sight-seeing. Literally, he is tugging the cuff of Alucard’s sleeve to pull him along.]
A day is scarcely time for everything. There’s the library, of course, and the church has architecture impressive enough to merit a visit —can you enter a church? — and we’re spoiled for options for food. Did you like the baklava? I can get better for you here.
[He’s talking a mile a minute, wanting to make sure Alucard is impressed.]
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But they've eaten poorly on the journey, and that seems the best place to start.]
Something more substantial than baklava, I think.
[He's shed his coat for the day, opting for a simple tunic and his trousers, blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.]
And yes, I can enter churches and mosques. If we're permitted in is another question entirely though. [But also:] Perhaps we'd be wise to see if any of the ḥammāms permit westerners as well. I'm developing a fine patina of sea salt.
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Is that...something you want to do together?
[Hector has lived in places with public path houses before, and there isn’t anything inherently sexual about them...but at the same time, naked. Naked with Alucard. It’s both the best and worst idea ever.]
Food, then we can figure out if there’s a ḥammām that will take us.
[The smell of sweets and savory meats can lead even a human nose to market food stalls.]
Try whatever you want. I recall favoring the kol böreği last time I was here. I’ll get another and you can try it.
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[Yeah Hector, he definitely caught that reaction. Alucard's thoughtful sounding enough about it though, making it sound less like a judgement and closer to an honest consideration.
On the topic of food, Alucard's eyes return to the street around him. Considering. And then reaching a simple conclusion:]
Why don't we split up for fifteen minutes, find what we can, and then meet back up with whatever bounty we have? It'll let us cover more culinary ground.
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And Alucard? Splitting up is not how you do a date. You're supposed to walk together, bumping shoulders and sampling one another's purchases. This is what Hector gets for trying to stealthily date a novice.]
Alright, if that's how you want to do it. Meet back here, and make sure you keep an eye on your money purse. There are always pickpockets around markets like this.
[He shouldn't feel worried about leaving Alucard to his own devices. Alucard made his way to Hector's island on his own, and he is physically stronger and more magically inclined than anyone he could possibly run into. He's just...so sheltered.]
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Of course.
[Which means that for 15 minutes, Alucard is left to his own devices. He's already been in the city walls once before heading to Hector, but he had focused only on getting the right ships. With all the time he has now? He spends almost all of it distracted in a bookseller's shop (helpfully next to a place selling food.)
When Alucard returns? He has three books and one large thing of lahmacun that is folded on itself
like a calzone.]I'm afraid I got a little distracted...
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At least if I lose you, I know where to look.... I got a few dishes to share. There's some shade by the gate where we can sit.
[Hector can supervise to make sure Alucard eats instead of reading through their break. He's not used to being the responsible one. Heaven help them both.
Hector has a couple of offerings. He has his kol böreği pastry, a tantuni, and a couple of desserts- the greatly anticipated baklava, a couple of kaymakli kayisi apricots, and a handful of sticky lokma wrapped up in a cloth.
Picnic time. How romantic.]
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Apparently the main bazaar has an entire area dedicated to books of all sorts and languages.
[Sorry Hector. He's going. You'll have to go with him or go to the baths.
The gate Hector says, and Alucard starts walking in that direction. He's going to occupy himself on the ship with his new books, not now.
Once he settles down against the gate, Alucard does move the book aside. His own selection pales in comparison with Hector's, and for a moment he feels overwhelmed with overabundance. It takes a few moments to make a selection, but finally Alucard gets started. Kol böreği first, and Alucard's noise of delight at it says everything.]
We may want to invest in a few of these for the boat ride...
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[Or a good offering for his soon-to-be hosts, if they don't already have all the books in the world.
Hector takes a seat, but don't start eating yet. Seeing Alucard's reactions is more interesting.]
Aren't they good? I told you they were.
[Yes, they can definitely take some to go when they depart.]
We'll have to protect them from the dogs, though. They don't even physically need to eat, they're just greedy.
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[Alucard doesn't actually know. For all the time they've spent together lately, the more academic questions have been eschewed. There'sthe reason of but the dogs tho, and then there's the kissing.
But Alucard keeps eating, careful not to take more than half. Hector needs to eat as well.]
Can't you tell them not to and be listened thanks to how the forge works?
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[He can't speak Latin, but reading he can manage with time and a reference book. He needs to brush up on it in preparation for Dracula's grand library, but definitely not in front of any of the Ţepeşes.
Once Alucard has sampled the dishes, Hector begins to eat. They're going to need energy for all of the book shopping and architectural tourism they'll be doing today.]
I could, but I won't. They're living creatures. [
basically] I try to let them act freely, unless it endangers them. [or occasionally if it interferes with kissing a very hot dhampir].no subject
[Yeah, he sounds more than a little excited about that possibility.
Alucard's approach to their feast is to take a little of one dish, move onto the next, and then return to where he's started. It's a careful rotation, although one he fully admits is odd. Truly it's just to keep any one set of flavors from being overwhelming.]
Ah, I see. Well, there may be foods we bring back that are not safe for dogs to eat.
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Books before our bath? If you want to spend more time here, we could delay our departure another day.
[He knows Alucard is eager to be home and assure his parents of his safety, but Hector doesn’t want him to go away having missed out on anything.
It’s totally just that and not also the niggling fear that Dracula will take one look at him, know he’s been kissing his son and heir, and put a clawed fist through his heart.]Do you want me to order the dogs not to eat your snacks?
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[He hasn't had a real bath in a while, Hector. He hates it.]
Mmmm, I think that might be required. But only this once.
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[Probably best to go bathe before they are laden with more books, unless they are taking a trip back to their rooms midday.]
Ok, but really, just the once. I don't want to make a habit of it.
[He has the power that could wreck havoc on the world, but his temperament prevents it. Hector prefers to let everyone be, as long as they aren't actively harming him or his.]
Are you ready for dessert?
[He holds up a lokma between thumb and forefinger. Just platonically offering to hand feed a friend, totally not a date.]
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[And that's that, in the end. Alucard has always been fine. There's no reason to presume that things will change, not really.
But as for desert? Alucard's eyes linger on the lokma for a moment, ready to insist that Hector need not hold it like that, but...it's far too thick with honey, and there's no merit in both of them getting sticky
yet.So he leans down and takes a bite. What if his lips accidentally brush against Hector's fingers in the process?]
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We’ll come back.
[He promises, because ‘fine’ is a state to be endured, not something that you should aim for. He offers another dessert for Alucard to sample.]
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[You know what? He's just going to shut up and take that send lokma. Probably smarter.]
You don't have to keep feeding me, you know.
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[The Ottoman Empire may be vast, but they are no Dracula.
Hector lowers his hands.]
Do you not like them? Or do you not like this?
[Maybe they are attracting the odd stare, but Hector's enjoying himself. He's sure Alucard looks handsome and noble enough that he could be mistaken for a servant feeding his lord.]
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[Alucard is also well aware that his mother will want to offer medical aid instead. He's not looking forward to watching this particular fight, and hopefully it can be avoided.
it won't be.Alucard pauses, tucking a few stray strands of hand.]
Neither. But I am capable of feeding myself and I think it unfair for only you to have sticky fingers.
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[
How did Hector ever become a general? He’s The Worst at this.Hector shrugs, but passes the cloth containing the rest of the desserts over to Alucard.]
I don’t mind it. It’s kind of nice.
[Not the sticky fingers part, but the getting to touch Alucard’s lips in public part. But Alucard’s probably right.]
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[
Hector, at least we know you're terrible at it.Alucard takes another piece from the cloth, and he chews very thoughtfully.]
There will be other opportunities, I'm sure. The current estimation for our time to port is five days.
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Your father has the right idea, not tying himself down to a single place and having to weather the changing tides.
[Hector steals a piece of baklava for himself, then starts to wipe his fingers clean.]
So is that how you want to spend our time on the boat? I’m not opposed.
[The mental image of Alucard, draped on a couch, accepting morsels from Hector’s fibgertips... um, bath soon? Cold bath soon??]
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Thankfully, Alucard is oblivious to Hector's train of thought. Is there a term for a twink who doesn't realize he's a twink?]
Not all of it, obviously, I expect that we will run out of food. I'd also rather not risk bringing that much honey, lest it invite rats.
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I imagine we'll take some breaks. Knowing how sweet you'll taste, I'll need to stop to kiss you.
[Also, you know, sleeping, dog petting. The essentials.
God, Hector can feel his face going red, talking about it so blatantly. He pushes himself up and dusts himself off.]
We should see about that bath, otherwise we won't be presentable enough to get into the libraries.
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I believe that there's one a few blocks down? [There's a helpless little shrug.] Unfortunately I don't know the city's geography well.
[You Tried Star. Alucard starts to walk though, hoping his guess is right.]
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For now, though, he's tapped out, and he needs to recover some shame before he does any more flirting. He goes the way Alucard indicated, because Alucard is way smarter than he is and probably did his research, right?]
We'll try it. If we can't find it, you can ask someone for directions.
[But surely it won't come to that.]
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To perhaps no one's surprise, it does come to that. Alucard's quick to realize that if they walk too far one way or another, they're liable to become lost in the city's layout, and so he makes a choice: goes back to the bookstore and asks the shop keeper there. The man had a few texts in Latin, it stands to reason he might know.
And he does. It's a walk, the man says, but well worth it. A walk that sends the two onward for about half a mile before they get to where they need to be, and then there's reason to pause outside of it.]
We did want to time this apart, correct?
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Inside is going to be a maze of hallways and steam rooms and closets.
It’s not like Hector has to worry about Alucard’s safety. Intellectually, he knows that Alucard has more power than he does, that he could kill any man that threatened him, or more likely dissolve into mist and remove himself from the situation.
...but he is also a hopelessly sheltered, breathtakingly beautiful man who had never been kissed before Hector, and Hector has concerns about leaving him alone in a building full of naked men.
But it is not his call.]
If you think it best. I won’t deny you your privacy, if that’s what you want.
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[That requires clothing, and Alucard knows he'd be comfortable getting a read on the place and understanding the norms better. Easy enough, and Alucard smiles softly at Hector in an attempt to be reassuring.]
I don't mind. Come find me when you're done.
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Turkish baths are always a delight, but Hector can't relax. He scrubs and rinses, and tries to make himself presentable, but there is no lounging and soaking in the heat. There is still too much to show Alucard in the city. No one bothers him, or even gives him much notice, but he's not the one who is ethereally handsome.
With the dirt and funk of travel scrubbed off of him and his hair washed and combed, Hector dresses and returns to find Alucard in one of the lounges with his tea.]
Look, there was a man under that sea spray all this time.
[He wishes he'd thought to bring nicer clothes...or that he owned nicer clothes, so maybe he could impress Alucard. The struggle of life as a hermit.]
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His hands are holding an empty glass when Hector does return. He's refilled twice, and a third is probably ill advised. More than that though, Alucard looks up at Hector with a soft smile on his lips. One that matches the laugh that leaves his throat.]
So there was. [But Alucard takes that as an opportunity to stand.] I'll have to go on a like journey of discovery it seems. I promise to try and make it quick.
[No promises.
On the other hand Hector, you can sit and think about how to ask Dracula for better clothes...]
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Take your time. The water's fine. I'll be here when you're done.
[Hector can sit and let a cup of tea grow cold in his hands while he tries to not panic about how Dracula is going to know he's got a hopeless crush on his son the second he crosses the threshold of the castle. Is impaling as painful as they say? He's probably going to find out.]
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Either way, Alucard does end up taking his time. It's closer to half an hour, and most of it is the novelty of the heated stones that can be used for lying down on. His own body temperature, running as cool as it does, means that absorbing heat and having something like a normal human's temperature? That's an absolute novelty, and one he rather enjoys.
But there's salt to be rid of and a long journey ahead, so Alucard forces himself upright and scrubs through all the build up. Moreover, he takes advantage of the deep pools to truly wash out his hair, and oh, it feels so much better.
He finds Hector again, hair sodden but looking otherwise immaculate.]
I think that next time, I'm going to have to allocate more time for this place.
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Hector will show Alucard other ways to warm his body up any time he wants.Even with wet hair, Alucard looks perfect, and Hector has the horrible impulse to muss him up. He resists nobly.]
I hear your castle has some fine baths. You won't suffer too much until you can come back. You did want to go back to the book market, didn't you?
[He's absolutely dangling that carrot on a stick to make sure Alucard doesn't go away feeling too bad that they rushed through this part of their journey.]
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Hector just don't do that in the house....]I did but...
[Alucard pauses, and then considers the time. There's a soft click of his tongue.]
We need to get going so we don't miss our boat. The books will be here another time.
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Sounds like the boat is free game.]So soon? We at least have time to pick up a few more pastries to take with us, right?
[Maybe they should have bathed together after all, if only to give Alucard a little more time for shopping.
He'll go without complaint though, to pick up their dogs, belongings, and snacks so they can be early to their ship like good little passengers.]
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It would be but Hector think about how loud the dhampir probably will be.]We should focus on the pastries.
[Alucard makes a point to get a few heartier and meatier options in addition to more sweets, aware that they have a voyage ahead and that there may be rats on the boat.
The boat is mostly of luxury goods, and Alucuard has parlayed passage by offering his own sword as a means of protection. Such as it is, their room is a little larger than last, with an uncomfortable mattress of hay or a hammock. Alucard's certain that the hammock will be more comfortable.
They leave in the evening light. Alucard's happy enough to eat some of their own provisions rather than take from the crew, and when all is said and done, he flops backwards, his head on the mattress and the rest of him on the floor.]
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Hector watches with a raised eyebrow.]
You're not planning on sleeping on that thing, are you?
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Well, one of us has to.
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Not necessarily. If we keep still, we could probably both fit into the hammock.
[Even on a nicer ship, there will be rats scurrying around when the lights go out.]
If not, I’ll take the mattress. I’ve slept on worse.
[But really, sharing the hammock, Alucard will definitely be kept warm enough.]
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[Alucard's eyes go up to the fixtures the hammock hangs from, and he frowns.]
We may fit, but I suspect it wouldn't support both of our weights.
I don't mind the mattress. I can ignore anything that scurries.
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[If he thought he could convince Alucard to share the mattress with him, he might try, but that seems even less likely than the two of them in the hammock.
He's pleased that Alucard checked the structure of the hammock before rejecting the idea.]
You just got yourself clean. Take the hammock.
[Hector trusts the dogs to keep the rats off him while he sleeps.]
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[But he isn't getting up either. There are dogs to pet, but Alucard's eyes meet Hector's, quietly asking why he's still standing when he could be down here, cuddled up against the dhampir.]
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You know, you still haven't shown me your transformation.
[Hector is weak, Alucard. He needs to pet all the dogs.]
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That's true, I haven't.
[Watching Cesar react to the attention, Alucard hums thoughtfully.]
In a few more hours. Once it's certain the ship is at rest.
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That's a promise, and I'm holding you to it.
[So, that means that they both have some time to kill, and that Hector shouldn't wear himself out on petting just yet. He wonders if Alucard the wolf will smell as good as Alucard the dhampir.]
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He would be just fine if this was the entire voyage. Curled up, being held, petting dogs.]
I would expect no less. But I'll smell closer to wet dog, you know.
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Wet dog smell's no deal breaker.
[He scoops Cesar up and deposits him on Alucard's stomach for easier access. Antonius immediately fills the vacated space at Alucard's other side. The dhampir is truly being cuddled on all fronts now, on this sad gross straw mattress.]
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[Even Alucard can't stand his own wet dog smell. But that's hardly the point. The point is dogs, and he's so happy to move a hand to pet under Cesar's chin. This? This is probably spoiled in spite of the nightmare of a mattress.
So he stays snuggled up for an hour more, and then he nudges Hector gently with his elbow.]
I need a little space to transform.
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[Hector grumbles into the crook of Alucard's shoulder. Smelling wet dog means you have been graced with the presence of a dog, which is always a good thing.
When the time comes, Hector lifts Cesar again and whistles for Antonius to come to him, then rolls from his side to his back, giving Alucard a precious foot of space free of man and undead dogs.]
Am I allowed to watch?
[He doesn't know what the transformation will entail, but he's wildly curious.]
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[Alucard draws himself up, and he walks a few steps. It's as he moves that the transformation occurs, perhaps too fast, perhaps with too little fanfare. His features shift, morph, become elongated and then more canine, until a large wolf is standing there, tail curled up very slightly.
That same wolf then walks right back over to Hector, aware that there's only 1 reaction here: pet the dog.[
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Cesar and Antonius immediately abandon Hector to examine this new friend who smells alike-but-different from Friend Alucard. They bump against him and sniff and playfully dart around him, an invitation to play.
Meanwhile, Hector is examining the wolf form as he strokes and scratches. Alucard appears, by all metrics Hector can measure, to be an honest to God wolf. The pelt, the bone structure, even the large paw pads and extra digit on the front paws.
Needless to say, Hector is thoroughly petting this dog and he is delighted.]
Why have we not been doing this every night?
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But he is happy to sniff at Cesar and Antonious. Paw at them, sniff, but he doesn't play until Hector is done Examining The Wolf. Then the wolf is happy to just move and dart a little, not exactly giving chase but definitely helping the other two to get in a bit of exercise.
And again at the question, there's a soft huff! He has to be a person to reply you know!]
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[The dogs have been troopers on this journey so far, and Hector eventually withdraws so they Alucard can help them get some of their pent-up energy out.]
Now you’ll definitely be their favorite.
[There’s no weight behind the teasing, though. Hector can’t blame his pets. Alucard is his favorite too.]
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But it all winds down, and when that happens, Alucard settles back down beside Hector, now human.
He's absolutely figured out spooning now.]
Only for a time. They're still yours.
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He lets his arms wind around Alucard and nestles his nose into the back of his neck the way Alucard seems to like.]
I suppose I can let spoil them, as long as you're staying near me and not luring them away.
[Because that's the fear, that Alucard will decide he likes traveling more than he likes Hector and go off on his own fabulous adventures after he drops Hector off at the castle.
The point of action for that is to make sure Alucard is well versed in all the benefits of his presence.]
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[Alucard lets out a very low, pleased noise at Hector's nose finding just the right spot to rest on. It's nice, having that warmth and weight pressed against his neck. Alucard moves one hand down, brushing it over Hector's gently.
All of this is nice. Traveling has been wonderful, as has learning the various ways to become comfortable in such close quarters. Future trips probably won't have companions, but...
...thoughts for later.]
Are you comfortable?
[They are technically half on and half off a horrible little mattress and the floor.]
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[The castle is both a dream and a looming spectre. Reaching it will mark the beginning of a real education, more opportunity than Hector ever hoped he'd receive. It also means the end of this journey. He won't know how he fares in the exchange til he reaches his destination.]
I could make myself more comfortable.
[He tugs Alucard, vaguely further into the mattress but mostly closer. It's a shit mattress, but it's better than half a shit mattress.]
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There's a soft laugh on his lips.]
Careful. I'm liable to fall asleep like this.
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[Warmth isn’t all Alucard is going to get from him
though all he has to do is say the word and Hector will really heat him up. Hector slides his hand up Alucard’s chest, caressing through his shirt. He parts his lips and begins to tease the skin of Alucard’s neck with tongue and teeth.]no subject
[Alucard knows by now what that means, but he can't help but play just a little dumb. It makes the sigh of absolute contentment and delight that follows all the better. Makes the fact that it's Alucard who starts to tangle their legs together all the better.
His hands are far, far more confident now, knowing what they want and how to get it. One hand is quick to wind into Hector's hair, gently tugging him upwards to administer attention to a higher part of Alucard's neck. The other?
Well, Alucard's made his fondness for chests very clear alraedy. But Hector's already got a hand there, and the man does have a fine enough rear to grab and refuse to let go of.]
One morning you should actually wake me like this.
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[He rocks against Alucard, very much in approval.]
More than one, surely, now that the offer’s been made.
[He’ll maul your neck every morning if that’s what you want, you ridiculous dhampir.]
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[And it is, and more than that, Alucard's decided that Hector's chest may not be his best feature. There's another squeeze, ever so careful not to bruise, and the dhampir presses himself up against Hector further. He's hardly aware of the roll of his own hips.
They'll have to start moving below the belt at this point, if only because that's the remaining unexplored territory.]
Mmm, perhaps not. I'll expect it when I'm home, and that's a dangerous path.
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[If butts are on the table, Hector isn’t holding back. He’ll stay above the clothes, but one hand slides down and grips Alucard’s otherworldly ass.
Alucard’s squeeze is met with an approving groan. This one doesn’t mind if there are bruises. He slips a leg between Alucard’s to give them a little more friction as they move together.]
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Instead he just buries his face into what he can reach of Hector's head, angle terrible since Hector is still lavishing attention to the dhampir's neck.]
Within reason.
[He hasn't quite clocked Hector's general lack of planning.
What Alucard has clocked is the fact he very, very much likes having his ass squeezed, and there's no groan from him. There is instead another roll of his hips, this time grinding down against Hector's leg. The motion is coupled with a soft sigh, and the feeling of heat in Alucard's cheeks.]
Hector?
[It's a cautious iteration of his name.]
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conquestexploration of Alucard’s neck at the tone he hears when his name is spoken.]Yes? Is this too much?
[He hopes not, but he slows his movements until he knows if Alucard is good to proceed.]
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There are so many steps we could take next, and they're all going to be very enjoyable.
[He very deliberately presses his hips into Alucard.]
We could keep doing this.
[He gives Alucard's butt another, harder squeeze.]
Or you could let me use my hands...
[He brings his lips close to Alucard's ear and runs his tongue along the outer shell.]
Or I could show you what I can do with my mouth.
[He draws back, still touching Alucard, but no longer pressing, so Alucard can breath.]
Or I can take a very long, very stiff walk around the deck and we can go to sleep.
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Too many options.
[There. Those are the only three words he manages for a few intense moments, aware that his heart is moving faster. Something closer to human than his usual slow beat. It's enough for him to at least decide.]
First two.
[A mouth feels too dangerous at the moment.]
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Good, you're so good...
[He presses his lips to Alucard's, tangling tongues together, incautious of the fangs. When he finally draws back for breath, he kisses his way to Alucard's ear again.]
I'm going to unfasten your trousers. No point in making a mess of your clothes when you just got clean.
[It's purely that and not at all that Hector is dying to get his hand around Alucard's cock.]
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Alucard's not surprised that they're both pulled onto the mattress. What takes him aback, truly aback, is how quickly Hector speeds up his thrusts. It's not that Alucard can't keep up, it's just the realization that Hector's truly thought this out. Must have thought out a while ago and--
--lips catch lips and with everything so overwhelming, Alucard's response is without it's usual caution. There's a moment where his fang catches something, and a thin stream of blood joins the embrace. A stream that Alucard's innate hunger is quick to seize upon, his tongue moving to the spot and licking at it as hungrily as Hector is pursuing the rest of this.
He's utterly breathless when Hector pulls away. At some point in all of his his hands have found purchase in Hector's hair and at his hip, vaguely aware that they're points where he can exert control if he needs to.]
What of your own? Your state is the same as mine.
[Sure Hector. It's totally that. That and the lack of consideration for Dracula's reaction.]
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If you want, I can do the same to myself, but I can wait and take care of mine when you're done. I'm already pushing you. You can't learn every lesson in a single session.
[He should slow down, but reason is out the door at this point. Unless Alucard tells him to stop, he is determined to see Alucard to completion.
He works open the lacing of Alucard's pants and slips his hand inside to wrap around the shaft of Alucard's cock.]
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It isn't something he reacts to silently either. There's a short, sharp gasp of breath, along with the reminder that he still has his fingers threaded in Hector's hair. He pulls as a part of natural reaction, but thankfully not at vampire strength.
Alucard tries another breath to steady himself, but it comes out shaky instead. It's a breath that's painfully aware that he's growing harder in Hector's hand, and rutting against it to quicken the process]
I don't know how quietly I can manage--
[He knows that much of himself from his own experimentation.]
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It's alright, we'll keep your mouth occupied.
[He trusts Alucard can make his protests known other ways if he decides he wants to bring this to a halt. Hector kisses his way across Alucard's jaw and cheek until he claims his lips again. Once he has his mouth sealed over Alucard's, he gives another squeeze.]
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[It's the only word he manages to get out before Hector's lips meet his again. Alucard murmurs something else, but it's all vibrations like this. Vibrations that quickly develop into a groan that he fears might be reverberating not in the back of Alucard's own throat, but Hector's, just from the sheer volume of it.
Because shit, it is loud, and that's only in reaction to being squeezed, mixed in with the fact Alucard's hips press the full of himself closer to Hector.
The hand that isn't in Hector's hair finally moves. Slides up Hector's shirt so that Alucard's fingers can run up the skin of Hector's spine, usually cool flesh running at perfectly human temperatures now.]
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He pumps his fist up and down the hardening length, feeling for Alucard's reaction in his movements and the vibrations of his grunts. He doesn't know how Alucard likes to touch himself, so he moves by trial and error, alternating fast and slow, gentle strokes and hard tugs, learning and evolving his technique as he goes. His own cock is hard against Alucard's thigh, seeking out the rare warmth of Alucard's body.]
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Alucard's hand presses down against Hector's back. Fingers curl there, so, so careful not to let nails grow. Any other sort of scratch would be just fine, but Alucard knows his fingernails are closer to razors. It would be cruel to inject that sort of pain into the moment, especially now.
He tries to angle his hips up just a little more. Trying to have Hector's hand close to his own cock, so that Alucard's thrusts can touch him in burn. It's fair. It's right. Important to give, because he's getting so, so much right now.]
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Alucard's angling has him shuddering and biting back his own moans. Hector should've known a prodigy like Alucard wouldn't be content to merely audit the class.
They both know by now that Hector's willpower has the integrity of a sand castle. He uses his other hand to start unfastening his own pants so he can stroke both of them together. His mouth stays on Alucard's, a safeguard against alerting the outside world.]
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Waiting is a tricky proposition. He doesn't manage it, not with Hector's fingers moving lower and okay he definitely likes having his balls touched. By a lot if the fact he actually pulls away in order to gasp for breath is any indication.
But he takes that moment to get air back into his lungs. He needs it. Alucard knows his heart is hammering now, knows he's feverish, and that whatever Hector does next, he isn't liable to last long.]
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Lips seal over the dhampir's to swallow any sound as Hector's movements resume. Hector's blood is rushing in his veins, hot and thrumming. This will be quick, but Hector's hoping it's impactful.]
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And he is gone otherwise. Nothing but a mess of noises pressed into Hector's mouth, some short and too quick, others long and wanting, rising from the very pit of his belly. And all the while he thrusts into Hecctor's hand, the heat of his skin finally causing sweat. Undoing the glories of the bath.
It takes precious little else for him to finish with a great shout that he swears must end up reverberating against Hector's own vocal chords. He's pressed up against the other man as much as he can be, and if the way Alucard all but yanks on Hector's hair is a problem, well, he'll apologize in just a few moments.]
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He pulls back from Alucard's lips and lets his flushed forehead come to rest on Alucard's shoulder.
Well, the good news is, it's not like they made the mattress any more of a mess than it was before.
The bad news is, Dracula is 100% going to kill him.]
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Alucard lies there, feeling his hammering heart slow down it's pace. The warmth of himself starting to ebb, and becoming so keenly aware of everything going on around him.]
I definitely do not want to sleep on this mattress now.
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I told you, sleep on the hammock.
[He feels around lazily and comes up with one of the threadbare blankets that were folded on the mattress before they started up their thrusting. He begins to clean them up.]
We'll have to find another bath when we reach the next port. Worth it, I hope.
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Worth it.
[He's still breathless.]
And as far as the mattress goes, I think I'll just take wolf form.
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If you're sure.
[He rolls into his back and rakes his hand through his sweat-tangled hair.]
The minute I move, the dogs are going to steal my spot. Just so you're prepared.
[As if cuddling them was not part of the draw to taking the wolf form...]
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So don't move. At least not right away.
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Ok. Are you fine like this, or would you rather be a wolf?
[Hector can cuddle with either, let's be real.]
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[Wolf would be too weird right now.
Alucard inches back just a little bit, so that he's just brushing against Hector. Pressure is going to be overwhelming in a bad way, but this? This is good.]
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Does the captain need you to report in early tomorrow?
[Alucard’s job is to repel any dangers the ship might face, so he’s not sure kind of hours it will run.]
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[Alucard sighs with a deep contentment as Hector's fingers brush over his hair. There's an attempt to reach across and take that hand but...no.
Boneless seems to be the word of the hour.]
I'll be awake in time, don't worry.
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Hmmm. You couldn't possibly be late....
[Because somebody wanted a wake-up call, didn't he? Hector lets his eyelids lower as he drowses.]
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[Alucard does drift off eventually. The ship is quiet. The dogs are snoring (which is adorable.) There is nothing but the soft rocking motion of the boat and the quiet of the sea to lull Alucard to sleep.
He rises quietly a little before dawn. One golden eye opens, then the next, and oh. His trousers are still open, he's utterly disheveled (guess who has amazing post-orgasm hair), and he has to work.]
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'morning.
[And look, if Alucard is already disheveled, there's no harm in ruffling him up a little more. Hector rolls over and nuzzles into Alucard's neck.]
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[Alucard's halfway to the thought of sitting up when Hector rolls right on over. The dhampir pauses, and damn his hands, the go right to grasping at Hector's side.]
Mmmm. [He's soft with that noise, never mind delighted.]
I can't linger too long.
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[To stick to that sleeping arrangement, not...anything else.
He sucks on Alucard's neck, the way that he's seen crumble Alucard's willpower before.]
...won't take long...
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Alucard squirms a little. This is starting to be mortifying, how easy it is to get him to stay.]
That's probably not something for either of us to brag about.
[Alucard starts to sit up. Very slowly.]
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Shhh. It's because I'm so talented, and you're so gorgeous.
[He follows Alucard up, not quite going so far as to tug him back down, but still keeping close, in case he's willing to be persuaded.]
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Mmm. It is tempting, but I am also a very firm believer in not being tossed overboard.
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This is a vacation for you. You could be a little less diligent.
[Alucard is a good boy, though, and Hector isn't really trying to convince him anymore. They can't stay in the cabin all day.
Alucard is leaving Hector alone with his thoughts, which is probably dangerous. He's going to be scheming all day.]
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[Fair passage and all. With that, Alucard finally gets up, taking a few precious minutes to un-dishevel himself. That's important, and when he exits, he looks perfectly presentable. No sign that anything's happened at all.
So it goes. The sea is almost eventful when Alucard's keen eyes spot another ship over the horizon, but it's another trading vessel and they all move on without incident. He's good for catching things, and that? That's all there is for the day.
He returns to the cabin with the sunset.]
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Before Alucard comes back, Hector does his best to tidy up the room. Alucard worked all day, even if there was no real need of it, and the least Hector can do it try to make him comfortable.
When Alucard returns to their cabin, Hector ushers him to sit down.]
Have you eaten? We still have a few of our pastries left.
[He circles around behind Alucard and starts to rub his shoulders. He isn't practiced with massage, but he does have a very thorough working knowledge of the musculature of the human body. Long day at work, take a load off, Alucard.]
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It's feels strange to be this...he doesn't think fawned over is correct. Focused on perhaps, and so with Hector's hands working at his back (Alucard would point out that his natural healing abilities means he experiences no aches or pains), his hands move to pet the dogs.]
I have eaten, and I was going to wait a bit before reaching for the baklava.
How did you spend your day?
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Nothing much. Stretched my legs, exercised the dogs, thought about how nice it would be to have you back here.
[He's not going to interrupt dog-cuddle time, though.]
I take it the seas were quiet.
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Mmm, they're weathering being cooped up fairly well.
[For emphasis, Cezar gets a scratch under the chin.]
They were. It's looking like rain tomorrow though, so plan your time accordingly.
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[Hector doesn't have to reach over Alucard to stroke them. The dogs both know when they are being praised, and their tails wag.]
So what you're saying is, I'll be cooped up tomorrow and should get all of my energy out tonight?
[It's absolutely not what Alucard was saying. But it could be.]
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I can save a few bits of meat from tomorrow's meal in the mean time.
[So. Much. Sausage. Alucard gets it, it's salted and will survive at sea, but still.
Also Hector. Hector please. Alucard's hum of interest is low, and he angles his head back so Hector can see the raised eyebrows on the dhampir's face.]
How much thought have you given this?
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Well, I was here all day, with little to do. A few thoughts may have crossed my mind.
[He stops the massaging and gives Alucard's shoulders a pat instead. There is something more important that his thirst.]
What about you? Have you thought about...what happened last night?
[Hector thinks Alucard was alright with their shared experience, but there wasn't much time for the dhampir to process it before he left this morning. If they aren't on the same page anymore, Hector needs to rein himself in.]
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He won't be rude. Honesty is the only option.]
In truth, I haven't had much opportunity to.
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Alright. I'll give you time to think. I haven't eaten yet. I can take my böreği on deck.
[That'll give Alucard a little time with just the dogs and his thoughts for company.]
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[The dogs are good company. The best, and Alucard just keeps petting them, after he scootches back against the wall of the ship so he can sit up properly.
There's a lot to think about, but the future? That weighs the most heavily on his mind. As wonderful as fooling around is, and oh, last night was wonderful, they both have to think beyond this ship and the liminality of it.
No matter what thought, Alucard is sure that the rest of the voyage will be awkward.]
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He has less worries about the future than Alucard. Yes, the circling around one another, trying to figure out how they fit can be awkward, but anything worth doing is worth putting effort into.
And he really likes Alucard. He should be miserable, being in such close quarters with someone else after having lived as a hermit, but he actually doesn't mind.
He heads back to their room.]
I hope the dogs didn't distract you too much.
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Not at all. They were incredibly conducive to thinking, in truth.
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So...are you tired?
[Or do you want to stay up and talk? Or stay up and not talk?]
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Where do you see this going, Hector?
[Yeah. Hasn't dated before, but has an absolute mastery of the worst relationship questions.]
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I don't know. I can't see into the future. But I'd like to keep spending time with you. Court you, maybe, if you wanted that. You're an adult. Your parents can't expect you to stay alone forever.
[He shrugs.]
It depends on what you want, Alucard. We can just be friends, or we can try for more than that.
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I'm not sure I'm ready to be actually courted yet. [This all happened much too fast.] Please don't mistake me, this learning experience has been well. [There's a pause, and a soft, happy noise.] Remarkable.
[But what he wants. Alucard shakes his head.]
But that brings us to what I want, and I can't answer that yet. The world is wide and I've seen so little of it.
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That would be far off. I just don’t want you to think that I’d bed you and abandon you. But if you want this to end when we reach our destination, I’ll put it out of my mind.
[Well, that’s a lie. He won’t stop thinking about it, but he won’t mention it again.]
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I suppose the question becomes does it help to end it now, before matters intensify further?
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It might, if you think it should end.
[Can you hear his reluctance, Alucard?]
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I'm asking what's best for you.
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No, I don't want to stop. But we've established I'm reckless, and I don't want you to get hurt.
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[Oh no. Those tummy tickles are too much. Alucard's gonna just get in on that.]
But I also don't want you to be hurt. Nor do I want to encourage recklessness once we're off this boat.
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You're not, though. So it'll be fine if I do what you tell me.
[Alucard is definitely the more responsible one, so they're probably both better off if Hector's not the ones calling the shots.]
So, I won't push you anymore. But if you want anything, just say it.
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Mmm. Would it be easier if I wasn't person shaped for the next few evenings?
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I do have some self-control, you know. That won’t be necessary.
...unless you want belly-rubs too.
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[Belly rubs later. Spoil the dogs now.]
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I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me.
[He would pat Alucard's head, except they're doing the space thing.]
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[He smiles, feeling the awkwardness of the situation to begin to well and truly settle in. Alucard's gaze shifts to the floor, and he tries to shift and settle into this.]
...If you had plans, we could do them tonight and then enforce this tomorrow.
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There is a long list of lessons I’d like to teach you. But if you’re uncertain, we’re going to let these dogs, eat our baklava, and then we can go over my Latin until you’re ready to sleep so I don’t look like a bumpkin in front of your genius parents.
[Because as much as Hector wants to smooch, he’s not going to push any more unless Alucard is 100% on board.]
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The second one then. Although you won't look like a bumpkin, of that I can assure you.
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And he likes talking with Alucard, as friends. It's preferable even to being able to cuddle the wolf.]
You say that, but you haven't heard my accent when I try to speak it. My only saving grace is that the language is dying.
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[Alucard considers this, and he shifts his entire body so it's facing Hector.
His next words are in Latin.]
I doubt it is as bad as you claim.
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[He’s sure he’s flubbing some of the declensions, and his vocabulary doesn’t get him as technical as he can go in Greek or Romanian. He knows his hosts will be equipped to communicate in his native tongue, but he’s also got thoughts turned to that promised library.]
I may be hopeless.
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[Alucard's smile is soft. Trying to be reassuring.]
All will go well. At least when it comes to language.
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I suppose I should stick to Greek, then. That's the only chance I have of keeping up.
[He shouldn't be so nervous. He knows Dracula. But it'll be different when he reaches the castle as a guest. Especially when he is going in knowing he has deflowered his host's son....]
What about etiquette? What do I need to know before we arrive?
[See, they can fill their evening with things other than kissing. They just...need to keep busy, so they aren't tempted. Everything will be fine and not awkward.]
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[EXTREMELY HELFUL DHAMPIR RIGHT HERE. Alucard shakes his head.]
What as it like when my father visited you?
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When you father came to stay with me, I was the host. By mutual agreement, we were loose with the laws of hospitality.
[Mostly, they'd been too busy
geeking outhaving scholarly discussions, and they hadn't wanted to waste time on formalities.]You truly think your mother won't care? Offending her is the worst thing I could do.
[Both Tepes men think she hung the moon, and getting on her bad side would get him kicked out in a heartbeat.]
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[UR GOING TO BE NERDS please chillax.]
My mother is...hm. How shall I put it? She may have derided my father for his lack of hospitality when she first knocked on his door, but in doing so she threw those same laws aside, dressed him down, and...well, I'm here.
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You said I'll be the first long-term guest. I... don't want to be the last.
[He doesn't want to
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And by being very adoring parents and Alucard wanting nothing more than to please them.]
Let them just set the standards when you get there. I can only guess at this point.
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He sighs. So much for his plan to keep himself distracted. This is making him even more nervous about reaching their destination.]
If I have nothing to brush up on, what should we do until bed?
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Crap. They have run out of things, haven't they? Alucard sighs, then shakes his head to admit that he has no idea.]
I could turn into a wolf and you could treat me like one of the dogs.
[BELLY RUBS PLZ.]
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Alright. Just for tonight.
[He doesn't want the wolf to become a crutch for them. They already have two support dogs.]
He moves over to the mattress and pats the space beside him.]
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I'll probably nod off earlier.
[However, sleeping isn't as important as belly rubs. In a moment, Alucard is in his wolf form, and he's quick to trot over and flop in a neat pile of limbs, stomach facing towards Hector.]
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That's fine. If you fall asleep on the mattress, I'll take the hammock tonight, but we're switching tomorrow.
[He lets Cesar settle back into his lap and Antonius rest his head on one thigh so they don't get jealous as he leans forward and starts giving Alucard the royal belly-rub treatment.]
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--ah. Yes. This is what relaxation feels like, and the wolf's tail wags languidly. He's far too happy like this, closing his eyes and absolutely luxuriating here.]
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He settles his back against the wall so he can keep mindlessly petting into the night, until the dogs are all asleep.
Of course, then he’s trapped, unable to get up and head to the hammock without waking them. It’s fine, he’s slept worse places. He leans his head back and lets himself doze.]
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From ship to carriage, from carriage to walking on foots into the forests of Wallachia, where the castle waits for them both. Within it's walls, the castle moves high into the Carpathian mountains, and Hector is properly welcomed.
For people who have not hosted guests in...well, never as a couple dealing with a human, the whole affair is pointedly low on formalities. Lisa is the warmest thing a room, asking Hector after his work and his personal life (and petting the dogs), with Vlad just beaming. Alucard listens, and then?
Then the work begins. Alucard doesn't have a need to be hovering with his father and Hector, and his own pursuits turn inward towards architectural design. He sits in his own work spaces, drafting, stopping for meals or to hunt for food, or to greet Cesar when the little dog pokes his head in.
Working with Dracula demands a night schedule though, and it's only now, a week in, that Alucard has well and truly seen Hector go past his own rooms. At that, the dhampir sticks his head out, an arm full of pug.]
Hector?
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At least when they get to the castle, Hector is too nervous, then too busy getting settled in to dwell long on his feelings. Dracula really is a genius, and Lisa has a way of making him want to do great things to impress her.
He needs their parental approval, so sue him.Hector's always kept strange hours, but getting onto a regular nocturnal schedule is tricky. He feels like he is just now getting his footing.
And he immediately loses it the moment Alucard calls his name. Literally, he misses a step and has to flail to regain his balance. Smooth. So smooth.]
Alucard, there you are. Your mother said you'd be up here somewhere.
[Maybe Alucard didn't see. With his superhuman eyes. That are looking right at him.]
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I am. I was also wondering if you could take Cesar? As grateful as I've been for his company while I've been working, he's also terribly distracting.
[Yes, Alucard's been petting the dog on his lap for hours while trying to do architectural drawings.]
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Of course. He hasn't been making a nuisance of himself, has he? I thought he ran off to explore the castle. I didn't realize....
[That he'd made a beeline for Alucard's room as soon as Hector had gotten too engrossed in his work to pay proper attention to him.
Hector steps into the room to collect his wayward pup
and also get a better look at what Alucard's been up to. He's wildly curious.]no subject
[Cesar seems happy enough to see Hector, although he does give Alucard a moment's look of betrayal. Alucard shakes his head, then steps aside.
It's a drafting studio, one with a large table and a number of plans scattershot over a few long tables. They show interiors with gears and other mechanical elements, not terribly unlike what exists in the castle at the moment.]
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[He wouldn't put it past the lazy little scamp.
Hector takes a look around Alucard's studio. What is privacy?]
Did you draw these?
[Hector only understands architecture as it relates to biology, so it all seems intricate and amazing to him.]
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[Alucard stands aside to allow Hector in properly. Cesar definitely wants attention, but Alucard has learned to ignore the pug. Sometimes.]
I did, yes. My father and I are collaborating on making a private keep for myself.
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Hector shakes his head at the pup.]
At least he got some exercise on the way up. I'll have to carry him back down when I go.
[Which doesn't seem to be immediately. Hector's glad of the chance to catch back up with Alucard.]
Decided you needed a space of your own, huh? Has that been in the works long?
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[Not that Cesar isn't worth spoiling. Alucard watches him go ham on the rawhide, smiling at the whole scene.]
This has been a collaboration for some time. It's more an exercise in creation rather than an intent to move out.
Your studies have been going well, I take it?
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[Alucard. ALUCARD. Think of what you'd have the freedom to do in your own private keep. You are killing this necromancer.]
My studies are going well. Your father and I have theories about a new application of necromancy. He's getting the materials ready so we can start trials soon.
[Well, at least Hector has his work. They both have their work. Who needs kisses when there are theories to test.]
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[LOOK MOM IS MORTAL HE ONLY GETS 1 LIFETIME WITH HER!!!]
...Materials. [For necromancy.]
I trust it will be ethically sources.
[That's a Lisa rule, to say the very least.]
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[Hector wouldn't kill an animal for no reason.
His ethics are probably backwards, but they make sense in his little world.]You know, having your own keep would mean having more independence. A quiet study. Privacy.
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[Mostly so he knows if they're the kind he and Lisa use for food.]
I suppose. And the castle can feel as if it has no privacy even if I am in the tallest tower and I know my parents are in the underground chambers.
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I usually start with rabbits. There’s never a shortage of them, and the successes make good pets.
[So hopefully the Tepes household likes bunnies.
...and speaking of dumb horny creatures....]
Yes, I would think a young man like yourself might appreciate a little space. For your studies. Or if you wanted a study partner.
[You know, either/or.]
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[Alucard usually relies on deer and wild boar for protein, and he keeps a careful eye on the populations as to not over hunt.]
Is that a proposition, Hector?
[Study partner. Right.]
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[It should be low-impact on the environment and sustainable. Dracula said that would be important. This is why Hector needs a mentor.]
It could be, if we had a little privacy.
[He gives an over-exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. Presumably, Alucard's quarters have some degree of seclusion from the rest of the castle.]
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[Alucard can read that shrug now. There's a few ways of responding to it, but they all begin with a very careful consideration. Hector is here, which means Hector probably should be prioritizing the work and not risking them both.
Hector stop taking calculated risks you're bad at mathDo you believe that wise?
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[He wants to know if he can. Maybe he'll make a jackalope. It'll be great.
shhhh, leave his math alone.]No, but I still want to. I said I'd leave it to you to decide. I'm just...reminding you of the options.
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[While jackalopes sound amazing, the rest is just interesting. Enough to make the vampire very thoughtful.]
Mm. I admit that one had not sprung to mind. Thank you for that.
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[It's more than a simple transfer. It is becoming a creator. The church would burn everything in a twenty mile radius if they knew. So that's fun.
If Alucard wants to distract Hector from the other conversation, this is the way. Focus back on the work.]
You're welcome to come to the lab when we begin, if you're interested.
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[Alucard this isn't Fullmetal Alchemist, stop.]
I'll await to see what happens, but once you have gone through the process a few times, I would be incredibly interested in observing.
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[This is revolutionary, Alucard, be impressed.]
Alright, I'll show it to you when I have it perfected. But you're welcome to come observe me any time.
[He doesn't wink, but it's a very near thing.]
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[Alucard's own interests mean that he pursued fewer dark arts than his father. He is literate and skilled in them, but re-animating the dead and interfering with souls? That is not the dhampir's domain.]
If you want to spend time with me though, you could simply say so.
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[He's teasing, although it wouldn't surprise him if it turned out that way. Alucard or Lisa, raising a perfect blond eyebrow and pointing to the obvious flaw in the plan...]
I thought it was obvious that I wanted that, Alucard.
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[It's said with a crooked smile, along with some level of confidence that suggests that the exact scenario has happened before.]
Hm. I need to get groceries in the next few days. Do you foresee a hole in your schedule in the future?
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[No need to be smug about it. It hasn't happened yet.]
Yes, and if there's not, I'll make one.
[It's as simple as that.]
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[He likes the idea of Alucard cooking for him; it means he is thinking about Hector, even when Hector isn't here.
He'll write up a list, though. Is it sad that some of his 'favorite' foods are determined by what his dogs like? There's little that crosses his plate that doesn't end up having bits broken off to become treats for his pets.]
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[Where else is he going to go that will be comfortable with a necromancer like this, after all?
It's not exactly a nice truth to think, but Alucard moves that fact off to the side for the time being. Instead he moves aside just a little bit more.]
You're free to look through whatever drafts are out.
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I'll try not to move anything around.
[That's something he can't stand when he's working, to have his notes reorganized or shuffled around. He goes down the desk, looking at the papers that are spread out on the table space, but not touching.]
These are good. Have you built any of them?
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It's just a small room. One that's...very similar to the one they're in now.]
I'm working on the one by your right hand. Just expanding this room.
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Oh, you did this?
[He looks around at the room around him with a more evaluating eye.]
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[Alucard's little flicker of pride is there, but muted because the work was modest.]
Two years ago. An early attempt to understand how the process works.
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[Hector isn't sure how to praise a room. He can't wax poetic about manmade structures the way he can the natural world. The...walls hold up the roof? Hector is curious how soundproof the room is, for completely innocent reasons? Why is he so lame.]
What else have you made in the castle. I want to see all of it.
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[The good news is, Alucard can take the compliment even if it's awkwardly given. He then stands, gesturing Hector to come with him.]
One of the smaller libraries and a set of rooms, meant for myself mostly. I've no intention of leaving for good, but it was agreed I should have a smaller cluster of rooms for myself and a library for my own interests, much as my mother has her medical library and labs in a different wing of the castle.
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Hector follows Alucard, because he's hopeless.]
You have your own library.
[The opulence of the castle, even after a week of living here, is still staggering. Multiple libraries. Hector considers himself fortunate to own multiple books.]
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Yes?
[Alucard then realizes that yes, that is unusual. So he falls silent for a moment, taking a sharp right and then another into the rest of his castle wing.]
Forgive me, I am so used to the matter that I forget how books are a rarity. But yes, I do have my own library. It's really just some of my father's books houses in a separate area of the castle.
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So you stripped his library of all of the texts you liked best?
[Dracula, whipped by his beloved family. It's hilarious to see the signs of it. The vampire is feared far and wide, but he is so soft for his wife and his son.]
Let me guess. Travelogues and architectural tomes?
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[Is it being whipped or just being in love? We may never know, but he is a total push over for them. That much is screamingly clear.
...Alucard huffs. How dare you call out his completely obvious taste??]
Along with a few histories and some alchemical texts, yes. Mostly for things like mortar mixing and the like. Did you know you can embed spells into the stuff to ensure certain properties?
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Fascinating.
[Hector cares nothing about bricklaying, but Alucard's interest makes it interesting.]
Have you tried it yet? Enchanting your building materials?
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[....Wait. Is that information Hector should have?]
For a full crypt, it'd be much more complex.
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[That is the most interesting thing Hector's heard all day. Consider him piqued.]
Did you happen to use those techniques in any of the chambers you built here?
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[Yes, Alucard is gesturing to a door that's flanked by the bookcases and almost filled in entirely.] that I used as an experiment. I'm afraid the room might be a bit dusty, as I rarely make use of it.
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You could make use of it. We could make use of it. You know, if you ever get bored of your studies and need some other way to pass the time.
[Kissing, Alucard. It could be your secret kiss-room.]
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Hector, is that a request for right now?
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[Hector tries to get a read on Alucard to determine if Alucard understands what he was implying. So much flirting goes straight over his head.]
Do you need a break from your work?
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[He gets the implication. To show it, Alucard holds the door open, eyes resting on Hector. Get in if we're making out.]
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[It's a good thing there's no dust, because if there was, Hector would leave a cloud in it as he shoots into the room, as quick as he can.]
Your hand's tired, huh? [He could make jokes about it, but he opts for taking Alucard's hand in his own and rubbing his thumbs into the palm.]
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It is nice, having a warmer hand in his.]
It's been a busy few days. Shall we sit?
[So much better than making out on a boat.]
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Mmm hmmm. I've barely seen you since we arrived.
[Infinitely better than the boat and that terrible straw mattress. Hector leans back against the cushions so he doesn't start crowding Alucard in his eagerness.]
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You've had a lot to catch up on with my father. Besides. I had over a week with you. It's only fair to extend that same week to him at first.
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[Wink. He is honored by the time he gets to spend with Lord Dracula, but he is also infinitely glad of what he and Alucard have between one another.]
He is done with me for the rest of the day, so I'm at your disposal.
[It is nice, both having a more comfortable settings and also not being in a rush. They have time, and thanks to Alucard's magic bricks, they shouldn't be interrupted.]
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At your disposal though. Alucard knows that is a loaded phrase, but so be it. He inches closer, putting one hand on Hector's thigh.]
Go ahead. I'm sure you've been thinking about this for a while.
[Rush right in, buddy.]
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Yes, you must know you've been on my mind.
[Subtle and Hector barely exist on the same planet. Hector leans in and presses his lips to Alucard's, starting off slow and gentle.]
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[Alucard's a little surprised that Hector's starting off slow. He doesn't mind though, and he moves his other hand so that it's gently stroking the back of Hector's neck. The warmth there is so lovely, although Hector's not about to have a lamp full of dhampir any time in the next few seconds to suck up more of that warmth.]
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He shifts a little closer so their legs touch, and deepens the kiss.]
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Legs? Legs can overstep. One crosses ankles with Hector's. Just a little nudge.]
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Noise isn't a concern now, so he doesn't hold back from lavishing attention onto the pale column of neck like he
sort ofdid on the ship. He can suck and nip to his heart's content. So he does.]no subject
But it does feel nice, and he hooks his leg around Hector's. They're just as close as they were before, but--
--oh.
The need to sneak is still present, but there is a freedom in this room. When Hector's lips move to Alucard's neck, there's no hiding the loud groan of delight that follows. The noises that come after are a far more moderate volume with such satisfaction threaded throughout.]
--Hector!
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The groans just egg him on. Hector slips a hand down to Alucard's side, fingertips sneaking underneath his shirt.
That gasp of his name has him resurfacing. He pauses and looks up, a self-satisfied grin on his face.]
Yes, Alucard?
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[Yeah, that isn't a whole lot, Alucard. But its also enough for him to angle his head downwards, stealing a kiss at a better angle to save his neck. If only for a moment.]
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He shifts on the couch so he can bring Alucard's leg closer to himself. He kisses to the other side of Alucard's neck, pale and unmarked. He licks it hungrily, teasing. He knows you like the biting, Alucard.]
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[He'd pout, but too late. Hector's moved closer, and you know what? Alucard's in a mood to be daring. After a moment or two more of wonderful teasing, the dhampir places his hands on Hector's hips and just draaaaaaaaags him so that Hector's just on his lap.]
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Do you want me to put my mouth elsewhere, then?
[There isn't an inch of Alucard that Hector doesn't want to kiss. He can move on from the neck if Alucard is worried, although from his end, Hector doesn't think accidental vampirism would be the end of the world. Dracula makes it work, after all.
He wraps a leg around Alucard to anchor himself and scoots in closer. More heat, more friction, more opportunities to make Alucard groan and really test out the sound-proofing in this room.]
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I feel as if I should ask where you want mine.
[Alucard being at the lower angle means he's far better positioned to kiss and nip at Hector's shoulders and chest.
Oh, but that leg. Alucard's not sure they can be closer together, and Hector's natural heat is a blessing. For now? There's no groaning. Only deep and heady breaths.]
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Anywhere you want. Maybe...low on the neck. Where it won't show if you leave a mark.
[He's so grateful for his high collared shirts, since he doesn't have the same rapid healing Alucard has.
He slides his hands down Alucard's back and tugs up the hem to touch his fingers to pale skin.]
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That sounds more like what you want.
[Except that was exactly what Alucard wanted to hear. Alucard's lips start right where his jawline and neck meet, and then? Then the kissing begins.
Alucard's lips travel slowly, and there are two reasons for this. The first? Pure anticipation. The second is so that Alucard can unbutton a little of Hector's shirt so that there's more neck to explore. So it goes, lower and lower and lower until hitting Hector's collar bone.
There's no biting though, not yet. Alucard repositions his hands first, the one that was unbuttoning Hector's shirt now firmly grasping his ass.]
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[Hector leans his head to the side to give Alucard a wider expanse of skin to explore. He shivers with as he feels Alucard's breath on his skin.
Hands go for his ass, and he arches up as he feels those strong fingers squeeze.]
Oh god. I wanna touch you, too. Say I can.
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Yes. Yes he wants more of this. He knows by how Hector presses against him and how his heaertbeat thunders in Alucard's ears.]
Yes. Do it.
[Words muffled against skin. Alucard picks his head up and repeats them.]
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You can do it harder.
[The squeezing, the biting, all of it. Hector can take it, and he wants more. He trails his fingers up Alucard's stomach, and then back down, slowly, questioning, at the waistband of his pants.]
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Fuck though. Alucard leans back a little, giving Hector room to undo the belt Alucard has on.]
Remove what you want now before things get too tangled.
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Hector slips his hand into Alucard's pants and cups his cock as he leans back in to kiss at his neck.]
Can I touch you like I did on the ship?
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Yes. Please. [He's being good and polite. And not even thinking about what belts can be used for in this situation.]
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He slides his fingers down the length of Alucard's cock and encircles it more tightly on the way back up. The hand on his chest sends a shiver down his spine as he strokes.]
I've wanted this every day since then. It's been hell, not touching you.
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[Here is so much nicer. Warmer. Softer, and Alucard's head tips back just a little more as Hector's hand moves up the shaft of his cock.]
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[He pushes Alucard back and kisses down his chest.]
If I make you come here, I won't have to recall that terrible mattress ever again.
[He withdraws his hand from the pants and brings both to grip Alucard's hips. He pushes the pants down to bare more of Alucard's skin to the open air.]
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You have to finish as well.
[Fair is fair in Alucard's estimation. Just as fair right now is lifting his hips up to make trouser removal easier.]
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If you could see yourself right now, you'd know there's not a chance I won't.
[Alucard well-kept is a sight to behold, but Alucard mussed is impossibly hot.
He noses further down into the wide neck of Alucard's shirt to find and lick at a nipple. He can't go too far with Alucard's hand in his hair, though he doesn't mind moving enough to feel the tug.]
Have you thought about the other things I offered? All the ways we could make each other finish?
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The hand in Hector's hair sees the pads of Alucard's fingers scratch and stroke against his scalp. It isn't much, but it's nice. A way to keep himself even keeled, until Hector licks at his chest and fucking hell his shudder is paired with aloud moan.]
Yes...I....that should happen now.
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Mmmmmh. Can I put my mouth on you?
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[He's maybe begging. A little. Because the attention is already overwhelming and he knows that this has to be a test of how soundproof the room is, not a true evening together.]
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[Hector slides down Alucard's body until his head is level with Alucard's lap. He looks up at Alucard's flushed face, winks, and wraps his lips around the tip of his cock.]
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[He can do that. In fact it's about all Alucard can manage, nails starting to scrape against Hector's scalp.
Alucard's touched himself before all of this. The boat was so much, but it wasn't an entirely new experience. Just another set of hands and new sensations. This, however, is truly uncharted territory.
The noise Alucard makes is somehow squeaky and deep at the same time. and it comes with an accidental yank of Hector's hair. To be that that enveloped in warmth, even though it's just the tip, that's a wonderful new experience.]
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He swirls his tongue around the tip of Alucard's dick, then takes a little more of it into his mouth. His hands run up and down Alucard's thighs, caressing and making sure he doesn't make any sudden movements while his cock is between Hector's lips.]
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His nails scratch in an attempt to keep things under control. The moan that follows shows how little control he really has, loud and deep and wanting.]
More. Please.
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Show me how you want it.
[He takes Alucard's cock back in his mouth and reaches up to hold one hand on the back of Alucard's, pushing his head forward, demonstrating what to do. He doesn't mind if Alucard pulls or scratches while he does it.]
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If anything is wrong, please tell me.
[He can't abide harming anyone for his pleasure.
Alucard thrusts so carefully into Hector's mouth.]
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He lets go of Alucard's hand and brings one hand to Alucard's ass to urge him up and deeper in, slowly at firstun til he can adjust to the feel of it.
The other hand, he strokes down Alucard's shaft, and further down to tickle at his balls. Hector is focusing on giving Alucard all these new sensations, even if they aren't destined to last for long.]
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Which means he's also watching Hector touch what isn't inside his mouth. The touch to his balls gets a sharp moan and a sharper tug of Hector's hair, all thanks to the sensory overload.
But like this isn't fair to Hector. So Alucard gingerly moves one of his legs, and tries to rub it close to Hector's thigh. Anything to share this feeling.]
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He reaches the end of what he can fit into his mouth without choking, so he pulls his head back and then takes Alucard's shaft again, a little faster and a little more sure of it this time. He gives Alucard's butt another squeeze, reassuring him that Hector is doing just fine.
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--a very low groan escapes, rising up from the pit of Alucard's stomach. It's a sign of being closer, along with the sweat starting to gather against his chest. The groan is tempered by softer, shorter breaths, along with Alucard's hips moving forward again.
They've both figured out how much of Alucard Hector can take. That's important, and the next thrust tries to match Hector's confidence.]
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Hector groans as Alucard starts moving in earnest to take pleasure from his mouth. He works his hand faster on the base of Alucard's shaft. Alucard's flesh is so warm now, flushed with pleasure, and Hector keeps looking up from his cock to watch Alucard come undone.]
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--One important question that he needs to get out.]
Where do you want me to finish?
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He pulls his head back and releases Alucard's cock with a wet pop.]
Come on my chest.
[His voice is hoarse and breathless. He wraps both hands around the spit-slick cock and pumps it so Alucard doesn't lose his momentum.]
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That pop? That's obscene, and it shows with how Alucard's hips speed up. It's the same time that his breath starts becoming more ragged and shallow, happily and excitedly heralding how close to the edge he is.]
Okay. I'll-- [He swallows a lump in his throat.] Do that. Fuck.
[If anything the momentum speeds up. The ragged breath becomes simply more so, until climax hits. Without anything to mute him, Alucard's moan is loud, starting deep, deep in his stomach and blossoming outward. Nails dig into Hector's scalp to draw him in close, and Alucard has such warmth and color in his face. He's undone, hair a glorious mess and chest glistening from his own sweat and build up.]
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The come is hot and sticky on his chest. Hector runs a finger through it and brings it to his lips to taste. Not much different from human seed.]
It's...a good thing...we didn't try this on the ship.
[Alucard is loud and Hector loves it. He rocks against Alucard's leg, still so turned on.]
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Extremely wise.
[But then he feels Hector against his leg, and Alucard is a little more anchored.]
Mm. Tell me how you want to finish.
[Want me to finish you. Words are hard.]
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Hector crawls back up the couch so he is eye level with Alucard.]
Use your hands. Stroke me the way you stroke yourself when you get off.
[He unfastens his pants and shoves them down so Alucard has unhindered access.]
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In the few moments it takes for Hector to join Alucard on the couch? Alucard's breathing struggles to steady itself, and the rest of his mind demands his focus turn to Hector rather than himself. It helps, having instructions.
But in turn, Alucard gives one of his own.]
Lie down on your end.
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It's to steady himself as well as tease Hector just a little. Alucard's still too warm, and his hair matted and puffed out. His hand reaches down, taking Hector for a moment, doing little more than just wrapping around him.]
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Turnabout is fair play, technically, but it doesn't mean it isn't also torturous. Hector's hips twitch, and he sneaks a hand around his lover and strokes his fingers up and down Alucard's back.]
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His strokes start out as so firm, moving base to tip with a very pointed display of vampire strength. Then? It becomes lighter. Just for a few strokes. Repeat.
Alucard's lips soon start to kiss against Hector's neck. Those are feather light, always teasing his fangs but never quite getting there.]
Like that?
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Don't kinkshame him, ok?He bucks against Alucard's hand while trying to keep his upper half still so he doesn't nick those fangs.]
Yes. So good... [He's not too proud to beg, so he adds a breathless, 'please' as he writhes beneath Alucard's touch.]
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Sorry Hector the clock is stuck at kinkshame o'clock.The fact Hector has to put so much effort into not getting impaled on fangs? That means he changes tactics, because even in all of this he knows better. Alucard's lips catch onto Hector's instead, the kisses mad and too fast and matching the new speed of Alucard's hand. There's moments of catch and release of Hector's noises, any additional pleases, all of it.]
What else do you want?
[A genuine question.]
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[Hector's words sound breathy to his own ears. How can they not be, though, when he's so close to the edge and Alucard is kissing him senseless?
He bucks against Alucard's hand more frantically. His face flushes with more than just exertion.]
And...keep pulling my hair.
[
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Harder?
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[It's practically a whimper. It is unfair, how sexy Alucard is. The hair tugging is just the right amount of hurt to intensify the pleasure of every other sensation his body is experiencing.
Alucard must be able to feel how fast his heart is beating as he licks over his pulse point on the way up his neck. Hector's fingers curl and his nails drag down Alucard's back. The tension winds tighter to the snapping point, and he doesn't know if he should push Alucard away or clutch him tighter.]
...I'm...close....
[He pants out the warning so if Alucard wants to spare himself the mess of Hector's orgasm, he can.]
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[Alucard moves his face just enough so he can repeat the action on the other side of Hector's neck. His angle is weird, but that means he's pressing down against Hector 's chest. Oh, he felt the man's heartbeat already, but now it is thundering up against his chest in that there is such a thrill. He did that. He did that.
Any more and Hector might threaten to make Alucard want a second round. But no, he focuses on those last moments, hand still pumping up and down Hector's cock to finally tip him over the edge.]
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He bites his lip to keep from crying out when he reaches his peak. He shudders against Alucard and sags back against the couch, feeling completely weightless and blissfully empty.]
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He's not moving. He's going to just stay pressed against Hector for a little while, breathing in and out and drinking in the deeply satisfied silence.]
Hmmmm.
[It's more like a happy rumble from a wolf.]
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He thinks giddily, but is smart enough not to say, that the sound-proofing must have worked because Dracula hasn't burst into the room and killed him yet.
He nuzzles his cheek against Alucard's shoulder and sighs.]
Hmmm. Think there's enough room to get a bed in here?
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[Thinking ahead, doing more of this? Alucard isn't entirely sure it is a good idea. But shit. Hector underneath him like this, warm and flush and spent? That's a good argument to keep it going.
Just as the fact his father hasn't shown up.]
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[Hector sighs again.]
Yeah, I guess it would. But it would be nice to have more room next time.
[He's trying to test the waters, to see if Alucard anticipates a repeat performance.]
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Pillows everywhere, perhaps?
[That's pretty easy to manage.]
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Yes, I think we could sneak them in with your family none the wiser.
[He resumes his stroking of Alucard's back, a lazy, soothing motion as his body starts to regain its senses.]
I could bring some oils from the kitchen, too, if you think we might need it next time.
[He is aiming for a casual tone, but he is so anxious and his face is basically on fire.]
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[Hector, are you petting the dhampir or petting the wolf? Because either way, he's pretty much a pile of content jelly from all of this.]
--Oil?
{GUESS WHAT HECTOR.]
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[Nope. Hector is bold, but he is floundering when it comes to asking Alucard what sex education he's had. Hector sags against the couch. He knows he's blushing now, and his only hope is that Alucard is too distracted to notice.]
...never mind....
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Alucard's laugh is soft and pressed against Hector's skin. He isn't moving for the next half hour, he's decided.]
Perhaps we shouldn't be rushing in that direction just yet.
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But it takes two to tango, and Hector's not going to push if Alucard isn't inclined to that particular dance.]
Alright. I do want those pillows, though. Even if it's just for lounging. [
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That can be arranged.
[[I don't know if we want to call it here and take a short break before s3 drops?]]
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For Relictusdeus
[Hector snorts in spite of his misery.]
Tea and doilies? Is that what you think I filled my time with after I left Dracula's employ?
[He falls back, placated by Isaac's yielding to his tugging, and tilts his chin up to give Isaac room to get at his neck.]
Ah! Damnation, you'd think you were a vampire.
[But he doesn't push Isaac away or do anything else to indicate displeasure at the sucking.]
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Your blood means nothing to me.
[He drawls, back to mouthing his way down his neck while the deft fingers of one hand work to unlace his shirt, baring more of him for the taking.]
...Your flesh, however, still has its uses.
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I could use it to oppose you. For all you think my power diminished, I could yet be a thorn in your side.
[Fighting words as he scrapes his nails up Isaac’s bare arm.]
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That’s cute, and he laughs into Hector’s skin, a low, rumbling chuckle, before catching his nipple in his teeth. What’s pleasure without a little pain to make it all the sweeter?]
Such a bold proclamation from a man flat on his back… [He says, peering up through his lashes at him. The scrape of Hector's nails is something he finds himself liking more than he cares to admit, so he allows it - for now.] ...and no fight in him left.
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He wraps his fingers around Isaac's biceps and digs in his nails. He bucks up. If Isaac thinks keeping him on his back is easy, well... he would have been right when he first came over, but now he's going to find it more of a challenge.]
If you want bold, how about this? I'll put you on your back, and then you'll see what fight is left in me.
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…try, and we shall see what happens.
[We shall see what becomes of you. It's a warning and a challenge rolled into one.
Isaac may have come with a purpose, but he is always one sudden movement or misread intention away from an abrupt change in course.]
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He hooks a leg around one of Isaac's leatherclad ones and twists his body around, trying to flip them over. Staying on the couch is no concern. Let them roll around the floor, scrambling for the advantage. How fitting.]
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...fuck...you.... [He gasps out. It's not that he didn't know it would end like this. 'I come in peace', like hell. Maybe if Hector pushes the right buttons, Isaac will strangle him into unconsciousness and deliver the oblivion Hector was fruitlessly seeking.]
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You were warned! [He snarls through his teeth, determined to hang on for as long as he can stand. But even as his eyes water up, he realizes that it shouldn’t be this easy. That this isn’t half of what Hector is capable of. He has proof of it across his body where he left wounds to heal unaided and scars now mark their place.
But if this is all Hector's willing to give, then maybe, just maybe, he deserves to die for what he has let himself become. And Isaac won’t pretend, while his hearing fuzzes and a numb buzzing fills his skull, that he doesn’t still feel an ugly thrill at the thought of ending a life. Not just any, but his. Getting to watch Hector's eyes go glassy and dark as he struggles, and fails.
Then something snaps through him, waking him with a start. And the moment is over. Isaac blinks and releases him with a shove, panting. His lip curls.] You pathetic excuse for a Forgemaster...!
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Yet... you didn't see it through.
[Damn it, Isaac, either fuck Hector or knock him unconscious, he's not picky at this point. His tone is accusatory. For all they dance around one another, fighting and arguing and orbiting one another like celestial bodies, they never manage to end one another. It's like they both know they cannot exist without their counterpart, no matter how they deny it.]
Fuck it. [He untangles himself from Isaac and crawls toward the nearest half-empty bottle he's left strewn around the room.] 'm not drunk enough for this.
For Heisenberg
And, more practically for Hector, wherever there is a gathering of vampires, there is bound to be a constant supply of corpses to be had. It's an efficient system- vampires feed and discard, Hector collects and forges. With an assembly of this size, Hector should be swimming in corpses, making headway into restoring the numbers of Night Creatures that have been hunted to near-extinction.
Necromancers, nature's greatest recyclers.In theory, this should be an acceptable arrangement. The reality though....]
What do you mean, they've already been spoken for?
[The reality of the situation is that with the greater gathering of vampires, there happens to be another individual here claiming corpses for his work. And apparently he outranks Hector. When the mystery individual arrives to collect his bodies, he'll find one very salty human glaring daggers at him.]
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At the very least, he is able to acquire a lot of dead bodies to continue with his planned out revolt. Of course, he says that he's just gathering them up for his own experiments and making more fodder for his matriarch. Even so, there is a lot of huffing and puffing from the vampires as they seem to think such work is "beneath them" and he should just ask the Forgemaster to make his soldiers.
It gets a little under his skin that he's thought of as inferior because he wants to be a little hands-on. That's the problem with vampires. They always want to delegate their duties. Should he be saying that as a vampire? Maybe not.
And when he arrives to collect his bodies, he is a little surprised to see a human glaring daggers at him. ]
What's with all the glaring? Your master mad I didn't come to pick these up sooner? Well, I can only move so fast. [ Heisenberg jokes as he's sure that the human also knows just how fast vampires can move if they really want to get from a-to-b. ]
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No, I'm mad you're dipping into my stocks. What are you even doing with them? They've been drained of blood and your kind don't eat flesh.
[Even worse than having his work interrupted is the thought that his work is being interrupted for no good reason.]
It's a fucking waste and Lord Dracula will hear of it.
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[ His eyebrows lift in honest surprise. It takes him a second before he claps his hands together, realizing that this must be the Forgemaster. ]
Will wonders never cease? I was told about you earlier. Most of the vampires seem to think that the two of us are peas in a pod... it's hard to tell who that is insulting more, am I right? [ He barks out a laugh at his own joke. ]
And Lord Dracula can hear all about it, because I'm revolutionizing the whole forging of the dead. [ With his free hand, he makes small circles in the air. He clenches his hand into a fist. ] I've found a way to bring them back... but without using magic.
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Still brooding, he nonetheless can't help but nibble at that bait.]
Explain what you mean, 'revolutionizing' forging. It's a magical process. Alchemy applied to biology.
[Hector has made some amazing advances in his field, but there's no way to do it without magic. It just... it doesn't work. He's baffled to the point that it outweighs his anger.]
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[ he throws his arms open like he expects others to come rushing in to give him a standing ovation. of course, no applause happens. it is just hector and heisenberg among a lot of dead bodies. ]
Fill their bodies with enough electricity and you restart something in 'em. [ he walks over to the nearest corpse, giving it a little kick. ] We can't just rely forever on you, ya know? We have to try to change with the times.
[ which is a very un-vampire thing to say, he knows. most of the lot that he is around like to keep things "as they were," but he can't say that he approves of that mentality. it might be because he was changed only a few decades years ago, but he just isn't about moving forward. ]
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He scowls.]
Electricity? There's a world of difference between simple nerve stimulation and my craft.
[Hector's an artist.]
I'll show you. We each take one corpse and make something of it, and we'll see how yours measure up to mine.
[Hector doesn't actually have the authority to demand a corpse, so it's entirely up to Heisenberg if he wants to indulge Hector's little competition.]
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[ Tomato, tom-ah-to. ]
A fascinating bet. I'll take you up on it since I need to see if I can create one of my creations outside of my laboratory.
[ Heisenberg accepts that he might always be able to be in the best situation in order to make one of his soldiers. He might actually have to do it on the fly if "Mother" figures out what he's up to, and he lets out a sigh. ]
You know... vampires should be allowed to live free. [ It's an abrupt comment that he makes as he grabs one of the legs -- picking a corpse from the pile. ] Lord Dracula is a good, ol' lord. He only calls us in every so often, but really... he's very hands off. It's the ones that like jamming their nose into everything that you have to worry about, Hector.
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He drags his own corpse from the pile, giving it a quick once-over to make sure there are no bits of weaponry still sticking in it. Some of the vampires get lazy about cleaning up after themselves.]
Do you need to be somewhere specific for us to continue?
[He's got no vampire strength, but he's strong enough from swinging a hammer all day to drag one bloodless corpse to the vampire's laboratory of choice.]
...and yes, he's a good lord. He keeps those types of vampires well away from me. We have a good arrangement here, he and I.
[Well, up until today and Dracula's indulgence of this other necromancer.]
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[ Heisenberg tilts his head back as he starts to bark out a loud laugh. ]
It's a real fine arrangement that you have. I wonder about it sometimes, but I'm sure everyone else does, too. [ Letting the corpse fall out of his hands, it hits the ground with a wet plop -- despite it only being lifted only a little bit off the ground. The vampires that murdered the poor sap really went hog wild on 'em. ]
I suppose he has a soft spot for humans due to his late wife. [ He holds his hands over the corpse. ] I wonder if he's attempting to make a new family with you two.
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[He sighs as the corpse drops onto the ground. The things he does for his art.]
You may as well bring that to my lab, then. It's well stocked, and if there's something you require that I don't have, I can send someone out to fetch it.
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[ he lets out a single sigh. ]
I guess that's as good a place as anything. [ he fills his mouth full of air and lets out puttering noises. ] Having you drag the body all the way there would be funny.
[ heisenberg steps forward to reach down to take the corpse from hector. ]
But I'm feeling generous. So, I'll take it along with mine. Seems fair, right? You're letting me use your lab, so I should be a good guest and bring the materials.
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Hector fully would have called up a Night Creature to carry his corpse, but now he's going to let the vampire haul it for him.]
How chivalrous. I'll lead the way. Be sure not to damage it any more than it is.
[Hector's lab isn't far, at least. And having his 'rival' toting his materials for him soothes Hector's bruised ego a little.]
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[ He quips back as he carries both of the corpses on his back. Heisenberg doesn't seem to mind whatever entrails or nastiness seems to pour out of them as they walk; it isn't really a concern of his, if he's honest.
It might be because he's just gotten a little too used to rummaging around the dead, but shh. ]
Might I ask why you started to resurrect the dead? From what I heard, you were doing it well before Lord Dracula came to your door and found your talent.
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He isn't here to get all buddy-buddy with his rival, but he doesn't get many opportunities to talk about his work with someone who understands it. So he figures there's no harm in answering.]
I started as a boy. I was being trained in more classical alchemy, but all I wanted was a dog. My... the man who trained me wouldn't allow any 'unnecessary expenses', but I thought he couldn't protest a pet that cost nothing to acquire and would have no need to eat. Suppose I had a natural bent for it, because I was able to piece together a ritual to raise a dead dog I found.
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[ Isn't it nice to have one's reasons for doing something boiled down? His smile is bright, if not a little bit cheery. ]
I suppose every boy wants a dog. [ He tips his chin up as he tries to remember what he wanted when he was a child, but that was so long ago that he can't actually recall what it might have been. ] It's one of those fundamentals of childhood, yeah?
[ Even though he is totting the corpses, he leans to the side so that he can nudge Hector's shoulder with his own. ]
But from what you're saying, that man did protest to an undead dog, huh?
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I'd have no idea what constitutes a normal childhood. It could be a universal childhood desire.
[He sidesteps so the vampire can't brush him again. Hector isn't inclined to rub elbows with him, the two corpses he is carrying notwithstanding.]
Yes, he did. And then I killed him. And then I got to determine what pets I could keep.
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His mouth is open wide for the laugh, but it freezes. He turns his head slightly toward Hector; his fangs visible and sharp. Heisenberg lets his expression relax as he lets out a snort, and finally closes his mouth. ]
I can't say that I'm not surprised that's the ending of that story, Hector.
[ A beat passes. ]
You really an interesting guy. I feel like the two of us have a lot in common, actually.
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The humans who make their living in the night world rarely have happy childhoods.
[So, yes, it shouldn't come as a surprise.
He looks over at the vampire, who is much more personable than he's used to. Most of the vampires in Dracula's court either disdain him for being human or resent him for having Dracula's favor. Nobody engages him in small talk like this.]
Perhaps we do. I'm interested to see you work.
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[ His tone is rather flippant, but he figures that if they are going to technically share the night with their food/resources, they should attempt to make things pleasant for them. Why not? ]
It's a bit of razzle dazzle, as the kids would say.
[ What kids? Who says this?
In any case, he is shuffling himself into the laboratory to toss the corpses onto the nearest surface. Pressing his hands on the small of his back, he stretches in an exaggerated fashion, like that actually put him out. ]
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[It's a lie, but it is not one Hector is telling to Heisenberg, per say. It's the lie he tells himself. Some days, he believes it.
Hector is similarly out of the loop with what the youths are saying, so he lets Heisenberg's second comment go by unquestioned. With a snap of his finger, a night creature emerges from an alcove and lifts the corpses onto the slab-like tables Hector keeps around his lab for his work. He didn't need to snap to get the job done, but it's as much a show as the vampire's feigned back pains.
A couple more creatures slip out from the shadows. All of them have glowing blue eyes, the mark of Hector's handiwork.]
You can ask them for the materials you need. They don't talk, but they understand well enough.
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[ Heisenberg pauses to tilt his head up to look toward the ceiling, like he is directing his gaze upon Lord Dracula himself. His voice isn't filled with disbelief or good-natured humoring, but honest curiosity. Mother, again, tends to keep her brood relatively under heel. They are only brought out because Dracula forced her hand -- which may one day result in her trying to murder him which in turn will get her killed.
But he hopes that doesn't happen, because he wants to be the one that kills her. ]
Oh. [ His gaze is directed down and towards the creatures' arrival. He purses his lips as he gives an appreciative nod at the creations. ]
You know, one of these days, all of this is going to be possible through science. [ He steps forward towards the little helpers and starts to give them instructions on what he needs. It is mostly items that would help amplify and carry a current of electricity. ]
Magic, as we know it, will become something even the common folk can do.
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[That protection might not extend past the borders of Dracula's admittedly extensive domain, but it is an improvement on how life had been for Hector before. Hector doesn't need to be loved or accepted. Being feared is enough to keep him alive and able to work, so he'll take it.]
I'm not one of those who argues that magic and science are two distinct practices. Some 'magic' is just science. But whether the common folk will accept either one, that's another conversation entirely.
[And of course, there's the question of whether those with power will allow it to be handed off to the masses. Hector is not one who would try to stifle learning, but many of the vampire lords he's met in Dracula's employ are worse than dragons with how they horde their knowledge and power.
But Heisenberg is another odd one like himself, willing to show his methods to another practitioner. Maybe he would be willing to make his teachings more widespread.]
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[ Heisenberg decides not to say that most of the humans think that he and his family are lords of their land. Not that they don't do anything other than turn them into werewolves, and engage in other experiments, but details. ]
That is, indeed, another conversation. It's like with any thing... you can lead a horse to water, but yadda-yadda-yadda.
[ He makings a talking gesture with his free hand. With his other, he starts to arrange the various objects that he has asked for. While he says that it's all science, well, that is what he believes even as he starts to charge the bolts that are jammed into the body with electricity that he creates. ]
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Yep. Humans are stubborn sons of bitches. Almost as bad as vampires.
[It's a joke, but also the truth.
Hector picks up his favorite hammer. Time for his magic vs. Heisenberg's science.]
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[ He spreads his hands out over the corpse, striking it with electricity. Some portion of the flesh start to sizzle and it smells well like a rotten barbecue, but more importantly, the body twitches enough to actually sit up. ]
It's alive! Alive!
[ Heisenberg says with a little too much drama and flourish. He fuses swords onto both of the once corpse's arms, and calls it good. ]
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[Hector sure hasn't. And he's met quite a few vampires in his short years.
He rolls his eyes at the dramatics. 'Alive', huh? Well, the thing is moving, at least. It's impressive, for someone who isn't a necromatic practitioner, but Hector is definitely bias to his own process.
Hector looks down at his own corpse, tries to envision what shape it will take. He swings his hammer, which stops in the air above the body but rings out a metallic clink as if it struck an anvil. Magic washes over it, glowing and blue, forming the connection between the empty shell and a damned soul from hell offering up servitude in exchange for an escape. A second strike to bind them together, and third to reshape the body into something more suiting for Dracula's army. He sticks with the classics, an aquatic merman. Dracula likes to keep a few in the watery caverns in the basement of the castle, a little surprise for trespassers.
A few more tweaks, and the creature's eyes open. It hops up from the slab and twirls, seeking out its creator.]
There. This one's actually alive.