reposing | reincarnation vampire lord

reincarnation vampire lord | miraclewhip

Ultimately, what ends up being the most logical choice is the one he hates the most, but there have been many people vying for the power vacuum that Dracula had left. The greedy, the pompous, self-righteous -- too many have tried to claim the empty throne in his father's castle, and all have fallen. But the courts will never be happy to leave it vacant, and he's tired of the fighting.

So he takes it himself, crushing anyone that tries to overthrow him. Otherwise, he prefers to be merciful and benevolent, even if he loathes the politics and having to outright police the rest of the creatures of the night.

It isn't the most ideal. He sees Trevor and Sypha less than he'd prefer, wanting instead to be with them, watch their children grow, to love them. And he does, but just not as much as he'd like.

"They will die one day, my lord," one of the other vampires warn. "Would you fall into the same cycle as your father before you?"

It is a thought. Alucard knows what the intention is: to turn them into vampires like him. But he could never throw them into his world, a world of night and never having daylight. To survive as does. To truly force a Belmont into what they've hunted after all this time? Unacceptable. So he lets them live as they are, human and wonderful, until their last dying day.

And it is on that day that Alucard locks himself away from the rest of the world, deep in the earth with the crypt of his mother and father. To sleep, now that there is nothing else waiting for him alive.

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Adrian worries, quietly, about projecting onto Katalin. But he sees pieces of Trevor in him, even more now than when he first glanced at him. Even his hand fits right, warm, somewhat callused.

"Most vampires don't sleep often, but I suppose you have a point." Adrian glances over his shoulder at him. "The castle was not intended to be used particularly much after I left it. Its most important parts were locked away by myself -- and the castle only heeds one master."

And after Dracula, it was but a building until Adrian took it years ago when he stepped into his father's place at last.

True to his words, there are many sealed doors. He can see scratches and scorches, likely attempts to unbind them, but ultimately without the will of the castle's master they could not be forced apart. The guests rooms he didn't bother with, and fortunately they don't seem like much of a mess.

He pushes the door open. "I'll see about replacing your clothing, if you'd like. Down the hall should still be one of the bathrooms." Adrian hesitates. "Do you... need anything else?"

He doesn’t. How could he possibly need anything else? It’s been only two hours, maybe, since he woke up chained to the walls of this place for something like the eightieth time after passing out from being fed upon. And now he is free, and a guest here, fed and soon to be clean and free to sleep in a bed for the first time in far, far too long. Whatever he feels about all of this other than gratitude and rage at this man’s apparent plan to die, he can feel it in the morning.

“Clothes-“ He hasn’t thought to consider that until now. The ones he was wearing then he came here are gone somewhere, along with every weapon and lockpick and silver thread hidden in them. He’s been bathed and had his clothing changed a few times since he came here, always in his sleep, but everything he’s put in tends to look alive after a while. Worn around the shoulders from being rubbed against the stone wall at his back. Stiff and grey with dirt. Spotted with dried blood in places. “-please. I didn’t think I was the type to care about clean clothes, but this is a little much even for me.”

A wry smile forms on Adrian's face, even if it's brief. "Have a bath," he suggests. "I'll see what I can find that's survived the years, or if the vampires left anything useful. I should likely do similarly."

He has been sleeping in the same clothes for like 300 years, so he supposes he should probably do something about that. One last glance is given to Katalin, then he turns away to head down the hall to do exploring.

And to have a shred of privacy, admittedly. This entire thing is... complicated. More than he'd like it to be. After all of this time, he knows he still mourns everything and everyone. Mother, Father, Trevor, Sypha -- and at the end of it, he wonders if it's true. If they are here again, reborn.

Adrian closes his eyes, a few passing tears falling from him. Quickly, they're wiped away before he sorts through the belongings left behind in order to find clothes that fit them both before he goes to return to Katalin.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time to figure out what purpose the strange metal blood vessels of the castle must serve, but Katalin is delighted when he does. Hot water is a blessing for his sore body, and he finds that he didn't really understand how badly he ached until it starts to fade. Which is, he supposes, the best time to become aware of a pain.

His hair is longer than he remembers. He really has been here a long time. He's missed Christmas, and that's upsetting. (There are things to be upset about that are more important than that, really. But he can't bring himself to care about that now. If he could, he might be inconsolable. As it is, he just sets about washing the blood from his hair.

When Adrian returns, Katalin is curled up as tightly and small as a man his size can be in the bedsheets, occasionally snoring softly.

Looking over Katalin as he returns, he looks softer than Trevor ever did. There are similarities to be sure; they're both passionate in their ways, of course. Though Trevor was always wary and rough from how the world treated him, there was never denying the passion in his heart, and the brightness in his eyes when he found something worthwhile.

In Adrian's arms, he has clothing that he thinks should fit. Warmer colors, browns and dark reds, and a coat that might be a bit big but warm enough if it's needed.

He chooses to not disturb Katalin, leaving the clothing to the end of the bed before taking his leave. Best to leave him to sleep. Who knows when was the last time he had proper rest? Truthfully, he doesn't even know how long he's been kept prisoner here.

There's a lot, still, he's yet to discover about him.

Adrian leaves the castle, but only a short while in order to hunt and find himself prey. Fresher animal blood is only a small step up from the stored vats in the kitchen from who-knows-when, but it'll still work to nurse Adrian back to a better strength. That, and the rabbit's meat can be used for a stew, which he leaves on a low boil for now. In a few hours, it'll be fit enough for a meal whenever Katalin wakes.

For Adrian's part, he unlocks the lab, sealed away from unwanted hands 300 years ago. Now open to him, Adrian steps inside, approaching one of his father's old viewing mirrors, commanding the shards to form together before carving runes into it.

From here, he sees the world. How different and how much the same it is. It's different than visiting it for himself, but at least it gives him a glimpse of what is out there. It saddens him to see how things are. How the Belmont estate is. How everything has changed, most of it not for the better it seems.

"I still love them."

His skin is ruddier now he's washed himself, hair dried in such a way that it's sticking out at ridiculous angles. Cuts and bruises stick out a lot more clearly, now, but he looks so much more alive. The clothes are a little too big, but right now so is his skin. He's lost a lot of muscle mass in his time here, but it doesn't seem to him like anything that can't be reversed with time spent eating properly and moving around. His tone is contemplative in a way that doesn't really suit him.

In the mirror, a family breaks bread with a group of conquerors. It's sickening.

"I know that they are doing what they must. I can't fucking hate them for it. It's just- It hurts. To compromise on this, of all things."

Trevor would have so much more conviction his voice, Adrian thinks, but he also respects how introspective Katalin is. He looks over the man, expression soft, thoughtful.

"The path of least resistance," Adrian says quietly.

He could liberate them, but at what cost? What innocents would suffer for it? How much would Adrian need to plot and consider in order to protect as many people as possible? But, ultimately, he knows his focus is finding Sophie, for both of their sakes.

"Is it morning already?" he murmurs, frowning. "I truly do lack a sense of time these days." Adrian stands from where he's seated, waving his hand to the mirror and letting it float into a pile of shards, the visage ending.

"There's stew in the kitchen for you. I have ideas of what we can do next that we should discuss as well."

“We already have so much to fight. I can’t- I can blame them for choosing their battles, but I can’t hate them for it.”

He keeps repeating that, that he can’t hate them for it. Like it’s a mantra. Like he needs to believe it in order to live. He watches the mirror return to a mess of broken glass. Watches as his family breaks into tiny, traitorous peices. They have to do this thing, he says, and only in his ungrateful shit of a heart does he whisper that they are an old family, a respected family of no small means, the kind of people who are protected from the invaders they shelter by name and means and who will never see consequences for whatever choice they make.

(Part of him rebels against that thought. Part of him hates himself for it. Part of him has seen fire and smelled burning flesh and knows full well what the consequences of a choice might be.)

“...I don’t know when it is.” He admits, sounding a little confused by himself. He’d all but forgotten that day and night existed as anything other than the domain and bane of vampires. That they were times, and that traditionally one woke at one and slept at the other. It’s odd to remember. “I woke up just now, if that’s what you mean? But I’ve not passed a window yet.”

And then, because he really cannot overstate this- “...but food would be really fucking good. I forgot that being hungry feels like shit.”

Sympathetic golden eyes look at the other man, compassionate and understanding. "Katalin, you are within your right to disagree with what is done. It is the inaction of a man that can feel just a cruel as the one who takes action against you."

He has seen it. He has been living it. He knows it well.

Adrian rises to his feet, his smile coming at more ease. "Then eat. I made plenty for you. Fresh meat, and cooking for awhile. It's yours. I can only imagine how little you've been fed since your being here."

Which, as he begins to lead out of the laboratory, he frowns in realization. "...How long did the vampires hold you prisoner for?"

It’s hard not to feel like this is all the Belmonts choosing the easy way over him. Over Sophie. Over people who ought to matter.

(And yes, he ought to matter. He didn’t think that, three centuries ago. He didn’t matter until she loved him, and even then he only mattered because she did. In this life, at least, she has loved him since the start. And so he has always mattered, just a little. He can justify being a little selfish, because Sophie said that she would miss him now that she couldn’t return to the Belmont house.)

He doesn’t say that, though, because he is far hungrier than he is comfortable with expressing difficult emotions.

“Enough to recover from blood loss.” Is his ansewr to the first question. And for all the horror that answer implies, his tone is downright cheerful in comparison to how it falls at the second answer. “...I think I missed Christmas.”

He sounds more deeply cut by that than by anything else save for Adrian’s sleeping schedule. He has his priorities in order.

The answer does, quite honestly, horrify him. Adrian thought improperly that, perhaps, Katalin was held for no more than a week at most, maybe two. But for so long...

"I'm--" A sigh and Adrian glances away. "I am so sorry that I've put you in this position. It is a cruel thing what they did to you, all for a grasp of power. Clearly I should have destroyed the rest of his followers. Perhaps I was too merciful."

But that wouldn't give Katalin back his time, his life. For all that's happened, Katalin has taken things quite well, oddly enough. Still, Adrian does feel responsible for what's happened.

“It was kind of shitty.” He says, so very eloquently. “But I’m alive. I wouldn’t be. If they hadn’t thought I’d be useful. And He’s dead. And- this is what Belmonts do, right? Even estranged ones. Die in feeding cells.”

Adrian can blame himself if he likes but Katalin is already making his way toward the kitchen. Even having eaten recently, he’s aching from hunger. Fresh meat, Adrian had said, and right now there’s little that sounds better.

“And- I should probably be more grateful. I’ve had a roof over my head most of the winter, because of this. Christmas would have been fucking weird away from home, anyway.”

"You have a very interesting perspective," Adrian muses softly. "I wouldn't expect you to look at it with such silver lining."

Not that he finds fault in it. It is so easy to find only the negative things in one's experience, but Katalin doesn't seem so cynical. He wishes he had that ability, but it's certainly charming.

Once in the kitchen, Adrian is arranging a bowl for Katalin. Though really the entire pot is for him, he still considers himself the host right now and Katalin the guest. He would treat him right, especially after all that he's dealt with.

"I have wine, ale, or water." For himself, he's already pouring wine. Even if it doesn't do anything to affect him, he still has a fondness for the taste.

“Much as I truly, truly want to say ale-“ And fuck does he want to say ale, he’s not had a drink in apparently months. But he’s also only just getting enough to eat and drink after two to three months of sustiained blood loss. “-water is probably the better idea. Head alredy fucking hurts. It doesn’t need help.“

He takes the same seat he took last night, staring at the stew pot in a way that’s- honestly rather similar to the way he looked while talking about Sophie. Like it’s the answer to his prayers. In answer to Adrian’s earlier statement he only shrugs.

“Shit would get upsetting really fucking fast, if I didn’t. I fucked up. Forgot there are vampires who can do the compulsion thing. ‘Could’ now, I suppose. Mistaken identity or not, this shit meant I don’t die yet. Can’t ask fror more.”

There's a wry smile, but Adrian doesn't elaborate. He doesn't think that Trevor would have really declined, but-- ah, he should stop comparing, really. Even if the differences are interesting, they have enough similarities as well.

A cup of water is given to Katalin, and Adrian sits across from him as before, looking less tired than previously.

"You're allowed to want for more beyond not dying," Adrian muses, teasing him a little. "But I suppose in your life, it's been hard to want for more."

He considers. "After we find Sophie, what do you plan to do? Perhaps the Speakers would take you in."

“Not dying yet.” He corrects, because it’s an important difference when vampires are involved. “There- isn’t much more, not really. Never is if you chose to take up the whip.”

If that’s something he’s bitter about, he doesn’t sound it. He doesn’t sound grimly accepting, either. It’s just a calm statement of fact, as if he were commenting upon weather or something equally inane. When asked about the speakers, he first stares at Alucard as if he’s asked something very, very strange, but then shakes his head.

“Can’t. I don’t do well with the fucking vow of nonviolence. S’why they dumped me on the Belmonts in the first place. Some nasty peice of shit fucks around with them, and even if they’re at knifepoint they want you to just ask them nicely not stab them.”

They’d scolded Sophie for it, once. When they were young. One of her grandfather’s friends was attacked and the two of them had driven the assailant off, a spear of ice through his weapon hand. And the man had stood, beaten half to death, and told the both of them that this is not what we are. And Sophie had sunk in defeat. But he had known that it was what he was, known that what he was would always be a boy with a borrowed walking stick for a club putting himself between things that would hit people and people who might be hurt, and that that meant he would never be a Speaker.

“But- I’m just going to do my family’s work, of course. Find nasty things that want to hurt people. Kill them. Try to do a better job of it than I did this time.”

Perhaps he shouldn't be, but Adrian is terribly endeared by how determined Katalin is to live by the proper Belmont ideal. Maybe he is hardened enough, maybe not, but he likes the spirit and the genuine heart he has. Trevor's was more difficult to fine, but just as genuine. Like a rough stone that would glimmer in the sun when turned just right.

"And are you armed at all, Katalin?" Adrian asks, chuckling. "Were you before the vampires found you?"

For Adrian's part, he has no desire to really be caught up in battles any longer, but...

But, he thinks, he should certainly linger and ensure that Katalin is fit and armed. He rather likes him, after all.

“I-“ He’s being laughed at, isn’t he? He pouts into his glass of water at it, ears reddening, sounding more chastised than Trevor Belmont ever did in his life. “-I was. Before. My things might still be here somewhere. Probably.”

And it’s almost impressive, how quickly he goes from that stumbling doubt to complete certainty. Even if he’s still pouting a little and not meeting Adrian’s eyes.

“Don’t need them, if not. Still have hands, that’s more than enough.”

Gently, he places his hand to Katalin's wrist, smiling warmly at him. "Forgive me. I like your conviction is all. It's not what I was expecting out of you and I suppose it is refreshing in comparison to everything else for me to wake up to. If that is the path you desire, I would help supply you with it."

Although he is also terribly endeared by how flustered Katalin is.

"But trust me when I say fists aren't enough for some vampires," he muses. "I've no doubt I still have some items that can help you. If nothing else, I would certainly feel better if you could defend yourself."

“Oh.”

At the weight against his wrist, he looks up. He does meet Adrian’s gaze now, though if anything his ears are redder.

“...I’d forgive you for doubting me. I know- I know that the circumstances make it hard to believe, but I trained for this. I can do it. I just fucked up this time.” He’s speaking partially to Adrian and partly to himself again. He does that a lot, it seems, when he’s trying to convince himself. “The help would be appreciated.”

"I almost think you'd have had it easier if they simply attacked you rather than intending to make you a bargaining chip. In any case, I will help where I can. I couldn't say they opted to keep your monster-killing equipment, but I've no doubt it could be replaced."

And perhaps he has stored some of Trevor's old belongings, at least ones that would have survived the centuries.

"Finish your meal. First, we'll attempt to locate Sophie. Then we can worry about arming you proper."

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. It’s hard to tell if he’s always this entuseastic about his food (Trevor always did eat as if he didn’t know whether he’d actually get a next meal, even after finding a home and family) or if he’s simply been very, very hungry for a long time, but either way the bowl is clean within the minute. Apparently at the expense of actually remembering to breathe, given by his gasps afterward.

“It’s-“ Wait, no, false start. He needs to finish breathing. “-it’s none of it irreplaceable. Not really.”

It hurts to lose the last things his family gave him before he left, but they’re just things. He can’t get sentimental about them. This is difficult, because he is exceptionally good at getting sentimental about things. A shirt with silver thread laced through it. Knives. A whip of leather braided around a core of silver wire and treated with annointing oil. Some of it will be a pain to replace, but nothing is impossible to have back.

“You’re right. Sophie. Sophie comes first. If she’s in danger I’ll just- find something to hit the danger with.”

It is, in his opinion, a solid battle plan.

"Perhaps. But it's different when it's from family."

And he speaks, knowing full well what that is like. There are many things in his life that he's lost. There'd been a day that he wept irrationally when he lost his father's wedding ring; a simple metal band, but Hell if it didn't torment him when he couldn't find it any longer. It's just a possession, true, but he held onto what he could, for it's all he ever had left.

"In a way, what I give you will still be from your family, Katalin," Adrian offers softly. "It is still from the Belmonts. And your heart certainly is part of them."

Blood is nothing, and heart is everything.

Adrian offers his hand, and should Katalin take it they step back into the halls to approach the laboratory once more. With a gesture of his hand, the mirror shards being to reassemble.

"I need you to focus on her. Her face, your memories." Adrian presses his palm to the mirror. "I can imagine what she may look like, but you know better than I do. With your intent, the mirror should reveal her to us. Then I know where we must go."

He nods quietly in response to that, and it’s without hesitation that he takes Adrian’s hand this time. It’s easier to put the thought from his mind, that way. It’s comforting.

“Sophie.” He whispers under his breath, staring into the mirror. And he focuses. He focuses on short red hair, made shorter by the tight curls of it. On freckles, even in winter. On long blue robes, and the winter they spent embroidering the lining of them with stars and flowers so that even if it couldn’t be seen she would know that they were unique and her own and different from those of the people around her. On nights spent following contellations in the winter sky, and days spent hunting down particular herbs and a soft, concerned gaze as small hands held a damb cloth to his cuts. On smiles, small and bright. On lost tempers and tears. On lightning gathering in her hair and pulling it upward. On a flame passed into his trembling hands to keep them warm. Images flash over the mirror, too quick to really see properly, of a girl growing into a woman.

She’s worth living for.

There’s a camp in the mirror, being packed up to move on. Bags being pulled up onto an open wagon. And a woman, one with blue robes and a warm, joyful presence, taking inventory of medicines and herbs for the journey ahead.

Truthfully, Adrian isn't certain what to expect, who he'll end up seeing. But between the resemblance Katalin has and the sight of familiar red curls, it's almost too much. Adrian holds his breath, knowing tears burn the edges of his eyes. The evolved but familiar style of Speaker robes, their caravan.

Her face, still as beautiful as he remembers Sypha's.

But he has no time for his mourning or nostalgia. Adrian will keep his word.

"Very good," he whispers, blinking away the temptation. "Our journey will be a short one with the castle."

Without waiting, Adrian begins to head toward the engine room. The closer to it that he is, the less strain there will be for him to command the castle.

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