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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“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.

“...with the castle?”

He repeats that, but stays at the mirror, watching her until the peices fall apart completely. And until the mirror separates. There’s a painful lump in his throat, seeing her again for the first time in a few years. Knowing that she might have been in danger all this time. Seeing her and hers travelling through the winter instead of waiting out the snows at the Belmont estate and knowing that the young and old and sickly will be suffering terribly for it. It’s only when the last part of the mirror falls that he realises why his eyes are so blurry and scrubs at them with his hands (pathetic) and runs to catch up with Adrian.

“Wait, the castle still moves? I thought it didn’t anymore.” He knew that the building had shook when Adrian entered, but he’d assumed that was just Vampire Bullshit. “-was that what all of that earthquake shit was, yesterday?”

There's a wry smile as he glances over his shoulder at Katalin. "The castle will adhere to its master -- and no one has been its master since I assumed its control. I suppose it was easier for Trevisan to lie, say the castle's been broken for the past 300 years. No one would've been able to question him, really."

The doors open after Adrian unlocks them, giving them the afternoon view of the dreary looking woods of where the Ţepeş Crypt is kept. That, and the floating engine that waits for the command of its master.

"I summoned the castle yesterday," Adrian explains. "Hence the aftershock of what you felt. I wasn't interested in wasting time when you were shown to me. ...Regardless of whatever he said, I knew I had to come."

Daylight. Real, beautiful, blessed daylight. He runs out as far as he can toward it. The day is heavy and cloudy, but even with that-

-it’s daylight. He hasn’t seen it in so long. He can tell what time it is. He can taste rain on the air. He can see the world in its real colours, without the slight tint that the lightning-torches of the castle cast upon everything. And it’s a lot. It takes all he has not to tear up again, two months of hell finally, finally starting to catch up to him. It’s that, that and Adrian’s words, how he literally moved the castle to be there sooner in a stranger’s time of need-

He moves up close behind Adrian and bows his head, resting his forehead in his hair, at the back of his neck.

“Please don’t die. Don’t go back to sleep. Please.”

The plea does clench at his heart, and his throat tightens. Adrian closed his eyes, covering his mouth; such a short time Katalin has known him, yet he's asking for him to stay. It's almost too much, but also perhaps what he needs to hear.

Even if all they do is let Sophie and him meet, ensure the Speakers are safe, then maybe...

"All right." He couldn't conceive saying no to him after hearing him. "Then don't do anything foolish. Don't..." Adrian exhales, steadying his expression before turning to face Katalin. "Don't get kidnapped by anyone else, hm?"

“Foolish things are all I know how to do.” He says, as if closing his eyes to the world isn’t all that Adrian knows how to do, and he’s scrubbing at his eyes again, voice a little too high. “But- fair is fair. I’ll do my best.”

He doesn’t even know how he feels any more. Everything is hitting him at once with the sunlight, until all that he can feel is fear and gratitude and determination not to let Adrian just cease to be in the same world as him. He stares at Adrian for a good twenty seconds, and then seems to make up his mind about something.

And he moves forward, wrapping his arms around the vampire, pulling himself against him.

“I’ll stay. For as long as I can, I’ll stay.”

It'd just taken a bit more of his strength to keep a calm expression, because even now Adrian is a man of unfortunate habits who withdraws and keeps to himself with the notion of not desiring to burden himself onto others. But he did unravel some of that with Sypha and Trevor, who were determined to keep him from locking himself away from the rest of the world, who bothered and bothered until he was able to give more of his raw emotion.

When Katalin embraces him, Adrian goes still for a moment. Though his arms are steady and he slides his arms around the other man in return, he is unable to stop himself from letting a few tears go finally, no longer able to hide that part of him from Katalin.

"You have a home, if you need it. Understand?" he whispers. "You deserve that, and I would give it to you."

This feels correct. He doesn’t know why, because it was a stupid thing to do (and it’s a little laughable, how he agreed not to do foolish things before immediately throwing himself into the arms of a man who is, despite being his rescuer, a practical stranger), but it does.

“Home.” He repeats, and he says nothing more for the moment. Instead, he buries his head in Adrian’s shoulder.

Truly and honestly, Adrian wants to weep. He's glad to share the castle with someone. Whether or not it's true, if this is indeed his stupid, wonderful Belmont from centuries ago, Katalin is still good. And he would protect that.

"I have ... seen my fair share if people in the world. Some who do their best, despite the awful circumstances. Despite every terrible thing thrown at them. Others who are despicable opportunists." Wiping his eyes, Adrian pulls back, his hands on Katalin's shoulders. "Perhaps you are not their blood, but your heart is a noble Belmont. That I won't doubt."

It's been barely two days, but he's seen enough. Watched this man's sincerity, his kindness, and he is certain.

"Let's bring you to your friend."

He has a home. He has a home. He didn’t expect that to mean anything to him, didn’t think he needed it, until suddenly it’s something that he has and he can’t keep himself from trembling with sobs. He’s so tired. So, so tired. It hurts, every muscle still aches. His wrists are scarred from the manacles digging into them for so long. He’s not sure there’s a place on his body that isn’t bruised green and yellow and purple and black. And perhaps, perhaps he was maybe afraid. Afraid to die. Afraid to not die, and to be trapped here for years. But he has a home, now, and homes are safe.

He squeezes Adrian tightly to himself before letting go and nodding.

“Sophie. She’ll- she’ll be worried. I’ve not been writing to her, while I’ve been here.”

He sounds oddly guilty about that, as if he ought to have been capable of doing so.

The sobbing only earns a soft, sympathetic gaze, and he reaches out to gently thumb away Katalin's tears before smoothing his hair back. It feels natural to do in this moment. It doesn't hurt he looks like one of his lost loves, but Katalin himself clearly needs the comfort and reassurance. He isn't worried right now about looking weak or anything of the like.

And Adrian finds he wants to protect him.

"That's hardly your fault," he assures gently. "Let me take care of the rest."

Turning around, Adrian looks to the engine. With a bit more power in him and being as close as he is, it's less strain to control it now. Holding out his hands, Adrian concentrates on where they had seen the Speakers.

Gazing out to the view, Adrian quietly says farewell to the crypt for now.

Gears turn, electricity sparking over the engine. In an instant the castle transports itself, appearing only a short distance where the Speaker tribe is finishing packing their belongings for a harsh journey.

They've noticed. From the high vantage point, the tiny blue specks can be seen rearranging themselves. Some are quickly shepherded into the safety of the wagons, while others move backward slowly, defensively, protecting the others.

And then one is moving toward the castle, sped along by wind magic beneath her feet.

"Sophie! That's Sophie!" Katalin yells, scrubbing his eyes and nose, suddenly just as bright and overjoyed as he was hurt and delicate only a moment ago. From this distance there's little to differentiate her from the other speakers. So apparently he recognises her by virtue of her desire to fight a vampire castle.

Seeing the Speaker that's using magic to rush toward the castle makes him raise a curious brow. Not exactly the initial instinct that he would expect out of most people, but it's hard not to be endeared by how excited Katalin is. Adrian smiles a little, then turns to begin his descent in order to exit the castle.

"Come. You should greet her proper."

He wonders what to expect. Though Sophie clearly has a familiar face and hair just as fiery as in his memories, she certainly seems more... fierce than he's expecting.

Then again, Katalin is much softer than Trevor ever had been, but the stark differences are not things that actually truly bother him. It's charming, actually.

He doesn’t need to be instructed to do that much. Only guided, he learns when he dashes ahead of Adrian and realies that he has no idea at all where he’s going.

“You’ll love her. You’ll love her so, so much. Everyone does, everyone who ever set eyes on her-“

Excitable, clearly exaggerated praise spills out of him as he half desperately tries to navigate the castle and half follows Alucard through it until they’re at the doors, and already there’s the sound of something small and solid slamming against them.

(He gave her that knife, the last Christmas before she couldn’t return to the Belmont house. The blade was from one of his old ones, no longer useful for his hunting but good enough for the work of camping and survival. The handle he made himself, and it bears all the scars of a first try.)

“Sophie!” He calls out as the doors open at Adrian’s approach. “You’re- you’re safe, thank god.”

They had very nearly been packed, when all of a sudden a strange energy had begun to crackle in the air, and a rough wind had picked up out of nowhere — not blown so much as displaced, as the space it had once occupied was suddenly and abruptly overtaken by something else.

The old stories have always been Sophie's favorites, in a way that she's never quite been able to explain. All of the Speakers preserve them, of course, but it's somehow always been easy for her to keep them — unusually easy, bright and vivid with detail that she secretly suspects that it was only her imagination adding in, except that those details never seem quite as made-up as they probably ought to. And it's because of those old stories that she remembers the one about a castle that moves, a terror that crosses the land swifter and more immediate than any caravan could ever hope to travel. She's never seen it (of course she hasn't; no one ever has), and yet still she knows how it must have looked, with its spindly towers and skyward spires and lack of apparent logic to its construction.

In her imagination, it looks — well. Rather like the castle that does show up. The one that whips the surrounding nature into a frenzy, that throws its shadow over land that once was bright (if not altogether warm, given the winter), and sends the other Speakers scattering in apprehension of the unprecedented phenomenon in their midst.

But she knows. She knows what one does with a castle like this, somehow, and it might be from the stories, but it might also be from a story that no one ever told her — one she only just discovered in tandem with the sight of the thing, one that shakes all over in her memory and resonates through her limbs in a way she couldn't hope to explain.

She knows she needs a knife. The knife is important. The castle is important, and the knife, and she needs to bang on the doors with the pommel of it, because that's important, too. She has one, luckily — an old gift from a holiday that Katalin had cared about much more than she had, a possession that stays permissible in the camp both because it was a gift and because it counts as a tool instead of a weapon.

She has a knife. The castle is there. The story is inside her.

So she goes, with wind at her feet to speed things along (not part of the story, but just efficient), and gets herself up to the doors and starts banging, and knows that something will happen when she does, sooner or later.

It turns out to be sooner.

It also turns out to be Katalin, who is not supposed to be in a castle, and who is not supposed to be looking scrawny and half-dead and decked out in too-big clothes that hang off his frame and show off the bruises on his neck and his wrists and —

Oh. There's someone else there, too.

Which is how Sophie Aurin, eldest daughter of the Aurin family, proceeds to invite herself over the threshold of a big spooky castle she's never seen before, knife in hand and determination glittering in the steel of her eyes, and bodily inserts herself into the space between Katalin and the stranger he's with, her expression a challenge daring to be taken up.

"What is this?" she demands, which is probably a stupid question coming from anyone with, well, eyes, but they all have to start somewhere, don't they.

"Perhaps not half as much as you seem to," Adrian gently teases Katalin with a wry smile.

Whatever he expects, truly Adrian does not know. What he does know is how quickly Sophie moves in order to put herself between him and Katalin -- which, granted, he could not blame her. If anything he values her instincts, how determined she is to protect the man. The knife does not instill fear, though it does earn a raise of his brow.

But in her face, in her gaze, he sees Sypha, his fierce beloved untamed Sypha. Sophie has a fire that is different, but they share it nonetheless.

He can't help but smile, even if his heart aches at missing her. Missing both of them. Still, he has promised Katalin, and he will keep it.

"It is, perhaps, best if Katalin explains to you, Sophie Aurin. But know that I am relieved to know you are safe and well."

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