Do you always keep your hair so long? I think yours might be longer than mine, even, and mine always gets in the way if I don't pin it back. How do you keep it from going all a mess?
I have for ages, yes. Though I'll admit it's gotten a bit longer than usual in the past few months. I'll admit that I don't exactly have typical means to keep it as it is.
Oh. Well, um. The physicians said it was his heart. His heart failed him.
I'm not sure if there's a simple way to explain it, but. There was a certain creature that demanded a yearly sacrifice of us, and it happened that this year, the sacrifice was to be me. So I had...gone, and said my goodbyes, and I suppose you can imagine what the thought of it did to my parents — my father especially.
After I was saved, word reached them that I had been spared, and the shock of it all, so much in so short a time...I think it was just too much for him.
They tried everything. It was horrible to watch them running in and out, bringing this herb and that ointment and this spell and that remedy. And all the while it was like we were all holding our breath, hoping that this one would be different than the others, but none of them changed a thing.
I feel...I'm sure it sounds nonsensical, doesn't it, but I do feel responsible. I didn't want or intend it, but...it was because of what happened to me, that it happened to him. It's hard to be the cause of something without feeling in some way at fault for it.
Even if it was not your fault, what you feel is understandable. It's not unusual. When my mother died, I felt it was my fault, even if I had nothing to do with it.
No, he's all right now. A kindly fairy sent word to me of a magical fruit with the power to cure all ills, and offered to send me to the land where it was growing, to retrieve it for him. She didn't tell me I'd have to go beyond a waterfall, through a troll's cave beneath the mountains, across a chasm, through a swamp, and past a waiting cobra to get it, but once I was there, there was no helping it.
...That's why I can't sleep. It's too dark, and I keep thinking I hear the growling.
Rosella. This may be forward, and I would not be offended if you declined. Still, I would like to offer: would you feel safer staying with someone else right now?
That wasn't even the half of it. She spirited me away on a moment's notice, yes, but it wasn't until after I'd already gone that she told me she couldn't send me home again, unless I did something for her as well.
...Would you think very poorly of me if I said I would? I know it's only the dark and devices.
So now that you have the chance, you're kept up by unfamiliar devices reminding you of troubling events.
Of course. I am on my way.
[And of course, true to his word, Alucard arrives with gentle knocking to her door. His state of dress is no different, only in that he lacks his sword and shield and seems to be better kept now. Slightly less disaster than before.]
[Thank goodness she'd had the foresight to pick up a robe to cover up with, when she'd been perusing the Noctian shops in search of pieces to pad out her current wardrobe a little. It's not long enough to cover her chemise entirely, but it'll do well enough to suffice — and it's better than getting all the way dressed again, just to greet her midnight guest at the door.
But even as tidied up and put-together as she can make herself on the relatively short notice, it's still fairly obvious that Rosella's been having a bad night, when she tugs the door open. She's got her hair braided simply back and tied off with a ribbon, but it's gone lopsided and rumpled from a fair amount of tossing and turning, and the beginnings of circles are threatening under her eyes.]
Good evening. ...Or is it morning, by now? Well, one or the other — do come in, Alucard.
[She says, as she tugs open the door and permits him entrance to her little apartment, where the kitchen light is on and the refrigerator is indeed humming and clunking as such things do, and at least one other lamp is lit all across the front room into the bedroom area, such that there's a definite path from one end of the apartment to the other, without Rosella having to set foot in shadow the whole way across.]
[She does look exhausted, but rightfully so for all that she's been through. A handful of days without much in the way of rest; any human would be exhausted. But she'd done it all for her loved ones. It's admirable how much she could accomplish.
He smiles crookedly at her.]
I suppose technically it's morning, but let's pretend it's still the night.
[Alucard slips inside easily.]
I had a thought. Which... you might find silly, but I wanted to offer. What if I were to tell you a story to help your mind become at ease? I would stay the night and ensure you are safe, of course.
[She shuts the door behind her, fingers still a little clumsy on the deadbolt latches as she accustoms herself to how they work. Alucard looks like he's been doing well, since they parted ways. Maybe that makes one of them.]
A story...?
[It's such a simple thing, to hit her so profoundly. He's just being kind, as she's come to understand him to be once one gets past his outwardly gruff and grumpy demeanor. And yet — and yet it's not just that he's offering kindness, is it, but the manner in which he's extending it. He'll tell her a story to set her mind at ease, which means he's guessed that such a thing even would help to settle her in the first place.
And the only way he could know that, suspect that, is if he'd bothered to care in the first place.
He's asked nothing of her. He's shown no motives or designs on her. He's certainly under no obligation to her. And yet — here he is, leaving the comforts of his own home and business in the dead of night just to come and stay and tell her a story because he thinks it might help her sleep.
It doesn't leave her weeping, right there at the door in the dim entry light, but it's an awfully close thing.]
It's not silly. And you're doing a terrible job at convincing me you're awful, I'll have you know.
[She rubs at her eyes, trying to pretend like she's just brushing sleep from them.]
Please, make yourself at home. Take either of the chairs or the larger sofa, and don't try on the little crown on the table near the window.
Oh, please. I'll have time yet to convince you of that. For now, let's worry about you getting some rest tonight, yes?
[...Little crown. All right. Now he's curious, but he can afford to ask another day. For now, he goes to offer his arm out to Rosella, as a gentleman would.
In the future, there is not much doubt in his mind that she may decide to change her mind. Maybe because of his deeds, which he does regret, leaving bodies hanging out into the sun for birds to peck away at and rot their warnings to possible visitors. Or perhaps because purely of his nature, his heritage.
This time, he could not begrudge someone for it. At least he will be expecting it. That still does not make her terrible, he decides. Just afraid.]
I'll make myself comfortable after I know you're close to sleep. To bed, or I shall nag you more.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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It's a bit difficult to be when someone has been kind to me in return, truthfully.
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...Though, if you'll pardon me being a bit forward, there is something I've been meaning to ask you. It's nothing awful, I promise.
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Well, it does look very fine on you. You might do well to trim the ends a bit, though. You've gone a little uneven at the bottom.
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But never mind that. I didn't mean to make things glum all over again. You can ask me something strange and invasive if you like, to make things even.
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It's fine. It's a bit difficult to avoid, I imagine. I suppose I might ask, what happened to your father?
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I'm not sure if there's a simple way to explain it, but. There was a certain creature that demanded a yearly sacrifice of us, and it happened that this year, the sacrifice was to be me. So I had...gone, and said my goodbyes, and I suppose you can imagine what the thought of it did to my parents — my father especially.
After I was saved, word reached them that I had been spared, and the shock of it all, so much in so short a time...I think it was just too much for him.
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You feel at fault?
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I feel...I'm sure it sounds nonsensical, doesn't it, but I do feel responsible. I didn't want or intend it, but...it was because of what happened to me, that it happened to him. It's hard to be the cause of something without feeling in some way at fault for it.
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Is he still unwell?
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...That's why I can't sleep. It's too dark, and I keep thinking I hear the growling.
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Rosella. This may be forward, and I would not be offended if you declined. Still, I would like to offer: would you feel safer staying with someone else right now?
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...Would you think very poorly of me if I said I would? I know it's only the dark and devices.
I'm trying so hard not to let it bother me...
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I would not, Rosella. I can be on my way now if you wish.
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You're sure you won't be too put out? You must at least let me make it up to you somehow.
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Not in the least. I'll be by soon. If you wish to make it up to me, then I will not stop you.
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I do wish to. Knock, then, when you get here; I'll be up and waiting.
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Of course. I am on my way.
[And of course, true to his word, Alucard arrives with gentle knocking to her door. His state of dress is no different, only in that he lacks his sword and shield and seems to be better kept now. Slightly less disaster than before.]
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But even as tidied up and put-together as she can make herself on the relatively short notice, it's still fairly obvious that Rosella's been having a bad night, when she tugs the door open. She's got her hair braided simply back and tied off with a ribbon, but it's gone lopsided and rumpled from a fair amount of tossing and turning, and the beginnings of circles are threatening under her eyes.]
Good evening. ...Or is it morning, by now? Well, one or the other — do come in, Alucard.
[She says, as she tugs open the door and permits him entrance to her little apartment, where the kitchen light is on and the refrigerator is indeed humming and clunking as such things do, and at least one other lamp is lit all across the front room into the bedroom area, such that there's a definite path from one end of the apartment to the other, without Rosella having to set foot in shadow the whole way across.]
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He smiles crookedly at her.]
I suppose technically it's morning, but let's pretend it's still the night.
[Alucard slips inside easily.]
I had a thought. Which... you might find silly, but I wanted to offer. What if I were to tell you a story to help your mind become at ease? I would stay the night and ensure you are safe, of course.
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A story...?
[It's such a simple thing, to hit her so profoundly. He's just being kind, as she's come to understand him to be once one gets past his outwardly gruff and grumpy demeanor. And yet — and yet it's not just that he's offering kindness, is it, but the manner in which he's extending it. He'll tell her a story to set her mind at ease, which means he's guessed that such a thing even would help to settle her in the first place.
And the only way he could know that, suspect that, is if he'd bothered to care in the first place.
He's asked nothing of her. He's shown no motives or designs on her. He's certainly under no obligation to her. And yet — here he is, leaving the comforts of his own home and business in the dead of night just to come and stay and tell her a story because he thinks it might help her sleep.
It doesn't leave her weeping, right there at the door in the dim entry light, but it's an awfully close thing.]
It's not silly. And you're doing a terrible job at convincing me you're awful, I'll have you know.
[She rubs at her eyes, trying to pretend like she's just brushing sleep from them.]
Please, make yourself at home. Take either of the chairs or the larger sofa, and don't try on the little crown on the table near the window.
screams in "gmail did not give me this notif"
[...Little crown. All right. Now he's curious, but he can afford to ask another day. For now, he goes to offer his arm out to Rosella, as a gentleman would.
In the future, there is not much doubt in his mind that she may decide to change her mind. Maybe because of his deeds, which he does regret, leaving bodies hanging out into the sun for birds to peck away at and rot their warnings to possible visitors. Or perhaps because purely of his nature, his heritage.
This time, he could not begrudge someone for it. At least he will be expecting it. That still does not make her terrible, he decides. Just afraid.]
I'll make myself comfortable after I know you're close to sleep. To bed, or I shall nag you more.
gmail why you gotta do me like this i have THINGS to DO
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