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.
gmail why you gotta do me like this i have THINGS to DO
[It's a little wobbly, but she does manage a laugh, and pulls her hands away from her eyes in favor of linking her arm neatly through Alucard's. It's eerily calming, to accept his offer like this; it makes a warmth settle around her that seems to chase away some of the apprehensions the darkness holds, dulling the edges of the unfamiliar sounds and freeing her thoughts up for drowsiness to take their place.]
Oh, you'll nag me, will you.
[Probably she ought to put up a little more resistance to the thought of letting a man put her to bed, but she's tired and Mother's objections are far, far away right now.
So she leads him into the apartment's single bedroom, which is surprisingly tidy if only because she really hasn't had much time to clutter it up yet, though there's pretty obviously a smattering of odds and ends shoved rather unceremoniously under her bed, presumably for safekeeping.
And yet even as plain as it is, it's equally evident that Rosella has at least tried to make it seem more homey and comfortable. There are cerulean blue ribbons tying back the curtains, and a plastic cup filled with sweet-smelling wildflowers perched on the desk near a book with a bookmark sticking out of it. It's still the sort of barebones typical of someone who's just recently taken up residence in it, but there are touches of a girl living there, too.
Even the bed smells faintly of lavender. The Yankee Candles may not have worked out, but evidently the potpourri sachets had been a different story.]
What sort of story did you have in mind? The tale of one of your adventures?
[It's still more character than his own apartment has, where he's left his sword and shield; the only other additions were scribbled notes of his studies of various machines throughout the city he's been observing, as well as a few doodles of no consequence. Suffice it to say, he finds more character in her apartment than his own.
He smiles almost fondly at the signs, especially the various items just shoved under her bed. Somehow, that does not surprise him with what he knows of her.]
Perhaps. A tale of a woman from a small village seeking out a powerful beast to gain his knowledge, or the story of the Sleeping Soldier who was fated to fight his own father. Something like that.
[She gives him a gentle but unceremonious push, making him look in the opposite direction as she drops his arm and climbs back into bed, settling the covers neatly around herself with as much dignity as she can muster.]
Tell me the one about the lady and the beast, she sounds brave and lovely. What sort of knowledge was she after?
[So proper, but he certainly cannot blame her for it. So, he turns his head away, giving her time to sort herself out in bed for a moment before he's pulling up a chair to sit near the bed.]
Well, she was looking for knowledge on how to become a physician for her village. Not a magician with healing powers mind you, but she wanted to learn more about medicine. There was but one being who had the ability to teach her: a frightening beast that all had come to fear, the King of the Night.
But you're right, she was very brave. Through the wasteland, she walked, passing by skeletons on pikes leading up to a giant castle. The fine lady was undeterred as she struck the pommel of her knife to the beast's door. Though she was no warrior, she would not be swayed from her quest.
[There are themes, she's growing to notice, in the sorts of topics that Alucard tends to talk about, when he's nudged to share things of himself. Doctors. The night, and the creatures that live in it. Soldiers. Hunters. Scholars. They're roles that fit together in ways that she's sure some of her own tales would as well — dragons, trolls, kings and queens. Princes. Peril.
But her imagination has always been a robust one, and she's always had a habit of casting herself as the heroine in the stories she's read and played out. In her mind's eye, the castle he describes takes the shape of the one in the Impossible Mountains in Tamir, and the village woman's dress becomes as red as the one she'd been given herself, in the interim.]
Well, to her, things were not as simple as "good" or "evil". The villager would see someone full of hate, and think to herself: "Ah, this is a person who is afraid of something. When you're afraid, maybe you can't completely mend or fix it, but you can still improve and become better." This is much in the way she looked at her own people, who were superstitious and full of fear of the harm in the world.
To her, this supposedly terrible beast must not be so completely monstrous to have knowledge to help people heal. Surely, there should be something she could do in return for him.
When the door opened, she went inside and found herself in a dark and mysterious hallway, the King of the Night shifting away in the shadows and mocking her at first, taking her for another person come to slay him. Instead, she called him rude and lacking in manners, stunning him.
[She sinks down a little further into her pillows, pulling her covers up to her chin.]
He was surprised that someone told him the truth, I take it. Or perhaps just that she talked to him at all. I don't know that I would've had the courage to, if I'd been in her place.
[Ah, the irony of it, honestly. Rosella called Alucard out earlier, after all. Not that she knows his nature, but still.]
I think you underestimate yourself. In any case, maybe it was a bit of both; to have a person talk to him as if he were a man instead of monster, or to be so blunt with him. Who would be so brave to do so after all?
But conversation is what they had, and she discovered that the castle was not just his home, but it was also a way to travel if he so desired -- but he simply had not for years he could not name.
Unable to help herself, she immediately told him to travel. Not with the castle, but as men do with their own feet, to see the world had changed since he had last seen it. Again, the King of the Night was surprised by her, but also found himself charmed. After all, in two minutes she had demanded to be taught knowledge, told him how rude he was, and then suggested he walk as a commoner.
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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
Oh, you'll nag me, will you.
[Probably she ought to put up a little more resistance to the thought of letting a man put her to bed, but she's tired and Mother's objections are far, far away right now.
So she leads him into the apartment's single bedroom, which is surprisingly tidy if only because she really hasn't had much time to clutter it up yet, though there's pretty obviously a smattering of odds and ends shoved rather unceremoniously under her bed, presumably for safekeeping.
And yet even as plain as it is, it's equally evident that Rosella has at least tried to make it seem more homey and comfortable. There are cerulean blue ribbons tying back the curtains, and a plastic cup filled with sweet-smelling wildflowers perched on the desk near a book with a bookmark sticking out of it. It's still the sort of barebones typical of someone who's just recently taken up residence in it, but there are touches of a girl living there, too.
Even the bed smells faintly of lavender. The Yankee Candles may not have worked out, but evidently the potpourri sachets had been a different story.]
What sort of story did you have in mind? The tale of one of your adventures?
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He smiles almost fondly at the signs, especially the various items just shoved under her bed. Somehow, that does not surprise him with what he knows of her.]
Perhaps. A tale of a woman from a small village seeking out a powerful beast to gain his knowledge, or the story of the Sleeping Soldier who was fated to fight his own father. Something like that.
no subject
[She gives him a gentle but unceremonious push, making him look in the opposite direction as she drops his arm and climbs back into bed, settling the covers neatly around herself with as much dignity as she can muster.]
Tell me the one about the lady and the beast, she sounds brave and lovely. What sort of knowledge was she after?
no subject
Well, she was looking for knowledge on how to become a physician for her village. Not a magician with healing powers mind you, but she wanted to learn more about medicine. There was but one being who had the ability to teach her: a frightening beast that all had come to fear, the King of the Night.
But you're right, she was very brave. Through the wasteland, she walked, passing by skeletons on pikes leading up to a giant castle. The fine lady was undeterred as she struck the pommel of her knife to the beast's door. Though she was no warrior, she would not be swayed from her quest.
no subject
But her imagination has always been a robust one, and she's always had a habit of casting herself as the heroine in the stories she's read and played out. In her mind's eye, the castle he describes takes the shape of the one in the Impossible Mountains in Tamir, and the village woman's dress becomes as red as the one she'd been given herself, in the interim.]
Why did she think the beast would help her?
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To her, this supposedly terrible beast must not be so completely monstrous to have knowledge to help people heal. Surely, there should be something she could do in return for him.
When the door opened, she went inside and found herself in a dark and mysterious hallway, the King of the Night shifting away in the shadows and mocking her at first, taking her for another person come to slay him. Instead, she called him rude and lacking in manners, stunning him.
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[She sinks down a little further into her pillows, pulling her covers up to her chin.]
He was surprised that someone told him the truth, I take it. Or perhaps just that she talked to him at all. I don't know that I would've had the courage to, if I'd been in her place.
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I think you underestimate yourself. In any case, maybe it was a bit of both; to have a person talk to him as if he were a man instead of monster, or to be so blunt with him. Who would be so brave to do so after all?
But conversation is what they had, and she discovered that the castle was not just his home, but it was also a way to travel if he so desired -- but he simply had not for years he could not name.
Unable to help herself, she immediately told him to travel. Not with the castle, but as men do with their own feet, to see the world had changed since he had last seen it. Again, the King of the Night was surprised by her, but also found himself charmed. After all, in two minutes she had demanded to be taught knowledge, told him how rude he was, and then suggested he walk as a commoner.
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