[Alucard knows the bloodwine vendors in Nocwich well by now. He’s comfortable in the shops, he knows who carries what, and frankly, he appreciates the monthly ritual of going to stock up. There are familiar faces, and they regard him with a polite interest without becoming overly friendly.
The aisles are narrow though, and that means having to manuever around others every so often. He tries to be polite about it though, making sure his approaching footsteps are loud, as is his polite:]
[Alucard’s Domain stands again, all November moodiness and gentle fog rolling along the ground. For those unfamiliar with the place as it was, the changes made might not be noticed.
For those more familiar with the place, walking along the winding paths that never seem to quite reach the source of smoke in the distance yields new surprises. There are benches now, made of felled trees with seating carved out. A few have tables available, although the question of drinks or food is not addressed. One small nook near a stream has a lower lying stump meant to act as a footrest.
There are more bird calls now, occasionally breaking the silence. A murmuration of starlings passes over head every so often. The place is not as alive as a real forest might be, but for all the surrounding walls of thorns and moodiness, the note struck is just a little bit different.
So it goes for anyone capable of following the true path that leads to the small hut Alucard has in the center of the Domain. There are two dedicated rocking chairs outside of it now, meant for guests. There’s a pot of warm chicken broth on the table between the two chairs, and often a dhampir seated there, watching the world quietly.]
This would, admittedly, go faster if Jaskier was here.
[It is a silly thing, planting spring bulbs along one of the side paths of the graveyard when one’s friend practically overruns with plant magic. But there is something that feels right about getting on one’s hands and knees to do some gardening work and doing it for the dead. Alucard’s noticed that western side of the graveyard gets fewer visitors. It feels right to make it look nicer, if only for the dead there.
He exhales, reaching for a pot full of bulbs that will blossom in the spring and under the unique conditions that Jaskier has created. For a graveyard in a desert climate, the burial grounds are lush and green, only just starting to fade with the oncoming autumn.
After a time, he rises to his feet, work done for the day. Walks the paths, aware that the dark grows nearer and there is no natural lighting in the graveyard itself. Anyone still straggling is given a clearing of his throat before being asked:] Do you need directions before they close the gates?
In front of Old Public Hall
[Cooler evenings bring out more people.
Alucard knows this to be true, because he is not the only person that sits along the entrance of the Hall when the light begins to fade, watching people gather. Some are attending whatever is being held in the Hall itself, others are heading home or to dinner or to just go drink. Small children always tug adults over towards the statue that Viktor and Jayce put up, and there is always some wonder in their eyes.
There’s a familiar rhythm to it all, and as Alucard leans back a little in his seat, the smile on his face stays.
Lingering feels a little obnoxious after a while, but he stays until dark truly settles in. Then he stands, sometimes walking off immediately and others noticing a familiar face, which is an excuse to stay.]
I can't do anything else with the sconces until you have an electrician come and do the wiring for them, but the location of each has been marked.
[It isn't the most exciting announcement Alucard has ever made upon entering a room. In fact, it is the most routine thing he's ever uttered to Jaskier, and that feels quite nice.
With the new house, Alucard offered to assist with some interior decoration but go overboard with it. That meant a few opinions about additional light fixtures, ending with wall sconces that could play host to floral wreaths throughout every season.
He's pretty sure that those wreaths are done at any rate, and so he simply takes a seat on the sofa.]
Did you need me to do anything else while I'm here?
[ For Astarion, the bloodwine and the hot springs are the only reasons worth stepping into Nocwich's eternal darkness. He has little love for his own kind, even less for werewolves, and no trust for the tame appearances on display.
Still, he can't completely fight the draw of this particular shop. And here, at least, he doesn't need to keep his hood up as he does in the streets of Cadens. The bite marks on his neck are covered by the high collar of his shirt, but his pointed ears are on display. He refuses to skulk here. ]
Of course. [ he replies to the stranger with a sharp grin, and it looks as though he means to move aside, then doesn't - ] Although, perhaps - could I bother you for recommendations?
[Alucard nods in polite enough agreement, not blinking at the pointed ears on the man requesting someone who in a moment of quiet self examination, probably looks a little too knowledgeable about the wine situation. Carrying a basket with six bottles is what Alucard might call borderline Belmont behavior but on the other, Nocwich is only open three days out of the month.]
Well, a recommendation always relies on preference, which means at least one or two questions I have to volley back to you. The first is do you find yourself enjoying stronger mineral or tanin-based content or do you prefer the sweeter side of things? The second is are their fruits you absolutely hate and would never drink the juice of?
[His tone is polite. There's no attempt to hide his own fangs as he speaks, and frankly, Alucard looks entirely at ease with himself in this discussion.]
[ The amount of bottles certainly leads Astarion to believe the man can't be a native of Ikorr. Knowing that there are more vampires lurking about the factions, potentially Cadens, makes him even more ill at ease. But his smile remains perfectly in place, with only a slight tension in his gaze to belie his misgivings (Optional, Insight Check DC 18). ]
I can honestly say that I've had enough bitterness for two lifetimes, so why not something sweet? [ His gaze flicks to Alucard's lips in a way that might be mistaken for seductive as he clocks the fangs. ]
Well, nothing specific I dislike, no - but... [ and he waves a hand now, his gaze scanning the bottles. ] The less additives, the better. Personally.
[ Anything mixed in that isn't blood normally might as well be ash and vinegar to his tongue. This wine, however... with his senses temporarily dulled it'd been hard to tell the source of the blood. It tasted suspiciously - and deliciously, human. Close enough that it went straight to his head. ]
Hm. [Alucard, for probably what counts as better, misses anything untowards in the glance at his fangs. He'd find it strange if he did, but then, Alucard's comfortable enough in his own heritage to not think twice about it.]
That's a difficult balance to strike. Usually the sweeter wines have more additives in them, meaning if your diet errs towards the bloodier side of the equation, there will be sharper tastes involved. Hm.
[The dhampir's eyes linger on the shelves. He then walks away entirely from the aisle and goes down another, considering the options, then moving to a third. When he returns, there is a bottle in each hand, and both are held out to be evaluated.]
The black currant is as best as you'll be able to get with a note of sweetness and a primarily blood based profile. The fall mix is really more of a spice based wine with some faint notes of apple.
[What Alucard has not done is ask about price point. He's not going to. That's just polite.]
[ There's a flicker of surprise at how genuinely serious this vampire appears to take his request. He doesn't follow after him when he leaves Astarion behind in the current aisle to do some searching, though he does walk far enough to stand at the end rather than taking up space between them.
It also gives him a moment to decide to how tackle this seemingly earnest response... ]
I take it your own tastes don't have similar limitations?
[ That is curious to him. Especially if he isn't from Ikorr.
With both bottles offered, he takes the black currant and eyes it. ]
[The answer is pleasant. Alucard is, after all, simply stating a fact about himself rather than revealing some deep dark secret. He doesn't need blood. He cooks better than most. Blood for him is simply another ingredient, one to use for specific dishes and purposes.
There's a price marked on the bottle - reasonable enough for anyone who's been in the world for a few months, but not fantastic for those wholly new. It is the question that forces Alucard to finally consider the obvious.]
He can hardly remember what it was like to choose anything between rats or insects. Only more recently has he had more options. Even still - it must always be blood for him.
Unless he can figure out a way back to Baldur's Gate, steal the Ascension from Cazador, and be rid of his little worm problem...
At the question he sighs a little loudly. ]
Quite new. And a little short on coin at the moment. Something I mean to rectify - [ with some reluctance he offers the bottle back to him, dipping his chin slightly and watching him through half-lidded eyes ] but for now, ah well, perhaps next month.
[ Not that he's sure he wants to be here in a month... ]
Humans use blood as an ingredient as well, such as in sausage and puddings [There is a gentle shrug, the whole of it normalized from where he sits. The only thing he can say is that it isn't an indulgence.] I've found it curious that the vampires of Ikorr can manage on this alone myself, but they've never cared to elaborate on dietary requirements beyond sharing some of what they make to sustain themselves.
[There's a little nod of acknowledgement for the situation. Alucard's been in Abraxas for over two years and had the luxury of establishing himself, as well as familiarity with the particulars of Nocwich.]
I'm not short on coin. I'll buy, and you don't owe anything for it. [The offer is sincere, and Alucard has no problem holding Astarion's gaze to make the point clear.] And if the wine doesn't meet your dietary needs, then at least something has been learned.
[ Sausage and puddings, he almost has to laugh. The sound itself would have been flat, devoid of humor, as he begins to wonder if this man isn't just playing with him after all. ]
Oh! Vampires hoarding their secrets? What a surprise! [ His expression makes a mockery of shock, and there's a hint of venom in his tone that he really shouldn't let spill, but it's hard to contain completely.
Well, that is until he gets an offer of charity. He gives the vampire a dumbfounded look. There is something deeply wrong with everyone here. They must all be in a cult. Between that bard, meeting Haelva, and now this?
His expression twists, and rather than a carefully calculated reply, Alucard gets this: ]
Why? [ And then - ] What are you?
This is like, zero on on a one to trevor belmont scale
[Alucard can roll with that level of mockery. It is always worth poking fun at, so far as he is concerned. His voice is dry, but there's no hiding the amusement in his eyes.]
Some things transcend all spheres, it seems. The ones here, the ones from my world, what I've heard from others...
[The next look though? That is one Alucard does not like. He can sense he's said something incorrect on a personal level, and having been on the other side of the equation before (read: two years before, when first dragged into Abraxas and at the absolute lowest moment of his own life), he wants to tread carefully.
The why is easy. But it can't be flippant. In fact neither part can.]
Because when I first arrived here, the circumstances were worse. It was only Thorne doing the Summoning ritual, and half of us were imprisoned immediately. No one deserves that, especially when their needs differ from human norms. [Honesty is best, yet something in his gut suspects this will end badly.]
I am a dhampir. My father was a vampire, my mother was human.
[Jaskier huffs at the dhampir as he continues to use phrases like "electricity" and "electrician" as if Jaskier is supposed to still be able to come to terms with such a concept. While the shadow of Rience no longer stalks his waking moments -- either here or in the Horizon -- he still thinks he prefers fire.
At least now.]
I almost feel like if you're making this more complicated on purpose.
[He says, as if he hasn't already told Alucard he was excessively impressed by the look of the sconces. Gold, but tasteful. Alucard definitely chose them with Jaskier in mind, which he absolutely appreciates.]
Well, since you're here... I have a giant pot out back I would love to be on the roof, under the awning. I don't suppose floating and carrying something that heavy would be much trouble?
[It is a house of the future Jaskier. And the sconces look good.]
I'm really not. This is normal in the castle back home. And those sconces are much more elaborate.
[There's a little tone of smugness in his voice, although they both know the dhampir is just teasing/being a dick. He grins, nodding along with the next work order.]
Not at all. Show me where you want it, so I'm putting it in the precise spot.
[Unike the office, which was a collaborative effort, this is Jaskier's house. He calls the shots, and that means no dhampir opinions given unless requested.
Or he's really, really opinionated about some detail.]
[ Astarion brushes off the first part of his response, eyes remaining narrowed as he explains himself. His middle goes cold at the mention of imprisonment, even just the vague threat of it from however long in the past of this 'ritual'. Sometimes, he swears he feels the phantom beat of a heart that no longer functions, hammering against his rib cage.
It takes him too long to wrench himself back to the present and realize that Alucard may be referring to himself. His imprisonment, at some point here. His expression, frozen for that lost moment, shifts to uncertainty, then - not guilt and not sympathy, but something akin to both and in between. Guilt is a feeling he tries to discard as quickly as it appears, and sympathy he barely has the energy for. Except, sometimes.
It's far easier to latch onto the last thing revealed. ]
A dhampir? [ Again, he seems taken aback. Clearly not what he was expecting. He continues to frown, though less as a form of aggression and more thoughtfully. ] Well, that's certainly new. I almost feel like you deserve my condolences.
[ Almost. If he's anything like the dhampirs of Faerun, Astarion imagines it's a lonely existence to straddle two worlds - but the powers should more than make up for that. ]
I've had time to find balance on the matter. Thank you all the same.
[Earlier here, Alucard might have bristled because the phrasing implied far too much incorrect information about the nature of his parent's relationship which was nothing but loving. But Astarion is not incorrect that there is a loneliness to it, and that it really can't be understated.
Figuring that if they linger, he'll get push back about the wine, Alucard starts to head to the register.]
Astarion watches to see if he'll put down the recommended bottle as they walk toward the register. As much as he loathes to be pitied, if the man wants to waste his coin on him then he won't argue further. He's already half regretting that he refused Haelva's offer. ]
You mentioned Thorne earlier - I take it that's your current residence?
You mean the castle that teleports magically? That castle?
[He's making a point!! Even though it's moot because he does like the spot of... modernity. And less fire is probably safer. Mog has a habit of being very fascinated by anything that creates light, unfortunately, and nursing a burned paw on a particularly ornery gryphon is not his idea of a good time.]
Bless you. [He laughs.] I'm not that much of an arse about how things look. Am I? [He pauses.] No, don't answer that. Just grab it and I'll meet you up there!
[He's already off up the stairs, waiting for him. There's not a chance he can miss the very round, large pot full of soil, with little green sprouts poking out of it, reaching for the sun.
[He peeks over the edge of the roof, waiting for his floating friend.] Right in this corner, if you please. You know, I'm starting to think levitation may be the next magic I begin investing in.
I work as an architect. Most of my clients are in Libertas, my office is in Cadens. Politely put, Thorne can go fuck itself.
[There used to be far greater animosity towards Thorne in the past. A real, angry desire for revenge rather than this lingering dislike that really would be happy to put everything off to one side and never think on Thorne again.
The wine is paid for. It is bagged. And then Alucard hands the bottles back to Astarion.]
The castle that's also full of technology that's on par with where the Free Cities are at right now? Yes, that castle.
[Alucard follows after Jaskier, and frankly, not being in control is fine. Easier in this situation if he is being fully honest. It means less dumb arguments, but also it is a better way of learning to listen to clients as well. It means that Jaskier's question gets nothing more than a raised eyebrow. The bard can call himself out, really.
The pot is plenty obvious. It gets picked up with an easy gesture, and he follows Jskier around to the edge of the roof, floating as if he is simply walking on air. It is very normal.]
Hm. I don't know if I'd advise that since you don't have instant healing if you fall.
[But tada. The plant is where it ought to be.] Do you need me to rotate it at all?
[ His eyebrows raise in bewilderment at architect, as though somehow this is the most ridiculous thing he's heard all day.
Good for him at following his dreams, or whatever it is that gets him up in the morning. ]
What a coincidence. [ He takes the bottles without hesitation. They're past that point now. ] It seems I've lucked out on locale, then.
[ Not being in Thorne - by his answer it's fair for Alucard to assume he's in Cadens as well. At the start of the conversation he would've been... let's say less than thrilled to find out he's sharing a city with another vampire. He still isn't entirely trusting of any of this, but at the very least it seems like he won't be competing for limited resources, or have to worry about catching blame for any misdeeds. The man comes off as positively tame compared to what he's used to. A dhampir architect, really.
(Cazador didn't show his true face until after he'd been bound to him, body and soul) ]
Astarion. [ He offers his name in return with a small bow, a dip of his head without taking his eyes off of him. ]
[Look, one cannot sit in a tomb and lurk all day. Even if it is fun and sometimes deeply satisfying during a depressive episode.]
My understanding is that Thorne's relatively short leash on the Summoned there means sunlight is easier to avoid in lodgings, but that's really about it. It's also what makes the Free Cities more difficult, especially if one is not inclined towards taking over an established burial space.
[There's a shrug at that. Alucard may be able to go into the sunlight, but he sometimes prefers the quiet among the dead, having been brought up fairly isolated all things considered. Cities are exhausting.
No bows from Alucard. Only an offered hand.
There's a few adaptive devices elsewhere here that may be worth your attention in the future. Specifically, the people of Ikorr have made shadow lanterns that cloaks one in darkness, if it works with your version of vampirism.
[ A small shrug, and he takes the hand offered - though there's a moment of noticeable hesitation first. His own hand is ungloved and his skin is cool. Astarion will keep contact for no longer than is absolutely necessary for the gesture. ]
I appreciate the suggestions. Fortunately, recent events have relieved me of that particular weakness. [ Among others. He tries to remind himself not to count on that lasting, though. His situation still holds many uncertainties, with most outcomes including a painful demise. There's a tension to his grin again. ]
Are there many others of our kind creeping in the city's shadows? Or - [ his expression hardens further now, the smile vanishing completely ] - those who won't suffer our existence in their streets?
[ Monster hunters, he means. Anyone to watch for? ]
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