abraxaslogs | [closed] | One evening in the spring

Entry tags:

[closed] | One evening in the spring

Who: Alucard and Gideon
When: End of the month following the summit
What: Cheesecake and bs'ing
Where: A small public speaking hall, Cadens
Warnings: None!

Made cheesecake from the goat cheese I got at the summit. Meet me here if you want any.

[There's directions that follow, and the lead to a small public speaking hall in a part of Cadens that is fairly central, all things considered. There are certainly more buildings here than the places Alucard usually lurks besides his little graveyard home.

The building looks just about as out of place. Whereas so much of Cadens is new, new, new, gleaming and bright or else not so clean but clearly recently built. This place isn't quite the same. There's too many elements of Thorne in the façade. Even the script that reads SPEAKING HALL is too old fashioned.

Inside is no different. The ceiling is vaulted, with a second floor gallery along with a first floor and a dais where a podium stands. There's stained glass that has clearly been replaced - colored windows with plain ones, designs difficult to make sense of now. Still, light comes in, and at the front besides the dais are stacks of books along with a few large sheets of paper. Alucard's standing looking down at one, arms over his chest as he reviews what's there.

When the door opens, he looks up and offers a bright:] Ah, hello.

[The sound travels. He might as well be next to the door with that level of clarity.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She takes an indelicate swig of her newly topped-up wine and offers him an uneven smirk.]

Defaced the sacred property of the Ninth House with crude and profane imagery.

[She says it in a nasty, stuffy, rasping voice, a perfect parody of Marshall Crux, though of course this is slightly wasted on someone who has never had the misfortune to meet that ossified monstrosity of a man.]

What can I say? I'm an artist.

[There may have been a few diagrams of a wraith-like figure being decapitated, stabbed through the heart by a sword and the like, with the words 'this is you' scrawled above them, specifically for Harrow to find (along with the drawings of boobs). But she isn't giving away the details.

She takes a longer, slower sip of wine and watches him over the rim of her glass as he begins to discuss his betrayers-- and whilst this may be kiiiinda a sensitive subject for him, she can't help the way her eyes widen in evident glee as his description unfolds.]

Fucking hot.

[Don't worry, she's got you covered-- she'll say the quiet part out loud.]

Man, I would kill to see that.

[Alucard can guess that Gideon is attempting an impression, even if he is lost to the particulars of who the poor soul who earned such ire is. Either way? It's funny, and a soft laugh follows.]

Skilled in the art of truly annoying authority, perhaps. I can't say I've seen your work to properly judge the rest.

[He'd love to, but that's neither here nor there for now. She's not spilling details. Maybe they can move onto drunk doodling later. Alucard wouldn't put it past either of them.

The strange part of what is and isn't easy to talk about is the part with his father's death? Far easier. Simpler in a way. It was a thing that had to be done, nothing more or less. It is after the other two depart that all becomes a nightmare.

Fucking hot. Of course.]

I seem to have a habit of befriending redheaded powerhouses. [Since Sypha's a redhead too.]

But if you saw that, you'd probably be dead. [There's a statement of confidence if he's ever made one.] But my point is that when you have alchemy like that, you don't question it. Just accept it for what it is and for however long it lasts.

[Skilled in the art of truly annoying authorities is an apt way to put it, she's gotta admit, so she snorts in amusement before knocking back more of her wine. The taste may be bright and crisp and good, but the more of it that she consumes, the less she finds it matters. A soft heat unspools inside of her, and she feels languid and loose as the sinking sun sends its muted beams through the windows, limning them both in gold.]

What can I say? Redheads do it better.

[There's the quick hike of her eyebrow, and she sticks out her tongue.]

And hey, some deaths are worth it. But yeah, that kind of chemistry-- how often do you get to be part of something like that? Maybe we're both pretty damn lucky.

[It is a good place for drinking and sharing feelings. Alucard's felt that since the idea first smacked him upside the head, and...he noticed there were things going unsaid around the goats. Things that maybe needed to come out, and wine was always good for that.]

What, annoy authority and manage to look suspiciously attractive while wrecking everything in sight?

[He's not falling for your innuendo Gideon!]

Oh, you might be. I'd say fortune wouldn't consider me one of her favorites the past few years. [Which is absolutely a step towards some depressing discussion if Alucard lets it.] But at least here is better than home.

[Which...does bring something up. Alucard's eyes go to his wine glass as he huffs out a sigh.] I've realized I don't want to head back to Wallachia, even if the opportunity presented itself.

Al, you're a real prude, you know that? You're spoiling all my lines.

[Her laughter comes loose around the edges now, and she drains the rest of her glass before eyeing up a second quatre of cake. It's looking more and more tempting with every moment that passes, and she's busy weighing up the likelihood of wine + half a cake ending in a stomach ache and whether it would be worth it regardless when the conversation dips toward something darker. Something pensive.

He has a point, although like hell does she say it. No one from the outside would look at her flaming trash can of a short life and call it lucky-- but here they both are. When he comes out with his small revelation she nods, and her expression turns serious.]

Yeah? Me too. I mean, here's as good as anywhere isn't it? Sure there's a shit-ton of political intrigue going on, and every option is as shady as the last. But it's like that everywhere, right? At least here we've got good company.

Has it occurred to you that you may be overly horny, and thus need a counter balance?

[He won't deny she's wrong, and this is the first time Alucard's ever been able to make even the slightest bit light about everything that happened. It is a wonderful little step, and it really could only happen with Gideon. He's accepted that her presence does a lot of good in trusting people again.]

--Just take the cake.

[Because some thoughts are not subtle at all, and it is very good cake.]

As good as any, and we're just two people in a city of thousands. As subtle as neither of us are, it's easier to blend in the background. Ignore the political intrigue to a certain degree. Couldn't do that home. Or in Thorne, in so far as I can tell. [He'll nod slightly, the last part important.] There is also that. Everyone I've remotely gotten along with seems to have settled here.

[He did make this serious. Time to correct that.] Did Harrow ever see the goats?

[She still has time to slant him a grin despite the gathering depth of their conversation, and almost as soon as he says the words she's digging her fork into the second slice of cake. The taste of it comes sweet and rich as she shovels it into her mouth, and he really is right about the complementation of the wine-- she makes a contented sound before rolling one shoulder in a shrug.]

What can I say? When you're born this attractive you have to be ready to share your body with the world.

[She has more to say on the topic of their current circumstances, on the decision they've both arrived at. How she gets it, that there's enough going on here that she can become just another face in the crowd when it suits, that there's people here, and depth and life. Not just doddering old nuns who despised her anyway, and an overabundance of skeletons. It'd be better for him too, by the sounds of things. What's the use in going back to a place haunted by crappy memories--

--but if he wants to change the subject, she'll let him. For the moment. And so she looks from him to the bottle of wine before offering another shrug.]

I dunno, she didn't mention them. But she'd have been waaaay more excited to see them if they were long dead, so they were probably wasted on her anyway.

[Alucard waits for Gideon to take her next quarter before he takes a more moderate slice for himself. It isn't often he feels this much a glow about something he's made, but this is an exception. Hard to tell if it's the cake and the wine or the company though. Probably both.]

And why you have to have someone to keep your ego in check. Helped by the fact that they're no slouch in the appearance department, I suppose.

[It is hard to be a bisexual disaster without at least slightly acknowledging that you look pretty damn good.

The dhampir isn't going to push back if Gideon wants to circle back to circumstance as a topic. His goal was provide an out if it was needed, more than anything else.]

--It only occurs to me now that the concept of vampirism might offend her on a conceptual level. Dead but still walking around, all the flesh still attached to the skeleton and so on.

Dude, you could almost give Coronabeth Tridentarius a run for her money with all that golden hair.

[And Coronabeth Tridentarius truly was a sight to behold. The one true highlight of that whole fateful catastrophe at Canaan House. It's not a thought she lingers on - tempting as it is - because what he's saying is pretty fucking funny, and she laughs around her mouthful of cake.]

I bet she fucking hates it. Those beautiful bones, forever out of reach!! Seriously though, don't go telling her that you're dead. It's bad enough that you hang around a graveyard and wanna lie in a coffin. She's already got the hots for one corpse, my poor fragile heart couldn't take it if she blew me off for another one.

[And the circling back will come, but she figures there's always time for corpse jokes first.]

Only a run? I feel vaguely insulted. I'd hope I might come out on top.

[But no matter. They've hit upon something genuinely delightful.]

In my defense, I am only half dead on my father's side. All of his people though-- [Alucard snorts softly.] You'd face some stiff competition, I'm afraid. There's a tendency for my level to be the norm on his side. And there's always coffins.

I dunno, but I'd love to watch the two of you duke it out for the coveted title of 'hottest blonde in babeland'. If we ever get reeeeaaally lucky and she shows up here, I volunteer my services as referee.

[The sound she makes is one of exaggerated hurt, a tragic defeat.]

She can never know about this. Harrow wants the D, and the D in this instance stands for dead. Just knowing there's a whole like, race of hot dead people out there just waiting to be discovered is enough to make a girl give up and roll over, you know?

I'll agree to it, but only if you throw the match in my favor.

[Gideon, there's something for everyone with Castlevastle vampires. Don't you worry.]

Even if they've still got flesh and organs on their bones?

You know what? You're on.

[Maybe Alucard doesn't have Coronabeth's unnecromantically voluptuous cleavage, but she likes him better and he doesn't have a suspiciously co-dependant relationship with a creepy-ass twin sister. It's a no-brainer, really.

His question gives her pause though, and there's something in her expression that says she's seriously considering her answer.]

That's actually a good question. Usually I'd say not fucking likely, it's all about the bones for Harrow...but then, that refrigerated bimbo in the tomb has still got organs and stuff, so far as I know. Even if she is just a god-destroying popsicle. Maybe she's hoping that if the ice ever melts that all her skin will just slough off and leave a sparkly set of bones behind.

[Enjoy the mental image.]

Good. I'll just keep an eye out for the more feminine version of myself and let you know then?

[He has excellent tiddies, but that is fair. Better to not have any creepy twin stuff though, that'd be a bad time no matter how one went about it.]

I feel that the both of us are both just intoxicated enough to abuse that communication network thing and ask. [Do not do this, you two.] But weird how you more or less just described my initial situation except upped the stakes of it from patricide to killing the divine. [He can goddamn relate to this mental image.] My coffin was probably comfier.

[Oh no, why did he suggest it?? Because obviously--]

I dare you to do it. Message her on the weird mind thingy and ask her what her deal is. Like, why fall for the human equivilant of an ice cube tray when she's got other, hotter options available right in front of her eyes, you know?

[More wine. More wine is obviously what she needs right now, and this time she's reaching for the bottle herself to see if there's any left.]

Just don't mention the similarities between you and the corpse bride while you're at it unless you're in the market for a new girlfriend yourself.

You do it. I'm an absolute stranger and I am not ruining any chance of help I'll need for future cemetary work by asking something that personal and weirdly specific.

[Alucard also is pretty sure that by mentioning the hotter option, someone's intentions are obvious. So he hedges his bets with an elbow to Gideon's side. Gently.]

And why would I want to date the necromancer version of myself? As you said. Better options that are right there.

[Perhaps if the wine hadn't already gone to her head, softening her edges, she'd have had the wherewithal to remain more guarded. As things stand, she sighs dramatically. Rolls her eyes heavenward.]

You'd think. What's the point of being born so heartbreakingly attractive if I can't even get one scrawny necromancer to look at me disrespectfully.

[And never fear, idea of drunk-texting Harrow is still quietly percolating in her mind.]

[Look he won't not follow up drunk text. Because the group chat is a way better idea here, clearly.]

Now there's a question I can offer no answer to. [Just that he should shove more cheesecake in his mouth. Because while that doesn't help, it doesn't hurt either. Buys time to figure it out.] Is it likely she's just that oblivious?

[Group drunk-texting Harrow is the perfect way to see out the evening, clearly. She stares at her own half-eaten quatre of cheesecake as though trying to decide whether more cake is the answer, or whether she's lost her appetite.]

I dunno. I'm not even sure what she's into, you know? Aside from bones and frozen corpses. Hard as it is to believe, maybe I'm just not her type. Although I did spend years thinking she fucking hated my guts when she spent all that time considering me to be the only friend she had.

[To be fair, the 'treat em mean, keep em keen' approach kind of worked in this scenario.]

But what am I meant to do? Just come out with it and say yo, skullface. Wanna be my girlfriend? I can see the disgust in her sneer as we speak.

[Drunk text. Then more cheesecake to assuage feelings. Ideal order. In Alucard's case, the answer is to check the wine bottle, and consider the weight of it. Only about a third left.]

Well you have bones underneath, that should be a skelling point in your favor. [He considers the hate thing though. Not because that's familiar ~~it is, hi feelings for the Belmont~~ but because the inevitable conclusion is to just do the thing Gideon just said.]

That seems the most straight forward path to resolution? [There's a shrug.] Of course perhaps I am not the correct person to take relationship advice from. Does being blunt with her usually work?

[She makes 'gimmie' gestures for the wine, looking suspiciously as though she's considering downing the lot to steel her nerves before doing exactly the thing she just mentioned, but then she gets distracted by what Alucard said. Skelling point?? She snorts out a laugh and says--]

Hold up, hold up. Did you just make a pun? On second thoughts, fuck Harrow. Marry me immediately.

--I appear to have done just that.

[Not intended, but he grins, lil fangies sticking out and all, laughing. It is soft, but bright. Brighter than he's managed here in months.

Just for that, Gideon gets the whole bottle of wine thrust in her direction. There's a second bottle lurking somewhere.]

Fine, but only because you asked so nicely. And I don't want an engagement ring made out of bone, unlike some people.

[She laughs again and gratefully accepts the bottle as it's handed to her. Takes a long, deep drink before letting her eyes fall closed. Her thoughts feel blurry and slow, softened somehow. Her head gently spins. Obviously this means they ought to keep going and get well and truly plastered.]

Don't worry, I'll get you something sparkly but like, totally tasteful, you know? Like a skull surrounded by fire but the fire is rubies.

[Totally tasteful]

Clearly we're meant for each other. Gideon and Al, love disasters! But hey, seriously though. I'm glad to see you out of the graveyard and like, thinking about the future and stuff. By wanting to stay here, I mean. I'm gonna take that to mean you're doing better.

[He's gonna just awkwardly reach back behind the podium for the second bottle now, don't mind him. It's just an awkward and overly long limb flailing about. Flailing, flailing-- got it. And so he drags the bottle over like a wolf hauling over a carcass. As you do.]

You know the part I hate most is that I agree that it is tasteful, all circumstances considered.

[It's downright low key compared to like, 99% of the castle, for example.]

That's a pretty concise summary of it, yes. [There's a soft snort, although. Wait.] I've told you my actual name is Adrian, correct?

[He's genuinely not sure.] In fairness to myself, I'd like to point out that it is hard to do worse than what I was. [Rock bottom is rock bottom, after all.] It's...different? Having projects that keep my mind occupied seem to be required though. I actually panicked when I realized the work on the graveyard was done.

[She's pretty relieved to see the appearance of more wine, and takes this opportunity to accept that she's settling in for the evening. She drops into a soft-boned, cross-legged position on the floor, looking for all the world as though she has no intention of leaving any time soon.]

Well, obviously! I'm a woman of exquisite taste and high standards.

[She says, before taking another indelicate swig of wine.]

You might have done. I don't remember right now, but either way, Al sounds better than Ad. What kind of nickname is Ad? Or would you prefer something like, Your Umbral Highness or, or maybe, Adrian, Dead and Loving it.

[...he brought it up. He only has himself to blame...]

Whatever you prefer to be called, I'm sure we can come up with a whole list of projects to keep you busy. Trust me, I spent my whole life inventing shit to do to keep me from going insane. Between us we can work something out, indefinitely.

[closed] | One evening in the spring

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