[closed] | One evening in the spring

[cryptsleeper]

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.]

Comments

[cryptsleeper]

[The eyebrow raise that responds is that of a man who does not trust that statement, not in the least. There is going to be something in the near future. Alucard can feel it in his bones.

But they've veered into the feelings territory again, and this time Alucard's not really going to push them out of it. The freedom in admitting exactly how much the need to go feral and the frequency of it is incredibly freeing. There's a nod, and he focuses on trying to get the cork out of the wine.

So you know, using a single extended vampire fingernail, shoving it into the cork, and wiggling it about. Extremely good use of powers.]

It is precisely that. There's just the two feelings that follow that always contradict each other. One part of me just wants to give over to that feeling entirely and just...keep going. I felt like that the entire time in Thorne, and all I wanted to do was carve a bloodied path out of that dungeon because how dare anyone just throw people in a dungeon for simply existing in a space. Then there's the you were raised better than that voice and-- ugh.

[As if to underscore the point, the cork pops out. Alucard pauses, holding his hand with the impaled cork up because at least someone's going to appreciate this.]

[frontlinetitties]

I would highly recommend completely ignoring the you were raised better than that voice.

[She says it in a rusty, creaking rasp which is clearly intended to allude - again - to someone she has known, and the derision therein is real.]

I mean, if you were really raised better than that, maybe the compulsion wouldn't be there, you know? Maybe there'd be no need to be a naturally demeaning little shit if people were respectful just like, one time. Or in your specific case, maybe you wouldn't need to rip a red path through your enemies or even just random bystanders if you hadn't been brought up by some weirdo who wanted to destroy everything. That's how I see it. Whoever that shitty voice belongs to only has themselves to blame.

[She's felt it too, of course. The cut of guilt. The expectation of something better branded down into ones bones. But it can, nonetheless, fuck all the way off.]

Not that I'm advocating for random acts of mindless violence here. More like, those feelings come from somewhere and not all of them originate with you. You're allowed to feel shitty or angry or whatever sometimes.

[cryptsleeper]

[Whoever that voice belongs to? Alucard's just glad he has someone who gets it. Maybe not with the same emotional connections (because that is very much his mother's voice saying that and she's not wrong), but it's a reminder of why talking to Gideon is easier. She gets so much of it.]

That much is true, but there's just the threat of overkill, I think. Fear, maybe? I just know that it is entirely from my father and everything about himself that he built up over the centuries. He always had earned his reputation, and I was always aware of that in the abstract. [They've entered the daddy issues portion of wine and cheesecake club, it seems. There's a soft sigh, and fuck it. He's drinking right from the bottle at this point. After he tugs the cork off his finger nail.] I just didn't understand why he built things that way until now. Easier to get people leave you be when you have that kind of a reputation. Keeps you safe without having to lift a finger.

[There was a point in there. Probably. Whatever. He thinks he's found it]

The balance of it is just...hard. And who else am I going to share this with besides you, given the extreme of it?

[frontlinetitties]

[And she gets that, too. The fear that if she were to start she might never, ever stop. It's one of the reasons she'd never allowed herself to really go for Harrow back on the Ninth, when what had stood between them had felt entirely like hot, heavy hate. She was afraid if she started hitting, she'd carry on and on until there was nothing left but bloodied pulp and bones, and then both she and Harrow would have doubtless died down there in the dark. There are times when restraint feels like little more than a gossamer thread, too easily broken. And so she joins him in swigging from her own bottle, almost down to the dregs of it now.]

Welp! Lucky I'm here then, isn't it. If there's one thing I know about - and I'm happy to admit that there are not many of those - it's extremes.

[Even if living out an extreme had only been a half-grasped thing all her life, having no other experiences to guide her. Even if - even now - she only knows the half of it.]

But I dunno. I kinda think that if you've got that thought in you, if you're worried about going too far and becoming the worst version of yourself, that you probably won't? In my admittedly limited experience, the real psychos are the ones who just don't care. Who'll step all over anyone and anything if it means getting what they want.

[cryptsleeper]

[You know what? Alucard's never been more relieved in his life that someone just showed up in the dungeon cells offering additional food in his life. There's zero point in hiding the look of real, genuine relief on his face at Gideon's reaction. Or the sigh that follows, like every bit of stressed air in him is being excised at once.

For a moment, his eyes fall onto the bottle she has. Not enough for the rest of the night, that's clear. So he makes the grabby hand gesture. He's capable of a smooth pour of wine bottle into wine bottle]

I think you're right. Probably. [Hopefully?] But I understand the path to not caring a little bit more now. [It scares him, but it is as she says. He has the thought, still. It can be restrained.

The threat of silence hovers though, and Alucard can't say he likes it much. He shifts just a little in his comfy flopped out spot, eyes moving towards the ceiling.] Thank you.

[frontlinetitties]

[He makes the grabby hand gesture and she's more than happy to oblige, holding out her almost-consumed bottle of wine and watching as he pours. She's definitely drunk now, and her eyes have the glazed aqueous look that attests to it, but not so drunk as to fail to appreciate the depth of the conversation.]

Hey, you're welcome. Glad to be of use for something besides hitting things with a sword or carrying heavy shit for once. And I think I get the concern...it'd be easy in a way, to just stop giving a shit. But you obviously do give a shit, or we wouldn't be having this conversation.

[She holds her bottle aloft in a toast.]

So here's to giving a shit. And if there's anything I can do to help with your renovations, you know where I'm at. Even if that does just involve carrying heavy shit.

[And she drinks - long and deep - from her newly refilled bottle.]

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard takes his sweet time in looking from bottle top to bottle top and figuring out the right height to pour from. The angle of it. And okay, there is absolutely a little sploshing, but it isn't as bad as it could be and he manages to half the bottle appropriately. The room is swaying gently when he passes Gideon the bottle back. They probably won't get much further than this, and Alucard fully expects that they won't be leaving the building for a few hours.

Get pillows for next time this happens is the mental note he makes for himself.]

The heavy shit is only metaphor this time.

[Here's to indeed. Alucard leans over, the clink! echoing off the walls of the hall.]

Here's to giving a shit. And your future romantic endeavors.

[He's not going to chug the bottle, but he's pretty sure that it is worth hoping for success in Gideon's personal life. One of them should be the lesser disaster.]

I promise not to abuse your kind offer though. And we will figure out the cooking thing. You can't keep your muscles going on bar food.

[frontlinetitties]

[At the mention of romantic endeavours, she softly groans. Perhaps she's fucked. Totally doomed to always fall for the wrong kind of woman, such as ancient warriors who kill all her friends or vicious, pious Reverend Daughters who seem to contain all the sex-drive of the dried-up stick she resembles. This is not how she envisioned things going for her.]

Ugh, don't remind me. It's probably a lost cause. You'll have much better luck with teaching me to cook than wishing me well in the romance department, and I say that as someone who doesn't have the first fucking clue about preparing food.

[She sighs, then slumps back against the boards beneath her, propped up on just her elbows. Wine sloshes over the bottle's rim, and she makes a disappointed clicking noise with her tongue at the wasted droplets.]

Giving a shit, though. It's definitely worth hanging on to.