abraxaslogs | [closed] that's rough buddy

[ Alucard is right in some respects. Geralt is asleep. He's also a light sleeper, even with his senses dulled, and the moment he feels a shift in the air and a whispered voice, his eyes crack open. Damn it.

For a few seconds, he debates interrupting. He both is and isn't used to close living quarters. He remembers nights squeezed together with other boys in their barracks -- back when there were still boys, still more living bodies than corpses on the keep's snowy grounds -- and many more nights alone on the Path with not a whisper to disturb him. Hell, he's not certain Alucard even wants to be interrupted. The air between them is tenuous. Geralt is slow to trust on the best days; he imagines Alucard feels the same towards a man who's openly acknowledged he hunts his kind.

Eventually, he sits up, a curse of his own under his breath. He's not unsympathetic. He gets it. But he also has enough damn trouble sleeping as it is. Coupled with his cellmates jerking him out of it when he does manage some shuteye, it's been unhelpful to say the least, and half-awake in the dead of night doesn't put him in the most patient of moods. ]

You need some sheep to count or what?

[Ah.

Busted.

Alucard's pretty sure he can't pretend not to hear Geralt, even if his hearing isn't what it should be. So instead he closes his eyes, breathing out before he responds. It is a good means of steadying himself, if nothing else.]

I'd settle for a walk.

[Which means waiting until either Hector decides to take him for walkies, or whenever they're given their hour of outside time.]

[ His gaze flicks once to the guards situated outside. One looks drowsy; the other seems bored. Neither look in the cells, so Geralt turns his attention back to Alucard. He lays back down, one arm tucked behind his head and his leg propped up on the thin blanket, rolled up underneath it. ]

Mm. Perhaps your friend will fetch you.

[ The word friend may as well carry air quotes. The man who's come down for the vampire, Geralt can tell they're familiar with each other, but not exactly close. He hasn't asked -- not his business, Alucard's personal relationships -- but now they're both awake. So here he is.

Besides, three weeks and counting locked in with another will invoke unnecessary questions even from Geralt. ]

That's a generous use of the word.

[Understatements again. Alucard knows the dark hides much of him, but he shakes his head anyway. Hector is complicated as anything can be with a necromancer loyal to your genocidal father and now repaying that loyalty by....whatever Hector's doing right now.

Not that Alucard has noticed that Geralt's associate is much better. He considers commenting on that, but chooses another tactic instead.]

Worth it for the showers, at least.

[ Highly generous, judging by the response now. He's still mulling it over, because it's a better distraction than the other thoughts threatening to fill his head (Jaskier is scared, Cirilla may or may not be alive anymore by now, and that's all information he can't do a damn thing about), when Alucard speaks up next.

Geralt raises an eyebrow. He snorts. To him, the comment seems to come out of nowhere. ]

A shower of what? A shower of blessings?

[ Running water has yet to hit the Continent. ]

--Baths, sorry.

[This cell has started smelling much better lately, and Alucard knows it isn't through his actions alone.]

[ Curiosity lingers in his gaze. If it were any other time, he'd have asked, but he's been witness to buildings that seem to pierce the sky and ships that hover. They're strange fucking images from strange worlds, and though he doesn't understand any of it, it's not relevant to where they are.

Putting things aside is what he's best at. (At some point, he'll ask Sam about...the ships.) He's more interested in how many of the guests can count as allies—whatever their motives may be beneath it all. ]

Do you trust him?

Not an inch.

[Alucard offers no elaboration. Hector's too complicated. He's acting out of some need to make up past sins to Dracula, and maybe out of empathy for the situation. What he wants though, that Alucard can't figure out.

All he knows is that he's being seen as a means to an end, and that? That he absolutely fucking hates.]

Do you trust yours?

[He's noticed the bard.]

[ Mm. That's a decisive answer.

Geralt, for his part, finds his easily, too. Jaskier is many things, but disloyal isn't one of them. Not when it comes to his...friends. And they are friends, after all this time, even if Geralt tends not to acknowledge it out loud. Though these days it's less due to his ambivalent feelings and more because he knows Jaskier will be insufferable about it if Geralt's ever caught calling him a friend, genuinely. ]

Yes. [ He realizes Alucard might gather that, for a man like him, affirming his trust in another says more about the relationship than it would for anyone else. Trust is not something he offers readily nor accepts so in return. ] We travelled, previously. For a time.

[ More understatements. ]

[Traveling.

Alucard doesn't know why that of all things pings him as hard as it does. The other two are still moving, he supposes. If they ever come back, what will they find? An abandoned castle with corpses on the lawn and no indication of what happened to him. There was no struggle, after all, nothing to indicate he has been taken against his will.

The thought causes a slight flinch across the dhampir's mostly shrouded in the dark expression.]

I see. [He shakes his head after a moment.] You don't need to sit up with me.

[ Geralt finds him scrutinizing Alucard's expression. In truth, some things (most things), he doesn't need to know. It complicates matters the more he knows about a person. But it feels like they've crossed a line already. The crystal dust saw to that.

Though not enough of a line that Geralt will admit to any concern. He turns his eyes back to the dull scratched underside of the bunk above. It sits empty now where the girl once was. ]

Your first mistake was assuming it's for you.

Mm. [He'll take that point. But rather than remain seated, Alucard does decide to stand, aware that if nothing else, he can still move fairly quietly. One of the few skills and parts of him that have been permitted to remain.]

Very well then.

[He doesn't stop the tiny trips back and forth, one side of the cell to the other. Counting paces isn't the same as sheep, but it could be a substitute.]

[ For a good while, Geralt simply ignores the vampire. He's skilled at it, ignoring people. Comes with the territory most are inclined to interact with him only to pick a fight.

But the cells are tight, he's been growing ever more restless, what with being trapped in this shithole, and eventually, he can't help but release a breath into the air. It is possible it says something about his state of mind that even Alucard has managed to start irritating him.

For fuck's sake. (Would it be a poor decision to ask to be confined to solitary? It probably would.) ]

How have you lived this long without learning to stay still?

[ It does not, in fact, occur to him Alucard is well under even a handful of decades old. ]

Edited 2021-06-27 18:31 (UTC)

[Walking helps. The energy from spilled over nightmares can get moved out into te world. It can't stay in Alucard, that much he knows. Even if he wears a rut into the floor itself.

He hears the breath. This is going to become a problem, but he can't quite be sorry. It shows in his response, said in a low voice but no less snappish.]

Forgive me for never having been confined in such a small space before.

[ Geralt is trying not to make it a problem. He's not one to start shit for the sake of it; if anything, that's what he explicitly avoids. Especially under the watchful eyes of guards and fellow prisoners and fuck knows who else.

And yet. It's worming under his skin. He's a patient man. He's waited days under the hot sun in a single spot to bait a target. But hunting is far different than being confined. It is especially different from being confined with another person, never mind three. (Two now.)

He counts to ten and very deliberately chooses to resist throwing his slipper at the vampire's head. ]

I can tell you as someone who has you'll do yourself no favors wearing out your sandals.

Edited 2021-06-28 01:09 (UTC)

Well I'm open to other suggestions.

[The tone hasn't changed, but Alucard's at least stopped moving. He turns, back against the bars of the cell. They're cool, and that helps slightly. Alucard's aware he could be nicer, but it has been a bad night and he is really, really tired of not having his own space.

Christ, he's looking foward to seeing Hector tomorrow.]

[ Fortunately, Geralt has little care for niceties. His problem lies squarely in the fact that he can't sleep like this and he's been in need of sleep for some time now.

He lifts a hand into the air before letting it fall. What do you want me to say? ]

Imagine a pleasant sunrise? Meditate?

[ Fuck if he knows how a vampire copes. It's possible Alucard has grown especially agitated from the lack of blood and so many edible things around him, but he's not about to ask. He considers Alucard an ally, at the very least, and he doesn't need to know about his feeding habits. Alucard hasn't tried to snack upon anyone. That's good enough for him.

If they ever get out of here, he might end up reshuffling his priorities. Until then, he's willing to overlook some things. ]

Meditation's a new word to my ears.

[But at least there's a slight shift in tone. A willingness to consider, if nothing else.

He's going to need to walk tomorrow. As far as his feet can take him and as far as Hector is permitted to roam. But if there is a temporary solution, he will grab onto it.

Especially given Geralt's tone. The man is not one Alucard wants to be on the bad side of, both through occupation and personality.]

Youthful ears, then.

[ He senses the shift in tone. Is he going to do this? Be the first fucking Witcher to teach a vampire how to get some rest, all so that he can get his rest?

Apparently. (How did he even get here? Oh, that's right. Mages.)

He sits up. His eyebrow is cocked, to confirm if Alucard is actually serious. Because yeah. He's willing, despite the absurdity of the concept. He's not gone this long being what he is without knowing when and where to pick his battles.

Besides. He's aware his irritation is largely the doing of this place. For now, he's keeping it from boiling over. ]

--How old do you think I am?

[Alucard has a bad feeling that the man is thinking of him in centuries. Clarification would be a good idea.

Either way, Alucard gestures with one open arm. He's listening. Willing to do anything that makes this cramped hole more tolerable, and ensures that everyone's irritation doesn't come to a head.]

[ It'd been a wry comment, but Alucard's question makes him eye the vampire. Admittedly, he's not given it much thought. A vampire is a vampire. Exactly how many decades or centuries they've walked is irrelevant, unless he's seeking to hunt it. Which he's not, currently.

But now that he's paused to consider, it strikes him he hasn't presumed Alucard much younger than a century or two. ]

Older than you look. [ He waves a hand, a vague gesture. ] You tell me.

I'm twenty.

[Just. Completely flat. Utterly serious.]

You're twenty?

[ Whatever number Geralt was anticipating, it was not the most obvious one. He'd thought, based on Alucard's hedging, that perhaps the vampire was somehow younger than he appeared—that maybe his kind, in his world, matured far more rapidly.

But apparently, Alucard is exactly as he looks. Which, in retrospect, says more about Geralt's world that he finds this startling.

He tilts his head. ] I'd ask how old you think I am in turn, but I imagine I'd only be setting myself up.

[ He's been accused of being old and cranky more than enough, whether they realize his age or not. ]

Edited 2021-06-29 02:00 (UTC)

Yes.

[Oh, he was assuming centuries then. It almost makes the dhampir laugh, but maybe this makes it easier. Sypha called him out on acting his age in the past, and in spite of other circumstances, the dhampir would admit that there are times she hasn't been wrong.]

I will politely decline to guess that way one of us will still have their dignity.

[it isn't alucard]

[ A snort follows that comment. Given everything they've very unwillingly shared, Alucard holds the unique position of...actually knowing him. It's a position few possess. He can appreciate the vampire's discretion.

At least the brief detour in conversation has served to ease the irritation had been building. However long that might last.

Which leads him back to where they'd left off. ]

Still interested?

I am.

[Alucard has accepted that circumstances are not in their favor. Anything that helps to pass the time, anything that helps to replicate sleep without being sleep is welcome.]

[ He slides a glance at the others around them before returning to the vampire. Fine. First he's teaching Kay how to not get lost in dark caves; now he's doing this. He'd ask how he got here, but he's not certain he wants to know the answer.

As long as he doesn't need to pass the lesson onto Majima. That one? Probably a lost cause.

He lays back down, propping his foot back up. ]

Close your eyes. Count your breaths. And if you have any strange fucking thoughts, let it happen.

[At least one answer is because you're annoyed and sleeping badly, Geralt.

But at least Alucard is good at taking direction. He walks back over to his bed and sits himself on the edge of it, hands resting in his lap. He closes his eyes, but isn't concentrating. Yet.]

Even if they veer off into the wildlands?

[He doesn't have to say more, Geralt's seen the worst of it.]

Mm-hmm. Just go back to counting.

[ He squints at Alucard from where he's on the bed, as if to see if the vampire is taking in the advice. Is it coming? Can he finally have some peace? He's frankly beginning to grow envious of the heavy sleepers down here.

Not that he hasn't had to sleep through his share of rowdy nights. Inn rooms above a village tavern are hardly silent on all days. But at least those tend to come with the option of him simply hopping out the window and taking off with Roach if he wishes.

(He really misses his horse.) ]

And to leave you alone if it all goes to shit. [The conclusion's clear.] Apologies for waking you.

[It seems the very least that the dhampir can offer. If this doesn't work, he'll have to just sit silently until the next opportunity to leave arrives, be it via Hector or the single hour they're allowed outside.

One.

Two.

Three and this is all stupid, isn't it? Sitting here counting like that's going to fix anything.

Four.

Five.

Sixseveneight, he can't be still anymore. This is madness, the counting only makes it worse. What is he a fairy story about vampires that count grains of sand until the sun rises in the east?

Okay, no. Try again.

One. This requires practice.]

[ Geralt only offers a vague noise in return. Alucard said it, not him, but yeah. That's the grand idea. Besides, the vampire will get the hang of it. Maybe. Or at least be still long enough for Geralt to catch some much needed shut eye.

Which he does, somehow. There's a reason Geralt's been especially frustrated about having his night interrupted: lately, it's been rare to close his eyes and find himself rested the next day. He wakes often with the acrid smell of smoke and fire in his nose, a ghost of old scars, a thousand reminders of what he left behind. Of who he left behind. Not by choice, he wants to say, and yet that isn't entirely true, is it? Not always, not at first. Perhaps that's what gnaws at him the most.

Possibly by sheer virtue of how fucking clear Geralt's made it he's not here to discuss a single word about himself, no one in his cell has really asked, whether they've noticed or not. Or brought it up explicitly. That's how he wants to keep it—but it's only a matter of time before someone's attention is finally caught by his restless sleep. ]

[By morning, Alucard's no better rested, but at least in trying to get the hang of meditation, he has had hours pass by with little notice. That has to count for something, although Alucard isn't sure what it counts for, precisely.

The thing that finally pulls him from his own thoughts is the approach of the guards, making it clear that it is some sort of time of day and you don't get to nap through your imprisonment. Alucard's seen this one down here a few times before, and those still resting tend to get his ire.

--Shit.

There's going to be guilt about waking Geralt later. But that's later, and the man already has a leg that's healing. The dhampir lets out a very, very unhappy noise about feeling compelled to do what is objectively the right thing in this situation, and stands to rouse Geralt before someone else does.

He shakes the good leg. If the dhampir gets kicked, well, he can react quickly enough to that.]

[ Unfortunate, that Geralt's instinct is not actually to kick. Instead, he bolts upright, snatching the hand that's grabbed him without thinking and jerking forward. His grip around the vampire's wrist is unrelenting -- though nowhere near as crushing as it would've been had he been at full strength.

There's a split second where his eyes are a little wild, and a little too bright -- but whether Alucard shoves him off or not, he almost immediately lets the vampire go. His gaze darts left towards the guards, uncertain if they'll interfere, before turning back. The first emotion that rises in him is annoyance (at himself, at Alucard for startling him awake), and then. ]

Fuck. [ He squints. ] Sorry.

[It is for the better that neither of them are as they should be. Alucard's reaction time would have been far faster. Probably would have gotten one or both of them thrown against the wall, a whirlwind contained in a tiny, tiny room.

The furious hiss that happens would have always been one of the results though. Alucard's free hand is defensive, quick to shove at Geralt's chest and if he scratches anything in the attempt, there will be no regrets on Alucard's side of the equation. This is what fair play looks like.

Geralt at least stops before things escalate. For a moment longer, Alucard allows his fangs to remain retracted (it isn't a power if it's a part of your bone structure!) before he straightens up. Eyes ahead, the guards banging on the bars of the cell next door.]

Are you, hunter?

[ My, what big teeth.

Geralt's eyes narrow further. He'd clearly been out of it when he struck. He's apologized. And he has a sharp scratch over his collarbone in retaliation. As far as he's concerned, the incident ends there. Alucard trying to provoke him further goes wholly unappreciated. If there's one thing he has no time for (and the list of things he has no time for is extremely long), it's people prodding him for the sake of a reaction. ]

I don't suggest you change my mind.

[ Where he might've offered to take a look at Alucard's hand, he now says nothing of it. If the vampire needs it wrapped, he can sort that out on his own. ]

[Alucard doesn't respond. The guards are staring into the cell, and so he casts his eyes downward.

'Looks like they took to beating the shit out of each other for us. That seems unfair,' says the one who takes special delight in waking up those who aren't already.

'Ah, well, we got a few deep sleepers here,' comes the response from the guard working with the first, eyes casting further down the corridor.

Alucard keeps himself quiet until they're out of view, then shakes out his left hand. It hurts but nothing's broken. That'll have to be enough for now.

There's not enough room to flop dramatically down onto his awful little bed, so he resumes his spot in the far corner, as away from everyone as he can manage.]

Go back to sleep then. They're good at heralding their approach.

[ His expression doesn't change, though he doesn't move, either. When Alucard moves away, Geralt only sighs. He's certain Majima wants nothing to do with either of them. Can't say he blames the man.

Really, it's not his intention to pick a fight with Alucard because that's not what he does. Pick fights, that is. He either has a target or he doesn't, and Alucard simply isn't one. Not here and now, at least. But he also knows Alucard is wary of him, if not outright mistrustful, and occasionally has the temperament of an eighteen year old despite his usual demeanor.

Going back to sleep's not happening. He sits on the bed instead, head tipped back against the wall. His flash of irritation earlier aside, he does...feel bad. Mostly because he knows exactly why Alucard went to wake him in the first place. ]

Nothing broke?

Contusions in a few places, bruising otherwise. It was my non-dominant hand.

[The response is short, but the there's more a touch of clinical to it than anything else. Alucard's mother was who she was, and the dhampir may not be a medical expert, but he knows a few things beyond the basics.]

Better that neither of us have our natural abilities at the moment.

[ A yes or no is all Geralt was anticipating, so the excess detail gets a raised eyebrow as he files it away. It'll heal is what he's hearing, so he puts it out of his mind.

He gives a quiet snort. ] If I truly meant to kill you, it'd not be from my sleep.

[ It bothers him, that he'd been so easily startled. It's not like he hasn't slept with company before, nor been woken abruptly -- Jaskier sure as hell isn't polite when it comes to getting the Witcher up in the middle of the night for whatever he's deemed an incoming threat -- but the sheer tension that comes from this place, the constant presence of the guards, his cellmates, it makes it hard for him to relax. ]

[Funny how that's a comfort.

Alucard lets his shoulders slack just a hair. A small part of him, the one not caught up in paranoia and stupidity knows that if an actual vampire hunter meant to have his head, it'd have happened already. There's more art to the hunt in those kinds of families. They'd not stoop to dirty tricks and promises of false friendship like what happened back in the castle, matters would be more so straight forward.

So he gives an inch.]

I had a close call with hunters prior to being here. Concerns for my safety have a tendency to run away with me at the moment. It's...[He breathes out. Nothing personal isn't the right word.] I'd think less of you professionally if you plucked such low hanging fruit.

[ In truth, Geralt's surprised to hear it. Not that Alucard had a close call, but that he deems it a reason for his wariness. He figures a vampire hardly needs a close call to find a monster hunter a threat. It piques his curiosity suddenly. ]

You weren't concerned about us before?

[ It's easier to say us; to Alucard, he knows, the difference between his hunters and a Witcher is negligible. They were all created to kill his kind.

He's not apologizing for what he is. Not really here to explain himself, either. But he won't begrudge Alucard his suspicions. ]

Not in the same way, no.

[Before, Geralt was just another person to generally be cautious about and with. Knowing the profession added a new scope of danger, because even if the his world's vampires are different from Alucard's, a hunter that specializes in monsters is still a hunter that specializes in monsters. He'd sooner fight Trevor again with the Belmont furious about what was done in his and Sypha's absence. Trevor he can predict.

So there. Vulnerability and honesty accomplished, for whatever it is worth.]

And at least you don't hide it.

[The implications running deep there, Alucard refusing to touch them.]

[ The implications are not difficult to pull apart. For awhile, he's quiet: not ignoring it, just considering what he wants to say. If not for the circumstances of their imprisonment, he knows they'd either have never crossed paths or would've known to circle each other. A contract on a vampire of Alucard's calibre is akin to a contract on a dragon: the risk is almost never worth the coin on offer. He'd have likely steered clear. Chosen a more practical hunt.

It's only here that he's gotten to know the vampire. He can acknowledge he doesn't dislike what's there. Alucard's flair for drama aside (and isn't Geralt long used to that), he seems largely interested in keeping to himself.

Besides. Geralt does owe him, somewhat, for the tunnels. ]

I'm not asking you to trust me. And I have no promises of reassurance I care to make. But I can tell you I have better concerns than a vampire whose largest act of menace has been chronic pacing.

Edited 2021-07-06 00:46 (UTC)

[Alucard's not sure what to make of the silence. Geralt's inclined to them, just as Alucard is, and for a long time the dhampir considered it a quiet curtesy in whatever this...situation is. Then it became too much to deal with and--

--fuck.

For the very first time, Alucard laughs. It is low and weak, seeming to forget what the noise even sounds like, but it is there. Chronic pacing indeed.]

Meditation hasn't exactly helped, but it has offered a temporary stop. [They all have bigger concerns, don't they?]

Let me know when you're expected to haul books for another. [Some concerns are shared.]

[ His eyebrow quirks: vague amusement, which is rare enough from him as it is. At the end of the day, as much as he'd prefer to be not here, his present company could be a hell of a lot more...concerning. If the worse thing they've done is irritate him, he can accept that. ]

You mean the bard? [ He hums. Jaskier's been doing his own research, which Geralt's left him to. Given Jaskier rarely invites scrutiny -- the type of attention he garners is not the sort that labels him a threat -- he's assumed more can be done without his presence.

But if there's something Alucard wants, he can ask. There are few here he's been willing to share details with. Desperate situations lead people to make alliances with their captors more often than not. He senses that's not the case from Alucard, though. ] What do you want to know?

I meant if you wanted reading recommendations.

[But if Geralt's not concerned on that front, Alucard is hardly going to push it. There is a shrug, small and a little bit more at east for the whole outburst, all things considered.]

But I suppose the only question that matters is if you trust him or not.

[ Oh. Mm. His head tilts. ] I do.

[ He's acknowledged that much to Alucard once, and it hasn't changed. He's more curious about Hector: the man who keeps coming by, day after day, and yet Alucard has explicitly expressed suspicions about despite going along with him nonetheless.

Whatever's between them, he knows better than to lean on a single man's word no matter how much he's...acquainted with Alucard. Worth keeping in mind, though. Not a lot of friends to make in a place like this. ]

You've a leg up.

[And Alucard has more to think on. There's no doubt in his mind that to break out of this place, one will need allies, and quite frankly, it's going to take more than Hector.

He doesn't like having to put faith in others these days. All the same, he offers the name of a book, and then:]

It has a red leather spine with silver lettering. I'll leave a reading list within it that's proven useful so far, for when either you or he have the next opportunity to go through the library.

[closed] that's rough buddy

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