[It is rapidly becoming clear that the Horizon is no safe space from whatever is happening. Jaskier’s presence was a harbinger of that, but the worst of it? The worst of it manifests in horrifying little bursts.
None of it is helped by the short waves of memories that roll off of him in the same space, extending outwards in all directions.
Some moments are muted. They are his mother, running after him as a child as a part of a game. Sitting with his father to design the crypt under Gresit, an awkward but enjoyed thing. The actual tomb in Gresit, both the final resting place and the long corridors and oversized machines that surround it, silent and stately. The sight of two corpses impaled in front of a castle whose architecture should not work, and yet it stands all the same, corridors moving out into parts that stand freely with no ground support. Alucard sits around a fire with two others, speaking of what will come to pass on their journey together. They appear other times, including inside of a library.
Others go on. Alucard stands across from his father in the wake of impossible grief, debating who should die for the murder of Lisa Tepes. There is no comfort there, only anger. Only the demand from Alucard that only one man pay for what happened, and Dracula's insistence that anyone might have stopped what came to pass. The declaration of I will not let you commit genocide and the blows that follow.
He assaults his own home with the intent to murder his father. The Belmont and the Speaker are essential. They fight as if they have always stood together - Alucard with his tricks, the Belmont his lifetime of training, Sypha with her magic and ability to slice a vampire in half with a sheet of ice. They are deadly. Effective. Filled with grim purpose. And so it goes, death after death, and then deeper into the castle.
The dungeons of Thorne are quiet. Dark. It is probably night. Alucard presses himself into a corner of the tiny cell, ignoring all of those around him. He's a mess, hair out of place, garments that of all others in the cell, and all he desires is to be as small as possible. Fear and anger mix in a horrid, heady cloud that hangs over him, and this silence too seems to go on forever.]
HORIZON, OTA, cw: violence and gore, especially in the links
None of it is helped by the short waves of memories that roll off of him in the same space, extending outwards in all directions.
Some moments are muted. They are his mother, running after him as a child as a part of a game. Sitting with his father to design the crypt under Gresit, an awkward but enjoyed thing. The actual tomb in Gresit, both the final resting place and the long corridors and oversized machines that surround it, silent and stately. The sight of two corpses impaled in front of a castle whose architecture should not work, and yet it stands all the same, corridors moving out into parts that stand freely with no ground support. Alucard sits around a fire with two others, speaking of what will come to pass on their journey together. They appear other times, including inside of a library.
Others go on. Alucard stands across from his father in the wake of impossible grief, debating who should die for the murder of Lisa Tepes. There is no comfort there, only anger. Only the demand from Alucard that only one man pay for what happened, and Dracula's insistence that anyone might have stopped what came to pass. The declaration of I will not let you commit genocide and the blows that follow.
He assaults his own home with the intent to murder his father. The Belmont and the Speaker are essential. They fight as if they have always stood together - Alucard with his tricks, the Belmont his lifetime of training, Sypha with her magic and ability to slice a vampire in half with a sheet of ice. They are deadly. Effective. Filled with grim purpose. And so it goes, death after death, and then deeper into the castle.
The dungeons of Thorne are quiet. Dark. It is probably night. Alucard presses himself into a corner of the tiny cell, ignoring all of those around him. He's a mess, hair out of place, garments that of all others in the cell, and all he desires is to be as small as possible. Fear and anger mix in a horrid, heady cloud that hangs over him, and this silence too seems to go on forever.]