"Mostly, the desert holds a lot of sand and some caves."
Alucard's tone is as dry as desert air, aware that it is a terrible joke and that he probably should try and save himself at least a little from that totally ridiculous and disappointing response. So he does, the follow up a little softer and a little more sincere. "You'll be awake at dusk and dawn. That is when it is most alive - bats flying out of their caves for the night, desert rabbits going about their business, and even larger monsters getting into their hunts. And of course they bed with sunrise, and you can see all manner of life skittering back for rest. Nothing like sun up and sun down in the confines of this place."
He's fond of it all, at least. Alucard's found the wildlife here wholly different from Wallachia, and no less wonderful and fascinating for it. The boldness has not extended to trying to take flight with some of the bats (being a whole series of bats is difficult), but the temptation is there. Just as the temptation to approach some of the desert coyotes has existed.
Home though. That's a sobering question. Alucard's privacy is something he guards and does so fiercely, letting precious few details about his personal life out. Here, in Cadens, he is defined by work. For restoring a graveyard, for working on a historic building. It is the only reputation he has, and it was alarmingly easy to shrug all thoughts of home off. He doesn't like to think of the castle and the Hold, potentially unguarded and pillaged. Of the charred remains of his mother's clinic, burnt over two years ago now by greedy and stupid men.
"Mountainous," is the word he settles on. "Easy to lose oneself in a remote corner of, even if there were cities and villages and farmlands." It is a wholly unsatisfying answer. "Your own?"
no subject
Alucard's tone is as dry as desert air, aware that it is a terrible joke and that he probably should try and save himself at least a little from that totally ridiculous and disappointing response. So he does, the follow up a little softer and a little more sincere. "You'll be awake at dusk and dawn. That is when it is most alive - bats flying out of their caves for the night, desert rabbits going about their business, and even larger monsters getting into their hunts. And of course they bed with sunrise, and you can see all manner of life skittering back for rest. Nothing like sun up and sun down in the confines of this place."
He's fond of it all, at least. Alucard's found the wildlife here wholly different from Wallachia, and no less wonderful and fascinating for it. The boldness has not extended to trying to take flight with some of the bats (being a whole series of bats is difficult), but the temptation is there. Just as the temptation to approach some of the desert coyotes has existed.
Home though. That's a sobering question. Alucard's privacy is something he guards and does so fiercely, letting precious few details about his personal life out. Here, in Cadens, he is defined by work. For restoring a graveyard, for working on a historic building. It is the only reputation he has, and it was alarmingly easy to shrug all thoughts of home off. He doesn't like to think of the castle and the Hold, potentially unguarded and pillaged. Of the charred remains of his mother's clinic, burnt over two years ago now by greedy and stupid men.
"Mountainous," is the word he settles on. "Easy to lose oneself in a remote corner of, even if there were cities and villages and farmlands." It is a wholly unsatisfying answer. "Your own?"