*This is not "Awakening" or any of the series that followed it. Integra is
alive and well, or not so well, depending on your point of view. Most of
this is from Alucard's view; I probably won't be switching a whole lot. *
A child was all that she was when she awakened me those many years ago. A scared little girl running from one demon and into the arms of another, she didn't know me, nor what I was capable of, and yet here we stand together as we have for such a long time. I remember that night, and the small Integra running into my chamber, scared by her uncle's need for revenge. Her blood released me and her uncle's men perished at my hand. Her fear did not recede. She shot the old man and in that instant the small girl before me grew ever so slightly larger and older, yet at his death she shrunk back to her young form and cried for the one that would help her, the one that wasn't me.
Walter, the angel of death himself, he came to her, dropping his bags at the sight of the dead men and her surrounded by them. He stopped three, maybe four steps in the room and turned away from her. The sigil, it was broken and she was the one that had opened the door. He had called my name, asked if I was there and of course I responded, blood on my hands behind the shivering child. There were no other words between us; he stood before me, shaking his head and ushering her out of my cell. The monster was awake, I heard him say it as he took her away, after everything that he and I had gone through, the war and the ghouls, I was still a monster. I can't blame him, there are times that I can be evil when I want to be.
Monster: somebody whose perceived inhumanity or vicious behavior terrifies and disgusts people. I suppose I'm under that category, but inhumanity, that's just redundant. I disgust my master, though these days the wrong word can do that. She's so tense, my presence doesn't help things along I guess. Does she not remember the things I have done for her, the things I've had to put up with from her? Likely not. I am a figment to her; something she wishes would go away, like a bad dream that will not end. It will, one day when she least expects it, I will be gone and she will be left to fend for herself, so to speak.
My master is not as helpless as I make her out to be, but granted, she is human. There are times that she surprises me, and her greatest time has just passed. I have offered her eternal life, and yet she refuses, remaining stoic in her beliefs that I am a monster and she will not sink as low as to join my kind. Again that word 'monster,' what is the human fascination with that word, as if everything that is old or strange is a monster? Humans are strange creatures, I have lived among them for years, hundreds of years, and yet I cannot begin to comprehend their actions. There are some things better left unexplored I fear, and the human mind is one of them. My mind is another, but that's another story.
A child was all that she was when she awakened me those many years ago. A scared little girl running from one demon and into the arms of another, she didn't know me, nor what I was capable of, and yet here we stand together as we have for such a long time. I remember that night, and the small Integra running into my chamber, scared by her uncle's need for revenge. Her blood released me and her uncle's men perished at my hand. Her fear did not recede. She shot the old man and in that instant the small girl before me grew ever so slightly larger and older, yet at his death she shrunk back to her young form and cried for the one that would help her, the one that wasn't me.
Walter, the angel of death himself, he came to her, dropping his bags at the sight of the dead men and her surrounded by them. He stopped three, maybe four steps in the room and turned away from her. The sigil, it was broken and she was the one that had opened the door. He had called my name, asked if I was there and of course I responded, blood on my hands behind the shivering child. There were no other words between us; he stood before me, shaking his head and ushering her out of my cell. The monster was awake, I heard him say it as he took her away, after everything that he and I had gone through, the war and the ghouls, I was still a monster. I can't blame him, there are times that I can be evil when I want to be.
Monster: somebody whose perceived inhumanity or vicious behavior terrifies and disgusts people. I suppose I'm under that category, but inhumanity, that's just redundant. I disgust my master, though these days the wrong word can do that. She's so tense, my presence doesn't help things along I guess. Does she not remember the things I have done for her, the things I've had to put up with from her? Likely not. I am a figment to her; something she wishes would go away, like a bad dream that will not end. It will, one day when she least expects it, I will be gone and she will be left to fend for herself, so to speak.
My master is not as helpless as I make her out to be, but granted, she is human. There are times that she surprises me, and her greatest time has just passed. I have offered her eternal life, and yet she refuses, remaining stoic in her beliefs that I am a monster and she will not sink as low as to join my kind. Again that word 'monster,' what is the human fascination with that word, as if everything that is old or strange is a monster? Humans are strange creatures, I have lived among them for years, hundreds of years, and yet I cannot begin to comprehend their actions. There are some things better left unexplored I fear, and the human mind is one of them. My mind is another, but that's another story.