Little Girl Evening
By Noona
Summary: A short little ficlet (fine understatement) about the encounter between a young girl and Alucard while he's on a hunt for FREAKS. Does she run? Scream? Bash him with a pillow? Hardly. Why not have a polite conversation with him? It's raining outside any who. Short and somewhat humorous. -
A young girl choked up a cough into the witching hour. Several gunshots pierced the storm outside. With a stir she sat up, fumbling in the dark for the bed side light. When located, she turned it on a sipped from a glass of water on the oak nightstand. The rain echoed off the roof in sheets as she bent over a framed photo by the lantern.
"Fine night, isn't it?" One said. She turned. Red duster and a hat the size of her pillow lowered over an unnerving grin lay next to her. Scream "intruder, intruder?" Not a chance.
"If you appreciate the rain. It reminds me of dying sunflowers and stale tuna," she replied offhandedly.
"You have an interesting mind for a little girl."
"I do try."
It was an awkward situation to behold. An open futon sit at one end of a child's bedroom, a girl in her early adolescent years propped up swallowing water to soothe an aching throat while a grown man in interesting garb stretched out next to her, twiddling his thumbs in the lamplight. Why the young lady not shriek for her mother at the presence of a supposed stranger would be beyond any seer. Speak of the devil.
"Why do you not yell at me, child?" He quizzed after a moment's peace.
She gave him a look of confusion. "Mum would have a fit if she found out the pet vampire," at saying this she reached over and took his face in her bare hands, thumbing at his mouth like a veterinarian to a dog inspecting one's teeth. Satisfied when she found his enlarged canines, she continued, "was over well past evening."
"I see," was all he could say in response to that, "how old are you?"
"Thirteen, sir," she informed taking another drink from the cup.
Point of reminiscing for the vampire, he gave an eerie smile. "I once knew a girl your age."
"Really now? Sir Hellsing, she -,"
"Pardon, little girl? How did you know about Integral?" He interrupted with a little more shock in his tone.
"Integral, is it? Dad always referred to her as Sir Hellsing directly," she seemed indifferent to his raise in voice.
"I'm searching your mind, child, but I'm perplexed beyond my liking."
"My father was a Hellsing soldier and a trusted friend to Commander Fargason until his dying day," she spoke of him highly, "at Christmas it was no secret he was proud of what and who he worked for."
"Is that so?"
She started again, "How is Sir Hellsing? Father spoke of her stoical nature highly, as if to be stoical were a good thing." The lamp flickered at the crack of what was expected to be thunder outside.
"A lot like you, in respects," he spoke as he edged to her side of the bed, swinging his feet over the end, "proud, collected, and when it comes to me, in some aspect nonchalant."
"I send my blessings then."
"What's your name, child?" Was the abrupt shift in conversation.
"Eve. Older brother is Adam."
"Sacrilegious?"
She picked up the photo frame wiping a thumb over the glass with a sigh, "apparently not to Mum and Dad, God rest his soul."
The glow of the vampire's goggles pulsed with a glare. He gazed somewhat absentmindedly at her open door leading into the dark hallway. The silence between statements was becoming more and more frequent between them. In the still, she cleared her raw throat.
"Sore throat, child?" He wondered aloud, the lamp flickering again.
"Yes sir."
One gloved hand reached about the collar of her gown with a light touch. A drift of cold on the hairs of her skin and the ache was gone. He returned his line of vision to the threshold. After some time of him staring down the doorframe and her contemplating the ethics of his overly large brimmed hat, she shuffled underneath her cocoon of blankets.
"I have monsters to hunt and more points to add to my abomination scale," he pointed out, sparing her a glance.
She fluffed her pillow and shifted once or twice. "I have sleeping to do," she replied with a yawn. Eyelids a flutter, she turned out the lamp and asked, "I assume you can fare well in the dark?"
"Verily," came his answer. Soon he could hear the patterned rise and fall of her lungs in the dim obscurity. He stood to go, but pivoted back to the futon. With one hand, he pulled the quilt up to her chin and stood back. "My name is Alucard, but I think you already knew," he informed, not expecting much of an answer.
She groaned with a yawn something that reminded him of an "indeed."
When he reached the threshold, she spoke clearly from her bed.
"If you're hungry mother has a dead chicken ready to dry in the cellar by the pantry. Please don't eat the cat on the way out. His name is Gizmo if you pet him."
His distinct smile shone for her through the darkness.
-
By Noona
Summary: A short little ficlet (fine understatement) about the encounter between a young girl and Alucard while he's on a hunt for FREAKS. Does she run? Scream? Bash him with a pillow? Hardly. Why not have a polite conversation with him? It's raining outside any who. Short and somewhat humorous. -
A young girl choked up a cough into the witching hour. Several gunshots pierced the storm outside. With a stir she sat up, fumbling in the dark for the bed side light. When located, she turned it on a sipped from a glass of water on the oak nightstand. The rain echoed off the roof in sheets as she bent over a framed photo by the lantern.
"Fine night, isn't it?" One said. She turned. Red duster and a hat the size of her pillow lowered over an unnerving grin lay next to her. Scream "intruder, intruder?" Not a chance.
"If you appreciate the rain. It reminds me of dying sunflowers and stale tuna," she replied offhandedly.
"You have an interesting mind for a little girl."
"I do try."
It was an awkward situation to behold. An open futon sit at one end of a child's bedroom, a girl in her early adolescent years propped up swallowing water to soothe an aching throat while a grown man in interesting garb stretched out next to her, twiddling his thumbs in the lamplight. Why the young lady not shriek for her mother at the presence of a supposed stranger would be beyond any seer. Speak of the devil.
"Why do you not yell at me, child?" He quizzed after a moment's peace.
She gave him a look of confusion. "Mum would have a fit if she found out the pet vampire," at saying this she reached over and took his face in her bare hands, thumbing at his mouth like a veterinarian to a dog inspecting one's teeth. Satisfied when she found his enlarged canines, she continued, "was over well past evening."
"I see," was all he could say in response to that, "how old are you?"
"Thirteen, sir," she informed taking another drink from the cup.
Point of reminiscing for the vampire, he gave an eerie smile. "I once knew a girl your age."
"Really now? Sir Hellsing, she -,"
"Pardon, little girl? How did you know about Integral?" He interrupted with a little more shock in his tone.
"Integral, is it? Dad always referred to her as Sir Hellsing directly," she seemed indifferent to his raise in voice.
"I'm searching your mind, child, but I'm perplexed beyond my liking."
"My father was a Hellsing soldier and a trusted friend to Commander Fargason until his dying day," she spoke of him highly, "at Christmas it was no secret he was proud of what and who he worked for."
"Is that so?"
She started again, "How is Sir Hellsing? Father spoke of her stoical nature highly, as if to be stoical were a good thing." The lamp flickered at the crack of what was expected to be thunder outside.
"A lot like you, in respects," he spoke as he edged to her side of the bed, swinging his feet over the end, "proud, collected, and when it comes to me, in some aspect nonchalant."
"I send my blessings then."
"What's your name, child?" Was the abrupt shift in conversation.
"Eve. Older brother is Adam."
"Sacrilegious?"
She picked up the photo frame wiping a thumb over the glass with a sigh, "apparently not to Mum and Dad, God rest his soul."
The glow of the vampire's goggles pulsed with a glare. He gazed somewhat absentmindedly at her open door leading into the dark hallway. The silence between statements was becoming more and more frequent between them. In the still, she cleared her raw throat.
"Sore throat, child?" He wondered aloud, the lamp flickering again.
"Yes sir."
One gloved hand reached about the collar of her gown with a light touch. A drift of cold on the hairs of her skin and the ache was gone. He returned his line of vision to the threshold. After some time of him staring down the doorframe and her contemplating the ethics of his overly large brimmed hat, she shuffled underneath her cocoon of blankets.
"I have monsters to hunt and more points to add to my abomination scale," he pointed out, sparing her a glance.
She fluffed her pillow and shifted once or twice. "I have sleeping to do," she replied with a yawn. Eyelids a flutter, she turned out the lamp and asked, "I assume you can fare well in the dark?"
"Verily," came his answer. Soon he could hear the patterned rise and fall of her lungs in the dim obscurity. He stood to go, but pivoted back to the futon. With one hand, he pulled the quilt up to her chin and stood back. "My name is Alucard, but I think you already knew," he informed, not expecting much of an answer.
She groaned with a yawn something that reminded him of an "indeed."
When he reached the threshold, she spoke clearly from her bed.
"If you're hungry mother has a dead chicken ready to dry in the cellar by the pantry. Please don't eat the cat on the way out. His name is Gizmo if you pet him."
His distinct smile shone for her through the darkness.
-