I have wanted to write some Hellsing for a while, believing I might not botch it terribly and hoping to do it some dark fun. Whenever I think of writing it, I just have to have me some delectable dark and smoky jazz. "A Kind of Blue" by Miles Davis is the inspiration for this little fiver finger exercise in mood and character. Perhaps I will continue it, but nevertheless, enjoy these modal mood pieces for what they are - single servings of pleasure, like shots of scotch or fine cigars...
I. "So What"
He liked the sound of dissonance in its myriad forms and so he stayed to listen...
Walter was trying to decide what needed done before the lady of the house requested it, whatever that might be – it was like a game: who would blink first and admit their immense pride out loud? Be it cigars, finely made incense, peerless antique china or that ever-fascinating English maelstrom of cultural quirks; tea. The dowayne appeared to be deciding on the differences between Ceylon and Sri Lanka for this afternoon's refreshment and was taking little notice of the stylish wash of tidal jazz trumpet and piano as it wafted around his long, tasteful feet.
Alucard had other things by which to occupy his time – most likely, he could make them up if questioned. Or he could just grin knowingly, knowing that bullshit was as good as anything to occupy that annoying time between food.
No not food, never that – call it what it was. Blood...
His dead heart sped up for a few triplets then again was still.
"You may come out of the shadows, lounge and listen, Alucard." Walter spoke cannily over his shoulder, never faltering in his machinations with the tea instrumentation before him.
"And why would I want to do a thing like that, Angel of Death?", the vampire smirked at the old taunt between them.
"Because the music is speaking to you and you would be rude not to listen.", Walter countered easily, finishing his weights and measures for Herself's afternoon ritual, nimbly arpeggiating his long fingers and divesting the unseen speaks of wayward leaf found there.
"So what.", Alucard grinned wider, stepping slowly into the dying light of the afternoon salon.
"Exactly. Stay as long as you like and mind the Gramophone when it is finished, please." Hellsing House's head steward drolly remarked as he and the tea trolley left for their most pressing appointment.
Limber questioning double bass played against his ear, its call answered by the weirdly dissonant and liquid modal piano chords, all of that argued against by the over-arching eloquence of a jazz trumpet. He'd heard similar stuff during the Nazi war but not like this – not this sophisticated conversation between instruments and his ear. The intimacy of the modal jazz slinking out of Walter's old Gramophone was something new and all-together interesting. The voivode within his myriad psyche thought it strange, pagan noise, the alien life of his demons thought of pulsing hearts and sheets of flowing turbid blood, swirling with the strange slides and arpeggios wafting through his ears. The wholly hybrid identity that was his conscious mind thought it was wonderfully new and the warm rippling of life that new feeling engendered within his cool chest was most welcome. Letting his heavy dark head fall back in adulation, the vampire Alucard allowed himself to be seduced...
She found him leaning up against a column in the salon, his red eyes very faraway. Strangely familiar music wandered from the old Gramophone, no less mystical for the patently ancient vinyl hisses and growls that punctuated here and there. People still listened to vinyl pressings, Seras wondered to herself...?
I do not own Hellsing or any of it's characters; no infringement is intended and no money is being made from this fanfiiction.