Memoirs of Hate
Where Seras Discovers Something Interesting About Her Master
Alucard And His Past
Thoughts Of Life From A Demon Made Human
by Cynical Chaos
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't care.
Sadly, no dedication this time around. Oh well.
The book lays on the table. Both the book and the table are old, sturdy and quite weathered. And by weathered, it comes to mean that the table is of an old, old style that wass new five hundred years ago, having that air of refined age that only truly old antiques can have. The book is a massive tome, bound in cracked, flaking leather. That pages are parchment that somehow survived the ravages of time, they are smooth to the touch and do not disintegrate at the slightest touch. Seras Victoria, agent of Hellsing, vampire and Servant-Daughter of Alucard wondered just why on the bloodied earth this table and this book were kept deep underground, far deeper than even her or her master's coffins, and surrounded by a mixture of black magicks and blessed steel chains. Though deliberately designed to keep vampires at bay, the casters of the magicks had forgotten one small item - vampires could assume a gaseous form that allowed access to a room through the small cracks that inevitably existed. It had simply taken her an hour to find those cracks. And while she didn't have even a fraction of the power her master had, she couldn't take animal form, she had no familiars and little knowledge of the arcane, she was growing. Slowly with all the dead blood she consumed, but growth it was.
So. Here she is in a room that has a single door so heavily enchanted by both the power of light and shadow that even beyond it's area of effect it still made the small hairs on her arms raise, and the only thing it stores is an ancient table and an equally ancient book. To speak of disappointments...
Well, she couldn't just leave with the book unread. That would be almost, well, rude. To have come this way and do nothing? So she steeled herself against the chills she was getting from the wards and walked forward to the book and it's stand. What she read when she opened it startled her.
"So I am finally free. After years that I have stopped counting, years spent experiencing ritual after ritual of dark magick, infusions of blood enhanced by pain and torture, and the summoning and subsequent binding of a most strange being made entirely of blood; I am finally free. Bound though free. Such a fine irony of the humans, a final gift, so to speak, that they release into the enchanted chains of most holy silver, a dank and putrid cell sealed with a circle made of my own blood ... Well I am once again alone, with only my thoughts to give me comfort. So wonderous. These creatures that have sealed me I, strangely I bear them no ill will. None that will last longer than it takes to bathe in the blood of every last one of them that is. I am after all, a vampire and it often amuses me to be true to this bloody nature of mine. If one is given a gift should he not open it and experience it to the fullest? And such is the nature of the gift that I have been given so that I have all of eternity to experience every nuance of it. Haaaaah, yes, eternity. Stuck in a filthy cell that not even the Turks would place a man in. Not unless his execution was scheduled for tomorrow. Hmm. Perhaps finally something to think about then. No, that s a line of thought not worth considering. Perhaps then the exploration of my new and most humble abode? Perhaps there is a opening? A weakness in the construction of the spells and this horrid piece of cloth that they placed about me?
And so it went on, this diary, for it was indeed her master's diary that she was reading, detailing the various spells he had attempted to free himself. Spells that had inevitably failed to penetrate the wards and did nothing more than exhaust him, withering his body away into a desiccated corpse. A corpse that did nothing but dry and wither until the passing of two decades and the fateful occurrence that resulted in his resurrection and promise of fealty to his current master, Integra Wingates Hellsing.
Seras stepped away from the book, a frown creasing her forehead. It was fascinating to read the history of her master, but ultimately boring. But she had started at the middle of the great tome. If she were to...
The hair on the back of her neck and on her arms spiked suddenly as she felt a familiar sensation of cold, remorseless power sweep over her. It was Alucard come to check his life history.
Okay, all. This little sucker was written was to early in the morning so it's off to bed for poor ole me and a hearty farewell from The Cynic.
Until, perhaps, tomorrow, I am,
The Cynic Signing Out.