Author's Notes:
1. After much thought I decided to upload here on as well, but keep in mind: as I cannot upload explicit material here, THIS IS A CENSORED and SHORTER version of chapter 4. If you wish to read the full original version, please visit my profile on AO3 under my nick, GreyPigeon. The link is on my profile page.
This trend will continue. My story and the Castlevania fandom is an adult base. I will continue to upload chapters here for as long as it will be possible without breaking any rules, but I am seriously considering publishing on AO3 exclusively, there is just too many issues with formatting on , the story doesn't look nor feel right.
If you decide to skip the explicit parts, that's still fine and you will probably grasp the plot without any problem, but you will be missing a big part of characterization, reasons for actions and inner workings of my protagonists.
2. I'm sorry for the longer than usual wait, there were some health issues on the horizon and I was debating with myself whe. Hopefully everything is ok now and I gladly present you a new installment. In last chapter I was pretty mean to Trevor, so now there is a chance to remedy it. With this chapter we will be slightly closer to healing two of our protagonists; our soft vampire comes next.
3. Thank you all for wonderful comments! I always look forward to them. Btw, can somebody tell me if you struggle with the narrator's p.o.v.? My beta is raining fireballs on me because I apparently do it wrong.
4. Warnings for this chapter: some witchcraft practices.
5. Disclaimer: Don't own, don't earn. I'm just a fangirl.
PART 4
/*/
They would take turns keeping watch during the night, as Trevor would drift on and off consciousness. Even though he was too weak to even speak and probably not really aware of anything and anyone, the slight tremble of his limbs returned and it was potentially risky to leave him unattended. Ksenia refused to take a nap, as she was the most experienced and knew what to do in case another seizure happened. Alucard allowed himself to doze off in the armchair first; Sypha soon followed suit, laying on the big bed next to Trevor, too tired and shaken to stay awake anymore, but holding Trevor's hand so she would wake at the first sign of his discomfort.
The room was stuffy; four bodies giving off heat and the herbs burnt in the fireplace were filling the room with a heavy scent. In his somnolence Alucard could vaguely register Ksenia opening a window; he realized that the woman is whispering something, making gestures as if chasing something away or throwing something out. He was too sleepy to understand what it was, or why would she do it. His perception was hindered, his thoughts coming and going as if waddling through mud.
The scent, he thought. That might be it.
He could barely hear what Ksenia is saying. She was whispering something to Trevor, some short, beckoning sentences, in that swishing language of hers. She made a gesture around Trevor's head, making a circle with an open palm, and again stood up to throw something inexistent out of the window. After that she reached for a bowl of water standing on the nightstand; drawing a little water into her cupped palm, she raised it high and poured a little over his forehead, then his heart, his abdomen, then his knees and finally his feet. Silvery droplets fell in quiet, cold splashes, soaking into the linen.
Alucard sluggishly tried to figure what is going on. She must have been doing some witchy things. Still half asleep, he willed himself to focus and see better, hear better; she would say something again, ask a question of some sorts holding Trevor's chin up, but this time - to Alucard's disbelief - the man would actually respond, in the same foreign tongue that Ksenia was speaking in. His eyes would flutter just a little to open and look at her, and he would say something. There was a tender gesture following and a quick command. One short word, at which his eyes closed again and his chest rose and fell in a steady, comfortable rhythm of inhales and exhales.
Alucard tried to move, but whole of his body was heavy. He just watched as the woman tied a strip of something red around Trevor's wrist and gingerly put the limp hand back on top of the blankets. He wanted to say something, to stop this whole nonsense, which could have absolutely nothing to do with healing, but his voice wouldn't come up, stuck somewhere deep in his chest. Ksenia must have sensed something though, as she twitched and slowly turned away from Trevor to face the dhampir. She looked at him calmly.
Her eyes, instead of her typical green, were pitch black. And huge.
The reality slipped away in an instant and Alucard fell asleep as if commanded to.
He woke up in the early morning.
/*/
Trevor's head hurt.
The first thing he registered was that headache. It was shooting painful ribbons of ache to his eyes and ears, immobilizing him with a tight grip of dizziness and a harsh sensitivity to light; he winced and shut his eyes, willing himself to remain still and figure out where he is by other senses than sight.
He heard the repetitive cooing of turtle doves outside. A soft breeze would come to the room on the right, where the window was; the air would bring scents of pine, ozone and wetness. Must have been raining earlier.
He was laying on a soft mattress, in a bed, covered in a lush, thick blanket. He could feel that the pillow under his head was a bit clammy, he must have been sweating a lot; he realized he is dressed in one of his loose shirts, which he didn't remember having put on before. The bed linens smelled of sweat and something slightly bitter. Something herbal.
He turned his head away from the source of light and tried to open his eyes. Breaking his eyelids open through a crusty residue that gathered in the corners he saw Sypha's face, blissfully asleep, curled on the far end of the bed, trying to take as little space as possible. She had dark circles under her eyes and smudgy streaks of dry tears all over her face. Trevor felt a heavy pang of guilt low in his belly.
"You're awake," he heard. Ksenia hovered above him with a tired, but honest smile. "You alright? Dizzy?"
Trevor nodded and opened his mouth tentatively to try to speak. His voice came out raspy and completely alien.
"How… how did I do?" he asked wearily, trying to smile with his eyes only.
"Oh, you were a handful," Ksenia muttered, unceremoniously reaching to his face and lifting his eyelid open a bit more.
"...can't remember," Trevor groaned.
"Maybe it's for the best" she said quietly, continuing her examination. "No, all in all it was not *that* bad. I have seen worse. You got off easy, sonny boy."
Trevor's eyes flickered back to Sypha. There was an obvious question in his eyes.
"Yes, she was here all the time," Ksenia affirmed. "She loves you, you know. More than you could possibly imagine."
Trevor sighed tiredly and closed his eyes. "I know," he mouthed.
Ksenia shook her head incredulously.
"Do you know what she said when Alucard wanted to coax her to leave?" Trevor shook his head once. " She said: 'I'm getting him back, and I'm going to help him through it'. And she did. If that's not love, I don't know what is. She accepts you. With all your nasty flaws and such."
Trevor opened his eyes tiredly.
"She must have heard… things… she saw me... shaking and…"
"I get it. You're embarrassed. But it's only fair. Someday you will be there for her." Ksenia spoke gently, taking his hand in hers. "If you push her away now, you might lose her. So grow a pair, apologize and just act normally. Show her some affection, she deserves that, poor thing was watching over you the whole night."
Trevor huffed a small smile and looked at Sypha again. His eyes were indeed full of gratitude, even if he cringed internally at the thought of everything she must have witnessed. He stared at her for a while. She looked beautiful even through her exhaustion.
"Now, Trevor," Ksenia's voice hardened unpleasantly. "There is one more thing I meant to tell you for a while now."
Trevor focused his tired eyes on the woman. He knew what she meant.
"If I see you with a bottle again, you're screwed. I will turn you into a toad, keep you in a jar on the window sill, wait until you shrivel and dry and then feed you to the cat. And you know I am not joking."
"We don't have a cat," he muttered, a shadow of a cheeky smile forming on his lips.
"I am going to get one, especially for that purpose."
"Oh, I know," Trevor smiled, and his pale, sickly grey face brightened a tad. "I know you could do it. And, um… thank you, Ksenia. For everything."
She sighed heavily, looking away through the window, pondering something. Finally she shook her head and patted his hand amicably. "You have terrible memories, Trevor. Terrible nightmares. The least I could do was keep them at bay."
"Thank you."
She took a gentle hold of his wrist and untied the knot of a small red ribbon she had put there last night.
"Think nothing of it," she said, lost in thought. "You saved my life."
"I'm glad I did."
Ksenia smiled and stood up to bustle around and tidy some of the things away.
"Where is Alucard?" he asked after a while.
"Downstairs, making tea. He'll be right back," Ksenia said and as if conjured up Alucard came through the door a minute later, carrying a tray with three cups of steaming tea.
Upon seeing that Trevor is awake, Adrian actually smiled. It was the first real smile that he showed since his friends came back to the castle, and it split his face so abruptly, so noticeably, it stood in such a stark contrast with his unkempt appearance that Trevor was taken aback. Dhampir put the tray on the first flat surface he encountered and came to sit at the bed, still wearing that silly, wide smile, reaching for Trevor's hand.
Before he said anything, he checked for the pulse, listened to the man's breathing and carefully studied his eyes for any signs of remaining intoxication or neural damage. Apparently satisfied with his examination he squeezed Trevor's hand tighter and reached to cup the side of his face.
"You moron. You idiot, you jackass, you knucklehead, you utter imbecile." He enumerated, smiling as he did so. "You had me worried there for a while."
"Did I now?" Trevor teased, reciprocating the grip and smirking brazenly.
Alucard reached to put a hand over Sypha's shoulder and shook her gently. She stirred, taking a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes traveled quickly from the hand on her shoulder to Alucard and to her right, looking for Trevor.
"He's awake, Sypha," Alucard said. "He's alright."
She gasped and a happy smile blossomed on her tired face as she took in the sight. Trevor smiled at her, and she crawled close to him immediately, her hands reaching to stroke his sweaty hair, her lips pressing a chaste kiss on his forehead. They stilled like this for a moment, just allowing themselves to be washed over by relief, to process everything that happened and that it's finally over. Trevor wanted to say things, apologize or give her assurances, promises, but words escaped him as she hid her face in his neck and relaxed next to him. He heard her muffled sigh - or maybe it was a sob? - and reached with his right hand to rub at her back apologetically.
"You scared me so much," she whispered. "I thought you're going to die."
Trevor glanced nervously at Alucard, who pursed his lips tight, giving him a telling look.
"I'm sorry, Sypha. I was an idiot. I will never do that again."
"Promise me."
She rose on her elbow and bore an intense stare into his face. There was a hint of tears lining her eyes, there was a lot of sheer relief there; but there was also this evaporating, retreating fear which had her on edge all night and a fair bit of hurt, and contained, withheld anger. He swallowed, feeling totally vulnerable under this stare, feeling inadequate and pathetic and just sorry.
"I promise," he whispered, failing to hide a tremble in his fingers as he brought a hand to her face and swept a strand of loose hair away. "I promise. I swear, Sypha. My God, I'm so sorry."
Sypha put her forehead to his, leaning into the embrace. She sniffled quietly, reaching to gather him closer, exhausted but needy, adamant on feeling him safe and whole in her arms again. Alucard tactfully retreated from the edge of the bed, allowing them space and some very much needed catharsis after everything that happened. Backing off, he grabbed a mug of tea and made for the door to allow his friends some privacy, and Ksenia followed his example.
/*/
The next few days were blissfully uneventful. After the emotional carnage that Trevor's condition brought upon them all, everybody welcomed the tranquility in their own way, and were grateful that no more surprises or unexpected disasters came.
Alucard focused his efforts into bringing Trevor back from the wrecked state he had put himself in. He was carefully administering medicines and antiseptics, bullying Trevor into drinking plenty of fluids, preparing easily digestible meals and digging through the books in his mother's lab to find as much information as possible.
Thanks to this research he was able to recreate her recipe for a solution which alleviated the digestive tract and allowed for eating solid meals again; Alucard would also go through all of the herbs his mother had accumulated on the neatly organized, wooden shelves in her study and read up on the properties of those he deemed most helpful. Trevor was forced to ingest dry weed of milk thistle three times a day to regenerate his liver as well as boiled flax seed on an empty stomach, much to his discontent and despite his angry claims that is tastes like salty snot.
Trevor knew though that he would eat or drink absolutely anything to make Sypha happy. She was a calm, steady presence at his side, anticipating his every need before he managed to articulate it, but turning into a full-fledged jailor whenever he raised a single objection to Alucard's course of treatment. She would make sure he stayed abed until his strength returned somewhat, that he ate everything he was brought, that he took an afternoon nap and had a good night's rest.
She had been washing him in bed with a soft, moist towel, changing the linens and re-wrapping his bandages, nestling him back into the pillows after each patient treatment so that he could sleep off his headaches and soreness. At first, when he was simply too weak to object, he would drift back into merciful oblivion immediately after she beckoned him to rest, falling asleep to the warm touch of her tiny hand in his hair, caressing him gently. After two days of strict bed regime he was able to do those things on his own, but felt reluctant to rebuff her; she needed this as much as him, truth be told.
Soon he started to feel well enough to discontinue the most potent painkillers and rely on less harsh remedies, but Alucard was adamant that Trevor should take it easy and avoid physical effort as of yet. He fretted that there was nothing they could use as cast for the broken collarbone, so there was a chance of it healing badly; even though Trevor tried to brush it off and did what he could to lighten up the mood, he was worried about it, and the perspective of losing the ability to wield his weapon deeply disturbed him. Being well aware of that, Sypha has spent a couple of hours in the library and based on more medical books specifically pertaining to bone fractures she finally came up with the best possible dressing to immobilize the limb. The arm was bandaged tightly to Trevor's chest, his elbow in the right angle, perpendicular to the body.
The spell of the good weather descended upon them as spring enfolded into its full glory.
The forest surrounding the castle suddenly came to life. Sun would fill spaces between the trees, casting beautiful rays to the mossy ground. Abundance of birds would carry on with their trills, and Trevor spend his days dozing off next to the opened window, taking comfort in the warm breeze, mild, skin-warming sun and birdsong. His ambitious attempts to venture outside were quickly subdued by his own body, as he was simply too weak for that and his knees would give up after he reached the staircase. In the light of that he resigned himself to Sypha and Alucard's care and just stayed put.
To say his patience was tested was an understatement, but he didn't complain; he felt guilty for causing so much trouble already. Staring out of the window at the sun-bathed forest and the protruding, derelict tower of his old home, he allowed his mind to wander, going back and forth over scarce images he had from the night of his delirium and the memories of the early years of his childhood, now coming back to him in an uninvited, unsettling influx. He hasn't gathered enough courage to really talk to Sypha about it, even though he knew that she expected it at some point. He was not ready to find out what he had let out in the open, what kind of nightmares and hallucinations she was forced to watch. For now he just surrendered himself to everything that she felt was proper and allowed her to fuss over him, trying to shove the memories down and failing.
Downstairs, far from Trevor's bubble of demure musings, work was whirring in the kitchen. Ksenia did her best to stock it fully with everything she could find in the forest, meadows and in the stream.
They had nuts and wild berries now, sprouts, sorrel, young beet leaves, snow pea and pearl onion, fresh fish, game, rabbit and white meat; there was a chance finding of quail or partridge eggs. Fresh spices and herbs were drying on strings. One day Ksenia treated them to an aromatic, thick mushroom sauce, explaining that the weird-looking, porous caps of elongated specimens were called morels and were only possible to find in spring. Using only flour and water, over a couple of days the clever woman conjured up starter dough and soon enough they would eat real, freshly baked bread for breakfast.
She cleaned the place up thoroughly, scrubbed the surfaces, took down the cobwebs and mopped the floors, and Alucard could not recognize his own kitchen anymore. It was filled with sunlight, fresh flowers and delicious scents of home cooking and cooling sourdough.
At some point Ksenia ventured out for the whole day alone, leaving the trio to their own devices. When she returned towards the evening, humming and obviously very pleased with herself, there was a goat trotting behind her with her young; Ksenia explained that she found the animals in the forest, close to the one single human settlement she could find, sitting close to the river within a two-hour walk from the castle. She had thought at first that the goats belong to the family of the cooper living there, with whom she talked in hopes of purchasing the animals. It turned out not to be the case; the goats simply appeared out of the blue and just followed her home. It was all weird and difficult to explain - but very real in the same time and it caused quite a stir when Ksenia returned home with them.
The animals stubbornly refused to leave Alucard's fenced-off flower garden, nibbling on his nasturtiums. He didn't take it well. When he tried to relocate the horned nuisance somewhere else to save the flowers, the mother goat displayed a blatant lack of cooperation, simply staring at him with contempt, unmoving and chewing on the young stems; close to losing it, Alucard stormed into the kitchen ready to give Ksenia a real tongue-lashing, but he was quickly bribed with a glass of warm milk and a thick slice of bread with honey.
"Where did you even get honey from…?" he asked, dumbfounded, meekly accepting the plate into his hands.
"You have a beehive nearby in the forest, didn't you know? There wasn't that much of honey in, which is understandable after the whole winter, but the bees were so nice, very docile. They agreed to share." She said and went out to yell a couple of sharp, nasty words in Polish at the goats, who reluctantly, as slow as possible, vacated the flowerbed and were tied off at the outhouse.
/*/
Sypha was troubled.
As grateful as she was about Trevor's improving condition, she could feel that with every passing day he becomes weirdly distant from her. Usually quite happy to follow with hugs or caresses in private, now he wouldn't initiate any contact, and sometimes even avoid hers. There was a broken, sad tinge in his eyes, like when she first met him in Gresit, the brusque edge to his voice, as if he regressed from the confident warrior he was back to an aimless tramp, or as if he lost something important that had been slowly sprouting in his soul during their travels together. Now it was gone, and his hard-won poise with it.
The worst part was that Sypha couldn't be quite sure when this change first happened. Was it straight after they left the decimated town and the frightful pit behind? After he snapped and killed four people on the gallows in Sybim? Or was it when he had to swallow the indignity of going through withdrawal in front of everyone? She couldn't pinpoint it, so she was not sure how to comfort him.
Sypha understood that this situation cannot be in any way easy on him. She didn't push him into talking about it. She didn't force him to open up.
But she had needs too. She was hurt too, and she was feeling lonely and vastly inadequate. She wouldn't mind a hug. Or ten.
Tending to Trevor's wounds and needs helped to combat her unease, but only to some extent. The inability to coax a reaction out of him reminded her of Alucard, and this topic frustrated her even more, because as far as Adrian was concerned, she couldn't achieve a single thing.
The dhampir stubbornly refused to say anything else on the matter of why he impaled two people in front of the castle. He avoided and ignored any mentioning of his wounds, which were still visibly not healing and developed a nasty, sticky sheen, as if they were going putrid. The matter of his thirst was a complete taboo. When Sypha approached the topic again, he promptly fled from her, and what hurt her the most was that he started to avoid her altogether. After being relatively accepting just after their big argument and later, when Trevor was ill, in the span of twenty-four hours he turned right back to totally shutting everyone off in terms of physical contact. So while with Trevor Sypha could at least make sure he was comfortable or on his way to getting better, with Alucard even that little bit was out of her reach.
At least the dhampir was persuaded into brushing his hair and changing his clothes once in a while. A bitter victory, because once he did, he pulled his hair back into a loose braid which only underlined his sharp features, grayish complexion and dark circles under his eyes. A fresh white shirt made his face look even more ghostlike, and as he picked a slightly more clingy garment, it was only more evident how much weight he had lost.
His negligence towards the way he looked worried Sypha to the core. He would always pay attention to the state and quality of his clothes, he took pride of his silken hair, his most recognizable feature; to see him treat it as something that would bother or disturb him, something that needs to be managed and tied off clearly indicated a shift in his personality, a harrowing sign of depression which was only deepening with time.
In her frustration, which threatened to burst her heart open and apparent inability to help, Sypha decided to leave both men alone for a while.
Maybe that would be better, since they were not benefitting anything from her presence. Maybe she could try their tactic for herself and just be alone for a time. She asked Ksenia for directions to the human settlement by the river; sensing her agitation, the woman gave her a hug and pressed a small basket with leftover lunch into her grip.
/*/
Alucard sneaked quietly into his mother's lab, closing the doors behind him in a swift, inaudible motion. He froze at the shadow of a big bookcase and listened in for a second, checking for any occupier; he had no wish for any human contact.
He had no wish to endure any more pained glances from Sypha. He had no wish to try and accommodate Trevor's caustic sense of humour. He had absolutely no wish to discuss anything of importance or organize anything with Ksenia. He was tired. He was sore.
He was absolutely fed up.
Frankly, he could no longer ignore what was happening to him; the wounds left after the feral silver cords not only refused to heal by themselves, but have steadily gotten worse. They were very tender, red and swollen, in some places bleeding and leaving irritating stains all over his garments. On his left wrist, where he kept picking at the infuriating injury, it started to seep with unpleasantly smelling suppuration, and the flesh underneath was badly discoloured by now. It was only one of his problems, though.
He couldn't sleep. He didn't feel like eating. He was constantly cold and tired, and he couldn't quite understand why is that the case; it could be because of the more and more apparent thirst, but he had never felt it to this extent before. He felt utterly weak. Almost like his supernatural strength and constitution evaporated, leaving him simply human and powerless, a brittle shell prone to breakage.
But as much as physically he couldn't feel his vampiric strength anymore, other aspects of him, the ones he would prefer stay buried, started to manifest. He could tell he is acting less and less like himself. Craving for blood became a factor, and he felt not as much petrified, as disgusted by it.
He noticed it first over the unfortunate event of him crying next to Ksenia; his tears were not normal, but bloody. Adrian shook his head at the recollection. His dhampir body was all haywired; his unique situation of being a half-breed led to very surprising occurrences and symptoms sometimes. This, however, he recognized immediately. His need for nourishment weakened him badly, robbed him of strength and clarity of thought, and the more agitated he was becoming, the more he would upheave the gentle balance of his double nature. His body craved blood; it needed it to survive, to keep supporting his immortal self. But his human part, especially his human mind, in the traumatized state that he was in now, would absolutely abhor the idea and it would manifest.
It had happened to him before in the past. When he was younger. The more he needed blood, the more he would refuse it, and his body reacted by causing even more damage - robbing him of the only thing that could bring him peace, crying the blood out, making him prone to bleed, finally even forcing him to vomit it. His mother had been completely terrified when she first discovered what the thirst could do to Adrian.
His father was simply furious that his only son would refuse blood. Defy his nature.
Adrian hated thirst. He couldn't align his thoughts in a proper and orderly manner, he couldn't focus on work, play or rest or basically anything. He would suffer migraine, from mild to head-splitting in the span of a single hour, light of day would suddenly become offending, hurting his eyes and affecting his concentration so he would automatically switch to a more nocturnal routine. There would be fatigue, dizziness, irritability and uneven heartbeat or swooning vision, motoric troubles, and plenty of other small, bothersome, little things; and then there would be the frightening things, like lapses in memory.
And hunger pangs. Craving. Inability to reign himself in.
For now Alucard felt the need to stay away from others as much as possible. He couldn't focus with them in the same room. He knew that he can still easily control himself, even through the more and more appealing scent of blood that emanated from their warm, human bodies, but he just couldn't force himself to suffer unduly. The sweet and powerful pull of blood, the thick, velvety hum of it in their veins was messing with his head; as was the deal he had made with Trevor. He would involuntarily imagine the hunter's neck sometimes. The delicate thump of pulse underneath the surface of his skin. A hand which he would fist into his hair to position his head with a harsh pull. His mouth closing over the delicate skin of his throat.
Fuck. No.
Alucard pushed his back away from the bookcase. He had to clear his head, focus.
He went closer to the long, metal-bound table in the middle of the lab, trying to figure out where to even start. The wounds were the most pressing matter; he resigned himself to trying to treat them with conventional methods, having no other alternative. He figured that he could compose a healing salve based on his mother's notes fairly easily, but he needed to find the appropriate information and ingredients list first. He swept a look around the table, which was scattered about with books and some tools, a mortar and a pestle, a couple of glass containers, a bottle of oil.
Sypha must have been here, he deduced.
He picked up the book closest to him. It was lying with the spine up, opened on a page about properties of aloe vera; Adrian went a few pages further, where a section was marked with a piece of ribbon. Plantago lanceolata, narrowleaf plantain. Description, habitat, medical usage. Skin irritations, surface wounds, epidermis regeneration.
Adrian frowned; he began to pay attention. More books had marked pages, there were also loose cards laying about with lists of burn remedies and a basic recipe for a customizable, moisturizing salve. One page was neatly covered in small, quick, cursive lettering Adrian recognized as Sypha's handwriting.
More information. Honey and it's antiseptic properties. Further on the right one book, especially big, covered in black leather and with metal clamps on the sides, left open on the page describing silver burns. It had particularly nasty illustrations. This book was not from the lab; it looked like something one would rather find in the bowels of Belmont Hold. Adrian grimaced; he avoided touching it altogether.
More notes. His mother's journal.
...consistent, unyielding swelling and a deep red-coloured irritation. With severe burns of this type it is possible for the flesh to start rotting and thus infecting the subject more, causing comparable symptoms to human affliction of the sort, including high fever, which is highly surprising given the vampire's immortal and self-restoring nature. For the subject I used a cream made of a mixture of honey and wine, with added aloe extract. It reduced the swelling to a bearable degree, though the most effective cure I have found was still my blood, dabbed on the skin or ingested.
Adrian turned his eyes away. He felt weak. He had no patience for this. No stamina left to handle reading her mother's medically rendered recollection of the day when she treated Dracula's silver burns.
He moved further down the table.
A small white porcelain container caught his attention. He popped it open; there was a yellowish ointment inside, smelling faintly of honey and something sharp, refreshing, cutting into the nostrils with the unpleasant sting of volatile substances; a little bit like scent of mint would, but it certainly wasn't mint.
Adrian scoffed humorlessly. Sypha. Good, caring Sypha. She must have been working here during Trevor's naps and through late evenings, trying to figure out a salve for him. Adrian shook his head and braced himself on the table; there was a very tangible feeling of guilt pressing his shoulders down.
He tried the salve on one of his wrists. Just a dab, scooped from the porcelain jar with one finger. It stung at first; he hissed at the irritating feeling sending needles of pain into his hand, but soon a wave of relief came and he arched an eyebrow at the sudden effectiveness of the ointment. He reached to the jar again, scooped more and just smeared it all over his forearm.
I should probably clean and disinfect it first, it occurred to Alucard as more stinging and then more relief washed over him in a calming wave. He sighed; there should be some pure alcohol on the shelving for disinfection, but he should probably pay a visit to the bath and clean himself up thoroughly anyway.
At least the salve worked. He could clearly tell the difference between his hands; the one he smeared with the ointment felt a bit better, slightly colder, while the other was still irritable and swollen hot. He examined the skin, bringing his hand closer to his nose; the swelling and discolouration was still there, but the pain diminished to a tolerable degree.
What did she put there to work so well? Adrian sighed. He will have to thank Sypha later.
Passing the table he accidentally knocked down a pile of books with his hip; he groaned in irritation at whoever laid them so dangerously close to the edge in haste or forgetfulness, but resigned himself to picking them up anyway. "Remedies for the soul", he read a title from one cover. Oh, great. "Meditation and breath exercises in relation to self-induced malaise recovery. A case study". Riveting. "Psychologius". Whatever that was, he had no idea. Then there were some pages about exercises for the core muscles and stretches of the upper body, which confunded him; he put them away without a second thought. He picked up the last book. It had fallen on the floor first, tumbled away and remained open on the page with a rather suggestive illustration.
...healing by manipulating the chi energy in Far Eastern medicine, as understood by 'raising' the chi; often called Fhangzang, or healing intercourse; associated with properly conducted sexual encounter and performing certain rituals to restore the balance of the humours…
"Oh, Sypha," Alucard muttered quietly to himself, sighing and throwing the book on the table with disdain.
He circled the table and approached the shelf next to the wall in searching for the bottle of spirit. He found it and took it with him, making it to the door. As he closed it behind him a thought occurred; suddenly a distressed frown split his forehead.
"Ugh… mom."
/*/
"...these people lead their life far away from the towns or villages on purpose. They are originally from a place near Arges, as they said. But they have moved here a couple of years ago. I think that was because they didn't feel safe."
Sypha was sitting at the kitchen table, allowing herself to slump down in the wooden chair in a manner that was very unlike her. Dispirited, she was staring at a wicker cage on the floor, where five yellow chicks would sit among the hay and straws, huddled under a mother hen and squeaking from time to time. She has brought the cage back from the farm. Ksenia was absolutely overjoyed that Sypha managed to purchase the chickens from the cooper family; it meant, in the long run, a steady supply of eggs and poultry. Sypha had thanked her meekly upon return, glad to be of help, but ultimately not happy with her walk at all. She could find no solace in solitude.
"Why? Are they somehow safer here, in the wilderness?" Ksenia asked, absentmindedly petting a yellow chick with her finger.
"They probably wanted to be left alone. The two of them are a just a regular couple, but their son... stands out. I think he is ill. They don't have any other children. They wouldn't want to talk about it, but I think they were escaping the suspicions, prosecution, wrongful accusations. Well… the Church, I mean." Sypha sighed.
"He is ill? Ill how?"
"I'm not sure. He has spots on his skin. Big, brownish ones. Not like freckles, but rather like he had two different skin colours, coming together in a ragged pattern straight through his face, the spots are all over his cheek. So my guess is, he could be targeted as abnormal, as... not human, demonic, you name it."
Ksenia nodded. "Yeah… There is a disease like that. I don't know much about it, and I certainly don't know where it comes from, but I am quite sure that these people are completely normal, if a little different on the outside. Aren't we all, anyway? But your guess is probably correct. You have seen him up close?"
"Not close, just for a second. He emerged from the house and his father told him to go back inside at once."
Ksenia murmured in confirmation.
"Oh, for crying out loud." Sypha moaned. "Whenever I turn, no one wants to talk about their problems or find any solutions, but keeps hiding them, keeps avoiding other people, and it only makes things worse, it gets out of hand. I seem to be waddling through never ending mud here."
Ksenia was looking at Sypha carefully.
"It's not like they could be sure they can trust you. Why don't you tell me… what's really bothering you, dear?" she asked.
Sypha stared into the fire as she draped herself over the table. She put her chin on the polished wood and sighed deeply.
"I just… it's nothing. I am still a little tired. Probably selfish. Missing my family for the first time in a longer while."
"Selfish? You? Nah." Ksenia sat next to her at the table. "You have been doing more than enough to take care of everyone, first on the road, when I was just a pile of shaking goo, then here. You are here for Trevor, tending to him, nursing him. You are here for Alucard, if it wasn't for you, he would probably still be running around on all fours. So that's not it. Tell me."
Sypha smiled sadly.
"I'm just… I am lonely. I'm sad. All that happened… that's still happening, because Adrian needs help… all of it is just hard. Harder than defeating Dracula. It was easier to stand up and conjure ice and fire and achieve something. But now? My friends and loved ones are suffering, and I can't help them, I'm forced to just watch it happen. And... I need help, too. I want to be hugged. I want to be touched. I want to feel loved. I… I need some affection, and I feel so stupid, because it's something so unimportant in comparison to their problems, and I don't want to ask for it, because…"
"Sypha. You are not made of iron. You are unwell too, and you've been helping everyone regardless, foregoing your needs in favour of theirs." Ksenia took her hand and squeezed tightly. "Alright, so maybe you don't have liver damage, but it doesn't mean your issues and health troubles are lesser or unimportant. They are of a different kind, because you weren't stupid enough to drown in moonshine."
"Ksenia. But it's so much more than liver damage, Trevor's psyche is completely scarred, he's just stuck in painful memories so badly. How can I demand anything when he has so much to process?"
"Oh? And how do you think he's going to heal that scars, if not with you? Oh dear, you are his medicine, and he is yours. That pinhead, I told him not to treat you with distance."
"He's probably thinking I will demand him to say a lengthy monologue and pour his heart out about everything he went through that night." Sypha grimaced. "But I wouldn't. If he ever wants to talk, great, I will only love him more for it. But I know he is not ready. I understand. I wish he knew that I wouldn't... push him."
"I think you are putting too many thoughts in his head. He's not really… rationalizing it as much, he's just ashamed and unable to handle it. Rightfully so, he did a number on himself."
"But I don't want him to feel ashamed, I just want him to be there for me! I want him to... I want him to hold me!" Sypha shifted on the chair with irritation, straightened up abruptly. "And he won't move close to me at night, he will only kiss me on the cheek or on the hand, like an absurd white knight or something! Did I somehow grow a moustache or turned into his mother? His caretaker, all of a sudden? I want the old Trevor back, my boorish, tactless, crude Trevor! I miss him."
Ksenia nodded patiently.
"I get it. You need to understand, though, as bad as it sounds, it's not about you." Sypha shot her a look. "In the sense that you did nothing wrong and your... image didn't change. Rather, it is about him. He has a problem with himself, as not being good enough anymore. Touching you with the same hands that were shaking so much? Kissing you with the same lips that blurted out nonsense and horrors? Protecting you, being with you, when he was curled in a ball and petrified, and it was you who stood above him? Can't you see? He is, after all, very… masculine. It's quite a typical issue."
Sypha's small, shapely nose wrinkled in irritation.
"But it's nonsense! I don't mind that he needed help! Thinking like that doesn't bring help with anything and it's just self-destructive."
"Hah. You are looking for logic and sense in emotional states, which are anything but. Sypha, my dear: I wouldn't be too worried about the 'scars on Trevor's psyche', as you put it. His psyche is a pretty straightforward mechanism, there's not much to break there."
Sypha rolled her eyes.
"You're not helping." She said, but there was a smirk on her face now.
"So let me break it down for you. You gained his trust and respect, you're a masterful magician and a competent warrior, matching him in ability, but in your own field. That got him interested. Then he noticed that you're actually a very good looking woman, and when you took him to bed, he fell in love with you. And once he did, he is going to love you till his dying breath, trust me, I would know. You did nothing to alter your image, acting motherly is not wrong, and on your level of relationship it's a very positive reinforcement. This has nothing to do with you. It has absolutely everything to do with him, it's his image that got altered, if not in your eyes, then in his own. You want to break out of this? Just tell him what you need, give him a task to do, if he manages to fulfill it, it will make him feel better and more adequate."
Sypha pouted.
"It's not that difficult that I need a hug, really. He should be able to put it together on his own."
"They never do, honey," Ksenia laughed. "They never do. But seriously, Trevor would do anything for you, you just have to tell him what you expect. He will yet surprise you."
Sypha smiled shyly.
"Oh Sypha, cheer up, please. You are such a dear." Ksenia leaned in to pull her into a hug, which she gratefully accepted. "And you helped me so much today, the chickens are great. See, that's some real thinking, Alucard and Trevor wouldn't come up with it if their life depended upon it," she snorted.
"Is Adrian going to be ok with the chickens?" Sypha asked, smiling. "He had objections towards the goats, didn't he?"
"He'll survive," Ksenia scoffed. "But we should probably put together a chickencoop for them, kitchen is no place to keep them, as lovely as they are now."
"They're cute," Sypha agreed.
"By the way, how did you pay? It's not like we have a lot of money…"
"I figured we're not really going to be spending a lot these days, so I took half the gold we had left. And they had a problem with the leaking roof, so I fixed it for them." Sypha smirked.
Ksenia sighed contentedly, looking at the sleeping chickens, but a small shroud of worry crossed her face.
"So… that family. They are aware now that there is a magician in the castle, and they saw me as well. Anything else they know?"
Sypha took a deep breath, carefully considering her answer.
"I think they were aware of Alucard inhabiting the castle way before I could lead them on to something. They are afraid to get close, of course, but… I think it doesn't bother them, they're not the type to lay awake in their beds at night, worried about a scary vampire who will come to drink their blood. More, they might actually be glad, because the vicinity of the castle grants them peace and quiet. Same as the ruins of Belmont Estate. It's no man's land. Ever since the excommunication, the fields and all demesne has been all but abandoned."
"What about the night creatures? Are they not afraid of these? They don't blame any strange occurrences on Dracula's castle?"
"They were bound to have had encounters. But... I honestly couldn't say. They were very calm about it all." Sypha's brow furrowed. "But now that you mention it…"
Ksenia sighed and yawned quietly, rubbing at her eyes.
"That's one interesting family, and they are hiding something for sure, but there's no point in worrying. Should they want to spread the word and come here with pitchforks and torches, they will, but… somehow they didn't seem threatening."
"Yeah… a quaint, pleasant couple." Sypha agreed. "Did you see Alucard today?" she asked all of a sudden.
"No, not even at breakfast" the answer came. "He was very elusive."
Ksenia thought that Sypha is going to get gloomy again, as she was seriously concerned about the state Alucard was in, but her brow furrowed in an expression of intense thinking that had no indication of worry. She bit on her lower lip in focus as she would sometimes do when trying to decide upon something and her eyes wandered involuntarily to the mantelpiece, where the two dolls were still sitting.
"Do you still have that needle and thread somewhere?" she asked.
Ksenia got up, handed her a kit from one of the kitchen drawers and settled for making some tea. Sypha got to work with enthusiasm; she didn't really need to say what she's making, as it was pretty obvious. A small roll of white cotton wrapped in twine became the head, and loose strands of hay acted as blond hair. Two copper buttons were sewn on to act like Alucard's eyes, the elongated body and two thin legs were made out of a black sock. Ksenia cut out a piece of the fresh kitchen cloth for the staple white shirt.
"I thought I can see a little… spark of energy in him, maybe? Alucard really got it together for Trevor. But now that there is no immediate danger, all I can feel from him is a void. Again." Sypha muttered, focused on sewing the head of the doll to the torso.
Ksenia nodded sadly, checking on the kettle.
"Can't you do your witchy things to read him like you read Trevor?" Sypha smirked.
"Ooh, not a chance."
"Why? Because he's a dhampir?" Sypha asked, suddenly curious.
"No. Because I'm scared to try," Ksenia admitted.
Sypha blinked a couple of times, staring at her in disbelief.
"But… he is not dangerous. Are you afraid of him?" she asked seriously.
Ksenia shook her head no. "Sypha, 'afraid' is not the good word here. But I don't look forward to provoking his anger, either."
Sypha shook her head and returned to sewing.
"Is that why you agreed to sleep in the camp? That is incredibly unfair and don't tell me otherwise. After everything you have done… No, I am having a word with him."
"Leave the man be, Sypha." Ksenia put a mug of hot tea in front of her. "I am not camping anymore. He let me stay here straight after that night of Trevor's illness, so I did."
"Where? Do you have a room now?" Sypha lit up in a smile. "Finally! Can you show me?"
"Right here." Ksenia pointed at the back of the stove.
There was a narrow niche behind it, close to the wall, usually meant to keep firewood in. Ksenia has apparently swept the place up and nested it with blankets and pillows to act like a bed. Sypha blinked in surprise; she was obviously thinking that's weird.
"But… why wouldn't you… use a real bed?" she asked, dumbfounded.
"This is how I always slept in my home, back in Poland. This is how my mother slept in her time. It's the cosiest place in the whole house, and a blessing in winter. It is probably less known to your people; but in small houses of peasants of Poland, where the kitchen was the biggest, sometimes the only room in the hut, everybody would sleep there, behind the brick stove."
Sypha's lips came together in a perfect little 'o' when she understood something.
"Oh I see, normally the fire would be kept in the kitchen all day, and in the evening, even as it would die off, the whole stove would still be warm and keep you cozy all night," she said.
"Exactly. And the winters can be quite severe in Poland, too. So this is why, and… Alucard said I can pick any place. So I did."
"It reminds you of home," Sypha whispered, glancing at the other woman with fondness.
Suddenly there was a noise coming from inside of the castle, on the corridor adjacent to the kitchens; they could hear slow, heavy steps approaching. The two glanced towards the door; in the dim light spilling from the room to the empty passageway a stoop-shouldered silhouette appeared.
It was Trevor; he stopped there to lean on the doorframe, a little out of breath and with worry written all over his face.
"There you are, Sypha," he said quietly. She shot him a surprised look from her seat.
Trevor fell silent, not exactly knowing what to say or do next.
"I was… I was looking for you. I was worried, I haven't seen you all day." He said, stirring finally and coming closer to sit at the table.
Ksenia shot Sypha an arched, appreciative eyebrow as she moved to make Trevor some space and pour a cup of tea for him as well. As she moved behind him, she mouthed a silent 'told you so' to Sypha, who did her best no to smile. Trevor sat down and glanced with timid interest at the small doll Sypha was holding in her fingers.
"I went for a walk to the settlement by the river. There is a cooper living there, with his family. They sold me some chickens. The weather was so beautiful, I thought some time outside will make me feel better. You needn't have worried," Sypha explained, picking up the white strip of fabric and trying to fit it over a doll to fashion a shirt.
Trevor knew right out something is the matter; mulling over her unnecessarily polite answer, he glanced at Ksenia looking for help, but the woman spurred on her heel and pretended to check if the chickens are asleep.
"You're making Alucard?" Trevor tried, looking back to Sypha and the doll.
"Yup. I wanted to cheer him up." She answered.
There was a moment of tense silence, where Sypha continued to fuss over the shirt, Trevor blew air on his mug and Ksenia did absolutely nothing to alleviate the stiff air. It was quickly becoming uncomfortable, but Sypha took her sweet time with the shirt. Once she figured out the collar to be exactly pointy like she intended it to be, she slowly picked up the needle, never looking at Belmont.
He shifted uncomfortably. Sypha could almost see the heavy gears turning in his head, as he pondered what the hell was going on and how he can somehow remedy it.
"He needs a sword," Trevor said finally with some effort. "Would you like me to make him one?"
Their eyes met.
"Yes, I would."
Trevor smiled tentatively; Sypha responded with a beautiful smile of her own. The tension was suddenly gone, as if it evaporated. Trevor sighed with relief; he asked Ksenia to pass him a small piece of wood from the pile next to the stove and a sharp knife and he began carving a sword clumsily. It was a very simple design for a pointy stick, crooked in a couple of places where the wood was slightly warped. Sypha finished fumbling with the shirt, and they also came up with the improvised belt made from a piece of wire to hook the sword on it. All in all the similarity was visible, and they were pretty proud with the finished result. It was something they had done together, as best as they could given the scarce materials.
Trevor deduced from the small, content smiles, quick looks and fleeting touches of Sypha's hands on his own as they were working on the doll that he did well and this was what Sypha wanted all along; them doing something together. He felt a painful prick at his conscience, but seeing her face smiling down at the small doll they created he shoved it deep down to fret about some other day.
The trio finished their tea, sat Alucard on the mantelpiece next to his companions, and then Sypha took Trevor by the hand to lead him to their room.
/*/
Outside of their door, a big white wolf run effortlessly up the stairs and sniffed for a while, as if searching for something. After a while of hesitation, it made two circles in place and slid on the stone floor. The wolf curled in a ball and covered his muzzle with its tail; after a while, a steady rise and fall of breath coming from the lean ribcage indicated that it fell asleep.