I've got a headache and can't edit anymore. Please tell me if there are any typos, etc. and I'll make sure to change them. I figured it'd be better to post it than keep it another day, since I'll be busy...
~death-in-the-orchard
[Don't do drugs. They start brain fires.]
*~*~::..+..::~*~*
Seras wanted to call in reinforcements, the Navy, Sir Integra – whatever might help her fend off this impossible, unreasonable, outrageous demand. She stood stiff, but nowhere near resolute as her master waved and bobbed the pink scrunchie before her unfocused stare. Her current tactic was: play deader-than-usual, or completely lacking in external awareness. But her master, of course, would have forced a boulder to do his bidding – if some poor boulder were unfortunate enough to be his fledgling.
Seras' act was ruined when she quailed at the sudden collision with her face, the scrunchie, which her master had shot between her eyes. Chastised now, the girl retrieved the pink-velvety thing, and then held on to it. Helpless against the narrowed crimson eyes that watched her, void of compassion for her plight. Seras' thin fingers stretched and played with the scrunchie. Warily, she murmured in a quiet tone, "I'm not sure I can help you. I've got no clue... where to start…"
"If you can't do it for me, then tell me how you do it for yourself. Either way, you will have to do something, Police Girl. I can't be ignored, because… being ignored… would make me even more irritable than I already am," the blunt response barreled through the excuse, and then returned to kick the smeared glob of road kill aside, clearing the path for the vampire's agenda. "So tell me how to put on this innocence guise, you seem to have perfected."
The problem is, I don't do anything at all. I just don't do bad things, Master. Don't do bad things, and then you won't need to deal with the consequences. Instead of saying any of this, Seras merely twiddled her fingers into the scrunchie, making knots. "But… I don't know how or what or-"
"Tell me what looks innocent. What communicates unquestionable innocence, in general. Is it the hair bows or clips or colors, the number of hair-tails, or hair bands… what is it, generally that makes a significant difference?"
Seras fidgeted and stretched the pink scrunchie. Wrinkly, straight, wrinkly, straight- "Um… Age, and actually being… well, innocent." She couldn't meet his stare, but still his audible bitterness nipped at her like something feral and overwhelmingly ungrateful.
"Innocence is dependent on age?" he scoffed, at her answer, as though it was utterly ridiculous. "Since when has that been a requirement? Which philosopher came up with that nonsense?"
"Well," Seras put forward earnestly, trying to combat his insulting tone, "…a baby is more innocent-"
The nosferatu sighed heavily, and with folded arms, tapped the elbow of his jacket restlessly. Ignoring the airiness his hated skirt allowed. "From that perspective… by comparison, (between me and you) that might contribute to your case. But is an old nun sinful? Hm?" His smile was unpleasant enough to send Seras' fingers back into a loop of knotting and unknotting. "I say that age-based thesis is a failure. What else have you got? Give me something good, Police Girl. Pretend I'm an alien who's just crash landed on your planet, and knows absolutely nothing about what looks innocent and what looks guil… well, not innocent."
You're an alien alright… "Uh…" She finally had the gall to venture, though she faltered for a few awkward um's. "Is there some particular reason why-?"
"Don't ask questions." He looked her dead in the light-blue puppy-dog eye, and the girl instantly ducked her fluffy head and swallowed her puny courage, with a loud gulp. "Just give me answers, or give me a hand. Really, girls of this day and age are supposed to have some skill in this… field. Whatever you would call it. The study of Frivolousophy and Nonsensicology."
"So…"The wick of her patience sputtering out, along with her capacity to endure this conversation another millisecond, Seras let out a series of mumbles,"I'll go get the other specialists then… because I'm a bit rusty… And given that I've never had long hair... Master… so I'll just-"
He leveled a glare at his chicken, and she nearly swallowed her beak.
Seras bit her lip gently, trying to think. But nothing tumbled out of her brain. Just a sort of flashing error message, or system failure. Does not compute. "How about pig-tails?"
"And those are the twin pony-tails?"
"…Yes, Master. Twin pony-tails."
A look of revulsion passed over Alucard's small features, and he swiveled his head towards the wall, to gaze at it as though his whole world view had suddenly converted to elderly, stagnant pessimism, and crotchety cynicism. "Well then. I'll be needing two of those hair bands…"
"Yes," she reluctantly stepped aside to retrieve and share her hair bands with her master. Given no explanation, of course. No, he wants to make this as uncomfortable as possible…. Sadist, she thought half-heartedly, handing two white hairbands, ornamented with the heads of false daisies, to the great Vampire Alucard.
As though her attachment to the hairbands was the problem, Alucard frowned at her dreary, unenthusiastic sullenness, and reassured her, "I'll give them back. I don't want to keep them." Her unchanged expression showed him his effort had been wasted. So he gave up on the fledgling, and examined the unexpected flower heads, flicking cloth petals analytically. "Good," he hummed to himself. "Quite good, these should do the job. Yes…"
"Mmmhm," the sound that emerged from Seras was more akin to a groan than any other intelligible response. The exhausted fledgling propelled her numb body towards her bed, until she was able to sit on it, like a park bench – she became a slouching, haggard old bird-lady. Staring forlornly at the empty concrete slabs, on the day the pigeons had abandoned her. Oh Sir Integra, what would you do with this sort of nonsense? Master listens to you. He never even hears a single word I say.
She held her face, cupped in her hands, examining the monotonous, depressing, empty carpet. Hoping against hope, that nothing else would be demanded of her. Seras Victoria let out a sigh that did not lighten her dejection, and pondered whether karma could spill over to innocent bystanders, given that the only karma hazard she knew of was her Master, and her own karma levels should be relatively minimal. Even compared to regular high schoolers. Or girls who had never torn through a barrage of ghouls. I even miss ghouls…
Karma spat on her undeserved misfortune as the recently more familiar female voice (of her masculine master) hammered her face into her palms, coming close to smothering her with despair. "Police Girl, just do them for me. I don't have time for this. And I don't think this will be enough. Do you have some other hair ornament that seems… perhaps childish. Yes, childish might be the way to go. Children are young, the younger the more innocent. In this case, with your logic, and these laws – minors, everything about sheltering the minors. Hm. What am I supposed to be? Fourteen? I could easily pass for thirteen. That's better, thirteen – "
Seras was already tapping away desperately at her phone, pressing send, and send, and send- now staring at the screen. The light reflecting in her steady pupils. The distinct notification of a responding text plucked Alucard from his musings, and crimson eyes rolled over to the fledgling. Noting the phone, and her engrossed expression… which was directed at the phone- staring down at the phone- fingertips on the keypad-
"Excuse me."
Seras' eyes were wide, and her limbs were frozen. Slowly the cell phone lowered and crept under her leg, until it looked like she was merely sitting on her hand. Head ducked, fluffy hair hiding her face – Hmmm, Alucard made a multitude of mental checks beside the useful innocence-feigning tactics his chicken was currently employing. But still, he did not pardon her entirely. "Police Girl," the frigid tone trickled down the rivets of Seras' spine. Her painted toes curled inside her socks. "Who was that?"
The girl looked like she'd stuffed twenty sour head candies in her mouth. Her fluffiness failed to hide that. And she fidgeted painfully for a moment. "…N-no one…" the lie seeped through tightened lips.
Seras's synapses underwent a series of epileptic seizures as the phone released not one, but two text notifications – buzzing as well beneath her leg. She smushed it in vain. But finally, the blonde whipped it out of its hiding place, and sought refuge in the responses. Which managed to provide some estranged sensation of relief. But… her master continued to eye her in a very unfortunate way… irritation flickering, kindling – yup, definitely catching.
The raised voice broke into the room just in time to batter against the obnoxious slapping and knocking that was hurled fitfully into their door. "NO. I said NO, Police Girl." Bang bam slap tap 'SERAS! We're Here—' "Are you DAFT?" 'Is that Alucard?' "Are you STUPID?" 'AHAHAHA she sounds pissed!' "Get RID of Them NOW, girl. NOW!" Seras flew to unlock the door, wincing as her master's unheeded commands pelted her back.
The geese flapped and honked their way into and about the room. Then around the fuming Vampire King, who glowered death and misery into their beastly-obliviousness – their incapacity to sense danger after a life of domesticated sheltering and pampering. Harriet planted a flip-flop into the carpet, standing smug and arrogant before Alucard, hand on hip – hostility flaring briefly: "And this has nothing to do with John – right?"
A spasm of disbelief muddled the vampire's rage, "Eh- a-ah… Hahhhh…" The sighed growl puttered its way beneath Seras' bed, under the feet of the short-haired goose who giggled like an inhabitant of a padded cell. Or the one that had managed to escape. Alucard's exasperation ran out of fuel, as he fell silent, glaring quietly at his palm, face in hand. Barricading his supposed dignity and sanity against the deluge of insanity that was about to lay waste to his existence. He was going to steal every last technique and secret these girlies had in their arsenal… No matter what, he would succeed.
Through gritted fangs and a suppressed snarl, the vampire hissed at the haughty brunette before him – quietly, as though she were a drug dealer, and rather than standing in a dorm room, they were huddled against the fence in an empty lot. "I need something effective – I need to look like a normal little girl. How about that? I've got a date with the vice principal."
Given that the vice principal was a woman, no snide comment could be offered. But Harriet's self-righteous gleam, shining in her ravenous gaze, as she smiled down at Alucard, her foe… everything in her expression, compensated for this absence.
"A normal little girl." Harriet considered the challenge at her leisure - while, on the bed, hyperactive overexcitement kicked against the side of Seras' mattress, the short-haired goose giggling manically, with her spastic shoe-less feet thudding like a drunk monkey rampaging against a drum set. In Alucard's opinion. In Seras', it simply made a lot of noise. Though still not the irritating, teeth gritting and jaw fracturing noise that her master perceived. And yet, Alucard exhibited a surprisingly generous wealth of self-control, as he did nothing to stop the hyped-up teenager.
In response to Alucard's statement, the manic goose-girlie announced shrilly, "Pffff- A normal girl- We can do that—!"
The Hellsing Monster glowered at the two ignorant, gloating geese. And then his frightened chicken who huddled against the door.
Do. Your. Worst.
…
The rigid body was helpfully thrust into a chair, taken from Seras' desk, and Alucard was about to be wheeled towards a mirror when the nosferatu's flat protest grunted against this looming fiasco. (His lack of a reflection.) "Oh no, don't spoil it. Let it be a surprise. Do it right here... We don't need a mirror."
The geese cackled with delight, while the vampire spun with the momentum of an abrupt push. The pale face and crimson eyes, a mere blur, as the swirling computer chair returned him to the center of the room.
He was so light, Harriet took pleasure in pushing him about. With the enthusiasm of a sick little boy who'd taped his sister's war-torn Barbie to the back of his remote-controlled monster truck. Zooming this way, that way, spinning wildly towards Seras' desk. Harriet laughed with her mad assistant, and stepped away to assess her assignment. Prepared to give life to Frankenstein's monstrosity.
The fit, twiggy Anna basically vibrated where she stood beside her master. And she shot off to fetch every noun her master uttered, "Brush, comb, lip gloss, eyeliner, mascara-" The girl broke off, to shine a white and sinister smile back at Seras. "Do you have any glitter?"
Alucard was converted into some sort of cadaver twin of his female manifestation. While his shy, anxious little traitorous fledgling, tittered like a sparrow. "No… I don't really wear make-up, but I-I've got a few… basic things…"
"ANNA!" the master boomed into the compacted dorm-room-made-laboratory.
"Uh-huh!" bubbled forth, and the dutiful (nearly frothing) servant awaited her orders – her quivering, never-ending. And, perhaps, a bit Chihuahua-like.
"Go get my make-up bag. And my curling iron. We'll use whatever brushes Seras has…"
At this proposal, the Police Girl relived the moment Father Anderson's bayonets had turned her body into a fleshy pin-cushion.
The cadaver in the chair, meanwhile, sat unresponsive, as the door was flung open by the fervent servant, and Anna's rabid-Chihuahua zigzagging dash down the corridor left a clamoring din of haphazard collisions with stationary walls and shrieked laughter in her wake. Then, her rapid, manic-giggling return... Unsettling, even to Seras. The servant swung herself into the room, gripping the door frame briefly before stumbling towards her leader. "Got them—!"
Anna unzipped the makeup bag with scalpel-like elegance, and then picked at its insides as it lay next to Seras' bag on the desk. The brunette gave her precise instructions for how to go about disemboweling both… "-and then plug in the curler over there," a painted nail flashed in the direction of a convenient outlet. "I'll do her hair when it's hot. But give me the pink eyeliner. Yeah, that one. It's… perfect."
The cadaver in the chair was nearly sightless, remembering to blink occasionally as the face of the notorious Pink Shit Pourer appeared, level with his own. Her warm fingers were on his face when the pink pencil gouged out his (spiritual) manhood. Then the mascara was unsheathed, and the cadaver withstood the commands to blink according to Harriet's needs. "Again…. Again…. …Maybe one more time. Okay, that's the best we'll get. ANNA!"
The cadaver heard the Yes Master! within the penetrating giggle-shriek: "Yeeahh—? What's next?"
"The pink eye shadows- with the red. You know the one I'm talking about, right? Do you need me to find it?"
The cadaver's pupils showed a fleeting contraction suggestive of life.
Anna huffed at her master's lack of faith in her skills, but then the servant's impish face puckered with doubt. "Really? Red?"
"No, just the pink. Pink is girlish. …Red –no. Red wouldn't work," a malevolent hand clapped onto the cadaver's lifeless shoulder, and the voice flicked against his ear, her breath a serpent's tongue. Tasting his misery – the teenage girl swirled and sipped at the scent delicately, cherishing it slowly. Like fine crimson wine. "Right, Alucard? Red is an intimidating color. We want something… more innocent, am I right?" The girl chuckled into his hair.
The pupils had already dilated back into deadness, but the patting hand demanded a response. So a low voice emerged eventually, "That's right."
The mad master initiated the operation, but handed her instruments off to her assistant as she took up the curling iron, then a portion of the cadaver's ebony hair. And she wrapped it methodically about the heated rod. Smiling at her unresponsive captive.
Harriet corrupted every last strand not included in the cadaver's bangs. And continued to give orders to her giggling assistant, reaching back to the desk and handing her tools: "Use this blush – we'll make her look a doll."
"Eeehehehehehee—" the cackle crinkled the manic one's face with glee. "I used to do this ALLLL the time with my little brother- when we were growing up- All the way through fifth grade. AahHAahHAahHA—!" A battery powered baby-doll, nearly drained of power, couldn't have emitted a creepier laugh. Seras pressed herself into the door.
The master cackled loudly above the cadaver's head as her hands toiled within the long raven hair. But soon the final command was delivered. And it expired, as the hands and heat left the hair, the tools were thrown back into the gutted make-up bags, and Harriet returned to the dead face. Pressing Seras' biggest, puffiest brush into the roundish object in her hand - lifting the brush towards the sightless, dimmed eyes. As if to blind them for all eternity.
"Now for the final touch."
…
…Resounding within the dead being…
…
I…
freaken…
sparkle.
I freaken sparkle.
.elkraps nekaerf I
sparkle.
freaken…
I…
…
The foreseen deluge swept him away.
Seras shuddered at his sudden laugh. Anna became still for 10 seconds. And molten irises blazed into Harriet's hesitating expression, as Alucard's own cackle rattled about his skull:
The hell do I need this for? But now- I sparkle. I twinkle. Might as well flit around with Peter Pan- I SPARKLE NOW VATICAN BITCHES, I just KNOW I'm going to see you soon, AND I'LL MAKE YOU SWALLOW THEM. AHAHA! Yes, I mean you-! Father Anderson! I'll sparkle your blessed ass into the GROUND, that's how HARD i SPARKLE. No matter what- Sparkles don't make me, I make sparkles –
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA -!
He saw them, his new aesthetic additions, raining down like Molotov cocktails that shattered into the back alleys of his darkened mind. Flaming over asphalt, shards splaying like kerosene-soaked teeth. His fangs skittered into a storm drain. And then the fire spread over the street.
Burning. Contradictively - brightening, and restoring.
…
With a mental Jackal, especially crafted for these bouts of madness, Alucard executed himself over and over… and over… again.
Bullet after splashing bullet blasting his imagined pink brains across the floor, and blood spattering up the trailing comforter and over the bed beside him. The one he hated and slept in. And would torch, if he had the time.
But he didn't have the time.
…
…
To the girls' relief, his face returned to its usual indifference after only a handful of uncomfortable moments. A few facefuls of demented expressions that warped the demonic child's corpse-like features… into… into…
Yeah...
Anna and Harriet were looking forward to the nightmares they'd be sleeping through tonight. Probably holding on to one another, shivering beneath the blankets – every last light they own would be turned on, in order to scorch their dorm room – and extinguish the terrifying images. With doubtful success.
*~*~::..+..::~*~*
When the mad geese had flown off, silence fluttered down gracefully to settle over the contents of the sleepy room. As though it were the feathers left by the demonic birds.
Seras felt like she'd blacked-out towards the end of this… traumatic what-the-f*** experience - which had lasted a mere 27 minutes of unadulterated crazy…. Faintly, she recalled seeing some distorted thing stand up from her wheelie chair, and leave the dorm room.
When the Police Girl regained enough consciousness to be able to detect her surroundings, she was face down on her bed. And the room was empty.
This being all her feeble arms could manage, Seras pulled her lifeless bulk forward, dragging herself over the mattress – where she slammed her face into her pillow. And went limp.