The feud Walter talks about is the Protestant-Catholic potluck of misery that started up in Ireland, as many Brits could tell you. Despite the fact I've actually BEEN to Ireland, listened to a lecture THERE about it, and heard several more before and after…I know next to nothing about it. My memory slipped me. *sheepish shrug* But yes, Walter refers to that, as someone in that position probably would. The next one, calling Maxwell a "slimy Italian bastard" was a reference to a commentary his voice actor and the director did on one of the OVAs, in which he comments "Oh yes, I play the slimy Italian bastard in this." upon seeing Maxwell. I couldn't resist putting it in.
Prompt: Fire vs. Ice:
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! AND IF YOU EVER SO MUCH AS SET FOOT IN ENGLAND AGAIN, I'LL SIC MY VAMPIRES ON YOU!"
"TYPICAL PROTESTANT SOW, RELYING ON THOSE PATHETIC MONGRELS TO DO EVERYTHING FOR HER!"
"I'D CASTRATE YOU WITH THE SILVER SPOON YOU SEEM TO THINK YOU WERE BORN WITH WITH MY BARE HANDS IF I KNEW IT WOULDN'T CAUSE AN INTERNATIONAL CRISIS SITUATION!"
"HOW DARE YOU-"
"Dear God, they're worse than Master and Anderson."
Walter's lips twitched up as Seras looked at the ceiling of the kitchen, forgotten blood pack in hand and her jaw slack.
"It's an acquired dislike Mrs. Victoria. They've spent many long years building it up."
"I'll say. If she hates him that bloody much, how is he still alive? I'd think Master would've gotten him long since, even if she told him not to."
Walter lifted the pan down from the cupboard calmly as the shouting match overhead continued to be clearly audible to those below.
"Just as you heard. If she harms him, or even if he's harmed in a way that connects back to England, there will be a religious international crisis situation of epic proportions. Surely you paid attention in school when they spoke of the feud up north."
"Well yes…"
"Exactly so. He may be a slimy Italian bastard, but as Sir Integra says, it's a necessary evil."
He busied himself in preparing the meal as Seras sucked slowly on the straw of her bloodpack, both half-listening to the tirade of insults pouring back and forth continued above their heads.
Prompt: Just give me some time...
"Sir Integra, the Iscariot man is asking for you."
Not now…
"Mum, if you please, he's being very insistent."
For the love of God, does that man have no idea of patience?!
"Tell him to wait in the bloody hall or get out!"
The maid squeaked and scampered out the door, obviously startled by the snap in her voice.
She irritably rubbed her temples with both hands, growling various words many of her maids would be shocked to hear a young heiress use.
Iscariot came nearly daily, asking if she was sure she was doing alright, surely someone so young might benefit from an elder's experience in such matters, and did she really think she could control Alucard as well as she tried.
It was enough to make the most mild-mannered child take one of the large guns Walter stored in the armory and rampage through the halls of the Vatican until they got the bloody idea she couldn't be controlled and domineered like a particularly lifelike puppet.
She was a Hellsing.
You'd think that would be enough to stop these old men from assuming she was weak and naïve.
But alas, until she snapped, she had to play nice.
Prompt: Maybe tomorrow...
Integra half smirked as Anderson was flung across the hall, smashing into a wall and falling down it as Alucard roared with laughter from the other end of the room, and the priest snarled an oath before launching himself back down the hallway, Alucard's laughter cut off as his head was separated from his shoulders.
Enrico sighed heavily, pinching his nose and shaking his head.
"Should we try to separate them?"
"No. Let them relieve their tensions on each other instead of us."
Their subordinates continued to clash angrily, fighting back and forth as the hallway was steadily reduced to bloody walls and chips of plaster and wood flying about in every direction.
Somehow, this always seemed to happen when the two of them got together to talk about something important that threatened the survival of either England of Catholicism, or rarely a broader threat regarding Christianity.
Alucard would say something, or the priest would give her a particularly hateful glare, and then the two would go at it like hammer and tongs, generally ruining whatever building they were in and causing thousands in property damage and collateral.
Or Maxwell would call him in and she'd have to respond with Alucard out of not wanting to lose any ground.
But this meeting still needed to be finished damn it.
"Tomorrow? Public space?"
"Of course. And next time we should perhaps bring less violent bodyguards?"
"Why not."