#int.w/etienne

[alucardrakul]

@etienneulven location: Nornwatch Keep notes: meetcutemeetcutemeetcute

tw: blood

Temperance was key, but at Nornwatch Keep there wasn't much of an option but to survive off of scraps and the generosity of his brothers-in-arms. Blood was the only thing that sustained him and by now the legionnaire had grown accustomed to the acrid taste of darkspawn blood - the blight flowed through his veins and the Joining had made him immune to the taint, but that did not make it enjoyable. Now, for the first time in a decade, fresh blood and warm bodies were at hand, and for all of Alucard's dedication, he was still a creature of the night. Beholden to the siren song of ichor that swam in the veins of those about the Keep.

There'd been an offer, and Alucard would have been remiss to refuse a warm meal after eating nothing but rot for so long. Alucard knew something of restraint, but by terms of the undead, he was still young, and the moment he pressed his fangs into the tender crook of the woman, his resolve crumbled. Venom bloomed euphoria under her veins as the soft moans permeated the air about them, her ichor flowed over his lips and spilled across his chest as he cradled her fettering heart against his body. One warm mouthful swallowed as another spilled across the tarmac of his tongue, and then he swallowed another as soft hands curled over his arms.

An intrusion snapped him out of his stupor as he looked towards the man who stood now at the door, Alucard's face was painted with blood, his body and clothes the same. White, hot shame washed over him as he thought about days long past of the debauched thralls he'd held to his whims, following in the footsteps of a father that he refused to idealize.

"Leave." Alucard spat at the swooning woman on the floor, whose hand came to her neck before she rushed out - blushing after her tryst with the dhampir was interrupted. A sword slid from its scabbard as he hovered over the Iskaran refugee, it went to the man's throat immediately because this was a private space. Not one intended for the wandering eyes of ungrateful refugees fleeing from powers none understood. The blade tilted his chin to look up at Alucard's searing, red eyes. "You should not be here."

[alrikhart]

There had been a whole life that Alrik could have and should have lived had his world not been interrupted, but even that was a fantasy. The Iskaran rites of passage had never been his world; his father had tried to shape him into something that could pass without detection. The truth was they were only delaying the inevitable. At the very least the twins had not been sent to the Watch, they'd made it long enough to have a life together as children. Memories that Alrik could still remember with a measure of fondness. "Afraid I don't have anything to compare it to," Etienne might have been a bit of an oversharer but Alrik couldn't relate so he just probed at what the other had offered up freely. "Was it a happy match?"

He's got a whole list of names that he thinks actually fit the wolf better and as they've traveled it's become a bit of a game. Etienne would suggest something, Goose would grumble, and it'd just keep going on as they moved through the forests. But perhaps Alrik is right, there's something about the guy that just sort of suggests a wiseness beyond his years. It's oddly comforting and he tries not to think too hard on why that is. "What's it like growing up with someone?" It's a stupid question, but it's something he is curious about. "I was an only child 'til my mother remarried. Even then, I've never met my sister face to face."

[alucardrakul]

Etienne didn't sound Iskaran but Alucard liked that it painted the boy with the wolf as different from the rest of the refugees. Still, Alucard also preferred the makeshift monicker he'd come up with on the spot - and Etienne had said he was fond of it as well, so for now the dhampir would keep it. If their paths crossed in the future, it'd be a marker of the familiarity between them; there was nothing warm about Alucard's response, he didn't really know what to say in case Etienne had only been joking about liking the title so he just stood there, staring for a moment before the wolf boy continued. Red eyes stayed fixed and unblinking as they bore into the man. Sometimes strigoi still did the unnecessary actions of life - breathing and blinking. Alucard had never needed to, so forcing himself to do so now for the comfort of others felt redundant.

The result was the characteristic, menacing stare that Alucard gave everyone and everything. One of the problems associated with never seeing his reflection.

Would it be gauche to provide a title? Alucard tried to think what Riandur would do in this situation, probably something interesting like a family name but Alucard hated associating himself with his father. He'd shed the surname Drakul long ago and didn't abide by the title he'd earned almost a century before fighting against the forces of Eterna on the side of the undead. The Drakul was laid to rest, the legionnaire who'd come to this frozen, edge of the world to try and make a difference. Fate had a sense of humor. "Alucard."

"Etienne." It's blunt as he rises from where he's still sitting on the floor in favor of leaning against the doorway again. He's still thinking about the fangs, the idea that a bite can hurt or feel like....That woman certainly looked like she was experiencing euphoria. "Think I like 'wolf boy' better." He offers a light scoff, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. The dhampir comes off almost kind of socially awkward, formal in speech maybe, which feels right for someone in armor. Etienne can sympathize with that, he's spent months mostly talking to trees and Goose. "What about yours, fangs?" There's a bit of amusement there and he can only imagine what someone would name a dhampir. Surely his mother was the mortal? Did she give him some mundane name? Did both parents want to give him a normal life and name him 'John' or something? There's a lot of questions he has about the logistics of it all, but now didn't seem the time or place. No one wanted to be interrogated about their lineage, he knew that now.

[alucardrakul]

The only reason that Alucard's wolves listened to him was because they were spectres. Shadows conjured from the veil that clung to the shape of something familiar and trusted. Some unknown exchange seemed to happen between the man and the wolf before the creature was off and heading away to leave the two alone. Alucard contained his interest, in Veilcrest they subjugated the greenblooded, but these two were friends.

"I'm sure she'll be back, she'll want what she's owed." There were a number of refugees amid the Keep, and while it'd be easy enough to follow the scent of the woman's blood after he'd just consumed so much of it.

"It can, if I want it to." Alucard thought about the potency of the blight in his fangs, the venom that coursed through him even now. It wasn't useless against a darkspawn, but it wasn't as effective as one who wasn't possessed of the blight. "It can also have the opposite effect, which is why-" For a brief second he thought about the state the woman had been in before she walked off, the lacquer that fell between her thighs, and the interruption that the man had caused. "Doesn't matter now, do you have a name, wolf-boy?"

Etienne's brows raised and he let out a low whistle in response. The tension in the air between them has dissipated considerably with the correction but there's still this thing sitting in his gut. Turning his attention away from the dhampir, he glances to where Goose is pacing in the hall and he crouches down, sliding down the wall til he's on his haunches and looking at the direwolf who gives him the look. The one that suggests he fully knows he's about to be involved in something he doesn't want to do. "Can you go find her?" He asks out loud, wanting the dark haired man to know what they were up to. It's partially an apology, too, to both the man and woman he'd interrupted. 'Danger and errands?' The direwolf offers an annoyed chuff and they sit there for a few seconds as he seems to decide. 'He could help us.' Is Etienne's silent response, followed by a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders that's far too casual for someone suggesting they hang around anything vampiric. But the direwolf nudges his snout to his knee before he's trotting off back down the hall, leaving Etienne and the dhampir alone again. Blue eyes seek out startling red as he looks up at him from where he's still crouched in the doorway. Back straight against the doorway and wrists resting on his knees, he cocks his head curiously. "Does it hurt?" He thought about the woman and how her head had been thrown back and body flush to the dhampir's and he has to stave off the blush that threatens his cheekbones. "The thirst."

[alucardrakul]

There wasn't much to do in this Keep. It was cold, isolated, and inhospitable. Alucard had been here for years, befriended by an idol that was more meat than person. Idly the dhampir wondered what Riandur would say in this situation, the other legionnaire always had some sharp quip or charming remark regardless of whatever situation he was in. Alucard wished he was like that, instead, everything he had to say was generally delivered in the same deadpan cadence that didn't exactly sing in the ears of the receiver.

He cleared his throat. "Dhampir." Alucard corrected. "If I were a vampire you and your wolf would be dead already." He paused for just a moment, "Likely that woman as well." Social situations weren't where the dhampir excelled, especially when the narrative was something that only bespoke of violence. Would that every problem could be solved with the curve of his sword and the well-placed, wanting thrust.

"She'll be fine, better when I find her and give her what I owe her." She hadn't been made into a thrall, Etienne had interrupted before Alucard could offer himself to the woman - but for the moment his appetite was satiated. His venom coursed through her veins, "I've no doubt that she's in no discomfort right now." Quite the opposite, so long as Alucard remained in her system.

Oh. Oh. The armor gets to work settling on the vampire's form and the man was right, the woman had been very smart indeed. Part of the Legion, this wasn't just someone who was good with a sword, this was someone who was incredibly skilled. Someone who would be a great ally on account of the picture he'd painted right then and there. Saying the coming weeks would be arduous was an understatement, it'd be brutal for those that weren't used to traversing the more rural parts of Iskaldrik. Hell, it'd been hard for him and he grew up with his father having him meander all around the forest's surrounding the Lowlands, with trips and errands that had him surveying places further off. Etienne couldn't imagine what the trek was like for a mortal.

Still, he takes this new information and offers a nod of understanding. "You're a vampire then." It's not a question, it all kind of seemed rhetorical considering the circumstances. "Will she be alright?" There's the mildest thrill of....He can't decide if it's uncertainty or excitement in his gut but his eyes don't show it. Fear maybe, intrigue now that he can see the man's face without all of the blood on it. Wasn't that a thing about vampires? They were supposed to alluring and the dark haired man is more than a little easy on the eyes but he doesn't allow himself to think on that any further. "Will you be alright?"

[alucardrakul]

Not content to wander the Keep in casual wear, the standard black armor of the Legion drifted towards him now, seemingly fastening itself to the dhampir's person before his embroidered cloak was draped across his shoulders. At last, his feet touched the ground again as he looked slightly up towards the creature that was pale enough to be a vampire.

Again Alucard appraised the man, his haunted eyes and the distant look that lingered about the pools of blue iris. The dhampir had a curiosity where Iskaldrik was concerned, in Lysara there were always stories, they'd persisted for longer than the century that Alucard had walked this realm. All that aside, the people that had conquered them were of greater interest. It was hard to spit without striking someone who resented that which they did not understand: magic. But a lost civilization returning as conquerors? He couldn't help but wonder if his own people were involved somehow.

"No, we didn't finish the transaction." Somewhere in the Keep was a woman whose exchange was not finished, she'd given, but had only received a portion of what Alucard had promised her. "I'd need to feed her my blood to turn her into a thrall: stronger, faster, more resilient. The days ahead will be arduous, she'd been smart to come to me." Now the dhampir would have to go find the woman lest she think that Alucard had simply been using her for her neck. "Until we were interrupted."

"Cut off a wolf's head, and it still has the power to bite." It sounds like something his father would say, a warning before they headed into the wood for the day. Inhaling hurts for a second but he doesn't have any time to think about it, his attention is on the sword as it seems to sheathe itself. The tension in the air dissipates but with terror gone, the fascination of earlier still remains. Not only is watching everything sort of spring to the man more than a little interesting, but his description of what he'd walked in on was something to chew on. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest, he quirk's a brow. "That all it take?" Some blood for the protection of someone that could that, the woman was smart. It hadn't quite looked like it had even hurt, in fact she'd looked like she was almost enjoying herself too much. The assessment upon recollection has Etienne glancing away from whatever the hell the other man was. Vampire surely, there were other ones he thought, but fangs were fangs, and he knew now that they were deadly in the mouths of even people who didn't quite know how to use them. The way this man carried himself, the work with the sword, he knew how to use them.

[alucardrakul]

It wasn't hard to find discomfort in the face of a man who had a sword at his throat, but these Iskarans were historically stubborn. Unyielding was the word some used, but something told Alucard that this one wasn't afraid to bend when pressed. Just the same, their current situation was built upon Alucard's snap retaliation, short temperament, and shame over what he'd given in to. Control was difficult for any member of the vampiric race, Alucard only wished to say he was above it. Clearly that wasn't the case.

Wrong place. Wrong time. That's all this has been. Alucard's shame was his own, he didn't need to burden this stranger with it. Growing up the dhampir had never had any companions save for the animals he called forth from the shadows, wolves, not unlike what had consigned himself to the man in front of him. How nice it must be to have been chosen by such a noble creature, Alucard found he was envious, but he wouldn't say as much outloud.

"Cut off a wolf's head, and it still has the power to bite." Alucard's blade lifted slightly as the dhampir lifted his wrist before he moved his hand in a simple gesture to sheath the weapon back in its holster. Alucard appeared to visibly relax to some degree, though tension remained written in an ever present font across a creased brow, Alucard no longer appeared hostile towards the intruder.

From the corner a rag moved to his hand as he brought it over his lips before he brushed what he could of the blood off his chest. It was no use, but it would do for now as he shrugged his shirt back over his shoulders - the buttons seemingly fastening themselves as he settled into his shame and opted to spare the man in front of him some vestige of truth. Red eyes looked from the wolf to the boy and noted the shared scent between them, they had been traveling together for so long. Dogs made loyal companions, this was known. "You shouldn't have seen that..." Alucard's embarrassment made him feel as though he should explain himself. "That woman and I have an agreement, her blood for my protection." That euphoric sentiment she'd been expressing from between her thighs was only a byproduct of his venom's biology.

There's a low growl and Etienne doesn't have to look to know it's Goose and it's a small comfort that he's come to his aid. He's too focused on the other end of the blade and the brief sinking feeling that this could go south. His fingers twitch at his sides, ready to take a chance, but he can't. Even if they're alone, there's too many people around and that sword has no hand on it. His heartbeat quickened before he took a breath and tried to think about the whole thing rationally despite instinct telling him to either fight or flee. Magic is something he's made peace with, it's not bad nor good, depended on who wielded it. His sister, his stepfather, they had it and yet he's never seen it up so close before. He doesn't know if he's fascinated or terrified considering the circumstance. Swallowing, the tip of the blade sharper against his throat for just a second as he does so, he keeps a steady gaze on a face still covered in blood. "We don't want any trouble." It's an all encompassing statement but it's then that he spares a glance to his snarling companion. It's not the first time he's seen the wolf like this, teeth bared, body low, and muscles tense but it's still a startling reminder that he's not traveling with a dog. That he himself is something akin to that. "You don't want any trouble." Etienne points out and it's maybe bold but he does nod the slightest bit to indicate all of the blood. Doing so causes the blade to tip nearly nick him and that feels bold, too. At his feet Goose gives a quick snap of his jaws but doesn't spring forward and Etienne's twitching fingers of his left hand towards him. It's a silent plea, one they're familiar with from their time in the forest. 'He's dangerous.' The growl goes to a low, almost petulant grumble as his companion stalks back into the hall, leaving him with the man. Etienne doesn't respond to Goose's very fair and valid statement, he knows.

[alucardrakul]

Aggression came with the territory. No predator took kindly to being interrupted when they were in the middle of feeding, let alone one that was drowning in the broken temperance he'd been building for weeks now. Idly the dhampir wondered what the other must think of him, how the man who'd interrupted the legionnaire's meal must assume that he was incapable of controlling himself. Or perhaps he thought that this had been some sort of attempt at seduction - Alucard had seen it a thousand times before in his father's castle, lines of people with their necks bent and their legs spread. That's not what this had been, the arrangement was mutual, but Alucard hadn't been tracing any release from it except for a brief escape from the hunger he'd been battling for years.

"Comes with the territory." Alucard's eyes flashed as if to prove the point, but his blade did not move from the other's throat. There was a wolf growling and baring it's teeth, clearly a companion of the man at the end of Alucard's blade. Internally Alucard considered how easy it would be to dispatch the one and feast upon the other, to make a meal out of soft skin and a rampant heart but that was the residual urges of the hunger that dwelled in the dead, beatless organ beneath his breast. Killing refugees was distasteful, and harming an intelligent beast like the wolf outside of necessary circumstances was beneath him.

"Call off your wolf." It's not a request and nothing about the legionnaire's phrasing indicates at much. Alucard remained in the air, hovering over the Iskaran with his blade gripped by virtue of his telekinesis, holding it to the man's throat and tilting his chin without ever laying a finger on it. For now the beast likely wouldn't attack, but Alucard did not trust the hungry wolf not to try and take off an arm - incensed by the smell of blood

The Keep is full of sounds of people, wind moving through old stone and boards, there's so much noise. It makes it hard to sit still, at least the sounds of the forest never sounded anything but comforting to him. He's antsy now, he wants to keep moving, he'd find a way to Lysara himself if he had to, slip out under the cover of night and-

"Don't be stupid." Goose, despite the fact they could communicate with one another, didn't often give things a verbal response, but the chiding sentence is enough. They both know that the way forward isn't safe, not on their own. Sitting tight is what is going to save them, making friends, finding people to travel with. There's this voice in the back of his head always telling him that he's alone, that wolves are pack animals, that he's doing this all wrong. So more often than not, when the noise gets to be too much, he explores, leaving Goose to his own devices.

The smell of blood hits his nose in a hallway and Etienne's eyes narrow. Curious more than afraid, he moves toward it only to come upon-He blinks twice, he's not entirely sure what he's seeing. A young woman with her head thrown back and a raven haired man with his teeth at her throat.

For a second he thinks he is simply intruding on a private moment and pink blossoms across his cheekbones but he can still smell the blood and then they're taking notice of him and the moment the woman is brushing past him, he puts two and two together. A private moment indeed, between a woman and something wholly unnatural. There wasn't any time to feel any way about it, for when he looks back to the dark haired man, he's plucking a sword from the scabbard at his side.

Etienne gets a better look at him like this, chin raised defiantly over the blade. There's a growl sitting there right in his chest, his muscles tense and fingers itching for the hand axe strapped to his belt, covered by the length of his coat. But he doesn't go for it, bright blue meet startling red. "I smelled the blood." Blood that the dark haired man is still covered in. Vampire or something of the sort, he's never met one, not that he knows of. They're not something he wants to fight, werewolf strength and instincts be dammed and so he stands there in the doorway, perfectly still looking into eyes that could have been garnets.