nekolatte - Tumblr blog

[nekolatte]

[nekolatte]

Chapter 5: Door

Preview: And– and having Dante nearby was better than waking up alone.

No dreams came to visit as deep-sleep eluded him on snow-white wings. Leon was half-conscious to everything around him– to the squeak of an overhead fan and the rustle of gossamer curtains. The mattress below him was too plush, like a present threat ready to swallow him whole and bake him in the heat of a heavy comforter. He wanted to voice his displeasure– that the couch in the office downstairs had been far less suffocating than this heavily-perfumed room. That Dante’s coat was all he really needed to feel comfortable. But Leon’s tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and every time he even tried to open his eyes, he could feel a cool, damp cloth brush over the lids. They felt hot; his whole body felt hot. Two hot grapes shoved into his skull, and wasn’t that just a vivid mental image.

God, he really hoped he didn’t have two hot grapes for eyes now.

But he couldn’t check, not when limbs felt heavy and his consciousness was fluttering unpredictably in the wind. Is this what Dante had mentioned before? What had he said– ‘flu-like symptoms’? It set in fast; he hadn’t felt it creep up on him while in the shower or any of the time before. Maybe Dante had done something to him, in that half-second Leon felt himself drift before startling back into this uncooperative, unresponsive body.

Leon could feel himself panic without any direction to tunnel his newly-acquired adrenaline into. He was breathing too fast and he couldn’t stop himself– why did he feel so hot?

A firm, heavy pressure pressed into his chest, cutting off some of his air and forcing Leon to take slower breaths or face suffocation. He didn’t appreciate it, whatever it was, but it was effective, and when it took to rubbing with that same exact pressure– well, his brain kind of fizzled out. He was static save for one focal point, and he mentally-clung to it like the lifeline it was. Though Leon wasn’t moving, he felt like he was being rocked back and forth on a small boat out in open sea, but it wasn’t the harrowing situation it should’ve been. With nothing around for miles, no obligations or expectations, Leon could just exist. Exist in that rocking boat, mind half-mush while staring out into a dark, night sky splattered with too many pinprick stars. The waves lapping against the side of his boat told him to go to sleep so he did.

When he finally hauled himself out of his exhaustion, it was to more darkness. The comforter he remembered dragging up over himself (and regretting later) was replaced with a thin blanket that still smelled of whatever storage it had recently been unearthed from. He had to feel his way out of the massive bed, and nearly stumbled off the edge when his hand braced up against nothing. That would’ve been just what he needed, cracking his head open again to kill what little brain his fever hadn’t finished off. 

Instead he managed to slide out like some confused snake coming out of hibernation, thankful that no one was around to watch his pathetic performance. It took him a few seconds to remember the layout of the room– the direction of the door and head for it on trembling bambi-legs. Sweat clung to his forehead, and the stitches near his shoulder were pulling taunt against skin, still he needed to know what he had missed while he was unconscious. Leon couldn't sit idle, not for a second. This was why he was always released early from any mandated hospital stays– unless they tied him to the bed, he was known to wander.

Walking out, the remaining doors in the short hallway looked as inviting as an open bear trap so he ignored them in favor of the balcony overlooking the bottom floor. Dusk was starting to settle outside and cast every piece of dingy furniture in heavy shadow, the jukebox being the only real light to see clearly by, and what it revealed was Dante’s absence. There was no noise save for the ticktock of an old clock, so unless Dante was taking a nap somewhere unseen, Leon had been left entirely alone.

He could make a break for it.

Another glance back, as if Dante could be summoned by thought alone, made Leon's heart jump uncomfortably. There were as many reasons for him to leave as there were to stay, but the more he thought about the latter half as he made his way down the stairs, the more he realized how contrived they sounded. Had he told anyone in his acquaintance that he was staying in the living space of a man who threatened him because said man told him it was a very bad idea if he left, they would’ve looked at him like he got the whole Misery treatment and needed some therapy fast. But it nagged at him– were his symptoms just a regular-old infection, or did he catch something else from that monster? Was it transmittable? What would happen if someone else caught it– what was going to happen to him?

More answers should've been wrangled out of Dante; Leon shouldn’t have been so willing to roll over and play nice no matter the circumstances. Leon cursed under his breath as he lost his footing when his leg gave out– and, yeah, he definitely pulled a stitch, but it was a pain he could handle. It cleared some of the fog in his head, at any rate, and led him right to the front door where his indecision didn't have time to convince him firmly to stay.

Because the door refusing to budge made the decision for him. There was no lock to turn, but the heavy-set doors were definitely locked, meaning he needed a key– would a person like Dante have a spare? He seemed like the type to use the spare until he lost that too. 

Leon had to find another way out. The only other direction to head in was the swinging door he was sure led to a kitchen, so he set off to investigate but not before pausing at the desk to rifle through the drawers for his gun, at the very least. Takeout menus, plastic utensils, pens, magazines– random items usually found in junk drawers and nothing remotely useful. Leon took one of the pens and hobbled his way through the swinging door.

It was definitely a kitchen, cramped to make space for a small table, an ancient washer and dryer that looked pulled out of a junkyard as-is, and an ominous door leading into what had to be the basement. It looked as uninviting as the rest of the home– office, whatever– but with no other door or window suggesting freedom, unless he started breaking shit, it was the only way to go. He’d take a peek, and if something truly horrifying was down there, then Leon would feel less guilty about smashing apart a window and fleeing with every intent of bringing back heavy artillery to this godforsaken town.

The door groaned and opened wide into a total abyss that had to lead straight into hell for all the foreboding Leon felt in his gut while staring down into it. He looked around for a lightswitch and found none, his every instinct telling him this was a stupid idea after all– but what if there was someone, like him, trapped down there? What if his ultimate fate was to end up in that dark hell? He had to know; fuck, it was a bad idea, but he had to know. So he pushed the door and kept it propped open with a chair dragged out from under the table. He still wished he had a light, but the kitchen light filtered some ways down so it would have to do. 

A deep breath later, and Leon started his way down. He kept close to the wall, a palm braced upon it while being mindful of his every creaking step. The wooden boards looked ready to give out, curled and splintered at the ends from water damage and age, but the area didn't appear completely forgotten or abandoned.

On the landing, where the stairs turned deeper into the abyss, he could hear an unremarkable scratching sound as it echoed just a few feet below. It sounded like metal grinding against metal, though not in a frantic way one might assume from a victim locked in some creeper’s dungeon, but an almost-inviting, playful sound.

“...Not today, pal.” And Leon hightailed it back up, faster than should be recommended to someone with his condition. Not a moment too late, because he knows he heard low, rough laughter through the pounding blood vessels in his ears, and some garbled, overlapping mess that sounded an awful lot like ‘Run back to Sparda’s boy’.

Okay, so Dante has a cult in his basement– would explain the monsters and the weird vibes surrounding the house and its inhabitants. He had to leave, no doubt about it. Didn’t matter that Dante was nice and a bit charming, most psychopaths were, right? He’d rather be quarantined in a place he knew was shady as shit than one he didn’t, if what he had wasn’t a garden-variety infection. That’d be dealt with later, or maybe not at all if he could lay low for a few days and see if he turned into some horrible monster. 

Leon went to the front door, in his haste forgetting that he already tried it and failed. Forgetting more when it swung open at the slightest of tugs and was startled to find Dante staring back at him.

Dante looked equally startled, though it didn’t last long because then Dante started to look mad and Leon couldn’t think anymore. He felt like a cornered animal, ready to gnaw his own leg off for a chance at freedom, and the thing in his hand felt as good of a weapon as any. He lifted it, tight in his fist, and brought it crashing down right into Dante’s chest: above his sternum and a little ways below his throat.

There was a moment when they both stood there, just staring down at the pen lodged firmly into Dante. Shock was what kept them both from reacting, but Dante was far quicker to recover.

“...Okay, I think we need to set some ground rules–”

Leon wasn’t squeamish by any means, even if there was something not quite right about how nonchalant Dante was about the stabbing, and definitely how he seemed indifferent to the way the pen bobbed up and down as he spoke. No, Leon turned and puked into the potted plant by the door because his stomach was in knots and everything was at a weird angle. He didn’t even notice he was being lifted up, completely disconnected from his legs and arms. They swung limply as Dante carried him to the couch, Leon belatedly noting the pen was gone as he was set down into the cushions– no wound left behind. 

Had he imagined it, the resistance of sinking something dull into something hard and the sound it produced?

“Am I going insane?”

“No, but you’re driving me there.” Though he was concealing it, Dante sounded as furious as he looked just moments ago, as if attempting to spare Leon of his foul mood. 

And why would he, when Leon went from being the complacent kidnapping victim to an uncooperative headache? This would be the perfect time to toss him down into the basement for whatever was lurking down there, instead he left Leon with his hands and legs unbound as if he were harmless. Maybe Leon was– sniffling and wobbling and puking at every opportunity. This was a low point, he didn’t know how further he could go.

“What do you have in your basement?”

He’d try to find it, though.

Dante’s head shot up at that, having fallen into open palms while he muttered to himself. That anger was back with something else mixed in– a sense of urgency, like a bomb about to go off. He was on Leon in an instant, though skipped strangling his neck entirely and started patting him down. 

“You went down there? Did you open the vault?” Dante found the torn stitching and hissed along with Leon as the wound was further aggravated and flowed freely. “Did they do this to you?”

If a tone could kill, Dante would’ve murdered. But despite it all– despite knowing any captor-captive trust was shattered and Dante had little reason to pretend to be innocuous to keep Leon in line, Leon didn’t feel threatened in the moment. He should, but maybe it was the brain-fog keeping him placid. Or, maybe, it was the way Dante looked absolutely wrecked: brows furrowed and mouth a tight, thin line. The meticulous way he rolled up gauze and slid it under Leon’s shirt to soak up the worst of it, or the firm pressure applied just shy of being genuinely painful. 

Maybe, just a bit, Leon regretted being the reason Dante looked miserable. If this guy was acting, he was good. And Leon was tired. He wasn't on that uncomfortable bed anymore, and the light coming from the jukebox was better than complete blackness. And– and having Dante nearby was better than waking up alone.

“Okay,” Dante sighed, and Leon paid attention the best he could. The palm on his shoulder moved a bit, though it didn’t pin Leon in place. It felt more like a reassuring squeeze, and as if that wasn’t enough for Dante, his other hand came up to brush back Leon’s sweat-soaked fringe. Leon's exhaustion came back with that one, single caress, and fleeing towards freedom was the last thing he wanted to do at this moment. “Promise me you won’t pull a crazy stunt like that again, and… and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

Leon stared through the clouds in his eyes– through the vignette closing in around him, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. What the hell had compelled him to act so irrationally again? Oh, right. He needed to know things. It made him get out the bed, head for the door, down into the basement. He needed to know what kind of threat Dante was, not just to himself but to others. So he nods, even if it makes his head swim and his temples ache, and doesn’t flinch in the slightest when Dante pulls out a gun– his gun and pops open the magazine. Half-full, the other half discharged into the creature he first met when wandering the city. And snaps it back into place before Dante places it oh-so deliberately on the coffee table within arm’s reach.

“Consider this an olive branch. Get some sleep while I make dinner.”

Leon can’t follow him with his eyes as Dante gravitates towards the front doors, though he does hear the rustle of plastic bags and the click of a lock before he appears again in Leon’s blurring line of sight. He’s gone without a look back, and that makes something unpleasant sink into Leon’s chest. He sighs deep to get rid of it, simply finds it painful and nowhere close to dislodging, and he turns his head towards the cushions.

It's weird, how Leon instinctively reached down as if he'd find Dante's coat there, ready for his own personal use– how much he expected it, when deposited on the couch instead of upstairs. He felt chastised, kicked out to the doghouse for poor behavior. He was so confused, with his training telling him to react one way and instincts another.

The mind games were wearing on him, and Leon couldn't wait until after dinner to get his answers. It took effort to peel himself off the couch and hobble toward the kitchen door, gun in hand. To stand tall and proud as if he hadn't just embarrassed himself moments ago.

All for naught, because Dante wasn't there but he could hear voices float up from the basement. He snuck closer to hear better, catching the middle of the conversation.

'–like rats in the walls. Should you allow me outside–'

"Out of the question. I'll keep him safe, you make sure everyone else stays in line."

'Would it not be simpler to dispose–'

"Again, no. He's mine–"

A chuckle, almost twice as menacing as the one Leon had been subjected to, but Dante sighed like it was the worst joke he heard. What sounded like a fist hitting metal made the chuckling stop.

"Do your part. I'll figure this out."

'Best you go; your mate is looking for you.'

"My what–? Leon!"

Shit. No point pretending, so he sat down at the table and melted into it, carefully rubbing at his shoulder while he waited for Dante. He expected the other person to come up with him– but he came up alone and looked annoyed.

"I'm not used to being on the receiving end of this behavior. You promised–"

"I just nodded. Never promised anything."

Dante’s jaw ticked, but he conceded with a sigh. He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over Leon's shoulders, sleeves rolled further up his arms. From the bags left abandoned on the counter, Dante pulled out a sealed bottle of aspirin and water and set it in front of Leon.

"Your fever's too high. You haven't eaten. Had to force you to drink every few hours. You should be in bed."

Leon set the gun down on the table and struggled with the child safety lock before Dante took the bottle and opened it for him. The water too, all where he could see. It was Leon's turn to sigh.

"Sorry." And he meant it. "Is this what you mentioned before, the symptoms?"

"Yeah. So," Dante paused, watching. Waiting. 

Leon took the hint, took his medication, downed half the water, and was tempted to open his mouth to prove he swallowed. Thankfully the flush on ears and nose could be explained away with his fever as his thoughts wandered somewhere unwanted. He blamed it on the way Dante sat, like some barbarian king putting everything on display.

"Demons? They're real."

A pause, a long pause, and it was after a few seconds that Leon realized that Dante was waiting for his reaction. 

"Oh, you're serious?"

[nekolatte]

Rain beat a steady staccato against his windowー the fresh scent of clean air and damp earth filtering through the cracks of his termite-bitten windowsill to reach his sharp nose. It cleared out the smell of cheap tobacco and old sweat by small bits, tempting Bigby to give in and force the window open to get the funk out of his apartment.

Though his motivation to do much of anything else stopped there, and he dropped back into his chair to slowly work through his last cigarette. There wasn't much to do now concerning any sheriff work, and he knew everyone would be more relaxed if he wasn't hanging around the office floor, no matter his good intentions.

They still looked at him like a thing made of teeth and savagery, no one capable of looking him in the eye for long, if at all. Not even Snow, for all she tried to still be amicable and professional. He could see the fearー smell it like thick traffic congestion, and Bigby couldn't understand why it hurt now. He was the Big Bad Wolf and was used to being feared, but maybe he thought things would turn out differently when he brought in the Crooked Man.

Maybe, pathetically, he thought they might consider him a hero this time.

Until he fucked it all up.

Bigby sighed and snubbed the smoldering filter into the full ashtray at his side, hunkered down, and prepared himself for another long night.

[nekolatte]

All Smiles Here. — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/zMhObt6

[nekolatte]

Chapter 7: Two Back

Preview: Trevor sighed and wished he was drunker for this conversation. “Even if all I manage to do is get the lot of you killed?” “You saved far more of us yesterday than had you not intervened at all.”

“And here I stayed awake all night, stricken with grief.”

The words barely registered through the haze of sleep, understood more as a slurry of sound to Trevor as he attempted to claw his way up into consciousness. Small details of his surroundings began forming, settling into place to paint a picture. He was outside, after running from Dracula's horde. On the floor and in pain, because he fought with Alucard. The man in question still fast asleep, despite being the lighter sleeper of the group, because he had been close to dying and still refused the one thing that might helpー

Trevor started violently, shooting up with eyes wide but glazed over, arms around the limp body resting on himー ignoring the surprised sound at his side to blindly search for a pulse. He found it after jabbing fingers against the vulnerable skin of Alucard's throat, the rhythm sluggish but there and hating that he didn't know if this was normal for a half-breed. Maybe that's why he was always so pale.

Guiding the vampire down onto his lap, easily rearranged into a more comfortable position despite the dead-weight, Trevor scrubbed the last bits of sleep from bruised eyes while his heart got back under control only to skyrocket when he remembered Syphaー

"Thank you for finally remembering about me." Wide eyes turned to find the mage in question watching him with a bland smile. Trevor was no coward, but he may have wilted under her sharp gaze a bit. "My night went by fantastically, though not as well as yours, I imagine."

Sypha pointedly looked at the body in his lap, and before Trevor looked too he noticed the red of her eyes, the smearing of dirt on her cheeks. Her heavy slouch from where she crouched next to them and the tightness of her body language. It eased a bit, when she reached out and brushed Alucard's hair out of his face to feel the slight puff of air from his breathing.

Then Trevor noticed the protective arm he had thrown over the man's chest, the other cradling his head and… just decided to leave them. Sypha already saw, already made her assumptions. Trevor was too exhausted to make sense of it himself right now.

"I'm sorry." His voice sounded rougher than after spending a whole night binge-drinking cheap-shelf spirits, and his mouth tasted the same. Every inch of him hurt, a headache forming that was making it hard to see. He just wanted to drape himself over Alucard and sleep but he owed Sypha a proper apology.

She didn't lift her hand from brushing back Alucard’s hair, but caught Trevor in the corner of an eye. There was still pain there, a vengeful accusation that she wasn't going to bring up just yet, so Trevor continued.

"I should've tried harder to get back to you, I promised you I would. You were injured and I sent you off on your own, with God knows what going through your head. Knowing you needed help, that you'd be waiting. I shouldー there was so much more I could have done. I shouldn't have set those villagers at the front lineー I should've pulled them back, set up a barrier. Or used the silos to guard our back instead ofー"

Sypha threw herself at him and cut off any rambling that might have followed. She hugged Trevor around the shoulders, clung as if he were about to send her off on her own again. A spot of wetness soaked through the collar of his tunic to reach skin. He drew an arm from around Alucard to wrap it around Sypha instead and crushed her to his side with what strength he was regaining.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, with Alucard softly snoring between them, Trevor sinking into the warm comfort of finding each of them safe, relatively speaking. Neither he nor Sypha willing to break the peace, though they couldn’t stay there forever. It was Sypha who pulled away first and put herself together after a huff and a rapid blink of lashes.

"You two are alive, and that is what matters now." She dusted at her ruined robes, torn and bloody, before reaching down to grab Alucard's wrists. "We need to move on."

Trevor could only nod and help her get Alucard’s limp body up, maneuvering awkwardly until the vampire was draped over Trevor's back, Sypha following close behind to keep them both steady. She guided the way through the forest, the horses closer than he remembered them being, and he questioned her with a small frown.

"I had to come looking!" She defended herself with a glare and said nothing else as she unlatched the backdoor of the carriage and two pairs of eyes peeked warily from under the heavy tarp. "Oh, this is Milo and Daria. Ilinca is in the frontー they were, um... We all escaped together."

Out of what was likely a hundred or so villagers, now there were only three. Trevor tried not to let the horror of it show on his face as Sypha shooed the children back so Trevor could set Alucard down. Without prompting, the mage climbed in right behind and tried to get him settled comfortably on the wooden bed, wasting no time to inspect his injuries.

That left Trevor to drive, then.

He walked around and tried to ignore the stare of an ancient woman who was not impressed by what she saw, as if silently blaming Trevor for not being able to save her village. Too exhausted to care, he climbed into the seat and got the horses going with a sharp click of his tongue and a whip of the reins. They trotted obediently, strong creatures that didn’t seem phased in the slightest about the horrors that took place the night before. He waited until they were back on the road that would lead them further into Wallachia, before they took such a disastrous detour, to call Sypha for a heading. She scooted closer, and Trevor risked a glance back to find Alucard under the cover of one of the horse blankets while the children watched him. 

“Ilinca told me a sister of hers lives in a city not too far from here. If they have managed to withstand Dracula's hordes, her and the children will be safe there.”

Trevor caught what was unsaid, that they needed to find a safe place for their charges first and foremost before dealing with their own problems. He didn’t like itー didn’t like the deep-sleep state Alucard was in. Hibernation , like the first time they encountered him in that coffin under Gresit. Except this hadn’t been some demonic vampire lord that felled his only child but some random demon that got lucky. He cursed under his breath and quickly apologized when the old crone gave him a scalding look, muttering darkly to himself about how he anticipated the ride to be long.

Sypha had fallen asleep sometime around noon, the children followed closelyー huddled and clinging to her robes as if she was the last of their innocence they were desperate to keep. And Alucard hadn’t stirred once.

It was just him and the crone, both seemingly content with the silence. Hardly amicable, but it didn’t weighー they were two people, sharing space for as long as it took them to get where they needed to go. He didn’t anticipate making any conversation, but was pleasantly surprised when a drink of something strong was placed right under his nose. He took the gourd, gave the old woman a bewildering look, but as she didn’t deem him worthy of a glance, Trevor shrugged his shoulders and sipped. 

Strong and spiced, earthy. Delicious with the right kick in the sack to banish the lingering exhaustion in his eyes. He stared down at it once again before handing it back.

“What the hell is that?”

“Tonic of my own making.” She didn’t sound like Trevor expected her toー her voice was sweet, gentle. A cool caress across a fevered forehead. “I used to make it for the farmers, during the early grain harvest. This was the last of it, before the monsters showed.”

And of course all topics had to return back to the horde, to how Trevor failed spectacularly.

“I’m sorry.” Trevor already apologized once today; he might as well just keep on going. He was sorry for allowing the village to fall, for not saving as many people as he could. For allowing his companions to come to harm, for letting them down. For not being better, faster, stronger . He was sorry for not being worth the holy blade that took the rest of his family, forced to be the last Belmont. A useless, pathetic drunk, playing at hero when he would rather lose himself in drink and die in a ditch somewhere for the wolves to feed on. “I am truly sorry.”

Trevor expected nothing in return for the emotion he poured into the single word, but what he didn’t anticipate was for a hard smack to the shoulder. He reasoned that the only reason it hurt was because he was still recuperating from last night, and not because the old crone still had strength in her withered limbs. 

“What the hell.” He snarled, ready to pull at the horses so he could drop the woman off on the side of the road and leave her to fend for herself. Or at least fantasize about it for all of a glorious second, knowing he would never be able to bring himself to do it.

“Did I ask for an apology?” Ilinca retorted without even half the venom Trevor had for her, and he felt a trickle of shame slipping down his spine at it.

Trevor shrugged a shoulder and turned back to the road for something to focus on instead of the heavy weight of the old woman’s stare. They settled into silence for only a few moments before she deemed him calm enough to continue.

“I did not say that to remind you of perceived failures but that you may remember the people you fought for. I don’t have much time in this world, and I have my own doubts about how useful I can be to two children who have lost all they’ve known and must struggle in the cruel world to come. They may never remember their old home, may not wish to, but I don’t want their parents, their relatives, friends and neighbors to be forgotten. Another tally of victims that fell to dark creatures that slaughtered for no reason at all.” A bony hand settled on his arm and squeezed around the vambrace.

“Remember my people, young man. Continue fighting for those who cannot.”

Trevor sighed and wished he was drunker for this conversation. “Even if all I manage to do is get the lot of you killed?”

“You saved far more of us yesterday than had you not intervened at all.” 

Said with such certainty that Trevor had to agree. Would it have been better if they kept going, never to have known the names of Ilinca, Daria and Milo? The more dominant part of his mind thought 'of course' , the part that was twisted with grief and distrust, but he knew it to be false. It would’ve hurt more knowing he could’ve saved someonerather than none at all due to inaction.

He was a Belmont, and despite the struggles and sorrow that awaited him, he had to keep fighting. It was his family’s creed, all he had to live up to now.

“Okay,” was all he could manage to say and was offered the gourd once more. Trevor drank from it greedily and somehow managed not to get sloppy drunk by the time the sun started to set.

The traveling group managed to reach the city just as it started to draw up its bridge for the night, Trevor having traded places with Sypha and the children so the guards at post would be more willing to allow them through. The horses were bitter at the long journey they were forced to endure, and refused to be tended to once the group found a stable to settle them in. 

Not wanting to neglect this duty, and a more major part being that Alucard was still in deep sleep within the covered carriage, Trevor volunteered to stay behind to tend to the horses and keep an eye on Alucard while Sypha and Ilinca took the children to find Ilinca’s sister.

From within the corral stationed at the edge of the city walls, Trevor took notice of the flurry of activity despite the dimming hour. There were many soldiers present, more than Trevor thought a city of this size could hold, though a trained eye told him that not all were seasoned in the professionー many young, and even some women disguised among the ranks. They rushed people home, snuffed out any and every flame they came across. By the light of the heavy moon above, they went around and doused buildings with buckets of water pulled from large basins carted by strong, hefty horses.

It took him a few moments to realize it was holy water.

It took him a bit longer to realize one of the cart’s paths led straight to where Alucard currently slept. The tarp was meant to be waterproof, he knew, but his heart clenched painfully, and he leapt into action all the same. At this point of their travels, Trevor really should’ve known if Alucard was in any danger, should know more about his acquaintances than their names, but he didn’t. He didn’t and now he was forced to act irrationally, compulsively, climbing into the back of the cart with his back towards the roadー Alucard shielded with Trevor’s own body as best he could manage.

Those tense, few moments of water crashing against the side, over the top, gliding down in invisible rivulets, lasted far too long. Trevor’s heart hammered with adrenaline, though with no means to shake it loose from his system he started to tremble from the force of it. Made to wait until the soldiers marched on and nothing happened, immediately feeling ridiculous though thankful no one was around to see him overreact.

Trevor was ready to return to the horses when the minuscule sound of a droplet falling caught his trained ear and a sharp hiss of pain followed after. Trevor turned, expecting the worstー like Alucard’s face melting offー though was relieved in a way he didn’t think possible to see groggy eyes staring back at him from the dim. There was a glow to them Trevor never noticed before, didn’t care to notice, and was surprised when he failed to react the way he normally did when coming face-to-face with Alucard’s otherness.

Taking more caution to not appear like a damn fool, Trevor quietly approached at a more sedated pace, and sat at Alucard’s side. Trevor eyed him up and down, noting he hadn’t moved at all.

“Hey, still with us?”

A pause followed by a tense grunt was all the response he got in return. Trevor tried not to sigh but failed, knowing his disappointment was clear to see by the minuscule pinch of Alucard’s brow. 

“Still not going to let me help, are you?”

That pinch deepened just a bit, erased by shock of surprise when a droplet fell from above and sizzled on Alucard’s cheek. It stirred him further, and like a dead man rising from the grave, Alucard took great pains to sit up.

Trevor stayed silent, on his side of the carriage, another shot of adrenalineー to make him move, make him help, make him do somethingー made him shake and he clenched a fist tight to suppress it.

“Do I need to go hunt a couple of rats for you to chew on,” the words came out bitter, stinging his own tongue when unleashed. Though Trevor couldn’t stop himself and didn’t really want to. “Since my blood seems too inadequate for your refined palate?”

A sneer was reward for the question, lip raised to show off the fangs that Trevor hated so much. He was forced to sit there and watch Alucard wheeze in a deep breath for speech. “The smell will draw attention.”

Trevor scoffed, irritated in such a ferocious capacity that he couldn’t begin to understand, and turned away to climb out of the carriage without another word given. That small bit of camaraderie they reached the night before must have been left behind in the forest because there was none of it here. Trevor thought, probably stupidly, that they would put this idiotic game behind them and act like proper adults. But, apparently, he was the only one that thought it.

With a half-hearted wave over his shoulder, Trevor went back to the horses to sleep on a pile of hay and entirely missed the weak hand stretching out for him.

[nekolatte]

Chapter 4: Pursuit

Preview: Dante noted the color of his hair, the curve of his nose and set of his jaw― Leon was pretty, and more so when he turned red with embarrassment. “What do you want?” Dante blinked, not realizing immediately that question was for him― instead captive to the show of snarling teeth and an eye color that looked more green than blue under the dingy bathroom light. “To help you”

Oh, Dante was in trouble. 

Well, he was always in some form of trouble. Either with his landlord, his local government. Lady, Trish, the world in general. The demon world in generalー  

Pausing his increasingly derailing train of thought, Dante picked up a discarded shirt and moved on, both literally and mentally. 

Point was, he was having feelings. Soft, playful feelings like those first few weeks when Lady blushed and stuttered at every other innuendo out of Dante's mouth or when Trish would smirk and tease at his attempts to make her laugh. Flirting came second nature to Dante, but other than getting an amusing reaction from the other party, there wasn’t much else he gained from it. Contrary to his public persona, he wasn’t interested in getting laid with a revolving door of men, women and miscellaneous. 

Dante enjoyed the attention, not the intimacy.

But with Leon, some stranger he scraped up off the sidewalk and stitched back together? There was something there that Dante wanted to tentatively pursue, and the only person he ever actively pursued in his life was a brother he couldn’t confidently confirm was dead or alive at the moment. This was new and strange and Dante didn't want to stop despite the alarm bells ringing.

He tried telling himself that it was all in good fun, that even if he did get stupidly attached, Leon certainly wouldn't reciprocate. Wariness and hostility wafted off the man like the demon guts he had bathed in prior, and seemed oblivious that he gave off either stench. Dante wouldn’t be entranced forever at chasing after someone that wasn’t interestedー he may have been foolhardy but he wasn’t masochistic. Not entirely. Enjoying Lady’s company made him doubt that part of himself sometimes, but no. 

In any case, maybe Dante shouldn't have hinted at the threat during their first little talk, been more open and friendly to a human side-stepping into Hell’s door― it had just felt urgent that the man understand the circumstances he was suddenly in. Too late for it now.

Preferring to confront problems with a sword and gun, of which neither was good in this particular instance, Dante decided to just ignore everything and get Leon some pants.

He knocked on the bathroom door just to be polite and let himself in without bothering to wait for a response. Leon looked irritated, to put it mildly, but had nothing to say when Dante presented the clothing he found.

“What, no leather?” Leon quipped, though seemed to regret it immediately as he took a sudden and all-consuming focus in squeezing and flicking off every bit of water on his person. Probably would’ve kept on going if Dante didn’t toss a towel at him, even if it was amusing to watch a grown man sulk in a tub with a shower curtain wrapped around his waist.

“You can’t pull it off like I can.”

Leon grumbled something under his breath that even Dante couldn’t pick up, and yet Dante didn’t move from his comfortable lean against the vanity despite how obvious Leon was at dragging this whole ordeal out. He wasn’t going to ask for help, despite having it allowed it before, obviously waiting for Dante to take the hint and leave but Dante wasn’t going to take it. He really did want to help, plain and simple. 

Humans were so damn soft, so damn fragile. Dante left Leon alone for all of ten minutes and the guy nearly cracked his skull on the bathroom tile. Both too stubborn to concede, the minutes dragged like hours― Dante watching Leon for every second of it. Head tilted like a curious cat, he noted the color of his hair: darker, when wet, though the tips and the wispy hair that made up his fringe were starting to lighten already. The curve of his nose and set of his jaw, light stubble pushing through. Severe eyebrows at contrast with bow lips― Leon was pretty, and more so when he turned red with embarrassment.

“What do you want?”

Dante blinked, not realizing immediately that question was for him― instead captive to the show of snarling teeth and an eye color that looked more green than blue under the dingy bathroom light. He recovered quickly, though.

“To help you, what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.”

Something in Leon seemed to break, maybe his pride, because he slumped in place, face gone dark and pinched, and looked about ready to accept his death rather than a helping hand up. Dante frowned, the victory leaving a confused, bitter taste in his mouth, and failed to come up with a comment to lighten the mood.

All he could do was step forward at Leon’s quietly raised hand, ignoring it entirely to lean down into the tub and scoop the stubborn man right up. Since he was already feeling guilty over the whole debacle, not realizing how far he pushed Leon past his comfort zone, Dante went right ahead and took more liberties than given. 

Leon, worryingly, said nothing, though Dante found some quiet solace in the bright red of his ears that stuck out almost endearingly from flat hair. Clothes snagged on the way to Trish’s room proper, Dante cleared out a space for Leon on the bed before setting him down. The man in question did everything imaginable to avoid Dante’s line of sight, and Dante still felt too thrown off to do anything but respect the man’s privacy as best he could.

It involved a lot of looking to the side while going off muscle memory to bandage Leon up and help him into a shirt and sweats, a few pained hisses here and there, but the lack of communication was wearing. Dante wasn’t much for silence, especially when he was responsible for part of it. He still didn’t know what he did― the way he saw it, it was the same back and forth they had just a few minutes prior. Except, well, he was ogling a man that couldn’t get away from the unwanted attention, that was his implied prisoner. Offered to help when Leon obviously had issues with it.

That last part Dante didn’t understand.

Still, he didn’t want either of them to tiptoe around each other for however long Leon was forced to stay. Dante rubbed his forehead for just a few extra moments to collect himself before he got down to kneel between Leon’s parted legs, an attempt to be in his line of sight― feeling chastised despite Leon not having said a single word. He didn’t dare look up, didn’t want to know what face Leon was making because Dante knew his own was scrunched up with guilt and embarrassment. This was not a good look for him, and one he knew anyone in his immediate acquaintance would never let him live down.

“Listen, I know what this all seems like― I know you’re feeling cautious, and with good reason, but I really am just trying to help. You’re better off not knowing the things I know, and I just need you to trust me that I’ll tell you if that changes. This… It screws up people’s heads, makes day-to-day life just a little more harder to deal with. I don’t want to put you through that.” Dante dragged a hand through his hair and disrupted the slicked-back style so it fell back over his eyes.

Dante was forced to look through them when Leon made a noise that sounded like a question, catching a gaze that was focused on Dante and Dante alone. It felt different, something he could sink into, and a baser, more primal part of his mind wanted to nudge in those last few inches forward and rest his head on Leon’s knee. He reeled from it.

Leon rubbed at a shoulder, careful with the bruising under the borrowed t-shirt. “Why. That’s what I want to know. Providing first aid, giving me a place to recuperate, is one thing. Everything else is another. Making sure I’m not infected,” Leon flinched at the word, though didn’t seem to notice his own action, “doesn’t mean you have to… help me bathe.”

“Because I like you.” The answer came easily, far before his brain could catch up to his mouth after its earlier reprimand. He hadn’t meant to admit to it― they knew each other for three days, at best, and Leon was unconscious for most of it. 

But all Dante could think about was how Leon fought for survival against something that was far beyond his capabilities, refusing to back down despite having the opportunity to turn tail and run. The grit of his teeth and the glare of his eyes when cornered, bloodied but not broken. How he sunk into Dante’s arms as if he was a safe haven, a comfort against the quick torment Leon had been subjected to. The many hours Dante spent watching the man sleep, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest― listening to the steady beat of his heart and losing precious moments of peace when it stuttered. Wanting nothing more than the ability to make Leon better instead of his arsenal of slaughter and destruction.

Maybe his pursuit wasn’t quite so tentative. 

“What I mean is―” But he didn’t have to actively admit it. “―I can tell you’re a good person, Leon. I want all this to be easier for you. I know you don’t believe me, but it isn’t going to stop me from trying.”

Feeling all manner of wrong from admitting to so much emotion without a sarcastic or stupid comment, Dante got to his feet and moved around Leon to get to the bed. He grabbed at every scrap of loose clothing and tossed them into the pile by Trish’s closet, anything to make the area a little more inviting, and gestured to it.

“You should get some more sleep, probably on a bed this time. I’m gonna go and find some food for you.” Dante fled before Leon could get a word in otherwise.

[nekolatte]

Chapter 7: Sword

Preview: She had to be soft, smooth and blemish freeー she had to be perfect, without a single hair out of place.

A fine sheen of sweat coated Weiss’s skin, causing fair hair to stick uncomfortably to her forehead and cheeks, layers feeling heavier as they soaked the perspiration. It was difficult to breathe correctly with the knight's helmet settled securely over her head, but Coal was adamant that every bit of the armor was needed if he even dared to swing a sword in Weiss's general direction.

Appropriate, as Coal didn't pull back on his swings while belatedly teaching between each. He barked orders and corrections like a drill sergeant, as if Weiss was someone far below rank, and she had to constantly stay her tongue from rebukingー while in the training yard, garbed like a knight-in-training, she was below him. She had to remind herself constantly that there was a purpose for all this, even if she had to drag her aching body back home without anyone within the palace being the wiser. Up and down her arms, her legs and chest, Weiss sported discolored bruising on her usually perfectly flawless complexion. Thankfully, Atlesian fashion allowed for the deep purples and repulsive yellows to be easily covered, though she had to give up certain luxuries to keep the maids from gossiping.

She already missed having her hair washed by more skillful hands.

Seemingly angered by a heavy sigh from Weiss, Coal sidestepped her wide swing easily and drove the pummel of his practice sword roughly into the back of a shoulder. A curious shock vibrated through her arm and down her spine, causing her fingers to slacken and her knees to give. All it took after was a hard swing of the sword against her back to bring her down into the ground with a clang of metal and a grunt of pain. Coal rolled her over and looked down at her with a concealed level of disgustーhe didn’t require a helmet.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, why are you wasting my time? Just because you have the luxury to dawdle and pick up swordplay for a weekend activity does not mean the rest of us do.” Though the blade dull, it still had a point that allowed it to pierce the packed earth beside Weiss’s head as Coal drove it down and walked away. “After all, ‘it is the only route open to me’.” He mocked her with a shrill imitation of her voice, and as Weiss struggled to get up, watched as he instructed Katt over for what was, presumably, a proper use of his time.

Though different in weapons and tactics, they flowed separate yet equal in their spar. Katt’s strange combination of a heavy weapon and hand-to-hand style challenged Coal’s solid and structured sword and shieldplay. Weiss still wasn’t certain if they were showing off or attempting to instruct her by example, but whatever the intention she only ended up envying their abilities.

Weiss stepped away from the crowd that was gathering from Coal and Katt’s match and shrugged off the many layers of the knight suit to slip back into her dress. The dressing room was vacant, and the pieces she used easily blended in with the scattered bits of armor the knights deemed someone else’s responsibility to set to rights. While she had fixed herself up as best she could, she still didn’t feel prepared to walk back out where dozens of eyes would be on her again. She especially didn’t feel prepared to confront Coal again, after another humiliating lesson. They couldn’t keep this up forever, as Ironwood would run out of reasons to visit his colleagues at the academy, and Weiss had no tie to the knights like he did.

Maybe she should just give up and stick to what she was good at: sitting quietly and looking pretty.

“There you are.” The deep tone had her tensing, twisting toward the sound and hovering over the helmet still in her grasp as if caught doing something she wasn’t supposed toー which, in hindsight. But Ironwood didn’t look ready to demand answers to why she was alone in a room reserved only for knights while her appointed escorts were outside dueling. Instead, his brows drew together with concern, his previous light mood inching towards tension. “What’s wrong?”

It was at that moment Weiss felt something wet roll down her cheek. She thought sweat at first, not used to such laborious activities (even dancing had never required this much stamina from her), and went to swipe it away with a sleeve, but found more beads falling no matter how quickly she mopped them up. In fear and embarrassment, she turned away and scrubbed furiously at her face, though the harder she pleaded with herself to stop the more tears fell. She didn’t know what triggered the responseー why now, of all times, did she decide that her treatment under Coal was enough to get her to show emotion.

Everything out of his mouth, from the very first moment they met, was factual but it never hurt her like it did now. Was it because he echoed her own words back?

Ironwood’s heavy presence appeared at her side, movements oddly silent despite his size. An awkwardness fell over the room and made her realize all over again how much they were strangers to one another. Though they played lovers, there was no real intimacy between them, and seeing her in such a vulnerable state like this was the most intimate they’ve been, overshadowed only by a similar event weeks prior. A memory blurred by time and emotion, though his vow to her remained oddly clear.

“Is it because I left you alone?”

Weiss turned to look up at Ironwood despite how her eyes burned, watching him trying to read her, trying to solve her problem as if she was another political pawn that needed to be coaxed a certain way. She hated how that made her feel and turned away to stare down at the helmet in her lap. It took a moment to find her voice, and she was thankful that Ironwood was at least patient enough to wait for her.

“Did you… Did you teach Winter how to use a sword?”

There wasn’t a response for a few seconds, and what followed was careful. “I did not see her official training, but instructed her personally once she gained rank.”

Silence fell over them once more, but less stagnant than before. Something easier to breathe in, even if Weiss hadn’t gotten the answer she was hoping forー if she had learned what Winter had gone through to gain her independence, then maybe Weiss could find some instruction in it. She hated how that sounded, even in her own head; the future queen of Atlas, still turning to her big sister for direction. She felt misery start welling up in her chest again, something familiar that just made her wish for her rooms back at the palace, and was startled when a hand delicately took her wrist and turned it over.

Weiss hadn’t worn gloves for the last few trips to the academy, as more articles of clothing to take off and put back on meant less time training, and immediately regretted it when Ironwood seemed to know what he was searching for in particular when a gloved thumb ran over a hard callus beneath her ring finger. Even with standard gauntlets, the friction of holding and swinging a sword was enough to cause them on both hands. No matter the oils or lotions she used every night, they didn’t go away fast enough before she was swinging a heavy piece of metal again. An activity which a princess definitely shouldn’t be participating in. She had to be soft, smooth and blemish freeー she had to be perfect, without a single hair out of place.

Calluses were out of place.

“I am not upset, and I definitely will not tell your father,” Ironwood went on to say and did not stop his idle petting of her palm. Weiss chanced a glance up at him and found his attention focused on the movement of his hand, warm beneath hers. “But I wish you trusted me a bit more to confine in what you planned on doing.”

His brows drew together, and he did look upsetー displeased, evenー when he turned to face her. “You’re a princessー”

Weiss quickly snatched her hand back; she frowned at the tone, at him . If anyone would’ve understood, she thought it would be himー if anyone thought to support her actions, she thought it would be him. Disgusted at herself for having entertained the idea, Weiss quickly stood and slammed the helmet down on the bench they were sharing and stormed out of the room, out to the training field and towards the exit they usually used when waiting for the carriage to be brought back around.

Her husband followed, of course, no need to keep his pace quick as his long strides easily caught up, and she hated that she couldn’t even storm off properly.

Nothing was said, however, while Ironwood ordered their carriage brought and exchanged a few last pleasantries with the academy brass he decided to grant his presence to that day, before they were in the carriage and riding back to the castle. The streets passed idle by, Weiss purposefully staring out the small window and refusing to even acknowledge the knight-general was in her immediate vicinity, despite their knees brushing every so often when the carriage rattled over a rough patch of road.

“Oh, this is ridiculous. I am not an angsty adolescent.” Curiosity got the best of Weiss, and her eyes flickered to watch Ironwood loom close, startled into leaning back firmly into a corner of the carriage, though her entire presence was ignored entirely. Ironwood knocked on the window separating them from the coachman. The frame slid open and a questioning tone filtering from somewhere beyond. Ironwood ordered the carriage to stop at a particular address and reclined back into his seat with a very adolescent huff.

Weiss watched him cross his arms over his broad chest and stare out the window as she had done before. Her earlier irritation was waning, curious now without feeling any sense of danger from the prospect of being taken somewhere she didn’t know. That had to show some growth to their relationship, that she could trust him at least this much.

A few more odd turns had them within the market area, where upper class artisans sold to equally upper class patrons. Weiss couldn’t bring herself to ask why they were here just yet, and waited within the carriage as Ironwood stepped off. She hadn’t been instructed to follow, and thought that maybe Ironwood was running a quick errand and she didn’t need to bother. But he was patiently waiting at the carriage door, hand outstretched and head tilted in curiosityー asking without words if she was coming along. Of course she took the hand and used it to help herself out, excitement vibrating through her at the thought of just being out, of exploring a city she would soon be ruling.

The time of day cast long shadows from between the buildings, broken in regular intervals by flickering Dust-lanterns that glowed a gentle gold over the narrow stone streets. Most people were walking, with only the occasional carriage and ridden horse leisurely parting the sparse crowd. All manner of upper socialites were out with varied accompaniment, browsing the wares on display within store windows or watching the occasional entertainer that set up post in more open spaces. It was livelier than she imagined, having always had new clothing and jewelry shipped directly to her after it was tailored to her specifications.

Browsing for purchasable items felt like a novelty, and lost herself in the moment while she glanced around excitedly that she nearly missed the fond expression on Ironwood’s face. She still wasn’t used to the effects it had on her and felt utterly childish that he happened to catch her so unawares. Composing herself made the smile diminish, dim into something tender and special, but far more appropriate for society to accept.

Ironwood offered his arm this time, and the two moved together down the path of shops while she heard the carriage being drawn away behind them. She nearly forgot about the dispute they had prior, attention drawn to all the displays they passedー dresses, jewelry, books and fabric, curious little trinkets and even an apothecary despite Atlas’s lack of diverse flora. Twilight descended upon them without Weiss noticing, yet they seemed no where near their destination if Ironwood’s demeanor was anything to go by. He allowed Weiss to stop them from time to time when she wanted a better look at something, though she refrained from pulling him into a shop in case they were recognized.

Besides a few pointed stares and some light whispering, no one seemed bold enough to approach actual royalty. Shopkeepers would be another beast entirely and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with it, saving the last reserves of her courtesy for whatever the knight-general had planned. But the hour and silence were starting to wear on her, despite her attempts at small talk, and the shoes she wore were not meant for extended use like this. Thankfully their destination arrived before her patience (and the hem of her dress) wore out completely, and Weiss was escorted through a tactfully decorated door of a blacksmith’s shop.

The inside was comfortably warm compared to the sharp chill of the typical Atlesian weather outside, thanks in most part to the large hearth roaring with life in the back of the shop. It cast a dull light on the various weapons set on display, making them glisten from their well-polished surfaces and embedded jewels. They all seemed rather extravagant, and more for show than practical use, something that seemed out of place with Ironwood’s apparent tastesー yet he approached the shopkeep with the familiarity of a returning customer.

Weiss thought it impolite to eavesdrop on their conversation, despite it being spoken at an appropriate volume, so she took the opportunity to wander and get a better view of the items on display. She didn’t know the different classifications of swords, as there seemed to be many in style and form, but she was particularly drawn to a set with narrow blades, appearing far lighter than the practice blade given to her for use at the academy. She had no eye for this particular craft yet found herself attempting to appraise them all the same, briefly wondering if the store owner would have the gall to scold the crown princess if she just picked one up to look at it more closely.

She decided against putting the owner in such an awkward position, and turned her attention back to the pair to see if Ironwood had concluded his business and they were getting ready to leave. Yet she found the store owner gone and Ironwood was, in fact, watching her with a slight smile to his eyes. He approached when caught, pulling from his easy recline against the counter, and folded his arms in a militant stance behind his back. He was at her side in three long strides, gesturing at the blades with a nudge of his chin.

“Interested in rapiers?”

Finally, a name to the weapon.

“They seem... interesting.” The answer she gave purposefully vague in case this was another test. And once again, she wasn’t certain if she passed or failed when Ironwood took one of the rapiers into his handsー one open palm on the blade itself and the other on the handle. He offered the latter to her and Weiss took an unconscious step back.

“Rapiers are primarily a fencing sword.” With a simple shrug, Ironwood took the hilt firmly in hand and held it aloft, seemingly studying it with a critical eye. Weiss watched a gloved finger run smoothly over the flat metal. “They are best utilized as thrusting weapons because of their thinner frames, more adept in open spaces than the cramped front lines of a militant formationー though any blade in capable hands can be used in any manner of new and creative ways. It’s an elegant weapon; I’m not surprised you were drawn to it.”

“I only…liked the way it looked.” It felt like a lie, even to her own ears, and felt them redden when one of his brows skeptically rose. “Itー It’s very beautiful.”

“Though the shortsword is standard issue amongst new recruits, they’re encouraged to expand their weapon prowess and knowledge as they progress through their training.” Ironwood set the rapier back into place and picked another one up within the same display, Weiss feeling herself reddened with every new word spoken. She didn’t understand what Ironwood was playing at but felt like she was being castigated. “Lady Winter chose the saber for its sweeping motions to favor her fighting preferences. Meanwhile, your escort, Knight Katt, chose the flail. Though, considering she is a faunus and has a natural superior strength and stamina over her fellow comrades, a heavier weapon would work best in her favor. It is always about finding what best works for you; what you can accomplish.”

After appraising the new rapier, an almost-white metal with vine-like finishes, he offered the weapon up again. A cold moment of hesitation washed over Weiss, suddenly far too aware of the room, the crackling fire somewhere behind herー how empty it was and the muffled sound of people just on the other side of the thick wooden door. Anyone could walk in and see the crown princess taking up arms, no doubt ready to spread rumors that she was going to run off and play knight like her sister, or that the knight-general was working his way through corrupting all the Schnee heirs. But when would another chance like this present itself? Coal was particular to what she could and couldn’t touch, and anything with a sharp edge made him froth at the mouth if she got too close to it.

So Weiss took the chance, slowー careful . Her fingers slipped over the handle, feeling too large in her hand. The weight of it was so awkward that she nearly dropped it when Ironwood let go of the blade and had to use both hands, one on top of the other, to keep herself steady. The shortsword she used in training was more evenly weighted, while still felt heavier at the endー as if the driving force would come from her and not the sword itself.

“You’re a princess, Weiss.” Ironwood’s tone was soft and rumbled warm like a purr that she shivered despite herself, knowing the act did not go unnoticed. “A shortsword is far too common for eminence like yourself.”

Ironwood moved in her peripheral, Weiss struggling to keep utterly still despite the moderate weight in her hands causing her arms to ache. Her previous encounter with Coal’s sword to the shoulder was aching in time with her rapidly beating heart, and the heat on her skin only increased when she felt the solid presence of the knight-general at her back. He was imposing in ways that should not feel reassuring to her, yet was torn between melting into the large expanse of his chest and making a run for the door as his arms came up. Palms slid over her waist first and she tried not to squeak like a caught mouse as she felt them shift her ever so slightly, correcting her posture as they went. Up and over her arms, feeling as if her dress wasn’t there at all for all the sensations that bled through the fabric. Something deep inside her ached, but she didn’t know how to tell him when his palms finally came to settle over hers, efficiently encasing her with his body.

This was intimate. This wasn’t fleeting touches and chaste kisses to appease nosy nobility, or empty words and phrases to reassure the masses of what they thought they knew. This was them: James, a loyal knight before a duke, and Weiss, a yearning spirit before an icy shell. There was nothing here that would benefit their truce and yet they both allowed it, with Ironwood being the one to instigate it when his needs for this union were already guaranteed. Weiss felt confusion all over again, and remembered to breathe once Ironwood finally stepped awayー the lingering caress as he pulled back could’ve just been her imagination.

The rapier felt heavier than before, and Weiss immediately set it back onto its display, using the opportunity to give the knight-general her back while she composed herself. Ironwood seemed to take that as his instruction to leave, and rang up the shopkeeper to talk a bit more before Weiss rejoined them and both were escorted out with promises of discounts and gifts should they ever decide to return.

The sun was truly gone once they stepped out into the bitter night air, Weiss able to see her breath with every deep exhale. The day’s events had worn her down, and she wanted nothing more than a steaming bath and to sink into a mountain of pillows. She didn’t know when the knight-general would make another visit to the academy but thought of ways to coerce Coal into training her with a rapier. Money was the first and only thing to come to mind, distracted in her thought process that the sudden firm weight on her shoulders had her jumping away.

But the weight followed her, and it became apparent almost immediately that she had nothing to fear and just made a fool of herself for the hundredth time that day. Ironwood’s jacket had the lingering heat of him in the fabric, easily banishing the chill that was threatening to aggravate her injuries.

A hand against the small of her back had her meekly following while her attention was kept on the jacket offeredー on the way it engulfed her and covered more of her than some of her dresses did. On the memory of where the arms that once were in these sleeves had been, and on the scent she still couldn’t identify that wafted gently from the high collar. It was becoming familiar despite the mysteryー inviting when she had nowhere else to turn to.

[nekolatte]

Chapter 6: Quiet

Preview: A shiver had broken out over his skin despite his warm layers and the very real heat of Alucard looming overhead. His body had the instinctive urge to complyー but to what, he couldn’t say. Years of training were forgotten, as if never drilled for this exact scenario where it was meant to come as second nature to him. Trevor was prey, had been all along.

They were both breathing hard by the time they found adequate sanctuary beneath the thick canopy of trees, invisible to the flock of demons overhead following their blood trail. Reasoning they were as safe as they could be before sunrise, Trevor allowed them a moment to rest against the large, protective trunk of a willow tree.

Side by side, this was the closest Trevor had ever been to Alucard willinglyー and considering he hadn’t spontaneously caught some deadly vampiric disease just yet, he was reluctant to move away. Not because he enjoyed the proximity, but because Alucard looked ready to tip over and pass out.

A usually pale complexion looked worse somehow, green at the edges and eyes sunken. They lost a bit of their color, staring forward without an ounce of focus, and it felt like Trevor’s shoulder was the only thing keeping Alucard upright at the moment.

As much as Trevor enjoyed his new occupation as a resting post, there was no way they would get back to Sypha at their atrocious pace. And though he trusted Sypha not to do anything stupid to put herself in danger, he also didn’t trust her not to do that. If they were gone for too long, she might take it upon herself to search for themー right into the heart of some monster den, if she felt the need.

Cursing under his breath, Trevor hopelessly searched for some sort of miracle around them that could help with their current dilemma, but his life wasn’t made up of conveniences. He knew what he had to do while still having the energy to do it, and though the first offer had been almost instinctual, Trevor was wary about offering his blood again.

Never had he heard of a vampire turning down bloodー and the way Alucard had gone about it had him questioning the why.

It obviously wasn’t for Trevor’s sake. At least, he didn’t think so. It definitely seemed like the vampire’s pride had gotten the best of him and made him speak out against the offer. But little did Alucard’s pride help now when they were still stranded for a few more hours, monsters waiting on the fringes to pick them off in the dark.

And even once the creatures left, they would be forced to circle the town or risk Alucard dying from sun exposure. Trevor did not run back in and rescue him just to have the stupid vampire die from a little sunshine.

It took three nudges to the ribs to get Alucard to lift his head, but his eyes were still glassy and his breath was a little too sharpー too quick. Without thinking, without considering any consequences, Trevor lifted his palm to a clammy cheek and supported the vampire’s head within, watching as Alucard breathed a trembling sigh of relief and heavily leaned into the touch.

“What happenedー before you were separated?”

Alucard’s brows drew in, the vampire quiet as he seemed to ponder the question, though Trevor was certain he was only struggling against his fatigue. Trevor was patient, though, waiting for Alucard’s answer. There was no rush, not in the pitch blackness of the forest and the far off screech of hungry monsters.

It took a few starts before Alucard could find his voice. “Too many at once.”

“You’ve dealt with that many before.” Trevor was quick to retaliate, wanting a legitimate answerー more specifically, the answer he had been entertaining for the hour it took to find Alucard and bring him to safety. “What was different this time?”

Alucard bared his teeth, displaying fangs that still made Trevor twitchー recoiling enough for the vampire to take notice. Alucard leaned away, back to rest against the tree’s trunk for support. He drew in a breath and Treavor listened as it whistled. “It is as I saidー I underestimated them. I made a mistake.”

Trevor frowned, his irritation spiking sharply, though he refused to let it take hold. “You don’t make mistakes like that.”

“Because you know me so well?” It sounded close to a threat, the way it was hissed between sharp teeth, but Alucard looked too worn out to make good on it and thus looked more like a petulant kitten to Trevor. “I allowed them to circle, thinking they didn’t have the power or ingenuity to overwhelm me. I was wrong.”

Alucard sounded sincere in his own assessment, but Trevor still couldn’t accept it. He knew how Alucard foughtー he was good at managing multiple enemies and had a clear awareness of his surroundings. The latter not as good as Trevor, but better than anyone else he’d fought.

“So it wasn’t because you were feeling weak?”

The question dropped like lead, and any amicable mood that might have been between them caved under the weight of it. Alucard no longer made the attempt to look as if he wasn’t avoiding Trevor’s line of sight, turned away and a bit hunched over his injured leg. Trevor’s annoyance spiked more.

“It wasn’t because you’re craving human blood, right? For whatever reason, animal blood isn’t helping you a bit. Right?”

Fixated on the partial profile he could see of Alucard, Trevor watched the strong jaw workー watched it grind hard, and he could swear he heard it creek from where he sat. That couldn’t be good for such sharp teeth.

Why had Trevor been blessed to be surrounded by such stubborn people?

Scoffing rough and hard, Trevor reached for the small knife at his hip and unsheathed it with one smooth motion. The drag of metal on leather immediately got the vampire’s attention, head swiveled to see what Trevor meant to do with the weapon. Alucard hadn’t expected him to press the blade to his exposed armー vambrace removed and sleeve rolled up as far as the fabric would allow. The metal made his tanned skin indent though did not split it open, never having the opportunity to apply pressure when strong fingers caught Trevor’s wrist and held the weapon away.

Alucard’s entire arm was trembling from the effort, but still enough that Trevor couldn’t break from it easily no matter which way he twisted his wrist. The vampire had some fight left in him, and instead of using that energy to keep moving and get them to Sypha safely, he was using it to reject Trevor yet again.

Now he was getting angry.

“You’ve been hungry this whole time.” Trevor bit out the words, still mindful of their attempt to keep the horde from finding their location but needing his irritation to be known. He still struggled against the hold on him, now with his other wrist captured when he made the attempt to pry fingers off after his knife had fallen from numb fingers. The skin was reddening with the start of a bruise. “But too fucking stubborn to say anything . Too fucking prideful to admit you can’t win at some stupid game and lord how smarter you are than meー acting like a petulant child instead of a fucking adultー”

“Again, I must reiterate: ‘because you know me so well?’ Vampires are not meant to feast on the blood of animals, nor do they eat as humans do. But Iー am I to know everything about my kind, when I am the only one?”

There was a crack in Alucard’s voice that momentarily paralized Trevor, eyes wide and dumbfounded at the pained expression that passed Alucard’s face. It wasn’t one of injury, this was something else, something moreー a pain deep, deep down that had scabbed over with time. Something Trevor immediately understood.

Startled by his own admission, Alucard reacted strongly by punishing Trevor for bearing witness to it. He surged forward, though Trevor reacted quickly and kicked sharply into Alucard’s injured leg. The effect was immediate, and he used the opportunity to get to his feet, not really knowing what he planned on doing from there but knowing it would be required to get anything done. His victory, however, was short lived as Alucard recovered quickly and pounced, toppling them both onto the ground in a graceless heap. Limbs tangled and contorting every which way, tussling on the floor like schoolchildren over some petty argument.

Alucard managed to pin Trevor down in the end with wrists over his head and legs locked in place, making it difficult for Trevor to find purchase and fight back. This was not a position he ever found himself in and discovered was one he never wanted to be in again. Trevor’s stomach was rolling with too many emotions to pick out and name, heart fluttering like a bird seconds away from being caught in the mouth of a cat. A shiver had broken out over his skin despite his warm layers and the very real heat of Alucard looming overhead. His body had the instinctive urge to complyー but to what, he couldn’t say. Years of training were forgotten, as if never drilled for this exact scenario where it was meant to come as second nature to him.

Trevor was prey, had been all along.

But Alucard made no move to rip out his throat with teeth made for piercing, nor snap his wrists despite the pressure being put on them. He just stared down at Trevor, cast in shadow that Trevor’s human eyes couldn’t see through, just waiting . Enough time passed that Trevor’s jackrabbit heart was slowing, his mind coming back to himー his training that everything about this was wrong but able to keep himself from reacting out in fear or aggression. He thought back to what Sypha had said, to what Alucard was trying to say to him now with all the wrong words. Trevor may not have been fluent in twentysomething languages like they were, but he could easily read the nonverbal.

So he let the fight bleed out of him, pliant and trusting that Alucard meant him no harm. Above him, Alucard responded in kindー fingers loosening their hold, the sharp, rigid line of his body bowing beneath the weight of his pain and exhaustion. His head came down slowly, and Trevor had to keep from tensing when a golden crown came to rest on his shoulder. He, instead, allowing his more human, compassionate instincts to take over. A hand on the back of his neck, calloused fingers tangling in silky hairー and, really, they got to bathe once every other day if they were particularly lucky (which they usually weren’t), why was Alucard always so put-together?

Trevor banished the inappropriate thought by giving Alucard’s nape a reassuring squeeze, thumb idly brushing over smooth, pale skin. “What do you need?”

No more assuming, no more forcing Alucard into this pigeonhole Trevor made for him. He was more than a vampire, more than the son of Dracula and the fabled sleeping soldierー Trevor was neglecting the whole other half of Alucard that made him what he is, that Trevor might have been pretending didn’t exist.

“Tell me what you need.”

Trevor heard the gentle sound of teeth grindingー the rustle of fabric and shifting of hair. Breath wheezed, limbs moved. The long line of Alucard’s body fit against Trevor’s as he finally came to rest on top of him, heavy in a not-unpleasant way that Trevor didn’t know how to compartmentalizeー it wasn’t like having a lithe, soft woman sprawled over him after the throws of ecstacy. More like an old bloodhound settling in for a long afternoon nap, with unfamiliar, sharp angles and a heavy heat, but obviously comfortable that it felt a damn shame to move the exhausted creature aside.

Trevor found his fingers were caressing skin and hair of their own volition.

The night stretched on, with its ghastly sounds muffled off in the distance, and Trevor had settled on not having his olive branch taken when lips smacked with a soft sound, preparing speech.

“…an answer.” Alucard murmured, as if only just barely conscious. “Why did you offer?”

Blue eyes narrowed in the dark, watching the speckles of pale moonlight breaking through the heavy canopy overhead. Trevor took in a deep breath and answered honestly, having nothing else he could give that Alucard might want. “Because you needed it.”

No comment came, despite how long Trevor waited in the quietー the vampire’s only response was a gentle snoring muffled against Trevor’s shoulder.

[nekolatte]

Chapter 3: Play Along

Preview: “I can get there myself. Do I look like a damsel in distress?” “I meanー” “Stop."

When Leon woke, there was an odd taste in his mouth and his chest felt split open, though a cursory glance showed no additional damage since yesterdayー the bandages only a soft pink where the wounds had been worst. He had to give credit to Dante: the man knew his stitch, and he thought he knew why.

The coat pooled around his waist looked like it had seen quite a few battles. A bit frayed but carefully maintained, old patched with new that it was nearly indiscernible. The leather so smooth to the touch that Leon found himself touching it more than he ought to; it was certainly a unique piece, the stitching intricate in a way that didn't seem normal. And now that he got a better look at it, there was the faintest hint of a pattern to the redー looking almost like reptilian scales. Deciding it was too odd to give it any more thought, Leon reluctantly pulled it off himself, and folded it so it wasn't in a messy pile on the couch.

Trying to sit up was a challenge, though Leon pushed through with a grunt of effort, and took proper stock of his surroundings. The place looked worse, somehow, though maybe Leon only noticed now that he wasn't suffering from a mild concussion. There were books everywhere, scattered like a tornado had torn through, which he had to frown a bit at, considering how old some of them looked. Pages brittle and yellowed, spines broken and intricate gold-lettering faded into ineligible smudges. He tried to reach for one closest to himself, but paused when a sharp pain stabbed into his side, forcing him to retreat.

Rubbing over the sore spot, Leon willed the pain to subside while he took to cataloging the area again. Piles of miscellaneous tucked into corners looked like trash, but Leon could pick out the shape of odd trinkets that didn't look valuable but certainly important. There were various statuettes in varying degrees of neglect, artistic style he couldn't quite pinpoint. Things he would see in museums or seventh grade history books, mostly. He also saw a vanity mirror with a large crack right through the middle, and a box of old record tapes. There was a hairbrush and a scarf made of a fiber that didn't look plant- or animal-based.

If he hadn't known Dante was somehow connected to the things Leon fought yesterday, he would've written the man off as an eccentric hoarder. All this together pointed at something specific, but Leon was still missing clues, and he was reluctant to admit that he was snared by the mystery of it all. His thoughts strayed back to the man in question, and as if summoned by Leon's wandering thoughts, Dante appeared through a swinging door, looking as startled as Leon felt.

“You're awake.”

Leon continued to stareー because, while intellectually, he knew Dante was the muscled type, the coat had somehow hid the extent of it. It made him seem taller but shapeless; with it gone there was, well, shape. Broad in the shoulders and narrow at the waist, toned to high hell that he strained the shirt he was strapped into, and left Leon both mystified and completely jealous. A jealousy he hadn't felt since high school when the seniors were already settling into their new strengths and physiques, and Leon was still a scrawny freshman with an oddly pitched voice and thin arms.

Leon pushed the thought out of his head before Dante could even have a chance at reading it on his face, though the man had picked up on something, because he was looking down at himself.

“Nope, wearing pants.” Dante seemed to say more to himself than to him before looking back at Leon. “What? Do you not remember who I am?”

“Dante.” Leon said it carefully, as if making all this more real just by uttering it. He suddenly felt tired and regretted getting up. The couch, surprisingly, had been comfortable and Dante's coat had been warm. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A day, more or less.” Dante made his way over and leaned against the edge of the desk beside the couch, eyeing Leon carefully. Leon couldn't decide if it was out of suspicion or worry. “How are you feeling?”

Leon paused, pensive, and found he wanted to answer honestly. There was nothing to gain by telling Dante he was fine, except to write himself off as a stubborn liar the second a sharp pain brought Leon down. He had to gain the man’s trust; present himself as a cooperative prisoner until Dante showed his true colors. Hopefully by then, Leon wouldn't be held together with twine and a prayer. “Like I ate coal. Like I’ve been run over by a truck. Like I need to be somewhere else; like all of this is some fucked up dream. I’m exhausted, in pain, and hungry enough that I might start eating the pages in some of these books you have thrown around. Like my head is stuffed with cottonー and I keep seeing feathers whenever I blink. I… I think I remember dreaming about an owl but it felt so real.”

Dante hummedrealng and low in his throat, but shrugged in the end. “That's weird. Think it meant something?”

“I’m not sure…” Leon frowned, not certain what he found unsavory about Dante’s reaction, but decided not to press. There were other matters he wanted to deal with first. "Do you have a bathroom in this place?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dante gestured vaguely towards the rest of the building, and moved to stand. “Upstairs; want me to carry you?”

Leon stared, a brow rising towards his hairline. Dante only grinned at himー all boyish charm and innocence that triggered an odd feeling in Leon. He had this sudden thought of ruffling snowy-white hair, and quickly shook himself free of it. He knew Dante hadn't done it on purpose, but still glared.

“I can get there myself. Do I look like a damsel in distress?”

“I meanー”

“Stop. Just tell me where to go.” Before waiting for a response, Leon took great pains to stand, feeling like his entire chest was on fire and the base of his spine was oddly twisted. Dante was there suddenly, hovering ー concern on his face that in no way seemed fake. It unnerved Leon, so he pushed Dante away with a weak hand. “You pick me up and I punch you.”

“I was only suggesting because it'd be faster.” Dante’s humor couldn't entirely hide his lingering worry, though he made no move to actually touch Leon. He just stayed close.

“And I still have my dignity.” Which was starting to look useless when he needed help by the halfway point up the stairs, legs trembling like a newborn foal. And he really shouldn't have felt comfortable with someone's hand on the small of his back, but the leather of Dante's glove was warm and smooth, the latter contrasted by twin points of rough pads that had him breaking out in goosebumps.

Thankfully, it wasn't mentioned, and the short distance up the rest of the stairs and into a dark hallway was done in relative silence. And by relative, Leon meant he didn't respond to a single thing Dante deemed fit to utter. It was all nonsense filler, probably to distract Leon, but there was nothing that could make him forget the slow throb that ran just under his skin. He couldn't remember being this worse for wear before, and he'd certainly suffered enough hell to warrant it.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He found himself cutting Dante off, less out of irritation and more his inability to let a conversation go without tossing a quip or two in.

It didn't sound that way to his own ears, but Dante didn't seem to mind one way or another. Or, more likely, didn't care, as he steered Leon into a room. It was obviously the master bedroom, with a connected bathroom and an oversized closet that still wasn't big enough to hold the clothes spilling out. All women’s, in varying stylesー strewn everywhere in a similar chaos to that in the room below.

“Trish won’t mind if you use her bathroom. Cleanest out of the two.”

Clean was not the word Leon would've used, but nothing seemed to be growing on the walls or floor, so he didn't pay any mind to the various towels, clothes, and beauty products left strewn everywhere, and reevaluated his preconceived notions that women were always neat and organized. They could be just as sloppy as men, apparently.

Dante used his foot to knock the toilet lid down to help Leon sit down on it, Leon too thankful to finally have a chance to catch his breath to argue that he could've done that himself. He took a moment to rest while Dante fidgetedー obviously wanting to do something for Leon but not knowing what. Leon got tired of that quickly.

“So, do you follow all your guests into the bathroom?”

Taking the hint with a huff and a cheeky smirk, Dante turned to leave. "You should take a shower while you're here; I'll find some clothes for you."

"Are you saying I smell?" Leon called after the man, but Dante didn't deem it worthy of response. Just a pointed salute Leon could only see from the back and a request to "holler" if he needed anything.

Something Leon was definitely not going to do, even if it hurt getting his limbs to move the way he wanted them to. But he was soon relieved and stripped bare, taking care to unwrap the bandages so he could get in the shower. There would definitely be scarring, the wounds still angry and redー bruising spread like a topographic map across his midsection. No wonder it hurt to move.

Climbing into the tub and under the heavy spray of warm water, tense muscles loosen and grime rinsed off in waves. The water around his feet had gone from an alarming shade of red to a dull pink in just a matter of moments, and with great pains, Leon brought the vibrant color back when trying to wash his hair. The blood, which he was skeptical of calling it that, had congealed and stuck to his hair like gelatin, falling in tiny lumps every time he ran his fingers through.

The feel and smell had his empty stomach violently revolting, and every time he hunched over, his bruising flared and forced him upright again. There was no comfortable way to get through this, and Leon's arms got tired before he could get all the gunk out. His legs followed soon after, giving out entirely as muscles quivered and knees buckled. It was thanks to his quick reflexes that Leon managed to keep from falling completely on his ass, grabbing the shower curtain and tearing it off metal rings on his way down.

Landing in the ceramic tub shot a wild pain up his spine, and Leon couldn't stop the yelp of pain that followedー enough of a holler to have Dante barging in shortly after without knocking. He looked startled, concerned again , and Leon had a moment to realize the blood dripping out of his hair probably didn't look comforting.

Grunting through the pain, Leon tried to stop the hands from scooping him up. “It's not mine. I slipped, that's it. Didn't bang my head.”

Dante didn't look convinced, but he did look like he was close to laughter now that the immediate danger had passed. Be it Leon's withering glare or his own sense of politeness (Leon bet the former), he said nothing, kept his laughter to himself, and shut off the shower with a pointed twist of the wrist.

“Going to let me help you now or did you want to injure yourself further?”

“Do I have much of a choice?” Leon gritted through his teeth, taking Dante's offered hand to sit himself up, shower curtain pointedly settled over his lap and arm angled to try and conserve an ounce of modesty. His would-be-protector laughed then.

“You're not packing anything I haven't seen before, pal.”

“Let's try to keep something private for the honeymoon.” Leon hoped to make his point across with a glare that Dante seemed to accept with a roll of the eyes and hands raised in surrender. He sat on the edge of the tub, turned the faucet on instead of the showerhead, and looked around for something.

Dante pulled out a plastic container that once held bath salts from under the sink, rinsed it out, and filled it up again to dump the contents right on Leon's head. He had anticipated it but still felt no less humiliated by the turn of events.

"You usually this moody in the mornings?”

"Do you give all your guests complimentary baths?" Leon bit back while trying to keep the dirtied water out of his mouth.

"Only the pretty ones."

Once Dante got a lather going in his hair, and the smell of lavender replaced that of rot, Leon finally felt a little more human and not just a water balloon filled with feeling. The way Dante's fingers ran through the strands, blunt nails massaging into his scalp, definitely helped ease Leon's mood. He couldn't remember the last time anyone did this for himー touched him with purpose andcare. Because Dante could've done a half-assed job of it to get it over with, but he was being thorough and Leon was helpless to it.

He privately wondered if there was a service like this somewhere.

"Head down." The barest of pressures had Leon following the order without question, eyes and mouth closed as more water was tipped over his head. Fingers brushed through again, working out the soap, and like Leon had been helpless since the start of all this shit, he was helpless to the deep, rough groan scratching the back of his throat.

Shoulders went tense and eyes opened despite the steady drip of soapy water. Somewhere above, Dante had gone still tooー fingers still in Leon's hair and bucket steadily dripping what water remained inside.

Before Leon could think to fake an injury to try and explain the reason for the noise, there was a poorly concealed snort that soon bubbled into chuckles and outright laughter, too loud in the small bathroom as it echoed and made Leon miserable in fantastic new ways. He could feel the heat of a blush crawl over skin, could even feel his ears burn, and shied from it by covering his face in both palms.

If the laughter had ended there, maybe Leon could've salvaged whatever dignity he had left, but Dante had to get up and excuse himself from the room, only to laugh more loudly in the main room. The sound carried, and Leon wished he really had died of his injuries. Would've been better than this humiliation.

It felt like such a long time after when Dante finally managed some semblance of control over himself and reappeared, face red and tears in his eyes. He took one look at Leon, not having been able to move from his spot in the tub, and he turned tail with the sound of another wheezing fit. Leon barked over it to be heard.

"Can you just give me a towel!"

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry." Dante reappeared againー all bright smiles and friendly cheer. "Let me just finish and then I'll leave you alone."

Taking up the bucket again and filling it to the brim, Dante seemed to have gotten over his fit, but Leon would not he tempted in putting his guard down. He glared on ahead, resolved himself not to enjoy the drag of blunt nails, and was completely prepared for Dante's airy comment.

"You really enjoyed that, didn't yー"

Ripping the container out of Dante's hand, Leon threw the water into his stupid, smug face and was satisfied by the sputter and curse than followed. Fair hair was plastered to Dante's forehead, dripping almost sadly onto the tiled floor, but Dante himself was still smiling, if a bit ruefully.

"I enjoyed that," Leon said as he threw the plastic aside, trying and failing not to ooze satisfaction at such a petty attack. He should be above such actions, act like the mature adult between them, but it wasn't fair that Dante got to have fun at his expense.

"Fair enough." A lazy chuckle rumbled between them, and Dante lifted his hands to push them through the wet patch of hair to slick the mess back.

The transformation was startling, enough to dampen Leon's brief mirth into curious confusion. He'd never seen someone turn into a completely different person just by rearranging their hair, and Leon continued to stare despite knowing he shouldn't. He paid close attention to the shift of muscle and easy grace that seemed to come naturally to Dante as he stoodー a show put on by someone comfortably aware they were being stared atー and was transfixed when Dante pinched the collar of his ridiculous shirt and tugged on it to further expose the sliver of chest. Beads of water slid over pectorals and Leon watched them go.

The washing cloth tossed at Leon stopped his ogling.

"Finish up while I go get the clothes I threw all over the hallway when you shrieked like a banshee and scared me half to death."

Though teeth gritted and his annoyance came flooding back, Leon was a bit startled to find he didn't really mind the jab. It felt like bait, certainly, but in hope to get Leon to play along. Like a dog nipping at the ankles because it wanted attention. Leon knew he shouldn't feel anything but weariness around a stranger like Dante, and yet a little part of him had allowed it.

When he looked back up with a retort on his tongue, Dante was gone.

[nekolatte]

Chapter 5: Closer

Preview: He wasn't one for mythicism or fate; life was a chaotic mess that everyone just had to struggle to make sense of. And in his chaotic mess of a life, he so happened to run into a stubborn mage and a pompous vampire that softened the ache of a family he will never be able to see again.

Trevor cared, and it terrified him more than the feral beasts or the prospect of his own mortality.

All around Trevor was chaosー snapping teeth and chilling cries, monsters on the hunt for blood and not sated with the meager scraps they had found at the end of a very short battle. They tore into each other like starved, savage beasts with killing the only thing on their minds. No alliances amongst themー no sign of camaraderie, and it was the most terrifying thing Trevor had to bear witness to.

The town never stood a chance, marked for death well before they arrived, and Trevor felt responsible for not being able to do more. He had set them up to failー he gave Alucard too much ground to cover and Sypha stood alone with no reinforcements. The mistakes and what he could have done to prevent them cluttered his mind and wouldn't quiet. But he didn't have the luxury to hide and wallow in misery, waiting to be found by one of Dracula's monsters. There were still two people that needed him, and he wasn't going to lose them to a mob of heartless beasts like before.

Sypha was easiest to find, having been stationed closerー her small frame contorted to fit between the rubble that had fallen around her. With care, he pulled her out and checked her over quickly, noting the steady stream of blood leaking from her temple, her hair matted on one side. It was concerning, but for now she was whole and conscious and, more importantly, able to walk.

Cupping her face in both palms, he forced her wild, frightened gaze to lock on his, the sharp jerk enough to bring some of her back into her head. The regret immediate on her face, guilt close behind, but Trevor didn't have time to talk her down from any hysteria. He just jerked her again to make her focus.

“Go back to the horses. Do you remember the way?” A nod; Trevor sighed in relief. “Take as many people as you can with you; only the ones you find on the way. Only the ones that can walk. Do you understand?”

“Butー”

“Do you understand, Sypha?” He hated being harsh, especially when she flinched at his tone, but now was not the time for her righteous selflessness and he needed her to come to terms with it. “You can't save everyone. As much as you want to, as much as it pains you to see the suffering and walk away, you cannot save everyone.”

“Iー I can'tー” Her voice broke, and Trevor's heart nearly followed. Tears collected in her large, diamond eyes, tipping over and spilling downー leaving streaks on dirtied skin. “I can't save everyone.”

“Go back to the horses. I'll meet you there.” His thumb swept over a trailー the act instinctualー and he moved to leave, back into the fray to find Alucard, who was lost in the commotion after their first line of defense fell. But small hands grabbed his sleeves, weak in strength but with enough force to make Trevor pause. He turned and looked back at Sypha, saw the fear, and grabbed her arms in a grip he hoped conveyed reassurance. “I promise to meet you there.”

A nod was all Sypha could muster, and Trevor was glad she hadn't decided to speak. He would've been too tempted to go with herー to see her to safety. But he couldn't be in two places at once and needed to rearrange his priorities.

Cupping the back of her neck in a fierce, protective hold, Trevor tapped their foreheads together in a quick exchange of affection before turning and rushing back into the chaos.

The air was choked with heat and pungent smells, making it difficult for his lungs to properly fill, but still he pressed forward. He skirted around the monsters that he could, was forced to fight the one's he couldn't out-maneuverー and it was taking too long to search the ruined town when his every turn was blocked by raging fires, debris, demons or some unholy combination of all.

Adrenaline was starting to wane, exhaustion creeping into limbs and making them lock. Trevor was starting to trembleー which was never a good signー and for one, startling moment he dreaded the thought of having to leave Alucard behind. He didn't care for the vampire, still flinching around his otherness, but Trevor couldn't lie and say he was putting this much effort into keeping a prophecy alive. He wasn't one for mythicism or fate; life was a chaotic mess that everyone just had to struggle to make sense of. And in his chaotic mess of a life, he so happened to run into a stubborn mage and a pompous vampire that softened the ache of a family he will never be able to see again.

Trevor cared, and it terrified him more than the feral beasts or the prospect of his own mortality.

It's what continued to drive him forward despite his exhaustion, and what gave him a surge of strength at the clang of metal somewhere on the other side of the street he was on. Beasts had no use for metal, and it was easy to surmise that it had to be Alucardー which meant he was still alive and fighting.

Though rounding the corner did not fill him with the hope he wished, instead finding Alucard surrounded on all sides and a splash of red dyeing the ground at his feet. Trevor didn't thinkー he assessed the situation too quickly. Had he had the forethought to notice the vampire's slouch, the defensive curl of his body, Trevor might have stopped himself from shouting to Alucard to “loosen up”. He might have stopped himself from flinging his whip, the crack of leather splitting the shrieks and forms of beasts, and catching it around the vampire's leg.

Trevor threw his weight into the tug, surprise a major factor in being able to sweep the vampire right off his feetー literally. Alucard scraped right under slashing claws and gnashing fangs and out of immediate danger, which he couldn't be bothered to be thankful for if the immediate glare he threw Trevor was any indication. But at least he was able to give it, and that was all that mattered to Trevor at the current moment as he tried to haul the vampire up to his feet. There was obvious reluctance on Alucard’s part to put weight on one side, and he hobbled next to Trevor because of it once they began running.

Everytime he chanced a glance over to make sure he was being followed by the correct monster, Alucard had his sweating face pinched in pain and was lagging further behind, lacking his usual grace and stumbling over bits of debris he could normally vault with ease.

Unable to stand watching the pathetic display, and tired of having to rush back and save Alucard from a demon intercepting them, Trevor pulled the vampire into an alcove away from the main street. Made out of two buildings falling into each other, it wasn't the safest place to rest for very long, but Alucard let out a noise that was so much like unadulterated relief it was close to a sob, and Trevor felt a twinge of guilt at having made him run for so long.

In this frayed moment of peace, Trevor looked him over more properly and noticed the sluggish bleed of the leg he was favoring before. Trevor hesitated, realized how stupid it was to, and grabbed the leg in question to give it a tight squeeze. Alucard's reaction was immediate, teeth bared and tears stinging his eyes, choking on a cry he couldn't voice in fear of being heard. Trevor immediately let go, his hand coming away tacky with blood.

“You're injured.” The deadly look Alucard gave him spoke volumes of what he thought of such an obvious observation. Trevor tried to look apologetic and made his intentions clear that he wanted to get a better look at the injury. When Alucard made no move to pull away or attack, Trevor began undoing the mile of laces on the vampire's boot to slip it off.

There were clear puncture marks on the leather, and they followed straight through to the pant leg and into flesh. Trevor tried to be as delicate as he could in lifting the stuck-on garment, but Alucard still twisted in pain and bit down on his lip to keep from making a loud noise. Trevor grimaced, considered his options, and decided he really needed to see the extent of the injuries, enough to use his knife to cut the pant leg open.

“This would be so much easier if you didn't wear such tight pants.” That won Trevor a sardonic laughー too loud after their hushed conversation, but better than the pained whimpering of before.

The wounds were deep but cleanー a single, straight bite from the looks of it. Nothing seemed or felt broken; the worst of it seemed to come from Trevor aggravating the injury and the running.

Cursing under his breath, and nearly biting off a bit of tongue when a roar overheard made him shut up quickly, Trevor began tearing the ruined scraps of fabric into strips.

“We're going to make a run for the treelineー do you need blood?”

Alucard went so deadly still that Trevor's heart leapt to his throat before realizing the vampire was still very much alive. He was staring at Trevor as if he suddenly sprouted fangs, and Trevor could only return the wide-eyed gaze with a frown. “What?”

“I never thoughtー” Alucard's deep breath sounded almost wet and Trevor's concern raised. “I did not earnー”

“Are you serious ?” Trevor hissed despite wanting to shout, anger boiling from somewhere he didn't know, but easier to hold onto than his previous fear. He tore at the fabric more violently than needed, and focused on wrapping the makeshift bandages tight around the open wounds. “This isn't a game, vampire. There's nothing to win here but getting out of this alive. So do you needー”

“No.” Tone as sharp as the glare given, Trevor let out a hard breath through his nose like an agitated bull.

“You can heal this, then? Preferably soon, because I can't keep rescuing you while trying to stay upright myself.”

“I will manage.”

Trevor didn't believe that one bit, and because he preferred to be agitated with Alucard than worried, he pressed his thumb against the edge of the wound. Alucard started violently, and threw himself back, banging his head on the wall he was leaning back on. The whole structure shook, showering them in dust, but thankfully nothing more solid dislodged. “Try that again, vampire.”

“I do not need nor want your blood, Belmont.” Deep lines marred Alucard’s usually marble-smooth features, concentrated between eyes that were beginning to rim redー honey irises turning a darker shade of amber. It was the first time Alucard looked more beast than beauty, and quickly reminded Trevor just what he was provoking in such a small, cramped space. “If I wanted I would have taken from you long ago and you would have been helpless to stop me.”

And just like that, the bit of trickling fear evaporated and Trevor pressed at the wound again. Alucard started much more violently than before, biting out a curse in a language Trevor didn't know, and banged his head again. It was enough to dislodge an entire stone this time, making the whole structure slide down an inch. Alucard sank down to avoid another injury and consequently ended up pressing closer to Trevor.

Injured leg folded and pressed firmly into Trevor’s lap, the other tucked in against his hip, Alucard was practically straddling one of Trevor's thighs with long, lithe legs open and on display. Trevor had an explicit view of every dip and curveー aforementioned tight pants leaving very little to Trevor’s wild and creative imagination. Eyes instinctively drawn to the bare stripe of skin below his hiked shirt and above his low-hanging pants, pale and smooth and begging for fingers to run acrossー for a curious swipe of tongue. And with the vampire's foot way too close to his groin for his liking, Trevor grabbed his boot and shoved it back on, making sure to do the laces up tight as a makeshift tourniquet. He desperately willed the flush on his cheeks away as he tried to think of anything but the vampire or where the urge had come from in the first place.

“Did you think I would forget the stupid game was your idea? If you're so intent on keeping your fucking pride, fine by me. Get ready to run.”

Gritting through his teeth, Alucard hissed out a strangled “Syphaー” and Trevor was quick to explain the situation there. Alucard nodded though didn't look pleased with the answer, and finally pulled himself into a crouch, both ready to make a line for the woodland just beyond the town boundary.

Trevor waited, tense and exhausted, but knowing what needed to be done. The night was still fairly young, but the dense forest might offer better protection than what could be found in the ruined village. They just needed to survive until morning; simple enough in theory. He spared a thought towards Sypha, hoped she managed to get away from the town at least, before he reached back to grab Alucard by the wrist and lead him away.

[nekolatte]

Chapter 4: Foreboding

Preview: Suspicion was an automatic response these days to any personal question, and though part of him felt bad for snapping so quickly, another bubbled with the start of trepidation. This could be a trick.

---

There was nothing around for milesー nothing but countryside and an odd scent in the air. Some time back, Trevor had been relieved of his driving duties and reluctantly got into the carriage to lay down and rest a bit. Sypha took her turn directing the horses as best she could after brief instruction from Trevor. She seemed to take his advice to not let the horses guide a bit literally, and spoke to them sternly from time to time to keep on the path marked.

“Yes, I know the grass is softer but there could be holes you don't see.”

Trevor snorted quietly.

“...Belmont.”

Startled out of his light doze, though to stubborn to show it, Trevor cracked open a single eye to view the one person he hoped would ignore him for the trip. He pulled a hand out from under his head to gesture at the vampire to hurry along.

Though Alucard did no such thing, instead eyed him curiously, rolling a few words on his tongue without speaking them. Irritation gnawed at Trevor, and he let it out as a huff of airー all he wanted was a play at privacy for a few hours, considering how rare it was to be alone now that he was hitched to two socially-awkward people. Even if Sypha faired better alone than Alucard.

“What?”

“...who taught you to play?”

“Why do you want to know?” Suspicion was an automatic response these days to any personal question, and though part of him felt bad for snapping so quickly, another bubbled with the start of trepidation. This could be a trick.

“Adrien wants to know why you're so good at it.”

Sypha called from up front, eyes still on the road even though there was nothing interesting to see. She wore a small smile, seemingly oblivious to the frown Alucard was throwing at her back. His lip was raised just a bit, exposing a sleek fang, and Trevor pushed down his instinct to attack at seeing that.

“So you admit I’m good at something. This is newー I think I like it.”

Alucard sighed, eyes rolling, looking like they were both plagues upon his patience. “I can acknowledge my betters; it had been wrong of me to assume I had some advantage over you without any evidence.”

Slowly, Trevor sat up. He eyed Alucard, wondered if vampires could get sick, and said as much aloud. It only made Alucard look more prissy than usual and he turned away to glare out to the road.

“I take it back; you're a barbarian like I thought.”

“No, no, no. You can't just take it back.” Revealing just a bit of himself couldn't hurt, right? It was obvious Alucard went to Sypha first to see if his questions would be received without hostility. Trevor knew why he was trying to keep Alucard at a distance, but he never bothered to wonder if Alucard might do the same. Never thought that the vampire would be weary around him enough to reconsider asking him personal questions, even innocent ones.

Breath rushing out like a sigh, Trevor rearranged himself into his previous position and spoke with a nonchalant air, as if mentioning his family still didn't hurt like a knife into the side. “An uncle of mine, actually. My mother was an exceptional player, and taught me the logistics and advantageous formations, but it was my uncle who taught me to play with half the pieces, scattered all over the board. To work with what I was given, because I won't always be able to prepare beforehand. I won't always have all the pieces I need to win.”

The gentle trot of horses filled the quiet that followed, their pace leisurely and calm. It nearly drew him back into a half-asleep state when Sypha's voice drew him back.

“So that's why you can make soldiers out of terrified peasants.”

“I wouldn't put it quite like that, but anyone can hold a stick if given enough guidance and encouragement.”

Silence returned, though pleasant in a way Trevor never would have imagined. It gnawed at him after a while, and he opened his eyes to take a look aroundー perhaps find the reason for his discomfortー and only just caught Alucard looking away from him.

“My father was the one to teach me,” Alucard said after a breath, eyes narrowing a bit to the open field over Sypha's shoulder. “Though I am starting to believe he did not have the patience for it, considering his teachings did not prepare me for this.”

Everything felt heavier at the mere mention of Dracula, though Sypha was quickest at dispelling the tension.

“I don't think there's anyone that can prepare you for Trevor.”

“Hey!”

“You may have a point, Sypha.”

“When we met you, you were expositioning and floating mid-air!”

It was oddー the teasing continued, though it never bordered into cruel. Trevor was at a loss, replying to things automatically but not in his usual manner. He held back his more biting comments, and took the teasing for what it was: playful banter. He was struck then with the idea that maybe these people were trying to integrate him into the bond they already formed with one another. And that lead in turn to Trevor realizing they hadmade a bond with one another when Trevor hadn't been looking.

Sypha had been more welcoming of Alucard from the start, but it wasn't until she started offering her blood that they addressed themselves in a familiar manner. If he hadn't known what it truly looked like, he would have assumed Alucard ensnared her to be more willing to offer that which she wouldn't before. But noー the basis for a friendship was always there; the blood sharing built it stronger.

Would it be the same for him and Alucard? Or would it make their animosity worse?

"Trevor!”

Startled from his line of thought, Trevor turned to find Alucard eyeing him strangely and Sypha trying to keep her eyes both on the road and on him.

“Are we stopping?”

Trevor turned, noticed the fork coming up ahead. A town ways off the main road, deep in the woods. Perhaps Sypha sensed the same thing Trevor did, as his instincts told him not to turn. To stay on the main road where the sunlight bathed it with warmth and safety. But their whole reason for wandering Wallachia was to help people, so against his better judgement, Trevor nodded.

“If it looks like a lost cause, we turn back.”

Sypha looked ready to argue, and probably would have if the trees hadn't begun to creep closer to the road, blocking any natural light.

「×」

The town was in shambles with the heavy stench of death still lingering in the air, but there were signs of life among the rubble. Eyes that watched the trio's approach warily, the horses left far enough back that any fighting would only startle them a bit.

There was nothing left here to defend, and before they could cross the boundary into the town proper, Trevor stopped his companions and turned to face them. Mouth a grim line, he simply shook his head, knowing his meaning got acrossー Sypha looked furious and Alucard looked displeased, both emotions focused on Trevor, as if he was being difficult on purpose.

Before he could try and reason with either of them, Sypha ducked around him and jogged into the clearing of rubble that once might have been the town square. Shadows shifted from within a few of the buildings still standing, but everything remained eerily quiet. Stubborn to a fault, Sypha let her voice be heard, and Trevor winced at how loud she seemed in such a desolate setting.

“We have come to help! We have come to fend back the horde and give you back your homesー your safety. If you will listen to us, if you will heed our advice and warnings, you needn't fear Dracula any longer.”

Approaching with far more caution, Trevor muttered under his breath about how this was a bad idea, and kept a wary eye on the shadows now starting to emerge. A few elderly people, children that outnumbered them and clung to each other, and a handful of able-bodied men and women that were the last to appear. Trevor immediately took stock, surveyed the fieldー everything was tipped against them. There was no way they could fend off one fiend, let alone an army.

A sharp shot of adrenaline rushed through him, panic setting tight in his chest. Trevor felt his breathing quicken, and just as he reached toward Syphaー to grab her and drag her kicking and screaming back to the horses if he had toー a hand clamped tight around his forearm. Fingers a vice, almost bruising even through his layers, and he followed the arm up to Alucard.

No words exchanged, hardly even a gestureー just a slight crinkle of impossibly gold eyes, and the spell was broken when Alucard turned to join Sypha in proving they meant no harm to these suffering villagers. Trevor cursed and went to join them, an uncomfortable weight in his stomach.

[nekolatte]

Chapter Six: Sir Knight

Preview: His smile was charmingー add that to the sparkle in dark eyes and Weiss’s unfamiliarity with the attention of attractive young men on herー and her heart skipped. She cast a glance toward Ironwood, but he was talking with the Knight-Captain once more, and she didn't know why but felt a sting of disappointment.

---

It wasn't that Weiss never ventured out of the castle and into the city proper, but the trips were infrequent and never close to informal, so she hardly counted the ventures. The Knight-General was still nobilityー but nobility hardly seen in the central of Atlas, and was given little fanfare when they passed through the city or entered the Knight Academy. He reassured Weiss they were only meeting a friend of his, and she needn't interact with a soul if she wasn't up to it. But it felt like a test, and was certain she failed it when she shook her head and agreed to meet with a few ranking officers. Ironwood looked surprised but made no comment, instead filling the time with observations and questions of the city around them. Though when it became evident that Weiss’s knowledge of the land that lay just beyond her borders of the castle were lacking, it was dropped entirely.

Weiss was only all too grateful to exit the carriage once they were well within the compound of the Academy, stretching her legs and allowing her curiosity to pull her in small, aborted directions while Ironwood instructed their coachman when to return for their departure.

There was a main path that lead further into the academy and towards the clanging of steel that drew her in, curiosity brimming. She had been far too young the last time a tourney was held within Atlas, and between that and her mother's passing, there was no one to conduct it and bestow a proper gift upon the victor. The maids talked about how lackluster it had beenー with no gallant knight eager to show off and romance a young woman of nobility. Instead there was her father, to reward coin and a title, and everyone went home unsatisfied. Adding that blemish and the war still being fought up north, it seemed no one was eager to conduct another soon.

“James!” A voice boomed and broke through Weiss’s fleeting thoughts, forcing her attention back to why she came here in the first place. She watched as the knight-general and a stranger embrace like old friends, and could only speculate that this was the head instructor by the decoration on his uniform and the grey in his hair. It was the first time Weiss had seen Ironwood genuinely happy to see someone, and the differences between his courteous smiles and this outright grin were astounding. “What brings you down here among us commoners?”

“You're hardly a commoner, Cobalt.” Ironwood's voice was fond and friendly, at odds with his usual demeanor. “I’ve come to see if you're teaching my knights anything worthwhile.”

“Was my last batch not good enough for you, bastard?” Said in obvious jest, Weiss still blanchedー blinking in surprise. Old friends or not, Weiss had heard of nobles hanging people for much less than a few improper words. “Only time I ever see you these days is when you need something. And now you dragged some poor girl out here into the muck and grime without so much as anー”

Finally noticed, as Weiss had stood quiet and a bit behind Ironwood, she instinctively straightened out to appear every bit as regal and proper as her status dictated. The man gave her a single glance over and shut his mouth so quickly it was a miracle he didn't lop off a bit of tongue and turned an alarming shade of white.

In a flurry of gangly limbs, the man immediately bent at the knee in front of her and pressed a fist over his heartー arm held out perpendicular to his body and bowed his head. “Your Royal Highness, this knight begs your forgiveness for his impropriety.” Gone the slight accent and the slurring end to his words, though what caught her attention more were the muffled sounds coming from Ironwood as he turned away from the scene. There was an unmistakable shake to his shoulders. “Had I known Your Highness was visiting, I would have prepared a royal welcomeー”

Realizing she had been used to pull a mean trick, and the guilty look Ironwood showed her after she attempted to ease the poor instructor's fear and quiet his ramblings, she spoke with a tone she heard her father use time and again. Though instead of berating the man as the king would, she politely asked him to stand.

“You had no way of knowing I would be coming. Please do not concern yourself over matters that can no longer be remedied. I am only here as a visitorー a guest of the Knight-General.”

Frantic eyes turned to Ironwood, who simply nodded, back in control of himself, and formally presented the two. “Cobalt, as you know: Her Royal Highness and my lovely new bride, Weiss Schnee. Your Highness: Knight-Captain and head instructor of the Royal Knights, Cobalt Blu. We were friends in our youth and served in a battalion together.”

“A pleasure to formally meet you, Your Highness, and I must apologize once again for not attending the wedding ceremony, but there is still much to prepare for the campaign up north.”

Weiss waved off his apology, and remembered the act she was meant to be playingー convincing people that she was utterly enamored with the Knight-General. “It was dreadfully dull; the only saving grace of the night was your friend willingly taking my hand.”

Both men laughed politely, but Ironwood shook his head and spoke in an utterly warm and fond tone that had her chest twisting up in knots, and the look he gave her nearly made her believe again that none of this was an act. “The other way around, Your Highness.”

“...I’m a bit jealous.”

Weiss immediately turned away as the start of a blush rose to her cheeks from Blu’s innocent comment, hearing Ironwood cough before continuing the idle conversation.

“You were the one that decided a bachelor life suited you best.”

“And I still think that, but I don't think that's what you came down here to talk about.”

The clipped conversation that followed was lost on Weissー talk of supplies and recruits going over her head. Still, she stood there quiet and patient while her gaze wandered, always drawn back to the clang of steel beyond. She knew Winter had trained with a sword before going to the front lines, and wondered just how difficult it would be for her to learn. Though there probably wasn't room for such lessons amongst her many others, and she would only be taught as a performance rather than for actual combat. She sighed wistfully.

“I think we're boring Her Highness, James.”

Startled, Weiss turned back and immediately began protesting, though Ironwood's placating gestures had her calming down before she could really get it in her head that she was doing something wrong.

“I didn't bring you here to have you stand to the side while I talk, Your Highness. I’m sure Cobalt will be more than generous to allow you to wander freely among the grounds.”

“Oh, of course! Though, do be carefulー there's always bits of metal flying around. Perhaps we can find you an escort...” The Knight-Captain frowned out to the distance where a small group of knights were passing by. He called over one specifically by name, and they waited while the young man trotted over in full armorー the Schnee crest polished to a sign upon his chest. “Your Highness, this is Flynt Coal; he can escort you wherever you wish to go. Coal, as you knowー”

As Blu had done so earlier, though with much less hurry and far more gracefully, Coal got down to one knee despite the bulky armorー armored palm braced over his chest and head bowed. “Her Royal Highness, second of her name and heiress to the Atlesian throne, Weiss Schnee. It's an honor to be in your presence, Your Highness.”

To her ear, the spiel sounded flat, but Weiss mentally shook herself free of the wriggling thought, and bowed her head before instructing the knight to rise. “There is no need to be so formal. I am but a guest here.”

“An important one, Your Highness. And one’s whose beauty we rarely get to see.” His smile was charmingー add that to the sparkle in dark eyes and Weiss’s unfamiliarity with the attention of attractive young men on herー and her heart skipped. She cast a glance toward Ironwood, but he was talking with the Knight-Captain once more, and she didn't know why but felt a sting of disappointment.

Sighing to herself, and giving Coal her undivided attention, she offered him a small smile of her own. “You flatter, Sir Coal. Are you just a good of an escort?”

Without a word, he presented his arm to her, which she laid a palm upon the tepid metal, smooth and unblemished beneath her fingertips. He lead her in a slow circle around the main entranceー speaking low to her about the history of the place, the accomplished knights that have walked out the gates and made names for themselves, Ironwood being among them. The guided tour slow going, but there was something practiced to it all that left Weiss uneasy. She didn't dare voice it, as Coal was pleasant enough company for the time being, and managed to pick up on her subtle cues to turn their tour towards the training grounds.

They stayed far enough away to be safe of any flying projectiles, but close enough for Weiss to be mesmerized by the clang and spark of steelー the quick and graceful movements of combatants, even in armor. There were different weapons for different knights: tall, short, stout and lanky, all applying different fighting styles to suit their needs. She had always considered knights to be akin to soldiersー uniform, under one banner. She was horribly wrong.

“Howー” Perhaps it was because she was around someone her own age, who knew of her only as a figure in the distance, that she felt emboldened to ask, or perhaps because there were no prying eyes and ears to report back to her father, but Weiss continued with a manufactured air of indifference. “How long does it typically take to learn how to wield a sword?”

“If my instructor is to be believedー straight away. But if you want to learn how to use it well, then forever. Most learn how to parry within a month.”

The farther they got from the Knight-General and Captain, the less animated Coal seemed to become. She was thankful she hadn't swooned from his earlier smile and then made to feel like a fool now. The uneasiness made sense, tooー it was an act. But rather than let the sleeping snake lie, unknowing if and when it would strike, she thought to prod it out of hiding to see how sinister it meant to be.

“And yourself? How long did it take for you to learn to parry?”

Coal was silent for a moment, and Weiss subtly watched him as his features pinched with barely-concealed emotions. There were words in his mouth he was keeping back by clenching teethー forcing them down after a thick swallow, though they seemed lodged in his throat. “I was very young.”

“I suppose it was the only route open to you.” It was not what was said but how, and Coal didn't miss the subtly. Many knights were nobles by name onlyー third, fourth sons of minor homes wishing to make something of themselves before they were cast out of their family homes by older siblings. A desperate grab to keep status and known luxuries, and the reaction was immediate. She had been right to be wearyー the mask was cast aside in that instant, and Flynt Coal turned upon her with a fury that would have terrified her on a greater man.

The court had leverage over herー they could hinder her reign before she even took the throne, not counting the damage they could do if their gossip reached her father, but one lonely knight had little power to go against her. And Coal seemed to know this, at the very least, because while he stood there in anger, looming over her in his well-polished armor, he did not strike as his shaking fists seemed to want.

“You don't even know who I am, who my family is, do you?”

“Considering you were not deemed important enough to gain an invitation to the royal weddingー no, and I cannot imagine I should care.” It was a cruelty that reflected her father's beliefs more than her own, though she mirrored them now only because she wanted to put this stranger in his place.

That he would think it his privilege to speak to her in such a manner was offensive, and she had every intention of letting him know what she thought of his family, though he had words of his own that had her visibly blanching in shock when he beat her to them. From the incompetence of her father to the lives he's destroying in his pursuit of power, Coal’s own family among them, forced to supply Atlesian soldiers under penalty of death until their village was depleted of resources with no means to pick themselves up againー to Weiss herself, “the Ice Doll” as the peasantry took to whispering out of earshot of any royal guard. Nothing more than an empty vessel for her father's voice, a far cry from the previous Queen who at least had a voice of her own.

Weiss’s fears and insecurities laid bare by a young man that didn't even know her, shaking her already unstable foundations. The order was on her tongue, her face turning red from rage and shameー unable to hide the effect he had on her as a proper heir to the crown should. She had never ordered another's death before, until this point she never thought she would have to, but before the words could be choked out, Coal was shoved out of her line of vision and a happy, if visibly tense, face replaced it.

“H-Hi, Your Highness! I mean, greetings!” In leather armor, the knight’s feminine silhouette was obvious, as was the tail swinging irritably behind her, making Weiss recoil at the sight. She had met only one faunus in her life, long ago and under strict circumstances, yet it was not enough to prepare her for the sight of another.

The tail looked unnatural, as if fixed in place by some demonic power playing god, revolting her like the sight of a pest would. It didn't belong on a human body, and took effort to tear her sight from it as her skin crawled. The faunus in question hadn't missed her reaction, and neither had Coal. He looked ready to speak over the newcomer’s attempt at civility, but a sharp jab between plates of armor had him choking down on the outburst, the new knight smiling through the uncomfortable situation.

“I can only hope that a kind and generous princess, such as yourself, will take pity on Sir Coal’s disrespectful and untoward actions. We are all under stress, you seeー soon to be shipped out, to fight for your glory and honor! Whatever he said was justー” Here she snorted, unladylike in behavior and chivalry. “He was justー heatstroke, ya know?”

Weiss's nose wrinkled, disgust evident. She took a step back, ready to shout for someone to apprehend both, when the faunus caught Coal by the arm and dragged him down to kneel alongside. Both now at her feet, neither making eye contact. It sounded like it pained the faunus to plead, but she did anyway. Mercy for bothー the sole providers that kept their families out of destitution. Whatever Coal had done, because she didn't even know, yet was quick to come to his aid anyway, was not done out of true malice. They were scared of their future and only Weiss had the power to ease some of their worries.

Seeing them now, willing to drag themselves to such lowly status, made pity blossom in her chest. But this was what she had wanted, wasn't it? To see those below her act like they were? Yet it didn't bring her any satisfaction, only a twisted feeling in her stomach that made her mildly ill. She looked off to the side, where a few knights had caught sight of the exchange and openly murmured among themselves. It wouldn't provide good moral to have two of their brothers in arms executed, and it would certainly cause Ironwood troubleー to be forced to side with her decision or outright reject it. She wouldn't put him into such a position, not after their agreed truce.

Sighing to herself, and steeling her nerves, Weiss told both to rise with enough command to broker no hesitation. Then low, for their ears only, she pardoned Coal’s disrespect on one condition: she be taught how to use a blade.

Neon Katt, who recovered first and gave her name after Weiss reluctantly asked for it, spoke with a small measure of awe and confusion. “Why does a princess want to know how to use a sword? That's what we're here for.”

Straightening her back even more, though Weiss was still shorter than both, she put on the airs her position dictated and huffed as if the answer should be obvious. “Because it would be your honor to teach a member of nobility, and to boast of your capabilities and skills.”

Weiss didn't think it imperative to mention that she just wanted to learn and this was the only way she could see it happening. Winter's letter, the subsequent understanding that her father was trying to manipulate her, made the need to know important.

“It is this or the stockade.”

The knights exchanged looks, and while neither looked particularly willing, Coal nodded and Katt agreed aloud.

“You must keep this to yourselves as well.”

“Then how are we supposed to 'boast'ー?” Another jab silenced Coal, who took it with little grace and a round of curses that made Weiss flush, but Katt’s carefree attitude rolled right over him.

“What could possibly go wrong? When do we start!”

[nekolatte]

Dread in the Air

Porcelain sounded like the light chirps of birds in the early morningー pleasant to some, but grating to others. Adam would categorize himself into the latter, though he made no comment as he continued to sip from the rather dainty cup. The material was as smooth as the sound suggested, and it proved difficult to hold onto when it felt like he held only air in his hands. There was no texture for his fingers to catch ontoー no grains, cracks, or imperfections like unglazed earthenware that carried the echoes of the potter that sculpted the pieces into existence. This cup was bland and generic like the humans that mass-produced it, and it took effort not to smash it and its accompanying plate to the ground.

Before temptation could take proper hold, Adam set both items down on the table to his leftー a challenge he tackled slowly and carefully, thankful to have it finally out of the way now that he drank enough of the tea given to be considered polite. Sienna, sitting adjacent, scoffed a not-unkind laugh, causing Adam to turn partially in her direction. She had yet to speak, even after calling him back to headquarters with an urgency and force that beget no argument. He expected ordersー updates. New recruits better trained in subtly and sabotage. He was greeted with a tea party, instead.

"If you could see the frown on your faceー"

"Why am I here, Leader Khan?"

"Always to the point." The chirping birdsー fabric that rustled like a rushing water fall muffled behind miles of dense trees. "Then I will be blunt. Your actions are borderingー no, they are far more radical and destructive than I ever had intended, Adam. When I suggested we oppose our oppression with violence, I never meant to bring harm to the innocent. I've been receiving increasingly troublesome reports of you attacking civilian settlemeー"

"They're humanー" The word spat like a curse, toxic on his tongue. Anger boiled deep in his chest, and he held it back with all the control he could muster.

"And they have no political sway in the matter of our civil rights!" Sienna's remark was sharp like a whip, forcing Adam to back down. "You make enemies and martyrs of what could be our only allies among humans. You needlessly put our people in danger! You are doing Their work by sending our young to the slaughter. Effective immediately you and your squadron are to withdraw from Mistral. They will be reassigned, and you will be put on indefinite leave until I figure out what to do with you."

Hands on knees clenched, knuckles bright white as bones creaked from the strain. Adam could feel a molar loosen from the harsh gnawing of teeth, but he stayed silent. The rage inside threatening to spill, but he kept it down along with his head, breath coming out hard and fast until it slowed to something a bit more leveled with surmountable effort.

"...May I ask a question, Leader Khan?"

Adam was met with silence, though even from the space between them, he could hear Sienna's heart jump. It sped, though her breathing stayed controlledー her composure never breaking. It was something he respected and endeavored to replicate in himself, even if his temper was always simmering on the surface.

"What is it?"

The silence lingered as Adam attempted to put his feelings to wordsー to make sense of the betrayal he felt, having been one of few to originally and wholeheartedly support Sienna's ideals and her rise to power. Her words of anger and desperation for a better world for themselves touched him in a way that Ghira's complacent peace never didー they inspired him to look past his handicaps and make something of himself. To rise and try, again and again, despite the pain and impossibility of his dreams. To become a weapon for their cause, and a shield for those still to young to understand how unjust the world was truely.

The humans crowned themselves kings, but it didn't mean they had to remain in power. Not when they abused those they lorded over, not when they forced faunus into working dangerous conditions with poor compensation or risk suffering a worse fate. If the hunger didn't kill first, the Grimm drawn to the misery finished the job. Adam, a victim himself of capitalist greed, was forced to decide whether to be a burden upon his already-struggling family, or remove himself from being another mouth the feedー to shove the responsibility of supporting the family on the next oldest, who had not even reached thirteen yet. Forced to hear his mother cry at night because there was no way to stretch the money given upon his father's death, and the neighbors couldn't afford to share their meager batch of crops any longer. Forced to hear her lament not having followed the late Taurus into death.

But Sienna made him believe they would be heard now; that their cause would be taken seriously now and could no longer be politely ignored. Through the initial upheaval of command, Adam was there. Through the violent shift of ideals, Adam was there to make their people hear to reason, parroting Sienna's words that others may believe them as much as he did. And Sienna, with a growing target on her back, trusted him with her safety, and later with his own command. There was no leader better for the White Fang had been his opinion from the very start. Someone must have thought the same of Ghira too.

"When did you lose your way?"

"Whaー" Sienna's indignation was cut short with a blade through her chest, Wilt humming as it absorbed the force of Sienna's struggle and anger, too stubborn to die quickly. But even as adrenaline pumped through her veins like a roaring stream, as her aura pushed out and flickered like static before a thunderstorm, her heart was weakening by the second.

"I promise you, Sienna, the violence will end with me, even if I must burn all of Anima down around me." His voice was lowー wrecked. His hands shook, even as he leaned his weight forward to plunge the blade deeper, earning a choked gurgle from Sienna. She reached, clawed and scratched, talons piercing his coat to reach the skin beneath. And Adam allowed it, if only to stay close to her in these final moments. For the first time since the incident, Adam was thankful for his inability to see the violent act he was committing. "I will bury you alongside your family; I will bring you peace."

Sienna made one final noise that sounded like his name, and finally went limp in her seat. With great care and reverence, Adam pulled the blade free and returned it to its sheath, making as little damage as possible upon its release. He couldn't see the corpse, but he could smell the blood as it stained cloth and gave it a different scent, erasing what had made Sienna unique and rendering her indistinguishable from the many other bodies he brought to an end.

But it was a necessity if all their work was meant to mean something. If even she could not push as far as they needed to go to achieve their true freedom, then it only made sense that Adam needed to lead. He didn't want to; he had never wanted to be such a focal point of the organization. When he was young, he daydreamed of a quiet existenceー just himself and his apple orchard, far away from both humans and faunus, and now he was here.

Forcing the trembles to stop, Adam lifted Sienna into his arms, cradled her slowly-cooling body to his chest, and walked them both to the throne room to declare the news.

[nekolatte]

Chapter 3: Strategy

Preview: “You hardly ever spoke three words to Adrien before, and suddenly you're teasing him like a school boy with a crushー”

“I am not teasing him; I am making fun of himー there is a difference!”

---

“Queen to E4.”

“You really suck at this.”

“Trevor .”

“What? He really suー” A hard smack to the shoulder stopped Trevor's reiteration, though by the surly look Alucard sported, it did what it was meant to do.

They were leaving another town with the knowledge to defend itself, this one a tad more grateful ー enough that they had horses and a carriage to spare for the wandering group. Never mind what became of their owners, the beasts had a new home and seemed content with getting away from a town that smelled of rotting flesh and sulfur.

Trevor didn't blame the beasts, and urged them a bit faster. Sun was starting to set, and they had yet to find suitable shelter.

“You play nonsensically, Belmont.”

Movement in the carriage stole Trevor's attention, and with the road quiet and empty save for chittering animals in the brush at either side of them, Trevor turned to find Alucard sitting much closer to them. The vampire always shied from the early and noon sun, but seemed at ease in the later evening. Trevor wondered if it had to do with his split heritage, but asking was too close to bonding , and Trevor was still making an effort at keeping the vampire at a distance.

“It's called strategy.”

“Your strategy is to completely confuse your opponent into submission?” Sypha was all smiles when Trevor turned to look, but he didn't trust it for a second.

“It's working, isn't it?”

No one deemed his statement worthy for comment, and the group fell into silence once more, broken only when Sypha pointed out a dilapidated shack some ways off the road. Better than sleeping in the carriage, Trevor guided the horses to the small home, and while he unhitched them, Alucard and Sypha took to exploring. He was in the middle of combing down the pinto, thankfully finding supplies in the carriage, when Sypha emerged from within the home, spotted him in the small corral fixed next to it, and joined him beneath the alcove.

“Verdict?” He asked without looking up from his task.

“Decent enough; we have slept in worse. At least it doesn't reek of death.” Sitting up on the railing, Sypha made no motion to help him brush out the solid, seemingly content with just watching.

Trevor tried not to take offense, and just continued to work. Lost in the repetitive motions, watching sweat-slick hair come into a brilliant shine ー the horse seemingly content to stay and receive the attention. His family's horses were very different beasts, bred for their tenacity and bravery, though having the unfortunate temperament of a self-important bully that would not allow the meek and unsure to even approach them. A young Trevor being one.

“What are you doing?”

It took Trevor a moment to realize a question was being asked, and yet another to realize it was being asked to him, suddenly blinking out of his daze to find dusk had set, with a lantern he didn't know they had flickering against the mild winds at the edge of the corral, and someone had swapped the pinto for the solid. The animal seemingly realizing Trevor had come back from wherever his mind had wandered to, politely trotted off to the other end of their pen to feed on the overgrown grass with its companion. Trevor watched it go before turning back to Sypha, who looked just a bit concerned.

“...I was brushing the horse?” He gestured with the comb still in his hand before dumping the item into the bag with the other supplies for the horses. Out of the corral and towards the entrance to the home, Trevor spotted a bucket of water thatlooked clean, and used that to wash his hands. Sypha followed after him, the little frown still stuck on her face, and Trevor resisted the urge to snap that he hadn't done anything wrong on pure instinct. “What?”

Her arms folded over her chest, and her gaze was piercingー all bright gem tones that were only just eerie in the dim light. And Trevor realized if she planned on killing him, there was little he could actually do against a mage , and a powerful one at that. But if he was quick enoughー

“You and Adrien.”

Oh.

“Oh.” Trevor, realizing that that didn't explain much at all, looked to her in confusion as he wiped his hands dry on his pants. “What about us?”

“You're up to something! These games, the animal blood. You suddenly being friendly.”

“I’m not friendly!” The retort lost and ignored as Sypha continued.

“You hardly ever spoke three words to Adrien before, and suddenly you're teasing him like a school boy with a crushー”

“I am not teasing him; I am making fun of himー there is a difference!”

“If you plan on hurting him in any way, Belmont, we are going to have some serious words.”

“What are you, his sister?”

“He has been alone all this timeー probably never even had a true friend, and here you come, all wild charm and gruffness! A horrible, terrible influenceー”

“Oh, no wait, you're his mother.”

“The three of us are needed to defeat Dracula, if I need to remind you.”

Trevor threw up his arms, muttering out to the heavens in hopes they had better hearing than Sypha. “For the love of God.”

“And if you get us sidetrackedー”

“I am the one trying to keep us on the track!”

“Then all of Wallachia suffers because you couldn't make use of your hand insteadー”

“I make plenty use of my hand!” The outburst out of his mouth and too late to put back, Trevor stayed silent for a moment, staring at Sypha’s raised eyebrows, before he turned away to glare out at the darkened field behind the home. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“No, you shouldn't have.”

Both Trevor and Sypha nearly jumped out of their skins at the additional voiceー Sypha with a hand clutching the robes over her thundering heart and Trevor with a hand already going on the whip on his belt. When Alucard merely looked on with a bland expression, leaned on the windowsill with both arms folded on top of the rotting wood, they relaxed marginally.

“These walls are paper thin. And we are alone for miles around.And, you know, vampire hearing.”

Sypha had the decency to look chastened, a soft blush on her cheeks. She muttered something that sounded like an apology before stalking inside, Trevor lingering without an ounce of shame. Though an awkward tension sprung, one he did not enjoyー if Sypha interpreted his jokes as teasing, was Alucard doing the same?

Best put a stop to that now, doing it the only way Trevor knew how.

Sauntering to the sill Alucard was leaning on from within the home, a planter box between them that probably had medicinal herbs once and now was nothing but dry, packed earth, Trevor let his voice drop and a sultry smirk pull at his lips.

“Are you falling for my wild charm, vampire?”

Alucard made a face like someone shat right in front of him, scooped it up in their palms, and tried to present it as a gift right under his nose. He recoiled violently, a hiss flowing between pointed incisors, and stalked away from the window, further into the house where a warm glow came from now.

Snorting, to hide the hurt that his best attempt at flirting was somehow always his worst , Trevor put out the small lantern and went inside to get away from the cold.

[nekolatte]

Chapter 2: Dreaming

Preview: He wasn't pushing Dante off, but seemed to be trying to hold onto him. And if that didn't call to Dante’s soft, human part, nothing would.

---

Dante was certainly in a pickle. 

Spread out on his desk was every item he found on his patient's person: standard things that weren't really worrying like keys, extra ammo, and nondescript pills. Though Dante had to raise an eyebrow at the grenade, and keep himself from cursing loudly at the ID with the presidential crest and Leon's stoic face staring back at him. He would've made a joke about the guy needing to smile once in a while, but Dante couldn't drag any residual humor from his stores for this. He hadn't been trying to scare the guy when he said outside involvement would only make things worseー demons didn't take kindly to bullets in the face. And he doubted they had a holy-blessed arsenal like Lady. Sure, any competent priest could make holy water, but only a really good one could bless a missle.

If Leon really was sent here officially , then he would need to report back. Someone was waiting for that call; someone with the power to send more somebodies in search of Leon. More people to get in the way, and more people Dante had to keep an eye on. It would be so much easier to let the city burn and find himself a nice, secluded beach to retire toー too bad he felt responsible. He missed the days when the gigs were just for fun.

Taking Leon’s entire wallet, Dante wandered towards the back of the shop, into the kitchen and to the corded phone hanging next to the fridge. He knew the number from memory, though still hesitated with the phone cradled against his shoulder, and a finger poised over the faded buttons. It wasn't that he was afraidof Lady, but he had taken her half of their last paycheck to pay off his rent without letting her know beforehand, and the threat of castration she threw at him had sounded very real. Still, Trish had a point: Lady would know what was going on, or, rather, had a better chance of knowing.

Before he could change his mind, Dante punched in the numbers and forced himself to suppress any instinct of hanging up as the phone rang and connected. A groggy voice greeting him with a mix of confusion and ire, and Dante couldn't help his smile. “Good morning, Sunshine. I need your help.”

《“Dante? It'sー it's three in the morning. What is wrong with you?”》

“He's asleep and it's the only time I can call.”

《“Whoー?”》

Dante brought up ID and read off the name though he memorized it already. “Leon Scott Kennedy, US Strategic Command.”

《“Wー USSTRATCOM?”》

“You're just making sounds.”

《“That's the president’sー!”》

“Yeah, I got that from the freedom bird staringー”

《“Dante, shut up.”》

He hated that he immediately did.

While Lady seemed to be rummaging around on her end, Dante wandered to the fridge and looked through it's empty contents as if something would manifest if he thought hard enough. He would have to feed Leon something when he finally woke up, but outside frozen pizza and Hot Pockets, Dante wasn't exactly a culinary genius. He wondered if his usual pizza place still sold those soup-in-a-bread-bowl things, and was pulled from the half-thought of searching for the menu when a cold chill ran down his spine.

Like a hound on guarding duty, Dante's head swiveled over to the disturbance, feeling his breath freeze in his lungs and his blood run hot. He murmured a goodbye to a protesting Lady, and ran towards the front roomー bursting through the swinging door to see a bird composed of snowy white feathers sitting on top of an absolutely-still Leon. The very warmth was sucked out of the room, frost clinging to everything, and Dante's steps crunched lightly underfoot, though the bird made no sign of hearing him. Dante's first thought was to wonder how it got inー his next was to wonder what it was doing to Leon.

The answer revealed when he seemingly got too close for the creature’s comfort, its head twisting to face himー flat and blank save for a swirling black vortex where an ungodly screech punctured the night and rattled Dante’s teeth. The creature’s neck twisted in a tight circle, stretching out like putty right at Dante. In an instant, Ebony was out and firing a roundー aim precise and completely missing Leon, though the demon was fast and evaded with a flap of its huge wings.

With its talons out of Leon, the man in question began trembling, though still did not rouse. Even shouting his name wasn't earning any type of reaction, and the trembles only got worse the further the demon attempted to flee. It spotted its exitー a window recently broken from the second storyー and made a straight line for it. Another shot, aimed at the spot where the demon would be, proved useless as it changed directions midair without much drag. At least it got the thing away from the window, though now it looked for another way out.

Dante's shop had never been organized , but there had always been some fitting aesthetic in the madness. The creature now was just making madness , as it crashed and knocked into everything that wasn't too heavy to move, and Dante was done.His patience was gone, which was a rarity, as Dante often took punches without even the vaguest prickling of indignation. He wanted to chalk it up to the destruction of his shop, and not because someone under his care had been put in dangerー was still in danger.

Rebellion was snatched from its casual lean against his desk and, after vaulting the piece of furniture, Dante had the weapon sweeping in a wide arc within the cramped space. The blade sung as blood coated its steel, and the demon crumpled to the ground with a sliced chest and a lopped-off wing. It still attempted to move away, screeching its final wail until Dante ran the sharp tip of his blade across the thing’s stretched neck, and it had the decency to dissolve into smoldering ashes as it died.

Somewhere behind Dante, Leon drew in a sharp breath, and it was mildly embarrassing how quick Dante was to be at his side: assessing injuries, old and new, and trying to calm the frantic man down. But Leon was looking around wild-eyed and dazed, as if not really seeing his environment and still lost in whatever memories the demon had put inside his head.

“Hey, hey, hey. Leonー Leon, listen to me.” Dante kept his tone even, low. The palm on Leon’s shoulder gently trying to guide him back down, though Dante struggling himself to not break the man with too much force. Leon was shaking his head and fighting him, grasping at Dante’s sleeve, trembling fingers constantly losing their grip and scrambling to find it again. He wasn't pushing Dante off, but seemed to be trying to hold onto him. And if that didn't call to Dante’s soft, human part, nothing would.

A palm found Leon’s cheek, directed his wild gaze onto Dante as he waited patiently for some flicker of understanding in bright blue eyes. It took a while, with Leon muttering words and phrases that made no sense to Dante, but now was not the time to pry. Instead he spoke soft yet firm, hand moving to the man’s shoulder to squeeze it. “Everything's okay, Leonー you were dreaming. That's all it was; you're safe here.”

Leon sighed, seemed to come back more into himself as the seconds trickled, and nodded, finally letting Dante go to slip back onto the couch with a wince. He closed his eyes, and wrapped an arm where the demon had been perched on moments before. “Just a dream…”

“Yeah. Only a dream.” Dante waited until Leon nodded off again, until his heart beat evened out, and slipped his coat off his shoulders to drape it over the sleeping man. It wouldn't protect him from another essence-eater, but it gave Dante some odd ease of mind that allowed him back into the kitchen to continue his talk with Lady.

[nekolatte]

A.Taurus

In anticipation for a narrative I’m going to write for Adam Taurus, I thought I’d write this thing out first. To put it bluntly: I hate what RT has done with Adam; he had the capability of being a very complicated and morally-grey character, but they shoved him down the path of generic fuck-boy villain, and I honestly justー ugh. Whatever. SO! I’m going to lay down some points where my Adam will differ from canon (and some personal headcanons), so anyone happening upon my stories where he makes an appearance will understand why he acts differently.

I’m not here to absolve him of his crimes. I’m not even trying to make him sympathetic; I just want to fit him in a narrative that makes the most sense to me and better plays off the characters he’s seen interacting withー without further ado: the red bull.

• Adam is blind. Not fully, but enough that he might as well be fully for all the good it does him. His other senses have been trained and honed to compensate his disability, something that took years to master alongside his swordsmanshipー the two intimately intertwined that Adam is using his blade as a crutch.

• The accident that took his eyesight occured around the age of 15, when working in the Dust mines. A load of fire Dust exploded from poor handling, causing damage to his face (eyes in particular, because we are still being extra dramatic here) and hands. In a state of panic, he healed over the embedded shard crystals, which caused his skin to scar. When taken to a proper healer, there was nothing they could do to reverse the damage, only make the pain fade.

• He was compensated by Schnee Dust for his injuries, and took offense that his eyesight and ability to function normally had a price tag. He still harbors this resentment, and it only grows.

• Blake was sympathetic to his plight, and one of the few people he allowed to help him when he was just starting to learn how to live his life without his eyesight. They met when Ghira stood in as an attorney to negotiate with Schnee Dust for the accident at the mine that left many injured and a few dead. She acted as his guding cat until he had more confidence in himself.

• It wasn’t until Sienna began gaining popularity among the faunus who were resenting Ghira’s peaceful approach towards the Schnees that Adam took more initiative in his training. He was completely devoted to her cause, her every word taken to heart, that she accepted him into her immediate circle of influence.

• Adam went from being an apathetic to the faunus plight to obsessed with it in less than ten years. Whenever a tactic of Sienna’s wouldn’t garner enough attention for their presence to be taken seriously, he pushed for more. It was a gradual incline.

• He had a bit of dry humor before his accident, though kept to himself unless approached. Friendly enough and willing to help anyone that directly asked. After the accident, he became antisocial, fell into depression, and violently lashed out at anyone showing him pity. (Blake was one of the few people that knew how to navigate and negate his mood swings.) Once in the White Fang, he became much more reserved, attentive, and quiet to better take in the world around him.

• Though his enrollment into the White Fang, now spearheaded by Sienna, was mostly due to revenge, he became sympathetic to other faunus who had similarly been affected by the Schnees and shouldered their revenge too, whether they asked or not.

• He now firmly believes a faunus’s life is more important than that of a human, and though he will kill a faunus that stands in his way of progress, he will do so quickly, and respectfully lay their body to rest. He leaves humans to fall wherever they mayー man, woman, or child.

• Coming from a large family, he wanted peace more than anything. He wanted to own an apple orchard away from the faunus settlement he was born into, and live his life quietly. He never actively wanted to lead the White Fang, though no one seemed inclined to go to the extremes they needed to, and took the burden on himself.

• He couldn’t cry over Sienna’s death, but he wanted to while he was doing it. He also didn’t monologue or sit on her throne like a dick.

• The only thing he told Blake during the battle of Beacon was “You should’ve kept running. It’s the only thing you’re good at.” There was no weird “"darling”“ shit. TF was that even.

• Wilt absorbs Adam’s semblance and pointedly directs it, though any item can be used. It won’t survive the outcome, but can be used in a pinch. If no weapon is present, the stored power will violently explode around Adam as a shockwave in all directions.

And then there’s all the new stuff that I kind of stopped watching because the show is going all over the place and eh. I still like the characters, though. This will probably be updated as I remember more things, but ALREADY I hope some of you can see what I want to do with him.

[nekolatte]

Chapter 5: Stage Center

Preview: He wasn't playing a part when he gave her innocent compliments or praise, or whenever he whispered casual observations of his surrounding to her as if they were secrets she was allowed to be privy to, and it made her feel special.

---

They had spoken about their arrangement well into the nightー what was allowed, what wasn't, and what they had to give or put up with to make their farce work. It seemed they both shared a singular stance on their marriage bed: it would be left well enough alone and never shared unless under dire circumstances. Which played in Weiss’s favor; it meant she wouldn't be forced to bear a son for a man she was uneasy around.

Around the late hour, Weiss had reluctantly agreed to share his room for the sake of convenience and to begin the illusion. Gradual steps that would not look out of place as Weiss and Ironwood grew to find some semblance of calm around one another. It took Weiss the most effort of the two to smother her instinctive reactions to chaste kisses on the head and a hand on the small of her backー to not flinch and pull away every time Ironwood so much as looked at her. A natural escalation, it seemed, because her father took the effort to pay closer attention to them both as the days dragged on, and the straggling nobles whispered more fervently among themselves. Ironwood observed as much as Weiss took to showing him around the castle’s treasured gardens with her arm wound through his. The plots of crystal-like flowers and saplings glistened under the glow of blue-fire torches situated around the grounds, strong and resistant against the light snowfall and mild winds.

“What now?” Weiss found herself asking under wispy, white breath, her free hand reaching out to trace gloved fingertips beneath an opaque leaf. When she was young, she had always imagined they were made of ice, easily melted under a curious touch, and feared going near them lest they all wilt in her presence.

“We have to be more cautious than ever.”

With a delicacy she was becoming familiar with, Ironwood lifted her chin with the barest of direction and pressure, twisting his large body to block her from the view of the castle. He bent forward to finalize the illusion, and spoke only for her to hear. “You didn't flinch this time; well done.”

No longer did she blush horribly at the charade of kissing Ironwood, or when his hand engulfed hers completely whenever it was held. But her stomach always seemed to flutter whenever he spoke kind words to her, because she couldn't find the lie in them. He wasn't playing a part when he gave her innocent compliments or praise, or whenever he whispered casual observations of his surrounding to her as if they were secrets she was allowed to be privy to, and it made her feel special.

A dangerous thought, when all this was meant to be an act. She kept her disquiet to herself, and showed him the luminescent flowers further into the gardens. He spoke of himself very infrequently, and she was finding that he had certain topics he attempted to avoid entirelyー her mother being one. But whenever talk of Hyperion came around again, he was always eager to speak of his dukedom’s accomplishments, of the strength of his army and the culture they maintained. It sounded horribly mundane in comparison to the extravagance of the central kingdom, but the enthusiasm in which Ironwood boasted was endearing all on its own.

“I can only hope we will make it back in time for the Dunacht festival, or it will be the first I have ever missed.”

Weiss's wretched heart leap at the mere implication of ‘we’ー of being taken from her home and given another. Somewhere with more freedom, away from her father and the court and their suffocating standards. She said nothing, in case it be only a slip of the tongue, and led them to an alcove created by crystal trees shrouding a stone bench. She untangled her arm from his to sit, and he followed soon afterー pressed right to her side, sharing his warmth and protecting her from the chilled winds.

It would be easy to lean into him; to take his hand and twine their fingers. To pretend there was something more here, but this was all they would ever be. Weiss needed to learn to make her peace with it and be thankful it wasn't something worse.

“Where did I lose you?”

His voice so close to her ear that it gave her a fright, making Weiss jump up and away, clutching her fur coat tighter around herself as if it could shield her from the attack. She had all but a moment of panic before she realized what happened, with Ironwood looking as harmless as he could possibly make himself, which made her blush all the more hotter.

“I apologize; I wasn't paying attention.” Quick to reprimand herself internally, Weiss bowed her head in hopes he wouldn't see the bright color of her face.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Ironwood shake his head, massive shoulders rising and falling with a silent sigh. “I've been controlling the conversation for too long, haven't I? Lady Winter insists I ramble.”

“What? No!” Her outburst shocked them both, though Weiss was infinitely more embarrassed over it. She was quick to sit properly, self-conscious of every awkward angle of her body. “I… actually like hearing you talk.”

The burst of laughter that followed was unexpected, forcing Weiss out of her stiff posture to glance over to the man attempting to hold his humor in. He hid only his smile behind a gloved hand, though she could see a corner of it peeking over his thumb. It didn't seem malicious, though with no real experience to compare it to, Weiss felt momentarily lost in the exchange, unable to find her footing.

“I will consider it a compliment.”

A grumble turned to frost in the air, Weiss turning toward Ironwood more to properly view him. “Wait a minuteー”

“An odd one, surely, but the first I have been bestowed upon by my lovely wife.”

The pointed words made her chest ache, realizing this had all been a play for a wandering maid or a spying noble, and Weiss did her best to not let the disappoint show. Instead, she fell back on her knowledge of romance novels read in the dark of night, under the incandescent light of Dust crystals and out of sight from her various tutors. He teased, so she was meant to tease back.

“The best I can do for a man that has yet to pay me a single one.” The playful smile on her features felt forced, and for a moment she feared she may have played the entire scenario wrong when the silence stretched and Ironwood’s amusement vanished. About to speak, unknowing how she planned on filling the silence but knowing she had to, Ironwood beat Weiss to it with a tentative sort of murmur, casting a glance to the gardens.

“I haven't.” It wasn't a question, but Weiss still felt compelled to answer. Again, before Weiss could respond, he spoke first. “Would you care to join me today? I am visiting the knight academy, and I would enjoy more of your company.”

Thinking someone was still spying on them, Weiss saw no polite way to refuse, and gave an enthusiastic nod followed by a tiny smile. “I would be thrilled.”

The vacant look to his eyes ebbed away, and he seemed to calm. Ironwood reached over, his large palm scooping up her hand, and gently placed his other one over it. His fingers squeezed. “You do me an honor, Princess.”