#and also alucard getting melancholy

[mysteryanimator]

Hi there. I’ve seen your posts where you’ve analysed the scenes with Olrox and Mizrak shot by shot. As someone who is into media and is perusing a career in filmmaking, I absolutely loved them! I was wondering if you were planning to do any more of those? Either from season 1 or some from season 2? I think it would be very interesting to see what we can gleam from that.

Thank you so much, it means a lot that you (and everyone else) enjoy these breakdowns a lot!

Major disclaimer once again, I am a student still reapplying all of what I know to shows I enjoy since this is a field I do want to enter. If want to enter it I should probably know how and why it is done in said shows HAHA There are sooo many scenes I want to break down in season 02, the very obvious being Mizrak and Olrox's moments in episode 08, along with every scene they have in that season together! Funnily enough, I'm almost just really drawn to other scenes like Tera and Olrox's interactions (the colours paired with dialogue is the coolest thing ever), and the walk across town with Mizrak and Maria. Also Mizrak throughout the show and how they foreshadowed him being a vampire from the start of season 2 via deliberate shot choices. As you can tell I'm jumping all over the place unable to choose one direction to break down haha (omg especially a parallel between Richter/Annette and Olrox/Mizrak because they do mirror each other not only narratively but also shots too)

Actually, let's poll for that and I'll go from most popular to least popular :D

Also because I don't think I'll cover Mizrak and Emmanuel's conversation (it's chalked with some really nice shot choices) I'm just going to put here how pretty the colors are. Just in general a lot of the night scenes that are this type of blue is something I'm super drawn to in this show. It's so vibranttttt~

Also blue not only signifies night, but mourning/ melancholy/ depression/ despair

Like look how the canvas is split, separating Mizrak from Emmanuel! The trees act to barricade them because Emmanuel refuses to change, even up until death. Symbolized by him being hunched over the cross. A grave. Emmanuel has given up and visually, Mizrak is literally looking down at him. Emmanuel can't even face Mizrak because of his lack of confidence and cowardice to that is an alternate path he can choose, but he won't.

Also funnily enough, both these characters die. HOWEVER. Emmanuel dies out of cowardice and tries to fight death, and technically, Mizrak does too, but his admittance of being afraid is the bravest thing he has ever done (I'll go in-depth if/when I cover episode 08, it was one of the first things I picked up after my first watch, very interesting!)

Anyway sorry for the ramble, hope you enjoyed this tiny analysis of this one shot :D Lemme know if there are any other scenes/shots, in particular, you want me to cover quickly in the long format as well! Either or, I enjoy shot analysis a lot! Hopefully let's see if I can also apply any of the storyboard knowledge I get from these because I know how to apply them to my work, whether or not I can recognize it in the show, which will be a very fun challenge!

[ifishouldvanish]

Until the Sun Rises Again: Chapter 6

SHIP: Alucard/Olrox, Olrox/Olrox's Unnamed Past Lover

SUMMARY: After narrowly escaping Erzsebet's forces in Machecoul, Alucard brings everyone to the castle to rest and develop a new plan of action. But as strangely familiar as Belmont and the others feel, there's one person who confounds him:a vampire by the name of Olrox.

TAGS: Getting Together, A lot of speculating on Olrox's backstory, i just think the two centuries-old vampires who have each loved and lost should smooch, Eventual Smut, but for now just melancholy vibes and longing guess

---

Stockbridge, Massachusetts • May 1775

Olrox stirred as the bed shifted under Samuel's weight. It was early morning, the room cast in the grey-blue hues of dawn, and Samuel had just sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Olrox watched as he rubbed his eyes and bent down to pick up his breeches from the night before. With the silver bullet taken out of his side and a fresh rabbit to suck dry, Olrox's wounds had healed completely in a matter of hours–leaving them with the better part of the evening to get better acquainted.

He'd learned that Samuel's grandmother was their Sachem, or leader–though really more of a figurehead under the white man's occupation. Learned that Samuel himself bore the title of her Owl, and in a less official capacity, the responsibilities of her Runner. It was clear that the white men were writing these titles off as merely symbolic as well–but Olrox could tell they were far more powerful than that. They were positions of knowledge, connections, and influence; the kind of respect that was built from the ground up, and rather than bequeathed from above.

He'd also learned that Samuel had a scar on his shoulder, a little dimple in the flesh just above his buttocks, and made the most delightful sounds when you nibbled on his ear.

“Headed out so soon?” Olrox asked.

Samuel stilled and looked over his shoulder at him.

“I was hoping we might do that again,” Olrox purred, trailing a finger down his bare back and admiring the red marks his nails had left there with satisfaction.

A smile spread across Samuel’s face. “Tpuskawihnaaw aahunukwih-anawiimuk,” he said, with the sort of playful gleam in his eyes that indicated he knew perfectly well that Olrox had no idea what he'd just said. He let him stare blankly for a few seconds before switching to English: “I would love to. But all the best game’ll be out now, and the people have to eat.”

“And you're the only one who can feed them?” Olrox demured.

[Continue on AO3]

[ruiniel]

First Snow

Fandom: Castlevania Series (2017-2021)

Rating: G

Relationship: Alucard/Greta of Danesti

Characters: Alucard, Greta of Danesti

Count: 2.1k

Also on AO3

Additional Tags: First Kiss, Snowball Fight, Winter, Inspired by Castlevania, Post-Castlevania Season IV, Fluff without Plot, Pining, Greta POV

Summary: Published in 2021, from a time with winter #gretacard feels.

Wallachia, winter of 1476

Early December saw their first sweep of abundant snow as a sudden, restless winter took over the lands, but work and commotion never ceased. Greta walked among the people bundled in their fleece caps and winter coats, heading to and fro, milling about paths battered by frequent use. Thick smoke billowed in the air from newly built chimneys, and there were small fires started here and there, where spicy mulled wine frothed in dark cauldrons for all to share.

The winter holidays would soon be upon them, and the headwoman of Belmont looked gladly on their efforts, which yielded an already habitable location months after moving here and starting their lives anew. The fresh snow fallen in the night now clung like soft fluff to her leather boots, and her breath came misted white in the cold. She walked bundled in her own beige fleece coat, her hair braided back from her face and a green woollen cap pulled over her ears for added protection.

She sought left and right, searching for him — as she often did lately, it seemed. But, as with many other occasions, Alucard was the one who knew the details needed to help them move forward with another current predicament, namely designating which extra chambers they could convert to house some families whose dwellings were still unfinished. He repeatedly said his home was theirs, but she always asked. No one had ever given them so much, freely, without expecting a manner of recompense. It had always been so, from the monster hunters her people were forced to hire in times past to the communal authorities that never gave a damn about Danesti, a wide spot in the road to them where wandering people settled like driftwood.

Besides, Greta didn’t grudge the extra time spent in his presence, even for necessity’s sake. Some time had passed, and like those frightful bloodied nights spent reaching his castle, she’d seen Alucard change with the last, painful visions of his parents, the return of his friends, the deepening of their relationship. They were everything to him, and he had no blood relatives left to speak of. It was a particularity Greta shared, and one that made her see beyond his calm demeanor that grey, lingering sadness. It was in his smile, his eyes. She doubted it would fade for a while yet, but, as had been her thought at the beginning, Alucard did get used to them all being here. He thrived among them with every new spark in his eyes whenever a problem to solve presented itself, and Greta had learned he liked to be of use to others, to share, to create. It burned through his melancholy like embers through spider silk as they built fresh memories together, whether it was baby Simon hugging him and nibbling at his hair or the children asking to be flown around, or learning to make good polenta from the elder women. Greta smiled, and wondered again how much time had passed since her words to him that neither had ever acted upon.

I think I might like you.

She shook free of that admission, his wavering smile, the feel of his warm fingers on her skin. It was easy to brush it off as ephemeral attraction and craving spanning from a loneliness that had clambered over her heart and dug itself beneath her breast bones, and would not budge. Alucard had seen enough emotional turmoil that she wouldn’t, couldn’t, push for her own possibly one-sided needs and risk hurting him — and herself — in the process.

A sharp wind roiled across the skies, disturbing the clinging snow from the branches. It fell in ice sprinkles over her cap, dusted her shoulders. Her smile returned. It had been long since they had a peaceful winter.

It was a crisp day, and a pale sun was setting early beyond the frost-laced forest bordering the village, through limbs of bare oaks and heavy dark evergreens, setting the sky a cool blaze of blue, purple, and orange. Plunging her mittened hands into her pockets, Greta hurried to keep warm, and soon the unmistakable bubble of children’s laughter reached her.

She found them all at the base of a risen mound, watching as others barrelled downward from the hilltop on wooden sleighs. And there was Alucard.

He stood tall, arms crossed at his chest, a smile warming his pallid face. He was wrapped in his long black coat, his head uncovered, appearing completely unbothered by the chill. Greta raised an eyebrow at that — how he didn’t freeze to death was beyond her. The cool red sun shimmered on his golden hair, and he seemed a youthful ghost against the gleaming mass of white surrounding them.

That same yearning reared its needy head, and she smothered it down, instead relishing the way Alucard’s smile grew as the children’s laughter soared to the heavens. She then remembered he’d promised to build them all sleighs to ride out when the snows hit. And apparently, he kept his word. Now the woman understood the spark of glee in his eyes. Anda and Raul rushed off their new, polished wooden sleighs after they bound down the hill, giving Alucard a quick hug before rushing back to their games with the others. Soon they forgot all about the adult in their midst, busy with their own winter competition.

Alucard slowly turned on his heel, still smiling and shaking his head at their yelps and joyful cries and words of gratitude, a gloved hand waving the group goodbye. He looked so fresh, as fresh as the damn snow and something, something impish and sneaky brimmed at the back of her mind.

It must be the season, she thought; the relief, the throwback to similar times from the lanes of her own memories.

Whatever the reason…

Who cares?

Alucard hadn’t seen her yet, though he was striding back towards the same path, and Greta took the chance to hide behind the nearest tree. She knelt, slowly, and rolled a generous snowball in her hands. She straightened, hiding as Alucard neared, whistling — whistling! that was new — some old drinking song one elder taught him two nights before. She waited, and waited, until he was closer… closer still…

Alucard walked past the tree, and Greta rounded the trunk, snowball firmly in hand. Nearly there.

She aimed. Smiled; and struck.

Swiftly she hid behind her tree again, peering ahead and nearly bursting in laughter at the utterly confused and aghast look on his face as Alucard looked left and right, one hand still in his hair, clearing away the snow caught in his rich unbound strands.

If anything, she still had good aim, and as expected, Alucard turned, gazing suspiciously around the area. 

Giggling heartily now, Greta crouched down and rolled another ball of snow between her hands, faster now, about to rise and deploy another projectile—

“I see someone’s… busy.”

Greta stood and turned so fast her head spun, and before she could think, hurled her snowball, hitting Alucard straight in that perfect face.

She was still cackling for some reason, of course he would have sensed another presence with his damn abilities and of course he’d beamed right behind her, like the smart aleck that he was.

Greta jumped back, laughing openly at his rapid blinking, at the frown slowly creasing his forehead. She was hyperventilating, and before she knew it, her legs were struggling away from him and she was grabbing another handful of snow, which ended up as a white splatter over his chest. 

He’d still not moved, and Greta stopped some distance away, panting and smiling, watching the corners of his lips quirk upward; watching him lean down, his wolf-like gaze following her movements as he gathered snow and piled it between his gloved hands.

The first snowball missed her, and she yelped in shocked triumph. Greta stumbled back, turned and fled as another ball struck a tree to her left, dotting her cheek with icy sprinkles.

She ran again, and he was thankfully not using his powers, but good God his legs were longer than hers and soon a grip was on her arm, a hefty amount of snow in his other hand “Hah!” came an exultant hiss. “Got you—“

“Not a chanc— “ She stumbled on a rock hidden in the snow just as they were reaching the downward slope of a hill, and then she was crying out, and somehow they were both rolling down as the world turned and snow entered her mouth, her eyes, gushed beneath the collar of her coat. The downhill tumble was fast and confusing, and Greta moaned faintly, shaking her head as finally, everything stilled. 

She was splayed over something hard, warm and tense. 

Alucard.

Hair was in her mouth, and she raised her head, shaking the snow out of her vision. She sought leverage and rose, supporting herself on her arms.

Greta met his eyes. Those aureate beams that melted her knees, exposed her, sought through every nook and cranny of her soul. She concluded it was a good thing she was seated (in a manner of speaking). Her cap lay somewhere ahead of them, buried in snow.

Alucard was silent, his chest heaving up and down, watching her curiously as a deep red flush tinted his cheeks. Tiny snowflakes caught in his long, black lashes. He was trapped beneath her, his warm breath melting the ice on her lips. 

She should move.

Shouldn’t she?

“Are you all right?”

His voice, usually soft and deep as an endless night, was hoarse, cautious.

“Yes,” Greta rasped. Well, she hadn’t expected this.

Her thighs were grasping either side of his hips as she straddled him, and it took an effort to soften her body, making to move; a gloved hand was on her hip, pressing down. Greta blinked, her eyes trailing to the uneasy quiver of his lips, regretting it promptly the moment she caught his gaze. Her chest seized.

He knew.

“What is supposed to happen now?” Alucard asked, his words barely above a whisper. Like he was asking her; actually asking her.

“Nothing,” Greta said, though the word felt like grinding sand in her mouth. She didn’t know what came over her, should never have started this. “Nothing happens now. I was searching for you, I had a question on…” she paused. “Let’s get back.”  Get back… to what? To secretive glances when she thought no one was watching? To short, awkward moments of silence, where neither seemed to find the words or the will? Greta made to rise when his other hand pressed down on her other side, effectively keeping her pinned atop him.

“Greta.“

“No,” she shook her head, though the longer they sat like that, the more her body was melting against him like snow on warm skin. “No, we don’t have to… you...” His hand was on her shoulder, flowing to cup the back of her head, hedging her lower, down to him. “I didn’t mean for this... I…”

She didn’t resist, but she should try. Maybe he actually didn’t know what he was doing, and less so what he was doing to her. “We shouldn’t,” Greta mumbled, eyes closing as their foreheads touched. Warm. She shuddered.

Or was that him?

She dared not move as silence fell again.

“Is that your wish?” Alucard asked, very slowly. His eyes were mere slits of gold, the fall of his hair a halo around him in the snow. “Or you think it mine?”

He felt so good beneath her, his other arm bound around her waist, holding her closer still. She felt the press of his fingers keenly even through her layers, and he smelled so good up close, he felt… oh God.

Oh God.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Greta shivered as his fingers stroked circles at her nape. Well, all cards were on the table, as it were. She rose a little to see him properly.

What she saw left her raw on the inside, burning on the outside. She plunged her hands into his hair, brought her face closer, impossibly closer to his. Their noses bumped together — his was cold, so cold, and Greta could only smile, swallowing once before tilting her head just so... 

She gave in. Gave more, gave everything, all the loneliness and entire months’ worth of pent-up want, gasping when Alucard met her just as recklessly, and she couldn’t move, he wouldn’t let go, deepening everything she offered, hungrily, messily and with abandon.

His lips were hot and soft, his mouth so welcoming, then seeking hers, so tender she wanted to weep. Her last coherent thought before the world melted away was how well his body fit hers, like…

Like she belonged. Like home.

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

[anjels001]

The silent guardian

In the dim light of eternal night, sitting in his armchair in front of one of the windows in one of the chambers of his father's palace, warming himself by the flames of the fireplace, savoring the sweet and exquisite taste of the demonic wine in his crystal goblet, The dark coloring of his robust, glazed form contrasted with the soft touch of the white silk that dressed his hands, protecting him and keeping them smooth and slender as someone of his rank should have. His eyes shining like gold, one of the few indications that presented his true nature, are unfocused, contemplative, trapped in memories of a past that is rarely remembered. The memories of those glorious and painful days, the pain, the betrayal, the friendships and camaraderie followed by loss and separation. For a fleeting moment, the figure lets himself be attracted by the sweet melody of melancholy, letting himself be lightly touched in the water of the small, calm lagoon where these memories are found, an illusory and misleading image that tries to lure fools into its interior. cold, chaotic depth, before abruptly withdrawing from them. Diverting the beautiful orbs, the figure forces himself to remain in the present, apatheticly watching the dance of the beautiful flames of his fireplace, resisting the whispers of his music. bringing the sweet drink to his lips, the figure allows himself to taste the slight pain caused by the descent, slightly poisoned by the amber liquid made by the fall. Allowing himself to be carried away by the slight drowsiness that this brought, he soon remembered again the reason for his now state of contemplation. Oh, how he knew there were a thousand reasons not to act like this, that sooner or later he would have to deal with the consequences of tonight's actions, but at the present moment he had neither the strength nor the reason to care about them. But it had been decades since he'd last smelled that, since he'd seen that fire, years since he'd allowed himself even the tiniest glimpse of the lineage he'd always cherished. The lineage of your friends, your companions, your comrades, your clan. He knew that sooner or later he would have to interact with them, he knew that from the moment this descendant set foot in this realm, the descent would be marked and with that his self-induced mission would begin again. As much as he supported his prince's wish, as much as he agreed with his dream of unifying the kingdoms, he was not so foolish as to believe that it would be easy. He knew from Demetrios' experience of forcing someone to follow his orders, how easy it was for your people to turn against you, that power was not the same as invulnerability or even humility. Even the Lord and his brothers showed no support for his majesty's dream, worst of all they knew what humans were capable of… Demons were powerful, their culture and hierarchical structure were centered on that, being traditionalists the species as a whole would never see a human as their equal, as humans, however weak they were, were pesticides, extremely creative and adaptive. The human race had an angel's capacity for empathy and compassion, but a demon's capacity to harm apathetic and selfish beings thrived in chaos as long as he employed order. Letting out a sigh, the noble in a barbaric act down the entire glass at once before filling it again. From experience he knew that the descendant's presence was a warning, a warning of a future danger, however, he didn't know the type.. a possible revolt perhaps? a revelation of some dark secret that could lead to a major war? or even the return of ancient mystical forces that wish to destroy the realms and reap all life? He didn't know… but what he did know was that no matter what the difficulty, they wouldn't be alone… "After all, even after so many years…" observes the mysterious figure while lightly swirling the liquid. "… I never forgot you, my friend".

[alucarddear]

Peach Wine (2/?)

Requested by @chocolatecomputerunknown. Read her prompt here.

The witch escapes from her betrothal and ends up at Alucard’s castle. One mix-up with her potions later… she finds herself caged by the dhampir who’s unwilling to let her go.

Note: Eventual Yandere!Alucard. Definitely unhealthy.

| Previous part |

When she comes to, she finds herself in an unfamiliar bed. Groaning, she lifts herself up just enough to survey her equally unfamiliar surroundings. She spots first her small satchel sitting atop a wooden chest. Next to it is a set of table and chair. Finally, to her right is a plain wardrobe. The walls around her appear aged, yet the utilitarian room feels as if it has always been unoccupied.

It is when she looks down that she realises her clothes are different too, her tattered dress nowhere to be found. She has on a man’s long-sleeved white shirt, large enough to reach her thighs. The shirt gapes open around the chest by design and is only being held closed by one pathetic pin. She fights a blush from erupting across her cheeks at the thought of the dhampir securing her chest to preserve her modesty. Her pants are also too big, though it appears to be tightened up around her waist with a leather belt. She smells of clean soap too, her skin no longer caked with dirt. Even her hair appears to have been washed for it is still a little damp. Was she really so out cold that she doesn’t even remember any of this happening at all?

This is so embarrassing!

But all of that is the least of her concerns. Most importantly, she is still alive. It seems that Alucard somehow took pity and took her in. He’d even dressed her wounds. Tears of relief well up in her eyes before she can will them away. She made it out. She really ran away and lived to tell the tale another day. And now she owes the dhampir, of all beings, her life. 

He must have taken the effort to haul her sorry self all the way to this place. She figures she must at least thank him for that, so she dries her tears and gets up despite her burning limbs and the sharp sting on her side.

She finds him in the kitchen, toiling away in front of a pot, stirring.

She observes that he is almost as the idle talk in her part of town indicated—towering height, light golden hair, that hideous scar… And he does indeed live in a castle all by himself. Some also say that he is terrifying, that he doesn’t take kindly to trespassers to his property. I guess that part is true, she thinks. But nobody ever mentioned he was this beautiful. And, if she makes it through this whole ordeal unscathed, perhaps even merciful too.

He senses her boring a hole into his back from across the kitchen and sighs heavily.

“You’re finally awake. You’re fortunate I wasn’t in the mood to watch someone die in my presence last night,” he says, his voice stern and his words cutting. She watches him kill the fire and then pour soup into two bowls.

“Th-thank you,” she stammers awkwardly, unsure of how to react nor approach the taciturn man. 

“For everything. For helping me, I mean,” she adds, voice small and hesitant. “And for the clothes too.” Also… for not slicing my throat open for trespassing on your grounds. For whatever melancholy mood you were supposedly in that you spared me on a whim.

Admittedly, it stung a little to hear him say that. That he had such little regard for her life. That she was spared on a whim. Was her life really so invaluable to everyone around her? To her family, to humans of Wallachia, and even to a dhampir, one who’s supposed to maybe understand her predicament? Even so, he’d saved her life. Even if it was by accident or his random whim. No matter what his reasons were, she gets to live and be free for it. The least she could do is still be grateful.

He turns around, two bowls of what appears to be tomato soup in his hands, and acknowledges her thanks with a nod. Thankfully, he remains a gentleman too and keeps his gaze above her barely covered chest. She’ll have to get her old dress back somehow, if he kept it at all. Tattered as it is, it will at least cover her appropriately unlike these open-chested garments he seems fond of wearing himself. Besides, the lone sorry pin won’t hold.

He places the bowls on the table next to two plates of grilled meat and wordlessly motions for her to sit. 

Alucard notices the discomfort on his guest’s face. How she opens her mouth as if to say something, but then changes her mind. She must want to converse.

But there is no point, he thinks. She will have to leave anyway. They all do.

They eat in silence. 

Afterwards, he silently collects his own dishes and puts them away. He bids her good night and tells her that she can stay until the worst of her wounds have healed. She is to leave as soon as she can make it safely out of the forest. But until then, she is to stay out of his way and make herself scarce. She doesn’t dare contest him.

| Next part |

[nyxshadowhawk]

Things I love about Season 4, Episode 10

*SPOILERS*

Episode 10: It’s Been a Strange Ride

1. Season 4 Hector is great, and I wish we saw more of him. (Also that pose reminds me of someone, can’t think who…) I like this whole philosophical conversation about the difference between power and strength.

2. I mean, I wanted her to die in a fire, and technically she did! Just… not in the way I expected. I’m still very angry that Lenore is being presented as sympathetic, and that Hector likes her at all. I don’t feel like her abuse of him in the previous season was properly addressed or overcome. An “I’m sorry” isn’t going to cut it. But, it could be worse. I would much rather have this than them ending up together.

3. “I think I felt part of my brain die just trying to follow that logic.” And children have been calling him father? That’s adorable!

4. “And I was hoping you could help me teach this brilliant but fairly useless man how to live his life.” HAHAHA! I like this. I like this idea of building around the castle and a bright new future. It brings full circle all of the important themes that have been brought up throughout the series. The “where do we go from here?” question, the preservation of knowledge that was so significant in seasons 1 and 2, and the concept of rebuilding for more people. In fact, I think we’re all feeling that way after the pandemic — the way forward is to start rebuilding, and to have hope for a better future.

I also like that there’s a Ship Tease between these characters, but not an outright ship. That implies that Alucard is still capable of loving, but doesn’t force a relationship. And, I can’t believe I missed this, but “Greta of Danesti” is meant to be Grant Danasty.

5. Okay… so, I assumed that a bittersweet ending was the best I could have expected out of a show like this. Trevor dies, and I’m not terribly surprised. I didn’t expect the writers to pull a trope as sentimental as the Disney Death, but God, am I glad they did!

6. “You know what scared me the most? […] That you might end up calling the kid ‘Trefor’ after all.” 
“How did you even know?” 
“Please, this is me! How do you think I managed to say single and carefree all these years?”
 “CAN SOMEONE PLEASE COME OVER HERE AND KILL THIS MAN?”

(Ah, so that’s how there’s a whole village’s worth of Belmont descendents in Ecclesia!)

7. “You have a village now? What’s it called?”
“Treffy.”
“Can someone please come over here and kill me!”

8. Alucard is weirdly happy! And believes that whatever happens next, it’s going to be worth it. Hearing that from him brings me so much joy! That’s all I wanted for him.

9. “I think we finally won.”

10. WOAH, WHAT? Wow, if even these two get a happy ending, then… wow! Wow! Although now, I can’t really help but wonder where the story is going from here, if the rumored spinoff series happens. Much of Castlevania’s lore is dependant on Dracula being the incarnation of evil, and the Belmonts (and co.) having to fight him back century after century. I’m not sure what this means, but I am so happy and pleasantly surprised that Dracula and Lisa finally get to be together in happiness. I hope they come to visit their son eventually, because I know he’d like to see them (though I doubt Dracula would agree to live in a village called “Belmont”). (Also Lisa, if you insist that Dracula go by Vlad now for the sake of inconspicuousness, then maybe your surname shouldn’t be “Impaler.” Sorry, I had to.) And Dracula intends to travel to England? Of course.

***

I just… wow! What an emotional rollercoaster! I went from feeling distressed, to feeling melancholy, and then to feeling very happy all in the span of the last hour! I didn’t dare to believe that there would be such a heartwarming, happy ending after such a dark show! For one long and harrowing year I assumed that the creators would find other ways to emotionally screw me over. But in the end, I got what I wanted! In spades! Everything came full circle, and returned to the idealism that originally drove the protagonists in Season 1. How do I feel now? I feel like I just fought a long battle. I feel… relieved, more than anything. Relieved that it’s finally over, that the metaphorical sun has risen.

More than anything else, I’m grateful to this show for bringing Castlevania, and everything related to it — its music, its artwork, its fanart, its characters, its memes, and the games themselves — into my life. I am so happy it exists for that reason alone, let alone everything else! And now that I’ve gotten the closure I desperately needed, I can reclaim my love for it!

What a phenomenal show!

[beevean]

https://movieweb.com/what-the-castlevania-adaptation-got-right/

Babe wake up. It’s time for the regular Netflixvania dick sucking

Reply:

Oh, this is a recent one. Usually dick sucking articles were mostly written around S2. Nice.

Castlevania is from Warren Ellis. Ellis is a prolific comic book writer known for his dark, gritty, and violent stories. 

... do I need to add what else he’s famous for?

and the beginning of a beautifully crafted love story 

Bro, the games did not do a stellar job either, but Lisa literally appears for a whole minute before dying c’mon

As the series progresses, the audience is introduced to the idea that Dracula is not some crazed madman interested in destroying all life but is instead merely a lover whose heart has been broken. Dracula is still the monster audiences know him to be, terrifying and powerful, but his motivations are now deeply rooted in relatable human emotions.

True. But this is straight from the games. We see Dracula’s sorrow for Lisa’s death way back in SoTN. The difference is that Dracula in the games isn’t shown angsting on a chair.

One of the best character arcs in the series is from Alucard, son of Dracula. Alucard is a half-vampire, half-human, born from Dracula and his human wife, Lisa. Alucard's story is that of loss, grief, and pressing forward. Alucard begins his arc by losing his mother, a moment shared with his father, Dracula. The character's reactions are completely opposite to one another and show how grief affects people differently. Some lash out at the world, like Dracula, and some bottle it up as a burden, like Alucard. Alucard never fully gets over his loss, and, despite recognizing how hard it would be for him, he joins Belnades and Belmont to kill his own father. Eventually, Belnades and Belmont leave Alucard behind. Alucard is then forced to live alone in the place he once called home. The loss of his family haunts him, and his psyche begins to break down as phantoms from his past bring him to tears.

oh my god you’re just praising SoTN the idea of Alucard reacting in the opposite way as Dracula comes from SoTN just admit you’re praising SoTN

even the pain that comes at killing his own father is something mentioned in CV3! this is the bare minimum an adaptation that includes Alucard should do!!

As for the rest of his arc, lol and lmao. ah yes, peak character arc, Alucard’s friends ditch him, he gets so lonely that he becomes ripe for manipulation, he gets raped, and he shows trauma for a whole two episodes before reverting to his old self. writing.doc

its melancholy portrayal of the effects of grief

yeah i sure was grieving what good writing could have been instead of endless CHURCH BAD and HUMANITY SUCKS and PISS JOKES and rape apologism

Castlevania's ability to adapt its source material from an action platformer with little dialogue to a four-season-long story-driven epic filled with brilliant character moments and jaw-dropping action

Yeah, which is why the show stopped pretending to be a CV adaptation halfway through before shifting into a generic Game of Thrones clone.

Also I need to see those brilliant character moments. Perhaps they’re in the same version of the show where Trevor, Sypha and Alucard have polyamorous chemistry, instead of being Trevor, Sypha and that asshole no one likes

I’ll give one point though: this guy does not need to shit on the games to suck the show’s dick. But this is clearly because he never played them in the first place - the only mention is this one:

Castlevania is an adaptation of 1990's Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse. Dracula’s Curse and 2005's Castlevania: Curse of Darkness. It featured a simple singular story that involved the player moving throughout the country of Wallachia recruiting allies to kill Dracula.

which to me implies that this is yet another case of “dude who may have heard of CV3 when it came out and then never revisited it” - he mentioned CoD but didn’t even bring up its elements, and SoTN is nowhere to be seen despite being a huge influence on Dracula and Alucard’s portrayals

anyway tl;dr: yeah the action’s cool but that’s about it

[generatedhandle]

alright so half way through the year (2021), reading classics/older stuff only as much as possible n these are my top 10 reads so far:

10. battle angel alita aka gunnm

pretty good, the definition of strength and self are some of my favourite themes, great art & aesthetics, the story was just a little bit choppy at times but all in all pretty good as I said

9. shaman king

another pretty good one, I think it had a lot of good messages and I loved how philosophical n thought provoking it was and tried to be showing a variety of approaches to life, great art & a pretty good cast

8. hellsing

big fan of chaos, destruction and so on so I really enjoyed it, the only downfall was the simplistic plot & how predictable it was that alucard would always pull through but watching the cast dance around to the tune of madness was undoubtedly entertaining

7. drifting classroom

really old but really good especially for how short it was, pretty fast paced but the story was well handled and never really felt like it was going off track and even had a few comedic moments, honestly didn't really expect to like it but the mc was great, cast was great, art though old was also pretty good... honestly just really good lmao

6. uzumaki

I hate sp*rals now but this was really good, I'd always heard how great junji ito is but finally getting around to his works for myself and he's truly a master of the genre, innovative, creative and all with such little material tbh.. like spir*ls??? who knew

5. remina

another piece by ito, really short, only 6 chapters but it's absolutely phenomenal what he did with those 6 chapters

4. initial d

man... I don't like cars like that and honestly I hate driving but this manga was great, despite the fact that they refused to draw the characters decently, the art was great in literally every other department and not just looking pretty but everything was clearly drawn to immerse the reader in a certain atmosphere whether that was the speed of the car, the slowness of thought, pain of loss, melancholy of stillness it was all just beautiful, the story was pretty solid, somehow kept me entertained by somehow excellently diversifying the feel of every race because honestly they should fundamentally all be the same but the atmosphere around every race was different and engaging in it's own way... absolutely loved it

3. dragon ball (z)

the first manga I read this year, dragon ball straight into dragon ball z and honestly I loved it way more than I thought I would, like I figured I'd have to turn off my brain and just accept fight fight fight but the whole story from db to DBZ, story, characters, everything was masterfully done, sure it can be said to be a simple pursuit of strength but I loved how Goku wasn't about violence he just wanted to be free and to be the best self he could be and that's something I never knew before reading, I'd always thought he was just dumb muscle but based on his origins I think his simplicity is a strong point, great cast, phenomenal art, really good vibes, absolutely loved it

2. banana fish

always heard of it, finally got to it, glad it lived up to it's reputation, really really good, great ever unfolding story, loved the constant bashing of the american government, beautiful aesthetic, great cast... yh

1. Great Teacher Onizuka

great teacher onizuka... didn't have any expectations really but man... what a great manga... very touching, hilarious, decent art, pretty good cast... of course unrealistic in a sense, lots of hijinx n all that but really really touching...

other reads so far ranked highest to lowest:

blame!

sailor moon

baki

city hunter

negima (not a classic but a friend promised to read my favourite manga spirit circle of I read it lmao)

flame of recca

saint seiya knights of the zodiac

riki oh

I was trying not to make the post too long & I'd already done "reviews" of most if not all of the these so if you want to see those they should be tagged by name somewhere on here

also if you wanna see what I've read, what I'm reading & plan to read you can check out my anilist

and as always, shamefully plugging my aesthetics animanga page (it's not letting me tag it for some reason but it's @moodthroughmanga)

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

hiiii i'm new here and i loved her writing, she made me happy argh ♡. Okay I can ask for a scenario with Alucard, where the Reader is a Kitsune, with ears and tails, she is basically a spirit of the forest, but she was attracted by the melancholy of his Castle. And ignoring his warnings at the entrance, she starts to leave bouquets of flowers and small jewels at the entrance to the castle. She is very shy, always running before he sees her. you can ignore this and sorry for my bad English.

A/N: Your English is just fine! And I’M sorry for the long wait. 

♡      ♡      ♡

Kitsune!Reader x Alucard (Post S3) Imagine:

As a kitsune, you were incredibly clever. You also knew everything that happened within your forest. After all, you were its designated guardian spirit. Most recently, as you performed your guardian duties, a massive castle manifested next to the crumbled former Belmont estate. You had experienced some turbulence before; with your forest so close to a great monster’s hunter’s former home, it came with the territory. However, this castle’s sudden appearance was the work of someone greater than any of the road magicians you had experienced in the past. You remembered quite clearly how it came to be there.

Many nights ago, a down-trodden band of travelers came through on a covered wagon to the famed Belmont estate. There were three of them, and they seemed to work well together. They vanished into a hidden spirit door under the rubble, and you didn’t hear anything for hours. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, this giant monstrosity of a castle appeared not too far from where the travelers had vanished. Upon closer inspection, you realized you recognized the castle from tales of long ago. It belonged to Dracula.

When the group surfaced, you took the liberty of getting a better look at those faces. Much to your surprise, you found a Speaker, the last surviving son of the House of Belmont, and Alucard- Dracula’s son.

You didn’t dare follow them past the threshold of the castle, but from what your large fox ears could hear, a lengthy battle must have ensued. When the sun came up later that morning, only the three travelers emerged, looking rather worse for wear. You deducted they were the only survivors.

It was puzzling, to say the least. You understood why Belmont would want to kill Dracula and his associates. And you guessed that as a Speaker, the strange woman would most likely be against the persecution or genocide of any race or species. But you couldn’t imagine why the dhampir, Alucard, Dracula’s only son, would agree to end his Father’s reign in such a way. Yes, it was a necessary sacrifice, but still, it must have been incredibly difficult for the vampire boy to do so.

He seemed so serious. You wondered if it was even possible to make him smile. Perhaps his friends were capable of cheering him up? But if they were, you wouldn’t have known it because no sooner than the deed was done, did Belmont and the Speaker take off in the covered wagon. They left Alucard all alone, which seemed insensitive. You knew it wasn't your responsibility; the castle was technically out of forest bounds, but your curiosity had gotten the best of you.

You ventured closer to the castle, cautiously leaving the safety of your home’s foliage behind. And you were glad you did because once you ventured just a tad bit closer, your big fox ears had managed to detect the sound of sobbing.

The poor Alucard boy was crying.

Oh, you felt so awful! You wanted so desperately to comfort him, but at the same time, your shy and sneaky nature forbid you from talking to him outright. He seemed to need companionship. But at the same time, you recognized he wasn’t in any physical danger. On the other hand, the occupants of your forest needed you to protect them from cruel trackers and hunters who wished to do them harm. So, you simply said a quick blessing over him and continued on your way.

This pattern of yours continued for some time. You were drawn to the melancholy of the castle. It called out to your very soul. For that reason, you continued to discreetly visit and speak blessings over the castle and its occupant.

It was a month or so into this routine when those two showed up. You sensed dark energy resonating within them and as a result, you kept a close eye on them as they approached Alucard. You were surprised at how well he could hold his own in a fight and wondered if you were less sneaky if his dhampir ears would detect you. But that concern was far from your mind. You wanted to keep your forest safe from those two mysterious travelers. You didn’t trust them.

As it turned out, you were right not to.

You didn’t know how or why it happened… All you knew is one week you went to give your blessing to the castle, only to find the corpses of those two travelers up on pikes at the front entrance. You felt the situation had escalated, and simple enchantments and blessings would no longer be enough to protect the heart of Alucard and his castle.

You started leaving gifts whenever you went to say a blessing. They were just small things, an arrangement of acorns, flower wreaths, fresh berries, and sweet-smelling tree leaves.

When you came back, you noticed your gifts were gone, clearly taken inside by Alucard. Your heart soared. It made you glad to help. At the same time, it made you worried. Now that Alucard knew he had a visitor, he would be on the lookout for his mysterious gift giver.

A part of you wanted to be his friend, but the shy part of you knew it was best to stay hidden. After all, kitsune were clever creatures. If you made a fool of yourself in front of your crush, it would seriously damage your reputation.

You were very proud of your most recent gift. It was a collection of crystals, and jewels travelers had lost in your forest throughout the years. You were placing the final touches of flower petals and twigs around the jewels when your large kitsune ears detected footsteps approaching. You quickly had rushed to finish your gift’s presentation before you dashed off, back into the woods.

From a safe distance, you watched as Alucard exited the doors of his castle and made his way to your gift.

You weren’t certain, because you were fairly far away, but when you squinted, you thought you could see the faintest traces of a smile on his face.

♡      ♡      ♡ 

A/N: If you enjoyed this ask, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi!

[fury-brand]

coming at you friend: POTA(to, please)

boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

I’m dreadful boring about AUs, they are all just 3 ideas: - canon divergence AU where I can explore some interesting-to-me thing - AU where taco bell exists and we’re going there NOW - crossover!!

In the spirit of the first I’d like a Ysayle Lives AU where she gets involved in the government of Ishgard and if she still has amends to make she makes them.  I’ve also been wondering how a YorHA/SOLDIER AU might work for a bit now...

O - Choose a song at random, which ship or character does it remind you of

Autumn by No Kind of Rider was the last thing I listened to and it’s got that AeriSeph our-mutual-destruction-is-inevitable-but-before-it-occurs-we-may-experience-a-moment-of-brittle-peace-and-yearn-for-something-different melancholy* for me:

How would you change me If you had known long ago? Feels so easy Just to be caught up in the flow See I don't need angels and sirens above I don't need fire or brimstone below Or writing in the sky I just want warmth When nights are cold We all have to die To be reborn But we have tonight To sail the storm Once more

*you unlock the ability to see this when you gain enough ship xp to hit level 20

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all

let’s go with: Sephiroth did not grow up, like, chained to a metal table while an eagle ate his liver over and over again and Hojo took some notes on it. Most of his trauma comes from being a child soldier and corporate property, not from being a lab rat subject to bizarre (but admittedly #aesthetic) experimentation. It’s pretty crucial that he didn’t have enough information to know he was created - only that he was special (and exceptional).

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

Aeris/Sephiroth and Integra/Alucard, and thanks to @cateringisalie​ I’ve been dipping back into Sherry/Jake (RE6) as well

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all 

Hojo loves Sephiroth. It’s just that love isn’t always enough.

O - Choose a song at random, which ship or character does it remind you of

Here’s one I always liked for Elizabeth Bioshock, Starlight by the Wailin’ Jennies, which is now giving me Ysayle vibes as well

I have toured the endless starlight Take me home I have shattered under midnight Take me home There are no vultures in this clearing Except the ones who brought me here And I'll no longer feed them Take me home Kingdom come, their will was done And now the earth is far away From any kind of heaven Hallowed be these frozen fields And every single one of us Still left in want of mercy Take us home

[idontevenremember5minutesago]

My thoughts on Castlevania S3

- I wasn’t really feeling the sections with Trevor and Sypha. It didn’t bring anything really interesting to the table other than seeing a way to bring Dracula back. The parts with them adventuring and doing couple things was cute but just not very engaging I guess? The whole arc with them just didn’t really do it for me. I couldn’t get too invested in the storyline other than ‘OMG Dracula!’but the action it brought was good.

- Hector’s arc was....an experience. While I was glad we got to see more of him I wish it focused more on development or him getting away from Carmilla then him getting abused and used at every damn opportunity. 6 episodes to get him in clothes? All the beatings. The manipulation and forced slavery. There’s dark and then there’s overkill. Also I saw what was gonna happen with him and Lenore coming from a mile away but it still felt like a punch to the gut when it all went down. Honestly his whole arc felt like torture porn for poor Hector and it made me so uncomfortable. Hopefully they do him right next season.

- Carmilla countiues to be my least favorite character. Her sections were so boring! It felt like they were trying to humanize her and add more layers to her character but it just made me hate her more. Sorry not gonna fall for the ‘she’s just rough around the edges’ shit. But her arc gave me her sisters who are a hell of a lot more interesting and engaging to watch so there’s that.

- Things that Alucard deserved: NOT FUCKING THAT! God Alucard’s arc was a roller coaster ride. It started off melancholy and then turned cute, funny and hopeful and ended on such a dark and depressing note. Sumi and Taka had so much potential and it could have been an interesting take to see Alucard train them and perhaps see them influence his inevitable journey to Japan but they just did THAT. Why, to see him suffer on top of his past suffering in addition to his trauma? wasn’t the triple gut punch of losing his mom, killing his dad and being left in solitude after enough?I also do not like that they’re hinting at him turning into Dracula lite and becoming distrustful and developing a distaste for humans. It goes against his main motivation to fight his father! To honor his mother and her love of humanity. To NOT be another Dracula. Like, I understand him killing Sumi and Taka but staking them!? No do not want! RED FLAG! Him becoming like his father is literally the worst direction they could take his storyline.

- Issac is the clear winner of the best and most engaging arc of the season. He was the character after Alucard and Hector who I was most excited for and I was not let down.No complaints. His sections were great and introspective and a breath of fresh air. No fluff or filler. Everything fit perfectly to his motivations. He was really out here carrying the entire season.

All in all this season was obviously a set up for S4 and I’m sure that’s when everything is gonna go down and we’ll get a payoff for the things introduced this season. It wasn’t bad but there are things that could have been handled better.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: half spent was the night rating: mature (canon-typical violence, blood, coarse language)  summary: Upon receiving an ominous invitation, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, and Alucard attend a strange wedding during a winter night where not everything is as it seems and the veil between the living and the dead is thinner than ever.

AO3

DECEMBER 24

The scroll sits on his desk, unopened and untouched amongst scattered piles of books and other papers left neglected for some time. Sparingly, Alucard’s train of thought will latch itself onto it while he sets about completing another mundane chore of the hour. It’s only when he enters the study does his gaze drift away, drawn towards the piece of rolled parchment held together by a red wax seal. Even from a distance he sees its emblem—a sparrow carrying a branch of mistletoe in its beak.

How seasonally appropriate, he thinks, looking more sullen than usual.

Alucard received the scroll the same way most ghost stories begin. There was a sound at the castle entrance that he could not ignore. Knock. Knock. Knock. Each pound echoing throughout the corridors like a persistent drumbeat. The steady beat within his own chest quickened, his ind a flurry of quick, presumptuous answers to his one question—have they returned? Yet upon opening the massive door, he found nobody. No familiar face, not even a messenger. Only what they left behind.

Another wayward glance towards the parchment. Alucard can still smell the cinnamon and roasted chestnuts as strong as it was when he picked it up the day before. He’s tried to bury the memory of his father. There’s no sense in dwelling over dead things. But something he said a long time ago haunts Alucard now more than ever. A warning about strange parcels that might be left on his front doorstep.

“If ever in late December you receive a letter sealed with a sparrow and a mistletoe, do not open it.” Those words used to confuse Alucard. Why should Dracula fear a simple letter? Until he discovered much later that the warning was never meant for the castle lord himself, but for his wife and child.

He knows his history and is fully aware of the story behind such a letter. Yet ominous memories and facts from the past are not enough to dissuade Alucard’s innate sense of curiosity—one of many traits he inherited from his mother. He is an adult now, and ghosts do not scare him. They only cause him melancholy.

Tired of his own hesitation, Alucard picks up the scroll and breaks the seal with a sharpened nail. The parchment feels soft under his fingertips, surprisingly so. He unravels it and reads, just to confirm his suspicions. First, he notices the calligraphy; familiar, recognizable, most likely commissioned by a monk. Yet the lettering hasn’t been in popular use for centuries. Then the message itself:

Thou art cordially invited to attend the joining of Lady Sofia Cel Tradat and Sir Darius Lupei in holy matrimony on the thirty-first evening of December. The celebration of this blessed union between houses shall be witnessed at Castle Cel Tradat upon sundown.

Stationed at the very top of the invitation are two crests, one that shows a feral wolf holding an arrow in its fangs. Beside it is the very same sparrow with the same mistletoe. Alucard sits at the desk, his chin resting upon his fist thoughtfully. There are two normal reactions one can have when receiving a wedding invitation. First being joy, then apathy. Indifference. Alucard feels neither. It’s not fear that grips him, yet the ink words creep through his bloodstream like the very same ghosts who reach out to him. Not fear, but instead an odd sort of resolve.

He leaves the study and makes the long, cold trek through the freshly fallen snow then down to the underground archives. The newly built staircase creaks under his weight but Alucard is light on his feet. Large portraits obscured by curtains displaying the Belmont crest surround him as he descends. Maybe one day he’ll finally unveil whatever’s behind those curtains. The hold itself hasn’t changed much—perhaps a bit neater, better organized, and with less bloodstains.

The mirror is where he left it: centre of the room near the directory. Alucard runs a hand across the cracks in its glass then over the newly engraved runes along its frame. Hopefully everything will work. Hopefully they will hear him this time.

--

Who knows how long it’s been since Trevor Belmont last greeted his days with a gruelling hangover—an awful habit, which he doesn’t miss. The groan that escapes his lips as he stretches upon his makeshift bed is one that comes from a night well slept, not a headache that pounds away behind his eyes. Bright winter sunlight streams in through the slight opening of the canvas. The wagon feels cramped but also warm and safe.

Trevor sits up, surrounded by their provisions, and sees Sypha right where he left her. Close by his side, securely curled up within her own little fortress of blankets. The sight amuses him, especially since she’s the only one who can walk through snow while wearing nothing but sandals upon her feet. A few more minutes sleeping next to her won’t hurt.

Something rattling inside the wagon catches his attention, causing Trevor to jump slightly. Must be a rat trying to steal what little food they have left. He grumbles at this slight morning annoyance before lazily pushing aside every container in order to find this little devil. It’s a wonder how Sypha can sleep through the sound of boxes and heavy burlap sacks being tossed about. Trevor finally reaches the source of all that noise: a thin rectangular travel case shaking on its own.

Funny... He thinks, not terribly concerned with its sudden jerking movements. The rat probably found a way inside and now can’t get itself out. I don’t remember packing this. Trevor opens the lock only to stare down into a pile of broken glass, as though whatever was in there had already been shattered beyond repair. But he saves his expletives for when the shards come to life, dancing in the air before they form a small mirror. Trevor stumbles backwards and stares into his reflection—awestruck, confused, a little bit panicked. It soon dissipates until he comes face to face with familiar golden eyes.

“Can you hear me, Belmont?” Asks the vision of Alucard... if it really is Alucard. Trevor might still be asleep, and this is only some wishful dream. “Let’s try this again. Can you hear me?” No answer yet; Trevor needs a moment to settle on one question at a time while they’re spinning in his head.

“... a nod of the head or a simple ‘fuck’ would be helpful.”

“How are you doing this? Where the hell are you?”

“I’m using the distance mirror from your family’s museum. With the repaired runes, it can once again be used for communication as well as observation. Only with other distance mirrors, of course.”

Oddly enough, this is all beginning to make sense to Trevor. “That’s why you looked so... cracked. When did you even pack this thing in our caravan?”

“Right before you and Sypha left. I thought I could surprise you both.”

“Well, you sure as shit surprised me.” He taps one of the levitating shards and watches it spin back into place. “This is the strangest thing...”

“You’ve seen far stranger.”

“Trevor, why are you talking so loud...” Complains Sypha, her words slurring together as she forces herself out of a heavy sleep. Her half-lidded eyes open wide at the sight of Alucard in the mirror. He smiles, glad to see the absence of bandages on her arm and shoulders. After exclaiming his name, she climbs over Trevor, shoving her hand into the side of his face (not on purpose) in an excitable attempt to get closer. So much for feeling tired.

“Is this another distance mirror? Why is it smaller? Or is it meant for travel? Are you using the one back at the hold?”

“Good morning to you as well, Sypha. Has this one gotten you into any trouble lately?”

“Actually, she gets me into trouble more often.”

Sypha ignores Trevor, entirely fascinated by this ground-breaking method of communication. Already her frantic mind begins to conjure up ways in which it could help the Speakers. “How are you, Alucard? And why have you waited so long to speak with us like this?”

Alucard doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he wasn’t waiting all this time. That he’s tried over and over again, yet could never reach them. It doesn’t matter; he can see them now and there are more important matters at hand. “Poor management of time on my part. I’ve actually reached out because I am in need of assistance.”

“With what?” We’ve done away with one existential threat to humanity, don’t tell me there’s another already. Trevor holds his tongue, biting back his irritable thoughts. He’s gotten better at it; maybe one day he won’t even acknowledge them.

“It would be better if I showed you.”

“That means we would have to travel back to the castle.” Sypha’s point is valid, but she doesn’t make it sound like a hardship. In fact, Trevor and Alucard think they hear the slightest hint of excitement in her voice. Why shouldn’t she be? There’s still much within Dracula’s laboratories and libraries which she hasn’t yet uncovered with her own eyes hungry for more knowledge. Trevor on the other hand feels a twinge of apprehension. True, the castle has been subdued but the Belmonts have always been taught to remain wary of a vampire’s abode. At least he trusts the new lord of this one.

“I realize how tall of a request this is, as I presume you two have been traveling for some time now. But I would prefer it if I saw both of you in person.”

Alucard’s stoic, near professional composure cracks when he catches a better view of Trevor’s face. There it is again—another one of his wry grins. The kind that forms on its own whenever the Belmont is about to say something stupid. Yet those who live in glass houses should not throw stones. Alucard has also said his fair share of stupid things directed at Trevor. While he would be caught dead if he admitted to this, he’s glad to see that unmistakable smile along with the man behind it.

“Aw you missed us, didn’t you? You can say it, we promise we won’t judge.”

Sypha clasps a hand over Trevor’s mouth before another syllable can crawl out of it. “It would be no inconvenience to us, Alucard. We will leave now and be at the castle within the next day or so.”

“I look forward to it. Safe travels.” Alucard’s last words before he’s left staring into his own fractured reflection. At the same time, countless of miles away from the castle, Sypha and Trevor watch as the mirror shards gracefully return back into the box until they’re needed once again.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask if he’ll be preparing dinner for us.” Trevor’s little quip is rewarded with the sudden feeling of Sypha’s foot pressed against his lower back. Giggling, she gently pushes him towards the front.

“Up you get. Remember, you’re still in charge of the reins.”

“Easy now, I was just asleep.”

“You woke up before me!”

Their wagon is situated between two towns, yet close to neither of them. All that surrounds them are trees, fields, and mountains— everything blurs together in a painting of deep greens and the endless white of snow. But Wallachia is not a terribly large country and they always know where to go.

--

DECEMBER 25

Sypha blows into her cupped hands, warming them while they drive down yet another road that cuts through dense forestry. Skeleton trees all around, straight as the bars of a cage. There’s the sound of fresh snow crunching beneath the horses’ hooves coupled with the caw of a nearby crow or two. It’s like those damn birds will never leave Wallachia, even in the coldest seasons. She recognizes this pathway, as does Trevor. He remembers to say good morning to his beloved tree (perhaps his oldest friend) and makes the incorrect assumption that Sypha can’t really hear him. Just as she thinks he can’t feel her arm tighten around his.

The road begins to widen and soon they arrive at the gutted remains of a family’s legacy. Trevor huddles into the fur of his new cloak, breathing out a soft huff of frozen air. There used to be a sharp pain that gouged its way into the very pit of his chest whenever he looked upon these ruins. Like the tip of a needle that’s been shoved into the still burning embers of a slowly dying fire as a cruel joke. A reminder that he never left his home behind.

Of course, Trevor never allowed himself to show it— not consciously. It hurts less, now that the manor is in better hands. At least the walls are still standing. Maybe one day while he’s still young and able, he’ll put down the Morningstar, pick up a hammer, and get to work.

Soon another structure comes into view, far more imposing than a pile of old stones. Standing as tall as the mountains, a maze of spiked towers and bridges going in all directions. Dracula’s castle was once filled with an ever-present orchestra of steam and working gears. These days, it remains unnaturally silent —as though it shouldn’t really exist.

Trevor and Sypha believed that before. It’s strange to think and even stranger to admit, but they’re glad the castle exists, all due to its current lord. A few more trots forward and they already see him waiting patiently by the grand steps leading up to the massive front door. He greets his two guests with a smile.

“Welcome back.”

Sypha is the first to jump out of the wagon and run towards Alucard, joyfully exclaiming his name. His body goes stiff, his expression more surprised as she suddenly wraps her arms around him. He was expecting a friendly “hello” or “it’s good to see you again”. Perhaps it has been too long.

“Oh... I, ah...” Alucard returns the embrace not uncomfortably, but stunned, nonetheless. “It’s... nice to see that both of you are in good health.”

“You’re looking rather stately as well.”

“Yes, well...” He searches for a better response to Trevor’s comment only to find himself empty-headed and feeling more awkward than before. They hold themselves so casually, speaking as old friends should. To his relief, Alucard regains his equilibrium and tries matching their nonchalance. “Come in. We have much to discuss.” He turns to the castle, leaving Trevor and Sypha a bit put off.

“Right to the ugly business, eh?”

“We were hoping to tell you about our travels... at least a little.”

Upon hearing the utter dejection in Sypha’s voice (coupled with the always recognizable snark of Trevor’s), Alucard stops. He faces them with a soft, penitent gaze. Always speaking too soon, more from the head, less from the heart, much to his and everyone else’s detriment. “And you shall. I want to hear everything. Every adventure, every mischief... but I’d rather not delay any fur—”

Trevor raises a hand. “It’s fine, Alucard. Just tell us what you need help with so badly.”

“Then it will be our turn to talk your ears off.”

Still wounded by his own unintentional single-minded thinking, Alucard manages another smile. “I would like that very much. But as you said, let’s get this... ugly business out of the way first.”

They follow him up the snow-covered steps, cloaks and robes billowing in the cold breeze, wondering how “ugly” this business really is.

--

“Need a hand up there?”

“I will be down in a moment. I just need to find it...”

Trevor and Sypha have already heard those exact words—multiple times, in fact. They can’t even see Alucard as he searches the shelves that curve around them in a perfect circle. It’s not that there’s no enjoyment to be found sitting in Dracula’s library, marveling at every book and tome amassed over centuries while they wait for his son. But one can only stare up at each level spiraling higher towards the heavens for so long without feeling the slightest bit bored. Trevor is far more antsy, still getting used to the castle as a whole.

The very antithesis of what Sypha felt the moment Alucard led them through the door. She mentally congratulates herself for keeping the excitement in check, despite her growing desire to comb through every forbidden page until her fingertips become bloody and raw. Hopefully there will be time for that should she and Trevor decide to extend their visit.

“Here it is,” announces Alucard from some unseen level. Before either of them can stand up, he jumps—or rather glides down and lands on two feet with poise while holding a book that barely fits underneath his arm. The pages, so thick they’re near to bursting out of their binding, have turned brown and tattered along each edge. Even sitting from afar, Sypha notices these minuscule details before Alucard can join them on the cushioned bench. Trevor tries to get a closer look at its cover but with the obstruction of Alucard’s arm and the old lettering, he has difficulty making out the title. 

“You wanted us to come all this way for some light reading?” He asks as the dhampir squeezes between him and Sypha.

“No. I wanted you to come all this way to read this.” Reaching into a pocket of his robe, Alucard withdraws the letter. It looks deceptively harmless in his hand. He unscrolls it and waits for the message to be read by new eyes. In the silence, Trevor touches the parchment between his thumb and index finger slowly, thoughtfully, and with the right amount of care. Just as Alucard did when he first received it.

“This feels new... but no one writes invitations like these anymore.”

“I recognize this calligraphy. It’s ancient, isn’t it.”

Alucard interjects, significantly more comfortable with the letter’s presence now that others have examined it. “Mid 12th century. Not entirely ancient, but old enough to remain somewhat alien to our own time.”

Trevor sits back and leaves the scroll to Sypha’s capable hands. “So the Cel Tradats obviously know their history. They want to show off their nobility and wealth through the wedding of their daughter Sofia. Well done to them and to her. What’s the issue, then?”

Without giving either side of him a slight glance, Alucard begins flipping through the book. “Sofia Cel Tradat has been dead for two centuries.” Said as though it were a simple fact. Expressions harden as everyone’s collective gaze settles on a page with gold and red lettering that shines in the light. Painted vines creep along the sides like the ones sheltering the Belmont manor.

“Sometime during the late 12th century, a minor civil war broke out between two noble families—the Cel Tradats and the Lupeis...” Alucard’s fingertip ghosts over the exaggerated sparrows and wolves that intermingle with the surrounding vine. 

“The dispute concerned territory in the Carpathian Mountains. Eventually, money for the Lupei family ran completely dry and they had already suffered more losses than the other side. So they were forced to surrender on their own volition, but as a sign of good faith, the patriarch offered to marry off one of his sons in an effort to unite the two houses. Lucky for him, the Cel Tradats had a daughter named Sofia who was of age and yet to be wed.”

“You mentioned something about lack of funds,” interrupts Trevor. “Did Lupei really want to unite the houses or was he just looking for a sizable dowry?”

“That may have been the case, but it’s not important to us.” Alucard lets his annoyance drip off every word. At least it’s a sign that Trevor’s been paying attention thus far. “Despite the arranged marriage, it’s said that Sofia grew to admire her fiancee in the weeks leading up to the wedding.”

“However...” Sypha voices just what Trevor is thinking. There is always some sort of “however” with these particular stories.

“Not everyone was happy with the arrangement, especially on the Lupei side. The matriarch thought this entire affair was a sign of weakness. Her husband had lost the war, willingly surrendered, and was now marrying off her last remaining child to the enemy. She hated them all and saw only one way to restore honour to the Lupei name.’ 

The wedding ceremony itself was perfect and both parties behaved. But during the celebration, Sofia Cel Tradat was stabbed by a Lupei assassin while the rest of her family were either poisoned or assaulted themselves. They wouldn’t even spare her husband from their blades. There was no mercy for traitors of their house.”

“That’s terrible...” Sypha’s voice is low and her gaze unfocused, turned away from the open book.

“It does not stop there. Despite bleeding out, Sofia watched as her entire bloodline was being destroyed and became consumed with rage for the Lupei matriarch.” Alucard turns the page to an illustration that might as well have been ripped from the Belmont’s family bestiary; two women engaged in a violent clash, one with blood covering her open mouth as though she were a vampire.

“Sofia stumbled towards Lady Lupei, knocked her to the floor, and tore out her throat with her own teeth and fingernails. During this, any Cel Tradat who wasn’t dead yet started attacking the nearest Lupei. That night, Castle Cel Tradat was filled with over a hundred people, but only a small handful of guards who saw what happened walked away alive.’

‘Since then, those who pass by the abandoned castle on the last day of the year claim to see lights and hear music coming from inside. Every December, nobles and lords receive the very same invitation in your hands. Those foolish enough to accept are never seen again. Dracula always warned my mother and I in case one ever found its way to us.”

He closes the book, his palm lingering atop the front cover a second longer. “Seems Sofia Cel Tradat finally found the Tepes family.”

An air of silence, thick and unavoidable, once again passes over all three as they let the story sink into their thoughts. Trevor is the first to speak up after letting out a less-than subdued “fuck” under his breath. “That’s quite the winter ghost story. But how does it concern us?”

“I’ve decided to accept her invitation.”

Sypha narrows her eyes; perhaps she misheard Alucard. “You just said those who do that are foolish.”

“It must have been foolish of me to oppose my father, yet I did it anyway. I’ve accepted because there might be a way to help Sofia. It’s been said that when a person dies while deep in the throes of an intense hatred, a curse is born upon that soul, forcing them to remain in this world. Reliving the very moment of their death over and over again until something changes.”

“You’re talking about exorcising the spirit of a centuries old bride who ripped out her mother-in-law’s throat with her own bloody teeth.” It’s no surprise to Alucard or Sypha that Trevor would speak so plainly. Exorcism must have been his family’s bread and butter, along with the more common business of bestial slayings.

“You make her sound like a monster.”

Trevor contemplates for a moment, resting his elbows on both knees. “Not exactly. Shit, I honestly respect the poor girl for what she did. Still, she sounds like a force to be reckoned with.”

“You could be right. But this curse clearly isn’t any fault of Sofia’s. She was betrayed; the attempt on her life and the lives of her family occurred during her own wedding. Of course she would want to take immediate revenge. The fact that this event took place during Yule might have also contributed in some fashion.”

“Why do you think so?” Inquires Sypha.

“Originally, Yuletide referred to the days between winter solstice and the new year. During this time, it was believed that a veil separating the seen from the unseen world grew thin. This allowed for certain things to pass through—ghosts, the Wild Hunt, and the like.”

Sypha perks up at the mention of such a festivity. “I know the Wild Hunt. We never celebrated Yule, but my family used to hear stories about it from locals whenever we traveled... then again, they were always meant to frighten the younger ones so they would go to bed earlier.”

“That does not surprise me. There are less than savoury tales involving the Wild Hunt. I remember my father entertaining us every dark midwinter’s night with stories he heard himself. In any case, Sofia doesn’t deserve to continue suffering like this. I believe there’s a way for her soul to finally be put to rest.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing. What do you need us for?” Trevor doesn’t mean to sound cynical, but the tone of his voice says otherwise. He’s still trying to shed that former version of himself.

For your companionship. “From my experience, there is always strength in numbers. And I don’t know what to do or where to start... not really.”

Trevor gives him an empathetic nod. He himself knows what it’s like to give off the illusion of knowing—he’s practically mastered it. Though Trevor never thought he would hear Alucard of all people admit to something like that. “Then I guess it’s back down into that museum you love so much.”

“So, will you help me?”

“What do you think our answer is? No? We’ve already done this before, one more time shouldn’t hurt. Besides, I’ve never been to a wedding. Should be fun.”

“Sypha?” He looks to her for a similar response. She stays quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so, but raises her gaze to match Alucard’s.

“We did not come all this way just to leave again.” Sypha rolls up the invitation before handing it back to Alucard. “Now would you like to hear about our travels over a hot drink?”

Neither man wants to refuse her offer, especially not Trevor. Letting out a sigh of what sounds like relief, he stands up and follows Sypha to the door. Alucard would join them, another introverted smile on his lips, until the smell of cinnamon and chestnuts returns. It briefly lingers in the air until something changes. He fiddles with the parchment, his senses slowly overwhelmed by the creeping stench of rotting flesh.

Trevor and Sypha are already out of the library before either of them can smell it as well.

--

DECEMBER 27

Sypha Belnades gets to tell her stories. The evening of her return to Castle Dracula, she’s quick to fill Alucard’s head with tales of the somewhat heroic deeds she accomplished alongside Trevor. Every road their humble little caravan came across, they disposed of the remaining night creatures who continued to plague the shadows, stumbling from place to place, searching for their next prey. Lost, hungry, and with no master they could crawl back to. Killing them was almost a mercy. The duo had found themselves in far direr circumstances with certain men of the cloth who brandished false words and insidious influence than they did with fangs and claws.

There are the softer stories. When the two of them wore crowns made from wildflowers and were convinced by other Speakers to join in their celebratory practices. Sypha still makes light of Trevor’s two left feet, despite his honest attempts. Then as reparation, she recounts the day when she took him to the beaches of the Black Sea and how he stared in awe at the open waters with their hues of lapis lazuli  and turquoise. Awe and a sense of peace he thought had been forever lost to him. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t need to.

Alucard’s gaze instinctively glances to his side and sees a familiar blush warming Trevor’s cheeks.  

All three spend the evening in content spirits, despite the dark task that lies ahead of them. Yet now as Sypha sits at one of the worktables in Dracula’s bright laboratory, combing through tome after tome, a pervasive feeling dulls her usually sharp focus. It’s not boredom, god no. She could never get bored in a castle like this. It’s more of a melancholy; not as intense as that night down in the Belmont Hold when Trevor offered his dusty blanket to her and they sat together in the glow of a single candle. Yet it makes her just as tired, just as depressive.

Sypha’s finger flips over another heavy page, her eyes half-lidded, skimming over the words. I feel like I’m slowly turning into Alucard by the day, she thinks, a little bittersweetly.

In the midst of her daze, she hears a rough yet understated voice coming from behind her. It reminds her of rich coffee mixed with more than a hint of whiskey. She enjoys both, much to her own surprise. “You’re a hard person to find.”

“What makes you say that?” Sypha closes the book, an easy smile on her face, and turns around to face Trevor.

“Thought I’d find you down in some corner of the archives.”

“I like it here. The castle gives me something different to look at... and something different to think about. You might disagree.”

Trevor awkwardly scratches the back of his head; a way of confirming Sypha’s assumption. “At least it looks, err, neater than how we left it.”

“I think Alucard has been busy since we last saw him.” A pause, then a change of topic. “Did the Belmonts ever receive one of those invitations?”

“Not that I can remember. Either they were destroyed, or we never got them since Yule wasn’t something we celebrated.” Despite the tense way he carries himself close to Dracula’s scientific instruments, Trevor aimlessly wanders around the laboratory while speaking. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something about these contraptions that fascinated him.

“I doubt Dracula ever celebrated it either.”

“Maybe those spirits saw a kinship with him. Creatures of the night always flock together, remember? Like flies to an open stable.”

“That is disgusting.”

“But an apt analogy, no?”

“No.” Sypha laughs, causing Trevor to join in. It quiets down before dying completely when that pervasive feeling comes back, souring the mood. The expression in Sypha’s eyes and on her face changes—it no longer feels right to smile. As much as she appreciates Trevor’s attempt at a casual conversation, somehow it feels wrong to make light of their mission. She looks to the floor, wondering if she should really get back to work.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“I’ve heard that excuse before.”

“Really, nothing’s wrong.”

Trevor still won’t take that as a good enough answer. He’s far more perceptive than most believe him to be. “You’ve gone quiet and you’re staring at your feet. That means something’s eating away at you. What is it?”

“It...” Sypha crosses both arms across her chest, encasing herself in a cocoon made from her own baggy robes. “It is difficult to put into words.”

“You’re not happy here.”

“No! I am! And I’m happy to see Alucard again. But it always seems like all three of us are brought together because of a monster or dire situation.”

“Always? It’s only happened twice.”

Twice is enough. A sign, or rather an omen of patterns that have yet to happen. For Sypha, twice is one too many. “I only wish for us to be like other friends. Spend time together without worry or urgency and do things not involving some threat to humanity.”

Her lamentations are reasonable, and they spark a twinge of empathy within Trevor—perhaps even revelation. What he wouldn’t give to have all three of them settle down and live their lives without blood caked underneath their fingernails or the threat of being ripped apart by something inhuman. But whatever unseen higher power must have said no. Sypha was right (again); god truly does hate them.

Trevor tries to rationalize as best he can. “Maybe it’s alright if we’re not like normal friends. You have to admit, none of us are particularly ‘normal’ people to begin with.”

Sypha cocks an eyebrow. “Are you calling me strange?”

“I’m calling everyone strange, myself included.” She doesn’t know how that answer is supposed to make her feel better, yet it does. Trevor always has his own peculiar way with words. His eyes then briefly light up as he reaches into one of the pouches attached to his belt. “Almost forgot. I came here to give you this.” Something calls from his hand before dangling from a thin chain—a six-pointed star made from silver, the bane of every night creature.

“A Magen David?” Sypha takes the necklace and holds it in her palms, unfortunately cracked and turned dry from the frigid air outside. It’s simple, maybe even the simplest piece of jewelry she’s ever seen, but it feels heavy. Sacred.

“Found a couple of those down in the Hold; enough for all three. They’re meant to protect the wearer. Went looking for them last time we were there but couldn’t find any in time. It’s not much...”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Trevor almost returns a smile to Sypha until a knife plunges its way into the centre of his back—at least it feels that way. A sharp pain that slowly dulls while coursing through his body as easy as the blood in his veins. He grits his teeth behind closed lips, trying to hide the discomfort but like Trevor, Sypha is perceptive.

“Everything alright? Did you injure yourself?”

“Might have. My fucking back and chest have been itching to be the death of me for a couple days now.”

“I didn’t know you were that old,” Sypha giggles. Trevor’s reaction is amusingly frustrated.

“I’m not.”

“You should speak to Alucard about your pain. He might be able to help.”

“Well, I did plan on finding him but how would he know what to do?”

“His mother was a doctor. He might have inherited some of her knowledge.” Trevor heads towards the door, even when Sypha isn’t finished talking yet. He needs to listen and hopefully learn from this last piece of advice. “You could also use this opportunity to settle your differences.”

She receives a flippant scoff in response. Typical. “I’ve already settled my differences with him.”

“You know what I mean, Trevor.”

He does, but only after a moment of thought. There’s no witty comeback, no stubborn retaliation, and no self-preserving denial; only acceptance. He and Alucard haven’t really made up—not in the way that adults are supposed to. Some things need to be settled through words and not only through vaguely charitable acts. Trevor leaves Sypha to her own work with the tentative hope that Alucard will feel just as willing.

--

The castle is alive.

Dracula said this to his son the day he took him into the engine room. Adrian was getting old enough, thus it was about time for the boy to learn. Despite his grand stature looming over everyone and everything, Dracula always felt dwarfed by the massive gears and pumps emitting billows of steam. His son even more so; like a mouse amongst the giants that breathed life into his own home.

But the lord of vampires was secure in the knowledge that Adrian wouldn’t remain a mouse for much longer. Soon he would have power, duties, and responsibilities. Which was why Dracula felt it necessary to show him the very ribcage of the castle along with its ever-beating heart stationed at the front—a geometric device hovering above a pedestal that rotated on command without a single touch of one’s finger. A bloodless, meatless organ in which Dracula poured his very intellect and soul into.

Now it means nothing. Pieces of black iron and dirtied gold lay scattered upon the very altar that once held them. Worthless. At least to a stranger’s naked eye. Alucard holds up one of the triangles against the bright winter sunlight pouring through the towering windows. It seems as though he’s done this a hundred times before and always comes to the same conclusion: the castle cannot be fixed.

And yet it remains alive, now more so than ever. Alucard noticed this immediately. In his efforts to create the perfect machination that bent to his every will, Dracula must have miscalculated. For when does a home feel truly alive? When there are beating hearts residing within its walls.

Alucard almost loses himself in his own thoughts—a common occurence—until he hears footsteps close behind. Followed by an exasperated “fucking finally...”

“You still know how to announce yourself.” Without turning around, he places the castle’s broken heart back with its brothers and sisters as the familiar presence draws nearer.

“And you’ve still mastered the art of sulking off by yourself.”

“What do you need, Belmont? Usually you don’t come to me willingly unless you want to say something important or crude.”

“It’s not all that important.”

“Then it must be crude.”

Another flinch from Trevor, which Alucard notices out of the corner of his eye. But the hunter manages a smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A second mildly humorous jab almost makes its way out into the open until Trevor receives a look which tells him he should choose his next words very carefully, so he does. “I do need your help with something.”

“Yes, I can see that now.”

“How?”

“You’re slouching more than usual, and you seem discomforted.”

Sure, if you want to use that term. “It’s my back and chest. Must have been all those nights sleeping in that cramped wagon or swinging around the whip, but I’m worried it’ll get worse before it gets better. You know more about medicine than anybody else so...”

Alucard’s cold expression melts; did he just hear a hint of bashfulness in that last sentence? How interesting. Normally Sypha’s the only one who can bring out that hidden side of Trevor. It’s more than enough to convince Alucard. “Alright. Let me have a look at it.” He walks down the altar steps and gestures for Trevor to follow him.

“Wait, just like that?”

“I’m not cruel, Belmont. And I can’t have you injured right before we make our way to Castle Cel Tradat.”

They leave the engine room, which bears more of a resemblance to some grotesque art installation with melted gears and pillars that have hardened over a period of time than a well-oiled facility. “Is that why you’re up here? Trying to figure out how to move this thing so we don’t have to travel like regular human beings.”

“We’ll arrive fine enough using that old wagon of yours.”

“But is it actually possible to get the castle working again?”

Alucard leads Trevor into a different, smaller room filled with more books, more glass vials, and decides to leave the question open-ended. He would have answered a while ago: “this castle is as dead as the man who created it”. Now he’s not so certain. “Sit up on the table.” A convenient way of diverging the subject, to which Trevor thankfully doesn’t pry about any further.

“Am I your first patient?”

“Only if you don’t count childhood toys and small animals.”

Trevor glances over his shoulder at Alucard, whose hands are hovering dangerously close to his body. He lets out a regrettable chuckle. “That wasn’t meant to be taken literally, right?”

“You will be fine. You said it was your back and chest that hurt the most, correct?” Trevor mumbles out a presumable “yes”. Alucard reaches around, placing his fingers upon his ribcage just below his left breast. His touch is firm like a doctor’s yet gentle like a friend’s. He presses into the soft flesh. “Breathe into this hand.” Trevor’s breaths are shaky despite his efforts to keep them long and deep. His ribs barely move due to the pain. He’s stiff, understandably so not only because of his ailment. Alucard tempers his hold on him.

“You’re very warm,” he says with a smile (grateful that Trevor can’t see it else he’d have to explain himself). But his statement is true; he can feel it even though the worn fabric. A comfortable, soothing warmth. If he’s not careful, his hand might sink into the hunter, followed by the rest of himself.

“Is that some kind of diagnosis?”

“No. Just an observation.” Perhaps a compliment as well if Alucard swallowed his lingering pride and just admitted to it.

His hands continue their course along Trevor’s back muscles, searching for any abnormalities, any sources of his irritation. He thinks about every scar and bruise he might have passed over. How many are small; small enough to heal on their own? How many did Trevor have to stitch up with his own bloody, trembling fingertips? As Alucard reaches the other side of his chest, he dismisses any questions concerning past scars. He knows Trevor wouldn’t want to talk about that—not with him. Not yet.

“Well? Am I going to live?”

“Oh, absolutely. It isn’t that serious. A few displaced ribs, that’s all.”

“... sorry, my ribs are what?”

“When you strain your body too much or have poor posture, your ribs can slide out of place. It’s common and easily fixed. I’m shocked this hasn’t happened to you sooner.”

“You know, it’s bad bedside manners to insult the patient.”

“And you would know a lot about manners.”

“Enough to fill a book.”

Alucard tries to hide his smirk—and another snide remark. A very short book, maybe. Adjusting the positions of his hands, he forces Trevor to sit up a bit straighter. “Start counting. You’ll feel much better before you reach ten.”

Unlikely, but Trevor plays along. “One... two... three... four... fi—Jesus fuck!” It lasts for only a few seconds, the feeling that every bone in his body has been broken apart then hastily put back together. At least it’s short-lived. Hand presses against chest as Trevor takes a breath, vocalizing his surprise and whatever’s left of the pain through long-winded gasps. Alucard pats his back, rather pleased with himself.

“Go rest and try not to move too strenuously. You’ll also need to hold something cool against your ribcage. I suggest a damp cloth.”

“Thanks.”

“No need. You could have done it yourself.”

“I still appreciate the help.”

Alucard could let things lie; he’s been blunt and honest with Trevor enough already. Yet his next question won’t leave him alone until it’s let loose. “Why did you come to me? Was it so we could bury the hatchet together?” He pretends to busy himself with another task, unable to watch Trevor’s expression—and unwilling to show his own. The response he receives is... unexpected. A strange sort of comfort.

“I buried that hatchet the moment you decided to stop swinging that needle of yours at me. I just enjoyed pushing your many, many buttons.”

“... I acted like a spiteful brat, didn’t I? You can say so.”

Still feeling tender from the sudden rearrangement of his bones, Trevor joins him as they stand in front of a cabinet filled with things both scientific and occult. Consolation is not the strongest suit of his. There was so little of it during his own life, giving it seems almost alien to him. But he tries. With a simple touch on Alucard’s shoulder, he tries. “We both did. At least we can admit to it now.”

Words stop there, for the moment. Trevor remains at Alucard’s side in an unsure manner. Is this how it’s done? Have they finally made up? Buried the hatchet as they put it? In the midst of his over-thinking, he remembers why else he sought out the dhampir. “Here.” Trevor slips the same Magen David necklace into his cold hand. “Sypha’s got one as well. Thought it might help us when we’re inside the castle.”

Alucard stares down, entranced by the piece of silver in his palm, prompting Trevor to say something a bit too revealing. “Once when I was fifteen, I tried to do some good and handed these around to local communities, so they’d be protected. Made them from sticks and twine I picked off from the roads... felt stupid doing it.”

“Efforts to commit good deeds are never stupid.” Alucard retorts, his voice softer than usual.

Thanks for the vote of confidence. “I managed to get a rabbi to bless them. They actually worked fine until...”

“Until what?”

“Nothing. Forget about it.”

The word “pogrom” tastes like bile in Trevor’s mouth. He’d like nothing more than to spit it out and stomp on it until it’s nothing more than a stain upon the stone floor. But he wants to leave this meeting with Alucard on a much lighter note—or as light as he can make it. “I’ll leave you to... whatever it was you were doing.”

“Trevor...” Before either one can realize what was just said in place of “Belmont”, Alucard swiftly regains his stoic composure. “A bath might also help. With your ribs, I mean.”

Trevor snorts. “Sure. For my ribs.” He leaves the room, determined to own the last witticism spoken between them. Alucard lets him have it, but not begrudgingly. He’s more focused on how the Magen David hangs perfectly in the v of his shirt’s neckline, sitting against his bare skin. It feels warm atop the scar, though that could be from when it was held in Trevor’s hand.

--

DECEMBER 31

The hunter, the scholar, and the former sleeping soldier make good use of their time. When the day comes and they follow the sun as it descends across the sky, each carries an arsenal of their own. Sypha’s head is full of new spells as though it might burst. Alucard’s sword is sharp enough to cut a single drop of ice water in half. Trevor’s belt is heavy with blades large and small, resting next to his beloved Morningstar. He might as well be married to it.

The Magen Davids hang off their necks, swaying and dangling with every bump the wagon drives over. Tiny pieces of armour they’ve put most of their faith in, but not all of it. The rest goes to each other for support, protection, and morale.

Up in the Carpathian Mountains, the wind blows differently. Through the dense woods, it howls and batters against the wagon’s canvas covering, blowing ice into exposed eyes and exposed skin. The three shelter themselves into the furs around their shoulders as best they can hoping to either wait out or outrun this squall. Then the mountains become quiet and clear the deeper they venture, like a graveyard in the dead of night. Not a single falling snowflake to obscure their vision. Until they turn round another corner on the road, kicking bits of snow and dirt into the ravine below.

The travelers hear Castle Cel Tradat before they see it. Jovial and celebratory music that cuts through the silence, growing in volume as they drive closer—just as Alucard described it. The castle itself seems humble; stout with thick walls and a set of four towers on each corner. Not a ruin similar to the Belmont abode and nowhere near the profuse architectural opulence of Dracula’s. From a distance, the dim torch fire that lines the entrance look like fireflies in the darkness.

They leave the wagon at the foot of the bridge; any closer and they fear something might happen to the horses. Trevor takes a moment to pat their snouts and gives them a few dried apple rings before catching up with his companions. In a rare sight to see (at the suggestion of Alucard no less), all three are dressed in the same dark tones save for their halos of grey fur.

“Someone should tell him we’re going to a wedding, not a funeral.” Trevor whispered to Sypha before they left. He soon realized the mistake of his comment. Perhaps they are attending a funeral and they’re the only ones who know it. As they make their way down the bridge alongside other attendees comprised of both ghosts and unfortunate living nobles who never bothered to read up on their history, Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard wordlessly hope they won’t end up betraying themselves or their true intentions.

“Invitation,” demands one of the gateway guards. Alucard slips the rolled-up parchment out of his coat pocket and presents it. “And these two?” Just as the guard makes eye contact with Trevor, he carefully hides the Belmont crest beneath the folds of his cloak. No particular reason, only an old habit.

“My guests. I assume guests are permitted?”

The guard pauses for a thankfully brief moment. “Go on in. Straight through the doors.” Alucard and Sypha bow out of respect, but Trevor glances over his shoulder as they ascend the front steps. It all feels too easy; he didn’t even check for weapons. The Cel Tradats must have been incredibly trusting or woefully naive that night they all died.

It’s a short walk to the grand hall. If it weren’t for the stench of old blood clouding Alucard’s heightened senses, he would assume the place had been untouched by death. Dresses and fine tunics move across the tapestries in a thick haze caused by candlelight smoke, one can barely see to the other side of the room. Cinnamon, winter cranberries, and pine tree furs line the tables alongside an endless multitude of food. Sypha has never seen so much meat or drink in one sitting. If the butchers and farmers of Targoviste’s most bountiful markets could witness this sight, they would weep as though on their mother’s deathbed. People laugh, cheer, and dance upon the centre floor. They live like they’ve never lived before.

Trevor quickly takes hold of Sypha’s wrist and the back of Alucard’s coat. “Don’t eat or drink anything,” he warns in a dire tone. Neither one needs an explanation as to why. Rather than join the revelry, they hurry off to the side out of sight.

“Look. Up at the front.” Alucard is the first to find Sofia overlooking her merry subjects, seated halfway between the Cel Tradats and the Lupeis, now an envoi of both houses. A sparrow and a wolf. Full rosy cheeks, brown irises deeper than the richest chocolate, and long red hair like a river of blood. Her husband with wide eyes and an even wider smile is almost as beautiful as his wife.

“They seem so happy.” And unaware, Trevor thinks to himself.

Sypha chimes in with her own opinions. “There wasn’t much written about Darius Lupei in the history tomes. Apparently, he was an idiot... but at least a loving idiot.”

“One of us needs to warn her. But don’t make a spectacle of it otherwise this entire room will be thrown into chaos.”

“What about the assassin?”

“We will need to find them as well without drawing any attention.”

“So, we stop Sofia from being murdered and the whole night goes on without a hitch.” There’s skepticism in Trevor’s voice, which doesn’t surprise Alucard. “Is that supposed to bring peace to her soul along with the rest here?”

Sypha turns to Alucard and waits for an answer. He’d say “yes”, but it would be dishonest of him to even think that he knew what they were doing. “I don’t know. But it’s worth it to try.”

Trevor lets out a heavy breath; a common response when he doesn’t feel like analyzing the gritty details of a plan. “Not exactly a traditional exorcism. I’ll go warn Sofia.” Barely a step forward and Alucard already stops him.

“I said don’t make a spectacle of it.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning you have as much subtlety and tact as a kitten drunk on milk.”

Sypha mutters “he does have a point” under her breath to no avail as Trevor turns to her, shocked and a little insulted. “You have to admit, Trevor, negotiations are not your strongest skill. You’re better at ending fights with that whip than you are with words.”

“Traitors. The both of you.”

Alucard’s golden eyes narrow with growing frustration. “We don’t have time for petty squabbles. I will go speak with Sofia.”

Trevor places a palm against his chest and holds him back. “She’ll take one look at your fangs and start screaming about a vampire in her court.”

“Boys...”

“Can you keep your voice down?”

“I am keeping my voice down!” Trevor’s short-lived outburst carries itself throughout the hall, attracting the attention of a few confused onlookers. Fortunately, they return to their own little worlds while the music plays on. Alucard and Sypha push their hunter towards the nearest wall, silencing him with their hands. 

“If we let you walk up there and request an audience with the bride, will you please be quieter?” Trevor nods, which is enough for them. An unseen clock ticks ever closer to the fated moment between Sofia and the assassin’s dagger; it would be better if they hurried. Alucard and Sypha let go, exasperated but willingly. 

“I’ll watch your back in case something happens.”

“I’ll search for the assassin.” Alucard pulls Trevor in close. “Please do not make me beg for you to not fuck this up.”

“When have I ever?”

A sharp inhale, then Alucard decides to let it be. The two men set off in opposite directions while Sypha’s cheeks burn hot with irritation towards both of them. She hides behind a pillar and keeps an eye on Trevor as he navigates himself through the sea of dancers. Her fingertips tingle with fiery embers and the cold prick of ice, yet she holds back. Not yet and if all goes well, not tonight.

“You seem to have your hands full with those two.” A different voice speaks up. Sypha ignores the comment, assuming she had just received a snippet of some unrelated conversation. That it wasn’t meant for her.

The same voice speaks again. “Friends of yours, I presume.”

Still composure turns into masked panic. Sypha’s heart thumps against her ribcage in an almost painful manner. She could stay focused on the tuff of Trevor’s fur cloak as it weaves as it weaves amongst moving bodies, or she could make absolutely certain of one thing: how much did they hear?

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop on strangers.” She does not face whoever’s talking.

“It’s also not polite to refuse a bride and groom’s generosity.”

Sypha remains where she stands, but glances at the crowded tables against her better judgement—one woman, not quite elderly but past middle age, stares at her with friendly curiosity. Sypha tries to avoid another instance of eye contact. “I am not hungry.”

The woman laughs. “You don’t have to eat anything, though it would be preferred if you did. Just come and be present.”

Impulse pushes against intuition as Sypha struggles with herself. If it will please the woman (and possibly shut her up), then fine. She can watch Trevor just as easily from the tables. Finding an empty yet claustrophobic space on one of the benches, Sypha squeezes in between a happy drunkard and her sudden enabler. Already her body wants to close in on itself or leave altogether.

“There. Now I’m present,” she mutters bitterly.

“Well you’ve got quite the tongue... that’s meant to be a compliment, love.” Sypha gives her a hesitant smirk, which fades the longer she speaks. “Though it can’t be easy putting up with two men who have so much pride.”

Sypha scratches the tip of her index fingernail along the table wood until it nearly falls off. She isn’t in the mood for conversation, even with a harmless ghost who seems to understand her. Still, the urge to play the woman’s game is too much and Sypha has just the response for her. “It is easy enough. Find something that gently wounds their pride and they are like puppies with their tails tucked between their legs.”

The woman chokes on her gulp of ale before letting out another laugh that sounds too big for her thin frame. Personally, Sypha didn’t think the joke was that funny but she appreciates the reaction. “And I would not trade either of them for anyone else in all of Wallachia.”

A few drops of the woman’s drink might have somehow made its way into Sypha’s veins, but she speaks truthfully. She’s always let the truth be heard; it’s molded her into the person she is now. Honesty makes her and those around her stronger. So perhaps she should save this particular truth for the ones who need to hear it most.

All these unfocused thoughts cause Sypha to drift away from what’s important, what matters right now in the moment. Only the woman’s next inquiry brings her back, but not in the way she wanted. “Is that why you’re not with your family right now?”

Sypha’s stare drives daggers into the woman’s throat while she sits there and simply drinks her ale, aware and uncaring. “Doesn’t surprise me. You don’t really belong with the Speakers anymore, do you? Bit of an outsider. There are other scholars of magic, of course, but none quite like you. That’s another compliment. It might be best that you stay away from them for a while... maybe forever.” 

Fire and ice surge their way through Sypha’s hot blood, begging to be released. Anger dulls her senses along with her movements. “I will never abandon my people.”

“You already have, love. You abandoned them when you agreed to join that hunter and the bastard son of a vampire.”

Sypha’s first instinct is towards violence. She wants to slap the woman with the backside of her hand or wrap her fingers around her neck and squeeze as tight as possible or place an iron hot palm against her cheek and give her something to talk about with her friends and neighbours. But none of it would matter. Sypha tears herself away from the table and regains control. The castle’s deceptions will not get inside of her so easily.

Only now does she notice the smell of sour fruit, moldy bread, and rotting meat being picked apart by greedy flies. Flies to an open stable.

--

If Alucard were thinking straight, he would have found the assassin by now. If he had found the assassin, this night would be done and the three of them would be on their way back to Castle Dracula. If they were back home, he would be in bed savouring his first peaceful sleep now that he’s no longer alone. But none of those wishes have come to fruition. Alucard’s search leads him away from the wedding feast and down into one of the side corridors. Darkness has never given him much trouble, yet here it blurs his vision. If only he held a torch or even a simple candle.

“Lost, sir?” Alucard turns to face a tall woman with broad shoulders dressed in the same funeral-coloured garb as he. There’s rouge upon her sharp cheekbones, dark hair held back by a golden pin, and demeanour cold yet polite. She must be the Lupei matriarch.

Alucard’s immediate response is to bow courteously, despite his hand twitching closer to the holt of his sword. He could consider Lady Lupei to be the real assassin, but she would never dirty her hands in such a direct way. Killing her now would only quicken the oncoming madness. Better to make an excuse than to act on rash thinking. “Apologies, my lady. I simply wandered off for some fresh air. If you will pardon me—”

“No, I do believe you are lost. You’ve been lost for some time.”

“I’m sorry...?” Her steps towards him are slow, calculated. She keeps a coldly gentle expression on her serene face. Alucard tries to look past the Lady, his eyes searching for the warm glow of the grand hall. He sees nothing, only more of the same corridor he finds himself trapped in. The song of his sword waiting to be unsheathed rings louder in his ears.

“I know you like to think it wasn’t your fault. Once your father went mad, there was nothing more you could have done to pull him back.”

The tip of Alucard’s fang grazes his lower lip, drawing blood. Just a drop, but the taste of metal floods his mouth. “You know nothing of me or my father.”

“But I do know. When you get to live as long as I do and see people for what they truly are, you come to know a lot of things. How you lie to yourself and those around you. How you think it will help mask your guilt and shame.”

“There is no guilt!” Alucard’s voice suddenly cracks. Lady Lupei continues to descend upon him as a shadow—like his father did that night of the blood moon. “My hand was forced... I had no other choice.”

She laughs; more out of bitterness and anger than amusement. “You’re just like my husband. Nothing but excuses.”

“Leave me be, damned spirit.”

“When your father’s ashes scattered to the winds, you should have turned that very same stake against your own heart. Why not do it now? You have your blade, so finish what you started.”

Alucard feels his hand grow heavy. He looks down and sees the silver of his blade trembling. Steadying himself, he knows how to use it. Forget his previous hesitance; if Lady Lupei is in his presence, then better to end this cursed night now. If only she were still here. Raising his head, he realizes that he’s been left alone—and with no easy way of returning. Alucard turns in both directions; the corridor has no end in sight. The castle, its ghosts, the curse, none of them are through with him yet. He sheathes the sword back in its place and follows the faint sound of music.

--

What’s the polite way of saying “your mother-in-law is about to brutally murder you”?

Trevor snakes a path across the floor, resisting the increased urge to push everyone aside and march straight up to Sofia before pulling her away. Knock the goblet out of her hand, spilling expensive wine all over her pretty wedding dress. She’d struggle, kick about, possibly curse like a sailor in their faces. A small price to pay for sparing her from a violent fate. It would be so easy if they all moved out of the fucking way.

Closer now; it seems he’s been getting closer for hours. The floor feels soft beneath his boots. Yet she’s still out of reach. Maybe if I just shout at her. Trevor remembers the “promise” he made to Alucard and Sypha, but to hell with it. They want this night over with as much as he does.

Something crashes into him. Trevor spins around, thrown off his already weakened equilibrium, and is carried away from Sofia by one of the dancers shoving himself into his arms. “You’re a handsome one!”

“Would you let me go...”

“Come and dance! It will clean that scowl right off your face.”

“Thank you but no thank you. I need to—” He doesn’t care for his protests, no one does. They hand him off from dancer to dancer; it’s a miracle he hasn’t tripped over himself yet. In his disorientation, Trevor is struck by a familiarity. A much better time than this. He said he didn’t want to dance, never learned it enough as a child so it would be at best humiliating and at worst painful as an adult. The Speakers convinced him otherwise—they always manage to. Placing a crown of wildflowers atop his head, he turned away so they wouldn’t see how red his cheeks grew. He couldn’t hide it forever, not when Sypha took his hands and lovingly teased him. That night felt like a dream blessed enough to be real. It felt like something he’d been missing for so long.

“It felt like home.” Trevor stops, unsure if the voice came from him or one of the dancers. He’s not given the luxury of time to think or resist when he’s thrown into another’s arms, then another’s.

“You miss that feeling. You miss having a home.”

“You miss being part of a family.”

“You can have a home here. You can stay if you would let yourself.”

“Come home.”

“Mother? Father?” There’s a warm sensation in Trevor’s stomach that burns and aches. Home, family, and stay meld together spoken by the sickly-sweet tones of the dancers and the voices of two dead Belmonts. His worst nights after crawling into the very bottle he emptied at a local tavern were never so terrible.

“Trevor! Trevor, look at me!” Cold hands press on either side of his head, dragging him away from all the suffocating bodies. Eyes shut tightly; he now finds the will to fight back.

“Fuck off of me! I want to go home!”

“Trevor, it’s me. Calm down.” He tears open his watery eyes and feels his heartbeat slow when Sypha wraps her arms around him. Trevor holds her, terrified that she might fade as all the other ghosts will. Even more scared of what he had contemplated.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry.”

“It’s just the curse. You’re alright.” Sypha repeats it until Trevor can believe it himself. He catches a glimpse of Sofia—does she know? From the way she laughs and clings to her husband’s side, she evidently may not.

“Sypha, where the hell is Alucard?”

“Honourable allies of the Lupeis and the Cel Tradats.” Trevor, Sypha, and the rest of the party turn in the direction of the announcer. “May I present to you, Sir Darius Lupei of House Lupei.”

“Shit...” They’ll have to make do without Alucard. While everyone else stands at attention, the two of them use this as an opportunity if not a fleeting one. As Darius begins his speech, they run.

“I wish to thank all of you for witnessing this momentous event. Once the Lupeis and Cel Tradats were enemies. Now through this bond of love and marriage, we are made friends and equals.”

“Stop! Sofia! Lady Sofia! Move, you fucking idiots!”

“We need to speak with Lady Sofia!”

All members of both houses stare in confusion at the man and woman attempting a mad dash towards them. “What is the meaning of this?”

“She’s not safe! None of you are!”

Darius takes pause, considering the roguish man’s warning, yet dismisses it just as quick as he heard it. Sypha should have better taken those passages written about the living but small-minded lord to heart. “Must have let all that drink overtake their common sense. Remove them. They shall be dealt with later.”

Sypha and Trevor wrestle with the guards, driving their feet between their legs and beating fists against armour until their knuckles turn a sickening purple. They create more of a spectacle while Darius carries on with his public address. he extends a hand, places it in Sofia’s, and motions for her to stand.

“May I present to our joined courts, my wife and your new lady, Sofia Cel Tradat Lupei.”

Trevor’s vision is momentarily obscured by his own thrashing, though it does not matter. He, Sypha, and the entire castle hear Sofia’s screams all the same. A dripping rose appears on her white and green dress, spreading over her abdomen and turning her fingers a similar dark coloured red. Darius’ own shouts of shock devolve into choking gurgles as knives slash across his throat. The grand hall erupts like a pack of beasts let loose from their cages to attack whoever is nearest. There’s panic from all except Lady Lupei and her house, including the guards that hold Trevor and Sypha. They should have noticed the wolves on their chest plates.

Sypha acts the quickest. One guard shrieks in horror as blue and red ice daggers appear straight through his arms; the other spits blood and teeth upon contact with Trevor’s sword. The two find shelter underneath a table and watch the centuries-old carnage. Sypha never knew ghosts could bleed so much.

They fear the worst for Alucard. The castle with its lies has swallowed him whole. Until another Lupei guard falls dead in front of them, a familiar sword lodged in his back. “Where the fuck were you?” Trevor snarls as a disgruntled dhampir joins them. 

“Trying to survive this wedding, same as you both.” Before any of the bickering can start, a far more dire sight begs for their attention—Sofia and Lady Lupei on the ground, their nails digging into each other, one of their mouths spraying blood the louder she screams.

“This is not working, Alucard. What do we do?”

“It’s too late. I don’t know if there is anything we can do.”

“You’re saying we just let this happen, wait until next year, so this whole shitstorm can repeat itself until we get it right?”

“I would prefer to hear a better plan come out of your mouth, Belmont.”

Alucard is being facetious (to ill effect), but Trevor does have something better in mind. He fiddles with the Magen David like a nervous tick. There is no maybe; this will get him killed, he’s certain of that. When has it ever stopped him?

“Clear a path for me.” He’s already out from under the table before Alucard or Sypha can rightfully question him. They react fast, moving in front so he might have a shield. Fire scorches bodies into blackened cinders; limbs fall to the floor with the effortless swipe of a thin blade; Trevor uses his whip sparingly. He doesn’t touch it when he reaches the bride. She turns with wild eyes, blood seeping through the cracks of her teeth. Rivers of red flow from her stomach and down the steps, mingling with the rest. The tapestries did her rage no justice.

“Don’t touch me!” She violently sputters.

“I just want to talk.” Trevor raises his hands, his voice oddly calm. When she doesn’t listen, he removes his cloak and shows her the embroidered emblem on his breast. Sofia’s fury melts into realization.

“The Belmonts...” As Sofia gazes down at her defiled hands then towards her mutilated court, something shatters within. The past hundred years of darkness and repetition make themselves known. “Merciful god, what have I done...” She whimpers, face wet with tears and blood. “What have I done...”

“Sofia...”

“Get away from me! I know who you are! The Belmonts kill monsters. You’re here to kill me.”

“You’re not a monster.” Along with his cloak, Trevor lays the Morningstar and his Magen David by his feet. Alucard and Sypha stay behind with the shaky hope that he knows what he’s doing. “I know what it’s like to lose your family to violence. Betrayed by the very people you wanted to help. You deserve every right to be pissed off and hate them. But you also deserve peace. You shouldn’t have to continue suffering like this.”

“It hurts so much.”

“I know it’s hard. But let go.”

Sofia forces herself to look up. The tears have turned her bloodshot eyes into shining glass. “If I do, will I face eternal punishment?”

“You won’t.”

It’s quiet behind them. No more sounds of the dying or killing. No more broken bones or blood-filled screams. Sofia grows weary, her last few breathes slow. Pieces of skin begin to peel and float like snowflakes. Before they can see how she’ll fade away back into the annals of history, the windows shatter and release a blizzard that had been waiting far too long to break in. It blows through the grand hall, carrying itself around the castle as a cascade of snow, dust, and wind. The last time a curse was lifted in this manner, there were ashes and the disembodied moans of despair.

Then it’s over. The three of them stand in the middle of a dark empty room. Trevor picks up his belongings, leaving the unchanged Magen David for last. There are no words shared amongst them because they cannot find the right ones. Alucard steps up, perturbed by Trevor’s silence. He offers a hand on his shoulder for comfort, mirroring what Sypha once did for him, but his touch is too light for Trevor to really notice.

“We should go.” After such a bout of silence, Sypha’s voice makes them jump slightly. They leave the castle in its true abandoned state and hope never to come back. Perhaps a brief visit at the end of every Yule to place flowers where Sofia used to stand.

Halfway across the bridge, Sypha turns her head up to the snow speckled skies. Shouts of merriment and well-earned victory grace her ears; the arrival of a hunt returning with its spoils. Though she cannot see it, nor is she completely certain of its presence.

“You alright?” Asks Trevor.

“... I thought I heard something.”

--

JANUARY 1

The first early morning of the new year is always strange, even stranger to spend it alone inside Dracula’s castle. A disheartened hunter, a thoughtful scholar, and a tired dhampir retreat to his library without so much as a “happy new year”. They should sleep and yet they crowd onto the same chair, silently wishing for someone to lighten the mood before shuffling off to bed.

While the other two stare at their feet, Sypha looks around for some topic of small conversation. Her eyes eventually bring her to the top of a bookshelf, squinting at a tiny branch of green leaves which didn’t seem to be hanging there before.

“Mistletoe?”

Alucard overhears her mutter and glances upwards. His explanation is very matter of fact, with no joy. “Sometimes pieces of nature will appear on their own... an old spell put in place by my father to make my mother happy. He never had the need for growing things before he met her.”

Sypha knows the traditions and the good superstitions, despite never partaking in their origins. Standing up (the first one taking initiative to do so), she kisses Trevor’s cheek then does the same on Alucard’s forehead. “Shame to waste it.”

The boys are left in pleasant surprise—and with ideas of their own, especially on Alucard’s part. He doesn’t want to end the night with nothing to say to Trevor. They’ll step into this new year on good footing. Just when the Belmont least expects it, Alucard kisses his opposite cheek. An admittedly risky act on its own accords, but he thinks it was worth it to try.

“I was wrong. You did well tonight.”

Pink faced, Trevor’s gaze never leaves Alucard until he’s through the door and out of sight. “Mistletoe is supposed to be poisonous; you know.” He says to no one in particular.

[chicagocityofclans]

Rhiannon Draga → Chyler Leigh → Witch

→ Basic Information

Age: 1081

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual 

Powers: Heliokinesis

Birthday: June 21st 

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

Religion: Hellenism 

Mark: O Mordha ( Moore )

Generation: 1st

 → Her Personality

Rhiannon has always been motherly, starting first with her younger twin brother and continuing on. In her present stage of life it comes out very clearly in regards to the treatment of her children and her mentees. It can also come across when she deals with younger patients in the emergency room. She is known for being one of the more gentle mentors - often being the one to take on mentees that need a more gentle hand to get them to come out of their shell.   Those with her family’s mark are known to be ambitious and innovative when it comes to growing with their magic. Rhiannon uses this in her work as a Charms Master as well as in her mentoring. Due to her working with mentees that may need a gentler hand, Rhiannon tasks herself with coming up with ways to get them to come into their powers. She likes to have them build up their network of friends and contacts so that they can branch out and learn. Her ambition can get the better of her when it comes to her work in the medical field, and it is largely the reason she became a surgeon in two different areas, and has been contemplating getting another degree in the next couple decades or so. 

Despite her motherly nature, Rhiannon can be known for being rather impulsive in nature. While this trait has calmed slightly since her marriage to Vlad and the birth of their children, she can get into rather sticky situations. She is also rather possessive of her family, something Fallon seems to have inherited from her, much to Rhiannon’s dismay. She has a great awareness of this trait and has been working on controlling her possessiveness to try and move past it. She has gotten better, but she still struggles with it. Her age can make her prone to bouts of depression, which tends to be worse during the cold winter months. She tries to focus on various activities during this time in the hopes of combatting her moods. During these months, it is far easier for her anger to fly out of control and for her to become vindictive or cruel to those who push her too far.  Her anger is also something that she is working on - again, her husband and children being the major factor in her wanting to get it under control. She also doesn’t like to become harsh with her mentees and it can be a problem during her depressive moods. 

 → Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Trauma and Plastic Surgeon and Charm Master

Scars: 3 Claw Mark Scars From a Cat Shifter 

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Early Morning Runs and Experimenting with Charms

Two Dislikes: Pineapple and Cinnamon 

Two Fears: Losing Her Family and Cages

Two Hobbies: Making Pottery and Making Charms

Three Positive Traits: Ambitious, Compassionate, Gentle  

Three Negative Traits: Stubborn, Possessive, Impulsive 

→Her Connections

Parent Names:

Aurina (Mother): Rhiannon had a strained relationship with her mother almost from the start. Aurina favored Deaglan over Rhiannon, often leaving her on her own. As Rhiannon got older it only became worse, eventually leading to Rhiannon’s leaving.

Sibling Names:

Deaglan Moore (Brother): Rhiannon is older than Deaglan by 2 minutes and the short time did nothing to quell her motherly instincts. However, due to Aurina’s very obvious favoritism of Deaglan, the two fought often all the way up to when Rhiannon left home. They reconnected years later and have since worked through their issues. The two are extremely close and have made sure to keep in touch over the centuries. 

Children Names:

Fallon Draga (Daughter): Rhannon and Fallon have a challenging relationship. She tries to spend as much time with her and Alucard as her busy schedule will allow. However, she is very aware of Fallon’s feelings about her mentoring another Heliokinetic. Rhiannon sat down with Fallon recently to talk to her about attending therapy about the jealousy issues currently directed at Raul. Fallon agreed and Rhiannon is thinking about taking some time off in the next few years to dedicate to spending time with her husband and children. 

Alucard Draga (Son): Alucard is far easier to deal with than his sister. He has always been the calmer of the two, and he doesn’t share the same issues as Fallon when it comes to having jealousy. Rhiannon loves that Alucard finds it so easy to make friends and she is thankful that has hobbies that he enjoys so much. She does her best to make it to his lacrosse games to cheer him on. 

Romantic Connections:

Cormac Flynn (Late Husband): Rhiannon and Cormac met and married when she was in her early 20’s. They were married for about a decade before he was fatally injured in a battle. Losing Cormac was heartbreaking for Rhiannon and is an underlying cause to her sometimes over protective tendencies towards her family. 

Vladimir Draga (Husband): Rhiannon and Vlad have been together for almost 300 years. He is the only person she had wanted to start a family with since her first husband died. Vlad means everything to her and she is happier now with Vlad than she has ever been before. Vlad always seems to know what she is thinking and what she needs. 

Platonic Connections:

Nathaniel Clarke (Mentee): Rhiannon took Nathaniel as a mentee due to his powers and overly quiet nature. She is hoping that since their powers compliment each other, it will help him feel more comfortable and he will come out of his shell.

Raul Santiago (Mentee): She was thrilled to find out that another Helio user was in Chicago and more than happy to mentor him. He is doing well, and she is pleased with his progress on his advanced powers. She allows him to sit down with Vlad on their days out of training in order for him to learn spell crafting. 

Lyla Wilhelm (Former Mentee): Lyla caught her eye when Lyla and Emmett moved to Chicago. Rhiannon approached her offering her a mentor ship and the two became fast friends. Their relationship was close enough that when Lyla and Emmett wanted Vlad to train Audo, Rhiannon was more than happy to speak with her husband. Lyla has always been a figure in her children’s lives as well, taking care of them when they were little and Rhiannon and Vlad had engagements to take care of. Rhiannon already knows that if she and Vlad were to ever have more children, she would trust them with Lyla in a heartbeat. 

Emmett Wilhelm (Friendly): Despite her husband’s dislike of Emmett, Rhiannon is quite friendly with him. The two met through Emmett’s wife Lyla while Rhiannon was training her, and Rhiannon even spoke to Vlad about mentoring Audo for them. 

Eimear (Former Mentor): Eimear is the first of the supernatural world that Rhiannon ever came into contact with. She travelled with Eimear for a large portion of her early life, learning how to control her powers and blend into human society. They parted ways not long after Rhiannon reached her mid-500’s.  Rhiannon hears from Eimear very rarely, but the two have kept in touch.

Kudzai Rinker (Friend/Council Member): Rhiannon is friends with both Kudzai and Minsky outside of being Council Members together, and she and Vlad used to join them for couples night. Having a friend who is around her age is a great help when it comes to understanding melancholy that can take hold of witches and warlocks. Rhiannon’s heart broke for Kudzai and Minsky when Jamie died, and she has done everything she can to be there for her friend. 

Minsky Edison (Friend/Council Member): Minsky is one of Rhiannon’s close friends. The two met some time ago and have gotten on well ever since. They have been known to spend some time together outside of the council meetings, particularly before he and Kudzai separated when Minsky, Kudzai, Rhiannon and Vlad would all have couple nights together. Rhiannon knows that losing Jamie was hard on both Kudzai and Minsky and tries to be there for anything her friend needs. 

Jace Cicero (Friend/Council Member): Rhiannon considers Jace a friend and is thankful that he took Fallon on as his mentee. She knows that Fallon can be a handful but she also knows that Jace is a dedicated mentor. There is no one else that she would pick to be training her daughter. 

Ronan Cleirigh (Council Member): Aside from Council meetings, Rhiannon does not see a great deal of Ronan. She respects him as a powerful warlock. 

Lawrence Cocci (Former Mentee): Despite their mentoring relationship not lasting very long, Rhiannon and Lawrence keep in touch. She was glad that even with their short time together she was able to help him learn and master his phoenix form. 

Nathan Cleirigh (Friend): Rhiannon and Fallon both go and see Nathan regularly, and Rhiannon has sent patients to him. 

Viktor Draga (Brother-In-Law): Viktor and Vara were both travelling with Vlad when Rhiannon met them. Rhiannon has always been close to Viktor and enjoys spending her time with him. The two of them got into a lot of trouble when they were younger and traveling. Rhiannon enjoys those memories. 

Vara Sookram (Sister-In-Law): Viktor and Vara were both travelling with Vlad when Rhiannon met them. Vara and Rhiannon have a standing brunch date set for every Thursday. Rhiannon often goes to Vara when she wishes to discuss things to surprise Vlad. 

Villard Draga (Brother-In-Law): Villard is the youngest of Vlad’s siblings. They don't really get along well, as Villard tends to act too immature for both her and Vlad’s liking, making it a rare thing when he comes to visit. 

Vaughn Draga (Brother-In-Law): Vaughn is the eldest of Vlad’s siblings, but is the newest addition to the family. Rhiannon likes him and tends to get along with him alright, but she is not as close to Vaughn as she is Viktor and Vara. 

Hostile Connections:

None, Rhiannon doesn’t bother keeping up with it. 

Pets:

Lyr (Maine Coon Cat Familiar): Rhiannon has had Lyr for some time and he is her constant companion. 

→ History

Rhiannon and her twin brother were born to a young woman by the name of Aurina. She and her brother grew up in a small village on the coast of what would later become Ireland. Rhiannon’s childhood was somewhat idyllic, despite a constant tendency to butt heads with her mother. She and her brother were both gifted with great magical prowess, though they both went largely untrained for most of their lives. When Rhiannon reached 20 years old, she had a fight with her mother that ended up leading to her setting off on her own and eventually marrying a young man. However, their marriage didn’t last long, as about 8 years after they married he was killed in a battle between two clans.

Rhiannon then left the area she had lived in for most of her life, wanting to find somewhere to call home. She spent a good 100 to 150 years on her own, teaching herself how to survive. She was alone until she met an older witch by the name of Eimear. Eimear offered to teach Rhiannon how to control her powers and how to properly survive and interact with the mortal world. The two remained together for almost 400 years before Eimear told Rhiannon there was nothing more she could teach her. The two parted ways and Rhiannon began to travel on her own once more.

After some time, Rhiannon came into contact with a warlock named Vladimir Draga and his family. Vladimir and Rhiannon eventually began courting and after some time, were married. She began travelling with them, the family settling every so often as they made their way across the world. Eventually, they made their way to the New World. They moved around the country before settling in what would become Chicago. They have been together for close to 300 years and now have two children, twins named Fallon and Alucard, who were born a little over 70 years ago. → The Present

Rhiannon has been thinking about taking on other mentees in addition to Raul and Nathaniel, but has yet to find anyone that catches her eye. She has also been thinking about focusing on having a mentee that is for charms rather than someone who is for a section of their powers. However, again, she’s yet to find anyone and has begun to wonder if her lack of finding someone is an indicator of needing a break. She has thought about taking time off from being a mentor once Raul and Nathaniel have moved on and just focus on working on her charms. She has also been debating talking to Vlad about them going off somewhere for a decade or so, either with Fallon and Alucard or even just the two of them.

[felixlestrangefmp2]

VAMPIRE MEDIA (idea 1)

Comics- Blade

Blade is a Marvel comic character who first appeared July 1973 as a supporting character in Mobius, another well known comic vampire. Blade is a unique half vampire, who is immune to the bites and tricks such as hypnotism. However unlike typical half vampires in media, he originally didn't possess any powers, instead he used his owns the skill set of martial arts, swordsmanship, marksmanship, and street-fighting. He is also well know to throwing knifes we gave him his name, blade. Blade doesn’t get powers until he runs into that vampire MORBIUS and gains his unique scientifically made powers by being bit, resulting in him becoming something that resembles a dhampir. he also couldn’t go out in sunlight until he became this dhampir, however he did gain the first for blood.

Book- Interview With The Vampire

Interview with the Vampire is a 1976 gothic horror and vampire novel written by American author Anne Rice. The story follows the life of the newly bitten vampire, Louis. The interesting thing about this movie is that its telling the story through a private interview with Louis about how he became a vampire and the immortal life that followed. The primary point of this is to show how a vampires life isn’t pretty and shouldn’t be desired by anyone; the story covers topics like child vampires, loneliness, hunters and the overwhelming dread of having to kill a innocent human to eat. 

This story might have been one of the first and main vampire stories that popularised and romanticised the melancholy tortured soul character that many still love to this day, this was further pushed when its movie adaptation was made staring popular actors such as Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt.

Animated Series- Castlevania 

Castlevania is a Netflix original animated series of the popular 1986 video game of the same name.

The story follows The vampire hunter Trevor Belmont, of the Belmont family, who takes up arms against Dracula forces along side this a magician, Sypha and Draculas son Alucard. However, Dracula isnt painting as an evil villain, instead he was just turned dark after wife was burned at the stake after being accused of witchcraft; furious and distraught, Dracula creates a army of demons and wages war on the people of Wallachia. His wife showed him kindness and that theres love within humanity and the world, but the church along with everyone else ripped it away from him.

i like this version of Dracula, it fits with his classic themes of loosing loved ones, but this series feels fresh and new.

[real-jaune-isms]

Getting to Tag you:

(I was tagged by @miss-pyrrha-nikos-isms. Thanks bestie!

1. Nickname: ... uh, Nicky B, according to my school’s cross country team.

2. Gender: Male. 

3. Star sign: Gemini

4. Height: 5′ 7″ at the most

5. Hogwarts house: I don’t read Harry Potter. So I don’t know.

6. Favorite animal: Well, bats and sharks are pretty cool. But i will never not be impressed/ intimidated by the tardigrade. The Waterbear!

7. Hours of sleep: 7-9 depending on the day. Weekends, I sleep in.

8. Dogs or cats: Both. i’m allergic to cats, but I don’t care. They are so cute. I’ve had both in my life. I have LOVED both.

9. Number of blankets: Sheet, sometimes also blanket, and comforter.

10. Dream Trip: London, Tokyo, or another go to Austin Texas for RTX.

11. Dream job: Psychologist/ therapist.

or else Rooster Teeth employee, such as voice actor, animator or writer. Being in or involved with RWBY is a true dream, and working alongside people like Miles or Barbara would make it exponentially better.

12. Time: 11:26 pm

13. Birthday: May 30

14. Favorite Bands: The Beatles, AC/DC, NSP, Rush, 21 Pilots, Queen, Blue Oyster Cult

15. Favorite Solo Artists: Natewantstobattle, Smooth McGroove, Paul McCartney, Phil Collins.

16. Song stuck in my head: More Than a Feeling, covered by NSP

17. Movie I last watched: Trading Places. Hilarious movie, I tell you that.

18. Show I last watched: RWBY. Volume 5 is NUTS, eh?

19. When did I create my blog: Um... I think roughly... the beginning of this year? I know it was before my birthday.

20. What do I post/reblog: RPs, any people want to do with me.  Memes and cute shipping posts. Anything catching my eye related to a fandom I’m interested in. Really, anything Arkos, Bumbleby or White Rose related. Also, words of encouragement or important issues needing distribution.

21. last thing I googled: “More Than a Feeling lyrics”

22. Other blogs: my personal main, @geminirosche13, and @alucard-isms

23. Do I get asks: Not as many as I’d like, but a good few.

24. Why I chose my url: I found the -ims fam because I was looking for RWBY stuff. I found @jauneisms, and was not fully satisfied with his representation of Jaune. So, I made my own blog to live out all the things I wanted to see happen with Jaune. 

25. Following: 227

26. Followers: 678 (It used to be 694, I don’t know what happened! :( )

27. Lucky number: 13

28. Favorite instrument: there is an awful lot you can do with a guitar, but I also love the calming classical feel of the violin or the piano.

29. What am I wearing: As Barbara would say, ‘pajam-jams’ but really, pajama pants and a t-shirt.

30. Favorite food: burgers or buffalo wings.

31. Nationality: American, not necessarily proud of it.

32. Favorite song: That is a tough choice. At this moment, Im wallowing in the melancholy of “Stale Cupcakes” from Animal Crossing.

33. Last book I read: Hedda Gabler (it was for school, okay!)

34. Three fictional universes I’d like to join: Impossibly tough call. I’d say RWBY, Hellsing, and JoJo.

I tag @rheasmirror @tracer-isms @the-heart-alchemist @rxgingcajxn @raven-isms @alicante-and-stan-isms and @thelastvoidwalker (Anyone who’s already done it, sorry!! I didn’t know.)

[demonfox38]

B, T and U

B— A pairing–platonic,romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed yourmind.

I don’t recall anyone my mind regarding pairings. I’m astubborn ass like that.

T— Do you have anyhard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

A lot of headcanons I have that I can get vitriolic on areregarding Alucard. Usually, regarding how weird he is. This includes:

Pigmentation distortion due to his father’s variant ofvampirism (of which there are many different strains). Less that he’s blondewith hazel eyes, more like vampirism screwing with his development. (Otherwise,he’d probably be black-haired and blue-eyed.)

What he can do with “Dark Metamorphosis” (manipulate his andothers’ blood, trigger genetic functions and rewrite DNA, reattach severedlimbs/organs, steal other people’s limbs/organs)

Regrowth of all lost structures is possible at the cost ofalways having all original structures (i.e., always has vestigial or typicallyremoved features like wisdom teeth, tonsils, an appendix, and foreskin.)

Whatever his sexuality is. I can’t think that a dude who haslived for 600+ years would be exclusive to any particular gender. It’s all ornone, and even then, only when trust has been explicitly established.Additionally, I find it hard to believe he’s had only one significant other.Depending on the species of his SO, he’s had at least 3 “life-long” partners.

U— Three favoritecharacters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

Well, let’s not pretend this isn’t where I’m going.

Alucard (Castlevania)—He’s part of an overarching characterarchetype that I like that is associated with guilt, depression, and thestruggle to take the right action, no matter how much it hurts to do it or howothers perceive it. Maybe even going overboard on it. (Regal Bryant is a closeanalog to him; just a difference of baras and biseinen.) Granted, I have a morephlegmatic approach to writing him than most fans, but I appreciate themelancholy. Maybe feeling like you constantly suck and wanting to be aloneafter working resonates a bit with me.

Raine Sage (Tales of Symphonia)—Raine’s a rare RPG heroine.She’s adventurous and prone to excitable outbursts, but remains mature andcollected in dire situations. She’s a healer, but doesn’t feel vulnerablebecause of it. More like the kind of person to rip bands off. She’s a bit tooquick to smack her students around, but other than that, I think she’s afantastic role model. There’s a realness to her personality. Something whole inits androgynous nature.

Pam Poovey (Archer)—Pam’s basically everything I wish Icould be. It’s not that she’s immune from being hurt by others or beinginsecure about her physical appearance, but she still goes out and does/getswhatever she wants. Food. Fights. Sex. Whatever! Her back tattoo is alsokiller. (Though, pretty much all of the people in this series are awesome. Ijust really admire Pam’s hedonistic drive, especially considering how similar weare in terms of backgrounds.)