savewell | Questlevania | GIRL IN THE TOOOOOOOOOOOWER

[Her nose wrinkles, her pretty face twisting into an expression of open disgust. She almost can't help herself as she replies, the loathing all but dripping from every word.]

Why does any disgusting old wizard snatch up an unsuspecting girl? To keep his house for him, I suppose, or to cut me up for parts in some spell, or —

[...Ah. She'd never actually said it was a wizard that'd taken her, had she...]

So a wizard, was it?

[His voice is wry, his brow arching at Rosella. If it took magic to snatch her away, then it was a reasonable conclusion. Regardless, this simply confirms it.]

How curious. You are a lady of many secrets it seems, Rosella.

[Though perhaps for her own safety. Is that something he could truly blame?]

I hadn't meant to deceive you.

[Her body language shifts almost imperceptibly, now. Where once she'd been comfortable and poised, now she's curled in on herself just a fraction, like she's steeling herself for a fright that she knows is only moments away.]

It's just I didn't know at first if you were acquainted with him. He wears a black cloak, just like you do.

[She becomes smaller than she'd been. A moment ago, she'd been a girl telling jokes, and now she's preparing herself for his wrath.]

Unfortunately for you, black cloaks are quite the common standard for most people.

[Alucard shrugs.]

I cannot be a hypocrite when you are protecting yourself, I suppose.

[...He really doesn't know, then. There wasn't even the slightest flicker of recognition, not even a darting of the eyes or a twitch of the face. What silly, absurd luck she has, to have stumbled on a dangerous man in a castle in the woods completely unaffiliated with the Society of the Black Cloak.

If he's simply a better liar than she thinks, then it doesn't really matter; she's already dead or worse, now that he knows. But she chooses to believe in him. He's been too kind, and too sad, even behind his snarling fangs and flashing red eyes.]

I hope that the kindness you've shown me doesn't make trouble for you, in the long run.

[She draws a shallow breath that shifts inadvertently into a yawn halfway through.]

Do you suppose...could we perhaps talk again, tomorrow? I'm afraid I won't be good company for much longer.

Oh, I expect trouble. But it will be dealt with swiftly, whenever it arrives.

[He wonders if he'd been too kind. Perhaps that is so, but he cannot be too cruel until he has reason more to be.

At her yawn and request, he gives one nod.]

Rest, then. I will give you your privacy.

[Alucard makes his exit, closing the door behind him, hoping deeply he will not come to regret this.]

[She listens for the door latch, just out of instinct, to see if he locks her in once he leaves. But the door is silent, but for the creak of the hinges; if he did turn a key in the lock, he did it so gently as to be imperceptible.

It's only after Alucard is gone that exhaustion really seems to catch up with her. She'd managed to hold it at bay before with the help of the food and the distraction, but now that she's alone and the room is quiet, it's almost all she can do to kick her boots and sorry old dress onto the floor and crawl beneath the warm covers before she's fast asleep once again.

In a perfect world, she might've slept until well past noon, with her head on soft pillows and the blankets pulled up to her chin. But this isn't a perfect world, and she isn't at home safe in her own bed, so when the sunlight comes streaming in her window and turns the room golden with morning, she rolls onto her stomach and buries her face in the pillows and groans once, audibly, before pushing herself up and out of the comforts of the bed.

Her first problem is her tattered dress, which is filthy more with memories than it is with road dirt. It makes her wrinkle her nose to dress in it again, but she sifts through and removes any of her meager collected possessions that won't hold up to a wash and hides them under her bed before picking up her boots and leaving her room, heading for the entrance hall of the castle as she tries her best not to yawn.

She'd heard the sound of a river or brook on her way to the castle, and it only seems natural that there must be running water of some kind nearby, so she hunts around a bit in the forest — making certain to stay well clear of the Hold in the ground that Alucard had mentioned the night before — until she finds a shallow, quiet section that's burbling slowly and doesn't seem to have any dangerous undercurrents. Then, lacking any means of changing, she simply sinks a few large stones into the water and sits down onto them, letting the water wash over her clothes and body alike.

It's not exactly a morning swim, but it does wake her up, and it feels good to get some of the road dirt off of her clothes and out of her hair. Once back on the shore, she squeezes the drips out of her skirt and sleeves as best she can and then sets off, counting on the morning breeze and warming sunlight to dry her the rest of the way.

Next, she walks along the bank of the river, just learning the terrain of the woods around the castle; eventually, she starts to spot the places where Alucard must come to harvest wild vegetables — here and there, she can see plants that have had fruits picked from between their leaves, ostensibly by a five-fingered hand. A little further down, she comes across a patch of blackberry bushes and stops to fill her pockets; it's hardly the best way to carry back a bunch of fruit, but so long as she's careful, it ought to be all right.

Once she's dry enough to be only a little damp but not dripping, she retraces her steps back to the castle and walks about touching locked doors until she manages to find the kitchen. The beauty and size of it astonishes her, though she doesn't quite know why; it's far more intricate than she might've expected, particularly for what seems to be a single lord living alone with no serving help.

There are no dishes in the sink, not even her own little bowl from the night before; somehow, that amuses her. Regardless, she roots around until she finds a pan and a bag of oats, and a half-full pail of water that still tastes sweet rather than brackish from stagnancy.

She's no great hand in a kitchen, but she does manage to get the oats boiling, and stirs them until they start to resemble a porridge. From there, it's a quick enough matter to find a bowl and spoon — perhaps the very same ones she'd used the night before — and fill it with the hot oats before adding the blackberries and giving it a good, solid stir.

It's not bad for a breakfast, she supposes, and leaves the remnants on the kitchen counter, taking the bowl and setting back out into the castle proper to see if she can manage to find Alucard.]

[Of all the rooms Alucard seems to leave unlocked, it is the library. Granted, he's long since moved items around enough that there aren't any dangerous enchanted items present. Nothing aside from his own sword, of course.

By the unlit and cold fireplace, Alucard sits, fingers combed together with his eyes closed. He isn't sleeping, but he certainly is dwelling; the past, as always, will haunt him, and he wonders if this is how Dracula ended up in the end. Sitting in his chair, dwelling, waiting to die.

Maybe he should have just slept after all.

He pauses, smelling the porridge and fresh berries. There'd honestly been a part of him that expected that Rosella would just run off in the night or in the morning, yet she's keeping to her word. Undoubtedly to prove herself.

Well. They'll see.

Alucard lifts his chin, glancing over his shoulder toward the door.]

I see you've kept yourself busy.

Oh! There you are.

[She'd almost been ready to shut the door and walk away again, having not spotted him around the back of the turned-away chair. At the sound of his voice, she stops in her retreat, pressing it open and stepping carefully into the room to approach him.

It may well be the grandest library she's ever seen — more well-stocked than the one in the old manor house in Tamir, taller and more somber than the more familiar one in Castle Daventry. If there are books of magic in here, she muses silently, she'll never find them in three days. More likely than not, she wouldn't be able to uncover them in three years. But oh, what sorts of stories must be contained within the many tomes — surely a vampire would have a marvelous library, or at least she would expect so based on the stories she's heard.

Yet Alucard doesn't seem to be reading at all. He's just sitting, gazing at an unlit fireplace with his back to the door. As she draws closer, she can see that he hasn't changed from the night before; he's still wearing the cloak with the tatters at the hems, and his hair is still long and unbrushed.

He's not taking care of himself, she thinks fleetingly, and almost in response to that notion, she offers him the bowl of porridge.]

And here we have your breakfast. The berries are fresh and ripe, so it ought to taste sweet.

That, I've no doubt.

[The bowl is taken, though he does pause to give her a curious glance.]

And have you had your own breakfast yet? I've no interest in having you starve, in case last night was any clear indication.

There's more in the kitchen. I thought I'd work up a proper appetite first.

[She glances around a bit, frowning again at the unlit fireplace, then crosses over to stand near it and presses her hand against the wall just above the mantel, and a little to the side.

Unsurprisingly, nothing happens, so she surreptitiously tries again, with equally unremarkable results.]

...Er. Well — did you sit up in here all night?

[She says, turning around to face him briskly, with her hands tucked a little bashfully behind her back.]

[The way she touches the area around the fireplace makes him huff in amusement, idly swirling his spoon in the bowl.]

Not all night. I spent time rearranging some items of interest and ensuring locked doors for both of our sakes.

Looking for hidden doors?

[At least he doesn't sound irritated. He takes a bite, then pauses to relish the sweetness. It's pleasant, actually.]

[Caught out, her cheeks flush pink, and she can't help but glance away in mild embarrassment.]

I was trying to light the fireplace.

[Not that looking for hidden doors is that bad of an idea — surely there must be some around in a castle of this size, there always are in castles — but as it happens, her purpose was considerably more mundane.]

Your torches in the jars, in the entrance — they lit when you touched the wall. I thought it might...I thought perhaps your walls just did that.

[Well. Now it sounds sort of stupid when she says it aloud.]

[That explanation gives him pause, but... truthfully, he finds it reasonable. She's observant, but perhaps not enough to know what electricity is. Not her fault.]

A fair assumption, I suppose. I've never really explained how the lights work. But I'm afraid for fireplaces, I don't have anything that complicated arranged.

[He has more of the porridge. It's actually quite nice. Light.]

Oh, I'm sure there's a wonderfully complicated explanation for it, that mostly boils down to "they're enchanted and you worked magic on them."

[Although...the way that he says it is odd. As though there is more to it than that. And she really can't help her curiosity, even though she knows full well there are plenty of other, better things she might be doing with her time.]

...Is there more to it than that?

[She says, as she digs in her pockets for a bit of flint and kneels down to start arranging the tinder and kindling.]

Not magic. Science. The glass domes are called bulbs, and with a kind of metal, they can create light through electricity.

[He tops off his bowl, mindful to himself of knowing he'll take it to the kitchen to deal with.]

That's not to say that they couldn't be magic, if I wished it.

Science...

[She tests the word on her tongue like she's tasting it, almost, and not sure if it'll come away with a foul flavor or a sweet one. There's something about what he's describing that triggers a buried memory, however — something she recalls seeing from far away, through the curving barrier of a tall glass jar. She remembers standing on the ramparts of their shrunken castle and looking out over the vast expanse of Mordack's laboratory, and how far off in the distance, great globes affixed to some sort of awful contraption had sparked with lightning and illuminated the room with an eerie blue glow.

He must be talking about something like that, she decides at length, pondering even as her hands work efficiently to pile the wood and strike the tinder to coax a flame to take hold. Alexander called lightning when he slew the dragon; she remembers vividly how close the bolts got to her where she'd been tied up just scant feet from the awful beast. So Alucard must have called lightning somehow — not with magic, but with science — and captured it in his metal, and sealed the metal in the glass. Now, when he bids it, the lightning flashes, and holds its flash longer than any natural bolt ever should, and he lights a room with it.

It's so terribly complex that, as she sits back onto her heels and regards the little fire as it starts to burn, simple logic causes a thought to surface, and she glances back at him.]

To go to all that work just for light, your bulbs must be better somehow than a torch. Or you wouldn't have bothered.

[And now it's a riddle. How is a lightning bulb better than an easy, sensible flame?]

...They don't burn out. Is that it? You don't — they don't run out of oil, like a torch would. The bulbs don't go out?

[When was the last time that fireplace held any warmth? Who is to say. He's hardly touched anything of interest, stopped creating art ages ago. Stopped doing much of anything except surviving and keeping to himself. Alucard watches the flames flicker to life, but his attention is quickly turned to Rosella herself as she works out the most important thing: why. Why would the bulbs be more efficient than candles or a torch?

And her conclusion is sound. Alucard's eyes, tired as they are, almost glimmer in satisfaction.]

Precisely, or at least they certainly don't burn out as easily. From time to time, they need replacing, but you can easily choose when to light them or turn them off. It is a tedious thing to tend to hundreds of candles for a castle.

[Clever Rosella.]

What are some other things you would use a fire for besides light and basic warmth?

[And now the riddle has turned into a game, which only fuels her desire to understand further. Had he been merely teaching a lesson out of a book, she might've been passingly interested in his lightning jars, or she might not have. But she's competitive, and always has been, and now that her ability to puzzle it out has been turned into a test, she wants to suss it out and reach the epiphany all the more for it.]

Well, to heat specific things, certainly. You'd need a fire to cook with, or to make a bath a bit more pleasant.

[How many peasants of no particular account can boast a familiarity with a heated bath? The incongruity doesn't even occur to her, so preoccupied is she with pondering.]

Oh — or to keep animals away in the wild. A fire for protection.

[Another curious thing to note, her remark on making a heated bath. Not often a peasant could care about that in particular, but he keeps his amusement to himself. Rosella has many secrets yet to share, he figures.]

Perhaps I should show you the wonders of my oven, then. To cook with. Or perhaps a running water system with heated water?

I'm certain if one thought to, they could use fire to keep animals away. But it's never really been a concern of a vampire's.

But how would...

[Her brow furrows as she falls deep in thought, trying to consider the implications of the concepts he's telling her and transfer them into situations she's already familiar with.

When it hits her, her whole expression brightens, like the sun emerging from behind fluffy summertime clouds.]

Of course, so that's what the metal is for! It must...make the metal hot, somehow, and that's how it acts like a fire, giving off heat. So if you had a metal bath, and you sent your electricity through it, it would get hot and heat the water, wouldn't it?

[no rosella it would doom you to another gruesome sierra death but you're doing great, honey, keep doing your best]

Ah, well. Not... quite, for reasons I can explain, but you're on the right track. More than most, in any case.

[It's very hard to not laugh at the prospect, but he gives her an amused glint in his eyes.]

Imagine that you had a well inside of the castle. Filled with water, with a system that allows it to reach every necessary room. Basins so you can have water when you wish, for your tubs for a bath. Now, with electricity, you warm up that well. There's a mechanism in it that triggers to warm it up.

[One can almost see the wheels turning, turning, turning in her pretty head, metaphorically speaking. But the moment when a revelation occurs to her can be literally seen, visible in the widening of her eyes and the way she sits up a little straighter.]

It's an aqueduct. You've hidden a Roman aqueduct in your walls, only it heats the water as it runs. Well — that's marvelous, of course you couldn't keep a fire burning inside a wall, but you're using your metal and electricity, so it isn't a problem...

[She blinks rapidly, startled.]

But — that's brilliant. It's ingenious. And that's how it is in this castle, you've done that? Will you show me?

[The utter delight on her face makes it strangely satisfying as she pieces it all together. Finally, Alucard smiles, enchanted in the moment.]

I would not claim the idea as my own. That belongs to another.

But yes. I would show you, if you so desired. After your chores, perhaps?

Something to look forward to?

[She smiles a little; her excitement gradually tapering back into a softer warmth. The while I toil away doing servant's chores at the end of that sentence is left off, but it's hard not to consider the implication of it.

Still, she dusts the soot on her palms off onto the skirt of her otherwise terrible dress, makes a face at it, and stands up from the fireplace.]

Speaking of the chores, I'd meant to ask you. If you've anything to be laundered, will you set it out somewhere? Then I don't need to worry about any locked doors, or going somewhere I oughtn't. I can come back for it when I've finished with the entrance.

[She purses her lips, then adds more tentatively: ]

That cloak of yours looks like it could do with a wash.

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