[Her curtsey is well practiced, pretty and elegant. Odd for a peasant girl, but she is unique in many ways thus far anyway.
Alucard allows himself to smile faintly, sweeping his cape as he gives her his own bow.]
As you say.
[Standing back up, and he steps away from her and the study altogether. It's... admittedly been awhile since he'd bothered to do much in the way of his dressing up. So long that he reckons much of his own clothing have seen better days without dust.
Still, there is enough for him; he almost feels like a man again, putting on a proper shirt and coat at last instead of the lurching, hissing form he'd been. He hasn't been successful yet in properly brushing out his hair, too long since he'd ignored it, but it's something to fuss with for another day. For Rosella, he does return with a dress for her. Though she wears something red and ragged, blue would match her eyes, wouldn't it?
So he goes to the kitchen, dress draped in his arms as if it were a princess itself.]
[By the time Alucard makes his reappearance, the breakfast dishes have been cleaned up and replaced, all save for the one little bowl currently in front of her as she sits near the foot end of the table — consciously far from the master's place — and tucks in to her own portion. He's emphasized more than once how he doesn't want her fainting and making a mess of things all about the castle, so she'd gone out of her way to try to arrange it so he'd at least see her eating and heeding his directions when he did eventually come in.
But her spoon stills in her hand, momentarily forgotten, when he does make his entrance. How different he looks when he dresses as a gentleman ought; though certainly not new, the colors of his coat are still crisp, the folds and lapels still smart. Strange too, how the shirt he's chosen does more to draw attention to the broad planes of his chest than it had when he hadn't been wearing one to begin with.
He's really quite handsome, she thinks fleetingly, and must be about her age — or at least, her age is about where his vampirism must've frozen him in time. Odd how she hadn't really noticed his youth before, when he'd seemed so dismal and wild.]
My word, you do look like the lord of the castle. That suits you very well!
[Perhaps a ribbon for his hair, she thinks idly. A black one, tied at the nape of his neck, after a proper brushing. A shame that she couldn't possibly offer that up as one of her servant's duties. Even if it weren't horrendously improper, she doubts he'd let her touch him at all, much less something so close and for so long.
So consumed is she with her musing on his appearance, it's almost an afterthought when she finally notices the dress he's brought for her. She's never much thought of black as a color that suits her very well, preferring white and blue as an alternative, but the notion of color doesn't even cross her mind; she's far too preoccupied with how hard it hits her, the simple foolish courtesy of being able to get out of her awful rags and dress properly again.
She doesn't cry, but it does bring a lump of emotion to her throat, and she sets the spoon back in her blackberry porridge before she can accidentally fumble and drop it. A dress, a beautiful proper dress, so that she can feel a little more like a princess again herself.]
[She's eating. That's the first thing he notes, and he's glad for it. No matter how this may turn out, Alucard refuses to be a cruel man and keep her from food. He will probably have to show her how the oven and stove both work, but that's fine.
Secondly, her reaction to the dress is understandable. A peasant girl granted a gift of a fine dress; something like that has probably never happened to Rosella before, so he doesn't even question it. The gratitude is clear enough in the shine of her eyes, and he offers the dress to her.]
It is yours. I, personally, would not be able to make much use of it, after all.
[It's such a startling bit of humor from Alucard that she laughs almost before she realizes she's done it, completely forgetting to politely cover her mirth behind a graceful hand the way she'd always been taught to. It's a relief, though, because the teasing irony is enough to jar her out of her bittersweet preoccupation, and she sets down her spoon and comes around to take the dress in a hurry, holding it to her chest and feeling the richness of the fabric beneath her fingers as she admires it.
This is how the old fisherman felt, she realizes unexpectedly, when she'd brought him the dwarves' diamonds. Something so precious, that despite its inherent finery has no value at all to one person, yet means the world to another.
She wonders if there's something like that for Alucard, too. Something she has to give so freely that she hardly need spare a thought about it, but that would overwhelm him with its kindness as much as this.
Oh, how she wonders.]
It's beautiful...and my favorite color is blue, so I'm doubly charmed.
[She runs her fingers over the skirt, fingering the workmanship.]
But I admit, I'm glad that I'm the one making use of it, of the two of us. You look so very fine in your shirt and coat, I'd be sorry to see you in anything different — even if it were a dress as lovely as this.
I would not have known. I simply thought it might-- suit you.
[He almost says match your eyes or bring out your hair, but he doesn't want to sound too personable so he keeps it to himself. For a moment, he looks a bit embarrassed before he clears his throat.]
I thank you for your kind words. If you would like, so you feel renewed, I can show you how to work the bath. It's quite simple, I assure you.
[For a second, her impulse is to demur, just out of sheer reflex. A gentle refusal because it's the sort of thing that's expected, or because the carefully-drawn lines of their arrangement are starting to blur, or because the longer she spends around Alucard the more she finds herself growing caught up in his push and pull of generous humor and reluctant melancholy. Being around him feels...out of control, somehow, not in a sense of having it stripped away from her but in a way that feels like riding a horse across a countryside with no direction and no aim.
Distance from him would clear her head of it, and so she almost says no, only so that he'll let her play at doing chores and steal some time to sort through the confusion that proximity to him seems to bring.
Only then it occurs to her that his offer might not necessarily be purely for the sake of being a generous host. Maybe...maybe he's finding excuses to prolong the exchange, so that she won't go off on her own just yet.
Maybe he wants to see her in the dress.
It's hardly the time for such nonsense, what with her present state of being kidnapped and stranded and left with no way home, and to say nothing of likely being hunted down by a cruel and powerful wizard besides. But none of that stops the thought from crossing her mind, anyway.]
Well...if it's simple, and you think I can learn it — then yes. Please, I'd like to know.
[It's a foolish notion. He should be letting her work as she'd agreed, but does want to be sure that it fits and to her expectations. And Rosella certainly is pretty, she would look so--
This is stupid. He knows better. He knows better. He is at best a tool for someone else. A victim otherwise.]
If you manage to find a way to break it or not make it work, I would be incredibly impressed.
[With a motion for her to follow him, he does go up the stairs. More curiously, he goes to a room that is across the hall from where Rosella stayed the night before, leading into an extravagant bathroom, large and would be quite a bit more inviting if it'd been properly dusted. There are indeed cobwebs in the corners, but it does not tarnish the polish hidden under, gold accents and marble and all.
He indicates the two knobs.]
The right is cold water, the left hot. You can turn both and adjust until you determine the temperature you prefer.
[...Well, bother it all, to think that the magical aqueduct bath was just across the hall from her given room this whole time. If only she'd been a little more adventurous in looking around this morning, perhaps she would've found it herself, rather than cleaning up with a cold swim in the brook — but no, he'd made it quite clear that she wasn't to go poking around behind doors where she didn't belong, hadn't he? So better safe than sorry, all around.
She follows him in, trying not to stare wide-eyed at the lovely grandeur — such luxury, all the marble and gold hidden away in what's otherwise such a dreary old castle to all appearances — and when he brings her over to the bath, her eyes light up at once.]
So this is it. And the rest of it is hidden behind the walls? It's terribly clever, and rather tidy, too.
[Experimentally, she touches the left knob with the tips of her fingers, like she's expecting to find it hot to the touch. A look of mild surprise crosses her face when she finds it room temperature, and that's when she gets brave and deftly turns the hot water on to run.
Perhaps not surprisingly, she's not expecting the sound of water beginning to rush through the metal pipes, and jumps a little at the noise, even as a spout of water begins to pour into the tub.]
[So then, to make the water run out again when she's done, she must simply need to pull out the plug, and it'll all run away again — to where, she doesn't know. Presumably into just another part of the whole apparatus, which just makes it all the more terribly clever.
Thoughtfully, she finds a safe place to set her lovely dress aside for safekeeping, where it won't pick up too much dust while it rests, and then reaches over to examine the temperature of the water as he'd suggested. It's surprisingly hot — moreso than she'd been imagining — but the principle of the thing comes quickly to her, and so without hesitation she reaches for the cold knob and twists it until she finds a temperature she likes better.
It'll take at least a minute or two for the tub to fill, she gauges as she watches the water pour in, and so while it does, she turns her attention back to Alucard, and then to their surroundings, before drifting back to him again.]
You don't use this room, either. It's as dusty as my bedroom was.
[...]
But someone must've made use of it once, surely...?
[It's not exactly a question that Rosella asks in so much as it is an opening for conversation. Yet, he doesn't say anything, his eyes lowering for a moment before he goes to the wardrobe, opening it to obtain a towel.]
The castle was home to more than one man, at one time. That was awhile ago.
[He leaves the towel on a chair after wiping some dust off with his hand first.]
[A woman lived here once, Rosella interprets without much difficulty, and one that Alucard doesn't care to speak of. A woman who must've been about her age, or at least her height, who left her dresses behind. One who must have been either very regal or very cherished, to have warranted such finery and consideration.
She wonders who it was. It's a pity she knows better than to ask.]
It's a shame it's fallen into such neglect. So much of it is so beautiful.
[Is she talking about the castle, or about the man who lives within it? Perhaps the two are linked, their futures one and the same.]
I'll clean in here, too. When I'm through with the bath.
I once desired to make something of it. But it was a cruel lesson to learn otherwise.
[A slow breath escapes him as he thinks briefly to the past. How bitter he's become. Alucard was not ever truly naive of the world, but he'd let his hopes raise him too much too many times.
He cannot afford to again.
He takes a step back.]
Whichever order you prefer to have it. I'll be gone momentarily from the castle, but I will not be long or far.
[He's going to test her, perhaps. Go on a sudden journey and see whether she behaves herself in the interim. And if he's truly to be gone, it would be the perfect opportunity to snoop around and see if she can't unearth some of the magic she's certain he has hidden away in the castle, but —
But it's only the first day. She has two more, yet, to win him over. And if she were to slip and get caught, that would be the end of it, forever.
No. Better not to press her luck, not yet. Better to wait and see, a little longer.]
Yes, of course. I understand. And...I'll look forward to your return.
[There's plenty to keep her busy in the interim, anyway. The luxury of a hot bath, the pleasure of dressing up in a proper gown. And then, of course, doing what she can to make something out of the disrepair that the entrance has fallen into — dozens upon dozens of bulbs to dust, and floor to sweep, and dirt to scrub away.]
If you hear a knock on the door, do not answer. I don't knock on my own house.
[Turning away, Alucard takes his leave of the room, granting Rosella her privacy, however she chooses to do it. He isn't sure what to expect out of her, truthfully; he wants to know what kind of person she really is, and those moments in which he feels like she's genuine, that glittering curiosity in her eyes... it is dangerous. Like a brightly colored plants, beautiful but clearly poisonous.
He leaves the front door closed, instead leaving through a window as he transforms into mist. Outside, he reforms into a wolf, taking off into the woods.
[The foreboding warning chills her to the bone. It's strange how easy it is to forget, within the high stone walls of Alucard's castle, that somewhere out there still lurks a wizard of nigh-unfathomable power, for whom walls and distance mean next to nothing. Shadrack had snatched her from Daventry and brought her to his wretched wizard's keep with nearly no trouble at all. Who's to say that he couldn't just as well find her now?
I don't knock on my own house.
The words linger in her mind as she bathes, sinking down deep into the water as if to try to warm some of the ice out of her soul, but to no avail. They stay with her as she dresses and fixes her hair, discarding the old rags she'd been wearing in a heap on the floor of her borrowed bedroom before setting off to deal with the rest of her day's chores. They leave apprehension climbing up her spine as she finds a little table to stand on and uses it to clean bulb after bulb, holding her breath as often as she takes it in or lets it out, waiting for a booming knock on the great tall doors that — never comes.
It occurs to her, as she's sweeping the floor, that Alucard never said where he was going, and that "not long" is a relative term. The day wanes, and the sky turns from blue to shades of orange and yellow, and still she is all alone.
Where could Alucard have gone?
Twilight descends, and it will be properly nightfall soon, and still nothing has come of it. The entrance looks better than it has perhaps in years, and the cobwebs are all cleaned out of the pretty bathroom, and the laundry is hanging to dry, and still — still —
Something must be wrong, she decides, and hurries up to her room to snatch her meager possessions up from under the bed, bundling them all in the rags of her old dress and setting out to find a way out of the castle without opening the front doors. It takes a bit, but she manages to find a window on the first floor that she can get open without great difficulty, and wriggles out of it before closing it nearly to shut behind her.
The scarab tucked away in her bodice thrums. The night creatures will be out soon, when darkness falls.
But Alucard said he wasn't going far, and that means he must have gone into the woods. And so it's into the woods that Rosella goes, too, past the pinioned bones and the spooky trees, looking for bootprints or any sign of where the lord of the castle may have disappeared to.]
[It hadn't occurred to him to give a specified amount of time of how long he would be. He assumed that... well, that Rosella would work on the castle for rooms that she could reach. Idly, Alucard wonders if he should make it easier for her and label the doors she can enter. That would be more convenient, probably.
No, he decides bitterly. It's only a few more days. A few more days for her to try to convince him, because he's nothing but a tool anyway.
Nobody ever chooses Adrian.
Eventually, dusk comes. Enough chasing around critters in the woods and eventually he catches a fine stag by the throat, canines ripping through flesh easily. Animal blood does little to help him, but it staves off the bloodlust at least. After licking his jaws, he starts to drag off the deer in the direction of the castle.
He pauses, ears flicking. There's more than just animals in the woods. There are beasts, too.
Sniffing the air confirms it. But it also confirms there's someone else.
Huffing through his nose, he makes his way toward the scent of Rosella, hoping to cut off whatever creatures lurk in the night.]
[It's growing colder out, as night falls; it makes her wish she'd looked around for a cloak of some sort, but it's far too late for that now. She should've brought a candle, too, only so much of the light in the castle comes from bulbs that she probably couldn't have even tracked one down if she'd tried.
Alucard said he wasn't going far. "Far" might be as relative a term as "not long", but she has to believe he wouldn't have gone too deep into the woods. And at least none of the trees have reached for her yet, even though a few long shadows have made her jump more than once, as she moved beneath the branches.
Overhead, and in the distance, she can hear the familiar screeching of the night creatures; tucked away in her bodice, her scarab warms and thrums the same way it did back in Tamir. The things in the sky will give her a wide berth, or so she hopes. The sound of them makes the night spooky, but not dangerous.
The sound of heavy footsteps crunching in the undergrowth, on the other hand, makes her blood run cold.
It's hard to make out something blue among the gray-black shadows, so it isn't the color of the monster that she picks out first; it's the shape. It's one she's altogether too familiar with — part ram, part praying mantis, with red eyes and dripping fangs. It's close; she's downwind of it, which is a small blessing, but for the part where it means she can smell its horrid, decaying stench.
It's Shadrack's henchman, his blue meanie — and she knows all too well that it's not something her scarab will repel.
She knows better than to run; she'll never escape it on foot. She tries to bolt for the nearest tree with low-hanging branches instead, hoping to scramble up its trunk and seek momentary refuge beneath its canopy. But the meanie is astonishingly fast, and she's not quite out of reach by the time it catches up with her, its grasping claws circling around her ankle and hauling her bodily back down to the ground.
Her shriek pierces the night air; half her possessions tumble away beneath the tree as the fall turns her head over foot and sends her crashing to the dirt. In another second, it's got her around the waist, hefting her over its knobby shoulder and beginning a new march through the wilderness, in the opposite direction from whence Rosella came.
She knows where it's taking her. She knows who sent it. She knows that to go back will mean a fate worse than death.
But struggle as she might, she can't get herself free, and so all that remains is to scream her terror into the night, fruitless and brokenhearted as the fright soon turns to desperate sobs.]
[The shriek of her voice pierces the air, and makes it all the easier for him to follow. She is in danger.
Dropping the deer's body, Alucard makes his way through the woods, faster than any creature has the right to be. He didn't bring his sword, but he should be enough for any night creature out here.
The beast that he sees carrying away Rosella is not one he knows. It doesn't even seem quite right, like it certainly does not belong here. More importantly, it seems set on purely capturing Rosella, not distinctly harming her.
Not that it changes his decision.
Snarling, he leaps out from the brush, pouncing onto the beast's back and biting furiously with his fangs, determined to attack until he can free Rosella.]
[It all happens so fast. One second she's being hauled away, powerless to escape or resist; the next, there's the unmistakable snarl of a wolf thundering in the air, and the whole world quaking again as its lunge sends it squarely into the blue meanie's back. Faithful a henchman though it is, it's still an independent creature in its own right; once attacked, its mission goes by the wayside in favor of striking back at whatever creature dared try to inhibit its progress.
Two hard falls in nearly as many minutes leave Rosella stunned and disoriented; she's not altogether sure what combination of kicking and struggling landed her on the ground again, but it does leave her too dizzy to try to make any further escape. All she can do is watch, head spinning, as the meanie's assailant comes into view for the first time.
There are wolves in Daventry, great ones that roam the countryside and would carry off a little girl unmindful of where she chose to play. This wolf dwarfs any other she's ever seen in her life, massive and fanged, and surely capable of tearing her to pieces with a single bite.
All of a sudden, she isn't altogether sure which of the two she hopes will win.
Meanwhile, the blue creature is doing its best to hold its own against the attacking wolf; what it lacks in size and power, it makes up for in poison, snapping its venomous jaws at the wolf's muzzle whenever it tries to get close, and lunging itself to try to rake its claws deep enough into the wolf's fur to strike skin and tear.]
[It's Alucard's mistake. He doesn't think much of what this beast can do to him, even though he knows it's foreign. He's never seen anything like it in all of his years growing up as heir to Dracula, or thumbing through books of the Belmont hold. Underestimating a foe is foolish, especially when he can't remember the last time he's properly fed.
The claws tear through his skin, ripping wounds into him. He snarls, but the thing's poisonous fangs finally bite into his shoulder. Letting out a sharp yelp, Alucard shoves himself off of the blue beast, stumbling onto his paws.
Then he melts away, reforming back to his body as a man.]
Enough. I think you've outlived your welcome.
[Without waiting another precious second, he grabs onto the creature's leg, swinging it around until he throws it off onto the sky. A few seconds later, there's a thud in the distance.
He huffs, his wounds trying to heal, struggling and unable to. There'd been other times where this happened. Terrifying moments. Here, he thinks... he feels a bit braver, knowing he's succeeded in something.]
[The wolf — was him? He'd changed his shape, no wonder she couldn't find him in the woods, but then...he must've heard the commotion, and —
He...saved her?
Her heart is pounding, her lungs devoid of air. She hurts all over; surely she'll have a whole ugly complement of bruises tomorrow morning, from all that she's been grabbed and thrown around tonight. But the wounded cry that had escaped the wolf's muzzle when it'd been bitten is still ringing in her ears, and before she's even really thought of it, she's stumbled to her feet and run to him.
In a perfect world — the sort that princesses are supposed to live in, the ones that go as they're meant to — she'd be free to fall into his arms and cry, shaken from the ordeal but returned to the safety of her rescuer's arms. But this isn't a storybook world, and she has never been a proper princess, and so when she reaches him her hands immediately go to his shoulder, pulling the fabric of his coat away with reckless abandon to try to get a look at the wound.]
I — I think I hit my head.
[But that's not important right now. Shadrack's monsters are all bred to kill, and she's certain that those fangs sunk deep into Alucard's flesh, wolf or not.]
It's enchanted. Its fangs — there's venom, it's magic, that's why. You're not immune to magic, are you?
[Of course he isn't. Would he be so affected right now if he were? But there's no time to worry about that. It's fast-acting poison; a human would likely already be halfway to dead by now. Alucard's body must be working overtime to hold the toxins off, but there's no possible way of knowing how long he'll be able to maintain it.
And in that moment, it's not about finding a way home, or about the castle, or their bargain. It's not about Alucard being perhaps her only chance to see her family again. Her own troubles and perils are the very last thing on her mind — so much so that they're not even present to begin with.
He's hurt.
He's hurt and she can't just stand still and do nothing.]
Lie down. Hurry. Conserve your strength, every bit that you can. I think — I think I can help.
[Magic. A magically made beast, then? Not impossible, of course, but his mind is sluggishly trying to collect itself. He blinks for a moment, then he seems to stiffen a moment when she asks him to lie down.
Is this the moment where she stakes him? Because he's at his most vulnerable? There's fear in his eyes for a moment, and he doesn't think he could fight her off if he had to right now. No, no that's all irrational -- she doesn't have a weapon, she could just leave him to suffer if that was it, but the gnawing agony of the past few years aches at him.
Alucard closes his eyes, slowly sinking down to lie on the forest floor.]
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Alucard allows himself to smile faintly, sweeping his cape as he gives her his own bow.]
As you say.
[Standing back up, and he steps away from her and the study altogether. It's... admittedly been awhile since he'd bothered to do much in the way of his dressing up. So long that he reckons much of his own clothing have seen better days without dust.
Still, there is enough for him; he almost feels like a man again, putting on a proper shirt and coat at last instead of the lurching, hissing form he'd been. He hasn't been successful yet in properly brushing out his hair, too long since he'd ignored it, but it's something to fuss with for another day. For Rosella, he does return with a dress for her. Though she wears something red and ragged, blue would match her eyes, wouldn't it?
So he goes to the kitchen, dress draped in his arms as if it were a princess itself.]
If this is not too much for you.
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But her spoon stills in her hand, momentarily forgotten, when he does make his entrance. How different he looks when he dresses as a gentleman ought; though certainly not new, the colors of his coat are still crisp, the folds and lapels still smart. Strange too, how the shirt he's chosen does more to draw attention to the broad planes of his chest than it had when he hadn't been wearing one to begin with.
He's really quite handsome, she thinks fleetingly, and must be about her age — or at least, her age is about where his vampirism must've frozen him in time. Odd how she hadn't really noticed his youth before, when he'd seemed so dismal and wild.]
My word, you do look like the lord of the castle. That suits you very well!
[Perhaps a ribbon for his hair, she thinks idly. A black one, tied at the nape of his neck, after a proper brushing. A shame that she couldn't possibly offer that up as one of her servant's duties. Even if it weren't horrendously improper, she doubts he'd let her touch him at all, much less something so close and for so long.
So consumed is she with her musing on his appearance, it's almost an afterthought when she finally notices the dress he's brought for her. She's never much thought of black as a color that suits her very well, preferring white and blue as an alternative, but the notion of color doesn't even cross her mind; she's far too preoccupied with how hard it hits her, the simple foolish courtesy of being able to get out of her awful rags and dress properly again.
She doesn't cry, but it does bring a lump of emotion to her throat, and she sets the spoon back in her blackberry porridge before she can accidentally fumble and drop it. A dress, a beautiful proper dress, so that she can feel a little more like a princess again herself.]
Oh...
[She swallows hard, her smile wobbling.]
Oh, it's lovely. Please, yes, let me have it.
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Secondly, her reaction to the dress is understandable. A peasant girl granted a gift of a fine dress; something like that has probably never happened to Rosella before, so he doesn't even question it. The gratitude is clear enough in the shine of her eyes, and he offers the dress to her.]
It is yours. I, personally, would not be able to make much use of it, after all.
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This is how the old fisherman felt, she realizes unexpectedly, when she'd brought him the dwarves' diamonds. Something so precious, that despite its inherent finery has no value at all to one person, yet means the world to another.
She wonders if there's something like that for Alucard, too. Something she has to give so freely that she hardly need spare a thought about it, but that would overwhelm him with its kindness as much as this.
Oh, how she wonders.]
It's beautiful...and my favorite color is blue, so I'm doubly charmed.
[She runs her fingers over the skirt, fingering the workmanship.]
But I admit, I'm glad that I'm the one making use of it, of the two of us. You look so very fine in your shirt and coat, I'd be sorry to see you in anything different — even if it were a dress as lovely as this.
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[He almost says match your eyes or bring out your hair, but he doesn't want to sound too personable so he keeps it to himself. For a moment, he looks a bit embarrassed before he clears his throat.]
I thank you for your kind words. If you would like, so you feel renewed, I can show you how to work the bath. It's quite simple, I assure you.
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Distance from him would clear her head of it, and so she almost says no, only so that he'll let her play at doing chores and steal some time to sort through the confusion that proximity to him seems to bring.
Only then it occurs to her that his offer might not necessarily be purely for the sake of being a generous host. Maybe...maybe he's finding excuses to prolong the exchange, so that she won't go off on her own just yet.
Maybe he wants to see her in the dress.
It's hardly the time for such nonsense, what with her present state of being kidnapped and stranded and left with no way home, and to say nothing of likely being hunted down by a cruel and powerful wizard besides. But none of that stops the thought from crossing her mind, anyway.]
Well...if it's simple, and you think I can learn it — then yes. Please, I'd like to know.
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This is stupid. He knows better. He knows better. He is at best a tool for someone else. A victim otherwise.]
If you manage to find a way to break it or not make it work, I would be incredibly impressed.
[With a motion for her to follow him, he does go up the stairs. More curiously, he goes to a room that is across the hall from where Rosella stayed the night before, leading into an extravagant bathroom, large and would be quite a bit more inviting if it'd been properly dusted. There are indeed cobwebs in the corners, but it does not tarnish the polish hidden under, gold accents and marble and all.
He indicates the two knobs.]
The right is cold water, the left hot. You can turn both and adjust until you determine the temperature you prefer.
Go on. Try it.
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She follows him in, trying not to stare wide-eyed at the lovely grandeur — such luxury, all the marble and gold hidden away in what's otherwise such a dreary old castle to all appearances — and when he brings her over to the bath, her eyes light up at once.]
So this is it. And the rest of it is hidden behind the walls? It's terribly clever, and rather tidy, too.
[Experimentally, she touches the left knob with the tips of her fingers, like she's expecting to find it hot to the touch. A look of mild surprise crosses her face when she finds it room temperature, and that's when she gets brave and deftly turns the hot water on to run.
Perhaps not surprisingly, she's not expecting the sound of water beginning to rush through the metal pipes, and jumps a little at the noise, even as a spout of water begins to pour into the tub.]
Oh, it's loud!
no subject
[Leaning over, he shows her the plug that's bound by a small chain. He pushes it in, and the water does not drain any longer.]
You may want to touch the water, just to be sure that it's as warm as you'd like. But welcome to the wonders of the plumbing.
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Thoughtfully, she finds a safe place to set her lovely dress aside for safekeeping, where it won't pick up too much dust while it rests, and then reaches over to examine the temperature of the water as he'd suggested. It's surprisingly hot — moreso than she'd been imagining — but the principle of the thing comes quickly to her, and so without hesitation she reaches for the cold knob and twists it until she finds a temperature she likes better.
It'll take at least a minute or two for the tub to fill, she gauges as she watches the water pour in, and so while it does, she turns her attention back to Alucard, and then to their surroundings, before drifting back to him again.]
You don't use this room, either. It's as dusty as my bedroom was.
[...]
But someone must've made use of it once, surely...?
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The castle was home to more than one man, at one time. That was awhile ago.
[He leaves the towel on a chair after wiping some dust off with his hand first.]
And now there is one.
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She wonders who it was. It's a pity she knows better than to ask.]
It's a shame it's fallen into such neglect. So much of it is so beautiful.
[Is she talking about the castle, or about the man who lives within it? Perhaps the two are linked, their futures one and the same.]
I'll clean in here, too. When I'm through with the bath.
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[A slow breath escapes him as he thinks briefly to the past. How bitter he's become. Alucard was not ever truly naive of the world, but he'd let his hopes raise him too much too many times.
He cannot afford to again.
He takes a step back.]
Whichever order you prefer to have it. I'll be gone momentarily from the castle, but I will not be long or far.
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[He's going to test her, perhaps. Go on a sudden journey and see whether she behaves herself in the interim. And if he's truly to be gone, it would be the perfect opportunity to snoop around and see if she can't unearth some of the magic she's certain he has hidden away in the castle, but —
But it's only the first day. She has two more, yet, to win him over. And if she were to slip and get caught, that would be the end of it, forever.
No. Better not to press her luck, not yet. Better to wait and see, a little longer.]
Yes, of course. I understand. And...I'll look forward to your return.
[There's plenty to keep her busy in the interim, anyway. The luxury of a hot bath, the pleasure of dressing up in a proper gown. And then, of course, doing what she can to make something out of the disrepair that the entrance has fallen into — dozens upon dozens of bulbs to dust, and floor to sweep, and dirt to scrub away.]
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If you hear a knock on the door, do not answer. I don't knock on my own house.
[Turning away, Alucard takes his leave of the room, granting Rosella her privacy, however she chooses to do it. He isn't sure what to expect out of her, truthfully; he wants to know what kind of person she really is, and those moments in which he feels like she's genuine, that glittering curiosity in her eyes... it is dangerous. Like a brightly colored plants, beautiful but clearly poisonous.
He leaves the front door closed, instead leaving through a window as he transforms into mist. Outside, he reforms into a wolf, taking off into the woods.
A good run and hunt might do him well.]
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I don't knock on my own house.
The words linger in her mind as she bathes, sinking down deep into the water as if to try to warm some of the ice out of her soul, but to no avail. They stay with her as she dresses and fixes her hair, discarding the old rags she'd been wearing in a heap on the floor of her borrowed bedroom before setting off to deal with the rest of her day's chores. They leave apprehension climbing up her spine as she finds a little table to stand on and uses it to clean bulb after bulb, holding her breath as often as she takes it in or lets it out, waiting for a booming knock on the great tall doors that — never comes.
It occurs to her, as she's sweeping the floor, that Alucard never said where he was going, and that "not long" is a relative term. The day wanes, and the sky turns from blue to shades of orange and yellow, and still she is all alone.
Where could Alucard have gone?
Twilight descends, and it will be properly nightfall soon, and still nothing has come of it. The entrance looks better than it has perhaps in years, and the cobwebs are all cleaned out of the pretty bathroom, and the laundry is hanging to dry, and still — still —
Something must be wrong, she decides, and hurries up to her room to snatch her meager possessions up from under the bed, bundling them all in the rags of her old dress and setting out to find a way out of the castle without opening the front doors. It takes a bit, but she manages to find a window on the first floor that she can get open without great difficulty, and wriggles out of it before closing it nearly to shut behind her.
The scarab tucked away in her bodice thrums. The night creatures will be out soon, when darkness falls.
But Alucard said he wasn't going far, and that means he must have gone into the woods. And so it's into the woods that Rosella goes, too, past the pinioned bones and the spooky trees, looking for bootprints or any sign of where the lord of the castle may have disappeared to.]
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No, he decides bitterly. It's only a few more days. A few more days for her to try to convince him, because he's nothing but a tool anyway.
Nobody ever chooses Adrian.
Eventually, dusk comes. Enough chasing around critters in the woods and eventually he catches a fine stag by the throat, canines ripping through flesh easily. Animal blood does little to help him, but it staves off the bloodlust at least. After licking his jaws, he starts to drag off the deer in the direction of the castle.
He pauses, ears flicking. There's more than just animals in the woods. There are beasts, too.
Sniffing the air confirms it. But it also confirms there's someone else.
Huffing through his nose, he makes his way toward the scent of Rosella, hoping to cut off whatever creatures lurk in the night.]
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Alucard said he wasn't going far. "Far" might be as relative a term as "not long", but she has to believe he wouldn't have gone too deep into the woods. And at least none of the trees have reached for her yet, even though a few long shadows have made her jump more than once, as she moved beneath the branches.
Overhead, and in the distance, she can hear the familiar screeching of the night creatures; tucked away in her bodice, her scarab warms and thrums the same way it did back in Tamir. The things in the sky will give her a wide berth, or so she hopes. The sound of them makes the night spooky, but not dangerous.
The sound of heavy footsteps crunching in the undergrowth, on the other hand, makes her blood run cold.
It's hard to make out something blue among the gray-black shadows, so it isn't the color of the monster that she picks out first; it's the shape. It's one she's altogether too familiar with — part ram, part praying mantis, with red eyes and dripping fangs. It's close; she's downwind of it, which is a small blessing, but for the part where it means she can smell its horrid, decaying stench.
It's Shadrack's henchman, his blue meanie — and she knows all too well that it's not something her scarab will repel.
She knows better than to run; she'll never escape it on foot. She tries to bolt for the nearest tree with low-hanging branches instead, hoping to scramble up its trunk and seek momentary refuge beneath its canopy. But the meanie is astonishingly fast, and she's not quite out of reach by the time it catches up with her, its grasping claws circling around her ankle and hauling her bodily back down to the ground.
Her shriek pierces the night air; half her possessions tumble away beneath the tree as the fall turns her head over foot and sends her crashing to the dirt. In another second, it's got her around the waist, hefting her over its knobby shoulder and beginning a new march through the wilderness, in the opposite direction from whence Rosella came.
She knows where it's taking her. She knows who sent it. She knows that to go back will mean a fate worse than death.
But struggle as she might, she can't get herself free, and so all that remains is to scream her terror into the night, fruitless and brokenhearted as the fright soon turns to desperate sobs.]
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Dropping the deer's body, Alucard makes his way through the woods, faster than any creature has the right to be. He didn't bring his sword, but he should be enough for any night creature out here.
The beast that he sees carrying away Rosella is not one he knows. It doesn't even seem quite right, like it certainly does not belong here. More importantly, it seems set on purely capturing Rosella, not distinctly harming her.
Not that it changes his decision.
Snarling, he leaps out from the brush, pouncing onto the beast's back and biting furiously with his fangs, determined to attack until he can free Rosella.]
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Two hard falls in nearly as many minutes leave Rosella stunned and disoriented; she's not altogether sure what combination of kicking and struggling landed her on the ground again, but it does leave her too dizzy to try to make any further escape. All she can do is watch, head spinning, as the meanie's assailant comes into view for the first time.
There are wolves in Daventry, great ones that roam the countryside and would carry off a little girl unmindful of where she chose to play. This wolf dwarfs any other she's ever seen in her life, massive and fanged, and surely capable of tearing her to pieces with a single bite.
All of a sudden, she isn't altogether sure which of the two she hopes will win.
Meanwhile, the blue creature is doing its best to hold its own against the attacking wolf; what it lacks in size and power, it makes up for in poison, snapping its venomous jaws at the wolf's muzzle whenever it tries to get close, and lunging itself to try to rake its claws deep enough into the wolf's fur to strike skin and tear.]
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The claws tear through his skin, ripping wounds into him. He snarls, but the thing's poisonous fangs finally bite into his shoulder. Letting out a sharp yelp, Alucard shoves himself off of the blue beast, stumbling onto his paws.
Then he melts away, reforming back to his body as a man.]
Enough. I think you've outlived your welcome.
[Without waiting another precious second, he grabs onto the creature's leg, swinging it around until he throws it off onto the sky. A few seconds later, there's a thud in the distance.
He huffs, his wounds trying to heal, struggling and unable to. There'd been other times where this happened. Terrifying moments. Here, he thinks... he feels a bit braver, knowing he's succeeded in something.]
Are you hurt?
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[The wolf — was him? He'd changed his shape, no wonder she couldn't find him in the woods, but then...he must've heard the commotion, and —
He...saved her?
Her heart is pounding, her lungs devoid of air. She hurts all over; surely she'll have a whole ugly complement of bruises tomorrow morning, from all that she's been grabbed and thrown around tonight. But the wounded cry that had escaped the wolf's muzzle when it'd been bitten is still ringing in her ears, and before she's even really thought of it, she's stumbled to her feet and run to him.
In a perfect world — the sort that princesses are supposed to live in, the ones that go as they're meant to — she'd be free to fall into his arms and cry, shaken from the ordeal but returned to the safety of her rescuer's arms. But this isn't a storybook world, and she has never been a proper princess, and so when she reaches him her hands immediately go to his shoulder, pulling the fabric of his coat away with reckless abandon to try to get a look at the wound.]
I — I think I hit my head.
[But that's not important right now. Shadrack's monsters are all bred to kill, and she's certain that those fangs sunk deep into Alucard's flesh, wolf or not.]
Did it bite you? Let me see. Hurry...
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It's not healing. I don't understand. No silver or... anything holy.
[He feels dizzy and strange. Numb and colder than usual.
Alucard should be angry she'd left the castle, but if she wanted to flee she could right now. He couldn't stop her.]
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[Of course he isn't. Would he be so affected right now if he were? But there's no time to worry about that. It's fast-acting poison; a human would likely already be halfway to dead by now. Alucard's body must be working overtime to hold the toxins off, but there's no possible way of knowing how long he'll be able to maintain it.
And in that moment, it's not about finding a way home, or about the castle, or their bargain. It's not about Alucard being perhaps her only chance to see her family again. Her own troubles and perils are the very last thing on her mind — so much so that they're not even present to begin with.
He's hurt.
He's hurt and she can't just stand still and do nothing.]
Lie down. Hurry. Conserve your strength, every bit that you can. I think — I think I can help.
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Is this the moment where she stakes him? Because he's at his most vulnerable? There's fear in his eyes for a moment, and he doesn't think he could fight her off if he had to right now. No, no that's all irrational -- she doesn't have a weapon, she could just leave him to suffer if that was it, but the gnawing agony of the past few years aches at him.
Alucard closes his eyes, slowly sinking down to lie on the forest floor.]
What will you do?
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