[It's probably not very wise to be giving Wicked Overlord lessons to the person who was ready to kill her just an hour ago, and who may still kill her three days from now, and who doesn't seem to be very good at it in the meantime. But still, common sense goes further than just self-preservation, and no one ever raised her not to speak her mind.]
...We always had jokes, at supper. Riddles and recitations. Sometimes I had to be quiet — children must be seen and not heard, as the saying goes — but most of the time there was merriment. I never had the quickest wit at the table, but not for lack of trying. It's just that there was no besting my father, is all.
[She pokes at her stew, eating another few spoonfuls as if to cover up some slight bashfulness at her own candor.]
And have to step over your collapsed body from both hunger and exhaustion? I'd rather not.
[But her point remains, feeble his excuses are. He cannot argue more than that. For now, he humors her, wishing he would not relish the company he has now. It's a dangerous game, one he should not be risking to begin with.]
[Well, all right, no pressure at all, then. Just a matter of finding a properly funny joke on an instant's notice, and hoping that she's guessed right about the lord of the castle's sense of humor — and that he even has one at all, to begin with.]
Well...d'you know what a ghost's favorite meal is?
[She lowers her bowl into her lap a minute, focusing on him while she waits.]
[All of a sudden, the notion of telling jokes at all suddenly seems ridiculous and absolutely certain to fall flat. But there had been a court jester in Daventry for years and years, and if there was one thing that Dagonet had always stood by, it was that a good delivery can rescue a poor joke, but even the best of jokes won't land if the delivery is halfhearted.
So, rather than letting self-consciousness get the better of her in the moment, she opts to simply grin at him instead.]
[Silence fills the room for a moment. Whatever Alucard had been expecting, it was perhaps not that. He looks confused for a moment, then snorts softly.
Eventually, he adds wryly:] A ghastly joke, to be sure.
[There, again — he won't laugh outright, it seems, but he's not immune to mirth entirely. He'd done similarly when she'd sneezed, before, and even if it's not a hearty, deep belly laugh, it's still a reaction.
A monster wouldn't laugh, she thinks vaguely, and returns to eating her stew. A beast this Alucard may be, and a wild one at that, but a monster he's not.]
[How much, she wonders, is safe to say? He'd caught on to her reluctance to mention her homeland or anything of how she'd made it onto his doorstep. But just to speak of them in general should be all right, she supposes, so long as she's careful.
Besides, it's progress enough that he seems interested at all. Interested enough to ask, at least. It's better than wanting nothing to do with her, or seeking to add her to the ranks of his other visitors outside.]
...Yes, that's right. My parents, and a brother.
[Not a twin brother, she reminds herself. That's a touch too specific, as identifying descriptions go.]
Likely they're looking for me by now. Surely my brother, but perhaps my father too. It...wasn't that I left home, exactly, so much as it is I was taken from it.
[A family to lose, if he's interpreting it right. Taken away in such a manner that she needs magic, which is absurd to him, unless it was indeed very far away.
It tugs a bit at his heart strings, but then he internally recoils. No, he knows better. Don't open yourself, don't empathize, damn it. She's here for a reason. Even if it isn't to hurt him, he still doesn't owe her a damned thing.]
With magic, you were taken away. And with magic, you look to return.
[She ducks her head, fixing her eyes on the dwindling portion of stew in the bowl. It's mostly only broth left, and a few smaller pieces of venison and vegetable. She'll finish it in a minute, but for the most part she's all but inhaled what was given her, and she is starting to feel better for it.
How strange, that a kindness as small as a bowl of soup can make such a strong memory in one's mind. Even now she remembers the kindly dwarf in Tamir, filling two bowls for himself, then directing her unexpectedly to take one of them for herself.]
Have you ever met someone who seems larger than life, even though you know deep down that they're still only a person like everyone else? The sort of person who can do anything, who...always seems to know what to do, no matter how grave the danger or strange the peril.
[There are a few people that suit that description, but more than anything he certainly thinks of Dracula. Literally larger than most people would ever be, imposing and powerful -- but still a man who mattered to his family. Who was a good husband, a good father. Whose end was miserable and sad.
That's my father. I always thought he could do anything.
[She laughs a little, just under her breath.]
Most of the time, I was right. I only ever saw him look helpless once.
[She stirs her stew thoughtfully, then moves the spoon to the side and picks it up to finish it outright, tipping the rest of the cooling broth into her mouth before setting the empty bowl back onto the nightstand.]
It's hard not to feel as though, if he were in this predicament instead of me, he'd have found his way home already. Contrived some means. Nothing could possibly keep him away.
[Isn't that just how he feels about Dracula? So strong, only weakened by how much he loved his wife. But then, too, Dracula chose his wife over everything else. A tragedy.
He takes the bowl, thinking to himself.]
No living person is flawless. Despite how we might admire them. Unless he is a powerful magician himself-- [unlikely, she is just a peasant] --then he would be trapped in similar circumstances.
[She smiles sadly, saying nothing for a moment. Alexander had been nothing remotely close to a powerful magician when he'd started out, yet he'd mastered it for himself out of simple necessity. Daddy, too — picking up a wand to challenge Mordack, casting spells like he'd been born to it after a few minutes' study of the right book. Rationally, she knows full well that those were successes of opportunity moreso than effort — access to magic does tend to be the first step toward mastering it, after all — but still, it's hard not to feel a little hopeless, setting her own experiences next to theirs.
Surely Alucard has magic in this castle. All too surely, it'll be behind one of those doors he locks, or in the hold he's forbidden her to enter. He'll know if she goes in, and will kill her — she believes that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But maybe there's still something she can do, some means she can find, and facilitate her own escape.
At least she's brave. Bravery and determination seem like the only things she's got going for her right now, all things considered.]
I know. I suppose it's just that I miss him so, I'm growing fanciful.
[She folds her hands in her lap, reflexively shifting to sit more primly, with unconscious poise and dignity.]
This is the most I've talked to anyone since I was taken. It's...nice.
When was the last time Alucard had talked to anyone? He can't even remember. He's spent so long by himself. This must be the first conversation he's had in sometime. Has it been months or years? Long enough for the bones of Sumi and Taka to have been picked clean, their skeletons bleached white in the sun. Long enough that the dressing gowns are but tattered cloth.
Too long.]
To what purpose would someone have taken a peasant girl?
[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...]
[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?]
[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.
[...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.
[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.]
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[But he understands a bit. Not wanting to eat alone. Maybe that's why pathetically he'll talk to dolls of old familiar faces.
...He should probably hide those.]
Yes. It doesn't offer me much nutrition, but I enjoy food.
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[It's probably not very wise to be giving Wicked Overlord lessons to the person who was ready to kill her just an hour ago, and who may still kill her three days from now, and who doesn't seem to be very good at it in the meantime. But still, common sense goes further than just self-preservation, and no one ever raised her not to speak her mind.]
...We always had jokes, at supper. Riddles and recitations. Sometimes I had to be quiet — children must be seen and not heard, as the saying goes — but most of the time there was merriment. I never had the quickest wit at the table, but not for lack of trying. It's just that there was no besting my father, is all.
[She pokes at her stew, eating another few spoonfuls as if to cover up some slight bashfulness at her own candor.]
Do you like jokes?
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[But her point remains, feeble his excuses are. He cannot argue more than that. For now, he humors her, wishing he would not relish the company he has now. It's a dangerous game, one he should not be risking to begin with.]
I like funny jokes. So you may do your best.
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Well...d'you know what a ghost's favorite meal is?
[She lowers her bowl into her lap a minute, focusing on him while she waits.]
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No. Do enlighten me, please.
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So, rather than letting self-consciousness get the better of her in the moment, she opts to simply grin at him instead.]
Ghost toast! With boo-berry jam, of course.
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Eventually, he adds wryly:] A ghastly joke, to be sure.
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[There, again — he won't laugh outright, it seems, but he's not immune to mirth entirely. He'd done similarly when she'd sneezed, before, and even if it's not a hearty, deep belly laugh, it's still a reaction.
A monster wouldn't laugh, she thinks vaguely, and returns to eating her stew. A beast this Alucard may be, and a wild one at that, but a monster he's not.]
...Perhaps I'll tell you a better one tomorrow.
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[There's a moment as he considers, letting her enjoy her stew before he chooses to speak again.]
You have family waiting for you. Yes?
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Besides, it's progress enough that he seems interested at all. Interested enough to ask, at least. It's better than wanting nothing to do with her, or seeking to add her to the ranks of his other visitors outside.]
...Yes, that's right. My parents, and a brother.
[Not a twin brother, she reminds herself. That's a touch too specific, as identifying descriptions go.]
Likely they're looking for me by now. Surely my brother, but perhaps my father too. It...wasn't that I left home, exactly, so much as it is I was taken from it.
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It tugs a bit at his heart strings, but then he internally recoils. No, he knows better. Don't open yourself, don't empathize, damn it. She's here for a reason. Even if it isn't to hurt him, he still doesn't owe her a damned thing.]
With magic, you were taken away. And with magic, you look to return.
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[She ducks her head, fixing her eyes on the dwindling portion of stew in the bowl. It's mostly only broth left, and a few smaller pieces of venison and vegetable. She'll finish it in a minute, but for the most part she's all but inhaled what was given her, and she is starting to feel better for it.
How strange, that a kindness as small as a bowl of soup can make such a strong memory in one's mind. Even now she remembers the kindly dwarf in Tamir, filling two bowls for himself, then directing her unexpectedly to take one of them for herself.]
Have you ever met someone who seems larger than life, even though you know deep down that they're still only a person like everyone else? The sort of person who can do anything, who...always seems to know what to do, no matter how grave the danger or strange the peril.
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Alucard glances away.]
Perhaps I do.
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[She laughs a little, just under her breath.]
Most of the time, I was right. I only ever saw him look helpless once.
[She stirs her stew thoughtfully, then moves the spoon to the side and picks it up to finish it outright, tipping the rest of the cooling broth into her mouth before setting the empty bowl back onto the nightstand.]
It's hard not to feel as though, if he were in this predicament instead of me, he'd have found his way home already. Contrived some means. Nothing could possibly keep him away.
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He takes the bowl, thinking to himself.]
No living person is flawless. Despite how we might admire them. Unless he is a powerful magician himself-- [unlikely, she is just a peasant] --then he would be trapped in similar circumstances.
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Surely Alucard has magic in this castle. All too surely, it'll be behind one of those doors he locks, or in the hold he's forbidden her to enter. He'll know if she goes in, and will kill her — she believes that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But maybe there's still something she can do, some means she can find, and facilitate her own escape.
At least she's brave. Bravery and determination seem like the only things she's got going for her right now, all things considered.]
I know. I suppose it's just that I miss him so, I'm growing fanciful.
[She folds her hands in her lap, reflexively shifting to sit more primly, with unconscious poise and dignity.]
This is the most I've talked to anyone since I was taken. It's...nice.
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When was the last time Alucard had talked to anyone? He can't even remember. He's spent so long by himself. This must be the first conversation he's had in sometime. Has it been months or years? Long enough for the bones of Sumi and Taka to have been picked clean, their skeletons bleached white in the sun. Long enough that the dressing gowns are but tattered cloth.
Too long.]
To what purpose would someone have taken a peasant girl?
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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...]
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[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?]
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[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.
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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.
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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.
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[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.]
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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.]
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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.
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