They hold up to being touched, some people have been sitting on top of theirs to make sure no one can open them. I considered it, but decided against it. The things that come out don't necessarily stick around, but they definitely attack everything in sight, and they keep coming. I wouldn't be surprised if you saw some of them out there among the rest.
[ he turns his head, and there's a gunshot--he shot something, presumably someone else's sin. then a shuffling noise, as he tucks the gun away again. ]
I can try with the lids though, just as a precaution. I can't tell you what, of the things I've done, this place would pick, but it's not likely any of them are pretty. I can try blocking it off in a corner and then go meet you?
I'm still going to advise against touching it. Everyone's coffin may not function the same.
[He expects it's a very full coffin. Merely touching it might be enough to compel whatever is inside to crawl out.
Despite it making little difference to what he can see, he brings the screen closer at the gunshot. Whatever Alucard just shot, it sounded- feral, which is about what you'd expect, in this altered Duplicity.]
You can leave a notice there as well, if you've some paper on hand. Though I suspect it'd just make the curiosity greater for some.
Once you're done there, we can meet at-
[He falls abruptly silent, glancing off screen.]
...Hang on, I think- someones calling me.
[If Alucard listens close enough, he might be able to make out a muffled plea for help, so faint as to almost be inaudible. But Anderson seems to hear it well enough: Father! Father! Help me! He walks blindly toward it, passing trees and seemingly empty, frozen-over lakes.]
[ he's already moving now, hoisting lids with one hand and slapping them down on top of 'his' tomb. it's the best plan they have, and he can't stay in here forever. there's probably paper somewhere but the thought leaves his mind immediately when anderson's thought process stalls. ]
Anderson?
[ it's natural for him to want to help someone that calls on him, but something is wrong. he can hear the voice, and it's a little suspicious, considering the circumstances. he quickly finishes with the lids and heads outside, looking up and down the street, at the chaos, and looks to the device. ]
Anderson, take two seconds and tell me where you are so I can meet you there. I'll never find you in this mess otherwise.
[ he sounds vaguely agitated, now. ]
Or just turn on your GPS and send me the ping, if you're going to be busy. I'll follow that.
[There's a distracted quality to the glance he gives his surroundings. The landscape has changed enough that it's difficult to pinpoint an exact location.]
Well, I know I'm in the Up, and I know I'm among the Solace trees, but I couldn't tell you where among them I am- I'm coming. Where are you?
[He's not addressing Alucard, clearly. The voice steadily grows in volume, but it's no less muffled, and it has a wet, garbling quality that makes Anderson fall still, his eyes dropping to the edge of a pool.]
There's people under the ice.
[He states this a-matter-of-factly, drawing out a bayonet. It's far from the worst thing he's seen today.
New voices rise up from beneath the ice, and muffled as they are, it's hard to apply an identity to any of them, but he knows they're familiar. He leans close and strains to listen, and he can just about make out the original among the mass of pleas:
[ alucard is on the move immediately. he was late in getting his word, and his vision altered, so he's still getting used to everything being monochrome, but he's managing well enough for now. the solace trees is--enough to get him close, and he should be able to find anderson from there, even if he has to sniff him out.
there's people under the ice.
that gives him pause, and he swears under his breath. it has to be another trick, right? ]
They're not real people.
[ bluntly. he doesn't believe they are, anyway, and so what if he's wrong? it'll be worse if anderson gets stuck under it too.
there're periodic gunshots, or the rending of flesh. groans, cries, the crackle of flames. he keeps moving.
it's when he hears maxwell that he stops entirely, eyes widening. ]
Anderson, it's a trick. Listen to me.
[ maxwell isn't here. hell, even if he is, alucard still doesn't care. which is awful, probably, but maxwell kinda sucked, sorry dude.
he starts to move faster after that little interlude, hurrying through the streets with purpose. ]
Get away from the ice. You know better than to trust it. Meet me at the edge of the trees.
[He knows, logically, it probably is a trick; they are in some sort of hell, after all, and it seems to play on ones weaknesses, but he can't help but hesitate at the sound of Maxwell.]
Integra's here. There's no reason Maxwell couldn't have been among the new arrivals as well.
[It's a fair possibility, isn't it? He didn't notice Integra during orientation, so perhaps he passed over Maxwell as well.
He doesn't get any closer to the ice, but he stares at it, transfixed, trying to make out the bodies that periodically thump against the surface. There's a spiderweb of cracks developing under their hands. He can see nails scraping at the ice, cracking against it, bleeding.]
He'll die if it isn't a trick, Alucard, and I don't know if we come back this time, in this place. [Maxwell's already paid the price for his sins. If he's here, then Anderson wants to help him.] It's some sort of- perdition, I'd rather be certain-
[He's wrong, of course, because the moment his attention is diverted from the pool, a hand snakes out of the ice and snaps around his ankle. That would have been easy enough to kick off on its own, except there's more, hundreds of hands rising from the ice and groping at him, seeking to drag him down into the water. The device slips free of his fingers as he wrenches himself back, raising his bayonet above his head with the intent of slicing himself free. But cold, clammy hands curl around his face and the shock of who they belong to, of Maxwell's snarling, pallid face coming into view, renders him momentarily still.
"We're the earthly agents of divine punishment. You taught us that, Father, to kill the heathens, kill the heretics, kill the monsters; I only ever did what you taught me, and you killed me for it."
A small, feminine hand curls around the handle of his bayonet, and he finds himself struggling to bring it down as Yumie climbs onto him and wraps her arms around him, holding him close.
"You left us. You left me." Her fingers gradually manage to wrench the weapon away, throwing it out of reach. "You weren't there to save me when the butler came. It's cold, Father, in limbo. It's so cold and I miss Heinkel."
The hands claw into his clothes, into his skin, and by the time his mind has kicked back into gear he's already being dragged steadily toward the water. He turns and attempts to wrench himself free, but there's too many of them, much too many to be able to untangle himself. His groping fingers simply catch uselessly on air and ice. He recognises the faces and voices, now: his students, and they whisper cold, damning things in his ear.
Anderson, they're like the beings in the tombs! They're only here to hurt you! It's not really Maxwell!
[ if he sounded agitated before, he really sounds like it now, and he moves faster. he's in the trees now, but he's not able to see anderson yet, only the others milling around, or getting pulled under, and he ignores them. it's a sin, but he ignores them.
he's about to cut him off when the thralls, creatures, do it for him by forcing him to drop the device. ]
Anderson? Anderson! Shit.
[ he can smell him among the death, the decay, the cold, and with his hearing he can hear what anderson's children are speaking to him even though the device is on the ground. he regrets not telling him about yumie, now. to find out like this is a massive cruelty--
--finally, he spots him and tucks his device away, rushing forward to drop to one knee and grip his grasping hand. he yanks, hard, and it just makes them mad. ]
They're tricks.
[ and then, alucard is all hands. so many, more than are even grasping at anderson, and he pulls their grasps off of the priest forcibly so that he can try to get him away from the water. ]
[The chill of the water pervades his entire body the moment he touches it. He feels it right down to his bones, like there's ice developing in his marrow. And the further he descends, the harder it get to struggle, and every breath comes rasping out of a throat rubbed raw by the frost. Alucard's hand is warm, comparatively, when it wraps around his, and he digs his fingers into as hard as he can as he's hauled back toward the earth.
"No, don't take him! Not again!" Yumie shouts, and she pulls and buries herself against him, but it doesn't do her any good: once the arms come out, it's all over for the beings dwelling in the pool. He's heaved beyond the point they can cross and when they recognise their failure, they descend back into the water, their voices shrill and angry.
It's not quiet when he collapses against Alucard, shivering violently, but his voice is still audible over the noise.]
Sorry, I'm sorry.
[As he presses his forehead against Alucard's chest, there isn't a hint of warmth to be felt. His heartbeat is slow, sluggish, and his breaths are chilled enough that they aren't misting the air. He thoughtlessly burrows against him, seeking the warmth of his dry clothes.]
Cold.
[So cold, and it's getting harder and harder to focus beyond it.]
[ for once, alucard registers the cold, because it's that bad. it sinks below his skin when anderson grips him, deeper than when he was in a fridge for three whole days, deeper than the death in him--
--he ignores the shouts of the dead, pulling anderson close against him arms around him, and he knows he can't warm him up like this. he's just not capable. he can leach some of the cold out of him, but it will just make him, personally, colder, which won't bother him but won't help anderson. ]
Come on.
[ his voice is hoarse as he stands, trying to pull anderson to his feet. he'll hold him up as much as necessary, carry him if he has to, and he doesn't relinquish his grip on him. ]
We need to get you moving. Get you close to the--the fires, the magma, something. This place is going to kill even you.
[ and, well, he's not about to let that happen. that's his job, if it happens. he listens intently to anderson's slow heartbeat, and he starts moving again, one extra arm darting out to snag the discarded device on the ground.
so: whether he can walk or alucard has to drag him or carry him, it's time to get out of this icy hell. ]
[His limbs are stiff and numb, difficult to manoeuvre, but he's nothing if not resilient: he manages hobble along despite his condition. It's slow going, though, so when Alucard starts to haul him through the trees, he doesn't protest the manhandling.]
Not that easy to kill.
[When he speaks, his voice is slurred and his tongue feels big and heavy in his mouth. He might have a little too much confidence, considering.
The air rapidly starts to warm once they're beyond the trees, but he continues to shiver with the same intensity. Ideally, he could curl under some blankets until the chill subsides, but since they don't have that luxury here, they'll just have to make do with the more unconventional offerings of the city.]
Beach.
[It shouldn't be hard to warm up there, considering the entire ocean is magma.]
Neither am I, and I just spent three days in a morgue. Don't be too smug.
[ grumpily. but he keeps moving, keeps anderson moving, and takes a sharp turn when anderson says beach. it's not like there's any way they can get a cab or anything in this mess, so he's left to hoof it. it works though, and things get increasingly warmer as they slowly near the beach. rather than his lazy work taking out things in the way he just ignores them now, pushing through, working--
--well, they get there eventually, and the ocean is still magma, though it's so strange to witness in monochrome. anderson's face is still cold when he touches it, and it makes alucard frown as they stand on the hot sand. ]
[Anderson's head is drooping by the time they reach the beach. He's arrived the tired stage of hypothermia, but he forces his eyes open, keeps himself alert, because he knows the last thing you want to do when suffering hypothermia is go to sleep.
The hot sand is pleasant, so he slowly descends to it- perhaps not entirely deliberately, since his legs are numb and weak right now.
His wet clothes aren't helping matters. They're just keeping the cold insulated. He manages to shrug off the cassock easy enough, but the rest proves difficult for his stiff-fingers, and he ends up having to make a vague gesture for assistance.]
Livid, as far down as where shame appears, were the... disconsolate shades within the ice... [His voice is a listless mumble.] Setting their teeth unto the note of storks. [He blinks blearily at Alucard.] The level in which Judas Iscariot resides.
I get it, I get it. You're not a traitor like the actual Judas, you know that, right?
[ bluntly. it's still stupid. he helps anderson get the wet clothing off so that he can get warmer, meticulous and careful, and gives him his own coat before laying the clothes out on the sand to dry. sure, it'll get them all sandy, but once they're dry they can be shaken out and he can put them back on.
once he's done, he settles in the sand in front of him, staring, watching, making sure he's definitely not falling asleep. ]
Hey. Pay attention to me. Once you're warm, we need to keep busy so people don't die. How much of the rest of the problems have you seen? Someone let some vampires out of a tomb, they're gonna be a problem because all they want to do is eat. A couple even tried to eat me.
[ it's not a great subject change, but it's pertinent to what's happening around them, and hopefully a distraction. he's trying, he's just not good at it. ]
I don't think anyone is... quite on the same level as Judas.
[That isn't him saying he doesn't belong in Treachery, though. Perhaps he does for his divergence from God's word, and for Maxwell, and for Yumie- Yumie, who brings a grimace to his face when he thinks of her.
He tugs Alucard's coat tight around him, and he feels strangely small, sitting there half-naked in the sand, his knees pulled up to his chest.]
I've seen some creatures running amok. I'd assumed they were just... just part of the landscape, rather than escapees.
[Which is a reasonable conclusion to come to.] Surprised they went after you. There's not enough meat on you to make a worthwhile meal. [It's an attempt at humour, but it falls rather flat under his listless speech, and it isn't helped by him continuing on with:] Was it lying? About Yumie. Yumiko.
[This is perhaps not the best time, but he has to ask. He has to know. He won't be able to think of anything else if he doesn't have an answer.]
[ bland. alucard feels very strongly about traitors, and treachery, and he wouldn't give anderson the time of day if he thought he belonged there. and obviously, his opinion is the most important one.
he shakes his head, about the creatures. ]
There are all kinds. They're being thorough about it.
[ he snorts, at the comment about him not having any meat on his bones--it's true, he's pretty lean and lanky in this form. not a great meal. when anderson continues, he hesitates, which is answer enough, but he doesn't look away. ]
After you died, or rather as you died, Walter arrived. She went after him, but Millennium had altered him enough that she couldn't win. Heinkel tried to kill him later, I believe, but she failed. As far as I'm aware, he injured her badly, but the Vatican took care of that.
[ he's not going to go into detail. it was a fucking slaughter. he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. ]
I thought you were better off not knowing that part.
[ which is--oddly kind, for him, all things considered. ]
I told you he was the worst.
[ he's not making a joke, or anything, or making light of it, perhaps surprisingly: while he has and had no emotional attachment to anderson's children or pupils, his distaste for walter is just that deep.
but he's also pointedly putting the blame on walter, not on anderson, like the shades had done. ]
[He falls silent and very still as Alucard answers. It isn't easy to hear, but it is something he should hear. He thinks so, anyway; maybe he's just trying to punish himself for his failings, because the apparitions were right- Yumie and Maxwell would be alive if he had been better, and Heinkel's alone because he wasn't good enough. Even with God's power, he wasn't good enough. He drained himself for nothing.
He'd spent the last several months trying not to acknowledge all that was lost in London. But it's weighing on him, now, impossible to ignore.]
You were right. But I appreciate you telling me now, all the same.
[He leans his face into his knees, quiet for a long moment. The shaking steadily subsides. He's warming up.]
God himself will lead you; he will be with you; he will not fail you or desert you. Have no fear, do not be alarmed. [He mumbles, as though trying to reassure himself.] Put your hope in God, be strong, let your heart be bold, put your hope in God. [After another pause, he raises his eyes to Alucard.] I have never asked anything of God, not even mercy. But I feel empty, and alone.
[This all had to come to a head, eventually. He couldn't deny what he'd lost forever.]
[ alucard sits quietly, letting him process. it's a strange thing to watch, to not want to disrupt. but he does respect him, and respects the need to mourn. ]
I'll always speak the truth.
[ which puts his oddly avoidant tones when speaking of heinkel and yumiko into sharp relief: he was trying to avoid the elephant in the room. which worked, until now.
at least anderson is warming up. physically, he'll be alright.
mentally though, spiritually, alucard wonders, and when he's finally addressed, he hesitates, because it stings. the familiarity of it burns, because he knows that ache, that pain, and his own method of dealing with it had been a disaster.
when he speaks, his voice is low. ]
You have a choice. Carry on in conviction, with what you've known as your truth for so many years, or make the same mistakes I did to try and run from it. But it never goes away, if you run. It hangs over you, drags its fingers through everything you do in spite for thinking that escaping was the right choice. It's--better, in the end, to press on.
[ look, alucard is still spiteful and hates god, but he's not gonna tell alexander anderson that the whole 'denying his faith because he felt abandoned' thing was a good idea. he knows it's not on the table to begin with, not really, but to see him shaken at all is--difficult, in its own way. ]
[He nods slowly to Alucard's words, his chin brushing his knees. He's at perhaps his lowest point, but he won't abandon his beliefs. In the end, it's his own failings that led to his defeat, to his losses, not God's; he's simply... struggling, right now, to feel the presence of God with him, and it's hard for a man who has felt it so strongly throughout his life.]
No, I... I won't run. It's not His failings that brought me here- it's mine, and as alone and empty as I feel, I can't blame Him for them. Draining myself dry in His name would mean even less, if I ran now.
[He runs his fingers under his glasses, startling at finding moisture there. It's been a long time since he's cried, really cried, rather than simply becoming misty-eyed, or shedding tears in a moment of profound pleasure. The tears that do come are gentle, absent of any trembling or a tightening throat.
Slipping the glasses off, he catches the tears on a palm.]
I'll press on. I'll find a way to.
[He always does, even under the worst of circumstances.]
That wasn't exactly the point I was trying to make, with regards to faulting anyone.
[ he watches him, and it's the first time he's seen him cry like this. and so quietly, at that. he doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't, for a moment. what can he? it's clear anderson blames himself for the deaths of his children, even if other people pulled the proverbial trigger. alucard killed maxwell, but anderson allowed it--
--but maxwell put himself in that position, with his wild plan, with his heresy. that's maxwell's fault, not anderson's. perhaps yumiko's devotion to anderson was his fault, but not her devotion to god, nor her death at walter's hands. ]
You've already found a purpose here, priest, in bringing God to the Godless. In caring for the children in need. You have your calling, even if our hunts here are cut short.
[ he reaches out, one hand pressing to the side of anderson's neck, fingers splayed somewhat. ]
And to think, you've even gotten me to agree to attend.
[ partially at susan's behest, but still, alucard even setting foot in a church is pretty remarkable. ]
[What Alucard says is exactly what he needed to hear. He's quiet for a moment, thinking, leaning absentmindedly into the hand on his neck.]
I suppose six hundred years of life have given you some wisdom.
[It wasn't enough that he still had people dependent on him, last time. He'd run. In the opposite direction Alucard had when Alucard had been given the choice of discarding his humanity, but he'd run all the same, sought to turn himself into something that couldn't feel and couldn't hurt. This time, when he says he won't run, he means it: he won't destroy himself, he won't abandon those who need him.
He nods to Alucard's words. Before leaving Duplicity, he'll make sure those who rely on him have what they need. That'll be his reason for going on.
And Alucard- Alucard, too, will be part of that reason.]
That is something of a feat.
[He smiles a little, at that, moving to curl his fingers over the ones splayed across his neck.
There's a little more colour to his face. Some pink around his nose and along his cheekbones, courtesy of the tears. And they still come, but they're slower, now.]
When you were lost, I... [There's a beat of silence while he collects his thoughts.] Wish there had been someone there for you, as you are here for me, right now. But I suppose it'll have to be one of those 'better late than never' situations.
[ perhaps it's funny: alucard doesn't see himself as part of that reason, not really, but he definitely needs it--perhaps not most of all, but somewhere in the middle. he just doesn't realize it, not quite. doesn't need to, right now.
he huffs a laugh, about it being a feat, and his thumb idles along the line of anderson's jaw, thoughtful. ]
We're still not even sure if I'm going to burn or not, so that much will be an adventure.
[ he pauses, at what the priest says to him, and he searches his face quietly for a long moment. there's an emotion there, one that aches, and he finally looks away. ]
I had no one, at the time. Alienation--is a constant, for me.
[ he looks at him again, and smiles, and cants his head. ]
I would have been content, if there'd been someone like you.
[ it's so similar to what he'd told anderson at the end, isn't it? but anderson hasn't heard that, yet.
[Perhaps he should be opposed to having a being who has the potential to burn when on consecrated grounds enter his church, but he isn't. He's just grateful.]
Well, I'm eager to find out, for one.
[It's a light, playful comment. The despondency has eased some, and when Alucard continues, his words make Anderson's throat tighten and his breaths come hitching for an altogether different reason.
He would have gladly been that person. He would have been happy, to be the reason Alucard - Vlad - persisted as a human, perhaps even met peacefully with death. He would have been content, to be such a profound presence in his life.
Maybe he can't give Alucard that now, but, God, he wants to try for something close.
It's thoughtless, when he leans forward and kisses him. Gently, fondly, and perhaps a little wet, but warm, now that the hypothermia has receded.]
We're both estranged from people, at large, but this- it's enough that you haven't turned me away, upon seeing this, and know that I would have been that for you, and that I would be that now. [He speaks against his lips, voice barely audible.] I'm glad it's you.
[And he finds that he's entirely sincere. He can't imagine it being anyone else.]
I'm sure you'll be plenty amused when I gently send up steam all through Mass.
[ mildly. look, he burns from anderson's blood, he's probably going to burn in church. but he's lighthearted about it, which is charming, and fine.
and honestly, the thought of anderson being that person has haunted him for decades. how different things would have been, if he'd gladly fallen as a man. ]
You were just born several centuries too late.
[ soft. he returns the kiss, pressing into it in a way that's almost fervent, aching. probably worrying, from an unbiased standpoint, but he's certainly not in a position at the moment to judge himself craving the priest's affection.
it's what he says last that draws a faint, keening sound from him: his hand shifts, pressing to anderson's nape, and he just--clutches at him, emotionally bare. he's not crying, not again, but it's close, and he closes his eyes. ]
I'd be a fool to turn you away. I've made plenty of mistakes, but I won't make that one.
[ he smiles then, a little wry, and adds: ]
Will you take my confession, here in the sand? It's been many centuries. There's much to tell, but I'll spare you the details. [ a sigh, but then: ] I would have long ago tried to raze this entire city to the ground heedless of its occupants without a grounding force.
[ a beat. ]
Though now it seems to be doing it to itself, without my help.
[One of his hands slips to Alucard's waist when Alucard clutches at him, holding him gently and easily while they indulge in each other. It would be so easy to succumb to his own fervent, aching need; it fills him so completely that he could drown in it, but he recognises the depths of it and-
Is it really Alucard who needs to make a confession?]
The state of affairs are unusual enough that I think I can give the delay a pass.
[He leans his face into Alucard's neck. His mind is a-whirr with thoughts, but he still takes the time to listen.
It's a slow, clawing realisation, what exactly this desperate need signifies, why Alucard's words mean so much to him, why he's enough to soothe the ache of loss and failure, and why he's so discontent with Integra's presence. He wants Alucard in a way he shouldn't, in a way Alucard can't reciprocate. In a way Integra already has already earned, occupying a space Anderson will never have access to. He isn't Alucard's grounding force, in the end.
He presses himself close to Alucard.]
You're going to need to perform a lot of penance for that, I'm afraid. Conveniently, we seem to be in hell, so killing a few of those tomb-dwellers should suffice as a start.
[The weight of everything drops against his shoulders again, but he pushes back, this time, and drags his lips on Alucard's throat. He doesn't want to let go yet. It might be the last time he lets himself do this.]
But we can spare a few moments more, before that. Tell me everything you wish to say. You have my ear.
[ anderson could make his own confession. should. it would make things easier, in the same moment as they would make things harder. there's no middle ground with them, though.
alucard's head tilts when anderson tucks into his neck, stretching out his throat compliantly. much like a dog rolling over to show its belly in a sign of trust, he's begun to allow the priest to see all of his softer edges, the parts of him that would be so easy to rip out, metaphorically speaking. ]
How kind of you.
[ a murmur. when anderson presses close his free hand curls around his back, clutching at the fabric of his own coat to urge him still closer. needy and wanting, as usual. ]
Will you aid me, in my penance?
[ his voice is hoarse, almost raw, as he says it. they both know that alucard is not, and will not ever, actually seek forgiveness from god. this is all for anderson, a confession to him directly.
his throat stretches out further with a sigh, fingers losing themselves in anderson's hair. he's distracted, briefly, by the touch of lips, because it's so pleasant, but he does have more to say. ]
You promised to kill me, and I'll hold you to it. But more than that, I need you in between now and then. Aside from the obvious troubles and issues being here, I've--enjoyed living, these past few months, in a way I'm not sure I ever have.
[ a pause. ]
I feel guilt for that, for being content when things are calm, for being happy with the stability we've managed to cultivate. I don't know what to do with myself otherwise, though. I shouldn't be glad you're here with me.
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no subject
[ he turns his head, and there's a gunshot--he shot something, presumably someone else's sin. then a shuffling noise, as he tucks the gun away again. ]
I can try with the lids though, just as a precaution. I can't tell you what, of the things I've done, this place would pick, but it's not likely any of them are pretty. I can try blocking it off in a corner and then go meet you?
no subject
[He expects it's a very full coffin. Merely touching it might be enough to compel whatever is inside to crawl out.
Despite it making little difference to what he can see, he brings the screen closer at the gunshot. Whatever Alucard just shot, it sounded- feral, which is about what you'd expect, in this altered Duplicity.]
You can leave a notice there as well, if you've some paper on hand. Though I suspect it'd just make the curiosity greater for some.
Once you're done there, we can meet at-
[He falls abruptly silent, glancing off screen.]
...Hang on, I think- someones calling me.
[If Alucard listens close enough, he might be able to make out a muffled plea for help, so faint as to almost be inaudible. But Anderson seems to hear it well enough: Father! Father! Help me! He walks blindly toward it, passing trees and seemingly empty, frozen-over lakes.]
no subject
Anderson?
[ it's natural for him to want to help someone that calls on him, but something is wrong. he can hear the voice, and it's a little suspicious, considering the circumstances. he quickly finishes with the lids and heads outside, looking up and down the street, at the chaos, and looks to the device. ]
Anderson, take two seconds and tell me where you are so I can meet you there. I'll never find you in this mess otherwise.
[ he sounds vaguely agitated, now. ]
Or just turn on your GPS and send me the ping, if you're going to be busy. I'll follow that.
no subject
[There's a distracted quality to the glance he gives his surroundings. The landscape has changed enough that it's difficult to pinpoint an exact location.]
Well, I know I'm in the Up, and I know I'm among the Solace trees, but I couldn't tell you where among them I am- I'm coming. Where are you?
[He's not addressing Alucard, clearly. The voice steadily grows in volume, but it's no less muffled, and it has a wet, garbling quality that makes Anderson fall still, his eyes dropping to the edge of a pool.]
There's people under the ice.
[He states this a-matter-of-factly, drawing out a bayonet. It's far from the worst thing he's seen today.
New voices rise up from beneath the ice, and muffled as they are, it's hard to apply an identity to any of them, but he knows they're familiar. He leans close and strains to listen, and he can just about make out the original among the mass of pleas:
"Father! Father! Help me! Don't let me die here!"
He takes a sharp breath.]
Maxwell?
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there's people under the ice.
that gives him pause, and he swears under his breath. it has to be another trick, right? ]
They're not real people.
[ bluntly. he doesn't believe they are, anyway, and so what if he's wrong? it'll be worse if anderson gets stuck under it too.
there're periodic gunshots, or the rending of flesh. groans, cries, the crackle of flames. he keeps moving.
it's when he hears maxwell that he stops entirely, eyes widening. ]
Anderson, it's a trick. Listen to me.
[ maxwell isn't here. hell, even if he is, alucard still doesn't care. which is awful, probably, but maxwell kinda sucked, sorry dude.
he starts to move faster after that little interlude, hurrying through the streets with purpose. ]
Get away from the ice. You know better than to trust it. Meet me at the edge of the trees.
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Integra's here. There's no reason Maxwell couldn't have been among the new arrivals as well.
[It's a fair possibility, isn't it? He didn't notice Integra during orientation, so perhaps he passed over Maxwell as well.
He doesn't get any closer to the ice, but he stares at it, transfixed, trying to make out the bodies that periodically thump against the surface. There's a spiderweb of cracks developing under their hands. He can see nails scraping at the ice, cracking against it, bleeding.]
He'll die if it isn't a trick, Alucard, and I don't know if we come back this time, in this place. [Maxwell's already paid the price for his sins. If he's here, then Anderson wants to help him.] It's some sort of- perdition, I'd rather be certain-
[He's wrong, of course, because the moment his attention is diverted from the pool, a hand snakes out of the ice and snaps around his ankle. That would have been easy enough to kick off on its own, except there's more, hundreds of hands rising from the ice and groping at him, seeking to drag him down into the water. The device slips free of his fingers as he wrenches himself back, raising his bayonet above his head with the intent of slicing himself free. But cold, clammy hands curl around his face and the shock of who they belong to, of Maxwell's snarling, pallid face coming into view, renders him momentarily still.
"We're the earthly agents of divine punishment. You taught us that, Father, to kill the heathens, kill the heretics, kill the monsters; I only ever did what you taught me, and you killed me for it."
A small, feminine hand curls around the handle of his bayonet, and he finds himself struggling to bring it down as Yumie climbs onto him and wraps her arms around him, holding him close.
"You left us. You left me." Her fingers gradually manage to wrench the weapon away, throwing it out of reach. "You weren't there to save me when the butler came. It's cold, Father, in limbo. It's so cold and I miss Heinkel."
The hands claw into his clothes, into his skin, and by the time his mind has kicked back into gear he's already being dragged steadily toward the water. He turns and attempts to wrench himself free, but there's too many of them, much too many to be able to untangle himself. His groping fingers simply catch uselessly on air and ice. He recognises the faces and voices, now: his students, and they whisper cold, damning things in his ear.
He's going to die here, he thinks.
And he deserves it.]
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[ if he sounded agitated before, he really sounds like it now, and he moves faster. he's in the trees now, but he's not able to see anderson yet, only the others milling around, or getting pulled under, and he ignores them. it's a sin, but he ignores them.
he's about to cut him off when the thralls, creatures, do it for him by forcing him to drop the device. ]
Anderson? Anderson! Shit.
[ he can smell him among the death, the decay, the cold, and with his hearing he can hear what anderson's children are speaking to him even though the device is on the ground. he regrets not telling him about yumie, now. to find out like this is a massive cruelty--
--finally, he spots him and tucks his device away, rushing forward to drop to one knee and grip his grasping hand. he yanks, hard, and it just makes them mad. ]
They're tricks.
[ and then, alucard is all hands. so many, more than are even grasping at anderson, and he pulls their grasps off of the priest forcibly so that he can try to get him away from the water. ]
We need to get you out of here.
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"No, don't take him! Not again!" Yumie shouts, and she pulls and buries herself against him, but it doesn't do her any good: once the arms come out, it's all over for the beings dwelling in the pool. He's heaved beyond the point they can cross and when they recognise their failure, they descend back into the water, their voices shrill and angry.
It's not quiet when he collapses against Alucard, shivering violently, but his voice is still audible over the noise.]
Sorry, I'm sorry.
[As he presses his forehead against Alucard's chest, there isn't a hint of warmth to be felt. His heartbeat is slow, sluggish, and his breaths are chilled enough that they aren't misting the air. He thoughtlessly burrows against him, seeking the warmth of his dry clothes.]
Cold.
[So cold, and it's getting harder and harder to focus beyond it.]
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--he ignores the shouts of the dead, pulling anderson close against him arms around him, and he knows he can't warm him up like this. he's just not capable. he can leach some of the cold out of him, but it will just make him, personally, colder, which won't bother him but won't help anderson. ]
Come on.
[ his voice is hoarse as he stands, trying to pull anderson to his feet. he'll hold him up as much as necessary, carry him if he has to, and he doesn't relinquish his grip on him. ]
We need to get you moving. Get you close to the--the fires, the magma, something. This place is going to kill even you.
[ and, well, he's not about to let that happen. that's his job, if it happens. he listens intently to anderson's slow heartbeat, and he starts moving again, one extra arm darting out to snag the discarded device on the ground.
so: whether he can walk or alucard has to drag him or carry him, it's time to get out of this icy hell. ]
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Not that easy to kill.
[When he speaks, his voice is slurred and his tongue feels big and heavy in his mouth. He might have a little too much confidence, considering.
The air rapidly starts to warm once they're beyond the trees, but he continues to shiver with the same intensity. Ideally, he could curl under some blankets until the chill subsides, but since they don't have that luxury here, they'll just have to make do with the more unconventional offerings of the city.]
Beach.
[It shouldn't be hard to warm up there, considering the entire ocean is magma.]
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[ grumpily. but he keeps moving, keeps anderson moving, and takes a sharp turn when anderson says beach. it's not like there's any way they can get a cab or anything in this mess, so he's left to hoof it. it works though, and things get increasingly warmer as they slowly near the beach. rather than his lazy work taking out things in the way he just ignores them now, pushing through, working--
--well, they get there eventually, and the ocean is still magma, though it's so strange to witness in monochrome. anderson's face is still cold when he touches it, and it makes alucard frown as they stand on the hot sand. ]
Somehow, my spot was gentler than yours.
[ which, hey: is fucking stupid. he's dracula. ]
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The hot sand is pleasant, so he slowly descends to it- perhaps not entirely deliberately, since his legs are numb and weak right now.
His wet clothes aren't helping matters. They're just keeping the cold insulated. He manages to shrug off the cassock easy enough, but the rest proves difficult for his stiff-fingers, and he ends up having to make a vague gesture for assistance.]
Livid, as far down as where shame appears, were the... disconsolate shades within the ice... [His voice is a listless mumble.] Setting their teeth unto the note of storks. [He blinks blearily at Alucard.] The level in which Judas Iscariot resides.
[Seems appropriate, doesn't it?]
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[ bluntly. it's still stupid. he helps anderson get the wet clothing off so that he can get warmer, meticulous and careful, and gives him his own coat before laying the clothes out on the sand to dry. sure, it'll get them all sandy, but once they're dry they can be shaken out and he can put them back on.
once he's done, he settles in the sand in front of him, staring, watching, making sure he's definitely not falling asleep. ]
Hey. Pay attention to me. Once you're warm, we need to keep busy so people don't die. How much of the rest of the problems have you seen? Someone let some vampires out of a tomb, they're gonna be a problem because all they want to do is eat. A couple even tried to eat me.
[ it's not a great subject change, but it's pertinent to what's happening around them, and hopefully a distraction. he's trying, he's just not good at it. ]
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[That isn't him saying he doesn't belong in Treachery, though. Perhaps he does for his divergence from God's word, and for Maxwell, and for Yumie- Yumie, who brings a grimace to his face when he thinks of her.
He tugs Alucard's coat tight around him, and he feels strangely small, sitting there half-naked in the sand, his knees pulled up to his chest.]
I've seen some creatures running amok. I'd assumed they were just... just part of the landscape, rather than escapees.
[Which is a reasonable conclusion to come to.] Surprised they went after you. There's not enough meat on you to make a worthwhile meal. [It's an attempt at humour, but it falls rather flat under his listless speech, and it isn't helped by him continuing on with:] Was it lying? About Yumie. Yumiko.
[This is perhaps not the best time, but he has to ask. He has to know. He won't be able to think of anything else if he doesn't have an answer.]
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[ bland. alucard feels very strongly about traitors, and treachery, and he wouldn't give anderson the time of day if he thought he belonged there. and obviously, his opinion is the most important one.
he shakes his head, about the creatures. ]
There are all kinds. They're being thorough about it.
[ he snorts, at the comment about him not having any meat on his bones--it's true, he's pretty lean and lanky in this form. not a great meal. when anderson continues, he hesitates, which is answer enough, but he doesn't look away. ]
After you died, or rather as you died, Walter arrived. She went after him, but Millennium had altered him enough that she couldn't win. Heinkel tried to kill him later, I believe, but she failed. As far as I'm aware, he injured her badly, but the Vatican took care of that.
[ he's not going to go into detail. it was a fucking slaughter. he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. ]
I thought you were better off not knowing that part.
[ which is--oddly kind, for him, all things considered. ]
I told you he was the worst.
[ he's not making a joke, or anything, or making light of it, perhaps surprisingly: while he has and had no emotional attachment to anderson's children or pupils, his distaste for walter is just that deep.
but he's also pointedly putting the blame on walter, not on anderson, like the shades had done. ]
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He'd spent the last several months trying not to acknowledge all that was lost in London. But it's weighing on him, now, impossible to ignore.]
You were right. But I appreciate you telling me now, all the same.
[He leans his face into his knees, quiet for a long moment. The shaking steadily subsides. He's warming up.]
God himself will lead you; he will be with you; he will not fail you or desert you. Have no fear, do not be alarmed. [He mumbles, as though trying to reassure himself.] Put your hope in God, be strong, let your heart be bold, put your hope in God. [After another pause, he raises his eyes to Alucard.] I have never asked anything of God, not even mercy. But I feel empty, and alone.
[This all had to come to a head, eventually. He couldn't deny what he'd lost forever.]
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I'll always speak the truth.
[ which puts his oddly avoidant tones when speaking of heinkel and yumiko into sharp relief: he was trying to avoid the elephant in the room. which worked, until now.
at least anderson is warming up. physically, he'll be alright.
mentally though, spiritually, alucard wonders, and when he's finally addressed, he hesitates, because it stings. the familiarity of it burns, because he knows that ache, that pain, and his own method of dealing with it had been a disaster.
when he speaks, his voice is low. ]
You have a choice. Carry on in conviction, with what you've known as your truth for so many years, or make the same mistakes I did to try and run from it. But it never goes away, if you run. It hangs over you, drags its fingers through everything you do in spite for thinking that escaping was the right choice. It's--better, in the end, to press on.
[ look, alucard is still spiteful and hates god, but he's not gonna tell alexander anderson that the whole 'denying his faith because he felt abandoned' thing was a good idea. he knows it's not on the table to begin with, not really, but to see him shaken at all is--difficult, in its own way. ]
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No, I... I won't run. It's not His failings that brought me here- it's mine, and as alone and empty as I feel, I can't blame Him for them. Draining myself dry in His name would mean even less, if I ran now.
[He runs his fingers under his glasses, startling at finding moisture there. It's been a long time since he's cried, really cried, rather than simply becoming misty-eyed, or shedding tears in a moment of profound pleasure. The tears that do come are gentle, absent of any trembling or a tightening throat.
Slipping the glasses off, he catches the tears on a palm.]
I'll press on. I'll find a way to.
[He always does, even under the worst of circumstances.]
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[ he watches him, and it's the first time he's seen him cry like this. and so quietly, at that. he doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't, for a moment. what can he? it's clear anderson blames himself for the deaths of his children, even if other people pulled the proverbial trigger. alucard killed maxwell, but anderson allowed it--
--but maxwell put himself in that position, with his wild plan, with his heresy. that's maxwell's fault, not anderson's. perhaps yumiko's devotion to anderson was his fault, but not her devotion to god, nor her death at walter's hands. ]
You've already found a purpose here, priest, in bringing God to the Godless. In caring for the children in need. You have your calling, even if our hunts here are cut short.
[ he reaches out, one hand pressing to the side of anderson's neck, fingers splayed somewhat. ]
And to think, you've even gotten me to agree to attend.
[ partially at susan's behest, but still, alucard even setting foot in a church is pretty remarkable. ]
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I suppose six hundred years of life have given you some wisdom.
[It wasn't enough that he still had people dependent on him, last time. He'd run. In the opposite direction Alucard had when Alucard had been given the choice of discarding his humanity, but he'd run all the same, sought to turn himself into something that couldn't feel and couldn't hurt. This time, when he says he won't run, he means it: he won't destroy himself, he won't abandon those who need him.
He nods to Alucard's words. Before leaving Duplicity, he'll make sure those who rely on him have what they need. That'll be his reason for going on.
And Alucard- Alucard, too, will be part of that reason.]
That is something of a feat.
[He smiles a little, at that, moving to curl his fingers over the ones splayed across his neck.
There's a little more colour to his face. Some pink around his nose and along his cheekbones, courtesy of the tears. And they still come, but they're slower, now.]
When you were lost, I... [There's a beat of silence while he collects his thoughts.] Wish there had been someone there for you, as you are here for me, right now. But I suppose it'll have to be one of those 'better late than never' situations.
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he huffs a laugh, about it being a feat, and his thumb idles along the line of anderson's jaw, thoughtful. ]
We're still not even sure if I'm going to burn or not, so that much will be an adventure.
[ he pauses, at what the priest says to him, and he searches his face quietly for a long moment. there's an emotion there, one that aches, and he finally looks away. ]
I had no one, at the time. Alienation--is a constant, for me.
[ he looks at him again, and smiles, and cants his head. ]
I would have been content, if there'd been someone like you.
[ it's so similar to what he'd told anderson at the end, isn't it? but anderson hasn't heard that, yet.
still, he means it. ]
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Well, I'm eager to find out, for one.
[It's a light, playful comment. The despondency has eased some, and when Alucard continues, his words make Anderson's throat tighten and his breaths come hitching for an altogether different reason.
He would have gladly been that person. He would have been happy, to be the reason Alucard - Vlad - persisted as a human, perhaps even met peacefully with death. He would have been content, to be such a profound presence in his life.
Maybe he can't give Alucard that now, but, God, he wants to try for something close.
It's thoughtless, when he leans forward and kisses him. Gently, fondly, and perhaps a little wet, but warm, now that the hypothermia has receded.]
We're both estranged from people, at large, but this- it's enough that you haven't turned me away, upon seeing this, and know that I would have been that for you, and that I would be that now. [He speaks against his lips, voice barely audible.] I'm glad it's you.
[And he finds that he's entirely sincere. He can't imagine it being anyone else.]
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[ mildly. look, he burns from anderson's blood, he's probably going to burn in church. but he's lighthearted about it, which is charming, and fine.
and honestly, the thought of anderson being that person has haunted him for decades. how different things would have been, if he'd gladly fallen as a man. ]
You were just born several centuries too late.
[ soft. he returns the kiss, pressing into it in a way that's almost fervent, aching. probably worrying, from an unbiased standpoint, but he's certainly not in a position at the moment to judge himself craving the priest's affection.
it's what he says last that draws a faint, keening sound from him: his hand shifts, pressing to anderson's nape, and he just--clutches at him, emotionally bare. he's not crying, not again, but it's close, and he closes his eyes. ]
I'd be a fool to turn you away. I've made plenty of mistakes, but I won't make that one.
[ he smiles then, a little wry, and adds: ]
Will you take my confession, here in the sand? It's been many centuries. There's much to tell, but I'll spare you the details. [ a sigh, but then: ] I would have long ago tried to raze this entire city to the ground heedless of its occupants without a grounding force.
[ a beat. ]
Though now it seems to be doing it to itself, without my help.
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Is it really Alucard who needs to make a confession?]
The state of affairs are unusual enough that I think I can give the delay a pass.
[He leans his face into Alucard's neck. His mind is a-whirr with thoughts, but he still takes the time to listen.
It's a slow, clawing realisation, what exactly this desperate need signifies, why Alucard's words mean so much to him, why he's enough to soothe the ache of loss and failure, and why he's so discontent with Integra's presence. He wants Alucard in a way he shouldn't, in a way Alucard can't reciprocate. In a way Integra already has already earned, occupying a space Anderson will never have access to. He isn't Alucard's grounding force, in the end.
He presses himself close to Alucard.]
You're going to need to perform a lot of penance for that, I'm afraid. Conveniently, we seem to be in hell, so killing a few of those tomb-dwellers should suffice as a start.
[The weight of everything drops against his shoulders again, but he pushes back, this time, and drags his lips on Alucard's throat. He doesn't want to let go yet. It might be the last time he lets himself do this.]
But we can spare a few moments more, before that. Tell me everything you wish to say. You have my ear.
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alucard's head tilts when anderson tucks into his neck, stretching out his throat compliantly. much like a dog rolling over to show its belly in a sign of trust, he's begun to allow the priest to see all of his softer edges, the parts of him that would be so easy to rip out, metaphorically speaking. ]
How kind of you.
[ a murmur. when anderson presses close his free hand curls around his back, clutching at the fabric of his own coat to urge him still closer. needy and wanting, as usual. ]
Will you aid me, in my penance?
[ his voice is hoarse, almost raw, as he says it. they both know that alucard is not, and will not ever, actually seek forgiveness from god. this is all for anderson, a confession to him directly.
his throat stretches out further with a sigh, fingers losing themselves in anderson's hair. he's distracted, briefly, by the touch of lips, because it's so pleasant, but he does have more to say. ]
You promised to kill me, and I'll hold you to it. But more than that, I need you in between now and then. Aside from the obvious troubles and issues being here, I've--enjoyed living, these past few months, in a way I'm not sure I ever have.
[ a pause. ]
I feel guilt for that, for being content when things are calm, for being happy with the stability we've managed to cultivate. I don't know what to do with myself otherwise, though. I shouldn't be glad you're here with me.
[ but he is. ]
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