sleepytimejunction | ❧ open rp

[At the first little sound of a hiss of pain, Sypha thinks she is imagining something, and continues darning a sock as she walks. At the second one, she holds still, listening intently--and when it's followed by sounds of motion from the same direction, she parks her needle, pockets the sock, and goes to check it out.]

[She has to leave the path, but is not much troubled by such--and it doesn't take her long to notice a strange man in a heap, his fancy white-and-black clothes and loose golden hair standing out, incongruous in such an outdoors context.]

Sir? Are you h-- [Sypha cuts herself off when she sees the pile of bloody blades.] ...Wow. Nevermind, you're hurt. [Fortunately, she can do something about it, and kneels next to him.]

[Warily, Alucard glances up, tensing as he expects to be attacked again -- but no. He already knows what this woman is, and he watches her carefully when she kneels nearby, just as a wary animal might react to receiving a stranger's kindness.

But he has little to fear from a Speaker. There would be no ill intent.]

I will manage it.

However, I cannot reach the one back here. It cannot be pulled, it must be pushed through.

If you could...?

["I'll manage it"? He's gotten on the bad side of an entire armory, but he'll "manage it"?]

Like hell you will, [Sypha mutters, pulling off her gloves to better link magic with intent--but she hesitates when the stranger describes what he wants her to do.]

To make the wound so large--we can't do it here, out in the woods, you'd probably bleed to death. [It's a strange request--and it's gotten her to give a second look to the pile of blades, staring hard at the way the clean parts gleam and shine.]

[She doesn't know. Which is a fair thing; he keeps his head down slightly, hiding his fangs, and no vampire can endure the sunlight. Perhaps it is better this way, but if he can manage to get the last stake out...]

Rest assured, this is not how I die, Speaker.

You will not kill me.

[He probably can't see it at this angle, but she rolls her eyes. Grandiose talk from a richly-dressed man wounded in the dirt. Though--if he's not dead yet from all those cuts, then perhaps he has a point.]

If you say so. [She pushes those fine and finely-ruined clothes on his back away from the wound, brushes his hair clear, to get a good look at it--and winces. It looks horrendously painful, made by something--most of it she can't see, bloodied and embedded in him as it is, but it looks like a fancy, expensive instrument of torture. Did he get on the wrong side of the church...?] Might want to bite your sleeve, [Sypha cautions, with the heel of one palm braced on the base of the weapon, steadied by her other hand. She waits a second, draws in a deep breath, then pushes straight through, with a surprising amount of force from someone so small.]

I don't see how--

[Oh. Maybe she had a good point. He is admittedly startled at her strength, but the barbed stake does shove its way out the other side of his shoulder. A choked gasp, but Alucard is able to stifle any other noise beyond that, even as hot blood rolls down his back and chest. It'll heal, eventually, even if it is slowed right now.

Once it's made enough progress out the front, Alucard braces himself and rips it out the rest of the way with a shudder, tossing the stake aside as it burns his hand. Sleep or blood or both would be very, very helpful right now, and he looks over the Speaker.

No. He can't chance distrust, not right now.]

Your help has been appreciated. [With a wince, he gets to his feet, clutching his shoulder. He needs to leave; he's too hungry.]

[He didn’t even scream. Sypha can’t even call her respect for his toughness grudging anymore, especially when he finishes pulling the weapon out for her. It might even turn to admiration—she offers him an encouraging smile when he looks her properly in the face—except then...]

Wh— [Sypha actually splutters as he starts trying to walk away.] What are you doing?! Sit back down, I’m not—You need to be bandaged at the very least! [She sounds as much indignant as surprised at this idiot. If she had her druthers, she’d not just bandage him but lash him to a bed if that was what was needed to enforce rest while healing and herbs did their work. Honestly, did he know nothing about how one treats injury and the risk of infection? Or what was out in the woods and wilds these days? The hordes of monsters who’d smell his blood from miles away?]

[What an idiot!]

Edited 2019-02-20 16:05 (UTC)

[The utter demands from this woman makes him stop and look at her like she's grown two heads. However, he finds he really can't tell her no, or properly explain himself. After all, what could he say? That he was going to wander off and find a rabbit to sink his fangs into?

Now that would not be well received.]

I-- yes. I suppose so. [Alucard mutters the words, reluctantly sitting back down.]

Well--! [She... actually hadn't been quite expecting him to put up so little a fight (when he had clearly put up so much resistance to others probably much better-armed than she) but isn't going to squander it.] ...Good. Now let me see your shoulder...

[The huge wound left by that torture implement is her primary concern--but strangely, it doesn't seem to bleed how she would expect. Hmm...] I can't clean it here, but-- [Sypha is unrolling a bandage from the same pocket the rest of her cloth repair supplies are stashed in--it may or may not be fully adequate for the job; he's a big man, not bulky but broad-framed.] I can keep it from getting dirtier... slow the loss of blood... [She's murmuring half to herself by this point, trying to decide if it's safe to bring him to the caravan. After all, sharing a common enemy in the church doesn't necessarily make this stranger a friend of the Speakers--but then, as direly wounded as he is, even if he is their enemy...]

[It's tempting to tell her to not waste her supplies on him. He will live, he will recover, and he will manage, but -- then again, he couldn't say any of them to convince her easily without admission of his nature.

So he stays still, hesitant.]

I know the Speakers are often quite helpful, but I still appreciate it nonetheless.

I'm more than glad to help. [Well, that at least sounded like someone who isn't just suffering her unholy speaker touch to save his own hide. Hmm...]

You've gotten on the bad side of the church, it seems. [As topics of conversation go... sure, it was morbid, but then, what wasn't these days? And if his answer enlightened her as to his safety around the caravan--or what on earth his attackers saw fit to use on him--so much the better. As Sypha continued to wrap that wound, she cast an uneasy glance at the thing she'd pushed through and out of him; it was ornate and caked in gore, but even so... something was terribly familiar about it, and she couldn't quite figure out what it was, and it was driving her up the wall. Something about it seemed important...]

[The mention of the church makes him stiffen slightly, but he can't hide that. She could not know it, but when he woke there were indeed many men waiting for him.

You look so much like the witch the Bishop had remarked before their silver blades and stakes attempted to kill him.]

Something like that. [His voice is soft.] Gresit is not precisely welcoming. I would advise you and your caravan avoid it.

[Well, he at least has nothing to fear from her—and seems like he will pose no threat to the caravan. Perhaps she will be able to drag him back there for as long as it takes to get him properly rested, cleaned, and treated.]

Thanks for the tip, but we won’t be avoiding it. [Sypha is genuinely grateful for the advice, but is just as genuinely sincere about going there.] There’s someone there we must see.

It's hardly worth the trouble, rest assured. The Church is far from friendly, and will be eager to throw the blame of their self-inflicted woes onto someone else.

Whoever you aim to meet is not worth it. Find somewhere else.

There’s nowhere else.

[She doesn’t explain more. As safe as he seems, and as earnestly as he cares for her caravan’s safety, some things need to stay secret, for the sake of all, and the prophetic details are one of them.]

[That seems a bit concerning, but ultimately it isn't his concern. If she sees fit to go to Gresit, he cannot stop her.]

As you say, then. I will stay out of your way, but know it is a dangerous place to be, Speaker. Not just the Church, but the horde.

❧ open rp - adrian/alucard

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Adrian u r a silly boy

no subject

no subject

no subject

i apologize for my Few Icons

it's ok i spend too much money on this idiot

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject