alucard emery (anoshe) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-03-18 11:19:00 |
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Let me in, whispered in his mind and wrapped around it in a caress softer than anything he had ever felt from his father. They were memories, horrible twisting things, something made softer, something crueler for its mercies. Rhy lay on the floor across from him. Alucard blinked, and he was dancing with Gabrielle Delacour. In another blink, it wasn’t him, it was - no it wasn’t Tyler, it was Osaron. She spun away, hand in his, and her dress turned to smoky glass, trapping her inside it. Her screams were swallowed, far away, difficult to focus on even as she burned away, her glassy black dress all that remained. No, no, no, Alucard tried to gasp, tried to remember the feeling of moving his body himself again. But it didn’t happen. He was still in the back of his mind, while Rhy lay across the floor of the Night Spire across from him, promising to stay, promising to stay. Alucard was trapped in his mind, still, but his body wasn’t. It ripped Rhy’s heart out, and his head tilted as the ribs reformed and reconnected, as the heart returned to Rhy’s body. Relief flooded him, along with the panic. But Kell came. As Kell always came for Rhy. When Alucard ripped his heart out, it didn’t grow back. The screams reverberated in his skull, trapped with him. Trapped as Anisa burned to nothing. Trapped as it happened all over again (a memory? Or another loop through the same nightmare?). Alucard didn’t know. Each time, he had let someone - something - in once, and it came again. It came each time, until Alucard gasped awake, his scream still stuck in his throat. Alucard shoved the bed beneath him away, pushed himself away from his lover until he fell to the floor. The floor where Osaron had tried to get into his skull, where he had, where he had… Alucard tried to separate the memories from the dream. But the nightmare felt more real. And he stared at the silver veins, willing himself to believe in them. — Being woken by nightmares was nothing new to Rhy, and he had come to understand that it was commonplace for Alucard as well. It was rarer, in fact, that neither of them should have any nightmares - Rhy was not sure it had actually happened, although there had been a few nights when he didn’t wake, when Alucard didn’t wake him. That didn’t mean Alucard hadn’t been wakened by his dreams, though, only that he had done it quietly enough not to disturb Rhy. On this particular night, after a relatively pleasant evening of dancing - only the odd moment when Alucard had volunteered to be possessed by a ghost in order to let the ghost dance with his lover had ever so slightly taken away from it - Rhy had fallen asleep in a good mood. His subconscious was, as ever, a dark and tangled place, but no particular images invaded his mind, at least none that he would remember when he woke. And he was woken violently, by the sudden movement of Alucard pushing away from him and the sound of Alucard’s body falling to the floor. Adrenaline and fear flooded through Rhy’s veins, and he pushed himself out of the bed after his lover, still half-tangled in the sheets, which trailed after him. He ended up on his knees next to Alucard, his hands on Alucard’s upper arms. “What is it?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?” — He breathed in and out. Not as slowly as he was trying for, but Alucard continued breathing. He felt each breath in and out, a conscious choice that grounded him before anything else. Alucard blinked too, purposefully, as though with each repetition, each time the world disappeared behind his lids, it could return not his. But it stayed. Another grounding truth. Rhy appeared suddenly before him, the surprise of not having noticed him earlier making it feel more like a dream. You cannot kill him, Alucard thought slowly, with intention. His mind reminded him of how closely Kell slept to them. But he refused to stand, refused to leave the room. Alucard would sooner die than kill Kell. He looked up, at Rhy’s concerned face, life written into its expression. He shook his head, the image of Rhy’s lifeless body a memory, not his imagination. “Nightmare,” Alucard said first. It was obvious, clear really. But it was easier to start on more solid ground, on the familiar, rather than the new horrific aspects to it. “Dreamt he got in,” Alucard said simply. His mind had seen how poorly that would have gone, how they would have all been doomed. It would have been over so quick. — It had been Rhy’s guess, but he had been worried that it was something worse, so he was relieved to find that it wasn’t. Not that a nightmare couldn’t be bad enough, but Alucard’s health could have actually been in danger, and Rhy desperately didn’t want to spend another night praying for him not to die. He let out a breath, let some of the fear slip out of him, leaving him in the shivery aftermath, which only felt slightly better. He took hold of Alucard’s hands, his fingers going to the silver lines on his lover’s skin, where Alucard’s willpower and magic had burned the blackness from his body. “He didn’t,” he reminded Alucard, “You were too strong for him.” — His eyes followed Rhy’s fingers, staring at the silver that traced over his whole body. Small goosebumps trailed Rhy’s touch, the air cooler for the momentary warmth he had brought. He also looked at the blue swirls that surrounded him, the color of his magic. That magic still his. Alucard did not feel strong, did not know if he could have faced the same trial a second time and walked away again. It had never been asked of him. “He pried open my mind,” Alucard said, “he could see all my memories, the best and the worst. But Osaron did not understand them. He didn’t understand me.” He had pursued avenues to gain entry, able to grasp what had been his worst memories but not what had made them the worst. It was not mercy, it was not anything from his father, that Alucard had longed for. Would he have been strong enough if Osaron had truly understood his weaknesses? Alcuard didn’t know. He wanted to believe it would not have worked. He had already had a plan. He had already gone after what he wanted most and was seeing it through. Osaron could not have offered him Rhy. — Alucard had not talked about what it had been like, to be possessed. There hadn’t been any time after the fact, even if Rhy had been in a place to listen. Now they were catching up, and they had started with older wounds, the ones left by Alucard’s family. This was different. “He could never understand you,” he said quietly. “He was just corrupt, hungry magic. Nothing human.” Rhy didn’t actually know if that was strictly true. Was it possible that Osaron had been at one point human? If he ever had been, the humanness in him had been burned away long ago. He closed his hands around one of Alucard’s, holding it warmly. “He lived in darkness, he was darkness, he made more darkness. You’ve experienced darkness, but it was never you, and you were not the creator of it.” — Osaron had puppeted much that was human. He had claimed he could be merciful, and like smoke, like the way his body had changed shape, like the magic he was and everything around him, he had been able to reshape memories, reshape the people within them. He had understood pain, understood who caused it. Alucard could not have called that dark growing tapestry of magic human. But humans were man and magic made one, so while not fully human, Osaron had been part of it. Had been able to use part of it. And he was like Tyler, like a ghost (ghosts were not fully human either), when it came to possession. It took permission, once. In a moment, in an instant. And once someone said yes, once they faltered just for a moment for it, they were his until he gave them up, until he was gone. Because he had never given them up. The closest he came was killing them, whether he burned them through or tossed themselves against the wards. Alucard could not have taken his body back, had Tyler not granted it. Potter could have done things to Gabrielle, to convince Tyler, had he needed pushing. And were that not enough, Kell was still there. No matter what Kell thought of Alucard, he was ruthless for Rhy’s safety and Rhy’s happiness. A side of him Alucard appreciated. There had been safety measures, even when Alucard hadn’t spoken them. It had not been pure sentiment, pure trust. And yet, now that it took another yes for Tyler to get in, Alucard was not sure he could consent again. To be captive in his own mind, even an instant could draw out like an eternity. But Alucard pulled away from those thoughts to Rhy’s assuring words. “I am no innocent babe,” he sighed. His crimes were enough to justify an execution without Rhy’s pardon. But still he did not regret them. “But I am not him, no.” Osaron simply couldn’t stop but continued onward, until he had devoured one world, and he would have done so until he consumed theirs. To be left no better off than before, even if he devoured all of them. One hand found Rhy’s and held it, warm, to his breast. “I am so glad you’re alive,” he exhaled, quietly. Even now, he didn’t know how to consider any possibility without Rhy alive. Not with him? Choosing the crown, choosing something else before him? Alucard had imagined that plenty of times. But always, alive. — Rhy could not help but smile. “Not innocent, no,” he said. “But you have a good heart.” He knew that firsthand, having been on the receiving end of the warmth of Alucard’s love. He was nothing like his father or brother, and even they were more human than Osaron. Neither Alucard’s family nor the oshoc could understand that kind of incorruptible goodness, but Rhy loved Alucard for it. He pressed his hand against Alucard’s chest, feeling the heart beating rapidly under his skin. His own heart skipped, but then twisted a little at the words. Sometimes he was glad to be alive, too, selfishly, especially in the warm, tender moments with Alucard. But most of the time his life still felt like a burden, a heavy weight, one that he would relieve his brother of if he could. He couldn’t, of course; only by ending Kell’s life would their bond be removed, and Rhy would never consider such a thing. But if he’d been offered the choice to do it without harming Kell, he couldn’t honestly say he would turn it down. He dragged in a slightly labored breath, and then answered as honestly as he knew how without entirely ruining the sentiment. “You make me feel glad to be alive, too.” — His other hand reached out, lightly resting against Rhy’s neck, where he felt the warm skin, the pulse beating below it. That pulse reassured him, steady and even. Rhy could survive the worst injuries, unimaginable pain. But Alucard did not want him to, did not want him to have to. Not more than he had. It had made agreeing to guard Rhy that much easier, that much more than simply being together the two of them. Against worldly threats, Alucard trusted himself, trusted himself to protect Rhy. Some darkness had already touched Rhy, pain physical and emotional, the grief of losing loving parents. Alucard could not prevent those nightmares they brought any more than Rhy could his. But they were there for each other. When they felt each other and when they had not. Alucard remembered Rhy being with him, in a distant way, and he knew the truth of it more. He understood being there, when they did not know the other did it. He had done the same for Rhy. The phrasing sounded odd, but Alucard’s mind was far too weary to parse it out then. He could only be glad Rhy was with him, his company on the floor, again, more to him than anything his mind could do for itself. ‘’When I woke, I would imagine seeing you,” Alucard smiled, his eyes not fully open but looking at Rhy’s face, the soft warmth of his cheeks, of his eyes. “Now here you are.” Each night on this boat. It was a flutter in his heart each time he woke. — Quietly, Rhy was deeply grateful that Alucard did not press the subject. Especially since it genuinely seemed to give him great comfort to relish Rhy being alive, to feel his pulse. Rhy’s heartbeat felt a little hollow, but Alucard was not the one connected to him, not the one who would be able to feel it. He didn’t know if Kell would be awake to feel it either. He hoped not. He tried to push the feeling aside, to go back to the warmth he’d felt for Alucard only moments before, but it wasn’t an easy thing. The wrongness inside him was in his heartbeat and his every breath. It didn’t go away, it was only something he’d learned to tune out whenever he wasn’t paying attention to it. But he was glad that the people who loved him, like Alucard, did not have to mourn him. He could have died - had died, technically - without knowing that Alucard loved him. His heart ached, and he closed his eyes for a moment, leaned his head into Alucard’s touch. “Come back to bed,” he murmured quietly. “I’ll be here, whether you sleep again or not.” — The captain, formerly, leaned into the touch as gently. His body barely moved, but after another moment, he relaxed more fully into it. Alucard had pulled himself away from Rhy because he had not trusted himself, had not yet been able to distinguish the nightmare, which explored too many ways that should have been enough to kill Rhy, from the man sleeping beside him. He had wanted Rhy safe, and Rhy was still safe, still as fine as he had been since Alucard returned. Briefly, he brushed his lips against Rhy’s, a moment only. Then he forced himself to stand - Alucard had his faculties, had control over himself. He brought them back to bed, slowly, despite sleep feeling as far away as it did at noon. The bed still hugged some of their previous warmth, and Alucard held Rhy close, leaning on him and pulling his lover against him. “I love you,” he spoke lazily to the night air. — The kiss momentarily distracted Rhy from the morbid turn his thoughts had taken. The way it warmed him served to push back the darkness a little, and that was what he had meant about Alucard making him feel better about being alive. Everything about being in love, being loved, counteracted the emptiness and wrongness inside him. It was only a brief respite, but it was something, and Rhy wanted to cling to it with both hands. He would have wanted to keep Alucard almost as desperately anyway, after everything they’d been through, but it was doubled, tripled, by the fact that he now felt most alive, most himself, in Alucard’s arms. And indeed, he felt much better when they were back in bed and those arms were around him. He burrowed in close, tucking his face into Alucard’s neck. “I love you too,” he murmured back, and it was no half-truth this time. His love for Alucard had once seemed childish and silly, but it only deepened and strengthened the more that they grew back together. It was so much more than he ever could have imagined at seventeen. |