middaeg | Vita agitas maledictus

Entry tags:

Vita agitas maledictus

Who: Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower (

whomthebelltolls) and various! (Check prompt headers for openness of prompts)
When: Aureur, particularly around the event!
Where: Aefenglom, and the Dreamscape
What: Memshare stuff, mostly, but can be used as a catch-all for quests and the like.
Warnings: Oh boy Blood, gore, excessive violence, murder, human experimentation, body horror, cannibalism, addictive substance use and abuse, genocide, suicide (both ideation and comitting), self-harm, PTSD, religious institutions grooming people to use their blood and bodies for shady purposes, also probably some mentions of human trafficking, sexual assault/abuse in other peoples' backstories or memories. And the kitchen sink.

[1: SEMI-OPEN Memshare prompt - For people that had plans]

[What a curious little dream. The Hall of Mirrors, but some of them are indistinguishable - even if she knows, in reality, that many of the ones she's staring at bear some kind of decor upon them, especially her own - and yet here they stand.

She hears footsteps behind her, and cants her head briefly in the direction they come from. A familiar face, then, as she continues to investigate the mirror.] I wonder what it means this time? [And she pushes her hand against the surface of the mirror, immediately withdrawing it after as the surface ripples as it starts to suck her hand into it, like she's just put her hand into a pool of quicksilver.

She shakes her hand a bit, looking at it - no, it's... fine, then turns to her companion as though she's not quite sure she's seeing things properly.

It doesn't matter whose mirror it is - whether her own, or another - because the curiosity takes her and she motions toward it like she wonders if they should try... stepping through the surface. Maybe this is their chance to get home? After all, they fell out of the mirrors, maybe going back in them is the way back home?

It doesn't matter if it's her mirror or theirs, she is sort of curious, and wants to investigate. What in the world is the dream doing this time?]

[2: OPEN - In the dream]

[Clang. Maria's Rakuyo separates into its two sides as she pulls it apart, and sets up before her mirror. Those that know her well will probably note that, unlike before, the whole thing is coated in a fine layer of blood... and it's leaking yet even more. Still, she stands, her back to the mirror, her front to whoever wants to approach.

Her face is drawn into a dark scowl, and her ice-blue eyes rake over the other inhabitants of this dream with a deadly intensity. Too many people, too much curiosity - and none are permitted anywhere near her mirror any longer. The first person that approaches she appraises only briefly, before stepping forward as though to attack. And she will, if they take even another pace toward her.] Stand down. There is nothing for you in this mirror.

[3: OPEN - The Morning After, around Aefenglom]

[Maria awakens to tears on her face, and an awful, empty ache in her chest. In a daze, she stands, ad goes about her morning routine, mind still trying to parse all she had seen. All that had been seen. It's not until she sees herself in a mirror - a regular dressing mirror near the wardrobe in her room - that she finally stops to look at herself, even if it brings up memories anew.

Maria raises a single hand to the fresh tears that spill down her face, gently catching one on the back of a finger. She holds it up, looks at it, marvels a bit at the idea. It has been... so very long since she's wept, and yet, the tears continue to flow, seemingly without end. The Fishing Hamlet - she's not seen it with such terrible clarity in so long. Not heard the voices that curse and scream at her with such acuity since...

... Since before she claimed her own life.

She wipes at her eyes, notes they're red-rimmed and sunken in her reflection. She hasn't slept well. She supposes she won't sleep very well again for a long, long time, then turns back at a thought. A single, stray thought that brings her eyes to rest upon the Rakuyo and Evelyn that even now seem to sleep comfortably in their places beside her bed.

It would be so simple... she steps forward, and before she knows it, she has the sword in her hands, and is raising it up. The bite of cold, sharp metal against the side of her neck is as familiar as it is dreadful; she vaguely remembers how it felt when it severed through the muscle and tendons, what it felt like when the blood rushed out and her mind went woozy and darkness closed in rapidly at the corners of her vision. She doesn't move her hands, though.

What would be the point? She'd just wake up again. And again. Her curse is to live with what she had done, perhaps forever. She wonders if this is how Annalise feels, fated to never find rest, no matter how the journey of life wears on. It's fitting, the greatest among the Vilebloods would end up having to share that same, sorry fate.

The sword drops with a clatter, Maria turns back, unsure when she even got dressed, but knowing she needs to leave. Her bed suddenly has too many poor memories associated with it - a pity, considering how recently some good ones were made there - and she hits the town.

Right to a tavern.

Right to the alcohol.

She surrounds herself with several bottles, and she drinks. It's gotten harder and harder to lose her mind into the sway of the alcohol since her blood started to burn with a fire so similar and yet so not to the burn of the Vileblood corruption. Yet, still she tries.

Bottle in one hand, the other covering her eyes, she drinks, and that's how she'll be found the entire rest of the day, in a sorry state, trying so hard to forget.]

[4: Wildcard!]

[For all your Not-Memshare Needs! Maria is doing Pile's Plantagorium, Hold Birb Gently, and Dorchacht Devil for quests.

Anyone who wants to get in on the first prompt there, you can message me through PM, at Reslari at Reslari#9561 on Discord, or hit up my plotting post. You can also plot with me for anything else!]

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[The whole experience of the damned house of mirrors and the absolute and abject violation of privacy involved has left Alucard a restless, brittle thing. It is bad enough that Hector has witnessed the immediate aftermath of Dracula's death. In fact, that's the thing that keeps churning in Alucard's mind, because of all the people to walk into the mirror and of all the things to witness, it would have to be that. Of course.

He woke early. Made breakfast for the other two and left a note that explained a need for air and alone time. It ended with an apology for being this mercurial, as well as a promise that he'd make dinner that night. Force normalacy. Moreover, it was something for him to think on as he walked. Better than what his mind might fixate on otherwise.

Alucard is sure that he's walked the circumfernce of the city by the late afternoon. He's figured out a week's worth of dinners. He's determinedly not addressed the matter of Hector at all. He's probably worn a hole through his boots, and that means he needs to sit.

It doesn't matter where, although Alucard thinks that some of the place is familiar. He-- yes. After the trial and execution he was here, wasn't he? It's not a good thing to have, a go to place reserved exclusively for disasters, and yet here he is.

And here Maria is. His eyes catch sight of her before Alucard can do much else, and he knows that shitty posture. That's Trevor posture and a sign of worse things still.

Fuck it.

Alucard walks over. Sits himself across from her, but says nothing else. If he's to be gone, she'll make it clear. Otherwise, he'll just be a presence.]

[ He's seen that kind of behavior more than once. Tragically more than dozen times. While Maria isn't particularly hard to miss, this particular day was different. She had an all to familiar air around her as she walked in and dived straight into the alcohol and everyone around the tavern was unsure of what to do.

He heard the barkeep whispering with some other customers but he paid them no mind. He had a guess why she was behaving like that, but it'd probably be best to hear it from the mouth of the lady herself. He walked over and sat with Maria, not quite next to her but close enough to make his presence known.

He didn't say anything or touch her alcohol just sat there sipping at his tankard waiting for her to acknowledge he's there and, if she should tell him what's eating her, he'll listen.]

[She's perfectly fine being here, in this particular tavern. There's a more positive association here than, say, the Sly Seadog. After all, that place smells like the ocean, and Alex works there, and those are two things she just absolutely does not want to address right now.

So, she'd rather sit in a more hole-in-the-wall location, tuck herself into the safety of a dark, defensible corner, and drink until her feelings stop working. Which, the last step is proving to be more tricky than the others.

There's a shuddering sense of dread as she hears the rustle of cloth and the thud of a human-sized weight come down in the seat across from her. She doesn't want to deal with people, she doesn't want to face anyone she met in that awful dream, but... she can't ignore them forever. At least she can try to figure out who is in front of her and how to address - or not address - that.

... It's... not who she's expecting. She peers at him through slots between her fingers for a moment before slowly, hazily, her muscles sluggish, she raises her head and puts her hand down. The mostly empty bottle in one hand slides across the table a little as she sits up properly.

There's a glazed look in her eyes, but once she fixates it on him, it abates for a moment. He wasn't there, last night. He wasn't in that hellscape of mirrors and awful memories. Not in hers at least, and that makes him, to the animal part of her brain that's been buzzing, more safe than an alternative.] Get a drink.

[That's all she says, a slur in her speech thickening her accent until her tongue all but trips over the r.]

Edited 2020-04-14 17:12 (UTC)

In a bit.

[Better than the automatic response of no, one of us needs to be sober. Even if that's the truth and the thing he'll insist upon doing for however long this goes on for.

Alucard's seen some of Trevor's bad drinking impulses, although much of that was back in Wallachia. A pathetic thing that was once some kind of scion of a glorious warrior dynasty, broken by years of hard living and if Alucard was to ever truly venture it, a death wish.

But that isn't what he's seeing here. This thing? It's uglier, it's what Trevor's thing probably started out like. Messy and reactionary and drowning in a sea of, well. He isn't going to prod at a sea of what. Negative emotions are negative emotions right now, there's no value in clarification.]

I'm not going to ask about specifics. Last night violated many people's privacy. [To say the absolute least.] I'm here as solidarity. Nothing more.

[Personal space she wants to growl out, even if he's not particularly close to her. In truth, everyone in this bar is too close to her personal space for her liking. But if she's alone... well, she saw what she almost did when she was alone. It would be too tempting.

... She's fairly certain at this point she's not here to have some chance at redemption. She's sure, in her drunken haze, that she's just here to be tormented more. The moons must be spiteful bitch-goddesses indeed; as bad or worse than Kos.

Eventually, she peeks up, turning enough to stare at him as he sits. She wants to ask what he thinks he's doing. She wants to ask what the point is in sitting with her - can he not see she'd rather brood alone in silence? Instead, she settles on...]

Bad night. Worse morning.

[That's it. That's her whole explanation.]

Good. I wouldn't tell you anyway. Secrets and nightmares will only get you so far. [She bites out with a harsh bitterness, made only slightly comical by how badly she's slurring her words. Perhaps it is pathetic, how someone so generally noble and with such dignity now seems to be little more than a drunken mess hiding in the shady recesses of a dive bar, but right now, she doesn't care.

She just wants her emotions to go away, for the memories to fade again, for the pain to stop. She moves her elbow and one of the empty bottles clatters into the others and rolls nearly off the table. Maria exclaims a soft word that sounds a bit like souložit as she clumsily reaches to catch the bottle before it shatters upon the ground, but her motor functions are in a bad way. Eventually, she just gives up; whether or not he catches it, instead.] ... Why would one come to a bar to show solidarity and then not drink?

[Alucard does manage to catch one or two of the falling glasses, but only just so. He flinches when the others shatter, and God. At least the wait staff's reaction seems to be not to sweep, but to have someone utter a few words and get the bottle reassembled instead. Handy.

The response to Maria's question gets a soft, tired noise out of Alucard along with an explanation.]

Because I walked the circumference of the city today, and realized only after I sat that alcohol on top of the soreness would be a terrible plan.

[Well, the joys of magic. If she were more coherent, she... might have thought of that herself. As it is, she just watches the minor witch work their magic, and the way they shake their head.

... To which she just glares at them until they mind their business elsewhere. No, she doesn't want to address it, and she's paying their salaries for the day right now with all this alcohol, so leave her alone.

Either way, she returns back to just... barely be able to parse what Alucard has said to her. It ruminates in her mind for a moment, and it's clear she's putting the thought process together to figure out what to say in turn.] Or it'll numb it.

... Maybe...

[Pause. Long sigh.] ... Unless you bleed fire as I do. Then there's... a limit. A terrible fucking limit.

[Until now, Kaede had been avoiding the mirrors. She'd heard of people vanishing back through them just like they arrived, and home...home wasn't a place she wanted to return to. It wasn't even home anymore, and the mere implication she could return there at any moment loomed over her head like a sword about to drop. Easy to ignore sometimes, dreadfully obvious others—like now.

Her visits to the Hall of Mirrors had always been brief things, searches for those gone missing—searches that never turned up anything. She shouldn't bother with this place, and yet—here it was, thrown right in her face.

The Chimera both was and wasn't expecting to find Maria here. This was another of those shared dreams, that was clear. But this seemed an odd place to find Maria. Or, maybe...the mirror was hers? Was her presence the one making it distinct from the others?

The Monster shifted her weight from foot to foot, the end of her tail curling on itself.]

...are you sure?

[Kaede and paranoid wariness practically shared the same definition, but this was cautious even for her.

She didn't want to go back.]

This dream... I think it wants to show us something. Perhaps of home? Still... if we're going anywhere... [She motions at the mirror, the way it oozes blood from some crack or so in one of the corners. The lumenflowers that adorn it; the etching of the Cainhurst Sigil in one corner, half-hidden under a facsimile of Maria's hat.]

It will be to Yharnam. And if any of these Mirrorbound could survive that place, especially in a dream, I believe you may be among the few.

[Her worry is whether or not these dream realms - or all dream realms - were connected. If they were... they might just end up in actual Yharnam as it exists, a dream of things from darker, more tentacle-ridden places than people.]

At this point, I'm not quite sure what I bleed.

[Not a lie. Alucard has never been sure if his blood carried the same transformative properties of other vampires, nor had he ever bothered to test the matter out. Moreover, he wasn't sure if being here meant that any power in the blood was rendered null and void.

A thing to ponder at another time. Alucard takes another look at the state of Maria, considers, and makes a simple enough decision.]

I'm going to get a pitcher of water. Can I assume you won't be getting up?

I've a bottle and some to finish. I'll be staying right here at least until they're gone.

[Her reply is clipped, despite the mess she'd made with the glasses recently. Water probably isn't a bad idea - she will have a monster hangover tomorrow anyway. She should probably look into an alchemist's shop for painkillers and remedies... but at the moment, that's a problem for Future Maria to address.

As soon as he's gone, she takes a pull of the bottle. Then another. When he returns, she's reaching for the fresh bottle, and has her previous one empty.] Yanno, y'could always ask the vampires here. They told me my blood's not corrupted anymore. Just tastes like a Witch's. Then with all this fire magic, it started to burn again, but not like it did before....

[She flops her head over onto her hand, again, but this time, she's cradling her jaw in her palm, rather than covering her eyes. It hunches her spine into what looks like a probably painful position, but that doesn't matter. She's too drunk to feel it.]

[Alucard returns with water and two glasses, well aware that this is going to be a long mid-afternoon to evening. But it is nice to be focused on someone who isn't himself or his immediate circle. If anything this--well. It's an interesting reminder that his circle is very small indeed.

Once seated, Alucard's careful to make sure the first glass he pours is put in Maria's reach. Easy enough to manage, but if she'll pick it up is another question entirely.

But, lead by example. Alucard takes a long sip out of his own cup, realizing only then that all his stress walking has left him not only thirsty, but in need of food.

One thing at a damn time.]

Perhaps I'll ask them later. [Trevor would be able to answer the question without needing any particular explanation, such as it is.] It should be more of a priority than I'm treating it though, I suppose.

[He finishes the rest of the glass. A polite enough way to avoid any judgmental stares about the position Maria has contorted herself into.]

Will you be able to find lodging tonight?

[Her overly-focused contemplation on the alcohol in her hand is interrupted by Alucard sitting across from her, again, and she raises her head to look. Surely enough, he has water.

She ponders taking some, and she sits upright enough to reach out and at least pull the glass closer to herself, even if she doesn't raise it to her lips just yet.

Because he asks about finding lodging and she frowns at the thought. Before the previous night, she would've scoffed about such a question - her bed is just fine, thank you, and all the better for the lover she's taken to it of late - but now... just thinking about it reminds her of a grave (her grave, though she never did know where it was placed), and the lover now one of those she's avoiding after everything.

One little thing has changed so much, in so little time.

Sigh.] I'll figure it out. Worse comes to worse I can sleep on one of our couches at the house. 'S a big mansion. There are rooms. I do know I'll be here for a while yet. Probably until they kick me out or the bar runs dry. Whatever's first.

Please don't take drinking the bar dry as a challenge. [He sighs it, like this is a normal conversation and there's been a bad joke made. Alucard knows it's a reveal of how dire things are on the inside though, he isn't that much an idiot.

But so long as Maria makes it home. Whenever that may come to pass, which means that there's a part of the dhampir that will want to stay as well. A part that's likely to win out.

Alucard will text the other two later. For now he reaches back for the pitcher and refills his glass, condensation clinging to his finger tips.]

[Maria looks up at him, cocking an eyebrow... and then huffs a derisive laugh.] Less a challenge, and more an ideal.

[She couldn't draw her blade across her throat earlier, maybe she'll just try to die from alcohol poisoning.

Finally, though, she seems to see some sense, and raises the glass of water for a few sips, putting the bottle down and to the side rather than clinging to it like it's some sort of lifeline in this place - and it is, in a way. The only thing a buffer between her and everything else she doesn't want to deal with. She can't deal with.

That she's died from her inability to handle before.] And what of you? Surely you've better things to do than sit and watch an old hunter drink herself into oblivion. Unless this passes for entertainment for you.

The point remains.

[There's the notion of alcohol poisoning in Alucard's mind, but he doesn't give voice to it yet. Instead his eyes remain just politely beyond Maria, so that there can be no accusations of judgmental stares. Not even when a moment of sense prevails and a first (and likely futile) step to alleviate the hang over tomorrow prevails.]

No, but that was my life before I got here.

[The words are a little too straight forward. Especially as he presses on.] At least this iteration is with one whose presence I have liked from the get go.

[She snorts, puts the water down, and returns to the alcohol. Baby steps, but at least she's not drinking the booze with as many long draughts as before. Maybe she'll actually get out of this without pissing herself, or something equally as pathetic.

She's drunk enough that a lot of the implication does sail gleefully right over her head, but she can address the words as bluntly as they're said to her. Without much of her usual evasiveness and tact, even.] Gonna ruin your impression of me, then. Y'should... get out while you can. Nothing good comes of being close to me.

Mm, let's not go down that road. That's the inevitable path of playing who's done worse things and there's no winners in such a situation.

[And also probably the heart of the problem at the moment, which Alucard did promise not to prod at. He sighs, long and careful fingers reaching over to the pitcher and beginning to draw on the condensation.

Abstract, unrefined patterns emerge. Nothing fancy. Just a way to make some of this feel a few inches less awful.]

Your funeral. [She's willing to accept that answer, although perhaps not as willing to simply let go that, yes, hey, she has done some fairly awful things. She's not sure what he may have done, but she'd be willing to put money on it not being bad enough for an Elder God to curse him and every single person considered his "children" to a lifetime - and afterlife - of misery and madness and suffering. Even if the initial crime may well have rivaled her own.

He traces patterns, and she drinks. Sip after sip, interspersed rarely with water, until the bottle is nearly done. The staff at the bar seem to have relaxed since she's not knocking down any more bottles or glasses. When she's nearly done with the bottle, though, she doesn't call for another.] ... You're not going to stay here all night, are you?

[There's no witty remark to the funeral comment, because well. Alucard and gallows humor have rarely gotten on, and they're on far worse terms these days.

A few points in the silence, Alucard makes a point of reaching over and refilling Maria's partially consumed water glass. It doesn't work all the time, but it's still an attempt, and--

--and there's no need for yet another bottle. Alucard won't call that victory, but he'll consider it a relief.]

I haven't decided yet. My feet seem keen on the idea though.

[Perhaps the saddest part is that she isn't, actually, joking. Surely, it's a flippant response, but it's not as though everyone - anyone - she knows survived. And even many people who she did not know, all the way down to Hunters so far removed from her and the original sin that they could never have known it even existed were yet cursed.

That he's willing to stay here is a bit odd. Some part of her wonders, through the drunken haze, if the reason he's doing it is to stay close to her.

Clearly that means she hasn't had enough yet. The rest of the bottle goes down one final guzzle, and she smacks it on the table with a loud crack that, luckily, does not shatter the container.] Is it just your feet? Or are you after something, here? I'll not be speaking about last night, if that's what you're curious about.

I already said I wouldn't ask. I intend to honor that statement.

[The shift in tone is a concern though. Enough that Alucard knows that no matter what answer he offers, it will be met with anger and hostility.

Honesty is a terrible idea. I'm concerned you won't make it home. Any excuse will be seen through. So Alucard sighs, eyes on that bottle's crack.]

If you'd like for me to depart, I will.

[There's very little in this place worse than Maria's inability to get as truly black-out drunk as she wants to be, and that's how quickly she metabolizes the alcohol - how the fire in her blood just burns it right up like some kind of transient fuel source.

... Still, she can't hate him for sticking around. So she says nothing to dismiss him, or chase him away. Sitting here staring at each other won't do, either. She reaches for the glass of water, and goes back to setting her chin on her hand - this time, she stretches forward a little more so her shoulders don't hunch as badly.

She doesn't have the energy for an argument, anyway. To explain how she doesn't make friends, and how people shouldn't concern themselves so much with one whose life-value has already been cashed in long ago.] Then speak of something. It's awkward company to sit in silence.

[Alucard considers. There has to be an inoffensive subject. Something that requires no real thought, but will distract and--

--there.

He reaches over for one of the bottles, and he lies it carefully on it's side. Takes his glass out, and sets it as a boundary line of sorts. Using the condensation, he traces a square that uses the bottle as one of it's sides and the glass to measure distance.]

I'm completing a retrofit of a house. There's limited garden space, and I'd like some opinions. This space [he places his hand in the center of the lines he's drawn] Is what's available. West facing. I'm not sure if we should go ornamental or practical.

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Vita agitas maledictus

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