June 20th, 2006
|tsuki_no_knife||10:26 am - The Shadow of a man in the light of a woman's anger.|
Scene: Blood has long since dried on the streets of Los Anime. Consumed by her duties as Bureau Director of Hellsing Organization (Institution) and commander of the Royal Protestant Knights, Integra had long since gone into self imposed exile. Word of a man dressed in red draws her out of her seclusion, secretly hopeful.
Characters: Alucard, Integra, Seras Victoria, Vincent Valentine.
MU**: Animania On Line ()
Number Of Poses: .....Uhm, a lot to count but I will do it soonly.
Series: Hellsing, Final Fantasy 7
Make no mistake; Alucard's expression is almost leeringly hungry, the kind of smile that belongs on a madman simply spoiling for someone to cross the line, get in just a little too close, come in close enough for fingers to grasp and squeeze the life from the first person who thought to push their luck. That his eyes are hidden between the twin full moons of his sunglasses doesn't make his demeanor any easier to swallow, at that. Vincent takes his one step back, but nothing more? Color Alucard a touch ...surprised.
His grin almost begins a reappearance, the tip of his tongue touching to one pronounced canine as he exhales an amused noise, something between a breathed laugh and a hiss in his throat, but now... what's this? Take him -in-?
Consider that smile gone, extinguished, and in its place, Alucard's stoicism is every bit as unsettling. He strides heavily towards Vincent, a growl rising from his throat, "Oh?" Teeth bared as he enunciates, the fingers of his right hand curl at his side, "By ALL MEANS!" His arm crosses his body and then lashes out, moving to strike towards Vincent, intending on simply knocking him right off the upper floor and down to the second.
The blonde head protruding from a canvas tarp wrapping doesn't move. Quietly, Seras Victoria watches and waits. Many have usually avoided this place, but she should have known that people would have noticed her and Gene's absence. Oh, Gene.
Ignore it for now, you'll have time to mourn later when you're not starving and weak. Ball up your grief and loss and hide it deep inside, wait to deal with it when no one is looking. But in the meantime, stay oh-so-quiet like your Master said. She holds her breath as the stranger goes for his gun, attempting to arrest Alucard. Her heart raced with fear at the terrible tremor of her Master's voice... he filled her with fear and awe when he was angry, but he had never yet turned that against her. It was somewhat comforting, as much comfort as you can gain watching say, your own father butcher and cook a stranger and serve him for dinner so his children won't die of hunger.
Perhaps that wasn't so comforting after all.
Dark clouds pool across the sky, brushing against the moon. White yellow light spills onto the concrete, illuminating the rain which blows in at a slant. One to walk with the chill rather than against it, Integra pushes her way through the cold with her usual purposeful stride. Lost in one way, but not another, she has been walking about Los Anime--deep in thought.The hour is late, adding fuel to the fire that is Integra's foul mood.
As of late she spent most of her hours out of the public eye, working tirelessly to restore her home and livelyhood both. With both Alucard and Walter missing, The Hellsing Institute lay in near rubble. With much work still to be done, it is rather strange that the Iron Maiden walks the streets at all. In no way a random person, there has to be a reason for her to make an apperance. Smoke, white trench coat, and blonde hair trailing behind, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing approaches the warehouse that was mentioned within the report that had been placed on her desk less than half an hour ago. A man in a red coat had been sighted in the area, a body in tow. It could have been anyone, anyone at all, that fit that description. But Integra is not hoping to find just anyone, she is on the hunt for a particular /person/, so to speak. Stopping for a moment the woman plucks the cashed cigar from between her lips, tossing it to the pavement below. "Alucard." The name falls heavy as she pushes aside the last of many doors, having checked through the rest of the area.
Having thrown the cloaked man from the upper floor, Alucard follows in an instant, moving fast enough that even in this still air his hat is knocked from his head and falls where he had stood. Gloved hands grasp for the broken boards that compose the upper floor, crouching there, like a red-clad gargoyle, his face all cast in stark shadow. Only his eyes shine blood red, only his teeth gleam, fangs bared in a low, throaty hiss.
"What's the matter?" taunts Alucard, his voice gravelly, almost breathless. "Leave here or fight me! Choose, you upstart -human-! Hurry!"
And then... HER voice.
Gone is that unholy delight in an instant, replaced by an attentive sort of surprise. Wind stirs at both coat and black hair, bringing with it the smell of the street beyond. Of rain (and smoke; Hendi Wenzermans small cigars, he would know that smell as intimately as gunpowder) and diesel (and hello) mingling in the street beyond the opened door. Rising expectantly from his crouch, Alucard has turned his gaze towards those opened doors.
Vincent is hit in the chest as he gets hit it sends him flying backwards. His feet only able to leave the ground a moment before the vampires blow knocks him back and in to open air. He felt it, that was a warning. He wasn't hurt more then a bruise and he knew that was meant to tell him very clearly where he stood. Thou where he stood now was in mid air as he flew backwards...His arms slowly swing outwards from his cloak and his back arches starting to flip his body in the air. His body making a single backwards flip before he lands with a hard thud on the floor below on his metal boots. His eyes looking up toward the vampire as he is taunted by the higher then thou fellow. His gun coming up and taking aim but, his finger stops not pulling the trigger. "You match my suspect and I want you to answer my questions." His eyes slowly turning slightly at the sound of the doors but, his main attention stays on Alucard.
Bathed in moon light, soaked in rain, Integra does not take even half a step forward. The woman remains still, but her narrowed gaze does a frantic dance from person to person in an instant. With the howl of wind and not so distant sirens in her ears, she has only what little of the scene she managed to walk in on to go off of. In any case, blue eyes glint with a near primal anger, lips twitching and trembling at the unseen corners.
To scream or not to scream, /THAT/ is the question. To let all within the warehouse suffer from the slings and arrows given the outrageous misfortune that she managed to cross their paths?
Gloved fingers finding a home within the inner pocket of her over coat, she locks her jaw and glares at the man who dared to question /HER/ servant in such a way.
"Alucard." This time his name is said with a different note, one that demanded some form of answer. Not that Vincent's question mattered to her at all, she has other issues weighing on her mind. Not only had Alucard gone missing, he was in the company of a small blonde haired woman; something about that bothers Integra to no end. Oh yes, that and the fact that he is currently in the middle of combat, that does not sit well with her either.
Cloaked in silence she edges inside just enough to allow the doors to ease back to a close.
The blonde head snaps up and one pale hand pulls the canvas loose from around Seras' body. She crawls over to the stairs and peers down at the melee below. Red eyes wide, she follows the gaze of her Master towards the door.
At the sight of the gun, she yanks her police-issued pistol from beneath the tarp, shakily taking aim and shouting hoarsely.
"FREEZE! DROP THE WEAPON AND P-PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"
The command sounds weak to her, but its all she can do. Here she is, head and arms dangling over the edge of the second floor, tangled up in canvas... arms waving in the air slightly and teeth bared in concentration. Its a pathetic, desperate gesture, but she would topple off the second floor if she thought it would do Alucard any good.
It's amusing where your priorities lie, Integra. How very telling.
The flames of empassioned violence have been extinguished, his bloodlust to continue this pointless battle of pride draining out of him in an instant. One could say a dose of reality, a reminder that he has -obligations- he must fulfill, that had done the trick. And here he is, waiting around here for an opponent who may never return to this place after all... to think! Waiting like a jilted date on prom night! Unbecoming, Alucard. Very unbecoming.
The gleaming discs of his shades flash as he turns his attention to Vincent, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a crooked smile, baring a fang at the shouted command of the policewoman. "We were playing a game." The vampire grins then, almost viciously, "Like tag. Except I'm not it." With a sweep of his coat, which seems to clearly have seen better days, Alucard turns to retrieve his hat... as well as the policewoman, all in one gesture, gun or no gun, canvas tarp and all. (Hand-to-Hand 5)
Since chances are good that he'll have her well in hand, Alucard carries his light burden down the staircase, making his way across to Integra. Unless Vincent attempts to make this difficult, he'll address Integra directly. "This girl wants to come with us," rumbles he, as if he hadn't been, just moments before, ready to throw down with a man who is only doing his job.
Vincent stares as he is ignored as the vampire goes and picks up a woman. His attention had been drawn to her a moment before with the cries for him to drop his gun. He had read the reports that was kitten as they called her around the office. She was alive that was enough for him at least it seems. His hand flipping his rifle back as it slips with a click in to a rifle behind him in his cloak. His eyes staring as he walks down the stairs to the odd woman. As he turns and jumps off the second floor to land on the first with a thud but, making no move to stop Alucard but, following slightly.
(Lost connection, post skipped.)
Plucked up like a hissing kitten (now a much deserved nickname) Seras Victoria lamely tries to struggle but ends up letting herself be carried down the stairs. The gun lies in her lap, her hand too weak to keep a good grip on it anyhow.
She relaxes visibly when Vincent holsters the gun, then finally takes a look at the woman her Master walks towards. Inwardly, she gapes at this woman's strength of will and beauty. She looks back and forth between them, taking note of Alucard's expression and sudden change in behavior. Curious... she wonders who this woman is.
Best to keep quiet in the meantime and let Alucard handle it.
With one last look at Vincent before she's unable to see him... her movement restricted by the wrappings and position, she scans his face to see if she recognizes him... she doesn't.
The vampire is well aware of where Vincent stands. He doesn't really have to turn his head and look, he can hear him, smell the gunpowder of his rifle's ammunition and the way gunsmoke clings to the man's cloak. With his own ageless arrogance he has utterly dismissed the gunman as unimportant; whether this fact will come back to bite him in the ass someday will be a bridge to cross when he reaches it. In any case, Alucard's bound to be amused by the result.
Integra's response is abrupt, quick, and needs no translation. She turns around sharply, trailing a few drops of rainwater shed by her hair, storming out into the street beyond. Without further discussion, he follows.
(Fade to Black)
Scene: Afterward both the night and Integra's mood were rather stormy. Although the rain clouds have gone, Integra's anger and feelings of betrayal have not. The walls of the Hellsing Institute hold within a swelling silence, the hallways devoid of any activity.
Characters: Alucard, Integra, Seras Victoria
MU**: Animania On Line ()
Number Of Poses: .....Uhm, a lot to count but I will do it soonly.
(Fade back in)
Upon arrival at the grounds of the Organization, the vampires had gone one way - though Seras had little say in the matter - and Integra in another. Namely, there was a recently-turned vampire who needed to be made a little more presentable than a half-disintegrated, bloodstained uniform, and Integra herself, Alucard had noted with something like disapproval, was soaked to the bone.
At least Seras had been left to her own devices when she was deposited in a basement room with... the only clothing he had available to lend out (without resorting to raiding Integra's own wardrobe, that is). Which means Seras gets a pair of black slacks that will only fit thanks to the belt he has included, and if she rolls up the cuffs, and a suit shirt.
As for other articles a female needs to be 'properly dressed'... oops. He -knew- he forgot -something-.
Should she leave that gloomy room after dressing, the next thing she would be confronted by is a single bloodbag left on the table. Take it or leave it, the only other feature of note in this chamber is the stairs that lead up, by which she may find her way - drawn, perhaps, by the sounds of voices she could not have heard with human ears - to where Alucard has sent himself. Where else, but to the office of his master?
"Miss me..?" comes the vampire's susurrant whisper, where he utterly fails to use the door, choosing instead to place hands on the back of Integra's chair and lean in, presenting with a flick of his wrist, an unlit, slender cigar held between two gloved fingers.
Integra sits with her back to the doorway, smoke wafting over head. Her office is dark, which is not out of the usual. The unusual part is the fact that the woman says nothing even after Alucard had so casually entered and spoken. Even though there was more than enough chance, her clothing remains unchanged, her hair plastered to her face. She is brooding and does nothing to hide the fact. So much had and was happening, a good bit of which had been done behind her back--so she felt. After finishing her own cigar she clears her throat, all the while turning her chair about so that she faces forward.
"I did not say that you could enter /or/ speak." Words spat more than spoken as she quickly rises to her feet, the palms of her hands meeting with the desk top with a rather loud 'THUMP'. "Where have you been?" It is more like her to scream, yes. But she finds herself feeling out of sorts and far from comfortable due to the 'new arrival' that had been tossed haphazardly into her care. "Do you realize just how long you have been gone!?" She does well enough the first time with keeping her voice down, but not so much the second time around. The words bounce off of the walls, flooding out and into the hallway should the door have been left open or even slightly ajar.It is the usual game of cat and mouse that she and Alucard tend to play. But this time around she can not help but feel that she is the mouse being batted around, bruised beyond recognition. Falling back she slams herself back into her chair, an expectant glare fixed on Alucard.
For some reason, you can feel like you're not wearing a stitch when you are in fact, fully clothed... just because you're lacking in undergarments. Right at this very moment, Seras is experiencing this with red-faced embarrassment.
She peered at herself in a mirror, to try and fully grasp the concept that she was not, in fact, in her birthday suit and moved on to face her next challenge: Sustinence. Facing off the medical bag bulging with her blood ration for the day, she found herself squaring off with her most difficult opponent yet. She glared at it, bared her teeth and willed herself to step up and grab it by its plump base and rip into her meal... but found herself inable to move. Instead, she stood panting at it with such desire that she blushed even harder at how rediculous she must look at this moment.
Eventually, she ran forward, snatched the bag up and tossed its contents down the sink.
Feeling somewhat better at making a decision, but still hungry, she left her room and wandered the halls, looking for her Master.
As smooth as his greeting had been, there is - but for a moment - something about his gaze that approaches the same flavor of disapproval as it had earlier. Something in the way eyes, half-lidded and burning crimson in the absense of sunglasses and fedora, take in the signs that the woman's mood is, indeed, every bit as sour as it seems.
There, and gone again with a low noise in the vampire's throat as he withdraws to the side of Integra's momentarily abandoned chair.
His left arm folds across his waist as he sinks to his right knee, other fist planted to the floor. As the vampire bows his head, his crimson gaze is drawn sideways, towards the door. ...What are you doing, police girl?
For shame, Seras, if you think you can hide that failing from the vampire that made you what you are now. But it's to be expected, to be brought into unlife so abruptly. Know this much, Seras; you will be taught properly, if (and he does) Alucard has anything to say on it. Cling as you might to your human nature, your human feelings, your human thoughts... eventually, you too will come to embrace what it means to be a phantom of the night.
Alucard lifts his head, "How long," chuckles the vampire lowly, "My... shall I guess? A few weeks? The most incredible circumstances, Integra." One eye glows once beneath the veil of his hair, revealing that -something- has his blood up, whatever it may be. "I discovered... a most worthy opponent. He knew -my- name and wasted little time with petty skills. Such glorious pain!" recounts he, his voice trembling either with excitement or amusement. "Now!"
"An order," he rasps breathlessly, "Give me an order, my Master."
A dead calm takes it's place in the room. Anyone who does not know Integra would think that she has accepted Alucard's vague statements and let things be. The truth of the matter is so /very/ far from that; Integra's anger has gone beyond what words can properly express.
The dark skinned women sinks her nails into the beds of her palms as his words replay in her mind, taunting her. Knee deep in denial, Integra attempts to dismiss even the smallest possibility that she /had/ missed him. Work before pleasure and/or sentimentality, mixing of the three is strictly forbidden. Work before all else.
In Walter's absense there is no one about to pick up on Integra's unspoken 'needs'. As much of an island as always, she tends to herself in silence as she continues to watch Alucard through a side long glare. Forcing her hand to be rock steady, she pours herself as drink. By the smell lightly alcoholic, the lack of ice giving it more of a kick to those with hightened sences. Like a game of Jaxs, Integra finds herself swiping up new faults here and there to help the days and her duties pass with ease. Do good Protestants consume such libations? No. But they tend not to smoke as well. Integra already has one vice under her figurative belt and finds no issue in partaking of another (if it is for the sake of the 'common good'). She settles back in her chair, the leather giving a rather obstinate sound as it meets with weight and wet clothing. Naked fingers delivering a pressured caress to the sides of the glass she holds, she takes a long sip before parting her lips another fraction to speak.
"You say that as if you have /never/ found a worthy opponent who has known your name before." Just how many times has Alucard made that very statement in the passed years? Not as many as Integra's mind is summing it up to be. But enough for such to come as no surprise. Even though their personal relationship rests at Master and Servant for the purposes of their professional relationship, Integra often times finds herself feeling as though those bonds are paper thin. "I am glad to see that you remain unsatisfied." She clicks her tongue, her lips pursing in a wry smile. "It is your blood lust talking, and nothing more."
She stops to take another sip from her drink. "That does not explain why you were identified by someone as being a suspect, nor does it explain the birth of a new vampire." Her eyes jerk toward the doorway, a note to Alucard's new child.
Speaking of the girl, just where is she?
Finishing off her drink in one gulp, the Kyokuchou (bureau director) straightens herself up in her chair. With issues dealing with the Institute having come to the fore, she pours her anger into that for the time being. Not to say that she is no longer pissed off as all hell and will not find an outlet, oh no. In any case having one vampire is taboo enough, but two?
Having retreated far enough into her thoughts, Integra does not seem to hear Alucard's request for an order. Or perhaps she is just ignoring him in order to get some amount of childish satisfaction? More than likely it is the former and not the ladder. "Orders?" She repeats in an almost nonchalant tone, thumbing a fresh cigar between her lips. Feeling about for a box of matches, she raises thin blonde eyebrows at Alucard.
"I am no dog trainer," She says while turning her hands up in a dismissive gesture, "-I also am not your fucking maid. You will tend to and clean up the mess that you have caused." A round about way of giving the order that Alucard train his 'new recruit' properly. "We will deal with your other issues in time." She drops her hands to her sides, seemingly done.
It is but a prelude to this old game. The silence, too, is part of it, the deadly calm before Integra's storm. Alucard has the grace at least to avert his gaze, lest it reveal just how deep his unholy amusement runs. ...Is amusement even the right word? Does excitement suffice? 'Anticipation'--yes. He is nearly beside himself with anticipation.
Yes. Flay him with your anger, tremble with that boundless rage. But do not sit there in silence, it is bad enough to see you in such a state. ....Well? Have you? Have you missed him? To be like this, to tolerate rainsoaked clothes and hair and seek solitude... not quite yourself, lately, dear Master.
Through the veil of his hair, his eyes gleam, watching the transfer of hand to bottle, liquid to glass, glass from which such -words- have come. ...What is but one more vice? One too many, when even with a 'demon's' eyes he can see she has been struggling. Alone. Strong. Stubborn as ever. Every bit her father's daughter, with that unmutable will. Will you keep trying to do everything alone?
Just /how/ long was he gone, anyhow? His sense of time has slipped.
His thoughts never go once to the 'what ifs'; what if something had happened here to destroy the Institute while he was gone? That, hm. Well, he could do fine without, but if it had taken Integra down with it... That, oh, now -that- gives his eyes reason to burn with a short-lived surge of anger. Yes, it had been glorious, /unusual/ in that he'd had scarcely begun to draw before his opponent had unleashed the worst of its attacks from the start.
"...Blood lust?" murmurs the vampire, affecting dark humor. A soft laugh, and was that a shake of his head? Mere blood lust? Perhaps it had been, but -now- it's a challenge. He still walks this night, so how could it not be an issued challenge, daring him to come back and fight again? "Mere human error," quips the man, rising from his floor with the protest of cloth and leather, "With laws so petty," he resumes, beginning a low stride that, in a few steps, carries him to the other side of Integra's chair. Gloved fingers curl around the empty glass she holds. His meaning is clear: he intends on claiming it. "...I'm sure I break a hundred every night."
Truthfully, he does not yet know what crime he has supposedly become suspect for.
For the moment, he bows his head, bringing his mouth near enough to justify murmuring in her ear, and for little more than that this possibly might fluster the woman. Damned shame she rarely shows it, but a vampire can dream. "The police girl made a choice," he rumbles, his voice at once feigning pleasantries and promising shadows and darkness. He leaves the matter of Seras at that. In the meantime, this close he can still see a droplet of water clinging to her hair, like a glass pearl. "Don't you humans have to worry about catching your deaths of mere colds?"
Such a perverse relationship the two share. Like a hungry sponge the Vampire Alucard so willingly soaks up his Master's cruel words and razor sharp looks, while she finds an odd pleasure to it herself. Neither is hurt by the exchange, but both find themselves starved for one form of attention or another, don't they?
There is a small girl that hides in the lightless cracks within Integra--a little girl that trembles and cries endlessly at one thought; the thought of losing Alucard. To answer his question without revealing any weakness, /yes/ she had missed him. In the weeks that he had been gone, a very familiar feeling had visited Integra. The very same feeling that had flooded her when she learned of her Uncle's plan to murder her--the feeling of being utterly alone with no one to turn to. If anything, that is the single feeling that Integra is doing her best to never feel again. With being a strong and capable woman comes an inability to be left behind, doesn't it?
Their exchange comes as no shock to her, as it is the same half conversation that they tend to have when Alucard pardons himself from her ever watchful gaze, from his obligations. Their joined world is full of 'what ifs', few of them being common between the two. What if the walls had come tumbling down? What if Integra were murdered, her body left defiled? Times for Hellsing are bleak, stark, and uncertian--there are enemies in more number than there are allies. It is neither her own death or the the fall of her Father's legacy that bothers Integra so. Alucard is her last attachment to a world that does little in the way of thanking her for her service, a world that has it's back turned to her. The only light that caresses her is the blood colored light that dances in the depths of Alucard's eyes.
Concrete breaks and steel can rust. Even Integra has her moments of weakness, her breaking point. But just like her dependency on Alucard, she will never let it show.
Sucking in a deep breath Integra gives an almost lazy nod of her head as Alucard goes on. There always comes a time at which Alucard /must/ follow his nature, and she knows it. "You are not the type to let a challenge go unanswered." She watches him, wetting her lips with her tongue. "Pardon me for lowering your intent down to the level of simple blood lust." She is smug as always, her apology more of a taunt. As he moves her eyes follow, curiosity poorly hidden on the very surface of her expression.
"As for laws, there are a small amount by which you must abide by." She snorts. "All others are inconsequential." Her general feelings of Los Anime and how it is run is just that as well. "We do not deal in red tape or paper work."
With nothing more to say on her part, she sits mute as he places himself so near to her. Alucard, one of three people whom she has ever let so close. For Integra there is comfort in being so near to him, a sense of peace. Granted, she is still furious, but his whisper is both calming and exciting. Damned shame that she is so far removed from her feelings, indeed. Eyes half closed she listens, humming a single note as she does. "It must be a thrill, finding a virgin as you did." Her right eye opens only slightly, her left remaining closer to shut.
"As much as you should not have made the offer of unlife to begin with, I suppose we have no choice /but/ to take her in." Integra lets her lips part, the cigar hanging on as if for dear life as she exhales a bitter sweet cloud of smoke. "It is either that or dispose of her." She laughs a little to punctuate the fact that she is only joking. "As things are, I will help you see to it that she is..." a pause. "-comfortable and seen to." It is clear that Integra is accepting enough to not put a silver bullet through Alucard's subordinate's face.
Her way is to ignore anything dealing with herself so that she does not have to think on it. Alucard's mention of her catching a cold is brushed off for a moment as Integra formulates her reply. "I do think that catching one's death from a cold is simply an old saying." Most sayings are born from a truth, but modern humanity tends to forget as much. "Now that you have reported in, I can rid myself of these wet clothes." Another puff off of her cigar. "Thank you." With no room to move she remains sitting.
Red is his color, but it suits you oh so well, Iron Maiden mine.
When one has seen what he has seen and lived so long with obscene knowledge, what left is there to lift the chains of boredom but the perverse? One taste of your blood ten years ago -- do you think that is -all- he would continue to crave? That same spirit, that same indomitable spirit, -that- might be something he could truly call 'eternal'.
Theirs is an interesting relationship. Just who is chained to who? She may hold the leash, but the question is: Does she hold the leash because to let go is to release Death? Or does she for... less than professional reasons? If she cannot be left behind, he cannot abide being forgotten - is it any wonder his 'antics' run the gamut between flamboyant and rampantly destructive? But to confess this? He would sooner become a pacifist. Him! As if such a thing were possible.
Who would dare to think such a delicate creature could live inside the Iron Maiden?
It may be in human nature, the capacity to recognize the value of a thing when they have it -- to 'appreciate' their circumstances, if you will -- it may even be in their nature to covet, to desire, to take and raise a violent hand towards their own. It is human nature to break, to burn, to protest their eventual passing into that dark night; it is even ... in their nature to be thankless, selfish creatures. But it is also in their nature to forgive. "...What strange creatures you humans are," muses the vampire, his crimson eyes half-lidded to compliment a lazy, contemplative smile. That he speaks aloud his non-sequiteur does not even occur to Alucard.
No challenge goes unanswered. There are few exceptions to this rule, but it pleases Alucard - and visibly - to hear it come from the woman's own lips. Quietly, his laughter is an almost breathless rattle in his throat. "Oho..? So in this matter," replies Alucard, canting his head to bring his crimson gaze on a level with Integra's icy own. "We see eye to eye? We -are- in rare form this evening," chuckles the vampire, dryly.
Conversation again shifts to the fledgling vampire, and the light of unholy mischief fades in his eyes. "Mm," thrums a note neutral; it could be agreement or merely contemplation. "...It was unusual circumstances. Perhaps she will surprise us both, ...but..." Again he leans in, grinning. "Does it disturb you that I found and turned her, away from your presence?"
Are you, by chance, jealous?
"Perhaps I should make it up to you," and now there is no hiding the perverse amusement, it's all there, in rich laughter unuttered in his tone, while he brings up one gloved hand as if to brush his fingers against the side of her neck, every bit as uninvited and subtle as a caress in the dark. Ah, but it is, isn't it? One couldn't say this office is well-lit tonight, could they? "It would be only your choice..."
Would it serve to say that they are /both/ over grown children? Their struggles for attention run at sub level, unnoticed by the both of them? When one has walked the world as long as Alucard has and when one has lived through that which Integra has--twisted fairy tales do indeed become that which is /normal/. He was bound and she was trapped, so much painfully similar between the two of them found ten years ago. He took her blood, she borrowed his strength--a situation that has not changed one bit if one looks at it. Their strengths, when combined, work to cover their weaknesses.
Just /who/ was it that had captured who? Who held the upper hand? It is all a light and smoke show, neither actually having a true ownership. Integra puts on the mask of being the Master, calm and in control. But Alucard is more a force of nature, the darkest sections of it, and no human can control that. There in lies the heart of the matter--Integra is only human. If he wanted he could snuff her out in an instant, but that is something that neither party has /ever/ spoken of.
As the saying goes--"You do not know what you have until it is gone."
What good there is to humanity is easily over shadowed by the history of man kind. If God had created man in his image, the mirror he used must have been not only shattered but streaked in mud and dust. Man /is/ corrupt. One such as Alucard has lived long enough to read between the lines. But man is sadly blind to the follies of man, often times siting an outside force for their evils. At least this means that Integra has, at least, one eye open. But that ties into another story all of it's own, best saved for another time. At his words she furrows her brow, letting an actual expression of confusion slip through her usual granite mask. "Do you mind sharing with the rest of the class, Alucard?" Of course she does not expect him to say a single word that would shed light on the subject. She simply feels like interjecting, a need to always be present and dominant.
Moving right along, "Red to blue." She says, making it a point to match his gaze. They saw eye to eye more than either of them knew, but old bible verses and childhood lessons often times made Integra think otherwise for a moment or two. "And you are damned right that it does." And damned right to think that she is some what jealous. "Our purpose here is not to create more vampires, you know that." Sinking into her chair she gnaws at her cigar, doing what she can to fight off the wave of unexplained agitation. "Bastard!" As his fingers ride along her neck Integra's body gives her away--goose bumps ride along her skin and a shallow gasp exits her throat. If calling him a 'Bastard' is a part of sentence (A) or sentence (B) is unclear. Either which way she looks at it, he is a Bastard none the less for one reason or another.
"Idiot!" She does what she can to swat Alucard's hand away from her, spitting and yowling just like a cat. "What are you thinking, Alucard?!" She is yelling again, having rocked backward in her chair to propel herself up and to her feet. That is if Alucard lets her, given his advantage over her.
Her hand will meet no resistance, knocking his away. Alucard wears an expression of mild surprise at first - but at what, in particular, is left unsaid. It couldn't have been her anger, but if the truth must be told, outside either the hearing of vampires and humans, it had been that one confession. It sounds dangerously close to an admission of jealousy.
-Then- he moves, a heavy rustle of long coat and the creaking protest of her chair, when his left palm meets its back and he places himself between chair, woman and desk, exhaling a dry, ageless chuckle.
Had he been human, he could have blamed lust, or perhaps her beauty. As a vampire, he could have had the excuse of hunger, but this is only cruel mischief, nothing more. Nothing more.
To his credit, there is no madness in his eyes, just the calm, dark humor that leaves his mouth curled in a subdued smile, baring to her only the tip of one deadly fang. There is no question now: he is well within her personal boundaries, knows full well he's crossing the line, but he can scarcely help himself. Her anger, her rage makes her shine, brilliantly.
One booted foot has come to rest up on the edge of her chair where the seat and arm of it meet, and one hand has moved as if it intends to cup her chin, but fingers only first trace the line of her jaw, drift up to her lips, and pluck from between her teeth a slender cigar.
"Always..." breathes the vampire, his elbow meeting the back of her chair to rest his forearm along it, gloved fingers curled around its edge.
The cigar is brought up to his own mouth, its ember flaring bright before it is drawn away again.
"Always, Integra..." And now Alucard gives a slight shake of his head, slowly, the cigar's pungent smoke curling from his mouth. "Always neither 'yes' nor 'no'." He expects no answer now, only her anger, but perhaps she might surprise him, the way she just had when her very skin betrayed her. Goosebumps at his touch? My, but you are -full- of surprises.
Two sounds, that is all that she can make out.
Her own thunderous heart beat.
Integra feels her entire body recoil, each muscle growing tense. Anything else she can handle, but the calm way in which he is looking at her with is /not/ one of them. He moves, she remains still. It is almost as if her body has turned itself to led, and water is creeping it's way upward. She is drowning, she is sure of it. It is like Alucard to play these games with her, yes. But after a session of barked insults and swinging fists, he would leave her be. This time he drew closer, continued on, which caught her by surprise.
He is laughing, he is smiling, and it is all at /her/ expense, yet she does nothing. The stillness on her part only makes her angrier, added to Alucard's sudden decision to press his luck. As the cigar is plucked from her lips Integra gives a yelp. It was meant to be something along the lines of "You bloody git", but the words curled up and died at the halfway point. Life and death should never be as close as this. Living flesh should never meet with that of the dead, at least not in such a intimate way. He is touching her, and she is enjoying it--yet another thing to fuel her anger. How is it possible that someone can make her want them, and want to kill them all the same? Confusion, another thing that she does not deal with well. There are two ways of answering, or so she has figured. Both of which do not involve giving a clear answer.
~I'm afraid Alucard, don't do this.~
So begs the trembling voice of a chlid, always unheard. Not that she is afraid of him, no. She is afraid of what she is tempted to say, tempted to do.
"What the fuck do you expect?" It is a weak reply, yes, but she couldn't figure another way to phrase. "You know why.." If he does or does not, it is the only thing that came to mind. Biting into her bottom lip she falls silent, her eyes roaming about Alucard's face. How she envies the fact that Alucard can do as he feels, even if it does often times put him up for a bruise or two from her.
What the body wants, it trembles for--common sense does not apply. Pulling herself up, she allows herself to close the gap that lies between them. "Would you want me in that way?" Not a hiss but a soft purr of scented air directly into his ear. Perhaps it is the alcohol driving her, but she rests her chin on his shoulder, grazing her lips against his neck. "Now let me up so that I can change my damned clothes, you bastard." Wet warmth, she flicks her tongue against his skin, but only for a second.
Some have theorized that vampires have enhanced hearing only because they have not the interference of a living body's own internal noise. However incorrect, Alucard has no need for breath, no need for food, no pulse but for the current of blood within his veins. His unlife, his power, stolen from the veins of the living. And this close he is all too aware of how that heart thunders within the cage of her ribs - and that he, his words, his actions are the cause.
Barked insults, swinging fists. Yes, normally he would have let her be, let the storm blow over. But these are hardly normal circumstances, even for them. You have been alone, and until he arrived you had cloistered yourself here, in your office, in the dark. And had not bothered to rid yourself of the rain. Don't you see?
You have brought the rainstorm with you, right into your own house.
Life and death. The beauty and the beast. An abomination, and yet people write such glorious tales about these and other alien juxtaposition. He could have left his gloved fingers occupied by the cigar, but her eyes are saying something far more interesting than this game of dominance. With a flick of his wrist, he sends it flipping end over end behind him, trailing smoke until it lands on the stone floor just outside the open doorway where it tumbles, shedding a shower of scattered, hot ash.
His fingers thus free, they move as if he intends again to touch her mouth--that she pulls herself up, closing the distance on her own will gives his hand reason to pause, some of his maddeningly self-assured composure revealing amused surprise with the lift of a dark brow. This time, his smile bares more of his teeth, a reedy exhale expressing either satisfaction or desire.
Who can be sure? He has made the same hissing sigh for both before.
His hand cups the warmth at the nape of her neck, fingers sinking into still-damp hair, and then freezing with tangible rigidity as he identifies the touch of her tongue. In the span of a second, he has felt his jaw unlock from its smile, teeth part and his head begin to cant down. It is a force of sheer will that finds him halting, his mouth a good three inches from the curve of her throat. "...Unfair," rumbles the vampire, after a moment. He could never claim her but by her choice, but for a moment, she had made the option compellingly inviting.
Another rustle of cloth, the clomp of a boot on the floor, and Alucard is slipping away from the chair, the desk, and its occupant. Only someone as irreverent as himself would dare to whistle a hauntingly jaunty tune as he attempts to depart, giving her a florished farewell with one gloved hand.
The throbbing within Integra's chest stops, her breathing likewise. Even though she has not moved an inch since, the world pulses and races about her. She knows it, and most likely Alucard does as well--Integra is an open wound. All that she has gone through, she went through for /him/. In his absence she hardly ate, slept, or worked; wasting away in her office, occasionally pushing papers through here and here. Although her body was rooted within her office, her mind was elsewhere. With Alucard standing before her, feelings of guilt soak her to the bone. As Alucard's fingers snake their way through her hair, Integra has a moment to think, a moment to doubt. All the while she had told herself that she needed Alucard for the sake of the Hellsing Institute, and for that single reason only.
She is pressed close to him, her arms stinging as she attempts to fight off the urge to wrap them around him. What would it feel like to hold death in your arms? What would it feel like to sink into a cold embrace? All Integra knows is that she could not, should not, allow her emotions to run away with her. She must /not/ give in, so much weighs on her remaining chaste. For a time Integra allowed herself to imagine--to imagine what it would be like to become one with Alucard.
"Life is not fair, and neither is un-life." The words hit the gloom of the secluded room like bricks though sugar glass, shattering the fragility of emotions unripe. As his shadow floods away from hers, his body leaving hers, Integra looks up. She would give chase, if not for the fact that she felt sure that he was not leaving again. Finally able to catch her breath, Integra lets out a ragged breath. Her maiden's coil throbs with an unfamiliar ache, her knees are water weak--unknown to her, signs of arousal. The No Life King had not bitten her, no. None the less she feels as though she is under some manner of charm.
The best that she can do is watch, keeping her distance in hopes of calming down. "You should clean up as well." Said so that she can regain some amount of footing, some amount of authority. Gathering up her now stiff over coat, Integra strides from the office, heading to her room to change.
This particular cast (Hellsing) is looking for a new home. We are mature, well spoken, easy to get along with players who seek others of the same mind. We are not cliquish, nor do we desire to be a part of any cliques. We simply want to be able to write to our hearts content in a dark setting. Animania was great while it lasted, but appears to be off line from here on out (I've tried to log on several times, no go).
If you have a possible home for us, we would love to hear about it. We've not been able to role play together as a set since April!
In any case, comment or e-mail me if interested (I'll get in contact with my other cast members to fill them in). Check my user info for my contacts.
Haruhi (Tsuki no knife @ LJ)
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