multiversallogs | you can build a house or sink a dead body

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you can build a house or sink a dead body

Who: Integra Hellsing and Alucard.
What: WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH THESE VAMPIRES, also date night (not really)
Where: Hellsing Manor
When: RIGHT NOW.
Notes: (Dys)functionality at its best.
Warnings: (potentially) blood and gore and generally inappropriate things. hooray.

There's something to be said for the ease with which Alucard has settled into his new surroundings, and it isn't necessarily pleasant. It wouldn't be, anyway, if anyone knew the could-be-ramifications of giving someone (something) like him so much freedom. He enjoys it, but not because he feels himself an equal - such would be far from the truth. Alucard's pleasure stems from something decidedly, and unfortunately, more complex, and almost completely unrelated to the concept of freedom in itself. It's also something he can't be bothered to dwell on for the moment.

His tether, though loosened more than it ever could have been back home, is still ever-present, and he can feel its tug in the form of an order that needn't be spoken. Within moments Alucard steps into his Master's room, curiosity as plain as it ever gets upon his features.

"You called?"

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Integra is sitting on her bed when Alucard arrives - her room is still sparse, almost embarrassingly so, but she'd rather Sebastian work on getting Nuala's quarters up to code, and it's not like she cares much personally. Cross-legged, barefoot, with papers spread out around her and an ash tray set on top of a manila file folder, she is the very picture of a workaholic.

"Have you been eavesdropping at all?"

"Not in the slightest."

And Alucard's expression is promptly fading into something of mild distaste as he peers about Integra's room, for what is probably the hundredth or so time. Yes, the man who lives in a coffin in the basement finds the space unlivable.

"Do you ever plan to move in?"

"I moved into my office." She hands him the folder on new employees, long since accustomed to this line of questioning. No, she doesn't care, and until somebody redoes her entire room while she's out of the house without telling her first, it's going to continue to be a well insulated prison cell. Alas. "Your doctor friend came by and ended up traumatized over the lack of vampiric structure in the city, Réjean should be speaking to her about it soon. Apparently there's something cooking in the mass destruction department brewing, the vitae-drinkers are fussing again."

"Of course you did."

He moves to take the folder, glancing down to regard it for a few short seconds - about the time it takes him to perch at the edge of the bed - before setting it right back down.

"I meant to speak with her in person. Their hierarchy is interesting, if dated. I imagine it will prove problematic if any of the so-called 'princes' arrive."

"Forgive me my skepticism." Dry. None of the other vampires choosing to conduct themselves within orders and courts have ever been an outright problem; she's well aware there are plenty who operate effectively in secret, but as far as she's concerned, that just means they're smart enough to value their continued existence.

"My only concern is that there may eventually be in-fighting amongst them." Collateral damage: fun for the whole city.

"That's what I mean."

He's known - killed - enough vampires, knows himself well enough, to understand the assertion of dominance, hierarchy or not. He has no fear for Hellsing, but where there are clans, there are wars.

"In any case, they shouldn't be difficult to deal with."

"Indeed." At least he won't be bored, if it comes to that. They've got more agents, which will be helpful with the work load, but aside from perhaps Hellboy here and there, none of them are going to be operating on Alucard's particular level. (Maybe she'll make an alchemic power-corset and send him out dealing with haunted houses. No?)

She stretches her shoulders and a popping noise sounds from the general direction of her spine; she makes a face. Lethargy is annoying as hell, but she's still got plenty to do. At least she feels slightly less stagnated for having walked back from the guild hall. "Sam Winchester is back, older. If you could take a look about his blood when you've got a chance, I'd appreciate it."

Those are magic words, apparently, because Alucard's grin immediately broadens. He does so enjoy the Winchesters. (Why.)

"I'll make a point of it."

It's now that he picks up the file again, finally taking a moment to page through, albeit he doesn't look at anything beyond listed names.

"Is this all you've been doing?"

"Interviews, meetings, someone brought in a dead... dinosaur? It's still being dissected. That was interesting." For a moment. "I've been having to re-balance the budget with construction resuming, and I have to take time out to teach Mr. Winchester the younger how to ride a bloody horse." That... is going to be something. "I had to draw up dimensions for Excalibur, but that's done, at least." She can't believe Hellboy doesn't have a scabbard for it. It makes her slightly crazy just thinking about it, still.

"I pity the horse."

Still, he sounds amused. He'll be there for the riding lessons, rest assured.

"But assuming you won't be torturing the beast just yet, you ought to take me for a walk."

It's not just for his sake - he's been quite busy and enjoying it, in fact. He simply figures Integra will do well to have an excuse that takes her off the grounds for a while.

Yes, well, she pities the horse too. These things just sort of happen. Alucard should stop by the kitchen in the guild hall sometime.

"Treading a hole in the carpet already?" Deadpan joking aside, she really would like to get out for a while. She shouldn't, but she can feel the edges of her attention span starting to blur, and even Integra's workaholic drive isn't immune to over-stressing her mind. She flips closed the folder she was pursuing and then stretches over to grab her boots off the floor. "Anything in mind?"

(What needs killed that's not on the books?)

"I thought we might leave the city and take in some of the scenery."

No, there isn't anything in particular he wants to kill - but finding something that requires more effort than what generally amounts to an angry leer for him might be nice. He doesn't rise yet, simply settling back on his hands to let her get ready.

"Unless you have something better in mind. I'm not picky."

"That's fine." More effort for Alucard means significantly more effort for Integra, but even without him, she's never been afraid of what lurks in the dark. Perhaps she should be. Boots, coat, gloves, gun, magazines, sword, torch. Unlike some self-styled hunters, Integra doesn't carry a massive arsenal of little odds and ends when she goes out into the field; her equipment is blessed six ways to Sunday (perhaps literally) and she's creative and trained enough to be able to think her way out of nearly anything that might require salt or a lock-pick.

"Feel like riding?"

"Of course."

He's never opposed to it, granted he's permitted to bring his own horse. It'll be a cold day in Hell when any living beast proves unbalanced enough to have him for a rider, and Integra - more than likely through much trial and error and unfortunately frightened steeds - should know it well. When she's properly geared he'll finally rise up, crossing to open the door. It's a wonder that he hasn't forgotten how to use doorknobs, really.

"Shall we?"

Integra doesn't bother with horses who can't run though cannon fire, at this point. Fortunately, Baedal breeds creatures with sturdy, tolerant temperaments out of necessity. Her mount is practically a war horse by now, though she personally finds it fitting; while one can't call anything born in Baedal anything but alien, she reckons it's as close to Spanish as one's going to get. A nearly-proper destrier.

Alucard could spawn and army in the time it takes her to walk to the stables and tack up, but at least the company's pleasant. "I've been watching the trainer listings out in the farmlands," she says to him as she whacks the horse's foreleg until it complies to let her check its hooves, "To see if anyone has anything particularly ill-tempered they want off their hands."

Predictably, Integra can break horses like other people break sweats. When you're used to monsters, it's practically sleight of hand.

"Perhaps you can find one that will tolerate me."

More than likely she won't, but it isn't like he really desires any other than his own. It's difficult not to play favourites when yours have been maintained for hundreds of years - besides, his are so much more effective.

For his purposes, at least.

"I should come to see them with you, if you ever go looking."

If one were ever able to tolerate his presence without careful training and induction, it would be a miracle. He stands a fair distance away as Integra readies her mount, well aware that he doesn't have any particularly wonderful effect on them. He'll fetch his own once she's ready.

"You could've been nicer to the unicorn. Maybe it would have liked you better."

Other people might not have been able to say that with a straight face. Integra is not other people.

On the horse and out to meet him, the animal halts a little when they get close to Alucard, but calms when she jerks the reins authoritatively. Apparently the desire to behave for its rider overrules fear of that thing. "I assume you're going to take the opportunity to enforce our security while we're out?" She tries not to smile - the notion that the woods in the area are haunted serves them well. It doesn't hurt to add a little drama to the legends, here and there.

"It does like me."

Alucard never has a straight face.

When Integra is prepared, it's but a moment before his own steed has risen up - dark fog into something corporeal and black and, eventually, an actual armoured destrier that looks battle ready as it had the day it died. It's no wonder he likes his own horse.

He lifts himself up with little ceremony, maintaining a wide enough berth not to agitate the other mount as he circles, stopping just behind and to the right of Integra.

"Of course I will."

She spares him an amused barely-there glance over her shoulder, for just half a heartbeat, and then she's off - west through the woods, away from the town and into the dark filled with back roads and the odd old home; they'll have to tear through Sangwine to get to the outlying areas, but it's not like either of them care about the comfort of the hour. People could do with getting a bit startled out here.

Riding like this, breakneck and reckless, is one of the only things she loses herself in anymore that isn't killing. She doesn't smell blood or gunpowder, now, though part of her searches for it, in the back of her mind. Her horse clears a fallen log with ease, its hoofbeats finding hard-packed earth, then cobblestone, as they fly past the illuminated cabin window of some unsuspecting misanthrope.

Chased by a nightmare like this, the sight should be horrific - but if anyone catches any sound, there'll be no memory of screams, but perhaps, if someone listens close enough, someone's soft laughter.

He's never been one to enjoy riding for anything but function, but Alucard can appreciate the nostalgia of it. It's a pleasant break from monotony - that much is certain - if not for himself then for his Master, which is more than enough to make him amicable to the activity.

When Integra speeds up, he's right behind her. It's no secret that he could overtake her in a moment if he wished to, but for now the chase is far more entertaining. Her horse, he muses, probably thinks it's fleeing for its life.

The clank of his horse's armour is almost enough to drown out the thunderous hoofbeats, and it grows louder the closer he gets - soon enough he's riding just beside her, with a certain ease it's hard to obtain when your horse isn't simply an extension of yourself.

"I'm starting to think that you don't particularly miss your car."

She laughs again, in that way where it's not true laughter because she never learned how - her childhood had no games and all the stories were frightening and real - but it's breathless and lacking in any other description.

"I don't."

Integra lacks the ability to command the forces of darkness to make her voice heard in the dark, and though it's swallowed up by the night air as they run, she doesn't even imagine he can't hear her. Her mortal horse is more stubborn than scared, charging on and on, as if proving itself. It's a good animal. Maybe she'll even name the damn thing.

They're coming up on the neighboring village in the Sangwine district, now. If Alucard wants to haunt the territory, now's the time.

It would seem that he has every intention of frightening the locals, because his horse halts almost instantaneously as they cross into new territory, suddenly enough that it would have thrown a rider with any less experience. Integra will notice, of course, if not for having seen it for the sudden absence of the sound of war riding beside her.

Already Alucard has dismounted, leaving the beast to stomp at the ground in agitation as he moves aside. Apparently it doesn't approve of these sorts of shenanigans. Familiars, what can you do?

Integra slows her steed from a gallop in the town limits, striking a semi-unconsciously intimidating image - it's not unheard of for Sir Hellsing to go out at night and (investigate? patrol?) work, but it's rare. She makes people nervous, not by intent, but because it's not like anything good ever brings her out.

She inadvertently shoos two pub-crawling women inside at the sight of her, but another group of friends is a bit more brave, watching her and carrying on after her horse takes her around another corner, heading ever westward. Perhaps they'll enjoy what's at her heels.

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you can build a house or sink a dead body

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