multiversallogs | 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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"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.

you can build a house or sink a dead body

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