Alucard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toothsomehound) wrote2013-06-06 06:38 pm
toothsomehound) wrote2013-06-06 06:38 pm
/SEXY BEACH PARTY
[As soon as the sun had slid behind the horizon, pierced deep in the chest by the mountains (and wasn't that imagery that brought back memories), Alucard had felt an ache easing in him.
he hadn't even known he'd had it, but returning home to Wallachia, returning home to brutal winters and great wolfhounds in the kennels and standoffish corpulent woman cooks who made food to coat your bones and warm them, warm them, was good. it soothed him. he had missed his motherland. every land had a scent, and there was no smell good as home.
he watched the thick snow fall through the double French windows of the castle he (a wealthy foreigner, he'd said he was, from England for some years now- not a lie, certainly not the truth) had recovered. it was odd to see it turned to peacetime purposes. he still couldn't shake the feeling of wartimes come when he paced its corridors, but ah, ah. he was a fossil, an old man, a monster of time. what did it matter?
not much.
turning away, Alucard shrugged on a smoking jacket, eyeballed his library lazily, and stepped out into the hallway, intent on standing on the garrets and enjoying a good cigar for an hour or two. perhaps he'd hear the wolves this night.]
he hadn't even known he'd had it, but returning home to Wallachia, returning home to brutal winters and great wolfhounds in the kennels and standoffish corpulent woman cooks who made food to coat your bones and warm them, warm them, was good. it soothed him. he had missed his motherland. every land had a scent, and there was no smell good as home.
he watched the thick snow fall through the double French windows of the castle he (a wealthy foreigner, he'd said he was, from England for some years now- not a lie, certainly not the truth) had recovered. it was odd to see it turned to peacetime purposes. he still couldn't shake the feeling of wartimes come when he paced its corridors, but ah, ah. he was a fossil, an old man, a monster of time. what did it matter?
not much.
turning away, Alucard shrugged on a smoking jacket, eyeballed his library lazily, and stepped out into the hallway, intent on standing on the garrets and enjoying a good cigar for an hour or two. perhaps he'd hear the wolves this night.]
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(Cross almost keeps the bemused tone out of his voice, trying to pass it off as apathy. He moves so that he's like a large cat that's bent in so many impossible ways. his legs next to alucard's head as his head still rests on the armrest.)
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Careful, you might pull something.
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(Cross acts more like a child, even shifting so that his legs are now on the opposite end of the chair, his boots on Alucard's arm.)
Now, leave me alone.
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