[There had been a small buzz when new faces appeared one day, marched into the jail cells like everyone else. Alucard had only observed with some relief that the cell he occupied being full to capacity made life a little easier. No one new to deal with, and quite frankly, he knew his current cellmates were a stroke of luck in their way.
It wasn't until the first day that the newcomers were about the yard for the allotted single hour of outside time that Alucard felt the world shift and roll underneath him in the worst way possible. In walking towards the area he always occupied in the precious hour (perfect sun and shade as it got too hot, far away from the guards and from where most others congregated), there was a ghost. Or a harbinger. Something.
Leon Belmont. The source of four hundred years of Belmont vs. Dracula, a driver of so many of his father's actions, the proud French knight who left everything behind to hunt vampires and take up night work. It couldn't be anyone else, Alucard had gone past that portrait too many times.
He's careful not to gape. To keep moving, making sure that he doesn't invite attention. But inside there's a new fear. It was one thing, having a hunter like Geralt as a cellmate. He was blunt enough about what it'd take to turn talents on Alucard (enough coin and enough of a threat), and the two at least got along. The Belmont though? Practically a saint in the eyes of his family, with none of Trevor's roughness and hard living, likely here in his prime from hunting Dracula?
He's not scared. Not exactly. For now he is only overwhelmed, processing this new face in conjunction with what, precisely, he'd like to do to the Kingdom of Thorne for the past two months of imprisonment, humiliation, and restraint.
So he stands in his spot, eyes closed, seeming to enjoy the summer skies. Only Alucard's hands shake, giving away anything at all.]
Iii
It wasn't until the first day that the newcomers were about the yard for the allotted single hour of outside time that Alucard felt the world shift and roll underneath him in the worst way possible. In walking towards the area he always occupied in the precious hour (perfect sun and shade as it got too hot, far away from the guards and from where most others congregated), there was a ghost. Or a harbinger. Something.
Leon Belmont. The source of four hundred years of Belmont vs. Dracula, a driver of so many of his father's actions, the proud French knight who left everything behind to hunt vampires and take up night work. It couldn't be anyone else, Alucard had gone past that portrait too many times.
He's careful not to gape. To keep moving, making sure that he doesn't invite attention. But inside there's a new fear. It was one thing, having a hunter like Geralt as a cellmate. He was blunt enough about what it'd take to turn talents on Alucard (enough coin and enough of a threat), and the two at least got along. The Belmont though? Practically a saint in the eyes of his family, with none of Trevor's roughness and hard living, likely here in his prime from hunting Dracula?
He's not scared. Not exactly. For now he is only overwhelmed, processing this new face in conjunction with what, precisely, he'd like to do to the Kingdom of Thorne for the past two months of imprisonment, humiliation, and restraint.
So he stands in his spot, eyes closed, seeming to enjoy the summer skies. Only Alucard's hands shake, giving away anything at all.]