I can't resist when people like my writing... still a WIP, and this WILL earn a very Mature rating, but here's another snippet:
Sypha rubs her hands together and draws a swift circle with her finger, raising the flames to their campfire that much higher. She tends to it, lost in thought, then steals a glance towards Alucard, seated on a log, busy cleaning the fish Trevor had caught.
She rests her chin on her risen knees, watching him work, fine-boned hands turning crimson as he wields a dagger with a silvered hilt. She studies his face, the slight pinch of his brows as he works; the dark circles under his eyes. She worries, which is something Sypha hadnât expected to happen at any level beyond that of caring for a companion.
Not long ago, both the hunter and the soldier were mere abstract concepts in a timelorn prophecy whose sources passed from memory, tucked away in a corner of her mind â distant and ephemeral, like those other worlds rumored to exist beyond Earth in the collective knowledge of her people. But now, one had saved her life, while the other had put forth their common goal, along with the personal strife attached to it. She still canât seem to get to him besides, and Trevor, she found, is easier to reach despite his own issues, dismissive takes on life and frayed social skills.
âYou're used to life on the road,â she comments, watching Alucard flip a fish into the wooden bowl she'd filled with water, his pale fingers swift and efficient in their work. The blood on his skin is dark red, like crushed berries staining crisp white sheets.
Alucard eyes her briefly, something akin to a smirk on his lips. Like this, with his hair tied away from his face and his dark coat discarded, he looks disarmingly open, the stray afternoon light dappling his skin and softening the sharpness of his features; neither young nor old, but there's an undeniably⌠timeless air about him, she decides. She's never seen anything like it, met no one like him. But then (she assumes) he'd never encountered anyone like her, either.
âIâve spent a few summers in the wild, traveling,â he replies, âsometimes with my parents, or only Mother and I. Sometimes,â another fish lands in the bowl, âIâd go alone.â
Sypha raises her eyebrows, the sparks of interest gleaming in her eyes. âInteresting, that you had that freedom, considering...â she trails away, biting her lip. Too late.
Alucard merely nods, unaffected by the implication. âŚconsidering your father was Dracula.
 âMy mother and father saw eye to eye on many things, but she was always against my being primed to pursue my fatherâs obligations.â He hands her the bowl, golden eyes flickering to hers.
âThen⌠what happened?âÂ
âMy mother won in the end. Iâve had my share of military training despite that, but⌠â
Sypha takes the bowl from his bloodied hands, fingers slipping against his cold, cold skin. âBut?â
Alucard glances at her curiously, then stands to his feet. âOnce I grew older, they let me choose.â He smiles, and Sypha hums in interest.
â...and you did not choose your father's path.â
Alucard tries reaching for the water pouch just then, and she leans over for it, taking and holding it out to pour water into his waiting hands.Â
âWhat makes you think that?â
Sypha looks up at him, though his eyes are turned away as he rinses his hands. âW-well youâŚâ
The grin that follows both annoys and shakes her into a mental tremor. Now of all times, he finds humor appropriate, which is just like Trevor if she thinks about it â while neither usually sees the miss in the entirety of its horrible, horrible glory.
Alucard looks up at her, and the smile fades from his lips as he finishes rinsing and rises, thanking her with a nod. âForgive me, Sypha. You were right.â He smiles again, and it strikes her deep, no matter how fleeting it is. He is going through a personal tragedy if nothing else, she can only presume; the fact that he even had this shred of impishness. âBut⌠I admit. I find it curious. What do you find so convincing against it? Look at what I'm heading to do.â
PS: for all the syphacard lovers out there I once wrote this other angstfest of a fic: Darkest Hour