#hellsingsshe

[ariseasvictorarchived]

"Seras look! I found a paper-boy cap for you. Do you like it?"

Seras held the hat and examined it with a connoisseur’s eye. Beautifully sewn together, it was a lovely specimen of her favourite species of head gear. Also, she didn’t have one in this particular colour and weave.

She smiled, very happy with the gift.

"I do, Mina. It’s brilliant. Thank you. You have a good eye."

[calisvol]

    "Do I truly inspire the need for you to spend such an abysmally long time in the shower, Countess?" he asked with a rather pronounced tone of exaggerated irritation, perhaps even being wounded. Yet, it was nothing of the sort as the Nosferatu was lounged rather lazily upon the bed, occupied by Mina since transferring to Carfax upon its restoration. A book was suspended oddly, casting a wide shadow upon his countenance. Was she showering? Preparing to? He didn't understand the female need to occupy the washroom for such a vast amount of time, which soon inspiring a swing of long legs and laconic stride, leaning upon the bathroom door, canting his head rather speculatively before smiling impishly. "Unless you'd rather I join you~?"

[ariseasvictorarchived]

((Pfft! Forget going anon for this one! I love just about everything about how you play Seras. I liven how you stick so true to her character. She's polite, shy, but gets easily flustered and a little cheeky at times. But you ADD so much to her character, which is the entire point of role-play is it not? I love your 'what I'm wearing wednesday' posts and how you simply incorporate the city of London so heavily into your blog. Plus, you're really fun to talk to ooh. *hug* Gushing = over))

{ HOW DID I MISS SEEING THIS?? Aww, thank you so much. To me, London (hell, all of England) is this ancient, fascinating, complex place that often gets generalized into a ‘What-ho, old boy, tea and crumpets!’ stereotype. So, on this blog, I do my best to flesh out Seras’ home town and country and fellow Londoners. Thanks for noticing. I’m glad you like it. ^^ }

[adrianthedemon-archive]

((Sorry! Have been busy these last few days. I'll get on later today. ;3; ))

[calisvol]

from the blood comes the life--; (closed rp]

    There is a ghost that wanders, a phantom that walks. He who once was is but a miserable wretch now tied and chained to the behest of a man loathed and a man abhorred. For he remembers that fateful day barely a year ago whence all that he had left was taken from him and he who had nothing become nothing. But it is upon these rare nights that he is allowed reprieve, the vampire so utterly listless and a hollow shell of his former self granted a walk with labored breaths and pounding heart that throbs weakly and consumes his very senses. He who once was should never be. But upon this night in particular, through the luminous corridors shed with waxen and silvered illumination, does he hear the sounds of activity. Of concern, of masculine voices waging verbal combat as quietly as could be. Alucard takes no interest in punishment upon discovery, and instead passes them in thoughtless form and shadow. But there is a scent, a catch of a presence he knew once and knows not now. A terrifying grace, a mental link he thought to have been abolished. She calls unconsciously to him, and her presence beckons through the thought and through the shadow. There is a room and within a room there is not one presence alone, but three. One who always was and two who were yet to become. Cradled within feminine arm and maternal sanctuary. There is a furrowing of brows, of bewilderment and horror and the strangeness of attraction towards those swaddled bundles she holds whilst voices engaged in a row heat the atmosphere in rooms over. Alucard stops, captivated by a disbelieving sight before him. He stops short, and he pauses tall above them. There is a voice that should speak and words that should be spoken, and he pauses, the damage of the year past flowing dauntlessly within his mind.

  "Mina...?"

[calisvol]

memento mori--; (closed rp]

     ( Ω ]--; The Messiah Betwixt. The maiden betwixt whom had retained her Humanity yet while being an incomplete Draculina. She was part of the Devil's Trine, the trio of women he'd come to realize had completed the nothingness that had plagued him all his life. He had nothing, and was nothing. But the Lord God was nothingness, and the Lord created and destroyed and was neither good nor evil; Scholomance had taught him this. But within the permeating darkness of Germany's Dark Forest, he was here with a dark purpose. The flames of Millennium's war had been quelled long ago, not even a few years ago. They were gone, eradicated and besmirched from the very planet. He knew, for the Bastards of the Last battalion were among those who writhed and begged forgiveness from God for forsaking their humanity and regretting it immensely. They were among those he slaughtered, for every day-time waking into this realm, he became the tyrant of their oppression. But within the groves and copses and endless swaths of verdant expanse, there lay a place, where Operation Valkyrie had almost been successful in assassinating Hitler. It had failed, but therein lay a bunker. One of which was the final resting place of of his quandary. Blackened leather inflamed about him in life of their own as he moved through the silence of the forest, desolation teeming and abounding within such solace. Mina Harker. He knew that she was here; or rather, what was left of her. The war was over. They'd had her for far too long now. And he was here to collect. For within the nocturnal retinue of the night, he knew he would find her. The impure blood of the Dracul called to him, and her taint was more recognizable to him than even Seras'. For it was not on the whims of a lover that he came; it was something else entirely. 

And within the darkness of the underground compound, the bunker therein secreted the remnants of a once enormous zeppelin; or rather, the desecrated vestiges of one. Corrugated steel lanced and eviscerated structure perturbed into the form of a maw, as though belonging to a dragon. However, intents darkened as shadow matter congealed and gathered as a miasma that blithely consumed the metal in soulless and headless consumption, eroding away until the structure buckled, supported only by the appendages of shadow that supported them still. And there she was. Forgotten, abandoned, left to die. But, oh, she wasn't dead; not yet. The skeleton found by the Doctor seemed to have been a successful ruse, the mummified one before him taken into his arms as he genuflected. Cradled loosely in one arm, tawny extrusions fell limp and crinkled within the decaying bandages, Alucard chuckling to himself. "It seems to have worked, didn't it, dear Mina?" he intoned within the deafening silence, acerbity of metal only intensified as he sank his fangs into pallid flesh and drew blood. Droplets beaded, and he suspended his wrist above her mouth where decayed lips withdrew grotesquely from blanched teeth. Droplets fell, and accumulated there, and he waited, patiently, for the restorative effects to bring the pillar of the Band of Heroes back to life.