I Have Returned
Well, it's been a while, and the past few months I've been using this journal just to post in communities. But, now that I've got my writing mojo back, expect slightly more regular updates. In the next few days I'll be posting the first chapter of a new original story that I'm really excited about. For the moment it's titled 'The Pursuit of Grandeur', but I've changed that multiple times since I first came up with the idea.
Meanwhile, please 'enjoy' this Hellsing drabble. And by enjoy, I mean feel nicely depressed. In all seriousness, though, I'd really love some feedback on this fic. It's one of those things you write at one in the morning and then get really annoyed that there's no one to talk to about it.
(X-posted everywhere.)
Surely, then, this would be enough. London lay in rubble at their feet, and Walter lay dead and discarded in the mass of bodies that stretched forever; not that she would have recognized him as he was in any case. It all seemed so utterly, undeniably perfect. Integra was walking toward him from the dilapidated zeppelin with the merest hints of sunrise glowing behind her. Her head was upright, her stride was confident and if not for the tears in her clothes and the blood on her gloves she could have seemed to all the world to be going about business as usual. But he knew better. No one but her servant could have seen the pain in her eyes, felt the exhaustion in her steps that threatened to bring her to her knees.
But he smiled. She could not how close her salvation was, how soon he would let her rest, how soon he would give her all his strength and make her the master of his blood forever. It was so close, because surely, surely this would be enough for Van Hellsing. If not this, what could possibly satisfy the man's requirements for a trustworthy, eternal master? If she did not give in to him now, when everything, everything else that had ever given her solace, had ever given her pleasure lay in this rubble of their own creation; what in all of his immortality could ever, possibly break her? Yes, as the dawn approached them, her triumph was near.
He bowed low as she came to her, and the courtesy seemed almost comical to him in the midst of this unmannered wasteland. He rose and met her eyes.
“My master, what is your order?” his voice dripped with unmasked anticipation. Who knew what she made of it, but she would understand soon. So very, very soon. He would save her. He would take away all her regret, all her pain and desperation. He would give her the pleasure and the indulgence that she could never have allowed herself to feel. All the rest that she had denied herself, he would give to her now and for the remainder of eternity. His master, forever beautiful, forever unyielding in her strength, he would give that to her and her alone. He watched her now, in the final moment of her trial, watched her eyes focus on his own as though nothing remained but him, as nothing did.
“It's over, Alucard. There is no point in continuing, now.”
He paused in a moment of uncertainty, such an unfamiliar feeling to him now.
“I am finished with this. Kill me, Alucard. That is my order.” With these words, a long moment passed in the time that he knew could not have existed. When it ended a terrible cry of rage erupted from the monster as every conceivable piece of his being and the of million others that were just as much himself struck outwards in blind desperation. She had failed, she had given in. Just as her father had done, just as her grandfather had done, she had lost to him. Bur she was not like them, she had never been anything like them. She alone had he truly loved as his master, it was only this master that could have even taken his blood and his power and retained her incredible, steadfast beauty. She alone he had truly called his. He fought out with all of himself against the fuzzy calm that was overtaking him, just as any man, beast or monster will struggle against that sort of inevitable fate. A sense of panic and dread overtook him as he imagined himself awakening from his sleep again as Abraham's controls dictated he must. He thought of awakening to a new master who meant nothing at all, with Integra gone from him forever. It had been so very perfect. For that man to defeat him would have been nothing, no sin could ever be committed against a monster. But if any justice remained in heaven, he would pay for this. Even in failing to defeat his intended target their German relic of an enemy to 'God, queen and country' had committed a crime which no justice could overlook. That man had defeated his master.
Meanwhile, please 'enjoy' this Hellsing drabble. And by enjoy, I mean feel nicely depressed. In all seriousness, though, I'd really love some feedback on this fic. It's one of those things you write at one in the morning and then get really annoyed that there's no one to talk to about it.
(X-posted everywhere.)
Surely, then, this would be enough. London lay in rubble at their feet, and Walter lay dead and discarded in the mass of bodies that stretched forever; not that she would have recognized him as he was in any case. It all seemed so utterly, undeniably perfect. Integra was walking toward him from the dilapidated zeppelin with the merest hints of sunrise glowing behind her. Her head was upright, her stride was confident and if not for the tears in her clothes and the blood on her gloves she could have seemed to all the world to be going about business as usual. But he knew better. No one but her servant could have seen the pain in her eyes, felt the exhaustion in her steps that threatened to bring her to her knees.
But he smiled. She could not how close her salvation was, how soon he would let her rest, how soon he would give her all his strength and make her the master of his blood forever. It was so close, because surely, surely this would be enough for Van Hellsing. If not this, what could possibly satisfy the man's requirements for a trustworthy, eternal master? If she did not give in to him now, when everything, everything else that had ever given her solace, had ever given her pleasure lay in this rubble of their own creation; what in all of his immortality could ever, possibly break her? Yes, as the dawn approached them, her triumph was near.
He bowed low as she came to her, and the courtesy seemed almost comical to him in the midst of this unmannered wasteland. He rose and met her eyes.
“My master, what is your order?” his voice dripped with unmasked anticipation. Who knew what she made of it, but she would understand soon. So very, very soon. He would save her. He would take away all her regret, all her pain and desperation. He would give her the pleasure and the indulgence that she could never have allowed herself to feel. All the rest that she had denied herself, he would give to her now and for the remainder of eternity. His master, forever beautiful, forever unyielding in her strength, he would give that to her and her alone. He watched her now, in the final moment of her trial, watched her eyes focus on his own as though nothing remained but him, as nothing did.
“It's over, Alucard. There is no point in continuing, now.”
He paused in a moment of uncertainty, such an unfamiliar feeling to him now.
“I am finished with this. Kill me, Alucard. That is my order.” With these words, a long moment passed in the time that he knew could not have existed. When it ended a terrible cry of rage erupted from the monster as every conceivable piece of his being and the of million others that were just as much himself struck outwards in blind desperation. She had failed, she had given in. Just as her father had done, just as her grandfather had done, she had lost to him. Bur she was not like them, she had never been anything like them. She alone had he truly loved as his master, it was only this master that could have even taken his blood and his power and retained her incredible, steadfast beauty. She alone he had truly called his. He fought out with all of himself against the fuzzy calm that was overtaking him, just as any man, beast or monster will struggle against that sort of inevitable fate. A sense of panic and dread overtook him as he imagined himself awakening from his sleep again as Abraham's controls dictated he must. He thought of awakening to a new master who meant nothing at all, with Integra gone from him forever. It had been so very perfect. For that man to defeat him would have been nothing, no sin could ever be committed against a monster. But if any justice remained in heaven, he would pay for this. Even in failing to defeat his intended target their German relic of an enemy to 'God, queen and country' had committed a crime which no justice could overlook. That man had defeated his master.