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It does make him feel safe, when Georg wraps him up this way. He leans against the older vampire's chest, not crying, but certainly shaken. For all the good that came of it, eventually...that was one of the scariest things he has ever felt. He doesn't say it, he can't - the worst part of it, the part where he wanted to hurt someone, anyone. It makes him sick to think about.
He shakes his head, burying his face in Georg's chest and murmuring, muffled, into the soft fabric of his clothes.
"It wasn't your fault. I was hiding it, from all of you. I promise, I'll never do that again. Never."
He shakes his head, burying his face in Georg's chest and murmuring, muffled, into the soft fabric of his clothes.
"It wasn't your fault. I was hiding it, from all of you. I promise, I'll never do that again. Never."
Georg is... nervous. If his heart could beat, it would be hammering out of his chest. He'd clipped a bouquet of roses from his garden; gorgeous deep red blooms, fading to black around the edges of the petals. He'd taken the time and care to remove each and every thorn, so Alfred was in no danger of pricking his fingers. He'd even asked Herbert for one of his hair ribbons to tie around the stems, who had gladly handed one over when he heard what it was for.
Now all that's left is to actually give them to Alfred.
He takes a deep, unnecessary breath and knocks on Alfred's door.
Now all that's left is to actually give them to Alfred.
He takes a deep, unnecessary breath and knocks on Alfred's door.
"Just a moment!"
The call is light and gentle - Alfred had only been tidying up, sweeping his floor of thread cuttings from some recent embroidery and not deeply entrenched in any one task. It only takes a few seconds for him to set the broom aside, opening his door with a little smile. He's expecting Herbert - and so it's with surprise that he finds Georg standing there.
"Ah - Georg, hallo. What can I do for you?" His smile is fond, sweet, slightly crooked in its bemusement. They spend time together now, here and there, but...it's still infrequent that the Count comes to Alfred's room.
The call is light and gentle - Alfred had only been tidying up, sweeping his floor of thread cuttings from some recent embroidery and not deeply entrenched in any one task. It only takes a few seconds for him to set the broom aside, opening his door with a little smile. He's expecting Herbert - and so it's with surprise that he finds Georg standing there.
"Ah - Georg, hallo. What can I do for you?" His smile is fond, sweet, slightly crooked in its bemusement. They spend time together now, here and there, but...it's still infrequent that the Count comes to Alfred's room.
"Good evening, Alfred." He's holding the flowers behind his back like a nervous schoolboy. Hoping that Alfred will truly like them, and not just accept them to be polite.
But the sight of him, his little crooked smile, warms Georg's heart and he can't quite help but smile a little in return. "I have something for you, actually.
The roses in the garden are in bloom, and I thought perhaps you might enjoy having some in your room," he says, taking them out from behind his back and presenting them to Alfred with a slight bow.
But the sight of him, his little crooked smile, warms Georg's heart and he can't quite help but smile a little in return. "I have something for you, actually.
The roses in the garden are in bloom, and I thought perhaps you might enjoy having some in your room," he says, taking them out from behind his back and presenting them to Alfred with a slight bow.
That's funny, Alfred can feel - nervousness, coming off of the much older vampire. It's something that he picks up on now and again, but not quite like this, not this jittery, fluttery sort of feeling that would feel more at home in the younger vampire. He nods to the greeting, opening his mouth to reply -
But then Georg is offering him a bouquet of roses, and he stops short, face lighting with surprise. It's such an earnest gesture, so sweet and attentive, and personal. The shock shifts to a flustered grin, color rushing to his cheeks.
"Oh, Georg, these are - they're beautiful! Thank you," he chirps, plainly touched by the gesture. He reaches out to take them, making a point of touching the Count's hand in the process, and then leaning further forward still to place a sweet little kiss on his cheek. "I've...never had anyone give me flowers before."
Herbert had given him so much, of course, but...flowers are a little different than what Herbert usually does. Perhaps it's that fresh flowers feel too short lived for him, or perhaps superstition stays his hand. Whatever it is, Alfred doesn't question it.
But this is very sweet, and it feels...well, it feels like Georg opening up, just a little more.
"Would you like to come in and sit with me?"
But then Georg is offering him a bouquet of roses, and he stops short, face lighting with surprise. It's such an earnest gesture, so sweet and attentive, and personal. The shock shifts to a flustered grin, color rushing to his cheeks.
"Oh, Georg, these are - they're beautiful! Thank you," he chirps, plainly touched by the gesture. He reaches out to take them, making a point of touching the Count's hand in the process, and then leaning further forward still to place a sweet little kiss on his cheek. "I've...never had anyone give me flowers before."
Herbert had given him so much, of course, but...flowers are a little different than what Herbert usually does. Perhaps it's that fresh flowers feel too short lived for him, or perhaps superstition stays his hand. Whatever it is, Alfred doesn't question it.
But this is very sweet, and it feels...well, it feels like Georg opening up, just a little more.
"Would you like to come in and sit with me?"
"I took the thorns off," he points out, gesturing to the clean stems. "I didn't want them to sting you."
The nerves are still there, and the touch and the kiss pull him up short, and he blinks rapidly in surprise, lashes fluttering. "Yes -- yes of course I'll come sit with you.
But you like them? Truly?" he asks, moving further into the room and closing the door behind him. Alfred is a tricky one. Sarah, he can spoil easily, with clothing and things for the bath. But Herbert already gives Alfred clothing, and Alfred doesn't seem to... to need anything. Or to know how to want it. And so Georg will simply have to spend more time with him and learn more about him, so he can properly spoil him like he so badly wants to.
The nerves are still there, and the touch and the kiss pull him up short, and he blinks rapidly in surprise, lashes fluttering. "Yes -- yes of course I'll come sit with you.
But you like them? Truly?" he asks, moving further into the room and closing the door behind him. Alfred is a tricky one. Sarah, he can spoil easily, with clothing and things for the bath. But Herbert already gives Alfred clothing, and Alfred doesn't seem to... to need anything. Or to know how to want it. And so Georg will simply have to spend more time with him and learn more about him, so he can properly spoil him like he so badly wants to.
Alfred marvels at the missing thorns once they are pointed out - the attention to detail that displays, the caring. He beams back at Georg while he crosses his room to fetch a vase, propping the roses in a place on honor on his desk.
"I love them, Georg - they are very pretty, and...and I'm really touched, that you would go to the trouble for me." He walks back over to the other vampire, reaching out in that gentle way he does to stroke at the dark hair that tumbles forward over his shoulders.
"Thank you."
"I love them, Georg - they are very pretty, and...and I'm really touched, that you would go to the trouble for me." He walks back over to the other vampire, reaching out in that gentle way he does to stroke at the dark hair that tumbles forward over his shoulders.
"Thank you."
"I'm so glad that you do." He sounds relieved, that Alfred likes his gift. And then Alfred is touching his hair, and he sways into Alfred's space a little, leaning their foreheads together. "I wanted you to be able to touch them. To hold them, if you liked. The petals have a wonderful, soft texture."
He rests his hand against Alfred's arm, letting them simply be close to each other for now. "You're worth the trouble."
He rests his hand against Alfred's arm, letting them simply be close to each other for now. "You're worth the trouble."
"You're incredibly thoughtful, Georg. I..I love them, I really do." I love you, too.
For a long moment, Alfred leans into the touch, lightly shutting his eyes as he listens to the sweet things the older vampire is saying. They've been getting closer, gradually, but...outside of intimacy, Georg is so guarded, so withdrawn with his real feelings. This moment, though, he feels...different.
Slitting his eyes open again, he murmurs, softly and sweetly.
"...May I...do something for you, Georg? I...I would like to brush your hair out for you. If that's all right."
For a long moment, Alfred leans into the touch, lightly shutting his eyes as he listens to the sweet things the older vampire is saying. They've been getting closer, gradually, but...outside of intimacy, Georg is so guarded, so withdrawn with his real feelings. This moment, though, he feels...different.
Slitting his eyes open again, he murmurs, softly and sweetly.
"...May I...do something for you, Georg? I...I would like to brush your hair out for you. If that's all right."
"My hair?" He doesn't do much at all with his hair. Not like Herbert does. He brushes it back out of his face and that's about it.
The count is incredibly touched by the offer, and slides his hand up Alfred's shoulder to squeeze it lightly. Wanting to keep this closeness. "I don't think anyone has brushed my hair for me in... I suppose nearly three hundred years now. But -- I would like that. Very much."
The count is incredibly touched by the offer, and slides his hand up Alfred's shoulder to squeeze it lightly. Wanting to keep this closeness. "I don't think anyone has brushed my hair for me in... I suppose nearly three hundred years now. But -- I would like that. Very much."
Alfred's shoulder is strong and steady under Georg's hand - gone are the days when he shook under the Count's touch, when he cowered back when he got unexpectedly close. He's come to welcome it now, the dark bloom he feels in his heart, so much like those roses on his desk.
He marvels at the comment - three hundred years. Such a long time. Gently, he guides the hand on his shoulder to grasp his, not breaking contact, but leading him over to sit at his vanity.
"If it's been that long, it's long overdue. Here - sit with me on the bench, and...and if you like, I can hang your cloak up while I do this, just so that your collar is out of the way."
He marvels at the comment - three hundred years. Such a long time. Gently, he guides the hand on his shoulder to grasp his, not breaking contact, but leading him over to sit at his vanity.
"If it's been that long, it's long overdue. Here - sit with me on the bench, and...and if you like, I can hang your cloak up while I do this, just so that your collar is out of the way."
"Oh, yes. Thank you. You're very thoughtful, Alfred." He undoes the clasps of his cloak and hands it over to Alfred before settling on the bench.
"It's probably a bit tangled," he admits, sounding... a little embarrassed, perhaps. He doesn't take as good of care of himself as he should. Not like Herbert does. He stares down at his nails, realizing how clawlike they are. In bad need of some filing and shaping.
How long has he been like this? Too long, perhaps.
"It's probably a bit tangled," he admits, sounding... a little embarrassed, perhaps. He doesn't take as good of care of himself as he should. Not like Herbert does. He stares down at his nails, realizing how clawlike they are. In bad need of some filing and shaping.
How long has he been like this? Too long, perhaps.
"It's nothing, really."
Without hesitating, Alfred carefully drapes the cloak over his arm, walking it over to his coatstand to hang it safely and carefully. Every time he handles one of Georg's cloaks, he is always this way - respecting it, respecting what it means and represents to the Count.
Once it's set, he moves to the bench, taking a seat behind Georg and taking up a brush. His voice is very gentle when he speaks, no judgement there.
"It's all right, Georg," he breathes, long, careful fingers sweeping forward to collect the hair he wears tumbling down his chest and pull it back. Before using the brush, he starts with his fingers, very gently pulling loose any little knots and tangles.
He can guess why Georg doesn't do this for himself. It's something he's been meaning to talk to him about, and...perhaps this is a good moment for it.
"...You...you know that I think you're beautiful, don't you?"
Without hesitating, Alfred carefully drapes the cloak over his arm, walking it over to his coatstand to hang it safely and carefully. Every time he handles one of Georg's cloaks, he is always this way - respecting it, respecting what it means and represents to the Count.
Once it's set, he moves to the bench, taking a seat behind Georg and taking up a brush. His voice is very gentle when he speaks, no judgement there.
"It's all right, Georg," he breathes, long, careful fingers sweeping forward to collect the hair he wears tumbling down his chest and pull it back. Before using the brush, he starts with his fingers, very gently pulling loose any little knots and tangles.
He can guess why Georg doesn't do this for himself. It's something he's been meaning to talk to him about, and...perhaps this is a good moment for it.
"...You...you know that I think you're beautiful, don't you?"
Since the loss of his wife, he's never let anyone do this for him. Not even Herbert, who offered when he was in some of his darkest days, to draw him a bath or at least brush his hair out for him. He had refused it all. He was a monster, he didn't deserve such things.
And yet here is this magnificent boy, handling him with such care. As though he was fragile. As though he was worth caring for.
He sits still for Alfred, his fingers touching this mouth briefly in surprise before he folds his hands in his lap while Alfred starts picking out the worst of the tangles with his hands. So gently, so delicately. "I -- thank you. You're very kind. I never considered myself as beautiful. Just an old night bird, skulking through castles and graveyards. Lurking in the shadows. I don't -- sparkle, not like my son does. He favours his mother, as I'm sure you can tell."
And yet here is this magnificent boy, handling him with such care. As though he was fragile. As though he was worth caring for.
He sits still for Alfred, his fingers touching this mouth briefly in surprise before he folds his hands in his lap while Alfred starts picking out the worst of the tangles with his hands. So gently, so delicately. "I -- thank you. You're very kind. I never considered myself as beautiful. Just an old night bird, skulking through castles and graveyards. Lurking in the shadows. I don't -- sparkle, not like my son does. He favours his mother, as I'm sure you can tell."
It's a long moment of consideration before Alfred speaks again - he lets Georg talk it out, lets him say what he's going to say, silently opening his senses to let the older vampire's emotions wash over him. They're dark, so dark...but there's something underneath, glimmers of it slowly showing from the deepest corners.
He's resolved to get to what is underneath, eventually. Like Georg and Herbert have done for him. He's Herbert's sunlight...why not at least offer Georg a candle?
Once the tangles are picked through, Alfred thinks a moment, setting the brush down and taking up a bottle of his own hair oil. The soft, sweet scent of peppermint fills the air as he rubs some onto his hands, then starts working it through Georg's hair to help the tangles slide out more easily.
"You know," he murmurs finally, softly, "All of the birds I have ever seen that come out at night are lovely. Owls, loons, whippoorwills, nightengales. Maybe their feathers aren't as bright, but...I love listening to them. And watching them fly."
Another beat.
"...Just like you."
He's resolved to get to what is underneath, eventually. Like Georg and Herbert have done for him. He's Herbert's sunlight...why not at least offer Georg a candle?
Once the tangles are picked through, Alfred thinks a moment, setting the brush down and taking up a bottle of his own hair oil. The soft, sweet scent of peppermint fills the air as he rubs some onto his hands, then starts working it through Georg's hair to help the tangles slide out more easily.
"You know," he murmurs finally, softly, "All of the birds I have ever seen that come out at night are lovely. Owls, loons, whippoorwills, nightengales. Maybe their feathers aren't as bright, but...I love listening to them. And watching them fly."
Another beat.
"...Just like you."
"Not a bat?" It's a poor joke, but he's trying not to fidget under the compliments. The smell of peppermint is a surprise, but he doesn't mind it. It makes him feel... pampered. It's something he'd never do for himself.
More compliments, and he deflects again, not sure what else to do. "I identify more with the corvid family. Crows, ravens. Magpies, with their tendency to collect pretty things. Often seen as pests."
More compliments, and he deflects again, not sure what else to do. "I identify more with the corvid family. Crows, ravens. Magpies, with their tendency to collect pretty things. Often seen as pests."
The joke doesn't really land, because Alfred knows it's deflection - but still he laughs softly anyway, just so that the older vampire feels responded to. Skilled fingers work the peppermint down to the root, the oil softly cooling and tingly on his skin.
"Corvids are wildly intelligent," he retorts with a wry little smirk. "Some of the most fascinating birds there are."
He's not letting Georg off that easy.
"Corvids are wildly intelligent," he retorts with a wry little smirk. "Some of the most fascinating birds there are."
He's not letting Georg off that easy.
He feels... assaulted, almost. By the compliments. Instinctively mentally jerking away from them, as though they might burn him if thought about too long. Sarah doesn't give many compliments, and that's fine with him. He doesn't need them, doesn't thrive off them like Herbert does.
But Alfred's fingers running through his hair like this feels nice, and he relaxes a little under the touch. "We have a flock of crows in one of the trees in the yard. A murder of crows, I suppose, is the proper term. I'll see if they haven't dropped some feathers lately. If you would like some."
But Alfred's fingers running through his hair like this feels nice, and he relaxes a little under the touch. "We have a flock of crows in one of the trees in the yard. A murder of crows, I suppose, is the proper term. I'll see if they haven't dropped some feathers lately. If you would like some."
It's like brushing against a pincushion, trying to compliment this man. Behind Georg, Alfred's brows furrow together, lips pursing a little.
"...I would love that," he answers, voice soft and light...but then he pushes past it. He is trying to make a point.
"Georg - why are you avoiding what I'm saying?" Surprisingly blunt - not irritated, though. Patient, measured.
"...I would love that," he answers, voice soft and light...but then he pushes past it. He is trying to make a point.
"Georg - why are you avoiding what I'm saying?" Surprisingly blunt - not irritated, though. Patient, measured.
Georg sighs and reaches up to touch one of Alfred's wrists lightly. "I should have known I couldn't fool you. You're far too clever for that, Alfred.
But look at me, Alfred. The things I have done, this -- creature I've become. I've destroyed everything I've tried to hold dear in my life. I do my best to pull myself free of my animalistic nature. To break the chains that hold me back, but they are inked into my skin.
I will never be free of myself. This is my curse."
But look at me, Alfred. The things I have done, this -- creature I've become. I've destroyed everything I've tried to hold dear in my life. I do my best to pull myself free of my animalistic nature. To break the chains that hold me back, but they are inked into my skin.
I will never be free of myself. This is my curse."
His hand stills as Georg touches his wrist - and he stops, he really LISTENS. Not just to the words, but to the way they're said, the feelings behind them. And for an almost painfully long time, he is silent for it, waiting for words to come.
When they do, they tumble out somewhat more frank than he expects.
"I don't like that you talk about yourself that way, Georg." He winces a bit at himself, but...nothing for it but to continue. He sighs a little, moving the free hand out of his hair to rest on his shoulder.
"You say I'm clever. You say I'm attentive, and perceptive, and smart. If that's so - then why would I be telling you these things, if it isn't what I see? I see the ink, I do, but it's not...you're not...." He struggles for a moment, plainly troubled, trying to figure out how to put his thought.
When they do, they tumble out somewhat more frank than he expects.
"I don't like that you talk about yourself that way, Georg." He winces a bit at himself, but...nothing for it but to continue. He sighs a little, moving the free hand out of his hair to rest on his shoulder.
"You say I'm clever. You say I'm attentive, and perceptive, and smart. If that's so - then why would I be telling you these things, if it isn't what I see? I see the ink, I do, but it's not...you're not...." He struggles for a moment, plainly troubled, trying to figure out how to put his thought.
"You are." He's glad Alfred is behind him, because he's not certain he could look at him right now. Not with everything he's feeling not with everything Alfred is bringing out in him. It aches. Like Alfred has carved open his chest to take his heart out and examine it. Not out of malice, but to know him better.
"You are also these things, Alfred, but you are also so, so kind, and so caring. I believe you believe these things of me. Even if they're not true."
"You are also these things, Alfred, but you are also so, so kind, and so caring. I believe you believe these things of me. Even if they're not true."
"STOP IT."
There is a moment - just a moment - when Alfred's words tumble out in a sharp shout, and a pulse radiates through the room. The candles and fire flicker, dampen before returning to normal...the picture frames rattle, the air buzzing for a moment. Maybe that's what makes Alfred recoil, gasp, or maybe it's the shout itself...whatever it is, he immediately shrinks down again, tone fluttering.
"I - I'm sorry- I'm sorry, Georg, I-"
Even with his back turned, the sound of Alfred starting to cry is unmistakable, his hands shaking where they are rested on the older vampire. "...I just...there's so much in you, and I can feel it, I can see it, but...but you...."
He wraps his arms around Georg, embracing him, sobbing into the back of his shirt.
There is a moment - just a moment - when Alfred's words tumble out in a sharp shout, and a pulse radiates through the room. The candles and fire flicker, dampen before returning to normal...the picture frames rattle, the air buzzing for a moment. Maybe that's what makes Alfred recoil, gasp, or maybe it's the shout itself...whatever it is, he immediately shrinks down again, tone fluttering.
"I - I'm sorry- I'm sorry, Georg, I-"
Even with his back turned, the sound of Alfred starting to cry is unmistakable, his hands shaking where they are rested on the older vampire. "...I just...there's so much in you, and I can feel it, I can see it, but...but you...."
He wraps his arms around Georg, embracing him, sobbing into the back of his shirt.
The candles flicker as Alfred shouts, as though afraid of the boy. Georg can feel his anger, his frustration vibrating through him, as sure as he can feel him crying against his back. And so he turns, and wraps Alfred in his arms, pulling him down onto the bench and into his lap.
"I wish, so desperately, that I could see myself the way you see me. If only because it would make you happy."
"I wish, so desperately, that I could see myself the way you see me. If only because it would make you happy."
Alfred is not quick to anger. He's been pushing all his rage down for the last twenty-five years, and he's never felt any the worse for it. But now it feels like a dam has broken, and as he is pulled down into Georg's lap, his tears feel hot, hands balling white-knuckled in the fabric of the older vampire's clothes.
"You will never be able to do that," he sobs, voice croaking, "If you continue being so unkind to yourself. That ink...you're pouring that ink all over YOURSELF, and you can't see that you're holding the bottle!"
He looks up at Georg, blue eyes blazing.
"I don't want you to treat yourself better for me...I'm crying because you are hurting, and I love you."
"You will never be able to do that," he sobs, voice croaking, "If you continue being so unkind to yourself. That ink...you're pouring that ink all over YOURSELF, and you can't see that you're holding the bottle!"
He looks up at Georg, blue eyes blazing.
"I don't want you to treat yourself better for me...I'm crying because you are hurting, and I love you."
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