In spite of the vampire patriarch's attestations that it was fine, he still feels a wild spike of anxiety at being caught in an embarrassing moment - he stares, doe-eyed, as he takes a step away from the now-crooked armor.
"Please -- " He holds up a hand as though to stem Alfred's protestations. "You may call me Georg, if you'd like. It would be silly to hold you to a title, when you're a member of the household. Perhaps one day, you, too, will refer to me as Father.
And it is loud, yes. Deafeningly loud, to those like us. You're simply not used to, not yet, all of your new gifts. Heightened senses being just one. Why, if you listen closely, you can here a moth's wing at the other end of the castle, I wouldn't wonder."
"All right...Co- uh - Georg," he stammers, looking no less terrified than when the conversation began. Never mind the implication in saying he may someday call the Count 'Father,' which reddens his face and makes him fidget with his fingers in front of him.
It's true, the enhanced senses are...a lot to get used to. Both the overload that comes with everything suddenly being so loud, so bright, smelling so strongly - and the realization of how easy it must have been this whole time for the vampires to hear him here from the start.
"It's been a little...overwhelming, yes. It's gotten...a little moreso every time I've...fed."
If only talking to the Count would get a bit easier. Alfred can't help but feel a little weird about everything, seeing as he and the Professor had fairly ruined the ball just a few days ago.
"And so it will continue to be," he nods, reaching out to give Alfred a pat on the shoulder. An attempt at a fatherly gesture towards the one his son holds so dearly. "You may, of course, ask me anything you like about being the way that we are.
Though my dear son tells me he's being doing his best to give you at least some guidance?" He arches an eyebrow, steepling his fingers together and considering the young vampire. He himself has been occupied with teaching Sarah their ways, of course, but. He ought to take some time for Alfred, as well. After all, it was his own young fledgling that nearly drained him dry and got him into this situation. He ought to take some more responsibility.
In spite of himself, he flinches at the pat, grinning a dopey, anxious little grin that shows off his slightly lopsided fangs; he still hasn't quite got the knack of retracting both of them yet after feeding.
Georg is being kind, he knows, and he tries his hardest not to offend...hoping that if he can look into Alfred's nature itself, he understands that the boy can't help but be nervous.
"Herbert has been an incredible amount of help," he squeaks, clearing his throat. "He's taught me so much - is still teaching me so much."
That said...
"...Actually, there is...something I wondered about. When I first got here." A fidget with his suspender. "Did...did you...hypnotize me? I remember feeling...strange."
What he remembers is feeling calm - but for him, that is strange.
"That is one of my powers, yes." Which doesn't answer Alfred's question, not exactly. Not that he's avoiding it, just that he's trying his best to word it in a way that won't make Alfred nervous.
That that is, perhaps, an impossibility.
"I wanted to make certain you would stay and listen to what I had to stay, rathe than be distracted by going off after your professor. So I simply... held you in place for a moment. Nothing sinister in intent, I promise you."
At this, Alfred stands before the much older vampire, big blue eyes wide and just...staring. It doesn't seem like he's going to react beyond a little bit of anxiety, maybe a mute little nod.
But then, being as powerful as Krolock is, he would feel it. Soft, tentative, but...something, reaching forward, soft as a kitten's paw, tapping up against the edge of his consciousness. The source of the feeling doesn't know - all he knows is that he's scrutinizing the answer, trying to feel out the level of sincerity with a bit of furrow in his brow.
When the feeling subsides, Alfred nods once, letting out a little sigh, habit more than necessity.
"All right," he says simply. "I...I just wanted to make sure...that was what it was. What I felt."
A pause.
"You were...you were nice to me, even though you knew what I was here for. Why?"
... oh, how interesting. The young vampire seems to have picked up a not dissimilar gift. But, being so young, is still getting used to it. Georg will let the boy test the waters on his own. Stretch his wings, so to speak.
"There is something in you, Alfred. Something that draws you to the darkness. To our way of life. I spoke of your curiosity, which is perhaps why you felt compelled to join the professor, but never could quite turn yourself against us. Had you ever wondered why you were so good at learning about us, but when it came to destroying us, could never bring yourself to do so?"
Naturally, Alfred is clueless to the revelation - he just listens now to what Georg has to say, twiddling his fingers about in front of him. His nails are growing faster, he's noticed, so he files them every night...but tonight, he hasn't yet, and he's acutely aware of the sharp edge.
...Drawn to the darkness. This sentiment gives the young vampire pause. He's always thought of himself as a morning person, someone who is productive, shining in the light of the day -
But when he stops to think about it, really think about it?
It's always been by night that he's been himself, darning and reading by candlelight with no expectation as to what he should be doing, what he should be thinking. The days have always been for everyone else...but the nights?
The nights have been his for a long time now.
"...Oh." Another word more breath than sound - a soft hiss. His expression goes from anxiety to something altogether different, a sort of contemplation he doesn't normally wear in front of others.
"Yes, now you see it." Georg gives Alfred a smile, wide and full of fangs. "You have always belonged with us, Alfred. It just took you some time to find your way to us." He reaches out to stroke his finger lightly over Alfred's jaw; first one side, then the other. Watching his expression.
While the whole concept is alarming - it should be alarming, shouldn't it? - Alfred finds himself...calmer, now. There's a moment where he wonders if he's being mesmerized again, especially at the touch, looking up at the Count curiously; but no, he feels like himself. Just...at peace.
It feels right, this, doesn't it? His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't cringe away, meeting Georg's eyes dead-on.
"...Thank you," he murmurs, voice quiet, fangs still new enough to make him lisp a little. "I...I told Herbert, the first night. I want to stay here. I...I'm...thankful, after everything, that you let me."
"You did make this year's ball very interesting," he says with an amused half smile, tapping Alfred's chin lightly before he takes his hand away completely.
"Herbert..." the Count sighs, spreading his hands in a What can you do? sort of gesture. "I spoil him, I know I do. But he's treating you well, it seems like. And he is absolutely smitten with you. You were all he talked about, after he first saw you. How the snowflakes clung to your lashes, how delicate and lovely you looked. He is... very used to getting what he wants. And I will admit, I do not deny him much."
When the hand is pulled away, Alfred clears his throat a little, a nervous little sound as his posture closes back up to his more common, slightly pigeon-toed stance. Taking up as little space as he can.
And he reddens when he is told about how much Herbert adores him...still unused to being wanted, let alone coveted.
But something about the way Georg is speaking about his son needles him, and he can't quite place what. "...Well, I'm grateful for him. For his help."
A pause.
"...What has he...told you? About the night I turned?"
The Count gestures broadly, indicating everything and nothing at the same time. "He did say what Sarah had done to you. My fledgling's actions are... regrettable. I am deeply sorry that she left you there in the snow. I've spoken with her since then about not acting so impulsively. I will continue to teach her to try curb her appetite, as we all do.
He told me you turned up at our doorstep, and he was able to help you to his crypt before sunrise. I cannot express how pleased I am, that he was able to assist you that night."
Ah, there it is. Like Alfred suspected...he doesn't know the whole of it. Herbert didn't tell him, and so the Count is only surprised he was any help.
For a moment, he purses his lips. Thinking. (And trying to brush off any thoughts of Sarah. Not the point.)
"... It's more than that," he begins, slowly, his tone level and serious. "He fed me his blood, because...Sarah didn't. I almost didn't wake up. I turned...a little bit wrong, I think, because Sarah was new too." Emboldened by hypothesis, he continues, gesturing with his hands while he talks.
"I saw Death. They asked me to come with them, and I saw Herbert crying over me, and I...I found a tether. We're connected. He didn't just assist me...Herbert saved my life. Er. You know what I mean."
Maybe that was.....a little mouthy, he realizes, going a little red.
A tether. Something linking Alfred to his son. How interesting. He hadn't realized that his son could be so... well to weep over the boy shows a lot more depth than George thought his son capable of. Perhaps Herbert truly does love the boy. Wouldn't that be wonderful?
"She shouldn't have done that, and I hope you can accept my apologies on her behalf. I am glad, truly, that my son was able to bring you back. That is how a vampire is meant to turn, all things being ideal. To be bitten, and then to drink their maker's blood. I suppose that makes Herbert your maker. Your true maker."
Georg rest a hand against his chest, eyebrows arched in surprise at the outburst. But not displeased, not really. The first few days are an adjustment.
"There's no need to apologize, dear boy. I know you weren't turned under the most ideal of circumstances, so it's good that you have someone to guide you.
He is treating you well, yes? Attending to your needs?" His son can be a little selfish at times, Georg feels. A little self-centred. And he'd never had a lover who had been turned, before. It's quite a big commitment, after so long of having strings of fleeting affairs.
It's plain from the twitch across the young man's face when the hand shoots to Krolock's chest that he is waiting for admonishment - and when it never comes, his shoulders drop in relief and guilt in equal measure.
"O-okay. It's - it's been so confusing, even with the guidance. I feel...out of control, sometimes."
A long, steadying breath - that, of course, he absolutely does not need, and that makes him cough a little. Whoops.
"He is. He really is, and then some. I'm actually... I'm not used to it all. I'm used to being the one to take care of everyone else. But he's been...."
Alfred looks off into the middle distance for a moment, lost a little in thought with a tiny smile crossing his lips.
Not the look of someone putting up with someone, for certain.
"Of course. You're very young. Both as a mortal, and now as a vampire. It's understandable that your emotions are running wild. You body is going through changes; soon you won't need to breathe at all. Or feel the desire to. Soon, you'll crave the moon and its darkness as though it were the sun. You'll learn to appreciate the stars in all their beauty.
But it will take time."
That smile. Oh, he's seen that kind of smile; soft and sweet and utterly fond. Perhaps this boy loves his son, then, too. "I'm happy to hear it. He is a sweet boy, at his heart. Though he has a tendency towards the dramatic, I fear."
He knows he has time, he knows that. And getting to know the moon, the stars...that all sounds lovely. The newness, though, the flares in his temper and the sharp edges on her personality becoming more and more obvious? He's less sure how he feels about those. He's always been known for being sweet, soft, kind; it's unsettling, knowing......there may be something darker inside himself.
Alfred doesn't know what he feels for Herbert yet - it's confusing, a muddle of guilt, shame, hope, and joy. But if the Count peeks into him, he will definitely detect the scent of roses, winding in and out of all stray thoughts in the boy's mind.
A laugh escapes him, nervous as it is, at the Count's joke.
And then he realizes it isn't a joke.
"Ahem. Ah. It's all right. It's...it's never boring."
Georg laughs as well, perhaps because he feels he should, his fangs flashing in the candlelight. Though he's not quite sure what they're both laughing at.
"Boring is not a word I'd use to describe my son, certainly." And at the mention of Herbert, the scent of roses that seems to settle like a haze over Alfred's mind grows stronger. "He's always been just as he is."
Okay, good, he's laughing too. That at least takes some of the embarrassment off of Alfred, who eases a little.
And yes, sure as anything, when he thinks of Herbert, talks about him, there is a surge within him - a warmth, thoughts that nag and coil and don't seem to want to rest.The heady scent of roses, the flash of his smile, the feeling of his arms as he spent the darkest moments of his young life wondering if it was over.
Absently, he reaches up to rub at his throat, where the tether had been.
All thoughts that feel so different than his thoughts of Sarah had been. Why? He still doesn't quite know.
Now isn't the time, but still, that wistful little smile grows a bit.
"I can't really...imagine him another way. I feel...like he is just... comfortable in who he is. And has been for a long time."
Alfred is jealous of that, actually, if he admits it to himself.
"You care for him." His smile this time is soft, fond. Not judging in the least, for how could he judge? He's loved many men, in his centuries on this planet. He's happy for Herbert, he truly is, to have found someone who thinks about him like this. Someone who always has him in mind, in some way. How wonderful.
"And from the way he talks about you, I can see how much he cares about you, in return."
The young vampire snaps his attention to the Count with a start, pausing for a long moment. The sentiment said out loud, hanging there, all those complicated feelings wound up into simple words.
His eyes flick this way and that as he processes them...and then, softly, as if admitting to himself as well:
"Yes...I do care for him."
There is a rush in saying it for himself, a little color rising to his cheeks, but not in embarrassment. Thoughtfully, he takes a step forward, towards the Count, looking up at him.
"I don't know if you know this, but...before this, I didn't have anyone. No friends, unless you call the Professor one. My mother died some time ago, and my father...we grew apart. I have no siblings, I have never dated anyone. I was alone. So to have someone who cares... it's new. It's nice."
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In spite of the vampire patriarch's attestations that it was fine, he still feels a wild spike of anxiety at being caught in an embarrassing moment - he stares, doe-eyed, as he takes a step away from the now-crooked armor.
He's not quite...used to him, yet.
"That was so loud, I...I got...startled...."
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And it is loud, yes. Deafeningly loud, to those like us. You're simply not used to, not yet, all of your new gifts. Heightened senses being just one. Why, if you listen closely, you can here a moth's wing at the other end of the castle, I wouldn't wonder."
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It's true, the enhanced senses are...a lot to get used to. Both the overload that comes with everything suddenly being so loud, so bright, smelling so strongly - and the realization of how easy it must have been this whole time for the vampires to hear him here from the start.
"It's been a little...overwhelming, yes. It's gotten...a little moreso every time I've...fed."
If only talking to the Count would get a bit easier. Alfred can't help but feel a little weird about everything, seeing as he and the Professor had fairly ruined the ball just a few days ago.
Also, the guy is just...kind of a lot.
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Though my dear son tells me he's being doing his best to give you at least some guidance?" He arches an eyebrow, steepling his fingers together and considering the young vampire. He himself has been occupied with teaching Sarah their ways, of course, but. He ought to take some time for Alfred, as well. After all, it was his own young fledgling that nearly drained him dry and got him into this situation. He ought to take some more responsibility.
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Georg is being kind, he knows, and he tries his hardest not to offend...hoping that if he can look into Alfred's nature itself, he understands that the boy can't help but be nervous.
"Herbert has been an incredible amount of help," he squeaks, clearing his throat. "He's taught me so much - is still teaching me so much."
That said...
"...Actually, there is...something I wondered about. When I first got here." A fidget with his suspender. "Did...did you...hypnotize me? I remember feeling...strange."
What he remembers is feeling calm - but for him, that is strange.
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That that is, perhaps, an impossibility.
"I wanted to make certain you would stay and listen to what I had to stay, rathe than be distracted by going off after your professor. So I simply... held you in place for a moment. Nothing sinister in intent, I promise you."
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But then, being as powerful as Krolock is, he would feel it. Soft, tentative, but...something, reaching forward, soft as a kitten's paw, tapping up against the edge of his consciousness. The source of the feeling doesn't know - all he knows is that he's scrutinizing the answer, trying to feel out the level of sincerity with a bit of furrow in his brow.
When the feeling subsides, Alfred nods once, letting out a little sigh, habit more than necessity.
"All right," he says simply. "I...I just wanted to make sure...that was what it was. What I felt."
A pause.
"You were...you were nice to me, even though you knew what I was here for. Why?"
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"There is something in you, Alfred. Something that draws you to the darkness. To our way of life. I spoke of your curiosity, which is perhaps why you felt compelled to join the professor, but never could quite turn yourself against us. Had you ever wondered why you were so good at learning about us, but when it came to destroying us, could never bring yourself to do so?"
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...Drawn to the darkness. This sentiment gives the young vampire pause. He's always thought of himself as a morning person, someone who is productive, shining in the light of the day -
But when he stops to think about it, really think about it?
It's always been by night that he's been himself, darning and reading by candlelight with no expectation as to what he should be doing, what he should be thinking. The days have always been for everyone else...but the nights?
The nights have been his for a long time now.
"...Oh." Another word more breath than sound - a soft hiss. His expression goes from anxiety to something altogether different, a sort of contemplation he doesn't normally wear in front of others.
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"The night is yours, Alfred. Embrace it."
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It feels right, this, doesn't it? His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't cringe away, meeting Georg's eyes dead-on.
"...Thank you," he murmurs, voice quiet, fangs still new enough to make him lisp a little. "I...I told Herbert, the first night. I want to stay here. I...I'm...thankful, after everything, that you let me."
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"Herbert..." the Count sighs, spreading his hands in a What can you do? sort of gesture. "I spoil him, I know I do. But he's treating you well, it seems like. And he is absolutely smitten with you. You were all he talked about, after he first saw you. How the snowflakes clung to your lashes, how delicate and lovely you looked. He is... very used to getting what he wants. And I will admit, I do not deny him much."
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And he reddens when he is told about how much Herbert adores him...still unused to being wanted, let alone coveted.
But something about the way Georg is speaking about his son needles him, and he can't quite place what. "...Well, I'm grateful for him. For his help."
A pause.
"...What has he...told you? About the night I turned?"
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He told me you turned up at our doorstep, and he was able to help you to his crypt before sunrise. I cannot express how pleased I am, that he was able to assist you that night."
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For a moment, he purses his lips. Thinking. (And trying to brush off any thoughts of Sarah. Not the point.)
"... It's more than that," he begins, slowly, his tone level and serious. "He fed me his blood, because...Sarah didn't. I almost didn't wake up. I turned...a little bit wrong, I think, because Sarah was new too." Emboldened by hypothesis, he continues, gesturing with his hands while he talks.
"I saw Death. They asked me to come with them, and I saw Herbert crying over me, and I...I found a tether. We're connected. He didn't just assist me...Herbert saved my life. Er. You know what I mean."
Maybe that was.....a little mouthy, he realizes, going a little red.
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"She shouldn't have done that, and I hope you can accept my apologies on her behalf. I am glad, truly, that my son was able to bring you back. That is how a vampire is meant to turn, all things being ideal. To be bitten, and then to drink their maker's blood. I suppose that makes Herbert your maker. Your true maker."
How interesting, indeed.
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The words come out a little more forcefully than he is expecting - he himself looks startled afterward, eyes darting downward in a measure of shame.
"S-sorry, Georg, I don't know what just came over me. I just...I mean I'm glad it was him. He's been very helpful, and so kind, a-and patient."
Briefly, he looks a little unwell, rubbing his temple. His ears are ringing, whether it be from embarrassment or...something else.
"...Sir."
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"There's no need to apologize, dear boy. I know you weren't turned under the most ideal of circumstances, so it's good that you have someone to guide you.
He is treating you well, yes? Attending to your needs?" His son can be a little selfish at times, Georg feels. A little self-centred. And he'd never had a lover who had been turned, before. It's quite a big commitment, after so long of having strings of fleeting affairs.
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"O-okay. It's - it's been so confusing, even with the guidance. I feel...out of control, sometimes."
A long, steadying breath - that, of course, he absolutely does not need, and that makes him cough a little. Whoops.
"He is. He really is, and then some. I'm actually... I'm not used to it all. I'm used to being the one to take care of everyone else. But he's been...."
Alfred looks off into the middle distance for a moment, lost a little in thought with a tiny smile crossing his lips.
Not the look of someone putting up with someone, for certain.
"... He's been...very sweet."
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But it will take time."
That smile. Oh, he's seen that kind of smile; soft and sweet and utterly fond. Perhaps this boy loves his son, then, too. "I'm happy to hear it. He is a sweet boy, at his heart. Though he has a tendency towards the dramatic, I fear."
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He knows he has time, he knows that. And getting to know the moon, the stars...that all sounds lovely. The newness, though, the flares in his temper and the sharp edges on her personality becoming more and more obvious? He's less sure how he feels about those. He's always been known for being sweet, soft, kind; it's unsettling, knowing......there may be something darker inside himself.
Alfred doesn't know what he feels for Herbert yet - it's confusing, a muddle of guilt, shame, hope, and joy. But if the Count peeks into him, he will definitely detect the scent of roses, winding in and out of all stray thoughts in the boy's mind.
A laugh escapes him, nervous as it is, at the Count's joke.
And then he realizes it isn't a joke.
"Ahem. Ah. It's all right. It's...it's never boring."
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"Boring is not a word I'd use to describe my son, certainly." And at the mention of Herbert, the scent of roses that seems to settle like a haze over Alfred's mind grows stronger. "He's always been just as he is."
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And yes, sure as anything, when he thinks of Herbert, talks about him, there is a surge within him - a warmth, thoughts that nag and coil and don't seem to want to rest.The heady scent of roses, the flash of his smile, the feeling of his arms as he spent the darkest moments of his young life wondering if it was over.
Absently, he reaches up to rub at his throat, where the tether had been.
All thoughts that feel so different than his thoughts of Sarah had been. Why? He still doesn't quite know.
Now isn't the time, but still, that wistful little smile grows a bit.
"I can't really...imagine him another way. I feel...like he is just... comfortable in who he is. And has been for a long time."
Alfred is jealous of that, actually, if he admits it to himself.
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"And from the way he talks about you, I can see how much he cares about you, in return."
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His eyes flick this way and that as he processes them...and then, softly, as if admitting to himself as well:
"Yes...I do care for him."
There is a rush in saying it for himself, a little color rising to his cheeks, but not in embarrassment. Thoughtfully, he takes a step forward, towards the Count, looking up at him.
"I don't know if you know this, but...before this, I didn't have anyone. No friends, unless you call the Professor one. My mother died some time ago, and my father...we grew apart. I have no siblings, I have never dated anyone. I was alone. So to have someone who cares... it's new. It's nice."
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