Sarah smooths her hands over her new dress, giving a little twirl. Feeling like a princess. No, like a countess. Which is what she is, now, isn't she? Or she ought to be, being the eternal bride of a count. He does so love spoiling her with clothes and things for her bath, and she couldn't be more delighted at the attention and the presents.
Right now, Georg is off somewhere. Herbert (ugh, she so strongly dislikes her -- stepson, she supposes) said he was in the graveyard, and Sarah shouldn't bother him there. So she's taking the time to explore the castle a little more, wandering from room to room. Occasionally twirling to make the skirt of her dress fan out in a very satisfactory way.
He's...getting the hang of things, he thinks. There are still lots of growing pains, to be sure, and he is still trying to work out where he stands with...well, everyone. But at least he's made some peace with some of it.
But not all of it. Presently, he's in one of the many, many storerooms, looking at old discarded clothes, seeing what is salvageable - and his expression goes a little meek, a little hollow when the door opens and he turns to find...
"Ah. Hello." She'd been avoiding Alfred as much as possible. He's... sweet. He truly is. And maybe in another life, they might have worked. But she had wanted a way out of the inn, and he had seemed like a good option. Before Georg had made her a better offer.
She leans against the doorframe a little, deciding she can't avoid him indefinitely. "What are you going through, there?"
Alfred has, of course, been avoiding Sarah, too. Just looking at her makes him remember things he doesn't want to think about, a series of nights that were the hardest of his life. His scar aches, faintly, and his jaw sets.
But still. Civility. They do live together in this place, after all.
"...Some of their old clothes," he finally responds after about three times as long as he should have taken, eyes flicking away from the girl and down to the shirt he's holding. "To see what can be salvaged. I - I like to sew. Mend things."
He's trying his hardest not to feel...what he is inclined to feel about this. About her.
"You enjoy it?" She wrinkles her nose a little, unable to imagine doing mending just for fun. "Mama made me learn, so I could help out around the inn. Mending, darning, that sort of thing. I was meant to take over the inn when they found a proper husband for me."
Her expression makes it clear that that would be the the absolute last thing she wanted to do.
"I don't think I'll have to do that anymore. Thank goodness."
There is a - surge, in Alfred, at her obvious distaste. His jaw grinds a little where it is set, shoulders drawing taut as if he had himself been admonished. Sliding backward into old habits. Cowed. He had only wanted to answer her question, and now he feels under attack for the answer.
"...Mother taught me. It's a useful skill, and it's - quiet. I find it soothing."
There is an uncharacteristic flatness to his tone of voice, and he still doesn't look back up at her. Inspecting moth holes in the fabric, turning it inside out to observe the seams. "But anything beyond mending I was - discouraged from. It wasn't manly, they said. I have the time to revisit it now."
A long, slow breath he doesn't need, and he tries to lighten his tone, lifting his blue eyes to rest on her.
"Oh." She knows that expression. Had seen it on his face when she'd turned away from his kisses. Rejection. She may not care for him in any sort of romantic way, but she's not entirely cruel. She tries to fix her mistake with a quietly offered, "I'm glad you enjoy it, then. It is a useful skill to have. It's just not for me, that's all."
She moves a step or two further into the room, hands behind her back. "Well the bath is mine whenever I like, which is wonderful. Georg takes me out for a walk around the garden most nights. I've never seen so many flowers. Our garden at the inn is all vegetables and things."
Alfred can't help it - when she walks closer, he physically recoils a couple of steps, looking quite like the mouse having polite conversation with the cat. One hand absently reaches up to wrap over his scar, an unconscious movement.
He's...still hurt. And maybe even still a little afraid.
"...I'm...I'm glad you are happy, here," he finally mumbles, meekly.
She's still hungry. She's always hungry, it feels like. But Alfred doesn't smell like food anymore, and so he's safe from her.
Sarah steps back when he does, toying with her skirt a little. Trying to cast a smile in his direction. "And you have Herbert. And that's -- lovely. Isn't it?" She doesn't quite understand, but. So long as they're happy. Herbert certainly seems over the moon about it.
He eases, just a little, when she steps back. His hand still remains pressed to his scar, however...there's - there's something in him, twisting in his gut, that he's trying to sort out.
"He...saved me."
Alfred doesn't smile back at her. He can't. His voice trembles a little, expression...starting to crack a bit, around the edges.
"I don't know," she admits, shaking her head and staring at the ground. "I thought we could just -- be friends. I thought it would be as easy as that. That you and I could get along so we could live together here.
The words are small and hollow - and in that moment, the dam shatters. He hugs the shirt he's holding to his chest like a security blanket, standing there terrified, knock-kneed, and hurt. Tears start to course down his face, as much as he wishes they would stop, for once. He just wants to be strong. To be brave.
Why, WHY does it never WORK?
"You - you DRAINED me. And you LEFT me there - I - I almost - I came so close to dying, Sarah, that I met the Reaper my first morning.
"I didn't mean to drain you. I was so hungry, Alfred. I didn't understand -- my body felt wrong. He didn't tell me what it would be like, when he turned me. Just that I would be immortal, and he would teach me everything, in time.
I'm sorry I left you, Alfred. I got scared and ran back to the castle. I didn't realize -- " She sighs, frustrated, and wraps her arms around her waist, shaking her head. "I wasn't thinking anything at all. Just about how hungry I was."
On some level, Alfred knows he's being a little unfair. Sarah is eight years younger than he is, and...well, he knows that Georg says quite a lot without explaining much of anything.
But he can still so clearly see that night in his memory, can still feel -
Hooking a finger under his collar, he bears the scar for Sarah to see clearly, likely for the first time. It's healing slowly, improperly, an angry twisted swath of tissue. He's sobbing, messily, but...he doesn't care. He needs to say this. He needs to get this out.
"You don't have to tell me how hungry you were. I know. I KNOW."
Sarah gasps in shock at the sight of the scar she left behind on Alfred's neck. Messy, twisted, spread over his neck, almost to his shoulder. "I did that?" she asks, horrified, her hand over her mouth.
She remembers biting him a few times. Digging in with newly sharpened teeth. Feeling hot blood wash over her tongue and smear across her face and hands. Feeling truly alive for the first time in her life. Not thinking one thought about Alfred, or the pain he must be in. How much she was hurting him.
Her reaction - it catches him off guard. She looks...horrified.
She genuinely hadn't thought about it, had she? All this time spent painting her in his head as a monster, the shadow he jumps at, a recurring nightmare...but now he's seeing the reality of it.
She's a seventeen year old girl who doesn't know what she had done.
"...Yes," he finally manages, just a little more calmly. He closes the distance somewhat, letting her get a better look at the consequences of her actions. "And you were - you were so new, I...I haven't turned right. I'm still having...a lot of trouble with it all."
"And after -- I did, didn't I? I just left you there. My only thought was getting back to the castle." Everything had felt incredible but also so, so wrong. She had ached, and was so thirsty. So hungry from the moment she started turning.
Everything had happened so quickly, she could barely remember any of it. Georg had bitten her, and then they danced, and then suddenly she was in the snow with Alfred and everything was so cold.
"I didn't mean to turn you. I didn't know what I was doing. Not at all."
Scrubbing his face with the back of his hand, he draws a long, steadying breath, watching her, watching her reactions. The little flare of his temper starts to cool a little, sympathy entering his expression as he speaks again.
"You...I know you didn't. You had no idea. I - Sarah, I tried to tell you. I wanted to warn you, before the Ball. I...I don't like to think of it, now, but...it was my job, before, to know about vampires.
She does look a bit sheepish at that, because it's true. She hadn't wanted to listen to him. "Oh -- yes. You tried to talk to me in the bath. But I was just so excited about everything. The Ball, the Count fawning over me. All the presents he'd gifted me with. The way he talked about it all made it all seem so magical -- how we'd rule over the night together.
I was finally getting the life that I wanted. I didn't want to listen to anyone who told me no anymore."
There's another clench in his jaw...but he doesn't look angry. He doesn't look angry, because he understands. Like him, she wanted something she thought she could never have.
"...I...understand that, more than you think I do. But I wish you had - at least let me explain, let me tell you what was going to happen to you. I-"
He stops short, blinking as he processes his thoughts.
"I...I may have gone about it wrong, myself. S-some of the blame...some of it is mine. But I wish I could at least have given you more information."
"Alfred -- " Sarah sighs and reaches out to touch Alfred's arm lightly. Looking... sad. For both of them. She does feel badly, for not having listened to him. For hurting him so viciously. Georg is just so charming, the way he talked about being a vampire made it sound very romantic. But it wasn't like that, at all.
"I wish I had, too. I should have. And I'm sorry for hurting you like I did. I understand why you're angry with me, now."
In spite of himself, he still flinches at her touch - but he doesn't pull away from it. He looks from her hand, to his own, trembling and white-knuckled...then up to her face. Sad. Apologetic. Remorseful.
He sighs, looking...tired, more than anything else.
"...I'm not angry, exactly. I'm - hurt. And part of that is what you did to me, but...." A beat, brows furrowed. "Part of it is that I...I should have known better. This - you and I - it was never going to be what I thought it was. It just...it wasn't."
He rests his hand over hers.
"It might take me some time to get over it, Sarah. Both how you hurt me, and...and how I...don't love you. And maybe I never did."
"I think I wanted very much to be in love with you, Alfred," she says slowly, trying to work out herself what exactly she had felt for this lovely boy.
"You are everything I should want. You're kind, and you're very dear, and you were very sweet to me when we met. But then I met the Count, and I saw -- what I actually did want. Freedom, and adventure, and most of all to be away from my old life.
And I'm sorry that I hurt you. Not just the bite, but in thinking that I might love you. I was foolish, and I hope you can forgive me that."
For a moment, Alfred just nods along - and then...uncharacteristically, he lets out a small, bitter little laugh. It isn't that he doesn't think her sincere - no, it's something else.
"...In time, Sarah. I believe you are sorry, but...it will take me time."
He pauses a moment, looking around the room as if for an answer to what to say next. And then he looks at her again, a strained little smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I - I'm not laughing at you. It's just...well. Can you keep a secret?"
She had been about to tell him not to be cruel, but then he's apologizing and she relaxes a little. The laugh had taken her by surprise; it had seemed so unlike him.
Still, Sarah regards him warily. "I think that I can, yes. I promise to keep yours."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Oh, it's you.
Right now, Georg is off somewhere. Herbert (ugh, she so strongly dislikes her -- stepson, she supposes) said he was in the graveyard, and Sarah shouldn't bother him there. So she's taking the time to explore the castle a little more, wandering from room to room. Occasionally twirling to make the skirt of her dress fan out in a very satisfactory way.
Re: Oh, it's you.
But not all of it. Presently, he's in one of the many, many storerooms, looking at old discarded clothes, seeing what is salvageable - and his expression goes a little meek, a little hollow when the door opens and he turns to find...
Sarah.
Oh.
"...Ah...g-good evening."
no subject
She leans against the doorframe a little, deciding she can't avoid him indefinitely. "What are you going through, there?"
no subject
But still. Civility. They do live together in this place, after all.
"...Some of their old clothes," he finally responds after about three times as long as he should have taken, eyes flicking away from the girl and down to the shirt he's holding. "To see what can be salvaged. I - I like to sew. Mend things."
He's trying his hardest not to feel...what he is inclined to feel about this. About her.
no subject
Her expression makes it clear that that would be the the absolute last thing she wanted to do.
"I don't think I'll have to do that anymore. Thank goodness."
no subject
"...Mother taught me. It's a useful skill, and it's - quiet. I find it soothing."
There is an uncharacteristic flatness to his tone of voice, and he still doesn't look back up at her. Inspecting moth holes in the fabric, turning it inside out to observe the seams. "But anything beyond mending I was - discouraged from. It wasn't manly, they said. I have the time to revisit it now."
A long, slow breath he doesn't need, and he tries to lighten his tone, lifting his blue eyes to rest on her.
"So then, what are you doing with your time?"
no subject
She moves a step or two further into the room, hands behind her back. "Well the bath is mine whenever I like, which is wonderful. Georg takes me out for a walk around the garden most nights. I've never seen so many flowers. Our garden at the inn is all vegetables and things."
no subject
Alfred can't help it - when she walks closer, he physically recoils a couple of steps, looking quite like the mouse having polite conversation with the cat. One hand absently reaches up to wrap over his scar, an unconscious movement.
He's...still hurt. And maybe even still a little afraid.
"...I'm...I'm glad you are happy, here," he finally mumbles, meekly.
no subject
Sarah steps back when he does, toying with her skirt a little. Trying to cast a smile in his direction. "And you have Herbert. And that's -- lovely. Isn't it?" She doesn't quite understand, but. So long as they're happy. Herbert certainly seems over the moon about it.
no subject
"He...saved me."
Alfred doesn't smile back at her. He can't. His voice trembles a little, expression...starting to crack a bit, around the edges.
"...Sarah, what are we doing? What is this?"
no subject
But it's not easy, is it?"
no subject
The words are small and hollow - and in that moment, the dam shatters. He hugs the shirt he's holding to his chest like a security blanket, standing there terrified, knock-kneed, and hurt. Tears start to course down his face, as much as he wishes they would stop, for once. He just wants to be strong. To be brave.
Why, WHY does it never WORK?
"You - you DRAINED me. And you LEFT me there - I - I almost - I came so close to dying, Sarah, that I met the Reaper my first morning.
Why? Why would it be EASY?"
no subject
I'm sorry I left you, Alfred. I got scared and ran back to the castle. I didn't realize -- " She sighs, frustrated, and wraps her arms around her waist, shaking her head. "I wasn't thinking anything at all. Just about how hungry I was."
no subject
On some level, Alfred knows he's being a little unfair. Sarah is eight years younger than he is, and...well, he knows that Georg says quite a lot without explaining much of anything.
But he can still so clearly see that night in his memory, can still feel -
Hooking a finger under his collar, he bears the scar for Sarah to see clearly, likely for the first time. It's healing slowly, improperly, an angry twisted swath of tissue. He's sobbing, messily, but...he doesn't care. He needs to say this. He needs to get this out.
"You don't have to tell me how hungry you were. I know. I KNOW."
no subject
She remembers biting him a few times. Digging in with newly sharpened teeth. Feeling hot blood wash over her tongue and smear across her face and hands. Feeling truly alive for the first time in her life. Not thinking one thought about Alfred, or the pain he must be in. How much she was hurting him.
no subject
She genuinely hadn't thought about it, had she? All this time spent painting her in his head as a monster, the shadow he jumps at, a recurring nightmare...but now he's seeing the reality of it.
She's a seventeen year old girl who doesn't know what she had done.
"...Yes," he finally manages, just a little more calmly. He closes the distance somewhat, letting her get a better look at the consequences of her actions. "And you were - you were so new, I...I haven't turned right. I'm still having...a lot of trouble with it all."
no subject
Everything had happened so quickly, she could barely remember any of it. Georg had bitten her, and then they danced, and then suddenly she was in the snow with Alfred and everything was so cold.
"I didn't mean to turn you. I didn't know what I was doing. Not at all."
no subject
Scrubbing his face with the back of his hand, he draws a long, steadying breath, watching her, watching her reactions. The little flare of his temper starts to cool a little, sympathy entering his expression as he speaks again.
"You...I know you didn't. You had no idea. I - Sarah, I tried to tell you. I wanted to warn you, before the Ball. I...I don't like to think of it, now, but...it was my job, before, to know about vampires.
I couldn't...get you to hear me."
no subject
I was finally getting the life that I wanted. I didn't want to listen to anyone who told me no anymore."
no subject
"...I...understand that, more than you think I do. But I wish you had - at least let me explain, let me tell you what was going to happen to you. I-"
He stops short, blinking as he processes his thoughts.
"I...I may have gone about it wrong, myself. S-some of the blame...some of it is mine. But I wish I could at least have given you more information."
no subject
"I wish I had, too. I should have. And I'm sorry for hurting you like I did. I understand why you're angry with me, now."
no subject
He sighs, looking...tired, more than anything else.
"...I'm not angry, exactly. I'm - hurt. And part of that is what you did to me, but...." A beat, brows furrowed. "Part of it is that I...I should have known better. This - you and I - it was never going to be what I thought it was. It just...it wasn't."
He rests his hand over hers.
"It might take me some time to get over it, Sarah. Both how you hurt me, and...and how I...don't love you. And maybe I never did."
no subject
"You are everything I should want. You're kind, and you're very dear, and you were very sweet to me when we met. But then I met the Count, and I saw -- what I actually did want. Freedom, and adventure, and most of all to be away from my old life.
And I'm sorry that I hurt you. Not just the bite, but in thinking that I might love you. I was foolish, and I hope you can forgive me that."
no subject
"...In time, Sarah. I believe you are sorry, but...it will take me time."
He pauses a moment, looking around the room as if for an answer to what to say next. And then he looks at her again, a strained little smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I - I'm not laughing at you. It's just...well. Can you keep a secret?"
no subject
Still, Sarah regards him warily. "I think that I can, yes. I promise to keep yours."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)