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Sypha was in a foul mood, so the wagon had fallen into a deadly silence since they got back on the road. Without her lively chatter to keep their spirits up, Adrian had turned back into a stoic, morose prick. He was sitting just behind Trevor, probably sulking with his arms crossed and a blank look on his face. Meanwhile, Sypha was all the way in the back. Last Trevor checked, she'd been watching the road behind them through the open flap.
Trevor hated this shit. He wasn't feeling great either, but that didn't really matter because Trevor was used to feeling like shit. Out of everything, seeing them hurt in ways he couldn't really help was by far the worst part of this stupid fucking quest. He could treat injuries pretty damn well, because otherwise he would have died long ago from battle wounds and disease, but this? This involved talking, and soothing, and comforting.
How the fuck was Trevor supposed to do that? He could barely manage to not automatically be an ass to everyone, which was his first instinct after so many years of everyone being an ass to him right off the gate. Ok, fine, not everyone, but most people. Enough that he'd stopped trying.
Truth was, Trevor wasn't even sure what exactly was bothering her. He knew why she was upset: they'd left the remains of the small village with nothing but new bruises and the smell of ashes on their clothes to show for their effort. Sypha hadn't said anything though, she hadn't even cried, instead just turning quiet and distant.
Was she sad because they were too late? Angry at herself, or perhaps at the world? Scared of finding the next town already destroyed as well? Probably a combination of all that. Yeah, that was probably several kinds of bad wrapped in one.
It was getting late and Trevor was hungry. The downside of eating more regularly now, he supposed, was that he had a harder time ignoring his stomach rumbling. "I'm gonna find a place for us to set up camp," he said, looking over his shoulder.
Adrian just grunted in response. Sypha didn't even react.
Fucking great.
Setting up camp took about as long as usual. Thankfully them not talking about shit didn't stop his companions from helping and they had a fire going and dinner cooking in no time. Sypha had taken it upon herself to do this part from the very beginning, with the reasoning that Adrian had never had to camp in his life and Trevor's diet had consisted almost exclusively of old, stale bread and ale when they met.
Neither of the men had even tried to argue with her about that. In reality, Trevor was no-so-secretly incredibly grateful for her taking initiative and only ever asking him to hunt. While he could definitely butcher anything that came from these woods and knew his way around basic medicinal herbs, Trevor had no fucking clue how to make edible food. Like, decent food. Things that wouldn't make Sypha sick or give up the will to live.
The one thing he'd… sort of learned how to cook, well. It wasn't like Trevor had had many chances to practice over the years and he barely remembered his mama's stew recipe. Besides, he would rather not talk about it, and Sypha would definitely ask if he brought it up.
Trevor took his chance when he was sure Sypha was focused (a little too intently, to be honest) on slowly stirring the pot in front of her. He bumped against Adrian's shoulder as subtly as he could to get his attention, then indicated with a nod that he wanted to talk away from Sypha. Adrian seemed surprised, frowning at him, but didn't say anything until they were out of earshot.
"If your intent was to act inconspicuous, I doubt it worked," Adrian pointed out with his arms crossed and a tired look on his face.
He could be really annoying when he tried, Jesus fuck. "Except Sypha hasn't looked up from that pot since we got here," he argued, rolling his eyes. "Now could you stop with the sullen asshole shit for five fucking seconds and hear me out?"
Adrian narrowed his eyes at him, clearly trying to pull some of that 'dangerous and mysterious vampire' shit from the first few months of their acquaintance. When Trevor didn't budge, he sighed and said "Fine, speak your mind, Belmont."
"Look, shit can't go on like this. We," said Trevor, gesturing intently between the two of them and nodding back in Sypha's direction, "need to get her out of that funk. Like, you know, just… " he trailed off, unsure how to proceed.
Maybe Trevor wasn't being very clear on his intentions, because Adrian's eyebrows shot up in incredulity. "What, with sex?" asked Adrian, apparently a little bit offended on her behalf as well.
"No, you bastard," he hissed, dragging his hands through his hair. "Sure, that would make things easier, but it's not what I meant."
"Your dick isn't magical, Belmont."
Trevor groaned and looked up to the heavens, not in search of strength but placing blame. More or less just like his mama used to do. Ugh. Now was not the time.
"But you're right," continued Adrian, which made Trevor stop glaring up at God and turn his eyes back to him. "I'm… not entirely sure what, but we have to do something to take her mind off what happened earlier."
"Oh, thank fuck, finally," Trevor sighed in relief. He paid no mind to Adrian's eye roll. "I was hoping you had some clue, 'cause I'm fucking lost here."
Both of them turned to look at Sypha, back in their little camp. She was looking in the opposite direction, all wrapped in her shawl and with her head covered, so they couldn't see her face. Nights were colder this far up the mountains, but Adrian didn't feel cold like normal people did and Sypha was just as used to it as Trevor was. Still, she looked like she was curled into herself and Trevor's heart ached.
Sypha wasn't supposed to be like that, to feel like that. She was the joyful one, the hopeful grinning gremlin that woke him up with insistent poking at his ribs. The one who sang strange, foreign songs by the fire and collected tales and stories from everyone they met like they were more precious than gold. She would entertain small children with fun anecdotes while treating their parents' injuries and do it with a smile. Sypha was supposed to be full of righteous rage, not sorrow, in times like these.
"Huh," said Adrian, after a moment. "I may have something that can help. Come on."
He walked off without another word. Trevor huffed and grumbled to himself before going after Adrian. They joined Sypha by the fire and she finally looked up.
"Food is almost ready," she said, sounding even more down in the dumps than Trevor had thought.
"It smells delicious," Adrian offered with a tentative smile. Sypha bit her lip and went back to stirring without looking directly at either of them. Adrian traded a look with Trevor, who just shrugged. "Sypha?"
She just hummed quietly. Well, shit.
Adrian reached into his coat and poked around until he pulled something from one of the inner pockets, which turned out to be a small, leather bound book. The cover was dark green and covered in golden vines and leaves.
"What's that?" asked Sypha, perking up immediately. Of course the fastest way to cheer her up was to find her a book. "Why were you keeping that from me? Oh. Oh, sorry, it's personal, isn't it?"
"A bit, yes," said Adrian, flipping the little book open with all of his elegance and grace. Sypha's eyes were not on him, though. "It's a collection of poems. I'd completely forgotten about it since I last read them, and I ended up just sticking the poor thing in a pocket before going to sleep in Gresit."
Sypha let out a little "Oh," and Trevor could see some of her spark coming back already.
"May I read you some?"
"Yes, please," said Sypha in a heartbeat. Before Trevor could ask or reach out, she turned to him with a small, soft smile.
That was all the permission he needed to pull her close against his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist with his chin resting on her shoulder.
Sypha sighed and relaxed into his embrace, all warm and cozy in his arms. Adrian moved closer and placed a hand on her thigh. Trevor felt a tug, a tightness in his chest that came whenever the three of them were together like this. When they shared quiet moments and held each other through the night.
Adrian's hair fell around his face as he turned his eyes down to read. "Don’t cry for Layla, don’t rave about Hind!
But drink among roses a rose-red wine,
A draught that descends in the drinker’s throat,
bestowing its redness on eyes and cheeks."
He was… painfully good at it, giving the words the weight they deserved. Trevor knew nothing about poetry but he could feel it sinking in through Adrian's voice. The images it brought to his mind were of the woman in his arms and the man in front of him. He just swallowed around the way those words were making him feel and tried not to let himself think too hard about this.
Trevor, of course, failed miserably as Adrian continued reading.
"The wine is a ruby, the glass is a pearl,
served by the hand of a slim-fingered girl,
Who serves you the wine from her hand, and wine
from her mouth — doubly drunk, for sure, will you be.
Thus I am drunk twice, my friends only once:
a favor special, for me alone!"
Thoughts of soft lips tasting like sweet wine and the slim fingers of a certain man filled Trevor's mind. But it wasn't quite the accompanying pang of arousal that got to him. It was the way Sypha shifted closer, somehow, while Adrian looked their way for just a moment through a curtain of blond strands.
Adrian cleared his throat and looked down again, flipping the page. "Dearly beloved!
I have called you so often and you have not heard me
I have shown myself to you so often and you have not
seen me.
I have made myself fragrance so often, and you have
not smelled me.
Savorous food, and you have not tasted me.
Why can you not reach me through the object you touch
Or breathe me through sweet perfumes?
Why do you not see me? Why do you not hear me?
Why? Why? Why?"
He cared about them. He wanted them, yes, so much that sometimes it felt like his skin was on fire until their hands were on him. There was nothing quite like it. But that wasn't it, not all of it. That wasn't why Trevor had been so damn worried by Sypha's behavior earlier, or why he'd immediately sought Adrian's help and trusted his plan without even knowing what he had in mind.
That need, the one described in those poems…
"Wow," Sypha said under her breath.
Trevor couldn't get any words out, so he just squeezed her a bit tighter and touched Adrian's hand, resting on her thigh.
Adrian looked up again and this time Sypha pushed some of his hair behind his ear. Her fingers brushed the pointy tip seemingly without thinking and Adrian sucked in a shaky breath.
There was an energy in the air. Something about those words, about the way Sypha's breathing had changed, about the way Adrian was looking at them. The damned poems just made it that much harder to pretend there wasn't anything more between them.
For better or for worse, Adrian read one last poem. "I would split open my heart
with a knife, place you
within and seal my wound,
that you might dwell there
and never inhabit another
until the resurrection and
judgment day — thus you
would stay in my heart
while I lived, and at my death
you too would die in the
entrails of my core, in
the shadow of my tomb."
It was pretty clear that Adrian hadn't picked those poems on purpose, judging by how they seemed to be messing with him as well.
For a second, Trevor feared Sypha would turn and ask him how those words had made him feel. If he loved them that way. And he wouldn't be able to deny it to their faces, but Trevor knew then and there that he did. He loved Sypha and Adrian madly.
They were also on a suicide mission to kill fucking Dracula.
Maybe that was some major hypocrisy on his part, trying to divorce his feelings from his dick like that. Maybe the three of them were past the point where saying things out loud would matter when it came down to risking their lives for each other. Maybe he should get it out of his chest anyway, so they would know for sure if, or most likely when, Trevor died trying to keep them safe.
Neither of them said anything about that. Not with words, at least.
Sypha simply pulled Adrian closer to the both of them into a clumsy three person embrace. She hid her face against his chest, finally crying, letting it out instead of bottling up. Adrian was gripping Trevor's coat pretty tight too and, while Trevor wasn't quite as shaken as they were… this was for him as well.
They were tired, physically and emotionally, their spirits beaten and broken after so much pain. There was so much pain still to come before their quest was over.
All they had were each other.
Maybe that could be enough.
They didn't stay that way long. Sypha ended up breaking their embrace, grumbling about how hungry she was as she dried her tears on her shawl. Trevor got up to grab their bowls from the cart unprompted, thankful that Sypha had forgotten them.
"Here," he heard Adrian say. "Read the others, you'll like them."
"Adrian, I… thank you."
He just hummed, low and soft, as Trevor passed them their bowls. Sypha tucked the book into her robes, next to her heart in what was probably an innocent gesture on her part, then served their food.
They ate quietly, side by side, with her leaning slightly against Adrian's side this time.
Trevor heard crickets, frogs, wolves and owls in the woods around them, the healthy and normal symphony of the night. They were far enough from the village now that the eerie quietness of death was long gone. There must be no night creatures nearby, as often the first to notice them coming were the wild animals.
If they managed to get any sleep at all that wasn't plagued by nightmares, it would be great. Almost a nice night out camping if not for the whole weary exhaustion of war thing.
"Those poems," said Sypha in a whisper, looking up at the stars through the small window of the clearing. "Where are they from? I've never read anything like that."
By chance Trevor turned just in time to catch Adrian's expression shifting, his jaw tensing slightly even as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It once belonged to a merchant from Damascus. He attempted a translation of some poems he liked and my father bought it from him in a small town in Calabria, I think. It was a gift for my mother."
It was stuff like this that made Trevor feel conflicted about going off to kill Dracula. Knowing Adrian so well now, hearing tidbits that made it clear how much he was struggling with what they would have to do… Trevor knew it wasn't guilt, exactly, but something else much more painful.
Sypha perhaps regretted asking about the book now, going by the way she kissed his cheek without saying anything directly. From where he sat, all Trevor could see was Adrian looking into her eyes and his lips trembling for a moment like he was actually about to cry. But then he looked up over her shoulder, at Trevor.
"We should go to sleep," he said around the lump in his own throat and for a moment Adrian looked thankful for the out he was being offered.
"That would probably be for the best, yes," said Adrian, pulling away and taking their bowls from the ground. He walked off to the other side of the camp, saying "I'll clean these."
A particularly sharp, cold breeze passed and Sypha shivered audibly, wrapping herself tighter in her shawl. "You're sleeping in the middle tonight," she said, getting up.
She seemed to be doing better, or was at least less focused on the day's events, so Trevor chose to count this as a small win. "Again? Why?" he asked, just to make her argue with him a little.
"Because you are a human furnace and I like warming my feet on your calves," said Sypha with way too much authority. She was heading off a bit into the woods, waving him off dismissively. "Go and get our bed rolls stretched by the fire, please."
"Yes, ma'am," Trevor replied, shaking his head in amusement. He didn't move right away, instead watching her create a small flame in her hands to light her way. Adrian was still busy rinsing their bowls off to the side, in the dark. His gaze eventually turned to the fire in front of him, seeing the past in it.
How could something be so comforting and so horrifying at the same time? There were ghosts dancing in the flames that belonged only to Trevor, moving between the charred debris of a big house, sure, but… The others must see it too, the burned down village, the traces of so many lives lost.
Sometimes it felt like it was too much. Too much shit and pain. Even for Trevor, who'd seen some of the worst that humanity could be over the years, it could be too fucking much. He knew it was taking a toll on Sypha and Adrian.
They only had each other.
Trevor quietly vowed to himself, then, that when this war came to an end, he'd take care of them. If he survived, he would dedicate his life to loving them the way they deserved to be loved.
Openly, fully, truly loved.