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Insomnia wasn't a particularly pleasant side-effect of being half-vampire. There were worse possible ones, which Adrian was glad not to have--such as if he'd been unable to go into the sunlight. Still, finding things to do during the long hours of the night, when half of him was bone-tired and ready to sleep, and the other half was perked up and keeping attuned to all senses for a possible hunt, ended up being a necessity to keep Adrian from going mad. It was during one of those nights, in the middle of making his newest sweater, that Adrian finally sensed something out of the ordinary.
First was the sound, like something on two legs walking through the forest around his cabin. Not unusual, given the small number of monsters which were bipedal, but something which made Adrian's brain strain to sense more. The curses and occasional calls were next, making it quite clear there was a human out there, presumably looking for someone. Or... maybe not anyone specific. Because then he was close enough for Adrian to smell blood--human blood. It seemed his mother's lessons on medicine would come in handy after all.
He'd set aside his materials, prepped an examination space, and opened the door before the human had even managed to raise his hand to knock. He seemed surprised, though quite pale, even in the moonlight. The trail of blood behind him explained that rather handily.
"Come in, then," Adrian said. He didn't wait for an answer, pushing the human past the fireplace while closing the door. "You look to have more blood outside your body than in it, at the moment-"
The human drew a sword, lunging at Adrian. Though surprised, he twitched far enough to the side to avoid the hit, grabbing the human's wrist and twisting until he was forced to let go of the weapon.
"So," Adrian said, pointedly, leading the human towards the cleared table, "if you would put yourself on the table here-"
"not a chance, bloodsucker," the human snarled, pulling two knives from... somewhere. Adrian once again had to avoid the hits, which were surprisingly accurate for a human with such blood loss, presumably from a painful, still open wound. Yet, even as Adrian slapped both knives from the human's hands did he grab two more, tossing them directly at Adrian, and then pulling out two more, again. "If I had known you had this little set up out here, luring in unsuspecting-"
"Victims?" Adrian said, dryly. "It seems you've already gotten yourself into trouble without any help. but if you'll let me-"
The human snarled, and after he was disarmed, he pulled a whip.
"Now, this is getting ridiculous."
When the whip, snapped in such a small space, immediately cracked the leg of a nice chair, Adrian decided enough was enough. using his speed for the first time, he grabbed at the human, again forcing him to drop the weapon, kicking it out of range and into the corner where the others had ended up. The human, undeterred at first, snapped his head forward and cracked their foreheads together. Adrian reeled for a moment, but managed to grab the cloak the human was wearing, using his speed and strength to tear it off.
Ah. That crest explained a lot. A Belmont.
Still, seeing the bloody wound on his abdomen, having bled through to even his pants, Adrian knew his time was short. Keeping an eye out for dirty tricks, and scoffing at the attempt to knee him in the crotch, Adrian managed to manhandle the Belmont onto the table, stripping off his belts, boots, and bracers as he went. Some were ruined by the force, but Adrian didn't have the time to deal with buckles, not with his patient in such a combative state. Though that was one he apparently wasn't able to keep up for long, at the moment.
Once forced to lay down, his attempt to sit up again had him swaying, his already pale face turning near white from lack of blood. Adrian used the opportunity to tug off his shirt, ripping a couple seams, and getting an indignant yell, but it bared most of his wound. Tossing the article of clothing aside, Adrian pushed the Belmont back down, stripping his pants easily, despite the angry little grunt and weak kick it garnered.
patient Bared, and losing strength, Adrian set to work on the wound. The Belmont, despite his colorful curses, grew weaker as Adrian worked, until he passed out.
At least Adrian knew he wouldn't have to deal with another attack so soon.
0-o-0
Trevor woke up warm. It was so comfortable, so unlike what the last few years had been like--and the last two in particular--that Trevor nearly thought he was dreaming. He wasn't sure he wanted to wake, if he was. but, no, despite the warmth, there was a sore, throbbing pain in his gut, one which told him he had a healing wound. And pain didn't translate so well to dreams.
So, he was awake. He blinked his eyes, turning his head away from the simple wooden ceiling, noting the similar features of the rest of the small cabin. Then, of course, he saw the vampire, and remembered.
The first thing he did was bring his hand up to his neck, noting, thankfully, no bite marks. The next thing he noticed was the blanket he'd brought his hand up from under; and related, that the blanket was the only thing he had covering him, aside from which, he was naked in the vampire's bed. Third, as he glared at the vampire, he noticed...
"Are you knitting?"
Without even looking up, the vampire said, tone dry, "Oh good, your eyes do still work." Bastard.
But Trevor couldn't get over the idea that this vampire had not bitten him, had sewn up his wound--because Trevor could tell he was no longer dripping blood--and covered him with a knitted blanket which, which-
"Did you... make this?"
The vampire looked up then, eyeing the blanket over Trevor. He nodded. He didn't stop moving his hands even once, needles moving steadily under his direction, bringing some sort of clothing item into shape.
"How do you feel?"
"Like shit."
"...I mean, does your wound have any stabbing pains? Or does it feel hot?" Trevor did not appreciate the fact that the vampire was looking at him like he was stupid.
"No. Why, wanna make sure it isn't infected before you drink?"
The vampire actually rolled his eyes up to the heavens, as if asking God for patience. Joke was on him--God didn't care about vampires or Belmonts.
"You seem fine," the vampire decided. And said nothing more. He just went back to his knitting.
For several long moments, there was nothing else. He did not move to attack, to convince Trevor of anything; he just knitted, the crackle of a small fire and the clicking of the needles the only sounds. It had to have been late at night, by then. But this vampire stayed inside, just doing the sorts of things Trevor had assumed vampires thought beneath them. In fact... Yes, Trevor noticed the pile of cloth and leather over on the table was actually his weapons and clothes. Folded and placed precisely, rather than thrown away. Huh. It took only a few minutes for Trevor to feel restless, and he moved his leg, sliding it out of the blanket.
"Put that back on the bed, Belmont," the vampire commanded, not bothering to look away from his work. "I didn't stitch you up just for you to re-open it with some foolish attempt to stand too soon."
Trevor scowled, but, reluctantly, did as he was told. He knew he wasn't fit to sit, much less stand, at the moment. He'd had bad wounds before, and he remembered some of what his father had always taught. Still, it didn't stop Trevor's anxiousness. So he did what he always did when he couldn't move: he ran his mouth.
"So, you know I'm a Belmont."
"Your perception is unparalleled."
"Ugh. And you're not going to do anything about it?"
"Like what? I assume you have at least six different diseases you might pass on to me, should I drink from you."
"You're a real cock-wart, you know? I meant you could have killed me. Would have been easy."
"Yes, it would have."
Trevor narrowed his eyes at the vampire, but he said nothing else. Slowly, actually, truly asking this time, Trevor said, "Why didn't you?"
"Because..." The vampire sighed, and finally looked back at him, hands slowing. "Because, you came to my home for help. That's all."
Which was a baffling answer. It made no sense; any other vampire would have jumped at the opportunity to kill him, and that was before they saw his crest.
"It's not like I knew who lived here," Trevor muttered.
"That much was apparent, Belmont."
Really, really it was. Trevor wouldn't have asked a vampire for help. Any other vampire wouldn't have given it. But... this one did. This one sat in a small cabin in the woods, knitting, and stitching up strange, combative Belmonts.
"It's Trevor. Belmont."
"...Adrian Țepeș."
Which sounded familiar, but Trevor shrugged it off. There were a lot of well known vampire houses; So long as this one stayed--nice wasn't the right word--calm and non-murdery, Trevor didn't care who his sire was. At least Trevor's wound was taken care of, he was warm, the blanket was soft, and his company didn't seem to mind his sharp tongue. He had one of his own. Refreshing, really.
So for the rest of the night, unable to go back to sleep, Trevor just talked. And Adrian talked back. There was sarcasm, sure, but it was... nice. Trevor thought he might--maybe--like this vampire.