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In all of his nearly 5 centuries of existence, somehow Alucard had forgotten how incredibly moody teenagers can be. Well, that’s not entirely accurate—vampires, try as they might, can never really forget anything. It’s more like a fact that had drifted to the back of his mind a long time ago and had no real reason to come forward.
The fact is at the forefront of his mind right now alright, and fifteen-year-old Integra is making sure of that.
“Master, if you could just—”
“Don’t touch me, Alucard!”
“It’s really not that big of an issue, if you—”
“I said I don’t want your fucking help!”
It had seemed like a good idea, ten minutes ago when Alucard made the decision to coax his young master onto the Ferris wheel while passing by on the way back from a successful mission. Now, as they slowly rise over the pop-up carnival, Alucard is coming to rethink his choices.
“Look, I’m going to shut my mouth, but know that even if something were to happen—which it will not—I won’t allow any harm to come to you.”
Integra doesn’t give him a reply, instead opting to stare resolutely at the complicated metal hinge above their heads. Her hands, which would usually be crossed across her chest, are white-knuckled in their grip on the safety bar lying on Alucard and her lap.
The bench lurches slightly with the movement of the wheel, and Integra sucks in a sharp breath, her grip growing impossibly tighter on the safety bar. Alucard’s crimson eyes flick toward her, but, as promised, he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he leans back lazily, draping one arm behind his head, as though daring her to admit she’s nervous—her stubborn silence is a battle of wills he’s happy to watch unfold.
Cheery carnival music drifts upwards from the colorful tents below them, dissipating into the clear, starry night above them. The lights strung around the structure of the ride twinkle. A part of Alucard is constantly amazed at the dichotomy of humans. That they could build a creation like this—a mechanical marvel that takes people high into the air safely and brings them back to the earth just as gently—merely for trivial enjoyment is a marvel to the vampire. And then, at the same time, for those same humans to be afraid …it’s fascinating.
Integra blows out a long, low breath through her gritted teeth, and slowly, ever so slowly, drags her eyes away from her bloodless knuckles. Alucard keeps his gaze trained on the horizon, not looking at her, and a second later Integra does too, watching the way that the few sparse clouds drift across the sky.
It takes her a few minutes, but eventually, Integra’s grip loosens and her posture relaxes. Alucard is content to wait, allowing her to digest her fear on her own, for as long as she needs.
Once Integra seems to have lost the majority of the tension in her limbs, Alucard speaks. “Look there. What does that cloud look like to you?”
Integra scoffs, but follows the line of the vampire’s finger “I’m not four, Alucard.”
He ignores her. “To me it looks like a dragon.”
“That’s ridiculous. It’s obviously a swan.”
“Now you’re just making things up. See there, how the flames are coming out of the mouth?”
“That’s a swan’s ass, you fool.”
Alucard’s lips curl into a smirk, his gaze still fixed on the drifting cloud. “A swan’s ass, is it? How poetic, master. Perhaps you’ve missed your calling as a naturalist.”
Integra’s hands, no longer gripping the safety bar with such fervor, cross over her chest. “Better a naturalist than a delusional fool who sees dragons in clouds.”
“Delusional? I’ll have you know, master, I’ve met dragons. If they heard your comparison to a swan’s rear, they might just take offense.”
“I’m sure my comparison would be a delight, given that they had to spend any length of time in your company.”
The Ferris wheel turns on, the night air clear and perfect, and, for just a moment, Integra forgets her position, forgets her name and legacy, forgets the responsibilities of her world, and is a teenage girl, afraid of heights.