bakerstreet | the rescue meme.

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[meme] characterization

the rescue meme.

the rescue meme

'Cause sometimes you just can’t save yourself.

→ Post with your character’s name, canon, and any preferences in the subject line
→ Those tagging, go to RNG and roll for a number between one and ten.
→ Alternatively, just pick the choice you’re interested in most.

1. BAD DATE - You get a text, a phone call, or maybe you can just see the other person floundering on what clearly must be the worst date of their life. Time to step in and save the day.

2. PRISON - Maybe they've been wrongly convicted, or maybe you're an accomplice. Either way, it's jailbreak time. Maybe the guards will fall for the old 'wounded prisoner' technique.

3. TAKEN HOSTAGE - They're being held at gunpoint, either for money or for fun. Maybe you can talk down their captors — or maybe you are a captor, secretly working to help them.

4. UNWELL - Your body is damaged, your suffering taken its toll. You can't save yourself anymore. You're wounded, you're starving, maybe even dying. Someone, help!

5. YOURSELF - One bad choice after another, your self-destructive tendencies are going to get the best of you unless someone steps in to save the day.

6. BIG DAMN RESCUE - You're hovering over an active volcano, a pit of sharks, about to fall off a cliff. Whatever it is, you've only got precious seconds of life left.

7. LONELINESS - You've been secluded, locked away, and the emptiness is overwhelming. You need company, or you might just drown.

8. UNWANTED SOCIAL FUNCTION - A family reunion, your three o'clock board meeting, whatever it is, you desperately don't want to go. Hopefully your good buddy can come up with a distraction.

9. BAD ROMANCE - You're trapped in a relationship that's headed south. Maybe it's an arranged marriage, or maybe it's just someone who won't take no for an answer. You need a helping hand, maybe even a Prince(ss) Charming.

10. WILDCARD - Any kind of rescue will do! Spread your creative wings and go for it.

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Bacon, eggs, some toasted bread. I only have teas to drink.

[The Sisters were unable or unwilling to trade for coffee from the Ottomans, so Hector's been having to do without. Just another tiny torture they'd inflicted on him.

He drags the table closer so she can reach her plate without getting up.]

Eat slowly, otherwise you might make yourself sick.

[Shock has a way of creeping up on a person once the adrenaline of fight or flight fades.]

Do you have ginger root? For tea?

[Sypha hopes that he does. It is wonderful for the stomach, but difficult to find unless you are in a city lucky enough to be along a trade route to the East. Sypha's tribe hoarded their small stash as if it were gold until they could trade for it. She could really use something to stop her stomach from doing what felt like somersaults.

Hector is very kind, bringing the table nearer. She reaches for the toasted bread, careful to take small bites, chewing thoroughly: eggs and bacon are a bit beyond her at this point.]

I wish that every time I fought with vampires and night creatures, there was someone to cook hot breakfast.

[Sypha attempts a joke; she needs to keep her mind off her nausea and pain, but not allow it to be lulled by the food and the warmth so she passes out. She hopes that talking is a good strategy to stay alert, but to keep her mind off of the immediacies of her injured body.]

The supply's limited, but I think I have enough for a cup or two.

[During Dracula's reign, it wouldn't have been hard for a vampire lord to get spices from abroad. But when the factions splintered off after his death, negotiations crumbled and trade routes that kept the courts in their luxuries shut down.

Hector does his best to stretch the last sliver of ginger root as far as he can.]

Kill more vampire lords and I'll cook you any meal you need.

[Gone are the days of sympathizing with vampires. Now, Hector just doesn't trust anyone.]

[Sypha watches as Hector puts the kettle on to boil again for tea, nibbling at the toast in her hand. The solidity and blandness of the bread is doing wonders for her nausea already.]

I will kill as many vampire lords as you wish, if you keep supplying me with this toast. This is very good.

[Sypha is being sincere. It is good quality bread; grainy and hearty; much better than the always-slightly-stale Speaker waybread she is used to, or the low-quality bread served to them at various taverns and inns.]

How many vampire lords do you know, Hector?

[All that work to cook eggs and meat, and it's the toast she praises. Of course. He shakes his head at the Speaker.]

It's just bread. There's some baker from the village the Sisters terrified into working for them.

[The villagers keep their heads down, trying to leverage any skills and services they can to offer their vampire mistresses to save their own necks.]

I have no idea, actually. I'm behind on my vampire politics, and there's been some heavy turnover lately.

[He knows those who had been active at the time of Dracula's war, but that intel is likely outdated.]

[There is an art to not burning toast, especially if you're using an open flame, and Sypha appreciates it. Trevor is lovely, but he always burns the bread.]

Indeed.

['Turnover' is one way to put it. Sypha decides not to go in to that. But given Hector's ... current position, she cannot help but be curious.]

And this, is this also due to outdated politics?

[She gestures vaguely around her, her attempt at a sly segue slightly marred by an inability to articulate herself as well as she would like.]

I'm hoping it is.

[If Sypha's companions can be trusted to finish the last sister, it will be.]

I knew all of the vampire generals in Dracula's court. Not sure how many survived the fall of Dracula's castle, but if any are still active, I can offer my impressions of their strengths and vulnerabilities.

[The binding spell does not require he be loyal to any vampires other than the sisters.]

But you are not a vampire yourself, so how would you know this?

[Blunt, but she is curious. He seems a prisoner, but is more well set up than any prisoner scenario that Sypha could imagine. He has power over Night Creatures. He is bound, or compelled at the point of pain, by the magical ring around his finger. There are so many mysterious things about Hector, and at this point Sypha is not sure if he is being evasive of her questions out of fear of the ring, or because he simply does not want to be any more forthcoming.

She sighs. The pain is dulling her mind, causing her to be frustrated with complexities beyond her control.]

Forgive me. I am impatient.

Because I was there for a time.

[He leaves it there for now. Not because he's enspelled to silence, but because he doesn't want to say any more. Dracula had been something like a mentor to him once, and Hector had betrayed him. Yes, Dracula has been mad, but even in his madness, he'd never mistreated Hector.]

Eat more. Drink your tea. The interrogation can wait until you're well enough to stand.

Oh. I am sorry.

[Sypha digests this information. She has no memories of seeing humans in the castle, during that frenzied run of ice and fire and blood to finally facing down Dracula; she had been rather single-minded. She is not sure if she is apologizing for her not having seen him, or saved him, or that he was involved in the first place.

She is so tired. She heeds Hector's words without even one dig about his being a mother hen. Her eyes drift closed, listening to the small domestic noises of cutlery clinking against plates, though she knows she should stay awake. It is so warm here. Not sleeping is a chore; oblivion would be preferable to the pain in her leg, and her head is so heavy...]

What will you do now?

Edited 2020-10-14 03:19 (UTC)

[Hector watches the struggle wordlessly. Perhaps if she falls asleep before her companions return, he can try to steal away and see how far he gets.]

Before all of this, I lived in seclusion on the isle of Rh...Rhineia.

[He realizes partway through saying it that he shouldn't tell hunters exactly where to find him, and changes mid-word into a lie.]

If I'm able, I'll go back there. It wasn't a bad life. I was able to work in peace.

[She does not consciously notice his little slip. Later, her memory will perhaps insert it in her recollection of this moment, but for now it passes by unremarked on.]

That sounds peaceful.

[She agrees, sleepily. This is a battle that Sypha is losing.]

What is your work?

It was. Very quiet. I underestimated how much I would miss that.

[He begins cleaning up the cooking supplies. There's not really a need, since he's abandoning this place, but it gives him something to do.]

I forged. When I found something broken, I fixed it, and sometimes I made new things, just to see if I could.

[His voice is quiet, wistful. It had been more of the former, back then. Making pets, restoring balance when men killed more than their share of wild creatures. It hadn't been a bad life, he reflects. Could he even go back to that life now? Probably not, now that the vampire world knew what forgemasters were capable of. But he can pretend, at least.]

I as well.

[She is not going to think about her grandfather's caravan, the simple life of travel from town to town, the quiet camaraderie of others dedicated to knowledge, the straightforward ethical path of aid. She feels a pang that has nothing to do with her injured leg.]

A life of making instead of breaking sounds wonderful.

[Sypha is murmuring now. She creates, only with the objective of destruction. But how much better to use her talents for building, for making, to channel her heat into fires of renewal and ice into preservation and protection. Her mind wanders, slipping into a half-dream of creation.]

[Sypha begins nodding off. So trusting, or so exhausted. Hector sets down the cleaned pan and silently crosses the room to the window.

There's no sign of a fight anymore. If he just walked out, Sypha would likely be safe enough in his cottage. It has no threshold, but there aren't any vampires left. Probably.

He could just start walking, and see how far he makes it. If not all of his night creatures are dead, he has a fighting chance.

But there's still the ring's enchantment, and the knowledge that other vampires will come for him as soon as they hear of the Sisters' fall.

To stay, and place his fate in the hands of an unknown mage, or to go, parting peacefully and relying on himself for survival...]

((ooc: Do you want to wrap here, or go into Sypha helping break the ring off of Hector?))

[Hector doesn't have the chance to act on the impulse to fly; soon, his cottage is filled with two very large men who, after some rote threatening, strike an uneasy truce in order to get Sypha somewhere safer to heal in peace. They bring Hector along as captive for lack of a better plan for how to deal with the forgemaster until Sypha wakes and can tell them what has transpired.

Sypha is out like a light, so she completely misses the mens' methods of travel. When she wakes, she is in a four-poster bed in a room of stone hung with tapestries.

Nature is calling with an urgency that is nearly painful, but when Sypha moves to sit up to grab for the bedpan under the bed, a fire in her leg roars to life and she can't help but cry out. She manages not to completely embarrass herself using the bedpan by being very careful, then eases back into bed to check her bandages.

Someone has expertly dressed the wound, and while it throbs, it is not quite as painful as she remembers it being in Hector's cottage.

Disoriented, she begins to look around herself at the room. Where is she ...?]

[Hector isn't far away when he hears the cry from Sypha's chamber. Sypha's two companions left him with very clear instructions, and even clearer threats if he strays from them. Luckily for him, when he gets to the door, he hears the sound of water hitting a pan before he flings the door open.

He'll just... wait a few minutes, then go in to check. Bursting in on her now would surely get him killed at least three times over.

Once he's sure she's finished her business, he knocks once, then opens the door.]

You know, when I said you should keep off of your leg, I didn't mean 'pass out for three days'.

[She looks rumpled and exhausted, but there's been no sign of the infection he'd cautioned her about earlier, so that is good. He comes in and takes a seat in the chair beside the bed.]

You are lucky Lord Dracula's son studied his mother's craft. You should mend up well.

[Sypha's wonderings are interrupted by a voice that she knows. She glances up to see Hector, looking - well, looking a lot better than the last time she'd seen him. He isn't as ruddy in the cheeks as a perfectly healthy man, but he looks a whole lot less deathly pale and defeated. Her eyes follow him as he takes a seat near her.]

Three days?

[That was... longer than expected. She digests his next words. "Lord Dracula", hm.]

Where are we? Are Trevor and Alucard well? Did they -

[She glances at his hand, catches sight of a small black band, still there.]

[Hector's eyes look heavenward for strength at the mention of the two hunters, though there's never been any help for him from that direction before.]

They are out killing things... or scouting for information... or doing whatever it is monster hunters do. They were not precisely forthcoming with me, only said if I didn't take perfect care of you while they were out, they'd use me to figure out whose magical weapon is better at splitting open a body.

[Of course the two of them had even had to turn threats into a competition. Hector is glad Sypha is awake now, so that he can at least speak with someone sane.

The ring's still on, but thankfully, Belmont and Baby Dracula didn't think to take the paired rings from the hands of any of the Sisters they killed, so Hector's mind isn't under new management. He still can't get the bloody thing off, but at least there's no new orders coming through it.]

[Despite herself, Sypha smiles. That sounds exactly like them, and she can imagine how frustrated Hector must have been in the moment.]

Good, I am glad.

Not about them threatening you, of course, just that they are well. And in good spirits, it sounds like.

[She shifts a bit to sit up better in the bed.]

Though I wonder what constitutes "good care", come to think of it.

[They have very different definitions of "good spirits".]

Don't expect me to wait on you hand and foot.

[He says after their last interaction was literally him serving her breakfast. Shhhhh.

He motions at her leg.]

But I would like to check on your bandage.

The thought had not crossed my mind. Though, no chance for toast?

[Oh, she remembers.]

I suppose that is a good idea, yes.

[Bandages, then breakfast. Sensible, she reluctantly agrees. Sypha flips the bedcovers back; Alucard has been solicitous in removing her soiled clothes and replacing them with a simple shift. She pulls it up a bit to more fully expose the bandages on her thigh for Hector to inspect. No bleed-through, so that is a positive, though Sypha is the furthest thing from a healer so that is about as much as she is able to tell.]

Nothing so nice as last time. I have yet to be entrusted with a knife for slicing bread.

[He checks the bandage-- dry and still in place-- and feels the bare skin around it. Not overheated like infected skin would be. The medicine Alucard mixed up must be doing its work.]

Looks like you'll live.

[He leans back from the bed.]

No toast, but I can get you some soup if you're hungry.

[Sypha wonders if Trevor and Alucard were able to get more of Hector's story than she was, and if the no-knife restrictions are due to that, or due to the fact that he is an unknown quantity. She can't help but flick her eyes to his ring as he says that.

His fingers on her skin are cool but not unduly so and there is no redness, which she guesses is a good thing. Hector confirms this.]

Well, that is a relief.

[What is also a relief is that Hector seems completely unbothered by touching the skin of her upper thigh, which Sypha has no problem with in the context of having a life-threatening wound checked (Speakers tend to be very practical about these things). In her experience, though, non-Speakers would almost always get awkward about touching or being touched by another human in certain areas. Her grandfather's caravan had been run of a town once, memorably, due to a merchant taking great offense while Ioanna the healer was just trying to do her job to treat his injuries.]

Soup would be very welcome.

[She sits back on the pillows, rearranging the blankets. And then you can tell me more about that ring of yours, Hector. But first, she needs food.]

[Hector has no qualms about touching around the wound. It needs doing, and most of the subjects he's worked on have been dead. They've never complained about silly things like propriety.]

You should still take it easy for a few days. The Belmont mentioned getting a wagon for you.

[Not to Hector, mind you. Neither hunter spoke much to him so far, other than to make threats. They'd been too preoccupied with their injured Speaker to spare the time to interrogate him properly, much less inform them of their plans beyond what he overheard.

As Sypha settles back down, he goes to fill her a bowl of soup from the pot by the kitchen fire. A hot broth with bits of fish and vegetables, nothing too strenuous on a recovering stomach, but something to warm and fill.

He sets the bowl on the little table beside Sypha's bed so she can grab it once she's sat back up and gotten herself settled.]

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sorry for the super delayed tag! life is a jerk.

No worries!

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didn't plan on her falling asleep on him, but here we are, sorry XD

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