Shadow's Play
Chapter: IV. The Clever Crow's Mockery
Pairings: Isaac/Trevor
Warnings: Not many at all, sadly. PG-13. Much poking fun at Trevor, though.
Summary: Now in the depths of shame and haunting visions of his incubus, Trevor makes his way to his friends, but when there's no room for him there, either, he finds shelter in a ghost town, distubed by the Hunter's Moon overhead.
Font color this time around?: Mauve, like Julia's fluttering silk ribbon past Trevor's vision.



Upon entering Julia’s house, the witch had already given him an ‘I am a woman, I catch on to everything’ look, and a testing sniff his way. Thankfully, she did not utter a word and let him in.

He tried his hardest not to break into a humiliated flush. Instead, he sat down at her small wooden table across from Hector who often frequented her house leisurely. He already had a cup of tea in hand, eyeing him over the cracked china.

“Why my good Belmont, what is the purpose of your honored visit to my humble—“

“Hole in the mountain?” Hector finished with an amused tone of voice. He earned a good witch’s glare from this. He simply smiled back at her cheerily. But she turned back to Trevor, nodding, eyes questioning.

Trevor placed his whip on the table with a soft clatter and waved her words away. “Cut the charm, my dear witch, there’s no need.”

Julia rolled her eyes at him and turned, silk ribbon fluttering slightly in the candlelight—reminding Trevor of the feel of Isaac’s bed silks against his bare thighs. He shook his head to clear his mind of the thought as Julia moved to the fire pit in the corner to coax the embers to warm the water there. “Fine.” She retorted, “Why are you here then?” She looked over her shoulder at him suspiciously. She’s smelt sex on the man the minute she’d opened the door to his ragged self, that and the faint whiff of something even more interesting… the scent of French cologne. She only knew of one person who wore such unnecessary extravagance.

Trevor gave her a cool gaze, “I recall when I left your doorstep days ago healed to the bone you telling me of how I should come for tea any time I’d like.”

She snorted, very unfitting for a lady, yet very fitting for the family she belonged to. “You do realize my dear Belmont, the remark was made purely for being polite. I really had no intention of making you tea at unearthly hours of the day when you felt the whim to stop by.” She quipped.

A choked noise sounded from Hector across the table, and then uproarious laughter came from him, who apparently found this exchange wildly amusing. Trevor lifted a regal eyebrow at him, and Hector instantly quieted, but the smile remained. “My apologies, Belmont, but I find Lady Julia quite the comic.”

“I must say.” He replied dryly as Julia set down a chipped china cup of thick-looking tea by him.

She smiled benevolently at Hector, “My darling Hector, please, do not poke fun at the Belmont or he might whip you.” Julia shot him a mischievous gaze that matched her brother’s but both lady and Hector sobered up when Trevor both shot them an icy glare.

“Alright, alright, what troubles you Trevor?” Hector asked, finishing his cup of tea as Julia snatched the cup away to bob to the teapot above the fire.

Trevor shook his head, running a gloved hand through his chestnut hair frustratedly. Taking a sip of the tea, he wrinkled his nose blurting out, “By God woman, this tea is terrible!”

“That’s it! Out! I don’t have to listen to this!” She fumed, “I don’t care if you are the son of Christ himself, OUT!”

After that, Trevor had gotten himself expelled from Julia’s small house, Hector’s boisterous laughter following them both to the door. He was then followed out the door by a wooden ladle to the head. He dodged it and continued down the worn hill, hearing the door slam after him.

He gave a slight smile. At least they had put him a little more at ease; the only set back now was that he had nowhere to sleep at the moment. Cursing lightly, he looked around and called upon his memory to tell him which way was best.

***

Hours later, some time after dusk he stumbled through the forest of Jigramunt, in through the decrepit gates of the ghost town, Cordova. He was sure no one would mind if he slept in one of their houses, they were all gone, anyway. Run away, to escape the country and the grip of Dracula’s Curse. They’d scattered all among the borders or Muldavia and Dobrogea.

Looking up at the star-speckled sky, he view the blood-red Hunter’s Moon, shivering in remembrance of a similar color. Everything came back in full-circle to him. It must have been October already, Trevor reflected with a bit of surprise. Already? He had lost track of the months lately, not really knowing what to do with himself.

He neared a T in the walk, and went to the right, choosing a particularly inactive part of town. Inactive meaning less monsters to bother him on his way into an abandoned house. Disposing of the two zombies that groaned at him loudly and gurgled acid, he made his tiered way to a boarded door to his side.

He kicked the door harshly and the door flew back into the house, planks splintering rottenly. He huffed, annoyed and walked in, barricading the door closed with a nearby shelf. It should hold for the night, he told himself.

Heaving himself up the stairs, he worried at the back of his mind the steps would give out on him just like the door did. The house smelt of dirt and damp wood, the occasional rat, but it wasn’t that bad. He passed several doors before reaching the open one at the end of the hallway. It had grown dark, and he grew very weary. He staggered to the messy bed, falling into the goose-feathered softness with gratitude. A sigh of relief passed his lips as he fell asleep in all of his clothes, boots and all, Vampire Killer tucked safely under his pillow with one hand resting on it.

He fell into fitful dreams, alluring and elusive images of a red-haired figure, haunting orange eyes…and enthralling laughter that thrummed through his head.

***

In the bleak light of the October morning, Trevor was awoken by tapping at the grimy window above the bed he’d collapsed on the night before.

Blinking and then sitting up slowly, he looked to the window; the sight of a black crow pecking insistently had quite shaken him. A bad omen. Shaking his head at the absurdity of a mother’s warning tale, he opened the window with a protesting creak, and shooed the bird away in hoped of scaring it.

The crow merely hopped away from his hand, cocking its head to the side, looking at him with beady, intelligent eyes. Caw! It called at him wittily, jumping onto his outstretched hand, hopping around insistently.

Sharp blue eyes caught the sight of a parchment attached and his fingers quickly grasped it, untying the twine. The crow cawed at him approvingly and hopped to the window, watching him unravel the paper and scan the contents with clever eyes.


I don’t recall being finished playing with you.
Meet me at the abandoned castle
When the clock tower
Strikes midnight.

With a parting caw to Trevor, the crow flew from its perch on the window, flying back to its master.
 

{[Chapter V ]}