[ He can see individual strands of Alucard's hair.
That's his first coherent thought. He never could before. He could feel them, but to his eyes it was all one big golden, flowing, soft mass. His eyes are sharper, so much sharper, and when he blinks (does he need to?) there's none of the roughness of a scarred left eye against the inside of the eyelid.
He's still, now, save for his fingertips still twitching up and down, playing at trying to form fists but failing. ]
I'm sorry.
[ He manages to speak eventually, drawing in one gasping breath to speak. He can't feel anything, really, anything at all save for the residual pain, but the knowledge that this blood must have got here somewhere, that that horrible bruise on Sypha's wrist must have come from something. Even if the guilt's not hit him yet, he knows he's hurt them both. ]
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That's his first coherent thought. He never could before. He could feel them, but to his eyes it was all one big golden, flowing, soft mass. His eyes are sharper, so much sharper, and when he blinks (does he need to?) there's none of the roughness of a scarred left eye against the inside of the eyelid.
He's still, now, save for his fingertips still twitching up and down, playing at trying to form fists but failing. ]
I'm sorry.
[ He manages to speak eventually, drawing in one gasping breath to speak. He can't feel anything, really, anything at all save for the residual pain, but the knowledge that this blood must have got here somewhere, that that horrible bruise on Sypha's wrist must have come from something. Even if the guilt's not hit him yet, he knows he's hurt them both. ]