[That had been de Rais' plan, hadn't it? The authority of the name Belmont to bring in all those dark things under control in full. Possibly exterminate them, all because the three had failed to find balance between what they owed to the world and what they owed to each other. (It is a question all that live must find an answer to. It is a question none has a response for until they pass.) It aches to know that part of Trevor might have agreed to it. It is worse when he says the all too correct thing: that only two could have stopped him, and they never would. For guilt perhaps, or refusal to go down the road of killing someone so loved again, or their righteous rage that this had come to pass.
It would be a novel. Not a note.
(He'd be beside Trevor for it, wouldnn't he? Sypha might pass, but he would not. Then they'd tear everything down together, clinging to each other and to memory, and they would be worse than their fathers and forefathers ever could be.)
This can only be draining the poison. Alucard tells himself that, and God if the only light in all of this is how the return of vision let him see Sypha so very, very clearly. It's something Alucard takes for granted. He won't again. He'll make sure Trevor knows, especially in a month from now. Whisper all the details he's missing when they both see her dressed in full, and then again when they're in bed for the first time together.
Then all is done. This is to be sealed.
Alucard leans over. The first and last time his lips shall ever touch Trevor's neck. He puts the softest kiss he can on the place where dead skin and living meet, and in that moment, he realizes that this is the same spot where he almost tore Trevor's throat out. Almost exact. There is such a soft gasp of realization that he might as well be a summer wind sighing.
Then he withdraws. Puts either hand on each side of Trevor's cheek, kisses forehead.]
no subject
It would be a novel. Not a note.
(He'd be beside Trevor for it, wouldnn't he? Sypha might pass, but he would not. Then they'd tear everything down together, clinging to each other and to memory, and they would be worse than their fathers and forefathers ever could be.)
This can only be draining the poison. Alucard tells himself that, and God if the only light in all of this is how the return of vision let him see Sypha so very, very clearly. It's something Alucard takes for granted. He won't again. He'll make sure Trevor knows, especially in a month from now. Whisper all the details he's missing when they both see her dressed in full, and then again when they're in bed for the first time together.
Then all is done. This is to be sealed.
Alucard leans over. The first and last time his lips shall ever touch Trevor's neck. He puts the softest kiss he can on the place where dead skin and living meet, and in that moment, he realizes that this is the same spot where he almost tore Trevor's throat out. Almost exact. There is such a soft gasp of realization that he might as well be a summer wind sighing.
Then he withdraws. Puts either hand on each side of Trevor's cheek, kisses forehead.]
We're done.