[ Through some combination of herculean effort and an idiot's luck, Trevor manages to fall in such a way as to catch Sypha. He can handle the back of his head smacking against against the stone floor with a horrible crack, god knows his skull is thick enough.
He gulps down air, shaking Sypha's shoulders until she shudders and coughs and finally breathes in, fingertips digging into the cloth of her robes. ]
Fucking hate shit messing with my head.
[ He pushes himself into a sitting position, careful not to roll Sypha off him by doing so, and brings his hand up to that old bite scar at his collar out of habit. Nothing there, of course.
Light flows out from the now- open door. Beyond it is a pair of rooms. The first looks to be a clinic. Bottles and books line every surface. Pages have been torn out of some of them, pinned to walls or shelves and covered with annotations in handwriting that seems to have started careful and artful and grown wild and desperate. Bloodstained cloths and bandages are scattered around the floor and over a bed with bloodied linens.
Attached to the clinic is what appears to be its owners quarters, and it is so immaculate as to seem completely unused. The bed certainly hadn't been used in a long time even before this place fell under its spell.
And there is the dog. The tiny, yappy sort, the kind that might have been useful for ratting if this particular one was not very clearly extremely spoiled. Lying on the blood-covered bed in the clinic, whining sadly but unharmed. It gives a yip of welcome and bounds over to Alucard, sniffing at him and yipping again. ]
no subject
He gulps down air, shaking Sypha's shoulders until she shudders and coughs and finally breathes in, fingertips digging into the cloth of her robes. ]
Fucking hate shit messing with my head.
[ He pushes himself into a sitting position, careful not to roll Sypha off him by doing so, and brings his hand up to that old bite scar at his collar out of habit. Nothing there, of course.
Light flows out from the now- open door. Beyond it is a pair of rooms. The first looks to be a clinic. Bottles and books line every surface. Pages have been torn out of some of them, pinned to walls or shelves and covered with annotations in handwriting that seems to have started careful and artful and grown wild and desperate. Bloodstained cloths and bandages are scattered around the floor and over a bed with bloodied linens.
Attached to the clinic is what appears to be its owners quarters, and it is so immaculate as to seem completely unused. The bed certainly hadn't been used in a long time even before this place fell under its spell.
And there is the dog. The tiny, yappy sort, the kind that might have been useful for ratting if this particular one was not very clearly extremely spoiled. Lying on the blood-covered bed in the clinic, whining sadly but unharmed. It gives a yip of welcome and bounds over to Alucard, sniffing at him and yipping again. ]