[She's said it best already. Alucard communicates much better through actions than words. So that means that when Sypha latches onto his wrists, he can only crouch down so they're at eye level. Lean in and try to explain with another kiss.
How he manages both aggression and tenderness in the same moment is a question to be pondered later. All that's clear as lips meet lips, move beyond those down Sypha's neck and then back again, is that what's needed is affection. There's apology threaded in there somewhere too, the horrible weight of knowing that this thing will not leave them unchanged, and coupled with it is gratitude. That she's willing to do this in spite of everything.
His arms leave her wrists. One hand is desperate to get rid of all that red, because it's not her color. Shouldn't become her color either.]
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How he manages both aggression and tenderness in the same moment is a question to be pondered later. All that's clear as lips meet lips, move beyond those down Sypha's neck and then back again, is that what's needed is affection. There's apology threaded in there somewhere too, the horrible weight of knowing that this thing will not leave them unchanged, and coupled with it is gratitude. That she's willing to do this in spite of everything.
His arms leave her wrists. One hand is desperate to get rid of all that red, because it's not her color. Shouldn't become her color either.]