[It's on purpose, the bishop and the flames. Alucard knows it, he knows it because it'd be the dirtiest, shittiest trick for anyone to do. There's enough of him that isn't consumed by rage at the sight of the man to keep the vampire grounded. To not even respond. To keep pace, to get to the well.
His Belmont is on fire. Alucard can't look, even as the flames lick at his face. He remembers that burnt corpse, his mother, and remembers touching charred flesh and having to walk over to the sink to heave everything out of himself. The smell of the flesh brings that memory to the surface, and it's agony to keep holding on.
You can shoulder this. He lies to himself. He's at the well.
Shit.
Does he keep holding on until there's nothing or does he put the body in now...]
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His Belmont is on fire. Alucard can't look, even as the flames lick at his face. He remembers that burnt corpse, his mother, and remembers touching charred flesh and having to walk over to the sink to heave everything out of himself. The smell of the flesh brings that memory to the surface, and it's agony to keep holding on.
You can shoulder this. He lies to himself. He's at the well.
Shit.
Does he keep holding on until there's nothing or does he put the body in now...]