[She's quiet then, for a minute. Not that she has a minute to think about any of this, when time is so precious and help is so needed, but she thinks about it anyway. Drugging Alucard to overrule his objections. Trevor, left despondent by the recognition that if this is taken to its natural conclusion, he might not be enough.

Both of them, both of her boys — this stupid regency has taken so much from both of them. Demanded so much. Put so many scars upon them.

(Alucard's scars are on her arms. She'd told him he had to beg himself for forgiveness for those, not her.)

She licks her lips, teeth still worrying at the lower one; it'll be chapped and nicked by the time this is through.]

I could...try wind. Ice would do but I don't think he can stand to be lying on something so cold for so long. But wind is fickle and hard to...

[A pause.]

Are you sure you can carry him, as you are now? If you're not made any less steady.