[Ten more seconds. That's easy enough. The reference to not being able to lift her arm is a little more puzzling — why shouldn't she be able to lift her arm? — and it's somewhere around there, when Trevor actually calls attention to it, that she starts to realize just how much blood she's actually lost by doing this, and just what effect it's had on her. When all she's had to do was hold still and watch Alucard's expression for hints of color and mending, it had been fine; she'd been holding still, steady, firm from her convictions.
It doesn't really hit her until she tries to move the hand that isn't pressed to Alucard's mouth, and finds with some surprise that there's a sort of lag between when she decides to move it and when it actually moves — sluggish, slow to respond. Cold, in a way she'd thought was just the chill in the air, or maybe from fear and worry.
Five more seconds. The loss of Trevor's hand in her hair is an ache she feels keenly, even though she knows he's right there with her, right where she can still see him, even. Heal, Adrian; her wrist is tacky and wet and her sleeves are threatening to slip down from her elbows and get in the way.
Three.
Two.
One.
...One.
......One?
She tries to make herself sit back, clumsy and sluggish, and fumbles a little as an odd weight like exhaustion seems to settle around her limbs, like she's too heavy and too high and the air is too thin.
She has to lift her hand above her heart, she reminds herself, and tries her best to get it up there, slow and painstaking but she's so tired, and so she winds up just clasping her hand to the top of her head so that at least there's something to rest it on for the duration.]
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It doesn't really hit her until she tries to move the hand that isn't pressed to Alucard's mouth, and finds with some surprise that there's a sort of lag between when she decides to move it and when it actually moves — sluggish, slow to respond. Cold, in a way she'd thought was just the chill in the air, or maybe from fear and worry.
Five more seconds. The loss of Trevor's hand in her hair is an ache she feels keenly, even though she knows he's right there with her, right where she can still see him, even. Heal, Adrian; her wrist is tacky and wet and her sleeves are threatening to slip down from her elbows and get in the way.
Three.
Two.
One.
...One.
......One?
She tries to make herself sit back, clumsy and sluggish, and fumbles a little as an odd weight like exhaustion seems to settle around her limbs, like she's too heavy and too high and the air is too thin.
She has to lift her hand above her heart, she reminds herself, and tries her best to get it up there, slow and painstaking but she's so tired, and so she winds up just clasping her hand to the top of her head so that at least there's something to rest it on for the duration.]