He's trying to protect himself from vampires, somehow. It's no use against Alucard, but they can't be certain that the man knows that. If he's not trying to protect himself against Alucard, that means there are other vampires that he's dealing with. As if there weren't already more than enough reasons to hate every last bit of this.
If it weren't for the situation, there'd be a novelty to being able to tap into Alucard's intent. All his studying, everything Arn taught him on the nights when they just talked and talked to avoid thinking too hard - most of it is locked away from him by his own weak will. But Alucard, Alucard is capable of all of it. He just needs to be directed.
There's a yell of pain. An index and middle finger hit the ground. Right hand. Which would be ideal, if the man weren't, from Trevor's observations, left handed.
But he's human. He hurts like a human, and it's the most satisfying thing in the world to hear his choked cry of pain through Alucard's sharp ears, every tiny tremble of the voice in it. He clutches at it, caught off guard for one precious moment, and then breaks a small glass sphere at his neck, releasing a dark fog that coils around him.
That's his escape plan, and that's Trevor's cue. He finishes scrawling the spell just in time for a beam of light to lance through the necromancer, cutting through the fog and keeping him from whisking him away and replacing him with one of his dolls. No. He fights as himself. ]
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He's trying to protect himself from vampires, somehow. It's no use against Alucard, but they can't be certain that the man knows that. If he's not trying to protect himself against Alucard, that means there are other vampires that he's dealing with. As if there weren't already more than enough reasons to hate every last bit of this.
If it weren't for the situation, there'd be a novelty to being able to tap into Alucard's intent. All his studying, everything Arn taught him on the nights when they just talked and talked to avoid thinking too hard - most of it is locked away from him by his own weak will. But Alucard, Alucard is capable of all of it. He just needs to be directed.
There's a yell of pain. An index and middle finger hit the ground. Right hand. Which would be ideal, if the man weren't, from Trevor's observations, left handed.
But he's human. He hurts like a human, and it's the most satisfying thing in the world to hear his choked cry of pain through Alucard's sharp ears, every tiny tremble of the voice in it. He clutches at it, caught off guard for one precious moment, and then breaks a small glass sphere at his neck, releasing a dark fog that coils around him.
That's his escape plan, and that's Trevor's cue. He finishes scrawling the spell just in time for a beam of light to lance through the necromancer, cutting through the fog and keeping him from whisking him away and replacing him with one of his dolls. No. He fights as himself. ]