[And that? Sypha had been rattled before, but that's the moment when rattled turns to terrified.
There's compulsion, and then there's this. Compulsion she understands; compulsion is something she's used, even, usually with care but sometimes not. But this? This is greater, more oppressive, more encompassing than just an order or a whim imposed on her. This is the weight of a magic she couldn't begin to hope to stand against, played out in an arena where she is supposed to be a master in her own right.
He puts words in her mouth, in her mind. He dictates the story, drops it fully-formed into her mind and forces it out through her puppeteered tongue, and she speaks the reply like a call and response at Trevor's church whether she wants to do it or not.
It's a block of ice dropped into the pit of her stomach. It's every warning her culture ever spoke of, all brought into practice in an instant.
It's the sudden, and very real, understanding of why her grandfather had tried to turn Alucard away, to avoid the chance of bringing this down upon them from Dracula's notice.
Her lips feel dry, when she finishes the response he compels from her. Her skin must be white as a sheet, and not just from the bloodloss. And she's left speechless, for one of the rare times in her life when words simply fail her, but this time it's not because she's distracted or teased or happy; it's as though they've simply been ripped right out of her altogether.]
no subject
There's compulsion, and then there's this. Compulsion she understands; compulsion is something she's used, even, usually with care but sometimes not. But this? This is greater, more oppressive, more encompassing than just an order or a whim imposed on her. This is the weight of a magic she couldn't begin to hope to stand against, played out in an arena where she is supposed to be a master in her own right.
He puts words in her mouth, in her mind. He dictates the story, drops it fully-formed into her mind and forces it out through her puppeteered tongue, and she speaks the reply like a call and response at Trevor's church whether she wants to do it or not.
It's a block of ice dropped into the pit of her stomach. It's every warning her culture ever spoke of, all brought into practice in an instant.
It's the sudden, and very real, understanding of why her grandfather had tried to turn Alucard away, to avoid the chance of bringing this down upon them from Dracula's notice.
Her lips feel dry, when she finishes the response he compels from her. Her skin must be white as a sheet, and not just from the bloodloss. And she's left speechless, for one of the rare times in her life when words simply fail her, but this time it's not because she's distracted or teased or happy; it's as though they've simply been ripped right out of her altogether.]