[Alucard doesn't want to float. Not yet. Not until he has to, because it's useful and he doesn't want to lose the relative element of surprise it allows for.
He sees the eyes. Their glow. It's not looking in a mirror, but it is close. Intentional, if he had to make a bet, and he doesn't care for it at all. Alucard ignores their gaze, trekking through the fog that is now starting to coil around his feet. His movement slows, as if the fog is ankle deep mud instead.
Then he realizes witch does not refer to Sypha, and his grip on her hand grows tighter. There's a plea in it, anchor me, because the fae are picking at barely scabbed over wounds.]
Low and easy attack.
[He can spit out that much. But in it, he shudders, because he's never heard his mother's last moments. Never wanted to imagine them, and this is as close to recording as he might ever get. Alucard's shoulders go up, try to cover his ears even though it is impossible.]
no subject
[Alucard doesn't want to float. Not yet. Not until he has to, because it's useful and he doesn't want to lose the relative element of surprise it allows for.
He sees the eyes. Their glow. It's not looking in a mirror, but it is close. Intentional, if he had to make a bet, and he doesn't care for it at all. Alucard ignores their gaze, trekking through the fog that is now starting to coil around his feet. His movement slows, as if the fog is ankle deep mud instead.
Then he realizes witch does not refer to Sypha, and his grip on her hand grows tighter. There's a plea in it, anchor me, because the fae are picking at barely scabbed over wounds.]
Low and easy attack.
[He can spit out that much. But in it, he shudders, because he's never heard his mother's last moments. Never wanted to imagine them, and this is as close to recording as he might ever get. Alucard's shoulders go up, try to cover his ears even though it is impossible.]
Are you hearing the same thing as I am?