[She's slipping. She can feel it, her fingers are slipping away and the scars on her arms are beginning to come alight, aching with latent memory as the reek of the incense and the shadows crawling the walls seem to pull her further and further down, away and out of reach. She's slipping, her fingers are coming loose of his hold on her, and the thought occurs to her wildly that if she's going to hold on, she's going to have to make a desperate grab for his wrist.]
Alucard!
[But if she does, there's going to be a single fraction of a moment when she has to let go, and if she does, it will be enough. That loss of contact, even for just that long, will be more than enough.]
no subject
Alucard!
[But if she does, there's going to be a single fraction of a moment when she has to let go, and if she does, it will be enough. That loss of contact, even for just that long, will be more than enough.]