[ He sits on the floor next to the sofa, leaning against it and reaching up to offer a hand to Alucard again. It's a useless gesture, but it's the one that seems like it'd be closest to being welcome of all the ones he can think of.
(He wants to do more. He wants to pull both of them into his arms, hold them against him and keep them safe. That would not be welcome.) ]
It's- old Belmont business. If someone's at risk of turning, you put transubstantiated communion wine into them. Then the bad blood comes out. And it makes nail holes to do it. Nail holes and thorn holes and spear holes. But it works the other way around, too. Profaned sacrament is pretty fucking potent stuff, if you're treating a vampire. But- you know. Coughing up the silver's better than it coming out through rusty nail-holes in your lungs. Probably.
[ It's easy to talk about this stuff. Belmont things. Things he's memorised. Things that are comfortable, that feel like family and home. Even if they do involve lung stigmata. ]
no subject
(He wants to do more. He wants to pull both of them into his arms, hold them against him and keep them safe. That would not be welcome.) ]
It's- old Belmont business. If someone's at risk of turning, you put transubstantiated communion wine into them. Then the bad blood comes out. And it makes nail holes to do it. Nail holes and thorn holes and spear holes. But it works the other way around, too. Profaned sacrament is pretty fucking potent stuff, if you're treating a vampire. But- you know. Coughing up the silver's better than it coming out through rusty nail-holes in your lungs. Probably.
[ It's easy to talk about this stuff. Belmont things. Things he's memorised. Things that are comfortable, that feel like family and home. Even if they do involve lung stigmata. ]