[Alucard's question weighs more heavily than perhaps even he realizes, posed to her the way that it's framed. There's a reason she's not often involved in this aspect of Alucard's business, why her role chases after similar goals but in different directions. Trevor is a Belmont, born and bred to be an executioner of things like these. Speakers are made to heal, to help, to preserve, not to destroy.
But they won't act without her, not this time. And maybe on some level that's for the best, when paradoxically enough she's the one best equipped to be objective, even despite also being the one wounded most directly by what the necromancer had done. Alucard's need for vengeance has its roots in the losses of others he's loved before her, and the outrage that this man had nearly taken her from him, too. And Trevor — Trevor was so badly shaken by what was done that he'd begged her to carry his gun because of it, knowing full well what it meant and what making that choice would mean for her.
And yet deep down, she wishes this didn't fall to her. If she had her way, what she wants, what she would want, really, is —]
I want to have never met him.
[At first blush, it sounds almost like a regret — a little burst of melancholy whimsy, pining for a road not taken.
But she is a Speaker, whatever else she might be. And they've known her long enough that they might just recognize a Speaker's curse when they hear it.]
I want no one to remember him. Every bit of him, forgotten. Forever.
no subject
But they won't act without her, not this time. And maybe on some level that's for the best, when paradoxically enough she's the one best equipped to be objective, even despite also being the one wounded most directly by what the necromancer had done. Alucard's need for vengeance has its roots in the losses of others he's loved before her, and the outrage that this man had nearly taken her from him, too. And Trevor — Trevor was so badly shaken by what was done that he'd begged her to carry his gun because of it, knowing full well what it meant and what making that choice would mean for her.
And yet deep down, she wishes this didn't fall to her. If she had her way, what she wants, what she would want, really, is —]
I want to have never met him.
[At first blush, it sounds almost like a regret — a little burst of melancholy whimsy, pining for a road not taken.
But she is a Speaker, whatever else she might be. And they've known her long enough that they might just recognize a Speaker's curse when they hear it.]
I want no one to remember him. Every bit of him, forgotten. Forever.