[Oh, he and Trevor both go stiff when the necromancer, the forgemaster, whatever the fuck he wants to be understood as starts talking about Speakers. The tone of it is the kind of interest that is dangerous, possessive in a terrifying way, stinking too much of hunt for it to mean anything good.
Trevor's response is to focus not on Alucard but on the necromancer, the whip smashing into the necromancer's stomach. It seems to do something at least, his top hat falls to the ground, the monocle is out of place. Better that than engaging in the man's pointless banter, the kind of thing that serves as a distraction.
Alucard sends his sword after Trevor's whip, the goal being the man's stomach. A good, deep gut wound, even if he's still rooted to the spot. Rooted and feeling the horrible weight around his torso extend upward, up to where his lungs are, and then there is such a weight.
Shit.
Shit.
There's a sudden gasp for air Alucard's never made before, and it is a testament to his focus that the sword remains on it's path rather than shattering to the ground.]
no subject
Trevor's response is to focus not on Alucard but on the necromancer, the whip smashing into the necromancer's stomach. It seems to do something at least, his top hat falls to the ground, the monocle is out of place. Better that than engaging in the man's pointless banter, the kind of thing that serves as a distraction.
Alucard sends his sword after Trevor's whip, the goal being the man's stomach. A good, deep gut wound, even if he's still rooted to the spot. Rooted and feeling the horrible weight around his torso extend upward, up to where his lungs are, and then there is such a weight.
Shit.
Shit.
There's a sudden gasp for air Alucard's never made before, and it is a testament to his focus that the sword remains on it's path rather than shattering to the ground.]