[Don't let go of me she says and he doesn't. Sypha is flush against him, close as they can be without venturing into more physical embraces. Don't let go of me she says and his arms are as tight as he feels is safe. Don't let go of me and Alucard finds it the easiest thing in the world to set aside the guilt he has for putting those terrible clawmarks on her arms because Sypha has asked this of him and he cannot deny her anything. Not that it wasn't true before, but now, now it has a new and greater urgency.

But she asks for words, and for a few moments, the only thing he can say is her name. Sighed with every breath, the intonation still so scared, still so relieved at her presence, still so caught up it is as if he is reliving the moment of finding her again and again and again and again and.

It is unfair to force that thoughts upon her. So Alucard tries so hard to say something. Anything.]

I'm not one of your people, I could never say the right words. Compose an aretalogy of all your deeds and have it read correctly, with epitaphs that suit you and only you. Call you the right things that become story, become legend, because that's how this ends for you after a very, very long life. [Nothing ends here.] I can say you're the only fire I'll hold so tightly and maybe that's all I can manage in a poetic enough way. Everything else falls away and forces me silent because you are beyond every word I could hope to even think of afixing to you.

[He breathes out, repeating her name again.]