[He's holding the antler and he's wearing Trevor's face. Alucard doesn't care, because he knows the truth of all of this. When he tears a hunk of flesh away from Not Trevor's throat, the blood is red and tastes so very human. There's no green, there's no distinct taste of the fae wilds, there is only human.
Overhead, the thunder sounds a second time and there is a note of approval in the long, low, rolling noise.
Alucard spits out the flesh, staring down at the Collector of Parts with absolute fury.]
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Overhead, the thunder sounds a second time and there is a note of approval in the long, low, rolling noise.
Alucard spits out the flesh, staring down at the Collector of Parts with absolute fury.]
You were not wrong about blood in the air.