[Maybe in older times, Alucard would have a more poetic metaphor for whatever this is. Talk of an alchemist's crucible, where elements are put together, heated over the whitest of flames, and what comes out is transmuted into something wholly unique. But now, here, there's no such language. Only thoughts of handling a delicate situation with slip-proof gloves, while guiding that situation across a greased floor. Or approaching a skittish horse who is likely to stomp you to death.
Neither is great. Both are apt.
Trevor's mind is in too many places. That much Alucard can say with confidence, even before Trevor reaches for him. It's glaringly obvious from the way Trevor holds himself, and it's probably a good thing there's no more drink in the house. Alucard doubts that this conversation would be happening otherwise.
Not that it's truly much of a conversation, but they are both stubborn idiots. They aren't Sypha, born of Speakers and thus equipped to use language as she does. Actions are far easier, and being dragged over into Trevor's arms is all that needs to be said right now. Whatever thoughts exist within Trevor's mind right now do not negate the need for Alucard to be precisely where he is right now.
Before Alucard even tries to settle against Trevor, he angles himself at just the right spot to kiss Trevor's forehead. It's sappier than the dhampir might usually risk, but it feels right in this moment to try and be reassuring. Hell if Alucard can articulate why.
Then there's the rest of him. One arm moves down to wrap around Trevor's midsection, and the other moves over his shoulder so Alucard's hand to thread through Trevor's hair. He can lie. Excuse the gesture as starting to pick out all the tiny little knots that are doubtlessly there, but there's no real effort to undo them. That would require sharp, fine vampire fingernails, and Alucard's are pointedly blunt right now. All he cares about is the repetition of the gesture, and that it be a natural thing. Not something that can be read as pity.
There's a soft sigh, one Trevor doubtlessly hears. His next few words are practically whispered.]
no subject
Neither is great. Both are apt.
Trevor's mind is in too many places. That much Alucard can say with confidence, even before Trevor reaches for him. It's glaringly obvious from the way Trevor holds himself, and it's probably a good thing there's no more drink in the house. Alucard doubts that this conversation would be happening otherwise.
Not that it's truly much of a conversation, but they are both stubborn idiots. They aren't Sypha, born of Speakers and thus equipped to use language as she does. Actions are far easier, and being dragged over into Trevor's arms is all that needs to be said right now. Whatever thoughts exist within Trevor's mind right now do not negate the need for Alucard to be precisely where he is right now.
Before Alucard even tries to settle against Trevor, he angles himself at just the right spot to kiss Trevor's forehead. It's sappier than the dhampir might usually risk, but it feels right in this moment to try and be reassuring. Hell if Alucard can articulate why.
Then there's the rest of him. One arm moves down to wrap around Trevor's midsection, and the other moves over his shoulder so Alucard's hand to thread through Trevor's hair. He can lie. Excuse the gesture as starting to pick out all the tiny little knots that are doubtlessly there, but there's no real effort to undo them. That would require sharp, fine vampire fingernails, and Alucard's are pointedly blunt right now. All he cares about is the repetition of the gesture, and that it be a natural thing. Not something that can be read as pity.
There's a soft sigh, one Trevor doubtlessly hears. His next few words are practically whispered.]
It makes me happy, whatever it is.