[ The first few nights, he slept like a dead man. Despite Sypha's worries, that had been the only real indication that he'd given that he was in anything but the best condition. For a glorious few days he'd been the gleaming last scion of the protectors of Wallachia, unshaken by loss and torment. Adrenaline and the taste of freedom are strong, strong things.
But they only last so long, and while it's been a mercy in many ways that the last few nights have been more peaceful than the first few it has meant that that adrenaline has slowly ebbed away. In its absence has been left a shadow of a man, a pale moon to the sun he was a year ago. He stands lopsided, won't face the sun with his ruined eye, jumps at shadows. And unless he can find a way to get a drink at night, he sleeps like a man ordered to remain awake and threatened with another whipping the moment his eye closes.
Sypha doesn't like him drinking, says it slows his recovery, and he doesn't like to argue with her. She worries so much already, he doesn't want to tell her something is wrong. So he waits for her to sleep before sneaking out. Just one drink. Just enough to sleep. He chooses the tavern near the outskirts of town. A rougher place, probably with beer like watered down piss, but he doesn't trust the innkeeper at the place they're staying not to tell Sypha.
A man pushes past him roughly, running like he's seen a ghost, and Trevor's thoughts are no longer on beer. He doesn't have his whip, but if something's spooked the man so badly- it could be the hordes. He takes off in the opposite direction, toward whatever the man's running from. And practically trips over their vampire.
Shit. ]
Adrian.
[ He crouches by Alucard, putting a hand on his shoulder while he looks about with narrowed eyes. ]
no subject
But they only last so long, and while it's been a mercy in many ways that the last few nights have been more peaceful than the first few it has meant that that adrenaline has slowly ebbed away. In its absence has been left a shadow of a man, a pale moon to the sun he was a year ago. He stands lopsided, won't face the sun with his ruined eye, jumps at shadows. And unless he can find a way to get a drink at night, he sleeps like a man ordered to remain awake and threatened with another whipping the moment his eye closes.
Sypha doesn't like him drinking, says it slows his recovery, and he doesn't like to argue with her. She worries so much already, he doesn't want to tell her something is wrong. So he waits for her to sleep before sneaking out. Just one drink. Just enough to sleep. He chooses the tavern near the outskirts of town. A rougher place, probably with beer like watered down piss, but he doesn't trust the innkeeper at the place they're staying not to tell Sypha.
A man pushes past him roughly, running like he's seen a ghost, and Trevor's thoughts are no longer on beer. He doesn't have his whip, but if something's spooked the man so badly- it could be the hordes. He takes off in the opposite direction, toward whatever the man's running from. And practically trips over their vampire.
Shit. ]
Adrian.
[ He crouches by Alucard, putting a hand on his shoulder while he looks about with narrowed eyes. ]
Is something here?