[ Waking isn't painless. It's awful, more than likely. His injuries have been tended to, covered with some floral-smelling paste that's since tried into clay and wrapped with soft cloth, but they're still awful.
But when Alucard wakes, it's in a soft bed. The fabric of each induvidual blanket is cool and crisp, but together they're warm. Sunlight streams through a gap in thick curtains that are otherwise keeping the room in shade - too much brightness probably isn't good for his head right now. The smell of jasmine fills the air.
On one side of him, there's a barrier of pillows. On the other side of the barrier, the sound of soft breathing.
A single hand extends through the barrier, through a gap between pillows, to rest on Alucard's less injured one. ]
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But when Alucard wakes, it's in a soft bed. The fabric of each induvidual blanket is cool and crisp, but together they're warm. Sunlight streams through a gap in thick curtains that are otherwise keeping the room in shade - too much brightness probably isn't good for his head right now. The smell of jasmine fills the air.
On one side of him, there's a barrier of pillows. On the other side of the barrier, the sound of soft breathing.
A single hand extends through the barrier, through a gap between pillows, to rest on Alucard's less injured one. ]