[Alucard doesn't wake. He wants to just stay asleep. Maybe the fae can just do that for him, like in stories.
But food rouses him, and in all his awful thin-ness, Alucard's stomach growls. It's furious even, being punished because the brain of the meatsack is sick in it's own way.
He sits slowly. It's only his arm and the soles of his feet that are in a bad way. The rest is from his own lack of self care, and when Alucard looks to his good arm, he knows he's done himself wrong. The bone is too prominent.]
no subject
But food rouses him, and in all his awful thin-ness, Alucard's stomach growls. It's furious even, being punished because the brain of the meatsack is sick in it's own way.
He sits slowly. It's only his arm and the soles of his feet that are in a bad way. The rest is from his own lack of self care, and when Alucard looks to his good arm, he knows he's done himself wrong. The bone is too prominent.]
You swear it?
[He isn't eating faerie food. He won't.]