[ Not the 'you're' alucard was referring to, but after last night he's still primed to expect insults aimed at the Belmonts. His tone is colder. Flatter. He doesn't sound angry or hurt, just tired. Maybe a little disappointed. ]
It will.
[ He was going to leave with that, but he can hear frozen grass crunching a little way away now, Sypha returning from her foraging. He sighs, looking over in that direction. ]
[There's time for the other two to eat while Alucard shifts things around in the back of the wagon, and then it's his turn to drive for the night. The horses don't like him at all, but they move when he urges them two and they only need to rest a few times in the night. They'll have to take a longer break in the morning to allow for them to rest, but that's fine. Alucard feels safer being moving at night.
They're not on smooth roads. Alucard takes quite a few bumps, and under normal circumstances, it should never be a problem. But one awful bump sends Alucard almost flying off the bench, and then he hears the sound of tearing flesh. He doesn't make a noise, but he can tell where.
It's the stitching Trevor did. Of course.
He does nothing. Doesn't stop. Doesn't reach for clean bandages, does nothing. The horses keep moving, and Alucard only has them stop a little ways past dawn, because there is a fresh water stream ahead and the horses need that more than anyone else.
Once parked, Alucard rouses the other two. Well, Sypha, who wakes Trevor and tells him to go take care of breakfast while she takes care of the horses. It's one of the few times all three of them are awake, and Alucard just climbs into the back. The other two are gone. He can pull his shirt up to assess the damage and --]
[ The hunting is bad, and breakfast comes with eggs from an abandoned nest but no meat. It wouldn't be a problem, save for-
-the blood bottle still gets filled, and that's what matters. Blood is blood, no matter what it comes from, and it's only a tiny thing. While Sypha busies herself with dealing with a loose shoe on one of the horses, Trevor enters the wagon with the bottle. ]
Before you sleep- [ He begins, and then actually looks at the stained white shirt. Then at the cut itself. ] -fuck.
[Alucard has peeled his shirt off to try and get a better look at the wound. That means the whole scar is visible, but more than that, the thin trickle of blood coming down his chest is an obvious contrast against his all too pale skin.]
[ Okay, that probably counts as saying something. To his credit, he at least doesn't say anything else. That's the part that he stitched. He's the one who did this to Alucard. He moves past Alucard, picking up the shirt. They have access to water and they're going to be stuck here until the horse is re-shod, so there's time to clean it. Sypha doesn't need to know about the blood. ]
[Alucard shakes his head no. He hates this. He is horrified by the words that come out of his mouth. He almost chokes on them.]
Can't reach, that much is clear to me. I'll assume you're better at this in daylight.
[Not bleeding is more important. Alucard knows his blood is dangerous, and he's around two humans. He isn't so awful as to insist that he put the other two at risk.]
[ He looks at Alucard for a moment, then nods solemnly. It doesn't take long to retrieve the sewing kit again and pick a needle. He digs out a leather strap as well, folding it upon itself and handing it over. ]
Bite down on this. It'll make it easier.
[ His tone is softer. Still flat. Still distant. Still with a far-off undercurrent of hurt, but softer and maybe a little warmer. He kneels by Alucard as he speaks, soaking a cloth with water. ]
[Which is the politest no he's ever, ever given the Belmont. Alucard simply stays still, waiting. He knows the needle was returned to it's little alcohol vial, and so it's sterile. It's just working quickly.]
She's still distracted.
[Sypha doesn't need to know. She won't know if they do it right this time.]
[ He raises an eyebrow, but sets about working. Cleans away the excess blood so that he can actually see what he's doing, then begins stitching.
It is, in some ways, more difficult to do this by eye than by touch. The daylight helps, but light isn't good for his bad eye and focusing both eyes on something for an extended period of time is difficult. It's slower work, but the stitching is neater and he manages not to touch Alucard more than is absolutely necessary. ]
She'll be a while. One of the horses had a shoe come loose. Probably what did this.
[ And his tone softens further as he says that, melting into admiration just a little. She sets things on fire with her brain and she's a half-decent farrier. ]
[That's all he can think of saying. Alucard wants Trevor to just pay attention and do the work, so he doesn't say anything else. It's better, being quiet. Being still so that the situation can get fixed. He's solved many a situation in just that way - hiding himself and holding his breath until the danger has passed.
He's so still. It's the touch but it's also knowing that it's effective for the work. The most Alucard does is look down and try to note if Trevor's stitches are too far apart. This time, it's fine.]
Should have time to destroy the shirt too, at any rate. No point in washing it.
[That's actually a lie, the spare got destroyed by Dracula along with most of Alucard's torso. Alucard doesn't say that though, just reaches for bandages so he can pretend he fixed some of this by himself.]
[ He can see the scar better now, and he kind of wishes he couldn’t. It’s a horrible thing, long and ugly and still only barely healed in places, raw and held together by burned flesh. He wants to make it better. He wants to make things right. He can’t. He doesn’t know how.
He sits next to Alucard, drawing his knees up to his chest. ]
I know- It must be hard to believe, that I mean you no harm.
[Alucard just focuses on applying the bandages. It's easy, wrapping them around himself when he's more awake and he has more daylight to work with. Simpler. He's relieved by the time the wound is covered entirely, and he can just pick his cloak back up and pull it around himself again. Oh, sure, it doesn't hide all of the scar, but most of it obscured and--
--Trevor's still there. Ugh.]
This is a prelude to a conversation neither one of us truly wants to have, Belmont.
[ Why did he think that would end well? He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, and when he gets up it’s with a rare difficulty that makes it all too clear what the year of captivity has done to him.
The chill is back in his tone, and he doesn’t look at Alucard. ]
Drink your breakfast and rest. I’ll wake you in the evening.
And I don't believe you for a moment, either. When this is done, I expect you to try and cleave my head from my neck. [And all too steadily, he simply says:] I'll likely welcome it, after my father's death.
[He says nothing else. He ignores how Trevor stands. He only reaches for the bottle and begins to down it's contents. Blood and then sleep. The normal schedule, and it has been nice, feeding more than once a day.
Alucard tuts at himself. He mustn't get used to it.]
[ He doesn’t respond, just leaves and tosses the shirt into the fire as he passes it.
Sypha is the one to wake Alucard that evening. And the next. And the next. The blood vial still gets filled, but it’s never Trevor who delivers it. It’s Sypha who delivers the news that a vampire named Carmilla has made the castle her home, and Sypha who deals with the aftermath of that news.
But after Carmilla fights her way to Dracula’s study and leaps through the mirror there to escape, Sypha is busy. She has work to do, more work than Trevor can imagine to figure out how to move the castle. There is just him, unwanted as he is. He’s not unscathed himself, but it’s just scrapes and bruises. Alucard was her target, and she went after him with a focus unmatched. ]
[Alucard realizes only come evening after the shirt has been destroyed that it was in fact his only one. He steals a new one from a passing clothes line on some awful little farm out near the wilderness, and he has no ounce of shame in doing so. It's clean. It's loose. It'll do, and he'll find a second spare if they survive all of this.
He drives them at night, saying almost nothing. The space from Trevor is a godsend, even if it's clear from Sypha's body language that the distance doesn't make her happy. Alucard would apologize if he was in a better frame of mind, but he isn't. He's biting back a lot of pain, and not even Sypha's presence makes it easier.
But then the name Carmilla is said and the vampire shifts entirely. Oh, he's still ice cold but all the sadness that surrounds him is replaced by red hot fury, something barely concealed and powering him through the healing process. He isn't shocked to hear that she's taken his father's home and is using it as a prize. But there is satisfaction in the chance to remove her from it violently that helps to gloss over the fact that it will be his first time home in over a decade.
It's not a pretty fight. In it, Alucard is every inch Dracula's son that he has ever been - an awful, feral thing that hisses and bites and claws, unafraid to throw Carmilla around as a man or a wolf and to nearly rip her throat out with his own fangs. Her blood is soaked through the castle's floor, running in neat little rivers that are ice cold and sticky.
He's taken injuries, but Alucard expected that. Carmilla has left marks on him before, and there was such a horrible satisfaction in watching her throat wound struggle to heal. She'll come back, because Alucard knows that she will and...
...and then adreline and fury leave him, and he's just Adrian again. Sad, miserable Adrian who was distracted from the real goal here of defeating Dracula and thus more liable to put their mission at risk.
He doesn't care. Not really. If they fail, then they fail, and Wallachia deserves it. The only reason he's trying at all is because his mother would be horrified to have this violence happen in her name.
It's hard now, being in the castle. Alucard's eyes are on the door, and he swears he expects her to just come in the room and sigh that he's collected a very impressive set of injuries.
[ He really is a monster, isn’t he? It was easier to forget, earlier. When he was man-shaped and just kind of a shitty person. Now, seeing all of that, seeing how he wasn’t trying to kill Carmilla but to destroy her-
-god forgive him. He needs Alucard, he can’t face Dracula alone. ]
I’ll fetch it. Stay still.
[ The tone’s as cold as it was when they last spoke. He knows Alucard doesn’t want warmth, and he’s not fool enough to try to offer it again.
Neither of them want him here, after all. Sypha fawns over the vampire, the vampire is rude at both of them. They want a Belmont, not a friend, and perhaps that’s for the best. ]
[Alucard would warn Trevor of the kitchen's modernity if he could remotely hope that the kitchen of his childhood was in tact at all. If there's no ice, then they at least have Sypha. But in Trevor's absence, there's a weight that settles over the vampire, almost crushing.
Carmilla was here. She was here for so long, and the house was a trophy to her. He just failed to kill her. It means she'll be back and back with horrible vengance, just as he is already. Survival isn't guaranteed and....
...Fuck. He may as well offer his throat willingly to the Belmont when this is all done.
Alucard's on the floor when Trevor returns, his awful messy, matted hair pooled around him, His hands curled up against the fabric of his cloak, as if he was trying to pull it closer when he fell. He's lost consciousness in all of this, and that's probably for the better anyway.]
[ It’s better this way. There’s no real way to minimise contact when dealing with injuries like this, and- it’s easier. Easier to do this when he knows he isn’t going to be tormented for trying. Easier to do this when Alucard’s face is still and he looks like a man at rest and not a monster.
He washes and wraps cuts, sewing where needed. Smears more of that dark paste over the worst of them, and a different medicine over the bruises. He takes the cloak to take advantage of the running water and clean it, wrapping his own cape around Alucard to replace it.
He’s half dressed when Alucard wakes, about done with patching himself up and setting about the last of his tasks - the little bottle of blood. The bottle is pressed against his palm as he slowly drains himself into it, not paying too much attention to the vampire. ]
[Alucard is quiet when he stirs, and he only stirs because the smell of fresh blood is far too strong for him to ignore. Most days, he'd be able to sleep through even that scent, but he's weakened. Blood will help him heal, and he needs to do that to see this all through.
He sits up slowly, shrugging off the cloak. It isn't his, he knows that by scent alone, and frankly he'd complain about smelling like Belmont if he was in a better state. As it is, he's powered by hunger, and the quiet knowledge that human blood will help him more than animal blood will.
Alucard has known that every poor hunt has resulted in blood from one of the two. He's never asked which one, mostly because he's never cared. He can't care right now because it'll start a fresh fight, and that's important to avoid more than ever.
His voice is raspy when he addresses the Belmont.]
[ It’s him, nearly every time. It’s a luxury that he has, since hunting tends to be left to him. He knows before Sypha does if they won’t have animal blood to hand. ]
There’ll be stores here, more than likely. But I doubt they’ll have come from willing sources.
[ Which is the big problem with the blood thing. He doubts Alucard cares, willingness to give doesn’t change the blood at all. But he does. And if he’s going to pretend Alucard isn’t a monster- this is important. ]
Guessing you’d rather have the bottle than my wrist. [ He says, finishing the task and handing the bottle over. ]
Won't be. Has to be fresh. Blood'll coagulate otherwise.
[He doesn't respond to the wrist comment. Alucard simply takes the bottle and drains it quickly, aware that the moment one drop touches his lips, there's a sense of relief. His all too pale face has a moment of color, and it endures as he drains the bottle.
But as he sits (awkward, hunched over, trying to find a comfortable spot), his feet brush against the floor. The castle vibrates in response, and when the vampire removes the bottle from his mouth, there's something close to a smile on his face.
He leans down, pressing a palm to the floor.]
Yes. [His voice is a whisper, aware that it's threatening to crack.] I've missed you too.
Can’t blame you. I’d rather have the bottle than me, too.
[ He leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling, and then jumps when the castle shakes. That’s too early. Sypha shouldn’t have made this much progress yet- ]
...-it’s. Talking to you.
[ You know what? Not the weirdest thing he’s ever experienced. ]
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[ Not the 'you're' alucard was referring to, but after last night he's still primed to expect insults aimed at the Belmonts. His tone is colder. Flatter. He doesn't sound angry or hurt, just tired. Maybe a little disappointed. ]
It will.
[ He was going to leave with that, but he can hear frozen grass crunching a little way away now, Sypha returning from her foraging. He sighs, looking over in that direction. ]
Keep her safe.
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[There's time for the other two to eat while Alucard shifts things around in the back of the wagon, and then it's his turn to drive for the night. The horses don't like him at all, but they move when he urges them two and they only need to rest a few times in the night. They'll have to take a longer break in the morning to allow for them to rest, but that's fine. Alucard feels safer being moving at night.
They're not on smooth roads. Alucard takes quite a few bumps, and under normal circumstances, it should never be a problem. But one awful bump sends Alucard almost flying off the bench, and then he hears the sound of tearing flesh. He doesn't make a noise, but he can tell where.
It's the stitching Trevor did. Of course.
He does nothing. Doesn't stop. Doesn't reach for clean bandages, does nothing. The horses keep moving, and Alucard only has them stop a little ways past dawn, because there is a fresh water stream ahead and the horses need that more than anyone else.
Once parked, Alucard rouses the other two. Well, Sypha, who wakes Trevor and tells him to go take care of breakfast while she takes care of the horses. It's one of the few times all three of them are awake, and Alucard just climbs into the back. The other two are gone. He can pull his shirt up to assess the damage and --]
Shit.
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-the blood bottle still gets filled, and that's what matters. Blood is blood, no matter what it comes from, and it's only a tiny thing. While Sypha busies herself with dealing with a loose shoe on one of the horses, Trevor enters the wagon with the bottle. ]
Before you sleep- [ He begins, and then actually looks at the stained white shirt. Then at the cut itself. ] -fuck.
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[Alucard has peeled his shirt off to try and get a better look at the wound. That means the whole scar is visible, but more than that, the thin trickle of blood coming down his chest is an obvious contrast against his all too pale skin.]
Stitching by night was a poor choice.
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[ Okay, that probably counts as saying something. To his credit, he at least doesn't say anything else. That's the part that he stitched. He's the one who did this to Alucard. He moves past Alucard, picking up the shirt. They have access to water and they're going to be stuck here until the horse is re-shod, so there's time to clean it. Sypha doesn't need to know about the blood. ]
I'll- leave you be.
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Can't reach, that much is clear to me. I'll assume you're better at this in daylight.
[Not bleeding is more important. Alucard knows his blood is dangerous, and he's around two humans. He isn't so awful as to insist that he put the other two at risk.]
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Bite down on this. It'll make it easier.
[ His tone is softer. Still flat. Still distant. Still with a far-off undercurrent of hurt, but softer and maybe a little warmer. He kneels by Alucard as he speaks, soaking a cloth with water. ]
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[Which is the politest no he's ever, ever given the Belmont. Alucard simply stays still, waiting. He knows the needle was returned to it's little alcohol vial, and so it's sterile. It's just working quickly.]
She's still distracted.
[Sypha doesn't need to know. She won't know if they do it right this time.]
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It is, in some ways, more difficult to do this by eye than by touch. The daylight helps, but light isn't good for his bad eye and focusing both eyes on something for an extended period of time is difficult. It's slower work, but the stitching is neater and he manages not to touch Alucard more than is absolutely necessary. ]
She'll be a while. One of the horses had a shoe come loose. Probably what did this.
[ And his tone softens further as he says that, melting into admiration just a little. She sets things on fire with her brain and she's a half-decent farrier. ]
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[That's all he can think of saying. Alucard wants Trevor to just pay attention and do the work, so he doesn't say anything else. It's better, being quiet. Being still so that the situation can get fixed. He's solved many a situation in just that way - hiding himself and holding his breath until the danger has passed.
He's so still. It's the touch but it's also knowing that it's effective for the work. The most Alucard does is look down and try to note if Trevor's stitches are too far apart. This time, it's fine.]
Should have time to destroy the shirt too, at any rate. No point in washing it.
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But then you- won't have a shirt.
[ It'll be very distracting. ]
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[That's actually a lie, the spare got destroyed by Dracula along with most of Alucard's torso. Alucard doesn't say that though, just reaches for bandages so he can pretend he fixed some of this by himself.]
It's fine, Belmont. And it's better stitching.
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[ He can see the scar better now, and he kind of wishes he couldn’t. It’s a horrible thing, long and ugly and still only barely healed in places, raw and held together by burned flesh. He wants to make it better. He wants to make things right. He can’t. He doesn’t know how.
He sits next to Alucard, drawing his knees up to his chest. ]
I know- It must be hard to believe, that I mean you no harm.
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--Trevor's still there. Ugh.]
This is a prelude to a conversation neither one of us truly wants to have, Belmont.
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[ Why did he think that would end well? He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, and when he gets up it’s with a rare difficulty that makes it all too clear what the year of captivity has done to him.
The chill is back in his tone, and he doesn’t look at Alucard. ]
Drink your breakfast and rest. I’ll wake you in the evening.
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[He says nothing else. He ignores how Trevor stands. He only reaches for the bottle and begins to down it's contents. Blood and then sleep. The normal schedule, and it has been nice, feeding more than once a day.
Alucard tuts at himself. He mustn't get used to it.]
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Sypha is the one to wake Alucard that evening. And the next. And the next. The blood vial still gets filled, but it’s never Trevor who delivers it. It’s Sypha who delivers the news that a vampire named Carmilla has made the castle her home, and Sypha who deals with the aftermath of that news.
But after Carmilla fights her way to Dracula’s study and leaps through the mirror there to escape, Sypha is busy. She has work to do, more work than Trevor can imagine to figure out how to move the castle. There is just him, unwanted as he is. He’s not unscathed himself, but it’s just scrapes and bruises. Alucard was her target, and she went after him with a focus unmatched. ]
Is this broken, or just swollen as shit?
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He drives them at night, saying almost nothing. The space from Trevor is a godsend, even if it's clear from Sypha's body language that the distance doesn't make her happy. Alucard would apologize if he was in a better frame of mind, but he isn't. He's biting back a lot of pain, and not even Sypha's presence makes it easier.
But then the name Carmilla is said and the vampire shifts entirely. Oh, he's still ice cold but all the sadness that surrounds him is replaced by red hot fury, something barely concealed and powering him through the healing process. He isn't shocked to hear that she's taken his father's home and is using it as a prize. But there is satisfaction in the chance to remove her from it violently that helps to gloss over the fact that it will be his first time home in over a decade.
It's not a pretty fight. In it, Alucard is every inch Dracula's son that he has ever been - an awful, feral thing that hisses and bites and claws, unafraid to throw Carmilla around as a man or a wolf and to nearly rip her throat out with his own fangs. Her blood is soaked through the castle's floor, running in neat little rivers that are ice cold and sticky.
He's taken injuries, but Alucard expected that. Carmilla has left marks on him before, and there was such a horrible satisfaction in watching her throat wound struggle to heal. She'll come back, because Alucard knows that she will and...
...and then adreline and fury leave him, and he's just Adrian again. Sad, miserable Adrian who was distracted from the real goal here of defeating Dracula and thus more liable to put their mission at risk.
He doesn't care. Not really. If they fail, then they fail, and Wallachia deserves it. The only reason he's trying at all is because his mother would be horrified to have this violence happen in her name.
It's hard now, being in the castle. Alucard's eyes are on the door, and he swears he expects her to just come in the room and sigh that he's collected a very impressive set of injuries.
But no. It's just him. Just Trevor. No one else.]
Swollen. There should be ice in the kitchen.
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-god forgive him. He needs Alucard, he can’t face Dracula alone. ]
I’ll fetch it. Stay still.
[ The tone’s as cold as it was when they last spoke. He knows Alucard doesn’t want warmth, and he’s not fool enough to try to offer it again.
Neither of them want him here, after all. Sypha fawns over the vampire, the vampire is rude at both of them. They want a Belmont, not a friend, and perhaps that’s for the best. ]
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[Alucard would warn Trevor of the kitchen's modernity if he could remotely hope that the kitchen of his childhood was in tact at all. If there's no ice, then they at least have Sypha. But in Trevor's absence, there's a weight that settles over the vampire, almost crushing.
Carmilla was here. She was here for so long, and the house was a trophy to her. He just failed to kill her. It means she'll be back and back with horrible vengance, just as he is already. Survival isn't guaranteed and....
...Fuck. He may as well offer his throat willingly to the Belmont when this is all done.
Alucard's on the floor when Trevor returns, his awful messy, matted hair pooled around him, His hands curled up against the fabric of his cloak, as if he was trying to pull it closer when he fell. He's lost consciousness in all of this, and that's probably for the better anyway.]
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He washes and wraps cuts, sewing where needed. Smears more of that dark paste over the worst of them, and a different medicine over the bruises. He takes the cloak to take advantage of the running water and clean it, wrapping his own cape around Alucard to replace it.
He’s half dressed when Alucard wakes, about done with patching himself up and setting about the last of his tasks - the little bottle of blood. The bottle is pressed against his palm as he slowly drains himself into it, not paying too much attention to the vampire. ]
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He sits up slowly, shrugging off the cloak. It isn't his, he knows that by scent alone, and frankly he'd complain about smelling like Belmont if he was in a better state. As it is, he's powered by hunger, and the quiet knowledge that human blood will help him more than animal blood will.
Alucard has known that every poor hunt has resulted in blood from one of the two. He's never asked which one, mostly because he's never cared. He can't care right now because it'll start a fresh fight, and that's important to avoid more than ever.
His voice is raspy when he addresses the Belmont.]
Thank you.
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There’ll be stores here, more than likely. But I doubt they’ll have come from willing sources.
[ Which is the big problem with the blood thing. He doubts Alucard cares, willingness to give doesn’t change the blood at all. But he does. And if he’s going to pretend Alucard isn’t a monster- this is important. ]
Guessing you’d rather have the bottle than my wrist. [ He says, finishing the task and handing the bottle over. ]
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[He doesn't respond to the wrist comment. Alucard simply takes the bottle and drains it quickly, aware that the moment one drop touches his lips, there's a sense of relief. His all too pale face has a moment of color, and it endures as he drains the bottle.
But as he sits (awkward, hunched over, trying to find a comfortable spot), his feet brush against the floor. The castle vibrates in response, and when the vampire removes the bottle from his mouth, there's something close to a smile on his face.
He leans down, pressing a palm to the floor.]
Yes. [His voice is a whisper, aware that it's threatening to crack.] I've missed you too.
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Can’t blame you. I’d rather have the bottle than me, too.
[ He leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling, and then jumps when the castle shakes. That’s too early. Sypha shouldn’t have made this much progress yet- ]
...-it’s. Talking to you.
[ You know what? Not the weirdest thing he’s ever experienced. ]
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time for some EXTREME MOOD WHIPLASH
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