[It has been a very stressful series of events, starting in Ikorr and devolving from there. The first threat of realization had been with Astarion and a nasty returned memory, and the more Alucard had tried to shove the thought aside, the more cracks he began to see in the sky. Retreating to the Horizon felt correct. It was. Things could be shoved aside.
Until they couldn't, thanks to Geralt and the man hedging bets against Alucard making himself into soup. (Again.) Then Viktor.
There's only the question of when it'll break entirely. Everything else is simply waiting out the end of the world.
He's on the porch. What else is there to do but watch cracks appear in the sky while rocking back and forth, a warm mug of the best chicken broth he's ever made in hand.
The dhampir glances at Thancred, the dry observation that leaves his lips an attempt to confirm what his friend does and doesn't know about the present circumstances:]
no subject
Until they couldn't, thanks to Geralt and the man hedging bets against Alucard making himself into soup. (Again.) Then Viktor.
There's only the question of when it'll break entirely. Everything else is simply waiting out the end of the world.
He's on the porch. What else is there to do but watch cracks appear in the sky while rocking back and forth, a warm mug of the best chicken broth he's ever made in hand.
The dhampir glances at Thancred, the dry observation that leaves his lips an attempt to confirm what his friend does and doesn't know about the present circumstances:]
You look like shit.