[With eyes closed, Alucard tilts his head back, face pointed towards the ceiling. His cheeks are flushed, he's fighting the urge to turn into bats and flee. Not that his head could manage being bats at the moment, the world is still swimming around him. Everything is too sharp, too focused.
But the edges slowly soften. He breathes out only once it feels that his head isn't going to split in two, and at that, Alucard finally stops digging his nails into his palms. The wounds heal instantly, but the blood remains.]
I can genuinely say I've had worse. [His voice is still uneven, as is the exhale that follows it.]
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But the edges slowly soften. He breathes out only once it feels that his head isn't going to split in two, and at that, Alucard finally stops digging his nails into his palms. The wounds heal instantly, but the blood remains.]
I can genuinely say I've had worse. [His voice is still uneven, as is the exhale that follows it.]
We may need something stronger than wine.