@bloodevour: ❝ blood has such a metallic taste. ❞
THE FIVE SENSES / accepting
𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍, 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 senses and along each bone in his body. There is blood on the cobblestones - there is blood everywhere, really, but that is a side effect of the job, a compromise one has to make when they work with bullets and grenades. And yet he is unable to tell whose it is. His? Hers? Adonis nose wrinkles at the odor, and he turns his head away from the stench, but he cannot mistake the tang in the air, on his own tongue, even as a gloved hand hurriedly attempts to brush it away from the corner of his mouth... if he gets rid of it, perhaps she will not see.
The gazelle did not bleed before the lioness if it wanted to keep running.
His gaze fixes on her then, one eye the shade of tumultuous storm clouds and the other that ephemeral, radianite blue. Even in his bloodied state he is the picture of pride and poise, handsome features set in a grimly bemused smirk and his shoulders squared in a way that still begets confidence. A clear, firm voice comes next - accent light on the edges but it’s honey tone laced with danger in the familiarity.
“ 𝐈 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭. 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝.”
