just a bit of Abel introspective. enjoy. -fireun
He hated the flavor of blood, the way it managed to cling to every taste bud and take its damn time clearing out of his throat. He hated the way the smell of it made a shiver of anticipation curl its insidious way down his spine. It congealed in a sticky mess, tangling long hair, stiffening parts as it dried.
He hated how much of an integral part of his daily activities the substance was.
He despised the fact he wanted to lick a cooling bit of it off of his upper lip, almost convinced himself it was merely in an effort to get it gone, that he was not at all interested in the tantalizing closeness of it.
The smell of violence tried its best to smother him, assaulting his nasal passages with the ambiance of a butcher shop. A dirty one. In warm weather.
What would they think, the people who saw his beaming, bumbling countenance only in passing, were they to see him splattered with viscera, his clothing a madman's rendition of a study of red and black?
An unholy juxtaposition, his smiling face and the slaughter before him.
The tip of his tongue dabbed at his upper lip, and he winced as his brain caught up with instinct. The red faded from his eyes and he frantically looked about for a clean surface to wipe his long fingered, gore splattered hands on.
"Clear."
At the sound of that faultlessly patient voice, he clasped his hands behind his back, a reflexive bid to hide evidence of his very intimate involvement with the bodies disassembled around him.
"Damage report, Father Nightroad."
"Ah…I'm fine, Tres."
The cyborg regarded him for a moment, and then holstered his guns with a short nod. "Affirmative." Tres appeared to relax, as much as he ever did, and started towards the door.
"Ah…Tres…"
"Yes?"
"…I'll…follow in a moment."
He wished Tres' eyes weren't always so impassively…knowing. Those eyes bore into him for a long minute, analyzing, categorizing, and then Tres turned and left.
He brushed flaking blood off the front of his robes, tried not to shudder as he tried to scrape it off the lenses of his glasses before replacing them on the bridge of his nose.
He wanted a bath. Maybe he would be able to ignore the way washing his hair would turn the water pink…