Blood and Gold

Tony has always lived in a world of blood and gold. He only noticed it after Yinsen. When the colours became clear, no longer obstructed by alcohol and a desperate desire to never show the media something worth breaking. Something capable of being torn apart.

When the blood was on his hands and coating the shrapnel in his heart, spilled at his feet in a river that would forever stain his skin.

With the taste of a gritty gold in his mouth, painful, dry, cutting into throat, the grains of it beneath his feet and the glare of it in his eyes.

He had always known that all his money came to him bathed in blood, but he never had to see it. Not until he had his weapons in his heart and a dead man's words seared beneath his eyelids.

So on the armour, under layers of scarlet red and blinding yellow, lay a colour dark and rich and dull and shining. He made his armour in blood and gold and hid it all with a bright smile and a cocky attitude and a few layers of brilliant paint.