A/n: As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on these!
Blue, not Red
His eyes took her in and traced the faint blue lines composing the map of her life. Lines he'd burst open in so many people; the salty liquid pouring out, accumulating in heavy puddles.
Sometimes he thought he'd drown in them.
It was the young woman now sitting opposite him, silently ladling soup into a bowl, who'd then hold him up. Her presence as nurturing as that bowl of soup would be to a hungry child.
Forever he'd keep the blue of her blood from turning red. He'd protect it till the last drop of his life escaped his body.