Summary: A Scout's reflections about life, death and blood.
Comments & Reviews: positive comments welcomed.
Disclaimer: This beautiful enigma's still not mine, more's the pity and belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer & Touchstone Pictures.
A/N: This tiny one-shot was an idea which came from a word prompt challenge for "blood" and the scene where Tristan's captured licking blood from his knuckles.
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Barbarian
They may not say it to my face, but I know what they're thinking. They see me as an animal. A savage beast. A barbarian ...
I'm feared and hated by my enemies, Woad, Saxon and Roman alike and my reputation as a cold, ruthless death-dealer precedes me. Unlike the other Sarmatian knights, I've developed a taste for killing and I do not shy away from it. To me, death's an art form which I've an aptitude for. I appreciate its wild, primitive beauty. Its mysticism.
I freely admit that I've embraced my bloodlust. That I thrive in battle. I live for my opponent's challenge and come alive with every life that I take. Most of my kills are swift, clinical even graceful, but some - the bloodier ones - are often the most satisfying. The sweet, metallic tang of blood which fills the air enslaves and beguiles me.
There's a feral beauty to the crimson spray which freely spatters my face and hands. It's power. It's life. It's what inspires me to stay alive. You could almost claim it to be a vital, ingrained instinct to survive. It's also why I loathe to see any precious, essential drop go to waste ... And that's why I'm perceived as an animal. A beast ... and a savage barbarian ...
Finis