[And she's already entirely fine besides the massive amounts of blood on her clothes. But she's distracted by the scent of blood and cinnamon, edged with something gritty and unnatural that doesn't quite fit with anything she's sensed before.
She hates how much she wants to taste it.
But there are more urgent bits of blood to taste at the moment.]
no subject
She hates how much she wants to taste it.
But there are more urgent bits of blood to taste at the moment.]
Give me your sword. I want to try something.