[ Red. Red, red, and more red. It cascades down Alhaitham, the precious liquid that gives humans life. The sight of it causes Kaveh's heart to swoop wildly, and he feels the stirring of panic in his stomach. Hastily, he presses his mouth against the wound as if to seal it with his lips, pulling Alhaitham even closer as he drops the dagger and steadies the man with an embrace.
The metallic taste of iron fills his mouth. The blood burns his throat as he swallows the fluid, searing in its heat. It is nauseating—the taste, the smell, the gasps of pain and the rapid fluttering of Alhaitham's pulse. He wants to throw up. He wants to cry. He's crying still, tears mixing with the blood to transform into the taste of pain and grief.
But he doesn't stop. He can't allow himself to stop, because it would prolong Alhaitham's suffering. So he drinks and drinks, draining Alhaitham of his life. ]
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The metallic taste of iron fills his mouth. The blood burns his throat as he swallows the fluid, searing in its heat. It is nauseating—the taste, the smell, the gasps of pain and the rapid fluttering of Alhaitham's pulse. He wants to throw up. He wants to cry. He's crying still, tears mixing with the blood to transform into the taste of pain and grief.
But he doesn't stop. He can't allow himself to stop, because it would prolong Alhaitham's suffering. So he drinks and drinks, draining Alhaitham of his life. ]