ofangxls

[ofangxls]

© CHIMTAE_D

[ofangxls]

© CHIMTAE_D

[ofangxls]

The taste of blood was always staggering.

They were used to the coppery tones, the thickness, but when it was their own it soured. It was like ash.

But what was even more staggering was that someone had actually hit Saeran.

How long had it been since they had eaten that they would be weak enough to be hit, much less for it to cause blood to fill their mouth. Was it their nose? Their lip? Both?

Saeran couldn’t tell, and they wouldn’t have time to.

An arm wiped at their face, trying to clean the mess but just served to ruin the white sweat shirt.

This cake with not having anywhere to stay. Saeran wouldn’t have any reprieve from the social world and when their emotions became too much they wouldn’t have a buffer.

Tonight they’d been particularly frustrated, just tired and wanting their own space. Wanting a moment.

A couple of drinks in their undersaturated system was enough to let that aggravating, emotional Saeran have their time.

So to say that they didn’t get *why* some glorified mountain of a man was dragging them out by their collar and tossing them out, then hitting them when they’d tossed a poorly aimed punch that didn't land, it was accurate. Later when their brain settled they would get it, but right then all that mattered was that they took this guy out. Maybe they’d get a meal out of it.

Saeran lunged, a hand outstretched meaning to weaponize the carefully maintained black nails that grew so quickly. But this guy was fast and Saeran felt like they had missed something when their arm was suddenly pinned behind their back and the weakness in their knees being used against them, planting them down on them.

Fucking mutants.

@ofreapers

[ofangxls]