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CHAPTER 14
OF L A C E A N D G L A S S
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Caius does not particularly enjoy the sensation of dried blood, nor does he find any liking towards the deafening sensation in his ears. Of course, hopefully, no normal individual would find enjoyment in that either. His annoyance of blood did not stem from its color, nor did it come from lack of acquaintance with it. He has spilled plenty of blood before during missions, though the majority of the time not his own – which he was quite proud of.
For what it is, his hatred for it comes from the fact that it leaves devastating stains on pure white cotton – which he is entirely clothed in. Caius can never tell why and when he had obtained his strange taste in all white clothing. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that it made his hair and eyes stand out less. Or that white simply goes with more white, thus making early mornings a tad easier. However early mornings containing the prospect of washing dried ear blood thoroughly diminishes the entire aspect easiness.
Though he ought to figure out how to remove burdensome stains, it strikes him that that is the least of his concerns, simply because at the moment, all he can see is white.
His ears strained to make out the sound, a thousand sharp pins stabbing into the sides of his head as they do so. At another careful and excruciating listen, he picks up another sound, one of ice clinking together. The pain ebbs in his mind, causing Caius to scream, though no sounds can escape from his pale lips.
