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Chapter 820: Baptside by fire(3)
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... , sprayed there in uneven streaks with the blade being his brush and him the mad painted. At first, Blake tried to wipe it away with the back of his hand, but all he managed was to smear it further, turning streaks into blotches, blotches into a mask. So he stopped. He let it stay there, drying into his beard, dripping down his jaw.
He sure it was a nice spectacle.
Someone with a poet’s soul might have given meaning to it, might have seen in those stains some metaphor for glory, ...
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