He wears blood, artlessly, thoughtlessly. Seol has never come so close to learning Seo for the warrior that he is - not the thoughtful guardian, not the reliable protector or the understanding friend, the man who took lives and tore through enemy lands. The expression that Kangs carried war in their blood has never been made clearer.
She isn't certain if it should fascinate her as it did, if it should have horrified her instead. The scent of blood clings to him as he wipes the blade thoughtlessly on his robe, taking measured steps towards the last man left living.
The younger man has been afraid since the beginning, but the initial fright pales to smittens in front of what clouded his eyes now. It is terror, Seol thinks, it is utter terror that the man shivers with, trying in vain to pull himself away from Seo's attention.
