(A/N: The previous chapter has been fixed. Thank you for your patience and my apologies if you were affected. Also, as a warning, this chapter contains gross blood descriptions but the next chapters will be better.)
"You sound… excited…" I say.
"How could I not be, to pay tribute to the great Primordial Sovereign?"
"What now?"
"Blood offerings — we show our support for the Primordial Sovereign and pay preemptively showing our devotion… or at least that's what I was told. Then, the Primordial Sovereign, recognizing our devotion, brings us blessings and leaves our city and families unharmed."
I just look at him and squint with a raised eyebrow.
I bless people? Since when? Please, tell me more.
This is new to me… well, apart from that one time when I first found Struan, but that was a global event; while all technically done only for him, the whole world benefited.
Though, I can't say that the offering idea is unappealing…
"Looks like you weren't warned," Steve says with a grin. He is practically jumping up and down…
… Yeah, he's definitely a fanatic. There is no doubt.
As he finishes saying that, it's his turn in the line. He almost sprints up to the table.
A huge bowl, shaped like a wok, sits smack dab in the middle of the table. It looks like it is made of brushed bronze, and dark streaks trail down the side of the container. The streaks thicken towards the bottom into coagulated drops, and similar dark drops are splattered on the table and floor.
Uhhhhh… Is this what I think it is…
Oh, gross! …I don't want your tribute! Definitely not that bowl!
Steve is handed a straight razor by its handle from a tray by one of the staff. Without hesitation, he slices it across his left wrist and holds his arm above the bowl, spilling his blood inside.
He looks euphoric as the other staff person bandages his wrist. At this point, I am strongly questioning my decisions, but I can't help but admit that I'm intrigued… and finding this… display… somewhat enjoyable — but definitely not the bowl, that's still nasty.
It's my turn now, but the man handing out razors motions for me to wait.
A clatter echoes along the ragged stone wall as someone pushes a metal cart up a long ramp. The masked woman stops next to our table and wordlessly starts unloading trays with straight razors onto a shelf behind the table. She then takes the bloody trays with the used razors, places them onto the cart, and clatters away, back to where she came from. The scent of rubbing alcohol drifts behind her.
I'm glad they're trying to be hygienic and are not using my name to profit… but…
… I have one question.
WHY!?
I know Steve explained it… but still… WHY??
How would they even think of this? Why would they think I want this??
… Except… I actually do like the bleeding act itself… and given my somewhat violent nature, I guess it's not that far-fetched of an idea. I guess they weren't far off? Still, improvements can absolutely be made — need to be made.
The man staffing the table motions for me to come closer. I… don't really want to, but I do walk forward.
I peer into the bowl. The woman working next to him bumps the table as she places a clean tray of razors on it. The blood inside the bowl sloshes around underneath a jellylike layer on top…
Urrf… so many different people's blood mixed together… Ugh… Delightful. I'm not sure what possessed them to do this.
I quickly accept a clean razor from the man and slice my left wrist. I watch as the blood beads along the wound then slides down my wrist and falls into the bowl, not even causing a ripple through the jelly layer…
Nononono this is not the way to go. So gross!
With my wrist now bandaged, I notice that Steve is waiting for me, looking as excited as ever.
"How was it!? Do you feel the blessing coursing through your veins?"
"No, but I do feel my wrist stinging and throbbing uncomfortably," I say.
"Uhuh…" He looks confused, like he doesn't understand the words coming out of my mouth.
"So… what happens next?" I ask, nonplussed.
"Wait! We don't have time for that! Hurry!" Steve points off somewhere, and I scan the crowd in the direction of his finger.
"Do you want me to wait or to hurry?" I say sarcastically.
I scan the crowd as Steve points off somewhere. Without waiting for my response, he grabs my hand and pulls me along in his excitement, forgetting that we are total strangers… Or perhaps, he feels a certain kinship with me since we came here together for supposedly the same reason.
Ew, ew, ew… What's with people wanting to touch each other so soon and so often.
He's like a dog who feels like we are friends almost instantly.