The eyes. Vanessa focused on the open, bloody eyes as time seemed to freeze.
The young boy in front of her, his face mask broken, its glass digging into his face, had deeply bloody eyes, as if a vein had popped, colouring them red. Hidden deep within them, frozen as his last expression, was a deep resolve. It was not fear, it was not reluctance, but a determination to complete his mission.
For that one fraction of a second where she looked at him, time seemed to freeze, her mind racing, yet at the same time her thoughts frozen. Then the dizziness returned, followed by the sounds of fighting, and the smell.
It bloomed in the air around her. Copper and salt. A metallic whisper that curled into her nose and settled in her throat like smoke. It was sharp, thick, feral. Not quite a stench, not quite a scent - more like memory unearthed. She had a flashback once to a time in training when she stuck her bleeding finger in her mouth. Blood. That taste, that smell, it was blood.
