Blood And Its Flavors

The town was lit up tonight, people moved freely around and no one glanced at him as he made his way through the crowd covered heavily in his black cloak.

“Going for a cent.” A merchant yelled continuously hitting iron, the noise ringing out in the busy street.

The man kept his head bowed, sifting through the bodies of people.

“Brown bread over here.” Another merchant cried and pulled the man by his coat. His face shriveled in disgust before he roughly pulled away shoving the baker off, he hurriedly continued on his way.

Finally, he came across a dark alley where he pulled off the cloak from his head, the dim lamp on the other street reflected on it showing off the full, brown-colored hair on his head.

Minutes later, he was joined by another man.

“You are late,” The first man said, digging his hand into his cloak.

“What is so urgent?” The other man asked impatiently.

“My time is of utmost importance to me, Tobias.” The man in black said.

“Will you stop talking about the fucking time