@crtaxon The corpses didn’t look any prettier in the daylight.

Archer closed his eye, fighting to keep his feelings from showing on his face. The Sinnlenst had needed to die – that much was obvious – and he could hardly blame Sabbat for having been more than usually violent given the circumstances. /And they died relatively quickly, at least. I suppose that counts for something./

“-th’fuck’re you pullin’ faces for? Y’don’t mean t’tell me you’re feelin’ sorry for the bastards?”

#ArgentumInAqua

@crtaxon

From "Changeling":

And, worse, Marie interpreted “staying out of my business” as “call before she came over to hang out”, and -- I couldn’t blame her. Girl really, sincerely, could not cook.

#ThirdChances
@kitrona

@crtaxon

#microPrompt: BLAME

When The Enemy Comes

``I'd rather...'' Connor began. ``You don't trust me, that's fine. Come.''

``Do you blame me? After Desolation Valley?''

``We never knew...'' Connor hesitated, glanced at Giuliano's inquisitive face. ``We never knew how many were lost inside the mine at the valley. Was there anyone you were close to.''

Their steps were synchronised now. Step. Step. Step.

``No.'' Giuliano said. ``No-one.''

#amWriting #scifi

@crtaxon
#MicroPrompt - BLAME

Caz cleared his throat and Eerie's spine stiffened. He dropped his gaze, but not before spying that wide, sensuous mouth ticking up in amusement.
No one could blame him for gawking. The man had a body sculpted from lean, golden muscle and chestnut brown hair just messy enough to have already been grabbed at by hungry fingers. The sleeve of tattoos winding up his right arm was simply the cream cheese frosting on a decadent red velvet sponge cake.