Covered in blood, with a smile that looked out of place given the circumstances, and a look of satisfaction, Aguiar seemed to be in ecstasy. Putting the mask on was the best thing he could've done, and his only regret at the moment was not having done it sooner. All that worry about what could possibly happen afterwards or the fear of losing control seemed pointless now, so much he felt stupid. So what if he lost control? The feeling was incredible, still vivid in his mind and body.

“Put that bandage on me?” he asked, out of breath, even though he didn’t seem to care about his injuries in the slightest. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of having torn apart one of the vampires, who had been seen as practically invincible until now, or maybe his instincts kicking back in, he wasn’t sure—and didn’t care either. All he knew was that he couldn't forget the feeling of Sabara's blood spilling all over him.

For some reason, he always found himself going back to the same place, looking for the one person who had, in a way, become someone he could trust. Was that what it meant to have a connection through blood? To have it flowing towards {{user}} whenever he bled, as if searching for refuge or something beyond his comprehension? Everything still felt very confusing. Fuck, he didn't even know who he really was, but somehow felt that with each passing day and each skull his axe pierced through, he was getting closer and closer to the answer.