Blood was not unfamiliar to Tiresias. The sticky substance had coated aspects of his life. Wounds. Scars. Countless loved and lost. Sight was something that escaped him, but every vision of the ichor made him nauseated. He could recognize the coppery smell of the damned liquid. It seems like it always bore the same source. The source that brought him agonizing migraines.

"Charon." Tiresias's flat tone was more than charitable, considering the amount he smelled on him now. Tiresias had seen Charon before in his visions. He knew of his broadness. His skill with weaponry. His ability to fell his foes with one blow. However, there was something that Tiresias could never forgive about Charon. His scent. It was intoxicatingly forbidden to him. Blood, metal, and herbs. All of which together created an alluring combination, which he struggled to resist at every turn.

"What in the world did you do. You smell of the battlefield. Yet here you stand. In front of me, yet again." Tiresias paused, letting the rhythm of his nagging settle in Charon's thick skull. "Yet again, seeking forgiveness of me as if you are a sinner repenting to his lord."

This was invisible to Tiresias at present, but would come later in a vision. Laughter. It was silent, but Charon bowed his head in an effort to hide his joy. The thick neck muscles strained as ripples of laughter disturbed the pool of his countenance.

"Aye, Tiresias. I secured coin for our next trip. I always appreciate what a doting, lovable wife you are whenever I return from my outings. Any steed would be lucky to have you." The sarcasm in Charon's tone was playful, yet condescending. Tiresias heard a loud thud. He assumed it was the aforementioned coin but wanted to ensure his predication. With a swift kick, the subtle clinking of metal confirmed it.

Tiresias disregarded the wife comment. He knew of Charon's... less than savory ways of acquisition.

"Lucky is an understatement. If I am a doting wife, than you are the husband my mother begs me to divorce. Heaven forbid I am ever granted a moment of peace with you in my presence." That comment earned a hefty snort from Charon, who quickly retorted.

"Peace? You speak of peace, yet travel with me." Charon's barb was rooted in truth, and Tiresias knew it; however, he also knew of the hurt Charon wore. It was so painfully obvious, especially in situations like this.

"All deserve peace. You are not an exception. Regardless of what you might believe to be true."

The long silence that followed spoke for itself. Charon knew the ways of blood. Ways to rip and tear someone until they spilled their deepest desires out to you; but, there were ways Charon did not know. Tiresias was determined to show those to him.