I reach into my slacks pocket, grabbing my pocket-knife before flicking the blade open and pricking the end of my finger. When that first drop of crimson appears, I press my pointer finger to the blank line, where I quickly sign my name and the date before handing my knife to Liam. He quickly does the same, logging his attendance as well. There are a lot of traditions and practices we still participate in that are weird as fuck. This one, for instance. The scripted writing across the top of the page, a clear direction as to why we do what we do. Witches bleed black.
