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— Jeaniene Frost"I told you once before,” I said, the words husky from remembrance. “Everyone holds their sins close to their skin.” Fangs gleamed for an instant before Vlad bit into his wrist, pooling up two deep crimson holes. “Then come,” he said, holding it out. “And taste mine."
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I had the brief notion that his heart, pressed flat as a flower, crimson and thin as tissue paper, lay in this file. It was a very thin one.
— Angela Carter
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Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.
— Isaiah
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