Colours of life

Colour is life.

Life is colour.

I am lifeblind.

I saved Emma again last night. It wasn’t Emma, but it needed to have been. She was being sacrificed by the Circle of Thorns, so I broke up the party. It was the wrong colour.

Circle of Thorns are green. Green is bad. I can see the purple fog of fear, the yellow smell of inspiration as they are about to attack, in time to parry, block and dodge. From a distance I work best, the blue ice and forces knocking them, throwing them, splitting the colours to primary.

Primary colours are better.

I remember things that were not colours, once. I remember a world where I could see things as shapes. There were sounds, too. There are sounds now, really, but the sounds are colours too. Tastes are colours – I can never eat steak again knowing it’s that shade of green, and anything that green is evil. Green, in general, means evil. So I follow the green things, and I remove them from my life, so other colours can bloom.

Now I pity those who cannot truely see the colours of the city. They describe it as grey, drab and dull. They cannot see it as I do. I know no concept of grey.