A/N: This is based on an idea I got from a Harry Potter fic. Basically my favorite piece of Harry Potter fanficiton to ever exist: s/2967521/1/Chromaticity
Every chapter is dedicated to one character and the color I identified them with. Some characters were really obvious to me from the start. Others are more difficult and complex. I hope to include every major character in this fic but I can't guarantee anything.
Black
"Think of what starlight
And lamplight would lack
Diamonds and fireflies
If they couldn't lean against Black. . . ." - Mary O'Neill
He never liked the day. It's why his sad excuse for a house is never lit. He moves best in the dark. Silent and neat. He was trained to do this and it suits him well and calms him down. He likes to keep to himself, a loner others would say.
Sometimes he feels like the darkness has swallowed him all those years ago when his life went up in flames and left nothing but ashes and burned skin. He missed his mother the most. The gentleness and warmth she had brought into his life. Eaten up by vicious flames and deviousness.
When she had sung to him it used to feel like rays of sun swept over him, the clarity of her voice piercing the air. He had looked up to her, envied her even. Because she was not black but light. The opposite of everything he was, full of life and love. He used to soak up every single word she said, he had listened, intent and hungry for words and noise and music. Now he preferred silence.
He would never have admitted that forming a pack felt like rebuilding his family. He picked them neatly. Considering their flaws and studying them. Flaws made them human and he wanted to make them something more.
'Why?' Erica would ask. 'Why me?'
And he shrugged it off as if he had picked her randomly. Though he knew that her imperfection made her wiser and stronger than anyone else. She had lived and experienced and been pitied and laughed at. There was sadness and anger and fury. She would make the perfect soldier.
Black swallowed everything. Flaws got lost in darkness, no one would ever even remember Erica as the girl with the seizures or Isaac as the boy who got beaten up and ridiculed by his father. Black made it irrelevant. Like stains on a black shirt, invisible.
But they also brought words and noise and music back into his life. And colors. Erica would leave the door open when she entered the run down house, accidentally she claimed. Sometimes it made him furious, some days he enjoyed it. Light. And then he thinks that he misses the colors and the light because it does get too dark sometimes and admittedly, lonely too.