The crayon changes.
Blue, yellow, red, green, purple, orange…
Back to green.
It's his favorite, after all. Green is the color of grass, of leaves, of the pretty girl's eyes. Green is the color of life.
The sickly green seawater rises to the mouth of the cave where he torments other children. He creates(like a god, he thinks) a noose made of flowers, the green stems choking the small rabbit that others found precious.
After he leaves, after he learns the truth, he finds a wonderful spell, one that delivers instantaneous death with a flash of green light. He understands.
Green is the color of death.
When the time came for him to choose his future adversary, he thought little of similarities or bloodlines. No, he remembered piercing green eyes and stories of a child who inherited them. There never was a choice, not in this.
The moment he laid eyes on the boy, the child with eyes of death, he couldn't help but laugh. Those eyes would match the curse even more so than his mother's.
When the curse backfired, and he was in the most absolute of agonies, he couldn't manage a single coherent thought. There was simply a feeling of outrage, perhaps because green is death for everyone else, but it's supposed to be life for him.