i got this idea randomly last night &was unsure if its ever been done? idek, its weird, but read if youre trash who likes drabbles and my children king&diane who just need to be happy dammit
also u guys that leave reviews...ur the real mvps :,)
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red
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-is her cheeks, after a long day under the sun. They hold the tint for hours, and he can't help but marvel. They rise with her smile and fall to the beat of her breaths.
It's the anger in the atmosphere when she's upset – the flurry of fury before the ground quakes – an aftershock of her rage. It's the fading color of her emotions when he offers her a pillow to cry on – because he's the one who knows that she cries after she yells.
She's not a monster – and he's promised himself he'll always be the one to tell her that after she dries her eyes.
It's the rose petals in the spring, crumbling like soft cinders to the forest floor. It's the recollection of lost memories that ghost upon the surface of her mind, like ivy on its way to the sun – it'll never reach its destination, but it will keep crawling nonetheless.
It's the fragrance of her skin after cooking, like warm cinnamon and apple cider.
And - it's the shade of his face when she calls him Har-le-quin.
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orange
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…it is her, she herself is synonymous with the familiar vibrant color, he can't help but let his thoughts drift to her whenever the color makes a sudden appearance.
It's the soft glow of the fire on her skin after everyone else is fast asleep, and it's the secret smiles they share only with each other.
It's the echo of her voice in his dreams when he wakes up with a smile, it's the smell of vanilla in the afternoon when the candles are lit for no particular reason.
It's the fading notion at the end of the night that tomorrow would be better, that there was always a new day approaching around the bend, another day she would no doubt brighten like a consistent lantern in the night.
It's the feel of her hair against his hand when she gets a twig trapped in it, and it's the sound of her laugh when he retrieves it, flustered that he had the privilege of being so close to her.
It's her – and every time he sees the color, he finds himself soothingly content.
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yellow
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-is the taste of her cooking, and it's the polite smile that usually follows.
"It's nice," he tells her, because the color of her smile paints him a pleasant day.
It's the sarcastic barren looks Ban gives him when he's off too far in Diane-land, just the right amount of annoyance and affection he would surmise to amount from the crook himself.
It's the light in his sister's eyes when he tells her she'll gain a new sister, and then later, a niece.
It's the days when he just sits by the cliffs beside her, musing the events of the day in talkative silence, just the two of them.
It's the feel of her lips on his cheek, "Thank you, Harlequin," and it's the elated feeling that doesn't fade until much, much later in the week.
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green
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-is the season he admires most, and he dips his toes in the grass just as she wakes up for the morning, stretching t her limbs in the most adorably feline way.
It's the sleepy good-morning's and the glint of a mischievous captain's eye seconds before a culinary disaster. It's the remnants of his best friend, the brilliantly dull helmet strapped to his neck like keepsake.
It's the way he holds her hand for the first time, tight and loose at the same time, and it's the nervousness seeping from his skin as she laughs.
It's the color of his sacred treasure under the only other thing that he considered sacred in his life for the longest time. His treasure.
It's the test of time as he feels himself grow jaded, and even as the years go by, she never grows old, not to him, never to him. She is as timeless as the sea itself, crashing against his beach until the end of time.
It's the symbol of new beginnings, the cry of a newborn that brings an ache to his aging bones.
It's the bitter jealousy he succumbs to as she fawns over a man who'll never love her the way she truly deserves.
And of course, it's the fruit of his summers, which he planned to spend with her as long as he shall live.
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blue
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It's the shade of her heart when he leaves, the opaque curtain he pulls over her with the scent of his absence – it's the memory he leaves after his tracks have disappeared from the soil.
It's the promise he makes her when he leaves for the first time – tarnished with dishonesty and yet somehow, she allows him to repair it slowly, and they mend each others hearts over the passage of centuries.
It's the smell of salt after he's found her crying again, and it's the condolences he offers her masked by fury because it's notfair that she loves him but he doesn't love her and he loves her and why couldn't she just remember him-
It's the years he spends pining for her, ad for vengeance against the man who led his sister and his home to its demise. Long, torturous time that drags along like a boulder up the tallest mountain, and it's the washing relief he feels like rebirth when he hears her voice for the first time in years oh he missedhersomuch-
It's the weight of her voice when she tells him she's afraid, and it's the rawness of his response to her – "I'll protect you Diane, I'll always be your light," – and it's the crashing doubt he feels when she calls him King once more.
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indigo
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-is the shadow of doubt cast over his face whenever he watches her fight – it's the nip in his gut, the oh god what if she doesn't make it feeling that takes him by the neck more frequently then he'd have himself openly admit.
It's the selfish wish that she would stay by his side, and his alone.
It's the connection between them, the time-worn chain link that binds them together even in the most violent of storms.
It's the smell of rain and the melancholy look on her face as she lets herself become soaked while the rest of them yield to the indoors, and of course it's the grateful smile she gives him when he rescues her in the form of an umbrella.
It's the feeling he gets after a fight, the heavy, dead-set growling that gnaws at him until he can't stand it any longer – he has to fix it, he always does.
…And she would always be willing to repair it with him.
It's the unspoken friendship between him and Ban, and the promise his sister revealed to him on her ring finger. It's the feeling of letting go, and trusting someone else to do what he wished he could've all those years.
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violet
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-is the crushing loneliness like the weight of a thousand suns she feels when he leaves her again&again, and the wondering she does afterwards – will he come back this time?
It's the howling of the wolves in the night and the shiver on her skin when she swears she's as small as a leaf – quaking under the chill of the wind and rendered powerless against the change of the seasons.
It's the texture of her skin when they make accidental contact, and it's the awkward silence that obediently follows.
It's the shy kisses on the back of her hand and the cool breeze playing with her bangs.
It's every oath he swears to her by the light of the moon, and it's every wish he's ever granted kept safe in a seashell.
It's the whisper of goodnight after the candles go out, and the unspoken pact that they'd both be there when the other woke up.
It's the nervous butterflies in his stomach before he vows to make her his for the rest of eternity.
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[and they both know that without the other – their worlds would be black&white]
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diclaimer: im colorblind