Hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood.
That was the queen had blessed her young child, the little daughter that everyone waited so long for. She was as beautiful as her mother, but much more so with that. Her hair was not quite black now though; it shined a kaleidoscope of colours, like auburn, gold, silver and more. The pale skin was soft, and with a rosy hue in the round cheeks. The little, exquisite lips were painted by Nature a light, pinkish tint, a healthy and less vivid colour. She was so adorable.
Hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood.
The orphan princess was famed throughout the country now, as a great beauty. She was young still, on the cusp of womanhood, but there was a unmistakable mark of loveliness that had begun to embed itself into her sweet countenance. Her stepmother was jealous of her, no doubt, because Grimhilde was a vain woman, and little Snow White was a threat to her pride. At this age, she had yet to live up to the blessing yet though. Her cheeks still held the flush of youth in them, and her lips were still a shade a tad too light to be red. Her hair was obsidian now, but not black and opaque like ebony; the life in her was reflected nicely by the unbroken sheet of black. Light rays made it a multitude of colours, bright, and varied, sparkling like jewels.
Hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood.
The apple was lodged firmly in her throat, and no matter how she choked and coughed and spluttered, nothing worked. Her breaths were getting shallower by the second, brushing her lips faintly before fading away. The bristly stem from the core scratched her pretty lips, dragging across them until they were a bloody mess. Colour was bleeding out of her, as her breathing became fainter and fainter. Each breath was a struggle in itself. Her skin turned whiter, and whiter, and whiter, until it was akin to newly driven snow. The dark hair lost its life, turning limp and tired, the light falling on it only absorbed in. It fell around her like an opaque shield, turning solid and oh-so-black like ebony. As the dwarf laid her in the elegant glass coffin, she indeed made a magnificent figure.
Hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood.