The Color of Purple
It was like walking into a nightclub. Neon lights flashed, revealing every little crevice of stains in his suit. He was a pure demon, but his attire was questionable, as that he wore lace. One look into his eyes would send the most powerful mortals down on their knees. The sword he used, he made out of his own flesh and blood. One last ingredient was needed: her human tears.
Her human emotion would wield the power of destruction and creation – little did he know that his blood, red and blue – were the devil's color. And hers were gold like the sunrise.
