The fiery prince saw hot kaledescopic pigments, much more than the mundane grays, the placid blues, and the soft velvety blacks to which he was accustomed. Two rose lips–actually their sharp corners–raised as heat beat his body pink. Oh that sweet monarch, whose eyes fluttered like butterflies’ wings. He gasped for life as it rushed into and out of him. Flying silver clanked against stone, the reds dancing away.
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