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She had never known color.
Never known in what hues the world was drowned in. She could smell it, in the pigments and chemicals used to make up certain colors, but Narti had never known them.
She never would.
Though sometimes, very rarely, the female General would, somehow, receive the slightest hint of color. A sort of smoke that would curl around her shoulders and through her fingers. It was a warm, happy sort of color.
And she loved it.
But it never lasted.