Merah Vermilion Novels & Stories

The specific warm ochre she had been drawn to since she was twenty-two and had bought a secondhand blouse in that color from a market in Barcelona and had worn it until it had worn through at the cuffs and had thrown it away and had mourned it in the small specific way you mourned the loss of something that had been, without your planning for it, the right thing. Rust-red. Not burgundy — the Victoria colors had included a deep burgundy that was almost red, that was red's controlled and composed cousin. This was rust-red, the actual color, the color of something that had been out in the weather, that had warmth without precision, that was the color she bought when she bought for herself and n

Threats. The Blood King, one rumor had called him. The Red Serpent, another. The man who burnt cities just to watch the smoke. “No,” I said. Something like amusement flashed in his eyes. There and gone. “Good,” he murmured. “Fair enough. You’re nobody to me yet either.” He crouched down to my level in one fluid motion, elbows resting loosely on his knees, bringing his face close enough that I could see the faint ring of a lighter gold around his irises.

Her lips had been painted in it. Blood red.

It's tradition. It's an elaborate victorian crown with emeralds and crystals incrested all over. Across the front are green gems resembling ivy with a prominent giant pear-cut emerald in the middle. The points are all differently shaped emeralds with crystals. It's a beautiful, perfect blend of Silver Moon and me. Our colors combined. "I...I love it!" A single tear drops down my cheek before she comes rushing over, dabbing it off. "Don't cry, sweet girl. So happy you love it. Now let's put it on and show my son why it's such a good thing he came to his senses yesterday."

But for Alex, he automatically knew who it was as he immediately recognized his white hoodie that got splattered with paint in the colors of the rainbow. He scrolled up and as the caption, he simply had a blue heart emoji. "Blue."

“This will do the trick.” It’s deep cherry red.

His hips ground against mine as he whispered my name over and over, a mantra only he knew this intimately. Vetur flared, energy zinging through me. My power was back. It reached for him and his fire answered. In a daze, I watched as they mingled and became one. Pure white and glacial blue intertwined with burning red, vibrant yellow, and glowing orange. It was majestic. My Vetur and his fire.

"This will do the trick." It's deep cherry red.

Her tears fell onto the marble, leaving small, temporary dark marks. It was then that Valentim moved again. He went to a nearby workbench where jars of powdered pigments—burnt earths, oxides, ultramarine blues—were lined up like an alchemist’s paints. He opened a small wooden jar containing a deep, vibrant red pigment, the color of rust, of blood, of life.