Hues of the Void
We lack the language to express the Void in all its complexities. We have no words for its beauty. There is the rich, velvety darkness of the depths of the ocean. The hollow hues of the sky on a starless night. The cold color when you close your eyes to moonlight. The mottled pigments of a bruise on tender skin. The sharp black at the corners of your vision as you faint from exhaustion. A crumbled anointment of old blood. Your own face reflected faintly in a dark glass.
I was ignorant of these delicate gradations when I first arrived, but the Eye of the Dead God has penetrated my senses and opened my mind. What was once a dull gray has revealed its subtle luster.
In my former life, I was a painter. I captured the blush of a young debutante's cheek, or the turn of a noble's shapely calf. I was paid vast sums to render the most insipid, lifeless aristrocratic faces into grand examples of virile splendor. But nothing I had ever seen compares to the grace and color of the Void.