Red was born skinny and small, like a figure sketched on paper.
Despite her feeble body, her eyes burned the color of her name.
Her skin was dark and her hair was curled tight and dry.
She was female - the first child, the first daughter, the first color.
Red most resembled her mother, carrying heat in her heart and hands.
Yet she had her father’s severity, his thin body and hard laughter.
The rest of her was her alone, the first of her kind.
Red, the passionate, the violent, herald of destruction, and bringer of light.
Black was pleased enough with his daughter and her similarities to him.
White, however, thought it unfair that Red so resembled her in nature.
She and her daughter both shared an affinity for action and movement.
The same could not be said for Black, who much preferred stillness.