Crimson Bloom: A Color-speak Short Story

What is the world if not a pallet of unrestricted color? Armed with a brush, what limitations do we really have? How far would the people around us go to prevent us from displaying all that we can be? And if we were to find out that the people meant to shape us were only boxing us in, what would we do? How far would WE go to bleed our colors into the world?