In an endless black void, thousands of white feathers hung helplessly in the air. Perhaps that was not the right term, for in the depths of space there was no air to hang in.
Regardless, these feathers were unbothered by the lack of oxygen, or any other gases that could be regarded as air, as they drifted aimlessly through the void without the reigns of gravity to drag them down.
A few of these feathers were spattered with bright red droplets, the divine purity of the feathers a blood that was itself so sublime and pure that even simply calling red felt insulting.
Scarlet nectar, nor crimson ambrosia did nearly enough of a service either. It was such a vibrant colour that it was as if someone had spent their entire lives making the most perfect shade the world had ever seen, only for that shade to somehow have a baby that was even more perfect than itself.
