Milo had grown accustomed to the many changes that had come with undeath. At first, the shift of his colour perception threw him off, and then it'd only enraged him. But now, he was used to red skies and a sun that was never bright enough even when he looked directly upon it. But the sands of the desert, familiar and ever restless just like himself, were not the silvery blue he'd come to eventually appreciate over the years.There was no colour to the sands at all.
Nor the sky, the sun, or his very self when he looked down. Nothing had colour any more. Blackened and calcified fingers curled around the device in his hands as he looked across the desert land. This was a change Milo was not willing to get used to.
