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As a man, Kor doesn't know the difference between shades of white.
Not that he doesn't see color, no. Nor is it a applicable to skin. He knows enough of the troubles humanity had to face to overcome color. So in a most literal sense, he can only hope to also step past the boundary of the unknown.
Like knowing the absence of color from the pearly gates above, and the presence of it all clashing like noise when the hells broke loose. (Their robes tainted with darkness from their sins—arguably splatters of color all at once, mixing in an ugly shade, a pour from their sides of freedom but with a high cost. He knows that color is white, and it was all that mattered then.)
Like knowing the presence of color from the scientist who wormed her way into his heart. (She claims white is not the absence of color—that would make a void, she says, and what void is painted white than black? A smart mouth he definitely likes to shut most of the time, just in different methods and context.)
Like knowing the colors of the fractures and cleavages of a diamond, pressurized into the shape he needs it to be. (One he found during their long adventure, much preferable than simply creating one from his own magic. He knows anyway that she will be able to tell. She has always been impressive with inspection and observation.)
Like knowing the color of the smoothened band that hopefully is his beloved's size, prongs holding the diamond in place, forging a design on what they always bonded over: stars and flowers. (Flora decorates the engravings, while stars push toward the prongs as if colliding meteors. It took most of his time, being that this was his first try at forging. Most of his experiences are actually firsts thanks to his lover, he realizes.)
The answer, as always, is given to him by the one who's taught him his new life: his possible soon-to-be bride. In a pair of alabaster hands holding him towards the light, the true white of the world beyond the hypocritical high skies that in truth masked the darkest of blacks.
In eggshell dresses that spun in the golden hours of the day, reminding him that this was what he was fighting for. The day that this would be his norm, his everyday. The day that war would be wiped from all the realms, the day that his collection of battle scars and wounds would finally cease increment.
For now, his greatest battle is of the heart. Of his and one other. Crystals peer down on them, illuminated in candlelight, and despite the chandelier being ages of old that it deserves its own spectator, Kor's eyes are on another that is lovelier.
"So you do know how to book a date," Her voice is obviously laced with amusement, her bullying filled with mirth.
"Use that tone with me again and I'll learn how to cancel one."
"Vintage, jazz, and..." Aerated wine swirls in the glass held by manicured fingers. Fingers painted his favorite color; she knew he would notice every tiny detail. Because it isn't tiny to him. Every detail is one worth noticing just as the ones most obvious. "Oh, pardon me. There's two antiques in my peripherals."
His signature move is to roll his etes at her teasing. "So you say, but I know now you are just almost as old as I am. Having witnessed my fall, you no longer hold the image of 'human scribe' to me."
"And what is my image now in your eyes?"
"Eternity. You are my before and after. My today, tomorrow, and everyday. There is no end if it is you."
The velvet and linen feel soft to the touch, but it isn't what he wants to touch. Not when pairs of gloves stack upon each other in mutual need, and fingers intertwine in affectionate desperation.
"You look beautiful in white," Kor whispers. "You are white. The pearl of the heavens, the powder in the earth, the iridescence of diamonds, and the gold of commitment."
His lover is good at masking her emotions, but it is the genuine ones that Kor burns in his memory, and this expression she bears now is his most favorite.
The ring's reflection glimmers in her glassy orbs, with Kor's own starting to water as well, gaze never leaving her.
"I have always wanted you to be my bride." He starts, voice not as steady as he'd like it to be. This is it. The fight of his life. "It took this long to present you this ring because I wanted you to have all my firsts—my first forge, my first reservation, my first speech."
"My first dawn in this peaceful world we've long fought for. I wanted to spend all my firsts with you. Because you are and will always be my first anything. First love, first friend, first soulmate. And I hope when you accept this, you turn from my first beloved to my only beloved."
His words are topped off with the million dollar question. "Will you marry me?"
The candlelight flickers. Movement of water now louder than either of their heartbeats as flowers floating around them push aside like waves, and Kor is met with his turning-fiancée leaping into his arms.
The water engulfs their feet, tealight candles almost washed away by the tides of Nieva's excitement. "Yes! I will marry you!"
Just like how her hand fits perfectly with his, the ring hugs her finger the same way, secure and snug. A sigil of white, finally home.
It is also then that Kor learns his favorite of all whites is ivory, beating eggshell with how it looked on his fiancée, adorned in cotton roses folded like origami. The flowers cascade down her shoulders and with the wavering reflection if light from the water, she was veiled in white, Kor's opposite in color.
And yet, it was his beloved's color, so it soon shall be his.
--
"The dress is two sizes bigger, that's why it looks like Greek robes." She reasons with him to try and ruin his dreamy description of her.
"That's good. Easier to take off."
"Usually, that kind of stuff should come after the wedding."
"And yet you come multiple times before that and yet I have not condemned you for it."
"Sometimes I think I should have thought this engagement through."
"I jest, beloved."
"I am guessing Ais was your mentor in comedy—I'd give a dry laugh as your score."
Somewhere, a redhead bridesmaid sneezes, urging an impulsive photo taken by her admirer from afar.