I protested that I dyed my hair, but he looked pointedly at my hips.
And, when he brushed his fingers against her cheek to wipe them away, a blush dyed her face red.
Rogarius, materialized a figure in a toga dyed in the darkest of Imperial Rogarian Blue.
A number of piercings sparkled on her ghostly-pale face, and her once-beautiful blonde hair had been dyed jet black.
Strips of fabrics dyed with bright reds, yellows, blues, and greens hung balls of evergreen sprigs.
His leather boots were dyed the same purple and also lined with fur, and as well-cared for as the rest of his attire.
The armor of both combatants was dyed a deep black, and neither wore a helm of any kind.
Like, the owner dyed her hair a different color every week, or she sometimes sacrificed goats after they shut down for the day?
A scant few wore matching cloaks dyed a startling black, but I had little time to observe better as the ebony cloaked citizens hurried at a greater pace than their white-robed brethren.
The dyed blonde hair was dry and frizzy, matching the rest of her embattled features.
