OH LORDS I MISSED MY COMPUTER!!!
This kinda just flicked into my mind, and

Crimson battlefield
Crimson dots the dustless, rich, brown earth of the field, captivating in the beauty that, at the same time, is swallowed up by the endless colorless deadly art created by an amassed dripping.
Dripping.
Never stopping.
The ruby droplets scatter as far as the eye can see, brazenly standing out within the sun's golden radiance; so close and warm, to see and not to touch, yet so hauntingly distant and cold, every caress blazing of flame.
At first only a few adorn the ground, trembling as the earth beneath them moves, until the inevitable moment they sink into the earth, the only remaining proof they had been there being the ever-present blotches upon the ground, even though they would disappear, floating away, mingling with the dust as the wind picked up and carried it away, an offer to whichever deity had designed this work of art.
And a work of art it was, no less as the raw colored flecks multiplied, from a dozen, ranging rapidly towards the millions, no longer in the perfectly shaped freckles of red, but gory splashes of hue in a colorless world.
The disarrangement of it, in its lack of control, of similarity, of symmetry, only served to better display that beauty was within the eye of the beholder, and that beauty could be found in every aspect of life.
A dark cloud rang true as no longer were the splashes alone, they were accompanied by the musical ringing of screams in the dusk, screams of agony, screams of triumph, screams from the battlefield, and of bodies laying, sitting, moaning, twitching, covering the blood spots, and at the same time, deepening their impact.
None will ever speak of this day, as they lay close to the coppery stench of that beautiful liquid, death hovering around them, and they saw it, I know they did, they say the beauty that lay beneath it, within it, around it, inside them all, and I believe it frightened them.
As they lay there on that crimson battlefield.