One of the men, wearing a broad gold belt around his crimson robes, stepped forward.

Strong gusts of wind tugged at his crimson robes as he looked across the land.

The robot stood in his fine crimson robes trimmed with gold fur.

And then we came into a small room where a group of monks in crimson robes were huddled around a coal fire.

The man in the crimson robe arose and walked to the doors that opened on the roof.

A soft crimson robe was clutched about her, held negligently by one hand.

The woman appeared to be wearing a bizarre crimson robe.

The sleeves of her crimson robe were damp with tears.

With one hand, he gestured to his clothing, as if to indicate the absence of the traditional crimson robes.

She had not yet earned the right to wear the crimson robe.