As she stands still, watching him, the snow begins to collect on her body. Most of it melts on her back, too exposed to the heat of her skin, but some of it lingers, hanging precariously, ready to jump ship at any moment. She looks down — first at his feet, and then her own, noticing that the warmth of her and Helion together had made the ground turn to slush, exposing the patches of dead grass.
When he turns to her, grinning brightly, she takes a moment to study his face. His silver eyes are soft, kind. Inviting. His smile warms her chilled bones. He’s golden, like her, but so different. His wings and horns are fascinating, and she finds herself especially jealous of his shiny wings — massive and expanding before folding at his sides.
“A sun,” she considers quietly, tilting her head, ears pricked toward him. Is it odd she’d never considered what she could be? Why she was different from her mothers and sister, why the light followed her every step, the flowers turned their heads towards her? It baffles her that this boy is so confident, that he knows who he is. Isere had never thought of herself as insecure, but she also wasn’t inquisitive. It had never crossed her mind to think of herself at all.
“Maybe,” she decides, a sly grin spreading across her face. “I’m brighter than you, though. Maybe I’m the sun,” she says, teasingly, “you should ask me very nicely and see.”