“That was assumed.”
She sat on the floor in front of the fire, the stones growing warm at last. Grey sat on one of the black chairs. It creaked in a familiar way. Wood then.
“Did it hurt?” she asked. “In the Briar, when we-”
He stopped her. “It burned! I imagine I'm blistered.” He started to unfasten his pants. Part of her wanted to look away, to chide him, but she supposed she should become acquainted with him, all of him.
His colourless eyes narrowed. “You don't plan on attacking me, do you?”
She laughed. “With what? The heat of my touch?”
She continued to chuckle. “No, I was only curious what colour your skin was, if you were like Summer men.
He nodded. “Only if you do the same.”
She licked her lips. Her dress was the only piece of Summer she still had with her. Well, he wasn't asking to keep it, only to see beneath. She rose to her knees and began pulling it over her head. Rustling followed his clothing. His pants fell and they sat, looking at one another.
He was that odd grey over his whole body, silvery hair covering places, and yet, between his legs was pink. It did look burned, scalded, but not blistered as he'd claimed. She followed up his chest, the rest of his skin pearly. Colour! She reached out, the fire magic still in her fingers.
He hadn't been idle either, his fingers reaching toward one of her now exposed breasts, greenish with a rosy brown nipple. She reached past him to his knee and his hand brushed the skin above the nipple.