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She is delicate and refined, not a hair out of place, all sleek angles and pretty features. Her eyes are the sky, they don't just look like it, they are it. Two pieces of the sky stuck in her skull. When she smiles he feels at a loss, all weak-kneed and tongue-tied, and when she says his name he feels like he could conquer the world.
He is clumsy and a mess, pelt tangled and muddied, paws constantly tripping him up, a silly fool with a strange need to make others laugh. His eyes he think are plain, an ordinary green that doesn't really stick out. He knows his limbs are gangly and long, and that he isn't very strong or fast or smart. He isn't anything really. But, by the stars, does he feel on top of the world when he makes her laugh.
"Would you do me the honour of becoming my mate, Heathersky?" he mumbles to her one day, using big words in an attempt to woo her.
She smiles and it reaches well into her eyes. "Ask me like you would."
Confused he squeaks out, "be my mate?"
"Yes, Rainpatch, I will," she purrs.