In her world of grey, she sees a dash of color.
She picks the blossom from its nest, smoothing slight fingers over the delicate golden floweret. It trembles in her hands, swaying in harmony with the breeze. A petal slips between her fingers and drifts upon the silent pool before her.
She stands and turns away, floret clutched tightly in her hands. Then she sees him. He is like the flower, in full chroma.
Ebony hair shrouds his pale face, and sapphire eyes gaze upon her.
Arrogant, dignified.
She drops the golden flower.
Insignificant, invisible.
And yet he sees her.