Renard's eyes were a solid, intense blue, the color of a precious stone cut with perfect edges—sharp, clear, and almost hard, as though light itself had been fractured into cold facets that reflected nothing but their own brilliance.
Seraphina's were different: a deeper, softer blue that felt like looking down at the open sea from a great height, layered with shifting currents and quiet depth, infinite and mysterious.
In that moment both pairs of blue reflected the glow of the magma, two distinct shades of the same color locked together in silent understanding.
(Note: somewhere far away, Benjamin's own eyes—round, bright, and clear like a blue diamond dropped into water—existed in the same spectrum, though neither of them was thinking of him just then, their attention focused entirely on each other and the weight of their conversation.)
