brightfire/coldlight ; for any ocs
coldlight, Nim and Bentin
âThat doesnâtâŚ. make any sense, Ben,â Nim murmured, watching the sphere of light coalesce between Bentinâs claws. Sheâd watched him play with his light-manipulating abilities before, but had never really observed it up close.Â
âWhat doesnât?â The bright white light flickered blue, briefly, before glittering into several distinct golden spheres.Â
âThis light- light of this frequency should give off heat, but itâsâŚâ Nim trailed off, her wings fluttering in agitation as she reached out for one of the balls of light. Her hand passed through without feeling anything but a cool patch of air, tingling slightly in the webbing of her fingers. âItâs cold.â
Bentin shrugged. âThe sun is hot, but it has things making its light. I figure that if my light comes from me, and Iâm not a big bunch of gas or an electrical thing, it makes sense that itâs cool.âÂ
âNo!â Nim stood up, her cheeks glowing a bright yellow. âIt doesnât make any sense at all!â You shouldnât even be able to generate light, or manipulate it the way you do! You shouldnât be able to create illusions or- or beams of sunlight. It shouldnât be cool, it shouldnât even exist!!â
Bentin waited a moment before letting his hands down, green sparkles dissipating up his furred arms with the fading light. âLike your stuff with the shadows? How you can make them dance without anything blocking light?â
Nimâs shoulders went slack and the tips of her wings drooped to the floor. She opened her mouth once, twice, and then shut it, scrubbing tears from her eyes.
âYeah,â she said, her voice suddenly very small. âLike that.â