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Fire. Fire swirling through her eyes, dancing like a slithering snake, silver silky cold, trailing ash wherever it goes, ice in its eyes belying the fire in its tongue. Scales gleaming like jewels in twilight, faery light, the times between are stuck between it's teeth like lint in a pocket, lint like faery dust, that's where they get it. Sloughed off dried skin, bits of hair and dust and faery cloth all dried and mixed until it forms lint in their pockets, and they sprinkle it over everything, and then you can fly, it's like you're on Prozac, only you can really see the world, see it down to the bone, see the tendons that interconnect our lives, our skins, we're all connected by the times between, the faery lights that keep the world turning, revolving.