The stone prickled at her, slow and insistent and deep. Not the hot, immediate fire of Elaine's magic, but something older, something wiser. Patience was in that magic, because it had no need to rush, to burn and consume. It had been before the lesser magics and it would be long after they had faded.
Meghan stared after the stone while Enfys led her inside, boiling over with questions she never quite got around to asking. Because then Enfys was all pale, smooth skin, was cream and silver and starlight, and she pulled in a shuddering breath to look at her. "You're beautiful," she murmured, tracing her fingertips lightly down Enfys' arms, pressing a gentle, worshiping kiss to each shoulder.
She wanted to ask what came next, because she honestly didn't know. This wasn't like with Elaine, wasn't her stumbling in, half drugged on the magic. Enfys was cool blue, was water lapping the shore, where Elaine was all fire and heat and brilliant reds. Meghan didn't know what either wanted with her, but she knew her dreams, when they weren't nightmares, were filled with slim limbs and pale skin and red hair in the moonlight.