He can't get that blue light out of his head.
It's not that he's never looked at it before--it's beautiful, it's wealth and power and never having a shortage of warmth for his bed, he can't get enough of looking at it--but there is something different about the vivid memory in his mind.
The pale sheen of indigo-lit skin, already so white, now glowing phospherescent (like a nightlight); eyes so dark, like oceans going on forever, intense and beautiful and only deepened by the shadows the blue light throws over them; hair that catches the light in a shimmering, iridescent rainbow, a gradient of shining blue in constant motion as she sings to
