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“What do you think of this one?”
The glowing swirl of leaves before Adolin reformed into the shape of a young woman. Syl stood primly in the air a few inches from his face, dressed in the cobalt uniform of a Bridge Four officer. With a hand to her temple in salute, she looked like a tiny soldier awaiting inspection.
“Do you like the blue?” she asked, giving a twirl but maintaining her pose. “I know the whole rest of me is blue, but I worked really, really hard on making it deeper.”
Adolin nodded in eager encouragement. He always looked forward to these little consultations of theirs, usually caught between meetings or when Kaladin was asleep. She had flitted over to him today with a request to look more ‘dignified’, and Adolin was happy to oblige. Syl was a perfect tailor, able to weave his designs out of thin air, and model them without material or measurement.
“Yes, that’s much better. It gives you presence, commands respect. But there’s always room for more flair. Why don’t you try adding a cape?”
Syl’s face quirked in what Adolin assumed was concentration. Seconds later, a long silvery cape streamed down her back in a trail of mist and solidified into a velvet fabric.
Adolin whistled. “Now if that doesn’t say ancient spren of honor, I don’t know what does.”
Syl picked at the tail of the cloak speculatively. “I don’t know. Even if no one will see me, I don’t want to upstage Kaladin. I’m here to make him look good, after all.”
“If everyone dressed according to Kaladin’s standards, we would live in a very dull world.”
Syl flipped backwards through the air like a skyeel with an exaggerated groan. “I know! I keep telling him to try something different. Maybe a scarf, or a fancy hat. I think it would make him happier.”
Adolin chuckled at the idea of Kaladin’s signature scowl peeking out from under the brim of a hat like Veil’s. “It would certainly brighten my day.”
“First it was vests and sandals, day in and day out. And now it’s nothing but uniforms! Boring uniforms. At least you make yours more exciting. You should help him, Adolin, I know he’d like to spend more time with you even if he pretends he wouldn’t.” She sniffed.
And Adolin knew that already (his bridgeboy wasn’t as imperceptible as he thought he was), but hearing it from the mouth of the Windrunner’s spren warmed something deep inside him.
“I do love the cape,” Syl chimed.
“See? Nothing wrong with a little presentation.”
He leaned back and admired as Syl floated this way and that, making her cape flutter, then billow in an imaginary wind. Until she blurted out, “You should see what he wears to bed!”
Adolin doubled over with laughter.