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Summary
"Stop staring," Sandrone's voice is stern. A fluffy object is thrown at Columbina, brushing her wings as it flies past her. "I can feel that, you know. When you look at me."
Oh. Like her, Sandrone is sensitive to the pulses of energy.
"Do you not admire things you find pretty?" Columbina tilts her head, water dripping from her feathers.
"I'm not a thing — and I don't appreciate you poking me with your powers."
"But you are pretty," Columbina insists and this time Sandrone doesn't argue back.
