It was blue, with purple tinged flames but she stared at it with a avid expression. "I don't need to bottle flame." He told her. "My ancestor called this faerie fire." She opened and closed her beak. "Do you-" her head snapped and for a fraction of a moment he was frightened that she would hurt him. But her beak passed right through his flesh as if it wasn't even there truly. Like a ghost as she mindlessly and avidly swallowed the flame. He recalled the way her claws felt, and realized them too passed easily through him. It was possible that if he was her mate, she couldn’t actually hurt him. 