Come on, it had to be sapphire. It'll match his eyes. Not that he'll be walking around with his ring glued to the side of his face so that people can specifically notice this fact.

'I didn't,' she confesses, and slowly, so as not to seem too eager, she takes the box and opens it carefully, before gasping. She'd envisioned a diamond when she wondered late last night what the ring looked like, but a pearl is perfect. Her initiation was by the sea. It was where she figured out what she had to do on Wednesday afternoons. It was where she learned what she was really called. 'I--it's beautiful. It's perfect.' And she hands the box to him, so he can put it on her finger. Putting it on herself seems greedy, somehow.