Broken Boulder dream for me anything, but dream it in color

The boy scooted himself closer to his sister, turning onto his back as well to follow her gaze. A tentative smile had spread across his face at her words. He didn't say anything for a few beats, simply studying the sky, but then he turned to lean his face against her.
It's nice. He agreed, allowing another pause before he spoke again. We should tell the others about it. But it needs a name, I think-- it deserves one.
Ali's eyes settled on her half-expectantly, then; he may not have been close to his sister, but it had never been a secret that she was a creative soul. He thought of her as stained in pastel paint rainbows, wrapped in the dancing lilt of a tune; even if she had not inherited their mother's fine features (which she had), everything about Lanawyn was elegant-- crafted as if she herself were a piece of art. So of course he expected her to name the goddamn wildflower patch.