It's pointless to watch her sleep, because Rahzel's eyes are her best feature.
In the light of dawn they are a clear ocean, with an underlying turbulence. In the afternoon sun they sparkle with intelligence and zeal as she bursts uninvited into another hackle-raising adventure that Alzeid would otherwise be unwilling to engage in. In the sunset of evening, they are an overflowing deep azure; he often finds her crying in the evening. She really must cease barging into the affairs of children. They always turn her into a walking faucet.
When night falls and she has calmed down after a day of adventure, excitement, horror, and sadness, and they bid each other goodnight with a number of words you could count on a single hand, they are at half-mast and almost too dark to count as "blue."
But when she sleeps, they are hidden behind a protective veil of flesh and lashes.
It's pointless to watch her sleep. Alzeid doesn't know why he does it.