It’s stained glass, lead-lined. Eloquent. Pre-Raphaelite, probably, judging by the sheer amount of blue and red, white, and yellow.
The namesake beast out of Physiologus kneels in the lap of a coin-haired maid, its body drawn in long, lean cuts of cream and white.
The girlish figure is full, shaped by an array of silvery pearl hues and gold-etched misgivings. The face looks suspiciously like River’s own.
River bends to touch her fingers to the glass animal, fixing the subtle colors of him with a discerning eye.
Her fingertips trace the soft swirl of beard at his long equine chin and find a surprising bit of purple folding there, hidden behind the cool yellow daisy dangling from the woman’s upraised hand, the head sticking nonchalantly out of the unicorn’s noble and nibbling maw.
“You and your bowties, Sweetie,” River Song murmurs as she applies her cherry red lips to the window, then leaves the way she came, with the fine old glass wearing a full and juicy carnival apple kiss upon her timely departure, “... good night.”