sweet summer child

Haze has had somewhere on the order of five years to acclimate herself to her current state of being as a Blade and as an individual - and, then again, as a not-individual. As a Blade of a Driver, and as a part of a family, because Lady Lora is very, very kind.

She has not struggled, she notices, with self-determination; with becoming something of her own even as she walks with Lora's legs, talks with Lora's lips. Her voice is higher, and her hands are not quite the same shape, about the ring of each finger.

(Lora's legs are even stronger, yet, now than they had been, five years ago. And perhaps Haze simply does not mind the change. Or perhaps she is pretending. But she feels more truthful with the former than with the latter.)

No, Haze is very firmly and effervescently Haze. Always, always, always! She responds to situations with her own dose of fear and alternate intrepidation, taking spirited cues and not only verbatim instructions from her lady. Her hair has a slightly different texture, a slightly different tone, and she wears it in an altogether different manner. Her pants and sleeves are long, appropriately billowing, but she trots at a much more mincing gait than that of her lady.

Haze is quite happy. Quite happy, indeed. Though she knows of Lora's favoritism, and learns it more intimately with each passing day, for the simple joys that each of those days brings, Haze finds herself wildly content with the easy way she and Lora share - and share not just alike but in altogether neat halves. Wonderful twins!

Food, of this group or that (woodland meals are delicious and so homey, even with Jin's exacting cooking, but town cuisine is even fancier yet, and always exactly what Haze is craving), and handicrafts and entertainment, and hair ribbons and scented soaps and all the delights of femininity paired with all the fascinations of freedom.

She is free, in fact. Lora doesn't make her do a single thing she doesn't want to do. Every day their goals are realigned anew as they rouse from angel-guarded sleep. Haze has no reason, earthly or otherwise, to feel she should leave her lady. They have a central quest, as well, and help so many people along the way.

Of Lora's personal sadness, sorrow and lonesome grief, Haze does partake, both empathetically and sympathetically. They share emotions quite fluidly, always taking turns cheering each other up and finding the bright side upon which to look. They can both afford to be optimists, if Jin is their relentless pessimist (only he isn't, so much as he is startlingly real), or Lora can afford to bounce wholeheartedly between the two extremes, as her moods take her.

Haze can have moods, too. She can be stormy, batting back at unfair treatment within or without their little group (sometimes it's Jin who gets overlooked, as to his preferences, when Lora's caught up in her thrilled rush), melancholy as an opportunity passes her by, elated at the promise of a new adventure, or merely content. Very often, Haze is content.

What fraction, of priceless time? What composition, of edgeless years?

Five years. Five years is such a short time, really. Actually, it's a frighteningly small portion of a life. It's not even greedy of Haze to want more, and more, and more!

It'd frighten her if she tired of this life. It'd frighten her if she didn't remember what it was like to have such a life as this. Isn't this simply the complete experience?

Well, perhaps adding Mikhail will be enough. A new little one to take care of, and a fourth opinion, when decisions are to be made. But they can't have Mikhail without Milton, now, can they? And Milton comes with Master Addam, and Lady Mythra.

But that's fine. They won't be traveling with the Aegis for long, surely. Soon enough they'll reach their goals, and go their separate ways again.

They'll never meet the Ardainian emperor, and his wonderful Blades, and a Blade from Indol who is so kind and so complex, for all what terrible things have happened to him - things Haze could hardly imagine, but listens to the associated recount with bated, binding breath.

It's not possible. It could hardly be real!

Jin's lips looked pinched. "Seventeen years," he mutters to himself.

Haze gives him a fond look. Silly Jin! Always worrying, worrying... "I hope we'll have at least thrice that many more, with everyone!" Together!