oh, i love you, girl

At first, Haze didn't understand why Lady Lora hated the city. Wouldn't it be so gay, to flit down the streets of Torna's golden capitals and Gormott's hamlets so quaint, Mor Ardain's metropolises and Uraya's circular squares? Wouldn't they look so well together, walking hand in hand in matching sets of embroidered clothes?

But the town life meant publicity, meant people knowing who Jin was. And Haze could understand that well enough, she wasn't so naïve.

No, the real revelation was how much beauty came in the life beyond. How the bells of civilization were shallow in comparison to the tolling of the Marrins' lows, how the chill of imported odifa simply couldn't compare to the summery kiss of the sun on even the earliest of spring's frost. Haze heard and felt these, saw deeper rainbows than artificial goods could ever paint, smelled and tasted more complex dressings of the future than even that atop the finest artisanal salad.

There was the tilt of blush and curiosity on Lora's cheeks glowing a fiery reflection of her hair, so free and infectious. There were kisses, sweet and slow. There was laughter. There were tears. There was life, always, and the wilds brought her, them, everything.

And oh, the bells of Indol are so, so cold. It's not as if Fan understands why, though.