Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ⅳ, we accept the love we think we deserve.
If given the chance to, Yuna would come to love him countless times over countless different lives. It's not necessarily something she could control, the inevitable tumbling into love, the sinking feeling that accepting love would give. It was a funny little thing, to fall into love because falling can seem beyond control, the steady inability to be apart, that is the pinnacle at which you are unable to imagine a world without the other.
Maybe it's because Yuna has already seen the future that being apart from him feels odd. She's already been given the feeling of falling much earlier and with little anticipation for the exact moment. It's not an entirely sad thought, in fact, Yuna has always had a fear of the dark. Not the one of absence from the light but the type of darkness that comes with having a blindfold bound to your eyes and being stripped from the awareness she's always had.
Yuna can't bear to not be aware of what was to come. That was her deep manifestation of fear, fear of being in the dark about life. So Yuna would never bring herself to feel saddened over being stripped of surprise, she'd bask in it until her last waking breath. Until she would have an absence of light, permanently.
Yet, until that particular moment in time, she'd appreciate the light, especially the type that strung down from the chill of the permafrost Ravka-Fjerda border. Beams bounced off ice and snow, illuminating the land in a brilliant glow that seemed like it would—and could, never end.
She kept her back to the distant border that gave way to Fjerdan land, eyes trailed over thick mountains of snow that made it difficult for many of the Grisha to walk along. The Inferni grumbled about it the most, so adept with heat that their first instinct would have been to pull a match and maneuver the fire onto the landscape. They probably would have resorted to that if they didn't know better. There was always a constant risk of witch hunters walking the border, ready for the moment to bind their hands and burn them until their corpse was unidentifiable.
Nobody looked at her with kindness, all too against her existence that none of them could muster an inch of pleasantries for a Shu. The thick black cloak Aleksander had given her made it a little difficult to walk but it provided her with so much warmth that she didn't want to part with it. She was still not used to how cold it would get in Ravka, not when the only temperature Shu Han ever experienced was summer.
Yuna pulled her hands together from behind her back, pinky fingers grazing each other before doing the same to her ring finger. The familiar hum of power strung through her, hummed with amplification only she could provide for herself. Exhaling, she slowly swung her hands around when one of the Ravkan Grisha soldiers stumbled over a small piece of ice.
