In this next life, Lunafreya finds out that she dislikes pink more than anything.
It's a strange feeling, having this much freedom and choice, more than her heart could bear and her two hands could ever hold. The belated revelation incites a twinge of jealousy in her past self at everything; it's but natural to not hold feelings for what one does not know about, until they do.
The Oracle knew nothing then, but the Princess of Lucis knows everything now— more than she wishes she does, but then again, she wasn't given a choice.
An even stranger thing, how cruel reincarnation was to her, and not to Noctis. The gods never did play fair.
They still exchange notes, through the same red leather-bound notebook that had defined who they were to each other for the twelve years before and the five or so years now. Lunafreya did not know enough to circumvent this horrible repeat circumstance, until everything just fell into place and they were separated once more, only hearing from each other once every few months.
At least Noctis has a camera now; Prompto made sure of that when she'd lamented to him her state of affairs over dinner and dessert at a family restaurant. The day a developed photo of the sylleblossom garden at night fell out of their notebook, she had loudly squeaked in her room, and her best friend only sent a large thumbs-up in their chat.
She's taken a keen interest in photography, too, since then.
The notebook comes back one afternoon in Senior Year. Umbra and Pryna excitedly run up to Lunafreya across the street, drawing everyone's attention to their princess in a manner Gladiolus finds most troublesome, if his low grunt is of any indication. She pays him no mind, however, quickly flipping to the most recent page to read what Noctis had written her.
Enclosed is a photo of a faded pink thermos with sylleblossom patterns, arranged in a near-professional flatlay arrangement surrounded by small flowers and trinkets with missing rhinestones. "Cleaned the old room today. Look what I found!"
Lunafreya lets out a small gasp at this; she thought she had lost it before. Ravus had offered to buy her the exact same one back then, but she only wanted that one. The mourning period only lasted for all of a month, however, when she got a newer and better one for her birthday after.
She is crouched down on the sidewalk before she knows it, hugging the notebook in tears. Ignis, too, goes on his knees and gently rubs her back in circles, while everyone else goes on with their lives out of respect.
With just a simple lost-and-found note, Lunafreya's memories of the color pink have changed, turned around so fast before she could even process it. It's but natural to not hold feelings for what one does not know about, after all, until they do.
It's a strange feeling, having so much to cherish and hold dear, that one doesn't even realize it. The Oracle never knew what true joy felt like, but the Princess of Lucis knows it now— more than her heart could bear and two hands could ever hold.
And she only has the gods to thanks for it.