Freedom is multi-layered, like a carefully knit scarf following a pattern and full of color. And yet, Shirayuki feels the ease of it, the way it sinks into her bones, the way it gives her a chance to breathe and instead of sorting through water for air, finding air without the need of an ocean of support. It's a kind of surreal feeling, a certain kind of different, but one she likes nonetheless.
It's different being on land; there's certain kinds of responsibilities that are different than back home. Back home, one hunts and swims and gathers. Here, one works and then is able to gather. No hunting necessary. It's strange and sometimes a little inconvenient for one who is used to long work to get a meal after you've burned off enough energy to crave one.
And Shirayuki's pretty sure she's gained some weight since being on land and also that she's lost some of her muscle. Though she tries to slip into the sea almost nightly, to feel the water surround her like a warm blanket, to stretch otherwise unworked muscles and to feel much more like herself.
It's why she's at a seaside town anyway. It would feel terribly cruel to isolate herself from her original home anyway. But it's also here where she meets someone who makes her feel different, who when he touches her sends metaphorical bolts of energy through her, like sparks over the waves.
And she knows better. Shirayuki may be free to discover a life for herself and make it for herself, but humans are known for capturing freedom and making it bend to their own will, until freedom is almost erased. And so, Shirayuki knows where and when to exercise caution.
But his eyes are golden like the sun rising in the morning and like the sunset as it slowly bends across the waves, and his touch is warm like the embrace of the sea so close to this town. And his smile is like the brush of a wave against the shoreline, wild and free and beautiful and familiar all at once.
Shirayuki knows so much better than this, but her heart still seems so unaware.