Saw oomfies do this and thought it was cute!
Lilith was born in Banora. For most of her life, she had never known real cold until, all at once, she did. The shock hit her like a cat plunged into a tub of ice water. Poor little Lilith had scampered off immediately, desperate for the shelter and warmth of any building she could find.
It wasn't that she loved the heat. Back home, it could be sweltering, thick, and unbreathable. But she’d still take it over a bone-chilling cold that felt far too close to what she imagined death to be. And for a girl like Lily, death was never far from her thoughts, its scent lingering nearby whether she invited it or not. Cold was an unfamiliar enemy, one she couldn't defeat if forced to endure it. Worse, she was embarrassed to admit it wasn't just physical discomfort but mentally, the cold felt like iron shackles locked tight around her wrists, ankles, and throat.
She was a strong girl. Strong girls weren't afraid of the weather. And yet... lying alone at night on the world’s most uncomfortable bed, watching her fingers turn to ice and feeling her toes go numb, the cold felt entirely too much like being buried alive.
It was the exact same feeling she’d gotten when she first met Sephiroth as a child. Genesis and Angeal were her world, and to Lily, they were sunlight personified. Sephiroth was something else entirely. It pained her to admit it now as an adult, because she truly adored Seph, but back then, just being in the same room as him smelled like the frozen tundra of death.
Summers in Banora were brutal. Truthfully, the heat was relentless for most of the year, but Lilith had always found ways to beat it, usually by dragging Genesis and Angeal along. She built a tire swing over their favorite swimming hole. They spent hours under the tunnel of apple trees leading into town, watching clouds through the leafy canopy. When the heat grew unbearable, Genesis would invite them into his family’s library to sit in front of a battery of industrial fans. And on milder days, she would help her adoptive mother tend the gardens and grounds of the Rhapsodos estate.
Summer in Banora was hard, but it had never felt like dying.
Now, drowning in the sudden disappearance of her lover and the absurd collapse of her world, she hated the cold more than ever. Without her sunlight, without her Genesis, she couldn't escape that rotten, hollow stench of late winter, where everything was swallowed whole by grey sky and never-ending dark.
And gods, why couldn't she get her damn fingers to warm up?