Nova Peak None of this is real enough, to take me from you.

grateful that he did or said nothing to spur the abashed gallop of her heart into a froth, phaedra filled her lungs full of breath and released it slowly. regardless, the hot climes behind her ears that tingled and burned her cheeks and gorge lingered a while yet.
fool, fool, fool, the cruel ironsmith of her conscious grafted away at her dignity, angering her. phaedra pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and stared harder at the opal, though she did not regard it so much as gaze while imagining ripping the tongue from her own maw to render herself unable to say stupid things. 
gardenias. "they look like swirly clouds, and smell ..." her lips twisted. how best to explain the scent of a gardenia? sweet but not cloyingly so, strong yet delicate— a doting breath that reminded her of mama's embraces, but also, "when i smell a gardenia id makes me think of how papa looks ad my mama when she's noh looking. or ... how he did when we were all dogether, i'unno. i only found em in the high foreses of home, so." she worried at the dirt with her blunt claw, finding now that her focus had fixed itself the ground rather than the stone. 

while he considered his favorite color, she stole a glance at his face, but blushed and looked away again when his eyes strayed from the skies. winter blue, she was thoughtful for half a heartbeat. that wasn't a color she'd experienced, yet, but now she yearned to see it so that she may enjoy it much as he did.
she'd been lost in her wish and also realized late that her question had been volleyed back. phaedra loved all the colors, but there was no hesitation when it came to her favorite. "the color my mama's eyes." she said, deliberately avoiding the simple answer of yellow to be very specific about the shade.
were it not for wylla's twin sunflowers, she might have blurted rainbow! for the lack of an ability to choose a favorite. 
"i never seen winner blue. or winner. wha's it like? wind— win-ter," she tried to master the word with the laborous flexture of her tongue, scrunching her nose afterwards with aggravation.
then, "bluebells!" phaedra piped up suddenly, but just as quickly realized her folly: "oh, hm. those are pourple. well i think bluebells is a sdupid name for those then," she huffed.