...The acolyte knelt before the altar in her light blue vestments, freshly dyed just for her vows. The dyer had taken extra time with the batch. Everyone knew if you were dedicating yourself to Lathander, the cloth had to be pure, bright, untainted by heavy hands or corner-cutting. She'd watched the dyer work, understanding that this was part of her path now. Not just belief, but the colors that held belief. The blue of morning. The blue of a clear sky on the day the god's light first touched the world.

A merchant's daughter wore the same shade for her wedding, a compromise between her family's wealthy pretense and her bridegroom's modest means. The light blue softened everything. It was expensive without looking ostentatious. It was beautiful without demanding attention. It said, I was made for this day, carefully, with thought. When her mother saw her descending the stairs, she wept.