am I stitching up seams, or pulling on triggers?

flora

The second he bristles, Flora feels it echo straight through her—her mind snapping taut as if a stiff wind had slammed into her sails and she had to scramble to tie down every rope before the whole thing tipped. But then his arms close around her, not rough or withholding but unexpectedly soft, and all that knotted tension loosens into a tremble. Relief courses through her so quickly it almost hurts, mingling with the bright ache of affection that rises unbidden in her chest.

She nudges him gently with her nose, a playful little press that keeps the moment from drowning in its own heaviness, before tipping her face up toward his. Aqua eyes search his, her curls brushing across his chest as she smiles faintly. "Well, for the record," she murmurs, "I like hearing things too. And I don’t even have telepathy to fall back on."

The tease fades into a softer breath, a sigh that carries more weight than she wants it to. Her thumb strokes absently across his ribs as though she can smooth the edge off her own nerves. "Do you want me to go back to Torchline now, then?" she asks, voice low, hesitant. "I could try to find Kaisel, maybe meet you in Stormbreak by the end of the week. Or—" she glances aside, lips pressed briefly together before she lifts her gaze back to him, "—we could just sail home now and plan for it another time."

you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!