slow down, you're doing fine
Flora takes the way Zavien's voice gentles, the way he lets the subject settle instead of pressing it further, as a clear enough boundary. She does not prod at it. Some grief is not meant for public handling, and she has learned, painfully, when to leave a thing where it lies. The thought of Lena lingers anyway, a quiet weight she files away to ask Soh about later, when the timing will be kinder.
She nods once, decisive. "Whatever Stormbreak needs," Flora says evenly, leaning a little more fully into the cool stone at her back. "If Torchline can help, we will."
The correction catches her attention immediately, her brows lifting as he clarifies, and then the words won’t survive the season land with a force that steals the air from her lungs. Her mouth parts in silent shock, the implications unfolding faster than she would like. Her thoughts leap, unbidden, northward—to her brother first, sharp and instinctive—and she swallows hard, forcibly setting aside the immediate urge to reach for Mateo, to demand reassurance she cannot reasonably ask for in this moment.
She inhales sharply through her nose, steadying herself, and shakes her head slowly. "Gods," Flora murmurs, the word slipping out with unguarded sincerity. "I’m so sorry." Her gaze lifts back to him, clear and unflinching, softened now by genuine sympathy rather than diplomacy. "I know that can’t be easy to carry. Any of it."
She nods once, decisive. "Whatever Stormbreak needs," Flora says evenly, leaning a little more fully into the cool stone at her back. "If Torchline can help, we will."
The correction catches her attention immediately, her brows lifting as he clarifies, and then the words won’t survive the season land with a force that steals the air from her lungs. Her mouth parts in silent shock, the implications unfolding faster than she would like. Her thoughts leap, unbidden, northward—to her brother first, sharp and instinctive—and she swallows hard, forcibly setting aside the immediate urge to reach for Mateo, to demand reassurance she cannot reasonably ask for in this moment.
She inhales sharply through her nose, steadying herself, and shakes her head slowly. "Gods," Flora murmurs, the word slipping out with unguarded sincerity. "I’m so sorry." Her gaze lifts back to him, clear and unflinching, softened now by genuine sympathy rather than diplomacy. "I know that can’t be easy to carry. Any of it."
Flora
you can't be everything you wanna be before your time
