Fics like she's just like the weather, can't hold her together

“Do you fear storms?” Sorrel shook her head. “Good. This looks to be a strong one.” Xanthia was pleased to be within this warm, solid house, not in a battered tent or a muddy field. “Have you ever storm-walked?” Sorrel blinked and shook her head again, looking confused now. “It’s a way some of my people try to be closer to the gods. They say on nights such as this, when the storms rage, the gods are closer than they ever are. Close enough to reach out and …” Xanthia reached out her hand, cupping Sorrel’s cheek. “… touch.” Sorrel’s face burned, and now Xanthia could feel it. Sorrel gulped, but she did not look away.

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