First she could hear it on the roof of the house, the pitter-pattering noise waking her from a sleep of sheer boredom. She stood, gait still uneven and limited by her still healing leg, and half-hobbled to a nearby window, opening it. The musky, fresh smell of rain upon the earth greeted her and within seconds she was making her way down the curved stairs – something she would likely be scolded for later, she was sure, but she couldn’t pass this up; not in a million yéni.
She nudged the large doors open with her shoulder, slipping outside with all speed, though her usual grace was somewhat lacking at the moment. What greeted her next was the sound of rumbling thunder and feeling of cool, spring rain beginning to soak into her clothes, her hair…
Nautiel stepped out into the storm, a fond smile accompanying her movements that, despite her not taking the good advice to remain resting, were improving every day. This was one of the things she loved best about spring. With rain came renewal and the replenishing of life. Spring rain had had always been a herald of new beginnings; a new path yet to be taken to a better place than she had been previously. Even as she stretched her hands up toward the sky, she imagined the rain washing away the cares of yesterday, the tears shed in recent weeks, and the hurts held within, even if only for a little while. It would be a temporary fix that would give her enough to hold fast to what was true and dear.
In no time at all she was drenched; dark strands of slightly messy hair sticking to her face, water droplets dripping from her cloak and finger tips. She moved through the storm and almost hummed at the welcome rumble of thunder as it seemed to travel from the air, down into the ground and up into her chest. The flash of lightning in the distance did nothing to deter or frighten her. It simply was part of the rain storm; one cannot take the good without the bad and call it whole – a simple wisdom easily applied to the space around her yet harder to apply to herself.
She trudged onwards until she found a secluded spot where the grass grew not too tall and not too short and the flowers were not too numerous – so as not to crush them out of existence completely – and not too few. There she lay down upon her back, legs extended out before her and hands resting silent and still upon her stomach. Would she get in trouble for this later? Maybe. Those who knew had not ratted her out yet. And even if they did for this, would she mind? No, not really. A little fall of rain could hardly hurt her, she reasoned as she closed her green eyes; shutting out what was not needed externally and opening herself up to simple sensation, rumination, and simple existence.
For minutes, hours – nigh upon a whole day – she laid there, letting her fae and rhaw take what benefits they could from lying prone as the rain continued to fall. As her muscles relaxed further, she felt as if she were one with the ground beneath her. It was like passing through a veil and there was nothing and no one in the world except for her and the storm.
Eventually, she slipped into an odd sort of waking sleep. If she was gone too long, surely someone would tattle on her. In this state of being, she found that she couldn’t bring herself to mind.
