I've always liked the sound of rain. Even if it gets you soaked. Or kills you.
If anything, I'm cautious about bridges by now.
Perhaps unfairly so.
But rain...rain always felt peaceful to me. It used to help me fall asleep as a kid. When I was still Adelaide. When I was still Ophelia, too.
Thick, heavy clouds roll in while we sleep at the tavern. If there was any hope of traveling at night, the impending storm sealed that deal. Lucas was surprisingly well behaved for the sudden delay.
He spent the afternoon buying supplies and the evening hobnobbing in the tavern, and wisely left me alone.
In the morning, the storm finally decided to unleash, as if making fun of my attempt to sleep through it.
It's only raining now, but it's one of those slow, lazy storms with fat drops that seem to endlessly pour water, so I've got my hood drawn and the fabric wound tight to keep it closed around my head.
