The rain pounded relentlessly against the windscreen of the vehicle parked a few feet away from him, creating a mesmerising symphony of pattering droplets in the silent night. The air was thick with the scent of petrichor, that earthy aroma that accompanies the first drops of rain after a dry spell. It was a familiar scent, normally comforting, yet in this moment it only served to heighten the sense of cluelessness and helplessness he was currently feeling.
Luciano shielded his face, his clothes soaked through from the water running in rivulets down his arms as he stood there, the chilly downpour seeping into his bones. His gaze remained fixed on the vehicle where the mortal sat, sheltered from the storm.
Giovanni sat motionless, his features obscured by the hazy reflection on the rain-streaked glass.
