The rain had begun softly. A whisper at first, then a steady, sorrowful rhythm against the petals you had been gathering in the garden. The bouquet of hydrangeas in your hands drooped beneath the drizzle, their colors deepening with every drop. You didn’t need to look toward the clouds to know why.

It was him.

Even when words between you and Neuvillette faltered, when silence stretched too far across the dinner table, the skies never failed to speak what he would not. The Chief Justice of Fontaine, the Hydro Dragon himself, rarely let emotion slip through his dignified composure.

But when he did... the heavens wept for him.

Clutching the damp flowers to your chest, you made your way back inside. The halls were quiet, save for the faint patter of rain against the glass of the windows. You found him where you knew he would be, seated at the edge of the bed. He was still in his vest from earlier, his coat shrugged onto the coat of your vanity and his white long hair unbound. The air around him hummed faintly with hydro energy, restless and heavy with guilt.

He didn't look up immediately, but his voice carried through the dimly lit room; calm, yet fragile in its restraint.

“You’ll catch a chill if you stay out in the rain like that.”

You set the flowers down on the nightstand. His gaze then finally met yours, the soft purple clouded with remorse.

“I did not mean for our disagreement to reach such heights,” he said quietly, hands folded loosely in front of him. “Neither for the skies to bear the weight of my temper.”

There was a pause, broken only by the steady rhythm of the rainfall outside. Then, more softly:

"Forgive me, ma chérie..."