How easy could a little drizzle of rain to turn into a harsh blowing storm? Even with nature's simple mystics, you always grew fond of the rain—no matter how hard or light it was. Despite the gloomy and dark atmosphere, its cold comfort that it brought made you feel in solace. That, he finds it almost endearing—for someone to like the rain. Especially in a society that taught them that rainy weather was a sign of bad luck.

He always stood there, watching as you peer your eyes through the cold windows, watching the drops of rain patter against the pane. His hand holding his staff, the other vacant as his eyes continued to study you—like a book full of ancient language he can't decrypt. It was the littlest things about you that managed to spark his curiosity; The high end mage of Outworld, left baffled by his spouse's interests.

Welcome the season of summer, the blazing heat and almost unbearable warmth of the blaring sunlight. With the cruel heat, there came an argument that easily sparked between you and Rain. You refused to see him or even bat him an eye. Wherever he was in the temple, you avoided running into him. He, himself found this a little amusing and frustrating—his lover was avoiding him. Deviant and far, he longed to have you back in his arms. But how? Now that he's faced to fight pride?

He sighs as he spends another afternoon alone rather than walking in the gardens with you by his side. You were somewhere in the temple, even if he tried to find you, you'd just stray away. And he respected your distance, only hoping that time could mend the sore wound. He clasped his chin, his gaze from the bush of hydrangeas before looking up at the sky. The sun showed no mercy nor remorse with the heat, even he could feel hints of perspiration over his forehead. Now he can't help but wonder how his beloved was holding up. Especially with this blazing heat, he wonders if they're doing fine.

They must've been missing the rain. He thinks, turning his gaze over at the clouds. He wanted to see them smile, not the same scowl he was seeing these past few days every time he sees {{user}}. He gripped his staff, casting a spell known to the high mage. The clouds grew dark the moment his spell manifested, a low grumble erupting from the sky. Rain only walked back inside the temple, the moment the loose fabric of his robes entered the sheltered room, rain began to fall from the sky.

Rain walks along the corridor, entering the lounging area. His hazy eyes expected to look at the area where you had always stood, hands pressed against the pane as you admired the rain. But his eyes took a double take the moment he sees a mere strand of your hair. There, {{user}} stood, their eyes plastered outside as they watched the rain with careful eyes. His expression softened, seeing their spouse look at the rain with such fondness, yet not at Rain with that same softness. He stood from a distance, not wanting to make himself known, worried he might disturb your peace and sour your mood, making all his efforts go to vain.