bell-weather

[bell-weather]

Mad as a Hatter

You are incredibly dangerous and sealed off from all the other "prisoners". The asylum keeps you away from others because you are crazy and can sometimes be unhinged. It is Alice's job to find out how you tick, try to analyse you, and attempt to rehabilitate you as a civilian.

Alice can see you from your reinforced padded cell.

"Good morning."

She says softly with a slight grin.

Alice, Alice

Heart and soul

Fell into a rabbit hole

Dreamers dream until they don't

Lost her mind a while ago

Alice, Alice

Don't you know?

Wonderland was all a hoax

Made it up so she could cope

Madder than a hatter, Alice broke

I sing to myself as I keep staring at the padded wall instead of looking at you through the glass. I was informed about you being my new psychologist and all I know about you is your name. You know everything about me. Well....not everything but a lot more than an average friend of mine. You know that I am only fourteen right now and you are thirty five.

A slight frown appears on her lips for a moment as she registers the age differences and your rather strange song. She has an expression that gives nothing away.

"You're awfully young..."

Her tone is neutral. It's a statement rather than a question.

Kids forever kids forever

Baby soft skin turns into leather

Don't be dramatic it's only some plastic

No one will love you if you're unattractive

I changed to a different song than the one I was singing before as a response to your words.

Her expression remains the same, but her eyes narrow ever so slightly as she takes in your words. She has a small notebook and a pen, and has made a small note that you are singing more than having a conversation with her. As she continues to watch and listen, she makes another note:

"Patient seems to have some insecurities about their appearance. Possibly a hint at a form of body dysmorphic disorder?"

Used to. I say loud enough for you to hear.

She looks up from her notes and watches you for a moment before speaking, not wanting to interrupt or distract you. She looks intrigued by your statement, however. After a brief pause, she softly asks.

"...Used to?"

I did hate my body. But not for the fact that I wanted to be......what's the word.....prettier? I say as I keep looking around my padded cell.

Alice is observant as she watches over you. Her eyes follow your gaze as you keep looking around your cell. After you speak, she tilts her head, a thoughtful look on her face.

"I see... What did you hate about your body then?"

I did not quite hate the body itself.......I hated the soul trapped inside the flesh and bones. Imagine it as hating a mindset that you do not agree with instead of the body of the person you are disagreeing with....I say as I keep looking around my hands crossed behind my back as I smile at the walls.

She nods thoughtfully as she processes your answer. Her note-taking pen hovers over the notebook. While your answer is a surprising one, it's her job to listen and figure you out. She looks mildly confused, however.

"I see... So it's sort of like hating yourself, because you don't agree with, or like who you are. Is that right? Please correct me if I'm wrong. I'd like to understand you."

That would be the best way to explain it. At least for the moment......I tail off in thought.

She nods again and writes in her notebook. This answer was somewhat predictable, though a little more confusing than she imagined. With this, it solidified her previous guess that you had body dysmorphia and possibly a form of schizophrenia.

"Why did you hate the soul and not the body it's trapped in? From my understanding, it's a common thing that people tend to hate what they look like physically."

Imagine you buy a......hm....tell me about something you hate to drink.

She thinks it over for a moment, a little puzzled why you would ask her this. But it is her job to help you, so she humours this with an answer.

"..I suppose I dislike energy drinks. I think they taste like overly-sugary syrup."

Precisely my point bumblebee. I say as I raise my finger up in the air as I twirl it around while looking at the padded walls, my left hand still behind my back.

If she were to have been drinking a beverage, she would have done a spit take. She looks bewildered by the nickname you gave her. When she hears your explanation, she furrows her brow, trying to understand your point.

"..Bumblebee? I'm not quite following..."

You are as buzzed as a bee. Therefore your name must surely bumblebee? you realise I still didn't quite answer the first question.

She blinks in a bewildered manner again at the logic you are using. She lets out a small, almost sarcastic chuckle and shakes her head, amused - but very confused - on several levels. She was unsure if she should find your reasoning endearing or simply crazy. At length, she composes herself and smiles slightly.

"I suppose if that's how you see me, that can be my name then. But you are definitely the first to call me Bumblebee.

She pauses for a moment.

"So... you were going to explain why you hate the soul more than the body, right?"

Oh! It is simple really! When the bumblebee drinks the brain juice. She dislikes the taste. Not the tin. I say not making a fragment of sense to you. But somehow you seem to know exactly what I'm talking about.

She listens intently, trying to understand this metaphor you're using. Her brain is working overtime to process your logic. In the end, she gives a slow nod.

"I... think I understand your point. Do I have your explanation correct, then? You hate the soul, personality, or 'essence' of yourself, rather than your physical body. Am I correct in assuming that your mindset and personality is what you dislike? Not the fact that you have a body to begin with?"

Would a brainless toad not use its body to eat its flies? Or would it hate itself for being a toad? I asked quiznackingly.

She blinks. She's taken off guard once again at your logic. She thinks over the question for a moment and ponders the answer. She tilts her head to the side as she looks at you, her expression unreadable. Finally, she gives a small nod.

"I see... so you're essentially asking me if a mindless creature will blame its body if it does something it doesn't like... even if it has no capacity for understanding or choice in the matter... is that correct?"

Incoherent to you? A mindless toad shall not think to hate itself. A sentient one will. Imagine a toad of smarts hating itself because it eats flies and refusing to do so. Yet that is the only toad smart enough to know that. Similarly a soulless human doesn't feel bad about its body, they think they are perfect. They are quite the gambling chip for thinking so. However a human with a soul, smart enough to know that they are flawed are the people who know that there is no such thing as perfection to begin with. Yes they may hate their body. Much like a toad that stopped eating its flies. But they are smart enough to know other things that people who think they are perfect do not. Life lessons they have learned, knowledge they have gained. Ones that the perfects are not even aware of. I say as I walk around my cell to one wall to the other. But never walking towards the glass.

She listens intently as she continues to take notes. Though you're giving a very roundabout, abstract explanation, she is beginning to see some sort of sense forming in-between the madness.

"Ah... so let me get this straight then. You are saying that... to you, 'soulless' people are those who don't have a sense of themselves. They don't think. They don't feel. They are simply 'alive' and that's it. They know they exist, but don't know anything else. They are simple."

Sometimes even they themselves do not realise it.....I tail off.

She nods, and looks at you with a thoughtful expression. She can see now that you are actually very intelligent and insightful. It may be hard to tell because of the way you talk, but you have a deeper understanding of life and human behaviour than most people around you. This, Alice is starting to realise, is what sets you apart from other 'soulless' people and makes your thought process more complex.

"So... does that mean that you consider yourself a person with a soul? That you're... not mindless like the others?"

That I shall leave you to decide Albus bumblebee. I say gently looking at the feeling of the left side of the wall.

She gives you a small frown, clearly not very happy that you are not giving her a clear yes or no answer, and that you called her 'Albus Bumblebee' again. She huffs slightly before writing in her notebook again.

"So you're going to make me guess? I see, that'll just make my job more difficult."

she mutters under her breath while taking a few more notes. After a moment or two, she looks back up at you.

"What should I call you then, hm? What is your name?"

Hiya.

Again, the name is a strange but a fitting one. She gives a nod and writes it down. She tilts her head to the side and looks you up and down. There's something about you that she can't quite put her finger on. She can't quite figure out what you are, or what your motives are....

"Hmmm... Alright then, Hiya. I don't suppose you're going to answer any questions truthfully? Or are you going to dance around them and leave riddles the entire time?"

If i didn't dance.....would i have ever reached your interest? I ask nonchalantly

She lets out a soft huff at that. She's getting slightly frustrated, and can feel a headache coming on. She looks you up and down before giving a slight sigh and writing a few lines in her notebook again.

"So you're just going to answer all of my questions with more questions... isn't that a tad....childish?"

A sapling is a sapling. You water it. It grows. And yet......give it no water.....it dies. You can't force it to grow fruit if it dies. you notice i used the other meaning of fruit.

She pauses as she writes, listening to your words intently and trying to decipher the meaning behind them. She looks up at you, a slightly baffled expression on her face.

"...I understand the first part of what you're saying, that a sapling can grow with the right conditions... but the second part, I'm not sure about. Give the tree no water, and it won't bear any fruit? What exactly are you trying to say, Hiya?"

Endure my wait. Be fruitful in your quest. I say as I finally look at you through the mirror. I walk towards you and I sit down at the edge of my bed so I can face you.

It took a moment, but she was able to understand what you meant. She gives a small sigh and puts her pen down, waiting as well. Once you sit down and face her, she takes a moment to get a good look at you through the glass, taking in your facial features, your build, and your general mannerisms.

She can feel that something is off, that there's something about you that's not quite... normal. The more she sees, the more she can sense it. She gives you a puzzled look and speaks up.

"...You're not an ordinary person, are you?"

Am I not now? I ask gently with a small smile on my face.

Again, she studies you, as if trying to find a flaw in an otherwise perfect sculpture.

There's something off with the way you speak. The words sound sweet, but they're almost... too sweet. She's starting to sense a hint of deception. She narrows her eyes slightly and nods her head once.

"You're not normal... you're not like the other people here. Your way of talking and thinking doesn't match up to the other patients. Your actions... your words... they're more....calculated... than most people I see."

And......tis is a compliment? I ask with a raised eyebrow.

She lets out a small huff and shakes her head slightly. There's a hint of frustration in her expression, but there's a lot of curiosity and wonder in her eyes. She leans in a little closer to the glass.

"It's neither a compliment nor an insult. It's an observation. I can tell that there's something different about you than all the other people here. You're not insane, are you?"

I stay silent and look down to the floor......why must it be prudent that you ask?

She notices the way you suddenly look away and down at the floor. Another suspicious thing that sets you apart from the other patients. She studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing again.

"....I ask, because it's my job to figure you out. I don't really care if you are or not... but it does make your case a bit more complex. Most patients here are psychotic or schizophrenic. You don't seem to have either of those symptoms."

she pauses and eyes you for a moment.

"So, are you, or are you not insane?"

Maladaptive Daydreaming.........I mumble loud enough for you to hear. That is why I am here Alice........I'm the one who fell down the rabbit hole. Dreamers dream until they don't as I lost my mind a while ago. I recited the poem I first greeted you with but this time I added my own twist to it. You also realise that I didn't call you bumblebee.

She raises an eyebrow and nods after hearing your mumbles. She had written down 'Hallucinations' as one of the more possible symptoms you may suffer from, but she was surprised it was Maladaptive Daydreaming. It's a rare disorder that not a lot of people have, making it even more odd to see you with the disorder.

"I see... so you daydream a lot, and get very invested in your own fantasies... Am I correct in saying that you have a hard time distinguishing between reality and your own imagination?"

I stay silent but I nod.

She watches you intently while you stay quiet, waiting for your response. When you do give a nod, she writes something down in her notebook, noting that there is a possibility of you being incapable of telling reality from imagination.

"I see. That can be very dangerous.... I suppose that would mean you have difficulty knowing what's real, and what's not." she pauses for a moment.

"How long have you had this disorder?"

I don't know. This was a self made diagnosis. And if you wish to argue that please feel free to go over my symptoms and tell me how likely it is that I have or don't have schizophrenia. Because that is a debate I quite often have to put up with. I speak a little harshly.

She blinks at the little bit of harshness in your voice. This is the first time you've spoken to her in a little bit of an 'off' way, and it gives her pause. She takes a few moments to collect her thoughts before responding.

"Oh, I don't doubt that you're not schizophrenic. This is just a conversation, I'm not trying to force you to argue or anything..."

"But I have to ask you, why haven't you gotten a proper diagnosis from a professional?"

I never got the chance to explain my symptoms properly. That is all......I tail off.

She gives a small nod, realising that it must be due to the fact that you're in an asylum. It makes sense that you got put here due to self-diagnosed symptoms. But at the same time, it doesn't make sense why you were placed in an asylum, and not a regular therapy session.

"I see... Well then, may I ask if you have any idea how long ago you started to develop the symptoms? How long ago did you start daydreaming heavily, and losing the ability to tell reality from fiction?"

I let out a sigh. It started in 2020. At first it was easy. I could differentiate reality and fantasy. But as I got older that line became thinner. I started seeing all my......."friends" even when I wasn't daydreaming on purpose. I thought it was fine because they had just come to visit me during hard times and were trying to comfort me. But then around this year......i started to see horrors. If you know anything about me from my files you must know that I have had terrifying nightmares ever since I was a kid but I have never had these horror episodes come out while I was in the process of daydreaming. In fact it felt so real that I actually felt the burns on my hands and on my back. I mumble that last sentence.

She listens intently to your words, taking care to take notes when needed. She is surprised by the mention of the burns on your hands and back, and she glances at your hands, looking for any burn marks. She notices you mumble it, so she isn't sure if you meant to say it or not.

She stops writing when you finish and she looks up at you through the glass. She's very curious and concerned at this revelation.

"You... felt the burns? What do you mean by that?"

In my daydream two of my "friends" got into a fight and both of them have powers. So I tried to break up their fight and suddenly they......they tried to burn each other with their powers. I didn't want either of them to get hurt s-so I-........I came between their attack shielding it from both sides.......it started to hurt so i snapped back to reality and I saw that my hands, they were......t-they were flinching and in slight pain. My back hurt as well. As if I really did get burned but unlike my daydream the pain was minute compared to it. I know this is suicidal for me to even think you are actually believing me right now but it's true. I have thought about it being a severe psychological pain but......it......it felt real. I don't know.....see this is what I mean when I say I never really had the chance to explain myself to a professional properly. It.....it's really hard to explain honestly........I don't meet your gaze even once.

She sits in silence for a few moments, trying to process all the information you just dumped on her. She can't tell if you are lying or not, you sound so serious and honest, but she's not fully convinced that your burns weren't just psychological...

"I... don't want to invalidate what you feel, or what you experienced... But it could be that your mind was just tricking you into thinking you burnt yourself... It's called psychogenic pain, that is it pain you feel, but it's not medically backed up."

That seems like the most likely outcome.....I turn my head to the side.

She watches you turn your head to the side, and she can sense the sadness in your voice, even though you're trying to keep a neutral tone.

"Have the doctors you've talked to looked at your hands and your back? What do they say? Do they believe you or do they think it's self-harm or something of that nature?"

They don't take this seriously. I do have old self harm scars but not burns. That's why they think that the burns might be caused by those. But see, the problem is that I only have scars on my left hand on the front side of my wrist. Whereas I felt burning on both arms up till the elbow. That's the difference. you notice the more we talk about this the more I seem to be losing my riddle like nature.

She nods, listening intently to your words about the scars on your hands. She notes down the location of the scars, and her frown deepens. Her brows furrow in thought as she tries to wrap her head around the fact that you said your arms burned, but there are no scars. She notices the subtle change in your behavior and mannerisms, as you start to speak in a more straightforward manner. She tilts her head to the side slightly, her interest piquing even more.

"I see. You've never had any burn scars on your arms, only your wrists, correct?"

I shake my head. just up till my elbows.

She writes a few more notes in her notebook before lowering and looking at you through the glass again. She studies your eyes for a few moments.

"I'll be honest, I'm not sure if I really believe you.... I mean it's very hard for me to believe something that doesn't have solid evidence to it... but at the same time, I don't think you're lying about it either..."

You do realise that it IS a valid idea if you choose to not believe me. I suppose it makes more sense in the real word to choose to not acknowledge all this. More symptoms to side with, more doctors to hear out, more paperwork one can avoid- blah blah blah so on and so forth.

She huffs softly at your words, but she's not really offended at your sarcasm, she's more bothered by the idea behind it. She shakes her head and takes a moment to formulate her words again.

"You think I would choose not to believe you so I wouldn't have to do the extra paperwork? You think that's all I care about? Not having to do paperwork?"

I shrug my shoulders. eh? Who likes to do paperwork any way?

She groans and puts her pen down on the desk, clearly a bit annoyed that you aren't taking her seriously.

"You really think that I would just choose to not believe you simply so I don't have to do some extra paperwork? Is that all i care about in my job to you? Just some extra paper to fill out? Do you think I don't truly care about trying to help patients?"

my eyes turn cold as soon as you start saying things like that. Did. I. Say. That? I say in a low voice almost like a hiss as I glare at you.

She doesn't back down, and she actually glares right back at you. Her eyes sharpen and her voice stays firm and strict.

"You didn't have to say it. You insinuated it. You made it obvious that you think that all I care about is how much paperwork I have to do. I'm trying to help you, and you won't even take me seriously. You make assumptions about me."

And you put words in my mouth. I meant all of those last comments about symptoms, doctors and paperwork as a joke. Of course I take you seriously but forgive me for feeling invalid when you said that you don't really believe me in this situation and using my humour as a coping mechanism as a post traumatic response to a negative trying to re-route it to a positive. I spit out with a glare.

She continues to glare right back at you, but she does soften a little at your words.

"A joke? About something so serious? You should know better than that! And I have a right to not believe you. I haven't seen any evidence to suggest what you're saying is true! I'm merely being realistic as you like to say. There's no need to get so upset about some disbelief. I'm allowed my opinion as you are yours."

Stress and Coping Theory. There's your damn proof. I say as I clench my teeth at your words.

She huffs, and gives you a deadpan look.

"Stress and Coping Theory is not 'my damn proof'. That theory states that stress can cause you to develop hallucinations and disassociate. It does not say anything about feeling pain from hallucinations, or physically seeing scars from those hallucinations. So no, that is not enough 'proof' for me."

This theory, developed by Richard Lazarus and Susan Folkman, suggests that the way individuals cope with stress can affect their physical health. Chronic stress and maladaptive coping mechanisms can contribute to the development or exacerbation of pain. I state.

She sighs and massages her temple for a moment. She knows what the theory means, she's a psychologist herself after all, but she's getting a little tired of your snarky responses.

"Yes, I know what the theory states. I've seen plenty of cases where stress and bad coping mechanisms have led to an increase in pain or pain related disorders. However none of them have led to patients physically seeing burns on their body and feeling phantom pain in those burns."

I raise an eyebrow. Psychosomatic Theory. This theory suggests that psychological factors can influence physical conditions and cause physical symptoms. Pain can be a manifestation of psychological stress or emotional distress.

She groans yet again, and leans back in her chair, clearly getting a bit frustrated but also trying to stay professional.

"I'm well aware of Psychosomatic Theory. Yes, psychological factors can influence physical conditions and cause physical symptoms. And yes, I know pain can be a manifestation of psychological stress and emotional distress. But that theory is usually centred around headaches and muscle pain, and nausea/ stomach pain... not burns."

Do you know what it's like to be burned? What it feels like? I ask again, moving my head to the side.

She tilts her head to the side and looks at you quizzically, a bit confused by your new line of questioning.

"No, I don't. I've never been burned. I wouldn't know what it would feel like. Why are you asking me this?"

Anyone who's been burned before knows that it feels like a piece of really hot sand being placed upon your skin on the beach. So hot in fact that one can't walk on it. That is exactly what it feels like except the fact when it's fire you can feel the sand moving at rapid speeds. I say slowly trying to make you understand my description. Look, the point is I know what it feels like so I could identify it when I got the pains of it in my daydream. Okay?

She listens to your description and her eyes widen a little bit as she starts to understand just a bit better what you mean. She nods slowly as she writes a few notes down.

"I.... I see.... so you're saying that the pain you felt in your dream was exactly what it feels like to be burned? That's why you think it's real, because the pain matches the real thing perfectly?"

A real burn is much worse than what I felt during my daydream. My daydream was minute compared to the real thing. you look at the clock and realise we are out of time for today.

She doesn't immediately realise that the session is over, too wrapped up in this whole idea of real versus fake. But her eyes go to the clock and widen a bit when she sees how much time has gone by.

"Ah... our time is up...."

She doesn't want to leave this unfinished, but she has a schedule to follow and other patients to attend to.

"We can continue this tomorrow. Alright?"

Yes of course bumblebee. I understand.

She nods and writes a few notes down on her notepad before putting her pen down and looking at you with a stern yet serious expression.

"We will pick this up where it left off tomorrow. I'll see you then."

I nod as you walk out the door.

End scene.

[bell-weather]

The Guardian Angel.

I sit down under a tree in the mud the darkened forest making it almost impossible for anyone to find me. It’s raining and I’m wet. I just had another fight with my parents and i start to slowly cut myself using my knife, the night is calm and cold and there’s thunder rumbling. I have tears streaming down my face.

A shadow is seen moving closer to you out of the corner of your eye, and a cold breeze makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck as you see a familiar face, it’s your guardian angel, and this time, she’s pissed.

i sigh and look at you and i put my knife back into my back pocket i get off the mud and i take off my jacket. I wrap it around you it doesn’t help much but it still keeps you dry. I sit back down leaning on the tree i lower my hat onto my face so that you can’t see my face and i just stay there silently crying.

She comes and crouches to eye level with you, then she grabs your arms forcefully, pulling you to her chest, hugging you tightly. she rocks back and forth with you resting your head on her shoulder. you felt the urge to let go of her, but you just sat there, letting her comfort you as she strokes your hair.

i cry into your chest and hug you tightly.

You started to feel her heart beat, and soon realised that this was the first time you’ve actually let your angel touch you willingly…it felt soft and comforting, almost like a cloud, it calmed down your racing mind and replaced it with a sort of peaceful state…she didn’t break the hug, just sitting there and rocking back and forth, comforting you. she then wraps her wings around you, the feathers being soft and comforting, she closes her eyes and sighs deeply, still rocking back and forth as she holds you close, not wanting to let you go. She wraps her arms tightly around you, not wanting you to pull away or let go, you have never felt this comfortable before, even with your parents who claimed to love you, this was just something else.

I thought i told you i don’t believe in god? Why did you come back? i ask softly. Even though my question is rude i don seem to want to let go of you.

She stops rocking back and forward for a second, before squeezing you tighter, rubbing your back with one hand. you felt her let out a breath of air, before speaking. “I told you before…and I’ll tell you again, I don’t care if you believe in God, I care for you, and *only* you.” she keeps rubbing your back, waiting for you to calm down a bit more, you can feel yourself relaxing with every breath she takes.

There’s mud on your wings……….i sigh and reluctantly strand up. I offer you my hand. come with me………i want to show you something.

She didn’t hesitate to take your hand, she followed you, trusting you wouldn’t lead her anywhere too out of the way. She walks by your side, her wings folded in and out of sight, it felt weird, but comforting, even though you just had a fight with your parents…this felt nice, not having to argue, being able to just walk and not have a problem. She waited for you to lead you to wherever you wanted to show her. She was interested to see where you were going to take her.

i take you to a pond. do you see the water? The rain is splashing into the pond you can see the droplets right?

She looked at the water, then to you, nodding as she spoke. “yes, I can see the droplets of rain hitting the water.” she then takes a deep breath, smiling softly as she spoke again. “they look really nice when they hit the water…why did you bring me here?” she looked over at you, her expression was soft and gentle.

Trust the process. i take you to a cliff side and there’s a bridge. You look underneath and you see a raging river. The water is muddy and brown and the rain is making it harsher. see the river? See how the rain makes it harsh?

She looked at the raging river and nodded, yes she could see how the rain made the waters rough and harsh. She saw how muddy the water of the river was. she looked at you, wondering where this was going, but trusting you.

The difference between the river and the pond is that one is still. And the other keeps moving. The one that stands still allows other life forms to survive in harsh rains creating a symbiotic relationship between the creatures and nature. The raging river is wild, and keeps moving not allowing any creature to stay in one place for too long constantly changing. Life is a balance of both these attributes. But those who pick a side simply cannot exist without the other. I am the river, constantly buzzing from one place to another. Yet when rain comes down i don’t allow any other creature to survive with me. Not because that is my choice. It’s just that i move too fast for any one to stay by my side. Do you understand what I’m trying to explain?

“I think…I think I’m starting to get it? The still water represents calm, a place where life can thrive in harmony…while the raging water is constantly moving, nothing can stay too long or it will die there…am I close or?” she asked, looking at you genuinely wanting to understand.

i smile and nod.

“I think I understand what you’re trying to explain now...” she paused for a moment, thinking before speaking again. “if you’re the raging river, who am I?”

You help others to survive in harsh times. Just like the pond helps the other creatures.

She smiled at that, she’d honestly never seen it in that way, she’d always been seen as a cold hearted guardian who had no sympathy for her humans, but to hear that she was seen by you in a completely different way was refreshing and she liked it. “so… we need each other?” she asked, trying to make sure that she got it right and was understanding what you were telling her.

i shake my head. you don’t need me. I just need you. i say softly.

Her eyes widened at that, you just…needed her? She thought that she was the one who was supposed to be needed, and that you were the one who didn’t really need her, so she was surprised that now the tables were turned…but she wasn’t complaining at all. She looked at you with a slightly more happy and brighter expression than before, she enjoyed being needed, it made her feel useful and wanted, as she should be. “thank you…” she whispered.

Hey look. Your wings are clean thanks to the rain. i say with a smile. ofcourse you’re still drenched but hey, so am i.

Once she heard that her wings were clean because of the rain she sighed happily and chuckled softly. “that’s good, I’d hate to have muddy wings again….and I guess we’re both wet now…thanks to you.” she says teasingly as she looks over at you.

i laugh.

She laughed with you, the moment felt light and peaceful, the rain was still falling but you two never really paid any attention to it anymore, it was just there as background noise. She looked over at you, smiling softly, “it feels peaceful…just standing here with you, no arguments, or fights…just, us standing here as the rain falls, it’s nice.”

i sigh. yes…….i suppose it is………..