J
Jabonicus
In the mid-afternoon the sky had closed itself with a layer of compacted and disagreeable clouds, which came in like a wave and blotted out of the light of the sky. Though the day had been cloudy, the anger and darkness of the sky had not come to pass until it washed over the area like a torrent. In the following moments the sky gave only the briefest warning, minutes as the cool and crisp air became soggy and heavy with the humidity that would drag it all down. Then, all it in instant, the sky came crashing down, a quick escalation from the first drops to a downpour that that threatened all the senses with its intensity. To the flesh was discomfort of heavy pellets of water carelessly pounding its victims, to the ears was the incessant and tempo-less drumming of the rain hitting the world, to the ears the horizon grew closer, and the gray wall that the water formed shut the world off.
To call it a park was a vague description, an excess of open grass and trees centered around a pound, one that supposedly ran deep into a cavern more treacherous than it appeared to be. That did little to stop swimmers, but with the torrential downfall no one dared to disturb the surface aside from the fury of the sky. Small stone pathways scattered themselves across the grass of the park, and alongside them often were small pavilions, wooden structures with open walls, often closed only by a roof and a small fence of which benches lined the edges. Some were connected, and mainly focused themselves alongside the pond. While rustic and often unused in the busy days that the place saw, they found use today.
Shelter.
Eve had brought an umbrella but with the downfall and its intensity she found it too uncomfortable to tread out for home. She could have someone come get her if she truly needed to leave if the rain did not let up, but she had grown patient of such things, keeping such items as braille books in her bag, kept safe by the sealed latch. She would be stricken if her books became ruined as a result of the weather, and she did not trust in her umbrella enough to give it the chance. So for the time she sat patiently in the pavilion, connected by roofed walkways from one to the other as she read a borrowed book, her fingers lightly touching across the pages. It was an enjoyable book, and despite how it limited where she could go for a time, Eve truly smiled at the weather.
Perhaps it was the touch of wetness to the air, the closed in atmosphere that such pressure caused, or simply the soothing noise of the rain tapping against the roof, but she found that rain was a pleasure, and it was a pleasure to be its prisoner.
To call it a park was a vague description, an excess of open grass and trees centered around a pound, one that supposedly ran deep into a cavern more treacherous than it appeared to be. That did little to stop swimmers, but with the torrential downfall no one dared to disturb the surface aside from the fury of the sky. Small stone pathways scattered themselves across the grass of the park, and alongside them often were small pavilions, wooden structures with open walls, often closed only by a roof and a small fence of which benches lined the edges. Some were connected, and mainly focused themselves alongside the pond. While rustic and often unused in the busy days that the place saw, they found use today.
Shelter.
Eve had brought an umbrella but with the downfall and its intensity she found it too uncomfortable to tread out for home. She could have someone come get her if she truly needed to leave if the rain did not let up, but she had grown patient of such things, keeping such items as braille books in her bag, kept safe by the sealed latch. She would be stricken if her books became ruined as a result of the weather, and she did not trust in her umbrella enough to give it the chance. So for the time she sat patiently in the pavilion, connected by roofed walkways from one to the other as she read a borrowed book, her fingers lightly touching across the pages. It was an enjoyable book, and despite how it limited where she could go for a time, Eve truly smiled at the weather.
Perhaps it was the touch of wetness to the air, the closed in atmosphere that such pressure caused, or simply the soothing noise of the rain tapping against the roof, but she found that rain was a pleasure, and it was a pleasure to be its prisoner.