Courtyard, Garden.
Seconoria.
************
Theodore stood vigil in a shadowed corner of the grand courtyard, his posture rigid, ever alert, Freya was inside. He believed his role that required unwavering dedication. The rain had begun as a soft drizzle, but now it pounded down in earnest, a relentless torrent that soaked the earth and filled the air with its rhythmic drumming.
The sky was a dark, churning mass of clouds, and the scent of rain mingled with the fragrance of the garden's blossoms.
As though called by the rain, Freya came out slowly, her head peeked left and rught before she rushed right into the rain surprising Theodore who's eyes widened and his feet had attempt to rush him to her when Freya stood nearby, her eyes closed as she lifted her face to the sky, letting the rain wash over her. Her long, midnight locks clung to her face and neck, the strands darkened and slick.
