-Caspian Grayson:
We're standing outside in the rain.
It's not the kind of rain that feels like background weather anymore. It feels heavy, almost intentional, like the sky itself is refusing to stay quiet while this is happening. The air is cold in a deep, penetrating way that seeps through clothing, through skin, settling somewhere behind the ribs where it becomes harder to ignore the longer you stay still.
Umbrellas are spread across the field in uneven clusters of black and dark tones, but they don't really protect anyone properly. The wind keeps shifting, pushing rain sideways in sudden bursts, slipping past edges and dripping down sleeves, shoulders, hair. Everything is wet anyway. Everything is soaked in a way that feels permanent, like even if the rain stopped right now, nothing would go back to how it was before.
