Just something I whipped up quickly during the short rain just now.
It was a light rain.
The thunder boomed ever so gently, off in the distance. The maiden listen to the pitter-patter of the rain outside, falling down in soothing rhythms. Softly, gently, it fell.
There was no one around but the woman sitting near the door, using what light she could from the rain to sew. It was bright and she didn’t need more than what she had.
The young man sat in his room, his fingers skillfully creating an image on paper. His pencil scratched across the surface of the paper, making a rough but pleasant sound.
All this while, the rain fell. It was gentle, comforting, soothing. There was no one but the three of them in the house.
The maiden enjoyed sitting at the window, her legs tucked under her, a cup of warm tea in her hands. Taking a breath, she blew the surface of the tea gently, taking a cautious sip. The world outside was grey and colorless.