The soft pitter-patter of rain filled the house, clouds of grey casting a shadow over all and further dimming the unlit rooms. Silence lingered, only accompanied by the gentle sounds of the rain for what seemed like hours. Yet, as time passed on, a new sounds slowly emerged from the quite abode. It kept with the scheme of everything else; soft and consistent. A gentle melody.
On occasion the sound would grow, but barely. Not enough to so much as leave an echo, the song played entirely in whisper for it’s majority.
Each few notes brought the gentle passing of a hand through strands of faded red, clawed tips continuously combing through. Beneath the layer of red lay a small form, it’s breaths deep and slow. Asleep against a comforting chest, held securely by a matching hand to the one in their hair.
A low rumble shook through the dampened clouds outside, sounding through the walls and causing a stir. It stuck out among the softer sounds, interrupting all but the rain. The silence had been temporarily broken and the song had come to a stop, the singer left to stare curiously out the nearest window to judge the developing storm.
The voice that spoke was light, fairly groggy. Awoken by thunder and left without their soothing lullaby. The speaker was met with a few extra pats to the head, hand still running through their strands of red.
“I’m sorry, I got distracted. Would you like me to start again?”
His voice -- the one who sang -- was soft, remaining quiet and calm. A smile was seated upon his face, a gentle gaze playing a perfect accessory to the look. A look full of adoration and love.
Slowly, but surely, the song began again. From the top and easing it’s way back through familiar notes to recreate what the child wished to hear. A song laced with familiarity, but remaining foreign all the same.
Once more, with passing time, the child fell into slumber. Slow, deep breaths signaling the dip back into sleep, and the silence from before growing as it continued. The song lingered for a time, the stroking of hair still accompanying it...
Until it came to a slow, fading end.
Another stroke of the hair and then the hand was falling still, rested gently upon the child’s head. His smile only seemed to grow, eyes misting over as lids fell halfway.
He knew better. That name had been discarded upon them remembering their own, but... just once more. He wished to hold that name upon his tongue a single time more before finally letting it go.
Letting lids fall completely, eyes fell shut. A few stray tears pushed free and left to roll down his cheeks -- yet the reason for their existence was unknown to him. He still felt at peace; happy, and comfortable where he sat. Whatever the reason, he wouldn’t deny them.
“... sweet dreams, Kite.”
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