seylin and that time he contemplated rain or something
Seylin enjoyed the rain. Where others would scatter at the first signs of showers, the angel would stare up into the clouds with a small, appreciative smile. While people scurried to find shelter with their newspaper umbrellas on their heads, and their electronics hurriedly stowed in their pockets, Seylin would chuckle softly and find a good bench to sit on. There he would sit, perfectly content as thick sheets of precipitation fell over him. Lots of people looked at him strangely, because they didn't understand. They didn't understand that the rain made him feel connected to something that was much bigger than he was.
Lots of people didn't like rain. It cancelled plans, caused leaks, and drenched finely tailored suits. Seylin didn't have any suits, so supposed he didn't fully understand that issue. Rain, to many, meant gloom. It meant the opposite of sunny and warm, it meant cold and it meant a day spent indoors. In big cities, it drew collective groans from people biking and people walking alike. It was the same in every city; the dynamic shifted slightly under the first drip. Every city, in his opinion, looked better in the rain. Water touched every surface, each individual droplet creating quick rippling effects as they broke. And for a short time, the regular noises would be drowned out by the heavy pattering of the raindrops.
Redgrove was different than the cities he had previously called 'home'. Here, rain was a rarity of sorts, a gift the desert recieved only occasionally. The desert, like many things, was beautiful in the angel's eyes. He supposed he understood why many took one look at the parched, cracked land and fled in the other direction. The desert was unforgiving and bone dry, and the only things that could exist there were cacti and creatures without lips. Mostly, it was hot, stiflingly so. But when the sun began to sink below the horizon line, the desert became as chilling as a fall day somewhere else.
Out here, you could see every star and trace every constellation on your fingertips. Seylin had been told that many humans used a particularly bright star called the North Star to guide them when they wandered. Apparently lots of people embarked on adventures like this. Seylin was pretty sure he'd like that kind of lifestyle, one that involved sleeping beneath a blanket of stars each night, never quite knowing where he would end up. He sighed softly to himself as he realized that it would be a very lonely life.
The desert was pretty lonely, he thought, as he sat cross-legged among the sparse foliage, with his clothes clinging and completely soaked to his skin. He watched lightning score the higher peaks in the distance, the thunder roaring to announce itself before each flash. His wings hugged his shoulders, sopping and heavy with rainwater, but that he didn't mind. The desert, in all his experience had always been a very silent place. But now, as he waited beneath the downpour, the wasteland was filled with one loud, thundering noise. Once, Edward had had told him that the deserts had once been oceans, a long, long time ago. Now, as muddy water rose around him and seeped through his pant legs, he didn't find that so hard to believe.
Rain wasn't something Seylin understood on a scientific level; he understood few things of that nature. As far as he was concerned, the rain knew just when it was the right time to fall, when the cracked plateua needed it the most severely. It would never let the desert die. Rain, he thought, was a little like Father, but perhaps instead, it was father to nature. Sometimes rain didn't happen in the desert for a long time, but it never abandoned the desert forever. It always came back.
