The first roll of thunder had caught her a little off guard, nothing more than a soft growl in the distance, and caused her to look up from her book and out across the balcony towards the distant mountains. Mist was gathering there, the sort of foggy whiteness that looked like dragon’s breath oozing down the mountainside, ready to claim any who got in its path. Moments later, the thunder sounded again, closer and louder this time, and she could feel the wind pick up as the pressure in the air changed. Her skin prickled pleasantly and the wind started to tug at her skirt and hair, the forest whispering of what the storm had in store.
It took her all of ten seconds to decide on a course of action, slipping from her perch on the balcony back into her study and dropping her book off on the desk. She was alone in the house, save for a Fallen Angel with a hangover the size of the Death Star who was sleeping it off in her room, so it made sense to keep her more casual clothes on and slip barefoot down to the conservatory. The glass was foggy from the warm air inside, but she could hear the thunder more clearly here, and the doors that led out onto the patio provided her with the perfect view of the mountains in the distance and the darkening sky.
She loved the stillness that preceded a storm, the change in pressure and the sudden lack of birdsong, the warm summer wind whispering delightedly of what the rain would bring and the whole earth seeming to holds its breath as it waited for the lightning to strike and the thunder to roll.
A bright streak of light shot down from the sky, alighting on the mountain before the thunder rumbled out its applause of the display. Again the lightning shone and again the thunder rumbled on like some great dragon laughing as it brought the dark clouds under its belly and the whispering winds with its wings.
There was a beat or two where everything was silent, no wind, no thunder, no anything… And then it began. The rain was a cacophony against the roof and the brick of the patio, a song for the world to sing as the thunder kept rolling and the lightning kept striking, and Mizuki couldn’t help the little girl in her finally making a mad dash for the doors and running out into the rain.
It was warm.
She remembered with every drop against her skin how she had gone for walks in the rain when she was little, how her brother had scolded her for slinking back in with soaked hair and shimmering skin, how he had grinned and winked and finally admitted that he loved it too… She remembered the days spent just watching the rain, watching it cleanse the earth of its ugly scars, watch it dance against pavement, watch it heal.
She tipped her head back and laughed, letting the water splatter against her skin and soak through her clothes. It was like a soft caress against her skin, the warm summer rain she had missed so very much. The way it tickled and teased and inevitably made her shiver; the way it felt like tiny kisses being pressed to her face and fingers tapping against her scalp.
Without warning, her feet got away from her and she started to dance.
She swayed onto her tiptoes and spun perfect pirouettes as her arms floated through the air above her, twisting and turning and floating so gracefully through the air. She started to sing, the notes rolling off her tongue the way they once had, lyrics unneeded as the rhythm and tune kept her moving, kept her dancing in the rain.