The Gardens

[shelley_winters]

It is raining heavily outside, clouds blotting out all signs of the moon or stars. The wet scent of the garden in the lightning-charged air is almost palpable.

Icy droplets pelt downwards as Shelley stands frozen, outlined against the faint light coming from the open door a little way behind her. If she's shaking, it's not from the cold.

DA

She can't leave. She can't go back in there.

(tentative lips just brushing hers)

No. Oh, no.

She can walk, out here. Even if he can find her anywhere, it's dark and the robe she wears - his robe - is black. The garden will hide her long enough.

Comments

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

Carefully, he put an arm around her shoulder. She was cold, and he was warmer than she. A look down at her face as he spoke calmly. Water dripping off his own body as he did. They were both soaking wet.

"It is cold out here. We ought to go inside, get you dried off and warm lest you catch ill."

[shelley_winters]

Her thin shoulders tense under his arm, but she is so very cold. They have to go in some time. She doesn't look up, eyes remaining carefully on the rain-sodden grass underfoot.

"...Okay."

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

With gentle care, he lead her inside. It was cold and it would not do to be out in the cold evening. Mist rose like smoke from the burned rose bushes in the icy rain. The stained glass windows stained the ruined garden in reds and oranges, puddles of crimson light at the base of the rose bushes.

A flash of lighting. The sound of thunder echoed.