cleansing rain {Rukia/open}

[Holden Darnell]

Sitting on the bank of the River Thames, his guitar case quite a ways from his current position, Holden watched the clouds start to darken as a storm was brewing. Most people would go inside at this point, or at least get an umbrella or some other form of protection if they could see it coming, but not him. He liked to stay out in the rain far longer than he should.

It was calming, really. Getting hit with near freezing cold water falling from the sky wasn't exactly one of his most favorite things to do, but the rain made him feel better when he was down. And he most certainly was down. His mother's condition was getting worse, but he didn't want to think about it. Thinking about it just hurt. Even when back in Tuam, he'd stand outside in the rain when life was overwhelming him, and he'd come back home with a sniffle and a new determination.

He stood, realizing that the storm was almost upon him, and made sure his guitar case was closed properly and it wouldn't leak, then started to take off his shoes and socks. He put them down with his guitar case, rolled up his trousers to above his knees, and, judging the distance between the storm and the Thames to be satisfactory, started to prepare.

He waded out into the water, keeping close enough to the shore so that his trousers wouldn't get wet, and just watched the clouds come in. The wind was blowing a bit, keeping the fog away, but it also pushed the clouds farther and farther along their track. When the gray blanket overhead couldn't hold it anymore, it started to spill its load, creating ripples on the almost glassy surface of the calm river.

Holden watched in fascination as the ripples bounced off each other and distorted his reflection in the water. When the rains were light, like they always were at the start, he would just stand there, transfixed by the craters the raindrops were creating when they hit the water's surface. But as the rains started to get heavier, the entire river was marred with these craters, even though the river tried so hard to go back to its calm, glassy state.

He let the droplets pelt him, not even bothering to put a jacket on, and he let his head fall backwards as he just stared up at the clouds with a bit of a smile on his face. "No fair, sky." he mumbled to himself, the sadness in his eyes conflicting with the grin upon his lips. "I'm the one who feels like crying."

[Rukia Kino]

It was wet and cold, but someone had to go out and get the groceries that kept them fed, meager though they were. Dried beans, whatever vegetables were the cheapest, and on the rare occasions there was dubious meat to be had from the vendors with as little trouble as possible Rukia brought it home, then made it into a sort of a stew. It wasn't always the most tasty combination, but when your stomach was empty enough anything tasted worthwhile. The bread went to Aisa to quiet her hunger pangs and Rukia stoically reminded herself that this sort of lifestyle gave her the lithe form so much of her audience preferred. Besides, she could hide her weakness for awhile longer. No reason to worry the rest of her family.

Head high and holding the slightly tattered umbrella Haku had managed to come across in a dubious secondhand store she walked over the comfortless wrought-iron pathway on the ugly railway bridge that crossed the Thames. She was still in her school clothing of a fitted skirt and button-up shirt, such as most women in the area wore; threadbare clothing and scuffed shoes, much repaired, but carefully cleaned and kept as nice as possible. She wouldn't have chanced it in this weather, since the ruination of these articles would mean being suspended from her school until she could buy more, but the vendors took less advantage of her if she looked like them. A camaraderie of conformity.

Stepping down from the bridge her heels clicked dully against the cobblestones and she began to walk by the banks toward the most destitute section of the marketplace. Her eyes were locked on the river itself to avoid looking at the women of leisure on the street- after all, her father would likely have sold her into such a life if he couldn't find someone to marry her off to- and in doing so she saw a young man, maybe about her father's age, wading in the Thames itself. Since the opening of the sewers it had become a bit cleaner, but not much; with the rainwater washing the filth from the streets into it there was likely no difference between it now and before the sewers were made.

Frowning slightly- how simple-minded could these English people get?- she blinked and watched for another moment. Bright eyes, but pale as a sheet and with an expression of pained bliss. Like those who ran away from home to be artists, and after a couple months of hunger ran home again to their wealthier parents. He certainly looked well-fed at least, and the trousers he wore were good quality. "Isn't bathwater, you know," she said, frowning a bit more. "Should be careful, will get malaria or worse. Even know what river used to be?" At least her English was clear, even if there was an accent, and she waited for his reply. After all, she was only trying to help.

[Holden Darnell]

"Isn't bathwater, you know. Should be careful, will get malaria or worse. Even know what river used to be?"

Holden jumped and whirled around at hearing the girl's voice. Upon seeing the source of the slightly accented English, a small looking girl of what looked like Asian descent, he relaxed quite a bit. He had to be careful about who he let close to him, mainly for his mother's sake rather than his own. No one could find out about her, or else they'd send her off to be with the loonies. They had to be really careful around the doctors, too, but his brother, Espen, usually handled that stuff.

Registering the girl's words, he looked a bit confused. Of course a river wasn't bathwater. The Thames was murkier than the River Clare outside of Tuam had been, but London itself was murky in some regards. He'd attributed it to the general population of London throwing things into the otherwise clean water, but apparently that wasn't it. "No... What was it?" he asked, a bit of his own accent leaking through. Londoners weren't really fond of foreigners, and he wondered if this girl would be at least a bit more comfortable if she knew that he wasn't English.

They way she spoke also sort of piqued his interest. He couldn't place her accent, having little to no knowledge of the Asian languages, but her choice of words was intriguing. She didn't seem to use pronouns or "the," but other than that, her English was flawless. Judging by the accent in her voice, English wasn't her first language, and he wondered if she was born here, in England, or somewhere else. He usually wasn't that curious about the people he met, but she was unusual. Others would just ignore him or sneer, then continue on their way. She'd actually talked to him and was trying to help. Not many people would even think of doing so in this day and age, and would rather be only concerned with their own business. It made him wonder just what kind of a person she was.

[Rukia Kino]

He answered her back, and it was a bit hard to hear over the raindrops on the water- and then add in his accent, which wasn't terribly familiar, and even her quick mind took a couple minutes to figure it out. At least he wasn't coming closer or making any antagonistic moves, which was a plus; blood on her clothing would mean a great deal of washing later and put Haku in a very foul mood. Even so she was very aware of the knives she had hidden on her body in case of that type of situation.

After a few seconds she understood what he was trying to say and cocked her head. "Used to be sewer," she replied in a clear tone so he could hear her over the continuing heavy rain. "Some people still use it that way, pour in chamber pots and garbage. Can't smell it?" The wind was low right now, the rain almost seemed to have weighed it to the ground, but it would rise again and carry the stench over all of the homes in the area- including her own.

His gaze rested on her almost appraisingly and she was caught somewhere between the traditional Japanese response, bowing her head and looking away, and the angry or defensive response that she'd grown to use since arriving in this odd city. He wasn't being aggressive, just European, she reminded herself and kept her gaze as it was with only a bit of effort as she continued to look along the river. "But may not get sick after all. Could just die of coughing fit from the cold, hits faster than malaria from garbage."