Senna was at the bus stop, gliding along. It was raining; she likes the rain. After all, how could icy swirls of rain affect an ice princess?
April was there. She had the only umbrella, stumbling along, slipping now and then. April liked the sun. She has had enough of the storm.
Senna's eyes were the color of the clouds soaked with rain. Gray and cold. Beautiful, so beautiful April fucking hates her for it. And she hates looking at rainclouds on humid summer days. It hurts her eyes; she still looks it's a compulsion.
April doesn't like to look at Senna either. But she looks at her. It hurts. Senna's eyes are stormclouds and they're just like stormclouds screaming I'm impending doom because Senna has that talent.
She's a stormcloud, and it's pouring.