Angels wept brumal tears, cold and merciful, pouring from obsidian heavens that were broken by lustrous spindles of lightening. Thunder galloped on brumal hooves, following the gleam of Jupiter's fury. Huddled beneath the wide expanse of a silk umbrella was small figure, secreted away from the gilded fire of the storm-shrouded-vault of heaven. The breath of the tempest was quiet granting the child the small mercy of not having to tightly cling to the umbrellas handle. He was curled up in the corner of a wrought iron bench, the umbrella resting against the back, the domed top sequestering him from the world, an opaque veil hiding him from the cruelties of death.
Tears dripped from eyes the color of elixir, of sorcerer's magic and dragon scales. They flickered with a dark consuming sorrow, the grief of a broken soul pressing against the splintered shards of a ruined reality. He had buried his parents, watched them descend into the maw of two unforgiving graves. And as he stood there defiant against the agony that threatened take him into the shadow of despair; he felt something inside him break. Against the divine prayers of the priest and the distant growling of the storm he heard the death knell of his own childhood. He stayed by the graveside of his parents as other members of his family drifted away to their cars, silent specters in black. He was idly twirling a ring around his finger, a circlet of silver and gems far too big for his fingers. It was his father's ring, the last gift he had given him. He stood there surrounded by the smell of roses and fresh earth until he had felt the stern presence of his grandfather loom behind him. Without a word he had turned and followed his new guardian back to the Rolls Royce Wraith idling at the curb.
The ride back to the manor had been in silence, and he spent it with his head bowed and small hands clasped between his knees. He wasn't afraid of his grandfather just apprehensive about him. The older man had a dark and lupine aura much like that of a wolf always lurking in the peripheral shadows. He offered his grandson no comfort and had immediately locked himself in his office, leaving the child to his own devices.
Not wanting to trespass in his grandfather's domain, and needing to get out of the manor that still smelled like his parents he had decided to wander outside. He had scribbled a note in crooked fledgling cursive so his grandfather would know where he went, though he doubted that he would care, and struck off, umbrella in hand. For a time he simply walked, lost in the rhythm of his footfalls ignorant to the darkening sky and how the breeze began to smell of white hot electricity. The ring was in his pocket and absently twirled around the tips of his fingers. When the first echo of thunder rolled down on him he was shaken from his melancholy thoughts and he realized that he had wandered into one of the many parks that surrounded his home.
The rain had descended suddenly the cold stealing away his breath and his senses. He ran the umbrella forgotten in his hand. He sprinted toward a large sycamore, flinching at the sudden whip-crack of thunder. He slipped and fell heavily skinning his and hands and chin, to intent to getting out of the storm to notice the ring slip from his finger.
When he finally made to his tiny shelter the small elegant suit he had worn to the funeral was damp. It was then that he noticed that the ring was missing that sorrow caught up with him, snarled through his mind and took hold of his wretched soul. His body shook with anguish and chill of the storm. He drew in a shuttering breath, his heart aching in his chest and wiped his eyes against his bent knees. He felt lost, abandoned by his parents, cast aside by God.
Now there was nothing.
He sobbed as that thought crashed against his mind, it made his bones ache. He shivered and rested his head against the cold metal of the bench. He closed his eyes losing himself to the symphony of the rain. He shifted when he heard a gentle tapping against the umbrella too hard to be drops of rain. A voice softly called out to him.
"Hey, anyone under there?"
The boy remained silent, his heart hammering in his chest too startled to speak.
"Look kid I know you're under there, I saw you. Can I come under?"
He was quiet for a moment then spoke hoping the other boy would just go away.
"G-go away,"
He heard a snort then there was a rustle and a blond youth around his age lifted the umbrella. He was dressed in jeans that were smeared with mud and was wearing a simple white shirt that clung to his skinny rain soaked frame. He gave the redhead a crooked smirk.
"No, it's cold and wet out here,"
He settled beside him and drew his knees up to his chest mirroring the others position. He tilted his head so that he could look his companion more fully in the face.
His eyes were hue of a blue birds wing and his face was angular like that of a fox but friendly and non-threatening. The grin faded from his mouth as he cast his eyes over the boy beside him. A tear stained mud smeared; face framed with flaming red hair, with huge hollow green eyes peered at him intently. The blond scooted closer.
"Its ok don't cry it's just rain and mud. So you got caught out in the storm you won't get in trouble by your mom for being wet and dirty."
Blue eyes widened as the other boys faced crumpled and a low cry escaped his lips. He reached out a tentative hand and laid a hand on the redheads shoulder.
"Hey what-"
"My mother is dead,"
The sentence rang hollow under the dome of black. The blond was silent gathering his thoughts then moved closer careful of the wooden handle of the umbrella. He drew the younger boy into an awkward embrace. The red head pressed his face into the blonds neck and sobbed. The blue eyed boy tightened his hold absentmindedly wiping the mud from the others face. After a few moments the sobbing died down to whimpers and then silence. The older boy sighed glancing down to find broken emerald eyes glimmering with tears peeking up at him. The blond slightly smiled, it was a wise smile one that didn't fit his young face.
"It's ok to cry, I cried when my mom died too."
The redhead blinked in surprise and the blond continued to grin. They stayed like that, one embracing the other until the rain waned then ceased. The blond was the first to poke his head from beneath the umbrella then redhead followed. They stood quietly, droplets of water falling from the leaves and catching the sun. After a moment the blond nudged him and slipped something from his pocket.
"I found this,"
He held up the ring, it glittered in the rain washed light.
He glanced at the redhead and winked.
"I think a prince dropped it."
He handed it to his new friend, shook some of the water droplets from his hair and began to make his way across the clearing.
The redhead stared after him a moment before he found his voice.
"Wait, what's your name?"
The blond turned a wide fox-grin on his face, water shimmering in his hair, his china blue eyes blazing.
"Gin, what's yours little prince?"
The redhead smiled back,
"It's Edward,"
Gin kept walking backwards, his hands in his pockets.
"Edward…remember you're never alone."
Then he spun around and disappeared into the tree line. Ed stayed staring after him for a few moments before his he began walking toward home. He wouldn't see Gin again until a decade later, in the hot sand of Iraq where once again they would be joined in death.