Note from the Author: This was written on a bus ride through Normandy. I got sick right after writing it. Haha.
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Her skirt flaps harshly across her legs as her eyes lift to the sky, her soft mouth sharpened with the creases of a frown as her gaze follows the dark clouds that edge over the horizon, dominating the sky.
The wind is fierce, whipping her hair across a carefully-motionless face, a smooth brow exposing no hint to her thoughts as she monitors the approaching storm. Lightning flashes across the sky and through her eyes.
The electricity wakes her, and she turns, her brow furrowed, to stare at him. Glowing against the brooding sky, she is the master of the weather. The storm rumbles in homage to her.
He resists the urge to kneel, and smirks lightly at her, a beckoning gesture, shivering as the cool gusts wrap around him, in the scent of lightning, and thunder growls protectively for its mistress.
But, she smiles, in the only way she remembers how, edged with mocking. Her steps toward him seem to draw the storm along behind her like a puppy. Her shoulder bumps his as she meets him, intimately. "Still like the clouds?" Her voice is strong, like thunder itself, and clear to his ears.
He chuckles, turning to follow her. "More than ever."