Rose's laptop was out of battery power. So there was only one thing left to do. It was time to make her way to that backup generator.
She thought about knitting a laptop cozy to shield her computer from the rain, but that would have been such a waste of time!
Besides, she already knitted a nice purple one a while ago. She retrieved it from her knitting bag and applied it to the laptop.
She captchalogued the laptop plus cozy.
Rose then considered equipping the grimoire to her strife specibus, but that would have been incredibly ill-advised!
There were some dark forces she just didn't want to mess around with. She understood this better than most, and put the book back down.
Next, she captchalogued the knitting bag and the grimoire, in that order. It was always a logistical puzzle with her tree modus.
The tree auto-balanced, leaving the knitting bag accessible in the root card.
Now she allocated her knitting needles to her strife specibus. She felt a lot more comfortable with this as a weapon. She was so handy with those needles, she felt like she could probably use them to filet a sword fish.
However, she lost the root card in the process, severing the tree and causing the remaining two items to eject. Luckily, Rose was quick on her feet and caught them before they hit the ground.
Another odd thought of knitting a plush cuddle-cthulhu to sooth her nerves entered Rose's mind, but that would have also been a preposterous waste of time!
Besides, she was quite sure she had never heard of this creature called "Cthulhu" before. There were, however, many other specimens of the zoologically dubious she was familiar with.
Such as Fluthlu, Foul Patrician of Misery. To hear his mammoth belly gurgle was to know the Epoch of Joy had come to an abrupt end.
And Nrub'yiglith, Shamebeast King of Grotesquery, Writhe-Lord of the Moist Beyondhood. Hearing his melodious chirps and tongue-clicks caused one's bones to explode.
And of course there was Oglogoth, The Deep One. Whenever he ground his teeth, all the children of a random galaxy somewhere would frown continuously for a nine thousand year span. He was the first and smallest of the Smaller Gods, appointed in servitude of a vile, unfathomable pantheon of Middling Gods which catered to the whims of the Noble Circle of Horrorterrors, an omniscient, omnipotent order of the elite few, forever cloaked in the darkness of the Furthest Ring.
And then there was this strange page in the grimoire that contained some rather mysterious notes on summoning procedures, with images of windows and electrical outlets. She had never been quite sure what these diagrams were getting at.
After re-captchaloguing everything the way she wanted it to appear in the tree, Rose headed downstairs.
She figured she had done enough dilly-dallying. Time to get a move on!
Finding herself once again on the exterior walkway in the rain, Rose looked up at the sky for a brief moment. When she looked up, her hand guarding her eyes from the rain, she saw a small part in the clouds and could see the array of meteors flying through the night sky in the distance.
She wondered if this rain would ever let up. It had driven since the month began, perhaps long enough to forget its purpose. It no longer even knew to assuage fire. Somewhere a zealous god threaded these strings between the clouds and the earth, preparing for a symphony it feared impossible to play. And so it threaded on, and on, delaying the raise of the conductor's baton.
How she hated this season.
"April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain." – American sports legend, Charles Barkley.