ethel-dreading the weather

Etheldred’s eyes are trained on the sky above. There’s clouds that have spent all morning forming the beginning of the storm wall, an imposing weather phenomenon she’s not… the most interested in looking at. There’s a grey shade overtaking the kinder blues that would normally occupy the sky, sucking out the warmth from the air and the excitement from the day. It’s dreary, it’s drab, and it’s disinteresting above all else.

Her ears flick at the same time as her scowl begins, the minute twitch in her face making her realize she’s probably dedicating a little bit too much mental strain to this simple task at hand. There’s definitely something she could do to preemptively stop the entire storm from happening, but… She’s not the best at casting magic - she’s been working on it! It’s just not the easiest concept to grasp, and she’s not some prodigy in the wilderness like her fellow Cossetlings. 

She’s an inventor in the studio, creating new articles to be worn on the body and hoping to let the others within the hills be happy with their forms. Etheldred is happier inside on these kinds of afternoons, but she’s been forced out of the house at the request of Yue. And, well, she can’t ever say no to the rooted Cossetling. She can, hypothetically, but then that means possibly ruining a business opportunity or one of her favorite clients to work with or never being able to see such a serene smile from the maroon m’lady… 

Whatever. It’s fine! It’s all fine, nothing could go wrong. She's glancing upwards at the sky, squinting progressively more as the time passes as if it’s the sole reason for her internalized worries. The storm is an omen, a sign, a symptom, something that she doesn’t want to interact with today. With a quick breath in, holding it in her chest like a small prayer, she brings her hands up parallel to her shoulders and attempts to conjure the idea of the clouds disintegrating.

Would they, though? Wouldn’t it be more of a whoosh and then they swirl in on themselves, never to be seen again? Or would it be closer to a sudden sheet of rainwater falling down all at once, or would it fall like a mist? Oh, oh no. Etheldred’s teeth are redesigning their bite with how hard her jaw is clenched, trying to quell the thoughts mid-spell with shaking arms and a flicking tail. Her watcher’s eye shines, shimmers, and then fizzles out the same way she does. In less than thirty seconds, she’s worked herself up into annoyance and now has the audacity to glare at the storms brewing without any care for her dedication to their demise. 

It’s fine. At least she prepped an umbrella before she left the house, anyway. Yue likely will have something akin to tea prepped at her abode, and Etheldred would never admit it, but she’s always wanted to try something brewed by someone who knows exactly how to do so. Her own leaves end up burnt or oversteeped every time without fail. Despite the impending lightning on the horizon, she can’t find herself minding as much anymore. Maybe the company is the outcome of today. If so, then it’s not the worst weather and she supposes it can stay for a short while. 

it’d better be gone by the time she’s saddled up to go home, though. If her hooves are already going to get drenched from the mud, she’d rather not have to worry about her blouse as well. It’s a high-quality fabric, but the stitches, and the tailoring might change from her precisely-measured cuts and closures and, and, well-

Oh, there she goes again. Better leave the house before it keeps going and she starts pacing a hole into her floorboards.