It was a wicked and wild wind...

[rookshire_hill]

Morning cracked like any other. Birds chirped, wind blew, the sun rose. If anything, it was a notably serene daybreak. The calm before the storm, as it were. That rule applied across the world--across all worlds.

By mid-afternoon the sweet breeze had picked up to whipping winds and at least one of Gladio’s laundry attempts had been blown away, out to the tree line in the distance and still tangled in a tall pine. Green began to creep into the clouds, bright and sickly behind the rolling darkness. A low rumble of thunder, not the deafening roar from last month but there all the same, an endless threat from the ominous sky.

The air smelled thick and wet, heavy with rain despite the fact that it was only a threat just yet. It was only a matter of time.

As calm and beautiful as the morning had been, the day that stretched out after it slowly morphed into something altogether different. Quiet birdsong was replaced with rude words by people that just seemed to have no patience. Gentle light hardened until it was stifling and overbearing. The very world seemed to be on edge.

And yet, no one seemed to notice. The world moved on, snappish and impatient, and somewhere between one step and the next there was the sensation of ice water being drizzled down the spine and then...everything had changed.