[Peregrine]: 379.Scraps & Prose.Brandir Walking In The Rain

A/N--I was walking home in the rain myself, one March day, and the world around me was in a vague, dreamy mood, I guess, because this is what it told me about.
This is all there was, but here it is.

*              *             *

He asked, “Are you actually going out there? It’s raining.”
They were standing at the window, watching the cold March rain pattering at the neon puddles in the road. It painted the world grey, grey and dim.
Brandir said, “Yeah.”
“Yeah, it’s a long walk, but I’ll make it. I think they need me over there, anyway, and I don’t mind the rain.”
“Don’t mind the rain,” his uncle turned his strict eyes away from the window to look at him. “What about the cold?”
Brandir shrugged, “I won’t be too long.”
Silence fell, the same kind of pale, revered silence that reigned over the rest of the house. Quiet, save the soft sounds of the rainy world outside. Still, save the shifting of pale light or shadow. Serene and wise in its emptiness…
Rssh!
Wshraow, shh…
The cars rushed past him, their tires hissing on the wet pavement. Brandir paid them no mind; his dark eyes were caught up in thoughts, and in observation of the feel in the air. Mild—almost spring like, but with winter’s bite along the wind’s edges. 
And something else, a meaning, a sensation.
The rain stained the bare trees, tingeing the moss with throaty green shades. The streetlights were on: a bitter, orange glow that fell short in the daytime. And the clouds: varying in their tones of grey, in their depth, in the shapes and dark pictures they made dancing above the city—
It was a long walk.