It was easy to love the rain, from its gentle pattering to the smell of ozone in the air. As a weather witch it was only natural that it took her breath away, and wasnt the only bit of nature that did. Tris loved the breezes, which could cool her and bring her whispers of knowledge.
The more dangerous weather patterns felt her love as well. Lightning was a special favourite, tingling on her fingers and giving her power that she never thought she would have. Harsh winds that destroyed and wrecked what was before them inspired awe, but her best love of the Earth was earthquakes. She too loved the tides, for teaching her humility, and also… Well she would never say it.
Laying on the roof of her home on Cheeseman’s street, watching the clouds grow, Tris wondered about love.
It was a soft ache from the beauty, wheather it was from sunlight glinting off water or listening; as she was right now to Sandry hum as she wove.
It was the awe of a storm, the awe of watching Daja peel living metal from her arm.
It was also the comfort of this roof, the clouds building, the light breezes. Of Briar falling asleep on her shoulder as she read.
It was a person brushing aside a curtain of lighting without fear, it was the trust that they would never hurt another. It was being weak, unable to move due to a powerful working and yet knowing that you didnt have to fear, you were safe, they were there. It was the smell of dirt, of hot metal, the softness of the clothing she was wearing.
True felt tears prick her eyes as she heard Briar take up Sandry’s hum, Daja’s hammering knocking out a beat for them to match.
For Tris, love came with the weather.
She scratched her palm with the scar absently, letting out a deep breath as the wind brought her an image of Rosethorn, just a few miles away.
Like the air, like the sunlight and wind, love surrounded Tris. And Tris? She was happy
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