Frowning in the Rain

To everyone else, this weather would be appalling. Just yesterday, the great canvas above was brand new; painted in a soft blue with hardly any clouds in way of the sun. Yet there she stood, beside her husband, where the darkened clouds gathered; the preponderance of the rain drowning out all other sound, making it so that only the heavy rain droplets' screaming be heard.

Cordelia, her right arm linked with her husband's, stared blankly at the two foot stone before them. A new addition to the once great tree which stood in the center of a great golden field of buttercups. Beautiful it'd be, if only the sun had decided to make an appearance that morning.

"I've heard that once someone's father dies, the child will cry." Her husband began, speaking in a low and almost melancholic manner, "Am I abnormal for not doing the very same?"

Cordelia sighed softly, aloud. Not in a tiresome or bothered way. No, not at all. But in dismay. As a way of assurance, to show that she was there, Cordelia rested her head against Forrest's shoulder. The two stood in silence, underneath the black umbrella, their hands intertwined.

"The roses will wilt in this rain, dear." She warned softly, gently tugging on Forrest's arm, not that it caught his attention. His steel gaze was locked on and only on the stone and the name indented on it. Usually, thoughts would be racing at nearly a hundred miles-maybe over-, but not at the current moment. His mind was blank, his facial expression even more so. Though, he broke out of his little trance after he heard her calling out to him another time with a concerned look glazed over her mahogany colored orbs. He nodded his head and followed his beautiful wife down the hill towards the black carriage.

The sun surely wouldn't come out any time soon...

Forrest sat on the back seat, head tilted back with his eyes closed, brows furrowed. Upon seeing his distressed state, Cordelia slid off her own seat and moved to kneel down in front of him, gently removing his tightly clenched fists from his slightly flattened hair, due to his hat.

"You'll only get a headache, dear." She spoke.

To him, her voice was so gentle. She spoke in a voice so quiet, barely above a hushed whisper, yet every word she uttered was perfectly clear. Most of all, sincere. And all because of it, he wanted to scream, "...don't pity me, Cordelia."

"Why do you think I pity you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He scoffed, eyes remaining closed, "You don't love me, Cordelia." He spat bitterly, not that it was possible to disguise the sheer...disgust...he felt. It was evident in the way that tears built up in the corners of his eyes, how pained he really was. Cordelia, however, remained still. Only after a few moments, she finally countered, "Then, what about you?"

The question was uncalled for. No other "happily married wife" would even dare to question her husband. She'd be thrown out onto the streets like a worthless doll, with a red hand print on her cheek; to be left with nothing but a growing nightmare of self-pity engulfing her, threatening to swallow her whole. But what did it matter? He wouldn't dare do anything of the sort to his "darling". If he did, then it would be him that would suffer. He'd be the one at fault. He'd be the one wallowing in his own self-pity, regretting making yet another foolish decision and all because of what? He couldn't contain his temper. Even if he dared to abandon her, he'd try and search to the ends of the world just to find her and get her back.

But when he didn't respond to her rather harmful remark, Cordelia mentally sighed before setting herself back onto her velvet seat of the carriage.

In silence, tense yet comfortable enough, she gazed out the window to a world of grey. It wasn't even the scenes outside she was focusing on, but the raindrops sticking to the small, oval-shaped window. At the current pace which the horses were trotting, it wasn't fast enough to see the little droplets race down from one end of the window to the other. Yet still, she was more than satisfied. Because where everyone else would find this weather appalling, Cordelia had always had an innocent attraction to the gloomy weather.

As soon as she'd reach the manor, she promised herself to change out of her funeral wear, slip on something more comfortable and just stand out in the rain. She longed to feel the raindrops gently landing on her face, beading her eyelashes like it would the spiderwebs. It felt like it had been ages since she last experienced such tranquility, and all she had to do was step into her own backyard!

Perhaps...just maybe...she'd be able to experience that, today?