Ever heard the saying, 'When it rains, it pours.'
It does pour in Mythronos.
The storm breaks open the sky. Slashing pebbles of icy rain pound down on the streets until the cobblestones of the Capital are a sludge of muddy water and the alleys are overrun with a mild flood—it is a small joy that these people have discovered drainage systems. The rain bathes the red-topped homes and lamps shiver by windowsills; never mind the fact that it's still weeks until Spring breaks.
The sea is a live thing as it roars and belches, tossing like a child's toy the unlucky ships caught in the storm. The wind is a barrage of whistling wraiths; dark and tearing at shut windows. Sailors bend the knee on decks, hands clasped in prayer. Captains clutch long hats to their wet hair, and hasten over the docks to any shelters the shores provide. The skies above mirror the fury of the raging sea. Black and frothing—threatening, as if to crash right over us.