The most resilient of weather was upon them again. Within London, this was no anomaly. Frequently, rain splattered the ground relentlessly, causing everything to become sopping and take the appearance of something rather depressing. Some had grown used to this torrent of attention-seeking noise, coming to enjoy it eventually; though others have learnt to simply ignore it.
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If the weather had chosen to visit them that day, then so be it. It was almost as if she just chose to resume her work as she left it, the storm picking up as if she never left. She visited them often, always punctual yet seemingly in a rush.
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Her family will forevermore accompany her to complete the music that echoes around London in morose tones. The fresh, damp air danced with the wind, zooming between the bustling humans on the slick sidewalk. He tussled their hair, threw their umbrellas around and guided droplets of rain to their destination. He was always a boisterous presence, rebellious and strong. The wind simply demanded for someone's attention or sulked quietly, it could never be anything other than one or the other.
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His brother, the clouds, darkened the sky with the foreboding feeling of hours of thunder. Drifting lazily, he was silent against the wind's whistling. A common occurrence many see, and have grown familiar with. The presence of the changing tones could define the incoming before one could guess, he being generous and open-tongued.
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The rain always sprinkled at first, constantly finding a new opening to land upon, soaking everything she could. Sliding down and across the smooth surfaces, she cheered as she fell further. A buoyant presence that was also burdened with great melancholy. Though she promised incoming growth, she represented misery in itself. She was gelid, and left a sour feeling in the air when she was of a foul mood. Otherwise, she was a merry event that cleaned the atmosphere and introduced the smell of the sodden earth once more.
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As the climate played in their own wonderland, they were blissfully unaware of the humans' plight. They struggled against the headstrong gusts, were vulnerable to the cold, and often preferred sunny afternoons to the gloomy aura a storm brought. These humans didn't appreciate the weather's attempt at 'playing'. The humans were always occupied, too busy worrying about some obscure thing. They constantly hurried from home to work and vice versa, hiding under anything that could protect them from the cold droplets of a cloud's cry.
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They ignored the weather's plea for attention. Why wouldn't they? They have places to be -people to see. They were on a tight schedule and nothing would -could- interrupt that. Unfortunately for these mortal beings, they were unaware of the marvelous happenings right in front of them. They were lost to them, practically useless to the science driven race.
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They were unaware of the performance around them, how the elements thrived to impress them. They danced and danced, and cried and called. Nothing would drive their attention away.
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The storm was left to dance amongst themselves, laughing at each other, bringing wondrous songs to the streets of London. Even if they were left unnoticed, they would still provide an escape for those who could learn to listen close enough.
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