actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen (lucas)
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Rain in the swamp was a wholly different thing from anything Lucas had ever experienced. It broke the humidity, the hot cloying dampness that clung to his hair and skin. It had taken getting used to, living in the swamps, climate so different from the mostly dry cold area he’d grown up in. There it rarely rained and when moisture formed in the air, it came down as snow.

But rain had him donning the short robes Locien had convinced him to wear, stepping outside their tree-house, boots abandoned, pale toes curling into verdant growth, head tilted back to let warm rain run down his face, drenching him from head to toe.

Rain had him coming back inside – if he made it that far before Locien joined him – soaking wet and beaming in once white, now see-through robes.

Rain had never been so much fun for Locien before Lucas discovered it.

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