Hezekon
Right Hono(u)rable Minister of Music
Outside, the world is grey. Or gray. It matters not. A nasty shade has o'erta'en the glorious city that still yet defies the darkness its capture. There fall all around, a-plipping and a-pratting of little morsels of water, leaving their residue spread before themselves as a blanket of liquidity. It seems never-ending. And mayhap it will be. At the present, it is too early to guess.
Well, perhaps for some. Little Nwingon Glorenteld is setting up her science lab, getting out her barometers, her weights and levers, and other assortment of simple gadgetry and measurements. She embarks to forecast the end of the rain. It has rained all her life, as far as she knows, and she's always thought it curious that a rain would not stop. Well, not always. She had been set on by a stranger that had remarked how long it had been since it had started raining. She thought it a curious thing indeed that something would start and then wouldn't stop. So, she had set out upon what she considered her First Really Important Thing. And now she was so close, she thought the would never be able to contain the inflated feeling in her chest.
Then her mom called out to her from the apartment below.
Well, perhaps for some. Little Nwingon Glorenteld is setting up her science lab, getting out her barometers, her weights and levers, and other assortment of simple gadgetry and measurements. She embarks to forecast the end of the rain. It has rained all her life, as far as she knows, and she's always thought it curious that a rain would not stop. Well, not always. She had been set on by a stranger that had remarked how long it had been since it had started raining. She thought it a curious thing indeed that something would start and then wouldn't stop. So, she had set out upon what she considered her First Really Important Thing. And now she was so close, she thought the would never be able to contain the inflated feeling in her chest.
Then her mom called out to her from the apartment below.