how little we know [o]

[plum]

"What do you mean I'm out?!" The screech had been loud enough to be heard outside the walls of the cottage, and that was only the beginning. Inside the building a small woman was pacing back and forth, fingers quickly running through her hair and pushing it away from her face as she continued to walk frantically. The sound of heavy footsteps and then slamming cabinets sounded throughout the house, and within minutes a white-haired figure was storming out of the door and looking like like she was having the worst day ever. Which, if you were to ask her, she was. Continuing to grumble to herself, the young witch pulled a rucksack onto her back and closed the door behind her.

This just wasn't her day. Dahlia had planned to stay inside today, working on new potion recipes that she had found in a book her father had sent her. But now, after having just discovered that she was completely out of mushrooms, Dahlia was forced to leave her house and go out in search of new supplies.

Fantastic.

The walk to the woods was short and uneventful, though her mood only continued to sour as the sky darkened. It wasn't long before the sky opened up and released a downpour that soaked the poor, tiny thing to the bone. Taking refuge under a tree, Dahlia was about to poke her head out when a loud crack of thunder caused her to release a small yelp and duck back underneath the safety of the thick leaves, protecting her from the rain.

"This would be my luck."

[blob]

Arden's not the kind of person who checks the weather before heading out, nor is he the type to assume rain when he sees grey clouds creeping in from the corner of his vision. Instead he crosses his fingers and hopes fate will take it easy on him today; it's a long walk home here from Tulipa Lake and he's already settled next to his usual tree, a pen in his hand and a letter to his parents half-finished in his lap. But then a drop hits his nose, followed by a few more on his letter, and Arden can only smile tiredly as a low rumble sounds from above. He supposes that's how life is sometimes.

"I don't think I packed my umbrella either," he mumbles, yet finds it in his bag anyway, left from the last time he used it. Grinning, he guesses that this too is just another part of life, but while he's full of luck today, he happens upon someone who's down on theirs on the way back. Arden's passing by the woods and spinning his umbrella idly when he sees a girl taking shelter beneath a tree. She's soaked to the bone, and far be it for him to ignore anyone stranded in this weather, much less a pretty lady.

"Hey," he says, waving with his free hand. "Need some help over there?"

(incoming non-magical person! hope you don't mind me dropping in)