Raining Regret


Authors
Niightingvale
Published
2 years, 2 days ago
Stats
513

January 2021 Storm Chasing Prompt for World of Orrison

Rihele thinks to herself about regret while on her way home in the rain.

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Regret is quite the funny thing, if you think about it. Every day of all of our lives, somebody does something they regret. It doesn’t matter where you stand on the social ladder. Top to bottom, right to left. Everyone is going to feel some kind of regret.


And my regret right now is being caught out in this storm.


It’s a more lighthearted one to think about, as I run from cover to cover. I’m not looking to get Fysa poisoning. In my line of work, that’s not something I can really run the risk of. The thought amuses me, and keeps me going from spot to spot.


I wonder what my work would be like instead, sometimes, if I hadn’t managed to find a job here in Ichorrai. I don’t know where I would be now. Probably still roaming outside the city, running odd jobs. Trying to make ends meet. Trying to make up for the things I said.


Hm.


Regret does wrap its vines around us all, even in the most innocent-seeming of memories. As I pause below a tree, sparing myself a moment to breathe, I look up towards its branches. Lightning flashes and illuminates the dark specks of rain falling from the sky, the booming rumble of thunder following it soon afterwards.


Could I use my wings and fly in this? Well, I certainly could, but then the risk comes once  again. Would I be faster, making it home? Too hard to tell. I kick myself off the ground and continue running.


As I run, my mind wanders back to those memories, the things I wish I’d never said. The damage was done, and while a chip and a crack can be mended, the person who broke it knows what was done. It’s not something that’s easy to replace. At least, not with something like this.


How would he feel, I wonder, if I told him I felt regret? If we dragged ourselves through the mud and apologized to one another, instead of pretending that time heals all wounds, and leaving it unspoken? Would he be willing to speak to me more often? To tell me about the research he’s discovered? Or would he be pushed away? Another argument ensuing from an innocently-deriven gesture?


The more I dwell on it, the more I feel as though the Fysa poisoning might just be worth it.


Spreading my wings and taking to the skies, the rain is a harsh and cold one. It doesn’t take much for the winter air to sink into feathers when they become drenched in such a torrential  downpour. Ah well. What’s done is done. While I regret it, and so many other things, at least I can admit to myself that I regret them. Maybe when I get the chance, I can start over. Call him over and speak to him. Until then, I’ll let my only regret of the night be that I stayed out in the rain far too long.