Void Voice

ethereal

ɪˈθɪərɪəl/

adjective

1.

extremely delicate and light in a way that seems not to be of this world.

     it’s raining six different shades of yellow today. canary, butterscotch, and dijon are some. but Cecil’s broadcast told more, and no one on the street has fallen to their knees to curse the tones on the radio for the tuscan sun on their flower gardens.

     Carlos, of course, already knows why this is. he’s been there, done it all and had his morning coffee after it. he’s sent a text or two, during weather forecast, saying ah, he’s got it, that is the weather today, and would he like to meet up after work? he wished it could have hung up a little on them though. Carlos has the coat he wore in to the lab, folded over an arm, it used to be chiffon. now the tail ends are saffron and drip-drying gold. 

     he always has a spare (very handy, and very well-worn), so he’s clean and capable under an umbrella, handle lining the stiffness of his arm in a balancing act while he rummages for pen caps at the bottom of his bag. he’d ask Cecil for help, to at least hold their cover, but he’s fine.

. todays weather is a tad unusual-'even for Nightvale', Carlos might say later, when they discuss it over dinner later. Cecil had not seen it rain hues of yellow in what may have been years, or a few months. time was so finicky, it is hard to tell.

. Cecil does not bother popping his own umbrella open. why would he when perfect Carlos will happily hold him close under his own? the broadcaster is happy to walk to his boyfriend.

. spilling notebooks is not on the plan today, and Cecil starts slightly at it. he bends down to hurry and collect his boyfriends things before they are ruined. so much science would be lost, if he did not! and he was very much into science, how could he let any go to waste?