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[In the midst of a light rain stands a familiar figure, still brandishing a few bandages over his chest and arm. He appears tired, though generally stoic as the rain washes over his form.
He looks down, holding out a gauntleted hand. The water pools and drizzles down, and he sighs.]
Rain is the sorrow of the gods.
...
...if so, why does it seem so peaceful?
He looks down, holding out a gauntleted hand. The water pools and drizzles down, and he sighs.]
Rain is the sorrow of the gods.
...
...if so, why does it seem so peaceful?