Sphere of Rains

About

Sphere of Rains covers interactions and consequences, acting as the intermediary between intent origination, application and result. Rains are transfer and deposit; mixture and saturation; that which shapes, carves, and erodes; agents of dissolution and tools for cleansing.

Rains denote the process of changes and exchanges for the inquiry — the medium through which influence is delivered, how elements are mixed, what consequences arise from their contact, the quality and essence of a change itself.

This sphere is the reactive medium that processes the abstract concepts of Stars and the kinetic forces of Winds into a solution that can saturate, erode, and ultimately re-pattern the solid ground of Stones. It is not the cause or the result; Sphere of Rains serves to signify brokering reactions themselves.

Frames of Winds

Break of Rains is a drizzle, a manifestation. First drops are moving tangible substance from heaven to the waiting earth, like a Morse signal of the first stabs from a tattoo needle. What begins as separate points of contact aims for saturation. Drops fall on the ground, and as they are absorbed, something begins to change, and this change is non-negotiable, even if its insistence is somewhat light, at least for now.

Morning of Rains is a steady patter, a presence. With the first occurrences of rhythmic water delivery surfaces become monotonously wet, and the continuity of water transfers propagates moisture into air and soil, bringing out petrichor, cooling things. The drops accumulate on leaves and flow down trunks, small puddles start to form here and there. The clouds are not too low yet, and are not moving. The environment is in quiet acceptance, mostly unchanged yet. The air is still. Drops create low white noise as the horizon fades.

Ascent of Rains is light showers, an increase in consequences. Streams form and occasionally connect with puddles, mix with earth and create thin mud. White noise gradually shifts towards pink range, gets louder as drops get bigger and more percussive. Occasional wind gusts disperse the water flows around, expanding, hunting for new grounds. It's getting darker, and where rain touches the water, small bubbles appear. Horizon moves closer; perspective becomes layered. Syncopated thunder rolls echo into the noise once in a while, more frequently and closer with time.

Fusion of Rains is a heavy rain, a steady and dense accumulation. Drops become heavy and frequent enough to form rows after rows of troposphere-long almost parallel threads of transmission from uniformly thick and low sky. Leaks form from roofs and porches. Water kicks down fruits and leaves, washes dust and dirt away, swells streams to little rivers, picks up things from the ground and carries them with it as it flows. Atmosphere is already humid enough to not allow evaporation. Sonic-wise it's more of a pink noise now, with slow and dragged otherwordly, thunder beats which don't surprise anymore, unlike the unheard before hits of crash and ringing of ride cymbals after first lightnings.

Zenith of Rains is a torrent, an unstoppable forceful transference in the form of a wall of falling water, and occasional hail. Water overflows vessels, creates landslides and rapids, opens sinkholes, cracks asphalt, uproots trees, smoothes stones, scrapes paint away, recharges groundwater. Ice makes dents in solid objects or just destroys them. It's dark and visibility gets claustrophobic. Lightnings are no longer rare and organically punctuate into the loud low environmental roar that muffles other sounds. Massive rivers dislodge chunks of various matter, mix them and move to new unexpected places. There's so much water that previously unconnected locations are now accessible by boat, and new construction technologies will be researched after. A change of such magnitude deals only in total surrender.

Vesper of Rains is a heavy rain easing, a slight relaxation of inevitability's grip. Sky's reserves start to show signs of depletion as the noise volume lowers, an unanticipated change that becomes apparent only in a while. Lightning tempo slows down, and thunder is heard from a different direction now. Sheets of water become somewhat discernible as they thin. Rivers keep flowing as they were, but their surface is visibly less disturbed by drops; erosion, displacement and mixing continue, carved channels deepen rather than widen. However, the rain doesn't drag as much wind with it now, and seems like it's getting a little lighter.

Twilight of Rains is a steady rain, an ambiguous breath out from earlier. what comes next and whether it will hold or not is still uncertain. The noise is somewhere between pink and white now, the drumming is methodical and unhurried. Lightnings subside, thunder rolls sound somewhat muffled but remain omnidirectional. The sky keeps at diffuse grayness, but visibility increases. Water flows less intensively over ground, almost carefully leaving debris here and there, but keeping at it. There's an ongoing negotiation between air drafts, temperature and moisture gradients. A backup from the weather may be possible, but if it's on the way, it's not here, yet or ever.

Abyss of Rains is broken showers, a thunderstorm's nightmare. The lowest cloud layer shears and reveals glimpses of a higher, lighter, turbulent sky. The rain loses rhythm and becomes erratic, water pools stagnate. The soundscape is dissonant, incoherent spattering leaves space for occasional loud drops and distant echoes of thundering booms elsewhere. The rain is less of a consequence now. Drops begin to consolidate on surfaces, and smells other than of water can be felt again. The landscapes have changed irrevocably, with last heavy drops from the sky yearning to hammer the point.

Chaos of Rains is sprinkles, a breakdown-inducing weakness. Sky's former certainty dissolves into random acts of moisture; whispers of drops scatter across the landscape, inconsequential. Exhausted lower clouds retreat strata by strata and allow light to beam in. Drips from eaves and trickles between stones now murmur louder than any water at all. Wind, temperature and others step onto the stage that rain is leaving, with only moisture hanging up in air, an unregulated crossroads between more sprinkles and flickers of heavenly illumination, things drying up faster than they get wet again. Is it a rainbow? Is it finally over?

Midnight of Rains is a clearing, a grand exhibition of ground vapor. The sun is shining and the air is damp. It's rather unusual to not endure another attempt from weather to wet things fully or mix something into a mud puddle. The sky is a band of blue above lightly textured clouds. Finding a colder pocket of moisture seems futile in the absence of wind. Ground is drying, puddles clearly reflect the sky, and breathing is harder than during Zenith, somehow. Relocation of ground materia is hereby complete and clearly seen at last. Little drops that are left on surfaces can't ascend to the static humid anymore.

Blink of Rains is a fog, a suggestion. Perhaps if the sun was behind a cloud for just a little longer, vapor could condense; perhaps a change in temperature could give wind a way. Tiny dewdrops silently jewel out of nowhere onto spiderwebs, blissfully twinkle in air. It would be absolute silence if not for rare rustling of leaves. Thickness of fog cotton can be measured only by the greatest treetops. Water is not without memory: where dewdrops touch, bigger drops appear and tremble against surface tension, imperceptible yet. The dew is indiscriminate to dryness.

Spark of Rains is a mist, a convection. Something has moved in the atmosphere, and fresh updrafts are partly dispersing and partly elevating fog towards an unsure promise of a change. Brightness decreases, and horizon shows faint haze. Warmth from the ground touches the sky and fluffs cloud blankets. Not much has changed below lately, only gentle hisses of wind indicate that something new might be underway. The colors are always so vivid right before the advance of another cloud front.