analogy

The rain pours down on the cobble streets of Bree, overflowing the fountain near the Pony, flooding the lower parts of the city, drowning bug life and filling small ditches. The patter of it creates the familiar white noise, and soaks all who find themselves under it this sunset. As dusk threatens its arrival, Stitches leans his back against a wall, tucked behind an alley and slouching over himself, long since having let his cloak fall from his shoulders.