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The Oxford rain had trapped Victoire and Anthony in the Bodleian Library for nearly three hours. Their bodies were cramping as they finally stood and walked out the door. The humidity in the air, mixed with petrichor, assaulted their sense of smell. Water was still dripping from the edges of the roof tiles and leaves.
“It looks like it’s going to rain a lot for the next two weeks,” Victoire said, hugging her assignment book tighter.
“Add another two weeks,” Anthony corrected.
Victoire nodded because the man next to her was an Oxford elder.
They turned to face a more expansive landscape, and therein lay their reward for putting up with the rain.
“Rainbow!” Victoire exclaimed.
A rainbow, no matter how many times people have seen it in their lives, is always awe-inspiring. Like stars, like the arrangement of books in a library. Anyone who sees it feels like a lucky person. Indeed, the person who meets the rainbow is lucky.
“Rainbow,” Anthony began, as the Babbler he usually is, “comes from the Old English regnboga. It’s made up of the words rain and bow. It appears after rain in a bow-like shape.”
Victoire added, “In Greek mythology, Iris personifies the rainbow. In the Iliad, she delivers messages from the gods to humans, forming a link between heaven and earth.”
“Iris the messenger, a role similar to Hermes.”
“I once talked to my cohort about the rainbow. If you want to hear about the bow in the rainbow, Ramy once told me that in Hindu mythology, Indra uses the rainbow as a bow to shoot arrows of lightning,” Victoire shrugged, “though to Ramy, it was just trivia.”
Anthony nodded. “Rather than the brown color of the wood, imagine an archer carrying a colorful bow during a war. Isn’t that unique?”
Maybe that’s what someone who works in silver-working is like, always full of ideas.
“I guess … I don’t know. I have no idea. The important thing is that the bow is strong enough to support the arrow in reaching the target, I guess?”
Victoire repeated in her head the shooting lesson with the rifle that Anthony taught her. She thought about the similarities and differences between the two weapons. Archery and pistol. Although both could attack from a distance, the technique of releasing them must be different.
“Speaking of archery,” Anthony lowered his voice to Victoire’s ear, “do you want me to teach you?”
Victoire turned her head quickly, “Really?!”
Anthony stopped walking. It turned out they were already at the point of separation. “Ask me a little later, and I’ll teach you,” he winked.
There was a small laugh on Victoire’s lips, feeling how familiar the sentence and gesture felt. They then waved. Victoire walked to the left degree of the rainbow, and Anthony followed the right degree.