i'm just black licorice

SUNJATA

may you prosper till you die
prim and pitted black and white

The Unity Gardens aren’t often busy – but something about the prolonged unrest within the city seems to be a reason enough to invite more people to the noble plate. It’s a slight welcome reprieve for the young Enforcer, having been essentially grounded from his stunt in the Edge plate. His helping out to get Drenchers back down despite the temporary closure of the tram hadn’t been taken to kindly, and unfortunately Sunjata became intimately aware of just how unwelcome those impulsive thoughts were.

So now, when he wasn’t allowed to delve into any adventures other than the Core for his meet ups with Savera and the trips to the libraries there that he can get away with supervised, (alongside his duties as an Enforcer in the Drench) he was stuck here. On his plate, under careful supervision of his father and whatever other lackey’s of his that kept their eyes out for him.

So when the train rolls through to drop the visitors off the second the gardens open for the rest of the Plates, it technically falls under Sunjata’s approved places to go, and so the young Bratena finds himself walking along winding path after winding path, listening to the groups that have come to investigate, to appreciate it in awe, to stand beside the reservoir and watch the ripples of water and fish within that move with a variety of colors.

may we dance until it rains
may we drink to hide our shame

Zolara

So give it up, start beating, hearts have gone cold
Had enough repeating, it's all been done before

POE, POD, POSE... Such funny little names for the daunting titans of industrial prowess they were. In the past months, Zolara had moved them in her estimation from places of dreams to a facts of life. Not that she would have called it a comfortable transition, but something in being forced to carry on and navigate a space as if you belonged there on a daily basis did a number on the intimidation factor. One had to get on with it, didn't they? And her worked helped; setting out the shop, meeting with vendors and clientele... In order to be successful here you at least had to act like you already were and that'll really screw your courage to the sticking place. So far, she'd managed to pull it off, and her mission today was a testament to that.  Oh, right. The mission. The mission to POINT, the delivery mission specifically too POINT, Zola's mission.

Let's not beat around the bush, it was a delivery, and not even a clandestine one. The bundle held securely with rustic-you-paid-for ribbon and brown paper was filled with custom formula lotions and skin treatment; rush order, delivery required. No, it was the location of this afternoon trip that caused the little tremor in her chest when the train doors opened and she moved with the little crown off the car and into the very seat of power in Ok'Kotoll. Growing up, they were castles in the sky where mortals dare not tread. Today, they were expecting acne treatment hand delivered to the service entrance.

She'd come early, entirely too early, partly out of abject terror that she would be late but also because the Gardens had been a secret wish to see for long years. There were a few hours yet, and maybe a few more on the way back that would allow here to wander the walking paths, and so she did. It wasn't long until she saw what she'd been hoping, flowers she'd only ever heard of bloomed along the paths that she now had the privilege of walking. At one she had to stop and pull from her coat pocket a tiny bound notebook and her face fell when its customary little pencil was not attached. Her head pivoted, glancing toward the nearest person, a young man, "Pardon me, but could I trouble you for a pen, perhaps?"

But fools gold shines like diamonds in her eyes
Thought we had a million, but baby we got nothing

SUNJATA

may you prosper till you die
prim and pitted black and white

There’s something charming about the way the crowds take the gardens all in. Some in awe, some in bewilderment of the very plants Sunjata had grown up around, thought nothing of, at least once he’d been reprimanded for spending too long within them. It’s still a good distraction for him, pausing by a path that leads down a side of the gardens that leads to one of his favorite flowers, a specifically deep blue hydrangea.

He knows it’s cliche that his favorite color is also his House color, but he can’t help it and he tries very little to care about how it’s perceived. Either way, the young man pauses by a group, head tilted toward the path even as he faces the gardens, trying to listen in on a conversation happening on the other side — a store owner on her first trip to POINT, quietly wondering with her companion (or lover? It’s hard for him to tell) how much the very bulbs of the tulips over there cost.

A small fortune. He wants to tell her before a louder voice reaches him, captures his attention, and he runs toward the woman and lets his steel gaze scan over her briefly as if pinpointing whether he knows her or not as her question is aired. “A pen? Yeah, I have one.” Hands lift to pat at the long coat he wears, finding the pen in one of his various pockets that he retrieves and hands to her with a soft smile gracing his freckled face.

“Here you go.” His voice is distinctly Plate accented, sounding like the resident Arbiter despite how much he tries to conceal it. And yet he can’t help but to wonder what she’s doing with it, but he does look away, back toward the flowers in case it makes her more comfortable. “You can keep it if you need it for a while.” He has more pens at home, a quick drive from the Gardens.

may we dance until it rains
may we drink to hide our shame