The full seasonal event can be read here! Below are the main seasonal items for quick reference:
1. A thread reacting to the season's weather in some ways.
2. A thread in the part of the city your character doesn't live in!
3. A thread relating to your vocation.
Of The Season
Quote
"Tell Dr. Nate that Gale sent you, and he still owes me for the mushrooms. Except that it takes you a while to reach the clinic, and by the time you do your fever is spiking, and so instead of the requisite message you instead tell the poor soul who greets you that 'A gale'a m'shrooms sent me cus'a my hands.'" - Zephyr in Oh help me, please doctor, I'm damaged
“There hasn’t been.” Sunjata murmurs softly, a small frown crossing his face as he thinks about it a bit more. The last time he was up here — granted, was awhile ago — there’d only been talk of frustrations, not progress toward it. He imagines little else has happened since the event that occurred at the Masquerade. So he works his jaw, unable to offer more help to Cian over it, while luckily for him the milkshakes arrive.
Perhaps his gaze is a little bit intense to see what Cian thinks, which isn’t a whole lot. He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, really. So Sunjata busies himself with his own milkshake, taking a large sip once he’s finished the cherry atop the whipped cream.
His gaze does find Cian again, though, at the question aired. “Yeah, but I was sort of banking on the fact they wouldn’t recognize me like before.” He shrugs a shoulder. “They would’ve stopped me before I got off.” Or so he thinks. Maybe it was part of a long game to see just when Sunjata deigned to go home. He’d tried to be as secretive as possible, but even that failed at times.
He takes another sip from the glass as Cian’s worry comes to light, the waitress at the front of the diner pointing toward the back to a group of people hidden by the curve of the counter, and immediately Sunjata’s stomach sinks. “Fucking Saints.” He curses under his breath. “Go, Cian.” To where he doesn’t know, but somewhere other than here. A bathroom maybe? Some place hidden?
Cian tries some more of the milkshake and slowly starts to get more used it it. Even if he wants to stay loyal and biased towards his home, Sunjata might be in the right. The milkshake is very good. It is a better breakfast than nothing. Maybe. The sugar might wake him up a little, at least. If he is lucky.
He nods, waving away his slightly paranoid thought about the Enforcers coming for Sunjata. "You're probably right. I am probably just tired and anxious by default right now." He huffs in a quiet chuckle and sips some more through the straw. Comfort-drinking that milkshake.
But then Sunjata's demeanor changes and Cian lifts his head with a frown, confusion starting to rise once more. He looks around and half stands up from the booth to see what that suddenly startled the other man. "Go where... Why..." Come on, did he fucking jinx it?! His eyes move towards the front door. Too far? A door nearby, perhaps indeed a bathroom or even a staff exit if one is lucky, catches his attention and he shuffles out of the booth and heads for it. As fast as he can walk without looking too suspicious. Or at least he tries.
The reader of this text has standing permission for responsible powerplay and to use physical/magical force against this character. Instant killing and permanently maiming not included.
It’s a shame, really. If they’d kept casual, this could have been avoided. There are games to be played, and the proper move here is to make as few ripples as possible. If no one knows anything, nothing can be used against you.
But Cian moves to flee and is immediately followed by stomping boots, a sharp blow slamming the back of his knee to bring him down. A knee in his back keeps him pinned and a boot on his face keeps him quiet while the other two enforcers drag Sunjata out of the booth and pin him the same way.
Silence more stifling than the slowly closing grip of the days heat permeates the diner, sharp footfalls seeming to echo around the room. The man stops before Sunjata and drops into a crouch, gold stripes on his collar and blue tassels on his shoulder marking him as one of the Arbiters inner circle. He grabs Sunjata’s jaw, staring at his face with a sneer of disdain. “Saints help you boy.”
Standing as suddenly as he’d dropped and turning, the commander whistles sharply, prompting the enforcers to drag both Cian and Sunjata to their feet and frog march them out of the diner and towards the DEPOT.
He should have known better. He really should have fucking known better. But he didn’t, and at this point he already knew it was going to be bad for him, he’s just saddened at the fact he’d roped Cian into if. Someone who didn’t do anything. Someone he considered an actual friend unlike the stuck up assholes he’s used to who live on POINT, trying to get an in with the Arbiter’s son.
He doesn’t get much of a chance to see how Cian fairs as he’s dragged out of the booth and taken to the ground, a grunt of pain leaving him as the boot to his back presses against the wound at his ribs, and frustrated steel rises to meet the commanders face, one he knows all to familiar, the one that comes and goes between Bratena Manor and wherever fucking else he goes, regularly.
Sunjata clamps his jaw shut, exhaling a sharp sound as they’re lifted and taken out of the diner, his head down to prevent any looks as they’re put into a protected and concealed tram to get to DEPOT.
Had he been smart, he would have stayed in the booth and kept his head low. Stayed out of everything. But Sunjata's reaction and urging him to go had made Cian panic a bit and just acted before thinking. As usual
He has time to register the steps behind him, then before much else the sharp pain shoots up his leg and he finds himself on the floor. A ragged gasp is the only thing leaving him as the knee connects with his back and he was just about to open his mouth to stupidly curse at the enforces when the boot meets his face. Sunjata is out of his field of vision, but Cian hears the noise. Then silence... The steps coming and an unfamiliar voice.
The following whistle cuts through him like a blade of ice and he is simply too terrified to struggle when dragged to his feet and marched out the door. He keeps his head low while his mind is spinning in a blinding panic and confusion. The tram door close behind them and all he can do is to stare at the floor and remembering to breathe.
{END}
The reader of this text has standing permission for responsible powerplay and to use physical/magical force against this character. Instant killing and permanently maiming not included.
