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
The expletive snarls through the gunsmoke left behind by Savera's shots, hurtled viciously into the empty shooting range. Three shots, three misses, and she's already sweating, left arm trembling with the recoil of the gun, right slung tight against her chest. Technically she shouldn't be out here at all - it's too early in the healing process, the vibrations will aggravate her injuries, etcetera etcetera.
But what's a little extra physical pain, when the alternative is losing her mind?
She's wearing training attire, a dark red shirt over loose black pants, hair pulled back in a ponytail, a stormcloud of irritation practically visible above her head. The sleeves and pant legs cover the worst of her injuries, but it would be hard to miss the bruising that mottles purple-yellow-green on her right temple and socket. Never mind the massive sling holding her right arm in place.
Even in the shooting range it's hot. Savera scowls as she reloads the handgun, clip fumbling, brows drawn together in concentration. The pistol is heavy at the best of times, and the fact that she's stuck using her weaker hand isn't helping matters. Pain and sweat make her grip falter; she grits her teeth and bites her lip, determined not to let something as trivial as the sun prevent her from accomplishing this task.
A low growl of triumph leaving her as the clip clicks into place. "Gotcha," Savera whispers under her breath, bronze eyes gleaming in the range's low light. It feels a bit silly to be celebrating such a small triumph, but fuck it, gotta take her wins where she can get them, right?
Gunshots were not a rare sound around the training areas of the Enforcers. The pop of bullets firing was a regular background noise, one that Samuel mostly ignored as he went about his day there. However, three quick shots followed by a loud curse? That was not normal of training; with a concerned frown, he had gotten up from the diagram he had been studying and hurried, as much as he could nowadays, towards the shooting range.
He expected to see a group of young Enforcers clustered around a too-cocky injured comrade, not one figure on her own, standing confident and praising herself as he came into the area. Walking around the back of the range, keeping his distance, he waited until some of the smoke had cleared and the noise had truly left the air before asking with a sort of wry humour in his flat voice: "Can you really celebrate that when it took four tries?"
This planet's overrun There's nothing left for you or for me
Savera snaps to attention with the automation of a well-trained soldier, instinctively attempting to raise her restrained arm in salute and then wincing as her shoulder howls in protest. "Sir," she greets, gaze held respectfully around his chin, desperately trying to will away the dark flush of shame that threatens to join the bruising on her face. Of all the people, it had to be him- someone she aspires to, the shining example of a Drencher who Made It. And here she is, quite literally at her worst, celebrating something a four-year-old could do.
What is she possibly supposed to say? The pistol dangles uselessly in her left hand, a literal smoking gun betraying the patheticness she currently feels. She keeps her expression carefully schooled as an appropriate response eludes her tongue. "Of course," she agrees somewhat lamely; and then in a flash of defiance adds: "I'm afraid I am new to shooting one-handed. Perhaps you could provide some advice?"
There was something of an amused look in Samuel's eyes as he watched Savera panic and show her respect, though it didn't reach his lips. Had she been a lesser officer, one which he knew was prone to wasting bullets or time, he would have given out a punishment, but with her he was willing to be a little lax. These were the kind of liberties those that just met him couldn't imagine him giving, but those that knew him knew were all too common.
He hadn't been expecting the question. Samuel paused, tilted his head from side to side, then held out his hand for the gun. "Firearms are not my particular speciality, but..." He took a few steps away, leant his cane against a bench, then stepped back into the targeting grounds, effort taken to make his limp as subtle as possible.
"I've always recommended holding the weapon with your less dominant hand. That way if you caught offguard, cannot use what you are comfortable with, you are prepared." That said, he held it in his left, drawing up the pistol before him. "Single handed, you are less stable - close an eye." Samuel shut his left eye, drew the gun more towards his right side so the dominant side could see for him. "Then you would fire."
No point wasting the bullets. He gave the gun back.
"What has inspired the sudden gun training?" He asked as the pistol exchanged hands again.
This planet's overrun There's nothing left for you or for me
She makes a pointed effort not to notice his limp, dark eyes focused instead on the gun as it slips between their fingers. Never before has she stopped to wonder at the casual way she has come to manage firearms and blades, the way death is passed from hand to hand just as casually as a cigarette or blunt, but now as Samuel raises the firearm all Savera can think about is the way her teammate looked back and smiled just before the world exploded into light and pain, so bright, so terribly, blindingly bright---
And then dark.
Savera blinks as her reality shifts, the memory giving way to reality. She is not in the field; she is standing at attention in the murky range, and Samuel is advising her on how to use a gun, and her brain has to scramble to catch up as confusion roils and settles. It's good advice, and Savera mimics his action when the pistol is returned to her, immediately feeling more confident as her left eye squeezes closed. She does not fire - neither of them is wearing earplugs - but lowers the gun onto the counter before turning back to her superior. "Thank you, sir."
As for what inspired her? Well. A mirthless half-smile tugs at her lips as Savera gestures to her useless arm and the sling that holds it fast. "They said I will need to pass a weapons proficiency test to return to the field, and close combat isn't much of an option right now."
"Though I have been keeping up my sword and knife work, sir," Savera adds, chin jutting out with stubborn pride. "And hope to be deployed again by mid-Kivan."
Never mind that any movement whatsoever inflames the burns along her side, and that the nightmares and flashbacks haven't been getting better. What they cannot see, she cannot be penalized for.
Savera took the gun and aimed it correctly, Samuel nodding approvingly at her form and raising an eyebrow when she did not shoot - whatever was stopping her, clearly it hadn't before he'd arrived. Still, caution was always a good quality to have around weapons and he wouldn't chastise her for it. Going to get his cane again, he gritted his teeth a little at the loud clack it made across the area when it hit the ground before his feet.
"I see...That is, assuming we have left this lockdown then." There was obviously some bitterness in his voice. As much as he had respect for the Plates authority and would never directly question the Arbiter nor any other ruler's decisions, the lockdown was proving to be a long, pointless endeavour. No one from the Drench was going to come forward, no investigations were proceeding and no further disasters had occurred. Why they still kept the city under lock and key was beyond him, especially as it was beginning to affect trade.
It wasn't his decision to make, as he reminded himself regularly: he was just a soldier.
"Do you believe you will still be active in the field after your marriage to Mr. Bratena? I'm sure he will be busy with the duties of the Arbiter; it is common for a spouse to assist in that sort of thing." Sam asked curiously, regarding Savera with his untelling eyes.
This planet's overrun There's nothing left for you or for me
Savera remains at attention as Samuel goes for his cane, but her dark eyes flick up in surprise and alarm at the bitter declaration from her superior. "I was on border guard when I was injured," she explains, hesitation creeping into her voice. "I'd expected to be sent back once I'm cleared." That the lockdown might prevent her from returning to her post had not occurred to the young soldier; she had been so focused on overcoming her physical limitations, she'd neglected to account for sociopolitical barriers.
Speaking of.
She isn't sure if she wants to scoff, cry, or cringe; as it is all her self control allows is a quirk of her lip, something between a rueful smile and a flinch. "My marriage isn't for some time," Savera answers diplomatically, looking, for the first time, directly into Captain Tsinbrog's face. "And Sunjata knows I intend to continue serving even then. My loyalty remains to house Bravlet, and the opportunities they have afforded me, Sir." Something she is sure that he, a fellow Drencher, will understand.
"Well, I hope you can resume your post. For your own sake - this much time free has begun to affect us all poorly, I feel." Sam had still had plenty to do, but the slowing of the city, the lagging time around them was contagious. A sense of waiting had curdled into boredom and a humming, unresolved tension. He hadn't looked at the postings for quite some time, there not having been much point as the limbo continued on and on.
Her answer was typical of a noble woman about to be married, but perhaps not of one marrying the future Arbiter. Samuel raised his eyebrows and tilted his head side to side, considering what to say next; he had never been one to stir drama or delve too far into another's personal problems, but it seemed like Savera very much did not want to marry Sunjata.
With his recent behaviour, he couldn't really blame her.
"Then I am glad to see you training. Though - forgive me, but I assume you are aware Sunjata was arrested recently? Do you know anything about that?"
This planet's overrun There's nothing left for you or for me
