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
In the space between thought and wonder
Memory cannot pull you under
He's thought about it—but anxiety is his master, a cold claw curled around his heart. He can't lose the one thing which matters the most to him. He can't.. Just the thought of all the things which could go wrong is enough to make his stomach knot, skin get cold and clammy as his fingers reflexively tighten on the slack leash. He imagines it in so many different ways- her simply lost, shot, captured, sold or skinned for her splotched hide...
"I don't dare to," he admits faintly, small and quiet. Just a child, afraid of the big, evil world and all the sharp-toothed shadows lurking there. He wishes he could go back to a time where they were just monsters under the bed, and not men with guns and incomprehensible regulations laid down in ink.
He doesn't want to think about it- or about the rising sun. Sweat still trickles down his back. Easier to just watch the mesmerizing movement of her fingers in the soil, and get lost in that. Perhaps if he sinks deep enough into thought this will all end- go away- get solved for him.
He knows it won't, but still...
When she pulls something out of the earth it snaps him out of it, and he blinks a bit like a suddenly awoken cat. It's a.. what? He doesn't know, can't immediately place the dirty object, but it's something - more than just trash. Some sort of.. ornament? He cocks his head slightly to the side. "I wonder what it's story is."
In the moment between breath and dying
You’re free, fearless, you’re flying
She can understand why he is reluctant. The horrible mental image of an Enforcer seeing a loose cheetah running around and deciding to pull the trigger flashed through her mind and she quickly tries to shake it away. Perhaps it is for the best still for Morrocaw to remain on a leash, even if it makes her unhappy to not be able to run. Being happily unknowing about the risks.
Her fingers rub carefully over the dirt to brush as much as she can away from the hairpin, holding it up to look at the dulled silver metal in the sunlight. "Looks like it could have been expensive once. Got little settings for stones, but they've all fallen out. Very fancy for belonging to a picker or something working out here." She turns the hairpin around to have a closer look at it.
"Could be all from stolen to some old gift. It doesn't look like it was dropped recently, though." She holds the pin up for Isanti to see, deciding to trust that he won't snatch it and run away. He did not seem like the kind. Besides, should she be completely wrong about him and this is something he will do, he is a very reconcilable target with his cat and she got people to help her get the pin back if he steals it. Of that she is sure.
The rising sun starts to burn down on her more at this point and she pushes herself to her feet, brushes as much dust and dirt off her clothes as she can. She throws a glance at the sky, then to the shaded part of the Drench in the distance. "Starting to get time to escape the sun again. Want company back? If you are going back yet, that is?"
tomorrow I will come back leader of the whole pack
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.
In the space between thought and wonder
Memory cannot pull you under
It makes him wonder what else is down there- beneath them, entombed in layers of dirt and soil. Artefacts and bones, relics and the corpses of their history. In some ways, it makes him feel small. Insignificant. Despite the rising sun bringing the oppressive heat he has to suppress a small shudder. One day, he will be those bones. How many of the things he's lost or dropped will be somebody's treasure fifty, hundred, two hundred years from now?
Small and insignificant. Anxious all the time. He looks briefly at Morrocaw, sprawled on the ground. Always living in the moment (unless she, too, had anxiety).
Better to think of the hairpin as just that - a hairpin. He closes the door he opened to speculation, leaning forward a little to look at it when it is offered. Ira's right - it is well made, with quality materials though the stones have fallen out. Perhaps not that expensive, then; Isanti feels like at least some of the stones still should've been in place then.
Or they had been pried off at some point, sold for slim profits.
"Perhaps it's something your gemologist friend can help you with," Isanti suggests with a small smile, stepping back a little as she gets up. Follows her gaze. The city - and duties, endless, exhausting duties - beckon. Isanti wants to turn into the wind and run away, but he cannot. He is trapped, and steels himself for the harrowing day to come, one in a series of many harrowing days, and no end in sight.
"Yeah," he says, subdued now, shutting down. "We're heading back, aren't we, Splotches?" And he wiggles the lead, getting Morrocaw's attention. The limber cat lifts her head, gathers her legs and pops up. Despite shaking her fur there's a constant dusty look to her, one he has since long given up on trying to wash out of her. Nodding to indicate that he is ready he falls in beside Ira once she starts to walk.
Back to the city. Back to the grind. Back.. home.
In the moment between breath and dying
You’re free, fearless, you’re flying
His guess is the same as one she'd make: that if the pin was stolen someone most likely took the gems and threw the rest aside. Even though the silver could probably catch at least a few pieces of lasti. Though tiny gems were easier to hide in a pocket than a whole hairpin like this one.
She stores it away and flashes Isanti a grin when he mentions her "gemologist friend". "Perhaps he can! Dunno how many projects he's already busy with, but maybe if I ask nicely." She can ask very nicely. Forcing the stupid grin from her face, she begins to walk after Isanti gets Morrocaw back to her feet.
They make it back into the shade before as the burning rays of the late morning sun starts burning down on the ground for real. At least the Plates were got for one thing; shielding from that. Before they reach the more busy streets, Ira stops and turns to Isanti. "Well, I am off from here. Maybe we'll run into each other some more time. And I'll gladly say Hi to you again." The last part is directed towards Morrocaw and she gives the cheetah a soft smile and a careful chin scratch. With a last wave to Isanti, she turns and quickly disappear into the moving crowd.
{END}
tomorrow I will come back leader of the whole pack
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.
