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
"But less freedom." It slips out before Savera can catch it, a bitterness that surprises her in the structure of the word. She glares down accusingly at her glass, still half-full of whiskey and dangerous thoughts, before recollecting herself. She isn't bitter, she wants her life, she fought hard to get where she is--
So why does she find herself swayed by Adam, wondering what it might look like, should his rebellious dreams actually bear fruit?
Stop it, no- it's part of the act. She clears her throat and smiles wryly, mirthless, taking another sip. "One or two," the soldier answers, too deadpan to give away whether or not this is true. She shifts, leaning closer toward him, interest in her almond gaze. "What about you? What do you do, besides buying drinks for strangers and dreaming of the day the Plates come crashing down?" They're close enough that she can smell the cigarette smoke on him, can see the shadow of a silver scar underneath his beard.
You were born for these flashing lights You were born for these endless nights
Adam was surprised to hear quite so much bitterness in Savera's voice, his suspicions that she was not from the Drench rising again as he slowly shook his head then scoffed, looking out into the bar. "Uh, yeahhhh, I don't have a right lot of pity for Plate assholes having to follow daddy's rules so they get their pocket money." His eyes, for the most part, kept on the dancers, but he did glance over to try and catch her reaction.
She was sadly reticent to give details of the sex cult parties he was sure actually happened, the conversation almost immediately turning to himself instead. With the way she leaned closer and the general buzz of alcohol and atmosphere, he was tempted to say some stupid line like I take lovely ladies like you home, but he stopped himself. It wasn't quite yet the time to turn into full on flirt-mode. Soon, but not yet.
"I...work in...." Adam's hand waved around in little circles in the air next to him as he tried to think of a good, subtle word for what it was he did. "...Communications. Information. For more details you'd have to pay me." A wink, then he batted another question back to her. "So where in the Drench are you from? Got any family around here?"
Of course it makes her think of Sunjata, caught in the vicious and relentless web of his father's will. How long until all the goodness is gone from her friend, quenched and hammered and polished until all that's left is rigid resentment and a cold sense of duty? How much longer can he continue to lie to himself, to pretend to believe that he has a choice, that anything he is will possibly last when faced with the overwhelming pressure of the Plates?
(and in the back of her mind a voice taunts: how much longer can you?)
It takes her a moment to break out of the thought, to swallow the anger that bubbles in her throat. But she does swallow it, returning from reverie to the moment, taking in Adam's hand-waving with a sinking sense of dread. "Secret information? Sounds dangerous," Savera murmurs, drawing back a little, a little bit of accusation slipping into her tone. "Even if I could afford it- and who pays for that, anyway?"
And then he's asking more questions about her, because damnit, of course he's some sort of information broker, one of the few people who may actually be able to recognize her even down here in the mud. Again Savera raises an eyebrow, letting her irritation manifest as fear. "Why?" she challenges, straightening slightly, a hard glint in her eye. "You need my address, too? Mother's maiden name? Going to sell it to the Enforcers so they can come arrest me for breaking curfew, Mr. Information man?"
You were born for these flashing lights You were born for these endless nights
A lot of people paid for information, as it turned out, but before Adam could laugh and tell Savera that she was asking more questions than most of those paying customers did. Not understanding the sudden shift in the mood, where the fear in Savera's eyes had come from. Taking a sip from his drink as a way of giving himself a second to think, he held out a gently shaking hand to deny the accusations.
"I was uh, doing this thing called getting to know you. Pretty common in the bar." He met her eyes now, one eyebrow raised in a sarcastic look that quickly became a smirk. "Sides, if you're just a Drencher like you say, you haven't got any useful information for me to get." It was becoming increasingly more obvious that was not the case, but he genuinely wasn't that interested in her secrets tonight; this night he was here to relax and drink and ramble.
Assuming he hadn't entirely ruined the goodwill here, Adam leaned in closer, trying to recapture the atmosphere from before. "You don't have to tell me anything. If you want we can just drink, dance and flirt the night away."
If you're a Drencher. Savera's scowl deepens. "'S useful to Enforcers trying to meet their quota," she mutters darkly, quite personally aware of that particular pressure, but acquiesces at last. A tired sigh and a shake of her head; "Sorry, you're right. I'm just a bit on edge from all this shit." She waves her hand to indicate the general all this shit.
Her stupid engagement not the least.
At least he's letting it go. Savera has to consciously make herself relax as Adam leans in again, to coax herself into believing that no really, he's just being trying to flirt. She lets her lip quirk in a smile; "That a promise?"
Without giving him a chance the soldier throws back her drink, then reaches out to snag his hand and drag him toward the fray.
You were born for these flashing lights You were born for these endless nights
"They don't need to know anything about you. Just that you're down here and they can lock you up." Adam shrugged. The enforcers he knew would happily grab just about anyone and ask questions later. With that being the case, he understood being on edge; with an easy smile a wave of his hand, he moved on.
It seemed his romantic charms were working, Adam letting his eyes drop and rise over Savera again as he hummed an agreement - a hum that became a slight yelp as he was suddenly dragged up and over to the dance floor, though he managed to recover his dignity by the time he'd arrived. The music playing was fast and catchy, something you wanted to move to; he began to dance, using the few definite dance moves he knew. A step out, a step in, turn, wiggle arms.
While he hoped he looked amazingly sexy doing this routine, he was more focused on Severa. Regardless of how well she danced, even if it was a floppy nightmare, he shouted above the noise: "You look amazing!"
It is not a floppy nightmare, thank you very much. Savera moves with the almost-too-coordinated poise of someone trained in dance, leading Adam into the fray like water flowing through stones, arms raised, hips swaying, an eddy of the two of them forming as they slow but never stop. She grins up at his compliment, a rare thing, almost feral in its genuineness. "You're not so bad yourself," the soldier calls back, eyebrow raised in amusement at his own, ah, spirited movements.
But he's got confidence, and that goes a long way.
And for a while, it's enough to make her lose herself. Dancing has always been something Savera enjoys, though historically her lessons have been geared toward bettering her combat skills, not personal gratification. Still, Adam will find himself with a talented (if not particularly submissive) partner, her fingers now gracing against his hipbones, now splaying firmly over his chest. She dances with surprising abandon, joy clear in every movement, unafraid and confident. She could keep this up all night - but alas, she shouldn't have been here to begin with, and sooner than perhaps either of them would like Savera's internal clock is screaming that it's nearly pumpkin time.
Standing on tiptoes, the soldier tilts her head up to speak near Adam's ear. "I have to go," she calls over the music, lips close enough to to feel his facial hair shudder under her breath, the smell of sweat heady and tempting, reluctance clear in her voice. Her left hand gives a final press against his chest. "I'll buy next time."
Then she draws away, disentangling from the heady weight of bodies and music to slip out toward the door.
You were born for these flashing lights You were born for these endless nights
The dance was easy to lose himself in, for a moment forget everything in the world around them. The alcohol combined with the loud music created a kind of easy trance, one that was only broken as he winked and grinned in response to her returned compliment. Adam wasn't sure how long they'd been moving together like this when suddenly, Savera announced she had to leave.
"Wait, what-" There was a hand against his chest, a promise he just about caught in his ear, then she was gone, Adam feeling oddly cold where she had been before him. A few sympathetic glances from dancers nearby got him to shake his head and try to forget it, close his mouth where it was still open trying to say something before she'd disappeared.
