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
i can feel it in my bones, sinking deeper in the overflow,
It's busy and bustling in the Core much to his surprise. Though it shouldn't be, given the lockdown announcement. Everyone's trying to get their things in order even if he knows the curfew is technically only for the outer edges of the Plates and the Drench. Regardless, his father had made the announcement that morning, which only makes his appearance here that much more... Awkward. He tries to stay out of people's ways, tried to remain as far from getting into the middle of anything as possible, stayed away from any with lingering questions if only to slip into the restaurant.
It's high brow, the top of the top - he can afford it, he's a Bratena after all, and it's entirely for show. He's even made a reservation, arriving early to ensure that he does things the proper way, shown quickly to his table, already with a bottle of wine on the table and the typical starting allotment of bread that he hasn't touched yet - not until Savera gets here, at least. That's the whole point of this anyway, Sunjata'd be more than content to just grab some street food passing through the POD on his way home than to get dressed up in a suit and tie and pretend for a night.
But it’s an agreement to keep things pushed off, an agreement he absolutely intends to keep, and he tries to ignore any eyes on him as he sits at the table closer to the center of the room for maximum visibility, checking his watch and adjusting the sleeves of his suit, sipping from one of the glasses of wine. He wonders if he drinks enough of it that it’ll block out everything around him, though he know sit probably won’t, and with it the young Bratena waits for his date to arrive.
can you feel it in your soul? if i'm honest, maybe we're better off alone
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
Anyone who looks at Savera would say she is happy to be here.
She is not.
But it does not much matter if she's happy-- that's just not the point. The point is the show: the dashing young Bratena and his soon-but-please-Saints-not-too-soon-to-be bride, meeting for a romantic meal at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the Core. The two of them will arrive together, looking well-groomed and smiling; the carefully selected paparazzi will snap a couple candid pics. The meal will be delicious, the small talk bearable, and at the end they will go their separate ways and pretend none of this is happening for another couple weeks. It will all go off like clockwork, and Shaju will be appeased. That, in the end, is the point.
The first thing that goes wrong is their timing. Through miscommunication or just poor planning, Savera arrives later than Sunjata, fresh from a patrol. She's managed to change in the back of the cab, glaring daggers at the driver every time their eyes met in the mirror. By the time she steps into the restaurant she is somewhat close to presentable: enforcer gear swapped for loose slacks and a blouse, spiked chain moved from her hair into a neat wrist band, boots exchanged for impractical heels. It's not the outfit that had been selected for her, and as she walks into the restaurant she knows she's underdressed, but fuck it. Sunjata and his father can deal.
Sunjata, of course, is impeccable. Savera smiles as she sees her fiancé, only the clench of her fingers on her thighs to betray her ire. "Sorry I'm late," the soldier murmurs, sinking down into her chair. "Issues on patrol." Her smile is politely apologetic, her fingers steady as she reaches across the table to brush against his hand. But her jaw is tight and her eyes are brittle, and Saints, she needs a drink. "I hope you didn't have to wait long?"
once the waters start to rise and heaven's out of sight she'll want the devil on her team
i can feel it in my bones, sinking deeper in the overflow,
Sunjata wouldn’t dare to complain about what she’s wearing, if he’s being honest. When they first met he was all too familiar with the traditional training uniforms, the way they don’t curve or shape to any kind of body, appearing more like lump of clothing stacked on top of someone until you got any sort of rank. So when she arrives, he stands – it’s the polite thing to do of course, but she’s quicker than he is to reach her chair to pull it out for her, to press a kiss of greeting to her cheek, before she sinks in and he pushes it forward. Instead, she’s swift and quick on her feet as he’s always known her to be, and she settles in quickly with a hand that brushes his own when he sits back down, and he offers her an equally masked dazzling smile in response. “I’m sure the announcement didn’t help matters much.” He offers her quietly, returning the gentle stroke, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he withdraws to grab the bottle of wine.
They’re off to such a great start already.
“I haven’t been. A few minutes give or take. They shifted the reservation up.” And they had known just a bit too late. But, as if reading her mind, he pours her a glass of wine, tops off his own, and glances at the menu as he tries to fight through the awkwardness of this. It was easier before when there weren’t eyes on them, when they were young and hopeful that maybe it would work out only to realize that they very much, in fact, were not the ones for each other. And yet here they are. “Would you be opposed to getting a stronger drink with me before we order the entrée?” He asks, quietly – for her ears only – as he drags his gaze away from the menu to try and read her face.
can you feel it in your soul? if i'm honest, maybe we're better off alone
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
She wants to scoff at his attempt at prettiness, the way he half-moves to pull out her chair. She knows she should let him be the gentleman, but she simply isn't in the mood. And her sense of ire isn't improved when he brings up the announcement - as if it his entitled prick of a father hadn't already done enough to make their lives hard.
But this is hardly the time for political commentary. "Thank you," Savera murmurs smoothly as Jata pours her wine. She raises the goblet in a half-toast and bringing it to her lips, the ruby liquid sweet as blood against Savera's tongue. A dark brow at his suggestion of something strong, but she inclines her head, fingers running down the wineglass's stem. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Sunjata?" the soldier wonders wryly, before turning to flag down a nearby waitress who all but runs to their side. "Whiskey, please. On the rocks. Top shelf."
It's Shaju's credit, after all. Might as well get the best.
And here we see the beginning and end of Savera's social graces. Saints, but it's awkward, sitting here across the table from a man boy she used to think she loved and now isn't sure she knows. She waits for Jata to order his drink, praying to saints she doesn't trust that appetizers will come quickly and give her something other than the day's irritation to fill her mouth.
once the waters start to rise and heaven's out of sight she'll want the devil on her team
i can feel it in my bones, sinking deeper in the overflow,
How can he not bring it up when it’s all everyone’s been talking about, when it’s the reason that their timing got off, when it’s the partial reason he’ll be shoved down under the plates, far enough that even Shaju won’t be able to see him daily any longer. And truthfully, Sunjata doesn’t know what’s worse. At least he’s come to learn his enemies above and how they go about things. The drench is unfamiliar at best to him these days.
Regardless, he lifts his glass in a toast as well, sipping from it before she starts to flag the waiter down. “Is it rude to say that we both could use it?” To everyone else the smile granted to her is charming, but to her she’d see the crack in it, the nervousness. He doesn’t know her anymore as much as she knows him, and what could have sparked a good friendship from their awkward breakup was only made worse by the first of Shaju’s announcements.
“The same for me, thank you.” He offers to the waiter, following the ingrained advice of his youth and pays little attention to the waiter until he’s left and Sunjata’s steel lands on his fiancée again. “They’re stationing me in the Drench starting tomorrow for lockdown patrol.” Which is a quiet roundabout way of saying that they need to act the parts because he isn’t sure how long it’ll be before the next dinner, and they have an agreement to uphold.
But before he gets much of a chance to delve further, appetizers arrive on the heels of their whiskeys, on tiny plates which likely cost an absurd about of lasti, alongside the bottle which Sunjata knows costs quite a bit. But he’s milking it too, truth be told, and he prefers to delve in wholly when it comes to spending his father’s money.
can you feel it in your soul? if i'm honest, maybe we're better off alone
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
Have an original though, Sunny-- but she doesn't say it aloud, letting what once may have been a friendly jab fall to ash on her tongue. For all she knows he doesn't want to be here either, Savera cannot help but blame him a little for this. Sins of the father, sins of the son. Nobody is exempt from blood.
Her least of all.
Her mask does slip a little at his reveal, dark eyes widening in surprise. "Full time?" She wants to say more but the waiter is back and wielding a tray of strangely foamy appetizers that make the whiskey seem like a meal. Savera smiles graciously, her fork already poised to take a bite - if there's one thing that can distract the young soldier from her focus, it's food.
The orange fluff smells vaguely of saffron and oysters, and oh yes, it tastes it too. The skepticism on her face quickly turns to pleased surprise; "Oh, fuck that's good," she all but moans, attention already turning to the blue one.
Her stomach grumbles mortifyingly in response.
once the waters start to rise and heaven's out of sight she'll want the devil on her team
i can feel it in my bones, sinking deeper in the overflow,
He can’t have an original thought, not up here, not aloud. He’s just another one of the noble kid drones, going on and on in repetition of what his parents say. It’s part of what makes this so awkward for him, to want to be able to have casual conversations but having everything but when there’s so many eyes on them. At least they’ll been well seen, the press will have their fun, and it keeps the arrangement they’ve agreed to satisfied long enough.
“Yes, full time.” He hums taking a much too big of a sip of the whiskey than is likely good for his empty stomach, but he’s quick to take his fork and take a bite of the appetizer, swallowing it down with a low rumble of agreement. “It’s the highest priced one on the menu.” As if it explains why it’s so good, but he leans a bit closer toward her across from her and flashes her an amused smile. “So I thiiiiink that I’m going to get the most expensive entree.” He tips her a wink, before he draws back to take another sip of the whiskey, glancing at the menu.
can you feel it in your soul? if i'm honest, maybe we're better off alone
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
It doesn't take her long to down the rest of her appetizer, whiskey all but forgotten as the woman savors her food. The Savera who opens her eyes post-snack is a slightly softer beast, her anger briefly blunted by the flavors on her taste buds. A flick of her slender finger pulls the last of the saffron foam from her plate; she pops it in her mouth with a hum "Mmm, feeling indulgent, are we?" Savera smirks, leaning forward to read his menu. An intimate motion to anyone watching, but it serves a second purpose.
"How long?" With their heads this close the soldier can speak softly enough to not be heard, barely moving her lips. She reaches out to turn the menu, fingers fluttering over his, eyes still trained upon the page. "It's not going to be safe down there, Sunjata. Especially for you." She's still smiling, but her voice is laced with a rare note of genuine concern.
once the waters start to rise and heaven's out of sight she'll want the devil on her team
i can feel it in my bones, sinking deeper in the overflow,
“Might as well when it isn’t my lasti, hm?” He rumbles back to her, remaining where he is as she leans close, letting her look over his menu as they get a more private moment to speak. And behind the shy smiles and the barely moving lips, he moves his hand so that he might be able to trace his fingertips along the back of her hand while she looks, another move that seems to suggest it’s for show albeit only between the two of them, believable to everyone else.
The concern in her words does make his stomach uneasy, but with the whiskey settling his nervousness, he hums a soft sound of unsurety. “Not sure yet. However long the Arbiter decides.” Probably long enough to either get him injured for doing something stupid or long enough he comes back a different man. Ha. As if.
“I think that’s partially why he’s doing it. Another lesson of sorts, but, he’s once again hoping for a result I can’t give him.” The smile falters a slight amount, Sunjata readjusting to down the rest of his whiskey and his appetizer, before the hand covering her own moves so his palm is upright, as if asking for her hand. “So it’s my last night here for a while.” Surely the daytime he’d be back, but it was different.
can you feel it in your soul? if i'm honest, maybe we're better off alone
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
"You're too good for this life." It's said so softly even he may not hear it, sadness and bitters in a drink that goes down hard. She leans back as he does, raising her whiskey to her lips. The faintest line has formed between Savera's brows, signs of a deeper, complex discontent. It makes her sick to think of him being sent down there, soft as he is - not because of the Drench and its darkness, but because it means he's one step closer to becoming another sharp-edged shade. The kind of man who drowns instead of dreaming, who yearns so desperately to feel sunlight that he casts a shadow on the rest of the world.
So she slides her hand against his, though as far as anchors go it doesn't have much strength. Savera was born half-sunken, with one foot in the mire. That's what makes them different, really, and what makes them the same: both of them keep fighting, but Savera fights with her head, not her heart.
And it's that practicality that allows her to react with such poise as another waiter appears, taking their orders: a rich seafood stew for the soldier, and "Whatever the chef recommends," for her date. Her smile is dazzling, the smirk she throws Sunjata smoothly orders for him bright. She trusts the waiter to understand that yes, this means please bring whatever costs the most.
Her thumb is tracing over his lifeline, a subconscious, almost affectionate act. "How would you like to spend your last night on the Plates?" Savera questions, a subtle emphasis on the you. Because whatever he wants, it surely isn't this: being here, pretending to give a shit about her, while the world gawks on like they're creatures in a zoo.
once the waters start to rise and heaven's out of sight she'll want the devil on her team
