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
father, father, let me figure it out i'm gonna swim in the thick of it now, i can't even tell the difference now
The simple act of the thin blanket around his shoulders is enough that Sunjata relaxes a fraction, shoulders drooping with a huff of a sigh. He hadn’t realized Nate had meant to take the medicine with water, but it was too late now as the taste lingers on his tongue. And all he can offer is a quiet little noncommittal sound of understanding.
The hand on his knee is warm and he’s drawn to it like it’s a flame and he’s never been so cold in his life. So much so that his gaze focuses on it rather than Nate’s face. “If it’s too long, maybe I’d be better off down here.” Comes the quiet whisper, barely processing Nate’s offer, the clear fear in the tense muscles of his shoulders of whether even going back up would be worth it for him, and Nate’s given him at least a temporary offer here.
And for once, the fear of his father outweighs the fear of the Drench and everything else he’d been so terrified of.
my head feels too loud sometimes like a monsoon in the summertime
Sighing as he sinks back into the couch, Nate lifts his free hand to rub at his face. It’s not his place to comment, he has to remind himself, as if Sunjata is somehow unaware of the Bratena patriarchs reputation. Especially in the Drench, where folk tend to look more fondly on mold growing up out of the drains.
A slap sounds in the air between them, gentle, but still loud enough to be intentional. Nate, patting at his shoulder, offering comfort on Sunjata’s grounds. It seems like the easiest way to offer, especially right now with his decision making skills… lacking. “you think you can make something up when you go back?” Some bullshit story about fighting through the mud for however long he was gone for, dreaming of his place in the sun the whole while.
Nate fishes a half done smoke out of a makeshift ashtray on the table beside the couch and lights it, settling in for at least a little bit longer. And coughing roughly as the stale smoke reminds him why he’d left so much of it behind when he’d stubbed it out.
you can’t drag me down like a beast underwater with no soul
father, father, let me figure it out i'm gonna swim in the thick of it now, i can't even tell the difference now
Sunjata inhales a long slow sigh as he places out the options before himself, his brain at both ends of exhaustion and anxiety to keep him rebounding between the two as Nate pats his shoulder. The blanket draws in a little tighter, the question taking a lot longer to answer than he’d originally thought it might. Sure, he could come up with some crazy story about how he’d suffered terribly down here (he’d probably be better off for it, but Sunjata’s never been truly smart with everything he does despite his best intentions), so by the time he actually answers, Nate’s halfway dying from the stale smoke of the old cigarette.
It's a strange sort of balm, though, reminiscent of the night he’d paid Nate back for helping him out. He wonders if he does go back topside, if that smell would still be comforting. “I’m terrible at lying.” He admits, bluntly honest for once, half burying his chin into the blanket now as if it’s something he has to shield from. He’s already half closed off with the way he doesn’t meet the doctor’s eyes, instead choosing to stare at some stray thread in the blanket as if that’ll pluck it out for him. “Realistically I can just… Omit certain parts. Just tell him his shitty hounds of enforcers didn’t take the time to realize who I was.” He half winces as he says it, a blanketed hand rising to rub at his temple.
“I, uh, wasn’t really supposed to be there anyway. So it’s not going to be great either way.” Steel eyes close as he massages his temple, as if it might bring him a better answer alongside the thundering pulse of his heart that throbs in his brain. “Trouble for that, trouble for somehow not proving myself hard enough to not get put in the tram, trouble for taking so long to come back, trouble for turning my phone off.” Which he’d done to keep from getting tracked, to keep from leading anyone to his location. “I’ll be stuck on POINT for a while, probably…” Forever, more than likely, if Shaju had his way.
Or maybe if he was lucky, his father’d grow exhausted of him and send him off to Garanenz with his mother. He won’t be lucky. He never is.
my head feels too loud sometimes like a monsoon in the summertime
“Mmmm.” It’s commiseration, despite the way Nate’s still horse voice makes the sound seem more judgemental. Blindly reaching out the side for a fresher smoke, the doctor works his jaw and tries to choose his next few words carefully. “If they forced you down, isn’t that their fault and not yours?” Even as he says it Nate knows it’s not worth it, not with a man like the Arbiter.
The fingers on Sunjata’s shoulder squeeze gently, and rub a deep calming circle into his skin. It’s something of a mercy when Nate finally turns, distracting his gaze and his teeth hand both with actually looking for his smokes, and not turning back until he has a fresh one lit and sitting between his lips, the smoke heavier and more pungent than a traditional roll. “So uh… if going back is gonna be so bad, what’s the point?”
As soon as the words leave him a voice (that sounds suspiciously like Adam) chastises him in his head. Why would he encourage this, make the suggestion of an offer of housing the pup? It’s nothing but trouble on him, and everyone around him, and he’s worked too damn hard to throw it all away for a relative stranger. A long drag quiets the thoughts, Nate turning just in time to exhale a cloud over Sunjata while he waits for the response.
you can’t drag me down like a beast underwater with no soul
father, father, let me figure it out i'm gonna swim in the thick of it now, i can't even tell the difference now
There’s something about the tone of the ‘mmm’ from Nate that has him quieting, keeping his gaze elsewhere, even if it’s at odds with how Nate rubs soothing circles into his shoulder. It’s mixed signals to him and he struggles with whether or not he should even speak as freely as he has been. So he spends the time working his jaw, chewing at the inside of his cheek until it’s raw, before he figures out an answer.
It’s easier when Nate doesn’t look at him, he finds. “Yeah, but then it turns into why I didn’t come back sooner. Why didn’t I force them into realizing who I was.” He can find a reason for anything because he’s so used to his father doing the very same thing. So he sighs, reaching up with the arm that’s free to run through his hair by the time Nate’s attention returns to him.
And then the next question is aired and his steel gaze looks through the wafts of smoke hanging between them to simply stare at Nate. It’s an offer, an out, but it’s also messy and he doesn’t know which would be better.
He doesn’t want to be a burden. “Because it might be worse if I don’t.” Comes the quieter admission. Perhaps his father might deign to care enough to send enforcers down into the Drench to search for him. Perhaps he’d be worth all of the drama for the example to be made.
my head feels too loud sometimes like a monsoon in the summertime
Nate’s lips purse at the laundry list of reasons the excuses don’t matter. It’s been some time since he’d been under the thumb of someone who considered every transgression inexcusable, and it isn’t something he misses. There’s no helping a situation like that though, no solution to offer, so Nate puffs on his smoke before holding it out towards the other man.
A slow nod bobs his head, the gesture looking more like the work of an enthusiastic but unskilled puppeteer than a natural motion. “Well uh,” Nate’s fingers squeeze the others shoulder again, “you can have the couch til the trams open up again.” It’s enough to soothe the voice in his head, an outstretched hand without the long term danger.
“Anything else hurting before I go to bed?” Nate asks, stifling a yawn. All that exhaustion that had been eluding him before Sunjata had arrived hits him like a road train, and it’s clear he’s hoping to be able to crawl in beside Adam. And so long as he gets that negative, he’ll wrap Sunjata in a one arm hug and shuffle away, drawing a curtain around the bed.
you can’t drag me down like a beast underwater with no soul
