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
and every demon wants his pound of flesh but i like to keep some things to myself
"You don't have to be here," Savera says flatly, not looking up from the magazine in her lap. It is the only thing she's said to Sunjata since they got to the clinic. If she had it her way nobody would know she was injured at all; to have him here in the private waiting room (a courtesy afforded only due to the connection to Shaju, and one she chafes against) as she tries to ignore the fact that her arm is still stuck in a sling is quite literal insult to injury. Extensive as the damage to Savera's body may be, it is nothing compared to the wound to her pride. She loathes feeling helpless, yet here she is, being passed around from man to man as her fate is determined without her consent.
She's angry at him, too. She'd told Sunjata not to do anything stupid, and yet as soon as she returned from the border what had she heard? That the idiot boy had gotten himself stuck in the Drench (kidnapped, the rumors said, but she has a sinking certainty that it was at least somewhat intentional) and then 'rescued' by Captain Tsinbrog, a man Savera openly admires. Meanwhile she had been deployed to one of the volatile border points and exploded halfway to Dinalla- so yes, she is irritated, and she does not want to be here, and she does not want him here, either.
But a part has to be played.
i like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn
she bought the last line, i'm just the worst kind of guy to argue with what you might find
He’s equally in a terrible mood. Not like he’s mad at her for anything that had happened, instead he’s simply in pain from Shaju’s own punishment, slow to move but fighting through it, doing everything he can to appear as though he’s fine — but if one were to look close enough they might see the makeup preventing the bruises from being seen.
It was a mistake, one that aside from Savera’s internal thoughts, had not been done on purpose, but simply being outcasted by his own Enforcers, trapped down below and unable to come back up until he was better. So he takes a deep breath, glancing over at her as she sifts through the magazine. “We both know that I do.” Comes the quiet rumbling. “At least it ticks off the requirements for this month.” He says with a quiet sigh, stretching out his legs and stubbornly muffling a wince with the movement.
“It’s just a recheck, yeah?” He hadn't been told what it was, simply shoved into the car and told to accompany his fiancée. So here he was.
and for the last night i lie could i lie with you?
and every demon wants his pound of flesh but i like to keep some things to myself
"Glad to be of service," Savera grumbles snidely, irrationally irritated at the idea of being nothing more than a chore to tick off his list. Even though that's what they are what they agreed to- but still. She wants to tell him to fuck on off. She wants to know what happened in the Drench. She wants to ask about the obvious pain he's in.
Pride and her own quiet agony prevent her from doing any of that, the fear of showing weakness warring with the fact that she does, despite herself, give a shit about this man.
Not that the feeling is mutual, she thinks, unfairly.
Instead she turns the magazine page, eyes flicking idly over an add for some new model of microwave that she could not care about less, but is going to examine as though it were terribly important. "Yes," Savera confirms curtly, "To see how soon I can go back to the field." Probably not as soon as she wants - it's hardly been a week - but still. A girl can dream.
i like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn
she bought the last line, i'm just the worst kind of guy to argue with what you might find
The bite to her tone is enough to make him recoil internally, unsure how to get across the point that he knows she doesn’t want to be here. To reinforce the fact that she’d be better off without all the attention he’d caused, without all of the frustration and annoyance that accompanies him. But he can’t quite find the words and instead sinks a bit more into his seat, trying to alleviate some of the pain. “That’s not what I meant.” He decides instead to not elaborate.
So he sits there, waiting, glancing over at the microwave that she stares at and wonders why she’s inspecting it so intently. “I’m sorry that happened.” He says softly, quieter and for her ears only in case there was anyone else listening in. “And I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this on top of it.” He gestures to the room and himself with one hand before it drops into his lap where his hands fiddle with one another as a distraction.
He looks around the waiting area again before taking a deep breath. “I hope it’s soon for you.” Because she’d likely be so much happier out there than glued to his side as they pretend to be right now.
and for the last night i lie could i lie with you?
and every demon wants his pound of flesh but i like to keep some things to myself
He's just so tragic - it makes it impossible to maintain her aggravation with him, especially when she knows that, really, he's done little to earn it. Besides, she's too tired, in too much pain, and she doesn't have enough energy to waste on this grudge. The play they're putting on is hard enough without them being on the same side.
Breathing out a loud sigh, Savera closes the magazine. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, her deep voice tired. She lets her left hand reach out for his, intending to offer a rueful squeeze. "I just hate this." She doesn't elaborate on what, exactly, she hates - doesn't think it's necessary. She leans back in the uncomfortable chair, wincing with the movement in her shoulder. "It was nice, being out of the city. Even if the border points are a mess, at least they're not here."
Here, where everything is scrutinized and everyone wears a fake smile.
At last Savera turns to look Sunjata head-on, letting her dark gaze rake over the poorly covered bruises, the way he holds himself protectively. She's been a soldier long enough to know when someone is injured, and known him long enough to know what some of the cause might be. Raising her hand, she lets her fingers trail gently over a discolored spot on his cheek. "After this I can teach you some better cover-up tricks," she offers, because it seems pointless to ask what happened or are you okay.
i like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn
she bought the last line, i'm just the worst kind of guy to argue with what you might find
The grudge is a tough one to keep up when the true subject of their ire was his father. But it’s become this second nature habit to simply take the fall for it, to be the one that both takes the upset despite his apologies, while simultaneously doing that dance of pretend that they’re in love every second of every day. He’s exhausted, she’s exhausted, and they’d both managed a bit of a break while she’d been away and he’d gotten in so much trouble he’d gotten arrested, through no fault of his own as far as he can tell.
“I hate it too.” He agrees softly, letting the ‘it’ be filled with any multitude of what could be everything they hated. This arrangement, her pain, his father. He watches the magazine close and her readjust with a slight wince, the way she squeezes his hand and he squeezes hers back. To everyone else it would look like a lover comforting the other, which is how it’s supposed to look. To them, it’s a friend comforting a friend in the times of their own personal crises.
His head tilts toward hers as if to whisper something quiet enough nobody else can hear, playing it off like quiet gentle encouragement. “Without all the eyes and expectations?” He asks softly before her hand is rising to brush along a bruise and his eyes shutter closed with the spark of pain it tries to bring. “I’d like that.” Saints knew he’d done a piss-poor job, but he’d been forced to do it as he had before when he’d spoken too brazenly. He opens his eyes again, glancing back over toward her with a soft smile. “I do enjoy the time we spend together, Vera.” Even if the times spent alone were full of back and forth, arguments, points to be said and listened to with their plans.
It was simply nice to be around someone who understood.
and for the last night i lie could i lie with you?
and every demon wants his pound of flesh but i like to keep some things to myself
"Heh." How sad it is, to enjoy forced time in a masquerade- and yet she cannot disagree that their bizarre relationship has become something she values. In a world of cages both gilded and not, it is a rare and valuable thing to be able to be seen, at least a little, and with her own consent.
She is spared having to find more to say when an orderly pops in, looking from his notepad to the apparent young lovers with an indulgent smile. 'Savera Rao?' he confirms even as she stands, glancing to Sunjata. 'Do you want--?'
"No." Savera does not let him finish, and her voice bodes no room for argument. It isn't that she doesn't want Sunjata in the room, exactly - it's that she doesn't want anyone to see her as she will be, vulnerable and exposed with her wounds aired out. A half apologetic look is thrown to her companion as she walks toward the door - "Sorry- do you mind waiting? It shouldn't take too long."
It will, in fact, take nearly an hour. But neither of them know that now.
i like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn
she bought the last line, i'm just the worst kind of guy to argue with what you might find
His steel gaze slips up when the orderly sticks his head out, asking for her as she stands to confirm she is who she is. Sunjata doesn’t miss the side glance, however, and as Savera quickly cuts him off with a no, it doesn’t bother the Bratena any.
Stiffly he reaches out to squeeze her hand before she walks away, murmuring something soft for the show of “I’ll be here when you’re done.” And soon enough she disappears. He expects it to be a short recheck, but the minutes tick on and Sunjata can only flip through the magazines so many times, evading the side eye from the guards that have come with.
He doesn’t know how long it’s been but his body protests the chair he sits in, soreness and twinges of pain that have him standing and moving to a window where he can watch the Kivan sun beat down on the Plates around them. He ends up leaning against it, looking down below for probably a span of ten minutes before sighing and working his jaw, returning to a bench type of seat rather than the chair, if only because he thinks it might help his sore body to not be cramped up and squeezed into a chair.
And as the time continues to pass, he finds himself impatiently watching his watch before he tries to get a receptionist's attention, if only to ask if Savera’s okay back there. She’s been gone for a while, after all.
and for the last night i lie could i lie with you?
