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
if you want i could tell the truth that this life takes its toll on you
It isn’t exactly the encounter he expects, though none of this lockdown really has been so far. A drencher falling from a window above him? Just another checkmark of yeah, so that happened written off in his memories. Regardless, it looks like it fucking hurt, and the breathless gasp that leaves Nate is one that has him focusing a bit more intensely, even as Nate pushes himself up.
Now, he doesn’t really know much aside from the basic first aid – mostly for companions and partners within the squad, never for the drenchers, but nobody was around and even if they did show back up, being this close meant he could in theory play it off as some kind of forced apprehending into the drencher’s home, so, he takes a deep breath, a scent of sandalwood and cedar radiating from him in this close proximity to the other man.
So against his better judgement, and because perhaps he wants to be burned by this – great at shooting himself in the foot, that is – he lowers himself to one knee to get more on the same playing field. “If they come back, play along. Understood?” He asks, steel trying to scan Nate’s face as he reaches out with a gloved hand, the thin blue line adorning his uniform more visible in the neon lights this close to the other man. “Where’s it hurt most?” He asks, eyeing the way Nate’s cradling himself.
i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul so in the morning i'm bulletproof
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
Pain and panic coagulate into a hard scab of anger, the easy grin on Nate’s face replaced by something that’s more comparable to a cornered animal. Those blue eyes grow sharper as the enforcer draws nearer, Nate’s lips and nose twitching as he fights to not simply tell the other man to fuck off.
“It’s fine.” He ends up hissing instead, already trying to straighten himself out and shuffle back towards his (fuck, locked) door. In his haste though, Nate makes the mistake of setting his injured hand down again, the weight he tries to lean back onto it making his eyes water immediately. This… isn’t happening alone.
Newly shiny eyes flick up, then down the alley, and finally Nate sighs, and settles his gaze back on the strange steel eyes enforcer. “Just fuckin’ help me inside.” He demands, refusing to even try to neuter the agitated huff of his tone.
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
if you want i could tell the truth that this life takes its toll on you
“Doesn’t seem fine.” He mutters quietly, enough to once again keep the mask from modulating and projecting his voice as well, letting more of that accent slip through. Still, he keeps his hands off until Nate accepts the help, not wanting to start a scuffle here just because of his close proximity. After all, he only wants to help, and can’t blame the Drencher from feeling like there’s an alternative motive underneath.
But he heaves a soft sigh regardless, rolling back on his heels as Nate moves, gives up, then asks for help, and Sunjata’s wise enough to make no comment on the shine of his gaze — all too familiar with that to a personal degree — but he does end up moving to better help Nate in the attempt to get indoors. “Door’s locked, so, I could break in or lock pick it.” He only remembers it’s locked because it’s one of the doors his fellow enforcers previously checked. And the options of getting into it are pretty limited, unless Nate had other ideas. Something which he leaves open for him to decide.
i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul so in the morning i'm bulletproof
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
“Fuck do you know?” Nate’s voice is still all sharp barbs, embarrassment sticking its thick fingers into the complicated cocktail of his simmering emotions. “You a doctor? Huh?” The enforcer isn’t even allowed a chance to answer before Nate’s sneering continuation comes. “No you’re fuckin’ not. I am. I’m fine.”
Despite the anger though, Nate still reaches up to grab the enforcers shoulder and drag himself back to his feet, his face twisting as he does and pulls on brand new aches. “S’locked cause of your stupid shit, I gotta–” There’s another sharp, irritated huff as a hand reaches for the pocket of a jacket that he is not wearing. One that is sitting, helpfully, on a hook beside the door so he doesn’t forget it before he leaves.
It is only a shred of common sense that keeps Nate from screaming out curses, his eyes narrowed on steel while he thinks. “I’ve seen enforcer lockpicking. There’s a… there’s a backdoor, but you need to cut down and around.” His good hand comes up to gesture loosely down the direction he’d sent the rest of the pck running down, with no indication how far they’d gone or when they’d be back. “You could lift me back up to the window.” The suggestion is mostly a joke, nothing else coming to mind but Nate’s lips itching with the urge to say something, anything.
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
if you want i could tell the truth that this life takes its toll on you
There’s the audible click from the mask where Sunjata’s jaw shuts tightly in the face of the realization that Nate’s a doctor, as if some kind of sheepish embarrassment overcomes him, keeps his mouth shut and lets Nate continue his tirade.
At least until the man’s got him by the shoulder, hauling himself up and Sunjata dips a little with the adjustment, moving to help him stand. Nate’s bigger than he is, even with the faux size of the body armor that covers his body. He’s still not quite built enough to fill it out.
“I can do it differently.” He says as if Nate’s barbs have nicked a sensitive spot. But the grumbling stops in time for him to peer at the window and the heights between them, working his jaw underneath the mask. “Is that going to work?” He asks, peering at the larger man, looking back at the window, trying to figure it out mentally before continuing with the plan.
i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul so in the morning i'm bulletproof
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
“Differently, huh? Does that mean you’re just gonna bust the window, and not the hinges?” There is a logical part of Nate that knows he’s being unfair, another part that knows it’s unwise to snap and snarl at a friendly hand, especially when it comes wrapped up in wolfs clothing, but neither can speak louder than the rumble of emotion.
Finally Nate’s hard mask of annoyance breaks, his brows pinching as he looks up at the window, then back at Sunjata, then up once again. There had been little muscle underneath the imposing costume, and truth be told Nate is less than sure of his own ability to haul himself back through the window, especially with his arm twisted and aching like it is.
Working his jaw, Nate finally sighs, and fixes Sunjata with a hard stare, his gaze intense and sharp, all but skewering the other man. “Don’t fuck up my door.” He orders, before pushing off the other to lean against the door frame instead, closely supervising every move Sunjata makes.
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
if you want i could tell the truth that this life takes its toll on you
“For Saint’s sake, no.” He snaps suddenly but makes no actual physical movement from the frustration. He remains as a crutch of sorts for the larger man, waiting until he’s given the explicit permission to do whatever Nate thought best. He just hopes it’s a much easier one than trying to haul him into a window, not wanting to deal with any fallout from that when the rest of his squad returns.
So he does release a sigh of relief when the offer is given, told not to fuck up the door, which only receives a roll of his steel eyes as he steps toward the door once Nate’s pulled away. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a little kit he keeps tucked away, and kneels down on one knee as he starts to work the lock with the pick.
It takes a little bit longer but eventually the knob turns and he tucks everything away back into the box, opening the door and offering a little annoyed gesture of there you go. “Look at that, the door’s just fine.”
i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul so in the morning i'm bulletproof
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
It isn’t often he gets the chance to be this close to an overseer without feeling it under his collar, and it’s an opportunity Nate means to take full advantage of. He watches the tools the other man uses, the precise way his hands move, the way his body armour and uniform are a little more beat up than usual. It’s a puzzle, one Nate isn’t necessarily in the mood for right now, even as he slips pieces in his pocket to muse over later.
The latch gives under the enforcers hand, the door swinging open traitorously before them. Nate sneers at the opening before stepping through, looking at the door like he doesn’t quite trust that’s it’s actually open and whole before turning back to face the enforcer, standing just close enough that he towers over the other man. “Guess it is. Works for everything, huh?” And with that, it slams shut, the sound the latch (and a handful of other locks) rattling from inside before steps retreat, the upstairs window slamming shut a moment later.
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
