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
At this point, Adam had almost forgotten the curfew was in place. He'd never obeyed it in the first place, had simply laughed when he'd first heard of it; so far he'd gotten away with lurking around on rooftops and remembering last minute to veer away when Enforcers came near. So much successful escaping made one start to feel invincible.
A lot of people were scared to spend time in the Chokes beyond what was necessary, but he'd been there since he was very young - the background sounds of muggings and drug-fueled alleyway trysts were basically relaxing music at this point. Sometimes the glitz and light of the Neon Alley got too much, too fake, and it was best to retreat into the real Drench for a bit. Especially later at night, when it grew quiet enough to be almost relaxing on the less-trodden streets, the dark dim light of lamps only illuminating a few feet either direction.
He was not paying attention to the time, not having seen an Enforcer in hours. Cupping a hand around the end of his joint as he lit it, protecting it from the slight breeze, Adam leaned back to enjoy the cheap acrid taste of the smoke, staring up at the Plates underside above from a dirty and once-solid bench that now looked ready to fall apart any instant.
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
Sunjata is free, and as a result Savera's cage has only grown tighter.
Savera is engaged to the Arbiter's son. It is enough to put anyone under a spotlight. But now the son is missing, and the spotlight has turned into a microscope as everyone debates sotto voice: Did she know? Did she help him?
She's one of them, after all.
Savera tries to shrug it off. Hard, when her shoulder still aches from her injury the previous season; harder, when the colleagues who once tried to curry her favor now look upon her with open hostility and disdain. Sewer rat, they call her when they know she's listening. He knew she was trash, that's why he left her behind. It's hard, it's all hard, and there is no relief from it: not in work, not in play, not in the friendships she doesn't have.
Savera knows that when life gets hard, the only thing to do is become harder.
So harder she becomes.
Tonight she is patrolling alone - not safe nor protocol, but her lot more and more of late, as those she is paired with find excuses to leave her on her own. Curfew is in full effect, and she has already sent some stragglers on their way when she encounters a familiar figure sprawled out on a bench. His appearance tickles the back of her mind, something she can't quite place... but instead of softening at the familiarity she bristles, unreasonably bothered by his apparent nonchalance, his blatant disregard for the law of the land.
From the shadows Savera steps forward, armored and armed, baton already drawn. "You," she barks through the gunmetal mask, dark eyes glaring like embers in the night. "Hands where I can see them. It's after curfew."
once the waters start to rise and heaven's out of sight she'll want the devil on her team
Adam was long gone into a smoke-hazed trance when the figure came out of the shadows - his instincts should have been sharper after a childhood in the Alleys, but the ease of the last Seasons had begun to caught up with him and soften his once sharp edges. Taking his arms from behind his head and sitting up, his only reaction upon seeing the Enforcer was a soft "Shit." mumbled under his breath.
It was rare he actually had to deal with officers face to face. Usually, he simply avoided them, ducking into dark spaces or running over rooftops until they were out of sight. Trying to not let fear bubble up in his throat (he was Adam Pikely, he was cool, he was not scared of Enforcers) he held up his hands and tried to adopt an easygoing smile.
"Hey, hey. Hands not doing anything suspicious." The voice itched a familarity in the back of his mind, but distorted by the mask it was hard to tell if he specifically knew this particular Enforcer. "Didn't notice the damn time. I'll be heading in now then." A slightly sarcastic polite smile was given as he hoped that was enough.
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
As she draws nearer it becomes clear that this man is less than a foot talllarge - or at least lanky, enough that she knows a fight may not go quite the way she wants. Still Savera steps forward as the man sits up, slight stature augmented by a steel spine, the confidence and poise of a soldier. It doesn't hurt that she has a gun on her hip, which she is not afraid to casually flash as she comes to stop just to his right, the baton swinging between them.
Of course he was aware of the gun and the baton - Adam had his own gun on his hip, though compared to the kind of gear an Enforcer was equipped with it may as well have been a toy. This was a situation that could get dangerous quickly; no one would care about a Drencher dying in the Chokes, that was just another day.
Not letting the fear take hold of him yet, he raised his eyebrows at the accusations. "Public intoxication? Last time I checked it wasn't illegal to smoke in the street and I ain't drunk." There was a temptation to breathe on the Enforcers stupid mask so she could smell his (probably not very nice, but non-alcoholic) breath, but he resisted. "Besides, if you're arresting for that now, you're gonna have half the Drench in holding tomorrow."
It wasn't exactly a secret that many down there resorted to chemical means to lift their moods.
"Instead of you having to do whatever paperwork, why can't I just go home and sleep in my own bed? You go home and be happy you-" Don't say anything about sucking the Arbiter's balls. "-Upkept the peace, or whatever."
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
"So you're telling me there's nothing in that but tobacco?" Savera drawls rhetorically, nudging the joint with her baton. She hates this work, and his obstinance isn't doing anything to improve her mood. All Savera wants is for him to come quietly, so she can process him and move on with her night.
(That, or for him to give her an excuse to beat him senseless - something she has yet to do on the job, but with all the pressure on her just now she's beginning to understand where regular enforcers may get their violent urges.)
But no, he refuses to make it easy, and the soldier's patience is thin. And so instead of letting him wax poetic Savera interrupts the argument with a language she hopes he understands: her baton, pushing up against his chin in an attempt to shut that yammering mouth. "Enough," she growls, other hand yanking free the regulation handcuffs on her belt. "Stand up. Turn around."
The cuffs clink in her hand.
once the waters start to rise and heaven's out of sight she'll want the devil on her team
"Uh..yeah, actually." It was a surprise to him to, but this time it genuinely was just something to smoke. While Nate could give him an amount of extra ingredients pro bono, there were times where the doctor couldn't afford to and Adam certainly didn't have the Lasti to go purchasing his own. "Shit, try it yourself."
Stupid thing to say, but he couldn't resist.
He did shut up at the feeling of the cold baton on his chin, more out of surprise than respect, staring down with clearly surprised eyes. It had been a while since he'd been in such a direct confrontation with an Enforcer - he'd forgotten what little jobsworth shits they could be. "...Really?" Adam asked with a sigh as he stood and turned around, the eye roll clear in his tone even if she didn't see it.
Of course, there was the undercurrent of fear, the hot streak of panic in his chest, but hopefully he wouldn't need it. "Y'know, someone's probably being mugged or something right now but you're busy arresting me for having a fucking smoke by myself."
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
Yes, he's probably telling the truth and poses no real risk to society. No, it isn't necessary to snap the cuffs around his wrist, cold metal clicking with harsh finality. Yes, she probably should be letting him go, not grabbing him by his arm, his back to her shoulder, petite frame dwarfed by his lanky form as she stands behind him. Long, lanky, draped like a scarf.
Yes, she recognizes him now. And it changes the game.
"I know who you are," Savera growls, her voice low and soft - very different from the near-shouting required last time they met. "The information broker. One of those wannabe revolutionaries." She knows the Enforcer garb already makes her nearly indistinguishable from any other patrolman, but she's not willing to take any chances tonight.
She keeps her grasp firm on his arm, trying to stay behind him, out of his line of sight. "Tell you what - I'll cut you a deal. You answer a couple questions, and I'll let you spend the night in your own bed."
once the waters start to rise and heaven's out of sight she'll want the devil on her team
"You...do?" Adam asked, surprised - as much as he would have liked to be a household name, his show hadn't been on the air for some time now and he mostly blended into the background of the Drench. It seemed though, as Savera continued, that she did indeed know who he was. He frowned, not struggling as much as he might in her grip as he tried to think through any careless connections he'd made lately.
Sunjata? Surely not.
He was so pre-occupied by this he didn't take offensive at 'wannabe' (he was a successful revolutionary) but the mention of a deal caught his attention.
Such an easy one too. Lying was as second nature to Adam as breathing; one didn't grow up spindly in the Drench without the ability to talk their way out of anything. "Oh...well..." Pressing down his hope, he put on a reluctant expression. "Depends what you wanna know."
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
all the good girls go to hell cus even god herself has enemies
Ah, so she has his attention - and it doesn't seem to be at the expense of her own identity. At least not yet, though Savera knows well enough that pursuing this path is a dangerous choice, increasing her risk of being found out. But even so, she has the upper hand: literally, as her grip remains firm on Adam's arm, baton still ready in the other hand.
As for what she wants to know? It's simple, really. "Only one thing." Savera's voice stays low and deep, soft enough to not be overheard, even in this empty night. It's a gamble, but she's done the math, and based on the man's self-proclaimed information trading as well as the way she saw him interact with her fiancee at the masquerade, she thinks her odds are good. "Where is the Arbiter's son?"
once the waters start to rise and heaven's out of sight she'll want the devil on her team
