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
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
“You don’t have to ask.” There is a note of frustration in Nate’s voice, one Sunjata will be familiar with even if he hasn’t heard it in years. It’s the tone of someone who has reached their wits end trying to teach a child a very simple fact, without taking into account the chasm of knowledge between them. “Nice isn’t enough for that. Not when it was only because of your uniform.”
Sunjata’s not the only one who’s realized the terms are different here. The last handful of times they’d met, there had been a stop guard, an impossible to ignore reminder to behave. But now he’s not in his uniform, and there is nothing stopping Nate from grabbing Sunjata’s wrist and tugging him, using the surprise advantage to squirrel them away into the cleanest alley Nate has ever seen in his life.
All at once, Nate is too close again, red rimmed eyes looking impossibly blue in the glow of well maintained neon. “Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but you need to know by now things aren’t free, yeah? Wishing is great, but it doesn’t change things.”
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
Oh it’s the tone that gets him, that has him closing off more than he’d anticipated, the same tone that has his shoulders rising by his ears, hands stuffed in his pocket and teeth grit so tight that his teeth nearly creak with the press of it. “Good to know.” He grits out stubbornly, not looking at Nate and fully preparing himself to take his leave if this was how it was going to be.
If he wanted to be shit talked, he could do it at home. At least there it wouldn’t hurt so much.
It is surprising when his wrist is grabbed and he’s dragged through, steel eyes sharp when they meet those red rimmed blues, so much so that it stops whatever terrible retort from brewing on his tongue. “Changes things for one person. Start small, yeah? It’s not like I can fucking do anything else.” He snaps back at Nate, a combination of his own stubbornness and their closeness returning the flush. “So, if you don’t mind, I can get lectures on how stupid I am back home.” Or had Nate forgotten who his father was?
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
Whatever it is Nate sees in the other man’s eyes calms him somewhat, even if it deepens his frown and the crease between his brows. He hadn’t meant to push so far, but something about the noble gets under his skin, makes him itch and shake.
“No, it doesn’t. It’s all…” Nate sighs, closing his eyes and letting his face twitch with the emotions he chases out of his head. “ One night doesn’t change anything. And I don’t,” his brows pinch again, “sleep well in different places.” More honesty than he really wants to share, but it’s sincere, shining in his voice and the uncomfortable way his reopened eyes find the wall beside Sunjata’s head instead of his gaze.
There’s no effort made to move, Nate looking down at the other (or at least around him) and chewing his lip. “I’m sorry. I’m not… I just… there’s better people to help. People who need it more.” With that said, he leans back again, giving the other man his space back and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
“You’re going to have to, though. You can’t get back down.” Sunjata points out, though the fire in his voice with the admission is muted, making way for something somber, sadder to an extent, but the temporary rage and closeness of the other man continues to keep his neck and cheeks flushed.
He clamps his jaw shut, keeps the muscles working within it, and tries to focus on something else but only really can stare down at Nate’s chest, brows stubbornly pinched in a mimicry of the other man’s. “Nobody else will take it. I’ve asked.” Probably for the same reason Nate’s already suggested. They don’t want to be blackmailed, least of all by the Arbiter’s kid.
And he can’t blame them. But he does focus a bit more as Nate pulls away, though the Bratena noble doesn’t move from where his back presses against the damp wall. “Look, I don’t get to do anything in my spare time really. I read, I make stupid appearances, and then I get shoved into the Drench in uniform where nobody wants me either. So when I saw you after asking around I thought maybe you’d give me a chance or something.” He shrugs a shoulder and reaches up to adjust his collar to hide more of his flushed skin, gaze dropping to the alley’s pavement as he also shoves his hands into his pockets.
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
Shoulders roll in a brief shrug. There’s more than one way to get his feet back on solid ground, though the other man doesn’t need to know that. Even if they truly aren’t serious options, at least not yet. If this extends into another day, then maybe, but…
News that Sunjata had offered the same deal to others does more to soften Nate than any other soothing words. It even manages to surprise him, two slow blinks aimed at Sunjata before he shakes his head clear.
For the first time since Nate had figured out how easy the other man is to tease, blue eyes focus on him and really look. Searching for something nameless. “A chance for what?” He can’t help but wonder what the Bratena had been thinking, if it went beyond trying to throw other peoples money at individual issues. Without thinking, he drifts closer again, leaning against the wall beside Sunjata instead of caging him in, though he’s still too close.
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
He doesn’t expect to have a look aimed at him like the one Nate gives, something softer and almost more understanding to a degree that he can’t quite make out. Regardless, he can’t help his own little tirade, staring away from Nate as his words are picked apart and the other man leans against the wall still close enough he can smell his scent, clinging to him in his memory.
It’s awkward to be asked that question, so he sinks into the wall a small amount more as if it might shield himself as well as his enforcer uniform does. “I don’t know. That I’m not some airhead just like the rest of them.” But as soon as the admission is made, a hand appears to rake through the short crop of hair, a huff of an exasperated laugh leaving him as he moves to push off the wall.
“I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.” He pauses in his movement, those flat and closed off steel meeting the taller man’s face as if wondering if he’s stepped too far over the line very boldly drawn between Aristocrat and Proletariat.
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
“You’re not like the rest of them” Nate offers quietly, roughly, a hand rising to grab Sunjata’s and pin it back down at his side. “You’re… nice. Weirdly. Maybe for real.” Another shrug Nate’s eyes moving to the ground once more.
A cocked head crushes curls against the artfully cracked cinderblocks of the wall, Nate licking his lips once again before asking the only important question. “Why not?”
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
His arm is caught, moved easily and obediently back down to his side even though he knows his enforcer status means it should be the exact opposite. But it sparks more of that creeping red to crawl up his collar, to infiltrate his cheeks and the tips of his ears that he’d only ever admit was because of the brisk breeze this time of night.
“I don’t know how to prove that it’s for real.” He admits quietly, gaze dropping to where Nate still holds his wrist. “And I shouldn’t be telling you this because for all accounts up here, you’re my enemy.” The answer comes out sadder and more depressing than he means, but he’s already let it slip as he starts to withdraw into himself, refusing to meet those bright blues of the other man’s.
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
Nate draws in a long, shaky breath and paints a smile across his face, his free hand coming up to pet Sunjata’s cheek. “Puppy, we’re enemies down there too. It’s all the same.” Fingers drum on the enforcers face, trying to coax his eyes up.
“Its just me and you that are different.” It’s not trust, not even close, but Nate is not so naive to simply throw away a connection like this. Sunjata is a useful chip to have in his pocket, even before the Bratena reality.
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
He swallows hard as the hand rises, as fingers run along freckled cheeks. It does work to lift his gaze, steel stubbornly still masked off, away that rises into the shadow of the other man. “It doesn’t have to be like that though.” But it is and he can’t change it despite the attempts he’s made to try. Nobody listens, least of all his father, the one that rules with an iron fist over the police that typically stems most of the immediate use of force.
But they’re still touching and it’s too close — if anyone saw he’d be worse off than the initial trouble of helping the stranded drenchers. And still, he can’t move. He’s rooted in the spot, peering up at Nate as he tries to close himself off from feelings that he’s long since buried, swallowing them down as he averts his gaze again. “Let me guess, the thing that’s different with you is that you’re willing to talk to me?” He mutters half annoyed, trying to project it rather than what his mind and body wants to give into.
