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
standing on the corner, i could listen to the radio when the savior sang from the fire escape on a second floor you were always saying we would make it to the catacombs
It’s her favorite place to go for lunch – this little adorable café with windows facing the little reservoir river, allowing the sunlight to glint from the water as it passes by and illuminates the coffee shop. It isn’t busy by any means, and she’s even managed to close up the gallery for an hour to come here and indulge in a warm drink to combat the cool Tanul afternoon. It’s been raining, but it’s lifted enough for parted clouds to let in streams of sunlight, and Rexanna’s half torn between continuing reading her book and the view of the reservoir docks from outside from where she sits in the booth by the window.
She sips from her drink as she decides, focused on the outside world momentarily, waiting for her lunch to arrive. Her hair is wavy and settles around her shoulders, grown longer from when she’d cut it during the warmer months of Kivan, and she wears a warm, orange and white sweater that looks impossibly warm, sleeves pushed up as she sets the coffee cup down and reaches into her bag to retrieve her book – only to realize she must have left it on the reception desk back at the Gallery.
It isn’t upsetting, at least, given the view that she has – content to let that keep her mind for as long as her lunch lasts.
Kaylus would never run late, nor would he bother being uncharacteristically early, yet here he was taking strides through the area with a calm expression upon his features. Beneath the calm was a storm that only showed in his eyes, as he had received a message that required three details to be cleared with his informant before he could push forward with a deal. It was one of the reasons he stayed out of the Aristocracy, it was a minefield of political intrigue and whenever he smelled another house's involvement in those he took interest in, he discretely took his leave.
Wearing a heavy overcoat above his suit, his hair styled with a pair of spectacles balanced on the bridge of his nose. He ignored the whispers and glances he intoned as he entered the small and almost idyllic café. Why this tiny place and not a backwater drinking den was chosen, he had no idea. Well, that was a lie, the informant was smart and those who were knowledgeable knew that Kaylus wouldn't strangle them in public. The place was full, almost entirely except for one seat by the window next to a pretty woman whom he recognized but not exactly from where.
So, carrying his briefcase over to her, he stood looming before making a polite half-bow as expected of him to do when meeting someone who may have been an acquaintance. "May I have this seat? My humble apologies for interrupting, but I saw that you lack company and there are no other spots" He had taken a calming breath, a smile upon his lips genuine as he forced his eyes to match. But the glimmer was barely there. At the very least, he stayed his looks and stopped his eyes from wandering over her body. Kaylus was in public after all and this place was still frequented by people of standing.
He'd wait, but he understood that this was likely a social death sentence for the woman. If she knew him, she could deny him and make an enemy or accept the request, which would just be as bad, given his reputation. It was somewhere between Saint and Devil, given how many people he had supposedly saved and yet abused using his standing or power over those same individuals. Yet, few complained and lived to see the days after. So, he continued to smile and watch the woman drinking her tea.
standing on the corner, i could listen to the radio when the savior sang from the fire escape on a second floor you were always saying we would make it to the catacombs
It’s likely her spatial awareness is lacking given that she doesn’t notice the tall man’s approach – too busy waiting for her lunch and staring out the window at the birds that flit across the water. So it’s no surprise that her head twists toward him the second he speaks at a speed close to giving whiplash, peering up at him with sapphire eyes of surprise before recognition sinks in relatively immediately, and she looks around to see that the café has picked up its business.
There’s the internal moment of debate within her, wanting to prefer to be on his good side given that she’s heard the rumors that everyone else had shared, and she reflects that polite smile back to him before she speaks. “Oh. Go ahead, then.” She sits up a little straighter, perfect posture as Rexanna’s gaze continues to watch him now that she’s agreed to let him sit, already trying to think of whether or not she should open up any conversation with him (and now regretting immensely the lack of her book with which she could ignore him with).
So the woman aims for the last option in her mind, cradling the mug in her hands and pulls her gaze away from Kaylus to look back out the window – finding it far less peaceful knowing how the word would spread of this unfortunate meeting, hoping that her food can arrive already boxed up so that she might be able to leave before it starts to seem like a less than inopportune timing.
Kaylus noted the spark of recognition and hesitation, he held in laughter as that would break decorum as he spoke up in reply. "Thank you, it is most appreciated" he said as his lips widened to smile with a bit more teeth than necessary. Putting his briefcase down, he took off and lay his overcoat on the back of his chair, before sitting down. His fully attired suit made him a bit overdressed for the establishment as he waved at the waitress. "I'll have what the lady is having and a black coffee, please, and thank you" he stated cordially before looking toward the woman sitting opposite him.
Of course, he didn't care about the rumors and it showed that he was quite delighted that she had accepted. Both because he had to be here for a later meeting and now that he had time to examine her, the woman was gorgeous. Biting his teeth together so that he didn't start licking his lips. As he doubted that would make him look any less predatory. "My name is Kaylus, may I have yours, Miss?" as he reached over to offer her his hand, palm up like that of a true gentleman. His skin was well maintained and his nails manicured. He even smelled of sandalwood and lightly floral.
Little did he know that she was dreading their meeting. That was another lie, he should really stop doing that as he felt that she wanted to run. Like a lost sheep in the woods, hunted down by some kind of wolf. Kaylus couldn't be that wolf, he never sprang at anything which invited him in. It would be bad manners and first impressions were everything in this world. Even if the rumors were true if you could ingratiate yourself in the eyes of those who had heard them. They would be your most powerful allies in denouncing the same rumors, as long as he could trick them all into believing that he was an upstanding citizen.
standing on the corner, i could listen to the radio when the savior sang from the fire escape on a second floor you were always saying we would make it to the catacombs
There’s a bitten back retort of I’m sure that wants to sarcastically leave her lips, but she refrains as she offers a softer nod of her head and a “you’re welcome,” content to leave the conversation where it lay. But, of course, it doesn’t go the way she wants it to – and she hopes the little rumors of the time spent with Samuel, the Bravlet Strategic Advisor, might make this interaction shorter. It doesn’t, however, when he orders lunch, exactly the same as what she’s having, and it sparks a little flare of frustration to warm and paint her cheeks in a pinker hue.
He settles in, though, and she takes her eyes off of the water when he speaks again to her – hand offered in as polite of a meeting as could be, and she’s torn between her manners and the gossip she knows will surely spread regardless of what she does or doesn’t do. So it’s with a quiet inhale of a sigh that she appraises him like she might, deciding whether a piece of art is worth hanging in her family’s gallery. “I know your name.” She says easily, not rudely, but more of a matter-of-fact tone before she offers her own hand into his, watching with relatively clear disinterest. “Rexanna.” Revanti, of the Gallery down the street.
She gives his hand a little nudge of a shake before moving to withdraw, her gaze still staring him down.
Of course, he was welcome, very few people would deny him and still, he didn't know who she was nor the rumors around her. Maybe he was a bit slow in that regard, but again, he usually stayed out of Aristocratic business. Though, once he had her name, it may be a different story altogether. Kaylus also noted the red hue that appeared on her cheeks as well as common signs that she was holding back her attitude. He knew the signs only because it was what the indentured did whenever he asked them for favors, knowing full well that he owned them. "Oh, you do? I hope it is all good things" he replied as she spoke up about knowing his name.
Understandably, they were likely not good things as he was one of the worst Aristocrats if you followed rumors. The issue was that no one could prove it. The proof was what was necessary to pin him down, otherwise, he would have been long renounced by House Kusund for his actions. Instead, he was praised for the influx of funds that he donated to the Houses' cause, even if it was blood money laundered through the Drench. Then she took his hand, gloriously soft hands and she thought she'd get away with just a shake. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rexanna"
He said as he smoothly leaned forward and lifted her hand before he kissed it with his soft lips, having squeezed it firmly before he let it go. Making sure to sit upright in his chair, so that if she wanted to slap him, she'd have to lean all the way across the table and make a scene. "Truly, a pleasure..." He whispered just enough for Rexanna to hear as well as the closest people eavesdropping. Biting his lower lip slightly before he returned his features to a calm expression. Rexanna, the local Gallery owner's daughter? his mind tried to piece it all together as he watched her, waiting to see her reaction. Hoping, that she'd not scald him with her drink or something untowardly, though, he'd not mind. Having dirt over her would be something he would savor slowly.
standing on the corner, i could listen to the radio when the savior sang from the fire escape on a second floor you were always saying we would make it to the catacombs
“Of course.” She lies, thankful for her quick tongue and wit to refrain from laughing and saying absolutely not. But she had learned from a young age the way to dance around the Plate’s politics, even if she hadn’t been fully introduced to it until she was older. Her parents had done a wonderful job at keeping her shielded from the majority, while simultaneously teaching her the tips and tricks she’d need to succeed here.
His hand is surprisingly soft given everything she knows about him, and her own are just as soft if not for the small calluses along the pads of her fingertips from working and creating, and while she makes that attempt to pull away after the little shake she certainly isn’t surprised when he doesn’t let her — going so far as to lean in and press a soft kiss to the back of her hand all while she continues to stare at him with those hardened sapphire eyes.
But she can see what he’s doing, even as the quieter repeated comment leaves him and she straightens up as she withdraws her hand finally, amusement breaking into the deep blue of her gaze. “I am sure it is.” She replies, quietly, lips twisting into a masked playful smile to hide the fact that she’s disappointed in being unable to set him on fire. It’s probably for the best, though, not wanting to have to explain all of that to the Kusund nobility, knowing full well how nothing seemed to stick to him anyway.
So her hands return to cradling her mug of coffee at precisely the time the waiter arrives with Kaylus’ own. She lifts her mug to take a sip, still watching him with half disinterest, half playing along for the sake of there being so many people around, unsure which would be best in the grand scheme. In reality, she already knows the answer; she’s the subject of a lot of shitty drama regardless of what she does or doesn’t do. And she’s positive he knows that, and that it’s likely the whole reason he’s zeroed in on her in the first place.
Kaylus knew it was a lie, no one had good words to speak about him, he didn't care and liked that he was both scorned and feared instead of enamored over. It didn't suit him, he had never seen a spit worth of respect that didn't have the backing of a sword, magic, or money. It was how he was raised, it was why he drove his Father insane and to a very timely demise. So he smiled all throughout and kept up appearances, even though those in the know, knew that all he did was wear a mask of civility. He wanted to take his fingers and brush them against his lips, lick them as if he could taste the woman's skin.
Perhaps that desire shone in his brown eyes for a moment as he watched her reaction, the calm of his features almost fracturing when she didn't retaliate. It would have been more amusing, and fun to have her hurt him, bleed or burn. He'd have the best healers and as long as he didn't lose an eye, Kaylus would have used it all as an excuse to dig his claws into Rexanna's flesh. "It is..." he whispered as the waiter arrived with his coffee, nodding to the gentleman and thanking them graciously before lifting his mug to take a deep sip. The steam coming off it, showed it was truly hot as Kaylus savored how it burned going down.
"So, do you frequent this establishment often? As the gallery is across the way..." He spoke slowly as he let out a slight sigh, as he moved the mug away from his lips. His voice was steady, calm, and in control. Kaylus could have been mistaken for sweet if you neither knew of his name nor of his reputation. Trying to establish some kind of rapport, no matter how much she tried to avoid doing so with him. Kaylus could have been more drastic, making overt mentions of her beauty or some nonsense. But, he didn't want to give her a legitimate reason to bolt like some kind of doe. With those in this area, sensibilities and decorum were everything. He was also betting that Rexanna wouldn't want slight him in case word got back to House Kusund.
standing on the corner, i could listen to the radio when the savior sang from the fire escape on a second floor you were always saying we would make it to the catacombs
She isn’t stupid, she knows that she’s pretty, but she certainly doesn’t do anything to flaunt it unlike her Aristocratic counterparts. In fact, it’s what often made her less beautiful here on the Plates – her lack of sharing and spreading gossip that so many others held to like a lifeline. She supposes that might change now, given the current conversation partner she has and the curious looks from those that know her well enough here at the café that she very often frequents.
Rexanna pretends to not notice them, of course. So she sets her coffee back down onto the table, continuing her ever picture perfect posture (especially now since so many eyes are on her), and she meets his attempt at conversation with a casual return to looking out the window, watching the brief sunlight they have flicker along the little waves in the reservoir river, unsurprised that he’s put two and two together. “I do, actually. It’s my usual lunch spot.” Also information that wasn’t secretive by any means.
But in an effort to try and throw him off a little, she offers him a brief bone. “I don’t imagine you tend to frequent places like this often, though?” A casual way to say why are you here?
Kaylus was used to being stared at, judged, and found wanting by the whole spectrum of people. From Plater Aristocracy to Drench-born addicts, they all had something to say about him, how they felt that he was scum on all layers. So it bothered him little, if at all when strangers watched or eavesdropped on him or his company. He noted that she seemed rather stiff now, unlike how she was when she was alone and before he arrived. Putting up appearances, just so that others wouldn't whisper and gossip perhaps, he hoped that wasn't the case, he liked people with a bit more fire.
Though, with her admittance that this was her usual luncheon spot, and being so close to her place of work. It likely meant that she just didn't want to create issues that stopped her from returning here, or that was what Kaylus gathered. "That is splendid to hear, this place is quaint and has delightful coffee," he said as he leaned forward knowing she wasn't going to attack him at this time, no posturing or making it look like he was faking his amusement, his elbows on the table as he lowered his coffee mug. He wanted people to talk about this so that it wouldn't be too hard to meet Rexanna again. It was also not quite the thing he wanted mentioned, he was here on business and did not need her prying that detail out of him.
"No, but I saw something in the window that I had to try. Perhaps, I will make the journey here again. Company is good and if the food is as delicious, it will be a place I will frequent often" Kaylus made the statement casually, though emphasized his interest in the company and blurred the line on whether he meant the food or company was delicious. He knew what she was up to, but if the Hounds of the Kusund couldn't dig up dirt on him over the years, he wasn't going to admit anything to a pretty girl. No matter how inviting she looked. The scar on his side gave out a pang of pain, as he remembered one of the last women he trusted stabbing him in the kidney.
