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
Luckily the train doesn’t take long either and Sunjata pulls into the menacing checkpoint of Bratena’s House, checking in through the guards. And from there, rather than going through to the terribly pointed and aggressive manor that sits there, he whisks down the other side of the driveway, toward a little back entrance.
And from there, guides her into a little hideaway underneath the servants sector (knowing that by this point they’ve all gone to bed). He dips this way and that to avoid the view of the cameras, ensuring Savera follows suit, and before long they’re secured into a relatively roomy room, a makeshift cot of a bed with a surprising amount of blankets tossed about, and quite a few books from the Core’s libraries that had to have cost a fortune. “Welcome to my home away from home, Vera.” He flashes a crooked smile her way before he starts to untie his tie, loosening his shirt, and shrugs out of the suit jacket.
may we dance until it rains may we drink to hide our shame
(This post was last modified: 10-11-2022, 10:10 PM by Sunjata.)
and every demon wants his pound of flesh but i like to keep some things to myself
"Certainly homey," Savera agrees, ducking into the cozy space on the heels of her date. When he'd said he was taking her somewhere they could talk, she hadn't exactly pictured the delving into the bowels of House Bratena like children playing 'hide from the help'.
Without waiting for permission Savera begins to investigate, prowling through the small space with the grace and incongruity of a large cat in a teashop. She runs her fingers on a blanket, reaches down to scoop up on expensive tome that balances precariously on the edge of a table. It isn't long before she's left the small living space entirely, disappearing around a corner into one of the even smaller adjoining rooms.
Not that Vera's curiosity means Sunjata's getting off the hook. "Alright, talk," she calls from the kitchenette, her dark voice accompanied by the sound of dishware being moved and liquid being poured.
i like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn
may you prosper till you die prim and pitted black and white
He lets her investigate, continuing to undress into a more comfortable change of clothes — exchanging the stuffy suit jacket and the polo shirt for a more comfortable short sleeve shirt. By then, he wanders back toward the kitchenette as she makes her demand.
He steps into the kitchenette, leaning against the doorframe, arms folding across his chest. “First of all, don’t yell at me. Second of all, don’t tell anyone.” He begins, pausing and eyeing her before he continues. “But what if… We changed things with the Drench and the Plates. What if… We helped them down there start their revolution?” It’s a daunting task and he hopes the way he says it doesn’t come off like a naive Plater, but he can’t guarantee that she won’t react like that.
After all, it’s treason.
may we dance until it rains may we drink to hide our shame
and every demon wants his pound of flesh but i like to keep some things to myself
Once again, not a super promising start. Vera flashes Sunjata her best side-eye, a look that says a thousand words, most of them just fucking talk. She's got the kettle on the stove and is rummaging around in search of coffee when he drops little bomb, a classic mixture of enthusiasm and idealism that places Savera somewhere between wanting to laugh and cry.
She settles for a stoic expression, almond eyes unreadable as she continues to search for some much-needed caffeine. "And how will you do that?" she asks, leaning down to hunt for a percolator, evidently as calm as focused as if this were the normal domestic scene it appears. Only the paleness of her knuckles on the edge of the counter betray the tension waiting within, the wound up, feral energy for him tell her whether his plan will leave her bemused or enraged.
i like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn
may you prosper till you die prim and pitted black and white
The side eye is really what gets him talking, though with her being the first person he’s telling it spins anxiety so forcefully in his stomach he thinks he’s already nauseous. But he can try, he has to, if he doesn’t want to become his father’s mindless drone, a mini-Shaju equivalent in his older age. Luckily for him, she doesn’t start berating him for his thoughts, instead, asking how and this is something he can answer with hopefully a more informed outlook rather than the typical young dreamer.
He disappears from the kitchenette for a moment to retrieve a tiny little notebook he’s been using to keep his notes in. “Last Drenak I spent a lot of it studying ways.” He begins, flipping through the pages to get to the notes he’s made. “We know the lockdown is bullshit. And given that there’s so many Drenchers in comparison to us on the Plates but we have the weapons and power to force them like cattle into what we “need” them to do.” He lifts one hand to give air quotes, before it drops to the notebook again. “So I was thinking… If they did want to start a revolution, we’d need people up here willing to help and the ability to snuff out the power we have up here… You know? Immobilizing our factories where we get the Enforcer weapons or raiding them to give them to the fighters in the Drench?” He works his jaw and lifts his gaze to her.
“There’s… A book in the restricted part of the Core library I got into, and I found an old book from before the Last Days. This has happened before, but we need to be able to level the playing field.” He pauses here, gaze lifting to her to see if she were about to persecute him for suggesting such a thing. So he adds quietly, perhaps a bit embarrassed for thinking so against the rest of the Aristocrats. “It’s wrong that the Drench has to suffer.”
may we dance until it rains may we drink to hide our shame
and every demon wants his pound of flesh but i like to keep some things to myself
Well.
It's thought out, she has to give him that. Savera is silent as Sunjata speak, spinning his lofty plans for a brighter tomorrow like the sweet, sheltered dreamer she's always known him to be. It's adorable, and sickening, and makes her teeth ache. Still she continues making the coffee, fishing out a percolator and, by some miracle, filters, adding instant coffee while she waits for the water to boil.
"Ok, but how are you going to do that?" Savera asks again, still not looking at him head-on. She fishes out some mugs, placing them on the counter. He's hardly the first person to have had this dream: supply lines broken, the proletariat funded, the aristocracy and ruling regime smashed upon the ground.
i like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn
(This post was last modified: 10-15-2022, 04:13 AM by Savera.)
may you prosper till you die prim and pitted black and white
She doesn’t look at him and his anxiety eats away at him as she questions him yet again as to the how’s, a factor he hasn’t gotten much work into yet. He swallows hard and drifts closer, picking out a mug and pouring his own instant coffee beside hers. It wouldn’t make sense that he would be able to do something given where he’s at right now, constantly watched.
“Well… I actually have an excuse to go down to the Drench now. Granted it’s in uniform. But… I might be able to figure out what they need to get it started? I could be in the middle of it.” He pauses, opening up the little notebook to the pages in the back. “I’ve already gotten the times where they intend to secretly unload the shipments that come in despite lockdown. Which warehouse manufactures our weapons… Things like that.” He works his jaw, looking up at her. “I’m not sure how else I can be involved.” Other than being an inside man.
may we dance until it rains may we drink to hide our shame
and every demon wants his pound of flesh but i like to keep some things to myself
She wants very much to throw her mug of coffee in his face. Barring that, she has to content herself with watching him through hooded almond eyes as steam swirls delicately before her face, obscuring them both from view. She's pushed herself back against the counter, half-seated, a knee cocked, for all the world as calm and comfortable as if she were chatting about the most recent boxing matches, or their plans for the weekend, or chess.
Not listening to her would-be-fiancée's plan to commit treason.
She nods, slowly, stoic expression stubbornly refusing to give much away. "You've thought a lot about this," Savera acknowledges between sips, the shitty, scalding coffee bitter on her tongue. "But so did the last people who tried. And the ones before that." Now her dark gaze flickers up, capturing his grey, and behind the soft nonchalance lies a warning glint of steel.
"None of them are still alive."
i like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn
may you prosper till you die prim and pitted black and white
Anxiety bleeds into his stomach; the urge of over speaking, of over analyzing everything he’s done in order to know that she realizes he hasn’t just thought this up on a whim. It’s word vomiting at best in place for the nausea that burns in his gut. But she speaks and his shoulders sink a little in relief when she admits he’s thought a lot about it.
He swallows hard, nodding before she speaks again, catching that gleam in those flint hued eyes and the warning within it. The nausea returns, but he plasters on a fake smile, one that she’d be able to see through easily. “What if this time it was different?” He asks quietly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.
“I want to do something… I can’t change anything where I am.” His tone shifts toward disappointment, frustration of being stuck in the hole he’s in, of wanting out. And with no way to see the light at the end of the tunnel, he simply chooses to freefall.
may we dance until it rains may we drink to hide our shame
and every demon wants his pound of flesh but i like to keep some things to myself
He's so fucking serious, and that somehow makes it worse. If this was a half-baked idea instead of a half-baked plan she could laugh it off, subtly dissuade him from taking it further- but the truth is even the plan is ruminated and cemented, clearly so firmly adhered to the recesses of his mind that she cannot hope to scrape it away, to prevent the disaster she knows will come.
She can feel tension building at the back of her skull, a headache tingling behind her eyes.
And also? Fuck him for telling her any of this, because now she has to choose a side. She holds his gaze, letting anger and frustration snap brightly between them, not bothering to hide the calculations that flash across her mind. She's clawed and scrambled her way up this far, and he wants her to... what? Give it up for a fake engagement? For a spoiled little princeling with dreams of change?
For the only true friend she's ever had?
Fuck.
Savera deflates as she heaves a sigh, decision reached at last. A long pull of coffee - absolutely horrendous, but it wakes her up - and a minute later, and she looks at Jata again.
"Ok. Tell me all of it, from the beginning, and I'll see how we can keep you from being killed. That's all," she adds, lest he believe she is commiting to being a full co-conspirator. She may not want to see Sunjata die, but she also doesn't want to become a full-blown traitor.
Yet.
{fin <3}
i like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn
