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
you want a revelation, you wanna get it right but it's a conversation I can't have tonight
Seemingly collected as she leans against the vibrating wall, Kala’s eyes close for a moment as she takes a drag on the bummed cigarette, opening them again to watch the curl of smoke as it disappears into the murky, lukewarm night. Grey on grey on grey. No stars here. No stars ever. She’d traded stars for beats and anonymity and nonchalance and freedom. Stars for art. Trees for money. For… mmmm, for grinding and free drinks.
Kala grins a little at nothing in particular, head buzzing - not quite enough to lift her off the ground and let her float back downstairs. Not yet. Not till the music takes over her heartbeat. Not till there’s tingling instead of buzzing. She flicks the ash away and turns a lazy, appraising gaze to the people still waiting in line. One she notes for later, the rest, quietly rating against herself and finding more of them lacking or not.
Shame. This club has done so well for her in the past. Might just be an off night, but it ain’t early. She shifts, casually letting the hem of an already short dress inch higher as she takes another drag, a fresh bass burst climbing its way out of the doorway and through the ground to her knees, where it seems to settle and simmer. Oh fuck. That’s a good song.
climbing the ladder, faster and faster impending disaster goes faster, and—
This line up is bullshit. Not that he’s bothered with it yet, Nate standing across from the queue and watching, chewing his lip, but even from here he can tell. It’s barely moving. The thumping club is at capacity, and then some, and if anything that only makes Nate want in more.
If he’s lucky though, there’s another way.
It should be impossible for such a large man in such a loud outfit to sneak anywhere, yet there he is, appearing on the wall beside Kala like he belongs there, a silver cigarette case in his hand. “One more before we go back in y’think?” Nate purrs, offering out a pungent, home rolled smoke in exchange for her playing along.
you want a revelation, you wanna get it right but it's a conversation I can't have tonight
Kala side-eyes the smoke first, ashing the almost dead original to her other side while a slightly buzzed gaze travels lazily up - and up and up - till her neck has to crane a little to see the stranger’s eyes.
“Fuck,” she exhales with amusement, “you’re tall.” She’s captain obvious tonight, but the mixing of drugs has never made her clever and she can smell the heady stink of something stronger than what she’s got: store-bought, mass-manufactured cigarettes. It was bummed from someone before him, but like any opportunistic Drencher, she doesn’t think twice when offered a better deal. Rolling against the wall to face him, she flicks the offending white-washed bit towards his feet for him to put out, and nods her acceptance. “I see you’re good with your hands.” Which is to say - that’s a nice roll. And maybe a little more, as the lithe artist waits expectantly for her bribe.
Just as Kala never carries her own smokes, she never carries a lighter, either. Little things like that are never more than a person or two away.
climbing the ladder, faster and faster impending disaster goes faster, and—
A wry grin tugs either corner of Nate’s lips up, his head cocking gently to the side. “I’m normal sized.” The words leave him so confidently, even as he dips slightly, reducing the strain on her neck.
“My line of work, I gotta be.” Nate rumbles, the apples of his cheeks absolutely glowing with pride. A strange picture considering where they are, what he’s doing. Without missing a beat he tucks his own home roll between his lips and fishes out a lighter, flicking it a few times before the wick catches.
Leaning down (and down and down) he lights both of their cigarettes off the one flame, snapping the lighter closed and lingering. Clear eyes search hers, clearly pleased by what they see. “Its a good night for it, eh?”
you want a revelation, you wanna get it right but it's a conversation I can't have tonight
An amused chuckle falls delicately from her lips as she raises a single eyebrow in response to his protestations. Oh really? she seems to sass wordlessly back at the giant, but declines to defend her own position.
Instead, the artist inhales deeply and then turns her head away from Nate to exhale, a long, slow stream of smoke wafting into the night. “Sure is,” she says with a half-grin as she turns back, getting a better look at him since it seems they’ll be here at least another couple of minutes. The light is shitty here, but he seems to have some punky bits she can vibe with. And if nothing else, Kala is a little short on friendly acquaintances. “Thanks. So what’s your line of work then? Where you from?”
climbing the ladder, faster and faster impending disaster goes faster, and—
In what is perhaps a petulant sort of tease, Nate makes no effort to blow his own smoke away, letting it waft up into his face and obscuring it that much more. "Oh. 'M... somethin' of a fixer." That thread of pride remains in his tone, even as he declines to specify any further than that. Fingers flicker in a distracting little dance as Nate straightens again, the lighter disappearing and the hand that had held it reaching out to settle on Kala's shoulders, offering a moment to get into something resembling a natural closeness and not strangers trying to play a con before they make moves into the club.
Though, speaking of strangers. "You can call me Nate. Or anything you want, so long as I know I'm supposed to answer to it." Friendly acquaintances aren't something he's short on, and if the friendly is removed then that list grows even longer, but that doesn't mean Nate is ever opposed to knowing more people. Different tools for different itches.
The cherry on his smoke glows as he pulls in another deep lungful of smoke and blows it above them, a huff of laughter chasing out the breath. "Where's anyone from 'round here?" Comes the counter, his gaze focusing on her again. "Unless they're not from here, and then they ask." The logic train doesn't exactly need to be shared, but it's a good but of context when his grin turns sharp. "Where're you from?"
10-14-2022, 03:47 PM
