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
hey mr. trailblazer, spare you a joint paper it's strange how the days layer, and weigh on you years later
The heat and the lack of tourists wanting to drift into the deep humidity of the Drench had seriously become a buzz kill for Uldren. He’s spent half the early part of the morning at the booth, wearing a tank top because of the heat, and now as the day shifts toward the afternoon and the light starts to glow above them from the space between the Plates, the Neon Alley seems to start baking in the heat.
His product is displayed and at this point he’s sat behind the booth with as much shade as he can manage in the small space, watching people drift by intermittently. So far, no biters, and he feels the distinct lack of lasti in his pocket. So with a heavy sigh, Uldren reaches into his pack for a somewhat room temperature bottle of water (colder than it was outside at least, but it’s lost its chill) and he sips from it in the hopes that it might cool him down at all.
Adam had dealt with the muggy Kivan heat many times before (about 28 times, in fact) but this year it seemed particularly stagnant. Maybe it was the way the city itself was stuck, suspended without motion by the lockdown that prevented a flow of people. He had his escapes, spots on high buildings and portions of water that weren't too filthy, but you couldn't stay there forever.
Eventually you had to venture back out into the oppressive blanket of thick air.
Wandering without too much of a purpose down Neon Alley, he was daydreaming about the beer he had at home. it was awful stuff, barely better than watered down piss, but it was something liquid and cold-ish he could put in himself, which made it seem like ambrosia in his mind. Adam weaved through the crowd automatically, not worrying about pickpockets in the tight squeeze - he had nothing worth stealing. Certainly didn't have any lasti on him.
He would have walked right past Uldren's stall, jewellry like the items he sold holding no interest, if it were not for the water he saw the shopkeeper drinking. When he realised he was staring, Adam stopped, came back a couple of steps and approached the stall. He recognised the seller - not someone he'd ever had reason to speak to, but one of those familiar faces in the Drench. With a curt nod, he asked: "Don't give a shit about your jewels, but from one Drench rat t'another...can I get some of that water?"
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
hey mr. trailblazer, spare you a joint paper it's strange how the days layer, and weigh on you years later
Oh, he notices Adam staring, but he doesn’t have the urge in him to say anything to point it out. After all, the goal wasn’t entirely to sell these jewels and gems to the Drenchers (at least not the fake ones), it was for the Platers which refused to come down into their lairs when the humidity became too much. It’s worse than last year, certainly due to the lockdown causing an additional means of stuffiness.
But Adam returns after walking away and Uldren’s green gaze lingers on the stick thin man – recognizable, of course, though he doesn’t know the man’s name off the top of his head. “If you pretend to at least look at ‘em, you can have a water.” He flashes a small crooked smile. Even if Adam didn’t buy anything, if people did wander by they might notice it a bit more than an empty booth.
And of course, the promised bottle of water sits in the shade where he can try and keep it the coolest for longest, waiting for Adam to agree before he gives in.
Not being told to fuck off immediately was as good as a warm welcome in this situation, so Adam settled into his usual slouch and smirk, rolling his eyes good naturedly before guiding them towards the jewels on display. Knowing most of them were probably fake (he'd been shopping in the Drench before), he focused on how shiny they were; not that he'd know how to tell anyway.
"Wow, look at this." He spoke in a falsetto, clearly the voice a Plater would have, as he reached for a purple brooch that reflected the neon lights around them. "I simply must buy it for my dear Rebecca back at home. She refuses to touch me unless I give her a gift worth at least 100 lasti a day." Grasping the brooch and holding it momentarily to his chest, sure it was not as delicate as it looked, Adam glanced down to Uldren to see if his acting had sufficed.
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
hey mr. trailblazer, spare you a joint paper it's strange how the days layer, and weigh on you years later
He isn’t a monster and he isn’t as exhausted from the humidity and heat as others might be in order to tell Adam to fuck off. No, the Drench had a special sort of relationship to their familiar faces, and a request for a request seemed like a fair enough bargain for the gems dealer. Enough so that he grins as Adam makes a show of his wares, glancing around to see if anyone was looking.
A few, of course, but they were also merchants, trying to sell their own goods. So, with a half laugh and a wince, Uldren pulls out the bottle of water and hands it to Adam with a small half shrug. “Well, was worth a shot.” It didn’t get them anywhere but it certainly amused Uldren enough to forget about the humidity for a second. “Great impression of those fucks, though.” He adds, huffing another laugh.
Adam wasted no time for pleasantries once the water was offered, grabbing the bottle and taking as hefty a gulp as he could, pulling it away from his lips with a gasp and moan of relief. Wiping his lips (god, had they been that dry this whole time?) he nodded as he passed the bottle back, shaking it with an appreciative nod as if it were the finest vintage.
"Good shit." The water was set back down on the table and as no customers seemed to be rushing over to buy jewels, Adam flopped down to sit by the side of Uldren's table, on whatever surely filthy surface was available. One long-fingered hand reached out to shake Uldren's. "I've seen you around. What's your name? And uh..."
Adam gestured to the sparkling gems on the table. "All of these are fake, right? Turn-your-fingers-green type shit?"
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
hey mr. trailblazer, spare you a joint paper it's strange how the days layer, and weigh on you years later
Another grin spreads across Uldren’s face, a huff of a laugh leaving him as Adam drinks from the bottle like a fish that hasn’t touched water in a while. He settles back in his booth seat the second that he realizes their attempt had failed, and so he’s content to prop a boot up on the edge. “Uldren.” He offers with a slight shrug and that same playful smile. “You?” He’s seen Adam before, too, but he can’t put a name to him either.
As for his jewelry, he looks properly offended, a hand rising to press to his chest, a slight gasp of horror overcoming him. “Nah. How dare you.” His lips twitch into a smirk. “Only the gems are fake. And only fake for the Platers.” The words fall from him a hint louder than a whisper; for Adam’s ears only.
"Adam. You uhh...ever listen to the radio?" It was, perhaps, a bit bold to put out the feelers about his illegal radio station this early into a conversation, but Uldren was so Drench it hurt. Of all the people to report him to the enforcers, Adam didn't think he had to worry about this one. If the jewel seller had caught his show, he'd probably recognise his voice, though the names given on air ranged from ridiculous nicknames to pseudonyms pulled from people in the streets.
He was surprised to hear that any of the gems were real; Adam cast another glance over the table with a frown. "Why? Not like Drenchers care about that kinda stuff, is it? I don't know anyone who can afford to buy an actual diamond or whatever the fuck." It was romantic to get proposed to with a ring pull, in some neighbourhoods. Adopting the same quiet tone and smirk, he leaned in. "This is a cover up, right?"
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
hey mr. trailblazer, spare you a joint paper it's strange how the days layer, and weigh on you years later
Does he listen to the radio? Upon occasion. But he doesn’t particularly know what stations are good yet – it hasn’t been a priority given everything else that’s gone on. “Occasionally. Why, you on it or somethin’?” He asks with a playful grin, fully anticipating to be wrong in that regard. He filters the name away, trying to place it with the radio when he gets distracted by the frown on Adam’s face and the question, Uldren’s head cocking sharp enough that the pieces of dyed red hair fall into his face as he shuffles to push it back out of the way.
“Drenchers get a good deal.” He begins, leaning back and stretching out, folding his arms behind his head as he looks over at Adam at the mention of a cover up. “I’m from Undunli, figured I’d come here ‘n share the good shit with the other underdogs, y’know? Majority of the lasti come from Platers not knowing their gems are fake, but with lockdown people aren’t comin’ down here in droves anymore.” His boot drops with a thud to the street and he leans in, closer to Adam with a playful twitch of a smirk on his face. “Sorta.” Some of the actual gems were stolen, repurposed, shifted from pocketed Platers into gemstones fit for the Drenchers.
"Yeah, most nights." Adam replied with a confident smirk, though he was inwardly a little disappointed at how few people had known him lately. Had his star really faded so quickly with just a couple of seasons of lockdown? Was he not the household name he had thought himself to be? Pretending he wasn't swallowing down that disappointment, he dug around in his pocket until he found a crumpled scrap of paper with some numbers scrawled on it, which he passed over. "That's the frequency. For now. Tune in and ya might hear something interesting...or some good tunes."
Or drunken rambles, or snoring if he'd left the station up when he'd knocked out. You never knew with his show.
Hearing where Uldren was from, Adam looked him over with a new eye. "So what made you come over here? I know just about everywhere's a shithole nowadays, but this is the shittiest shit hole."
Just because I made poetry a mission
You might as well punish a kid for coloring outside the lines
