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
father, father, let me figure it out i'm gonna swim in the thick of it now, i can't even tell the difference now
Oh, aside from not realizing how bad it gets in the Drench during Drenak, he hadn’t realized that when Nate had mentioned that the Drenchers were the best at fixing water damaged items, that there would be so many people there. He should’ve guessed as much, given the season they’re in, but he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Sunjata had shown up to the place, seen the line out the door, and promptly pocketed his journal a little tighter and tucked his hood and jacket and mask over his face a little bit more, promptly turning around and leaving.
He’s done his best to blend in, buzzed his hair off at the sides to get rid of that hideous Enforcer insignia, gotten all Drench clothes, and tried his best to fit in with the movements and mannerisms of his new found home. Only it’s been an adjustment. And he’d promised that he wouldn’t be a liability on the chance that Nate and Adam let him stay.
And so far, he hasn’t. Yet so far, he hasn’t gone this far away from the comfort zone.
He feels successful at the very least. Nobody’s made a comment in regards to him, though it may be due to the bigger issues at hand — the sickness ravaging the many. He’s experienced well enough now to know to keep his mouth shut, that his accent might give him away, and it’s that which makes him some kind of Drench wraith, wandering back the way he came, bundled up to the brim with only his eyes visible and the slight smattering of freckles, more hidden now as the Drench remains dark.
And he thinks he might get away with this little excursion, until he turns a corner and spies the patrol of enforcers coming his way, where he immediately turns the corner to go down a different alley, hoping it doesn’t get him lost in the process.
holy water cannot help you now see i've come to burn your kingdom down
Oh, you have to be fucking kidding.
Sunjata may have taken great pains to conceal his identity, but Savera has been studying him since they were teenagers, has fought him and fucked him, memorized the way he moves. So when she sees a man with his height and build and gait scurrying away from her she cannot help but trust the jolt of recognition that surges down her spine, nor the flush of furious indignation that he would just appear, here, in broad daylight - and then attempt to run away - when she has spent all of Drenak suffering for his sins.
Fuck that noise.
In full enforcer gear, Savera may be less recognizable than Sunjata - a fact she plans to use to her advantage as she sets off after him. She keeps herself at a safe distance, trying to avoid being seen as she acts as shadow, as tail. She doesn't want to be spotted, but she does want to know where he's going: to chase him down to whatever hole he's deigned to crawl out of, whatever shadowy recess has held him in until now. She's not sure what she'll do when she finds it. Probably confront him in a civilized manner.
Possibly set the damn thing on fire.
holy water cannot help you now a thousand armies couldn't keep me out
father, father, let me figure it out i'm gonna swim in the thick of it now, i can't even tell the difference now
He already knows things have gone south, that while the other Drenchers have nothing specifically to hide and remain doing whatever it is they’re doing, well, Sunjata’s certainly not thought it through enough to put himself not as a target. And while he’d thought that he’d managed to seem like a casual enough evade, he knows there’s someone on his tail.
He curses internally to himself, keeps the journal tucked away where nobody might try and spot it, and continues to head down the alley he’d chosen to duck into. He hopes he manages to shake the enforcer off of his tail, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand the entirety of the inner workings of the Drench’s alley system, because while he doesn’t guide Savera to where he’s hiding out (or anywhere near it given the training he has received), he does end up at the end of an alley right into a dead end with no hope but to turn around and try to pass her as he realizes his mistake.
And that’s exactly what the young Bratena does, turns on his heel, tries to play it off as if he’s taken a turn too soon, and tries to bypass the enforcer that tails him in the dark looming alleyway.
holy water cannot help you now see i've come to burn your kingdom down
He leads her into a dead-end alley, and though her first thought is oh shit, a trap, it becomes quickly apparent that this isn't the case. He hasn't thought ahead enough to be clever, only managed to abandon logic and run headlong into a wall - typical, Vera thinks uncharitably as she strides through the darkness in pursuit of him, baton hanging loosely in her hand.
He tries to scurry past her and the baton comes up, striking the wall an inch from his face, a barrier for him to dare and cross. She doesn't think he's recognized her, and she can't quite decide what would be better: pull off her mask and scream in his face, or maintain anonymity and beat him into a pulp for making her worry, making her care.
She does neither, of course. Instead she fixes him with a cool gaze, grateful for the mask that hides her face, keeps him from seeing her nostrils flare with anger, the way her jaw clenches. "Going somewhere?" Savera asks, low voice modulated by the metal of her mask. She steps closer, baton sliding up the wall, closer to his face. "I've been looking for you, Sunjata Bratena."
holy water cannot help you now a thousand armies couldn't keep me out
father, father, let me figure it out i'm gonna swim in the thick of it now, i can't even tell the difference now
He’s tried so far to think things through when it came to his leaving, even going to far as to leave her a note explaining that he was leaving for Garanenz — a secretly coded message that essentially read along the lines of I can’t stay here anymore and the internal hopes that perhaps his mothers family might receive him better than Shaju treated him.
He hadn’t made it that far when Nate had uprooted his plans, however, and he’d been forced to figure it out on the go. Which, for Sunjata, never tended to end well. So he isn’t surprised when the cards don’t fall in his favor again, when the baton slaps against the cool wet stone of the building that makes up the alley, blocking his path and narrowly misses his face.
And his first thought is no wonder the Drench hates the enforcers so much, followed quickly by the way he stuffs down anything thoughts that might give him away. He clears his throat behind his own mask, shoulders shrugging lightly. “Took a wrong turn.” He murmurs, before the baton is sliding and the female enforcer speaks again and his steel gaze slides over to her, picking apart her voice through the modulation and the brief glimpse he can catch of her eyes.
“Vera.” He breathes, whether it’s from relief or even more worry, Sunjata shifts to where his back presses against the alley wall. “I can explain.” He begins, keeping his hands in the open where she could see them.
holy water cannot help you now see i've come to burn your kingdom down
Ah, there it is. She catches the moment the light turns on, the shift in his eyes, his body, his voice; she echoes it, mirrors it, stepping forward where he steps back, the steel in her spine and eyes hardening against the onslaught of his voice saying her name. She can feel herself crumbling, the fractured pieces wanting to break, but it's not something she can allow. Savera has never been able to wear her heart on her sleeve the way he does.
She isn't privileged the way he is.
You left me. She doesn't accuse him aloud, but the press of her baton against his sternum speaks more eloquently than the soldier ever could. "So explain," is what she says aloud, words clipped and voice tight as emotion tries to sneak in, to choke her.
holy water cannot help you now a thousand armies couldn't keep me out
father, father, let me figure it out i'm gonna swim in the thick of it now, i can't even tell the difference now
It’s short and clipped and Sunjata’s heart rushes into his throat, choking him for the moment, unsure where to even start. She’d seen much of it, he doesn’t know where to begin that she doesn’t already know. But the baton presses against his chest now and he exhales a shuddering breath. “I tried to leave like the note I left you. I… Couldn’t stay. If I fucked something up one more time Shaju would have found out.” About what they’d talked about. His plans to help the Drench.
“He’d already beat me for getting trapped down here after the party.” Which hadn’t been his fault. “So… I tried to leave. Couldn’t get out and couldn’t go back. I’m sorry.” It probably isn’t what she wanted to hear, and yet it’s all he has to offer. His shoulders slump from where he’s pressed against the back of the alley. “It was sudden but he cannot find out.”
Maybe it was selfish but he couldn’t actively help the Drench if he was imprisoned or dead.
holy water cannot help you now see i've come to burn your kingdom down
. Oh, she got his stupid note, but what was that in the end except another film of cowardice, an easy excuse when things got hard? You could have told me, she wants to shout in his face, to hurl back at him along with his useless note. You could have come to me. I would have--
Would have what? Stopped him? Helped him? Stood up to Shaju for him?
Some of the pressure from the baton lets up, as the iron of Savera's anger begins to turn to bitter defeat.
"So you left." The worst part is she understands it, might have done the same in his stead. But that only deepens the wound, really, because he's supposed to be better than her, supposed to be good. "You ran away to slum it with the poor. To be a hero."
Her voice is rising, the pressure behind the baton stronger than ever now. There's a quiver in her hand, a glint of what certainly cannot be tears in her eyes. "I hope it was worth it," Savera hisses, "Saving the world. Finding freedom. Leaving me alone your cage."
holy water cannot help you now a thousand armies couldn't keep me out
father, father, let me figure it out i'm gonna swim in the thick of it now, i can't even tell the difference now
The baton’s pressure lifts and Sunjata takes a shaky breath, his steel gaze softening ever so slightly as the tone in her voice starts to change. He can’t deny it. He did leave. But when it comes to slumming it with the poor, he shakes his head. “I don’t want to be a hero.” He admits with a soft frown, hidden by the mask on his face.
But her voice starts to rise and the pressure increases against his chest and he hiccups a sound as it presses into an already forming bruise. “I wanted to come back for you when I got settled.” He admits, before he shakes his head and exhales another shuttering sigh. “Vera, what did you want me to do? I couldn’t quit being an Enforcer. I wasn’t even good at it. It’s easier for my father to eventually think I died heading to Garanenz than it is keeping me up there as the continued disappointment.” And because the conversation has started to frustrate him in part with the pressure of the baton, he adds, “he would’ve found a way to kill me himself if I stayed. What’s worse? Being engaged to a disappointing traitor or an aristo’s son that got lost and drowned?”
At least this way there might be some honor left for her.
holy water cannot help you now see i've come to burn your kingdom down
In this the pair of them agree: Sunjata was a terrible Enforcer, too soft and Saints-damned empathetic to make it in the field. He should have been a diplomat, a statesman, something where he could make a difference safely- but neither of them had ever had any power over who they were, or who they were meant to be. It's a large part of what bound them in the first place.
It's also why this betrayal hurts so fucking much.
He's so damn naïve that she wants to cry. Or laugh, or hug him, hit him, shake him- something, anything to get him to see some sense. "And you really think he's going to just accept that?" the soldier scoffs, finally removing the baton from his chest. She turns away now, shaking her head, voice shaking with humorless laughter at the absurdity of where they are. "You think Shaju will let his only son just disappear? He's going to find you, Jata, and when he does you won't have a chance to embarrass him again."
As for what she would rather be? Again Savera shakes her head, but this time in disbelief. Turning back to stare at Jata, the soldier furrows her brow. "You don't get it. You being a traitor or you running away- it doesn't matter. To everyone up there I'm the Drench rat who corrupted the Arbiter's son. They blame me for your downfall. I'm fucked, Jata. You fucked me."
holy water cannot help you now a thousand armies couldn't keep me out
