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
With her family history of these health issues and with the awareness of what the worst possible outcome can be if she's not careful, one could think that she would be more keen on doing something about it. Like, seeking out help as soon as possible instead of slipping into a stubborn mantra of "it's not so bad" or "it will be fine" until reality manages to give her a hard enough wake-up punch to the face. Or, when she has managed to remind herself that she actually made a promise to get help.
At least this time she had tried to find help semi-early, but without much success. Thanks to the drawn-out lockdown together with everyone being sick from the algae already, the clinics she had checked either had no medicine to offer or overcharged so much even the Platers might think it's too expensive.
She still has enough energy to go outside, even if standing is enough to feel like she's been running a marathon and each shallow breath she manages to take is painful. She's not fully paying attention to exactly where she's going. Too exhausted to really connect the area to anything from her memory. She just knows there's a clinic here she has not checked yet and slowly but surely manages to make her way over to it.
Before she has a chance to do anything once inside the door, she is set upon by one of the many coughing fits she has to endure on a daily basis. She finds her way over to the nearest chair in the waiting room, where she huddles up with her face pressed into an arm and can do little else but trying to not get grabbed by panic over the lack of oxygen as one rattling cough after the other stabs her sharply in the chest.
Once it finally stops, she is left sitting hunched over, gasping for air with her hands pressed against her chest from what feels like sharp rocks grinding inside her lungs.
The reader of this text has standing permission for responsible powerplay and to use physical/magical force against this character. Instant killing and permanently maiming not included.
back long before this twisted soul I'll be something you'd rather not know this was something we chose to believe
The sound of drips running through the Drench - through his clinic - is always familiar. He's been in this building more than half his life, and it was always the same spots that leaked. It just never been quite this grating. He'd never spent quite this much time in the clinic, even during Drenak when injuries and illness were most likely to run rampant. Just steady enough to keep him from feeling comfortable leaving, and most of his help sick themselves by now. It feels like it's been days since he'd even left, hours slowing to a crawl and metamorphosing to days in his sluggish mind.
Not to mention the other stress weighing on him, sobriety long since settling in like a veil of dread.
Eyes flutter as the door rings, but Nate can't even bring himself to lift his head at first, at least not until coughing fills the room instead of a greeting. He's on his feet before he realizes, a supporting arm reached out to help the woman upright, his other hand patting her back firmly but gently. It's only then that familiarity reads, an old cartridge taking a moment after it's slotted in to be read.
"Sai, Ira, what happened?" Nate walks them towards an exam room. The evidence of dozens of others coming in and out clear on the slick tiles beneath them, but the room itself smells clean. "If you tell me I'm the first person you came to I'll scream."
She barely notices anyone coming over at first. Not until the coughing stops and she can (somewhat) breathe again is when she registers the hand on her back as she's being helped up. It takes another few seconds for her to figure out why the voice sounds familiar and she looks up at Nate with some amount of surprised confusion. "Hey... It's you." She croaks hoarsely with a weak smile, not having expected Nate to be here and she briefly forgets to answer the question as she is being guided to the exam room.
"No, this place is... Number three today... So no need to scream." She wants to scream in frustration over it, however. If she could, but she really can't. Just talking is enough to make her feel winded as it is. It isn't quite this bad in general yet the days she stays inside resting, but since she has been walking around a lot today already her lungs feel extra aggravated.
"I get these infections in my lungs more or less every Drenak." She begins as a delayed response to his question, pausing for a few short breaths to make sure no new coughing fit is about to grab her before she continues. "Sometimes it isn't like much more than a bad cold, other times it's... Much worse. This time it just... Went so quickly. M'not sure if the new disease got something to do with it or something." At least she hopes it is "just" that (or more preferable just some temporary bad luck) and not her lungs starting to have enough after years of going through this.
The reader of this text has standing permission for responsible powerplay and to use physical/magical force against this character. Instant killing and permanently maiming not included.
back long before this twisted soul I'll be something you'd rather not know this was something we chose to believe
Lips purse behind his mask, the expression somehow translated with only the crinkling of his eyes and the pinch of his brows. “Of course I’m here.” Nate wracks his brain, trying to remember if he’d told Ira what he did when they last met. “This is my clinic. It’s not all stealing drinks.” firmly guiding Ira to the table and helping her up, Nate steps back, giving her room to explain what’s going on.
The sour expression barely hidden by his mask only grows more pronounced, but at least it isn’t screaming. “Three? Isn’t anyone else helping you?” The mere thought makes him angrier than anything else, though Nate bites his tongue, keeping any further vitriol from spilling out. It’s not productive, not with Ira in the state she is.
“Have you ever been treated for it before?” The doctor turns to rifle through a drawer, pulling out something that looks like a musical horn. “Do you mind if I listen to you breathe?” Nate reaches up on his own chest and taps the place he’d be touching, right near the centre of his chest. Knowing what exactly the underlying cause of the sickness is would be ideal, even if it is being made worse by whatever is going on with the water.
She at least has no memory of Nate mentioning what he works with the first time they met, and while she can't say she's upset about learning it's his clinic, she spends the walk over to the exam room mentally wrestling with herself to not instantly dislike everything about it or of habit. She's never done well with anything medical and doctors.
The look on Nate's face has her glancing sideways at first, as if she's expecting to be given the blame for not getting any help. Just another thing she's used to when it comes to this. "They claimed they didn't have anything left 'cause of the lockdown and suddenly so many being sick..." She mutters and looks down at her hands in her lap. "Or they wanted more than I could afford."
She looks back up at Nate with a small nod when he asks if she's gotten treatment before and sighs. "Many times... At least when it's gotten too bad to deal with without help. Been a thing since I was a kid." Many years with many rounds of different medicines. She's heard that building up a resistance to the medicine itself is a thing that can happen, but she doesn't like thinking about it much. "Often being pneumonia of some kind or something like that... Weak health seems to sort of run in the family." She doesn't like thinking about that either.
She shakes her head in a silent response to the question if she minds him listening and she mostly focuses on trying to breathe as normal as possible, thought it is difficult and she almost has to force the air into her lungs in shallow breaths. The strain is made worse from her recently having walked around a lot, even if it's starting to get a little bit easier now when she gets to sit down. Nate might be able to hear a faint crackling sound from her lungs as she inhales.
The reader of this text has standing permission for responsible powerplay and to use physical/magical force against this character. Instant killing and permanently maiming not included.
back long before this twisted soul I'll be something you'd rather not know this was something we chose to believe
It's a wonder Nate manages to stay in business, running things the way he does. He's already thinking about payment plans, what the lowest he can possibly go on some of his stronger medications is. "Yeah well, I'm not that kind of place. I'll get you taken care of."
"How're you eating?" It's an offhand question while he gathers his things together and positions his stethoscope. "I know a lady down in Saltroot market does really good veg. Could ask a favour for you." He quiets while he listens to Ira's breath, waiting longer than really seems necessary just to be sure of what he's hearing.
"H'okay well, good news bad news." A furrow has appeared between Nate's brows, smile still glued in place. "Good news is I think I have something that can help." And a whole lot of not medicine things that could help, so long as she listens to his orders. He knows better than to count on that though, expecting resistance from just about anyone who comes in. "Bad news, its gonna be a lot of time on your ass."
His promise doesn't inspire much hope in her, but she keeps her doubt to herself and just settles for a couple of nods to it. The question about the eating catches her off guard, however, and she mutters a quiet "Badly?" in response without being fully sure what he is asking for. The fatigue from the minor lack of oxygen has her feeling a bit disoriented in general. Even though she's currently not busy working all the time, she's still not in the habit of remembering to eat at often as she probably should unless someone at home reminds her of it.
She remains silent while he listens to the breathing and does her best to not start fidgeting restlessly when it takes a while. When he's finally done, she does note the furrow between his brows and doesn't seem to have much of a reaction to the good news bad news. As if she doubts the good ones and is not surprised there're bad ones. She looks mostly cautious when told he's got something that can help, then she almost rolls her eyes at the bad news about having to be still. Though before she can say anything, more of the rattling coughs decides to rake through her lungs.
"Alright..." She groans once able to speak again and presses a hand against the sharp ache in her chest. "What are you offering?" She already knows that staying put indoors is going to be a huge struggle, something she often only manages to do if she actually can't get out of bed at all.
The reader of this text has standing permission for responsible powerplay and to use physical/magical force against this character. Instant killing and permanently maiming not included.
back long before this twisted soul I'll be something you'd rather not know this was something we chose to believe
There is something knowing in the tired look Nate lifts up towards Ira’s face, something that had been expecting that answer, that was already planning to call in a favour owed. A pad of paper is fished out of a drawer, the corners curled and yellowed with damp. It’s going to hold his instructions for care, obviously, but also the address of a woman who’d set Ira up with some kind of regular food delivery - maybe the guilt of someone else providing it would be incentive for her to eat right.
“A week of bed rest. Somewhere warm, and as dry as you can get it. Do you have someone who can take care of you?” The pen, dutifully scribbling as Nate speaks, pauses so the doctor can look up at her curiously. Almost as quickly as he does though, he turns away again, not wanting to subject Ira to the scrutiny. Instead he opens another cupboard, this one needing a key that he fumbles in his pocket for, and pulls out a small dark bottle.
Setting it down between them with a soft clunk, Nate focused his gaze on the glass instead of his patient. “This should help. A spoonful in the morning, and if you’re having trouble sleeping one in the evening too.” The slip of paper he’d been filling with instructions is torn away and placed beside the bottle. “If you haven’t improved by the time it’s gone come and see me again, I’ll get you more, and do another check up.”
She avoids to properly meet his tired gaze and then watches as he moves about, producing the yellowed paper to write on. Hearing that he'd like her to rest for a week isn't too discouraging. Even she should be able to do that. Hopefully. Perhaps with some difficulty and struggle with restlessness, but she would do her best to follow through. When Nate pauses to give her the curious look after asking if she has someone to take care of her, she does look back at him this time and huffs softly.
"Yeah, I do. His place's warm and dry enough as long as we don't get another huge rainstorm." Just like a lot of places in the Drench. She doesn't bother mentioning her own place having even better living conditions by Drench standards, since she's not planning on going back there anyway. It would lose her the care and supportive company as well.
Her attention drifts to the bottle when it is placed down, then reaches for the paper to skim through the instructions while nodding along to what Nate is telling her. She pauses briefly at the part about the food, but quickly pushes any thoughts about that away for now and folds the paper away into a pocket before looking back up at Nate. "Thanks." She says quietly and reaches for the bottle as well. "Don't think I actually caught that you're a doctor the first time we met. Thought it could've been for the best. Think you gave me a better first impression." A small smile tugs at a corner of her mouth as she glances up from the bottle.
The reader of this text has standing permission for responsible powerplay and to use physical/magical force against this character. Instant killing and permanently maiming not included.
back long before this twisted soul I'll be something you'd rather not know this was something we chose to believe
“Sounds like a dream.” Even with the joking tone, there is clear envy in Nate’s voice. Times like this a dry, warm bed is a godsend, a luxury he is not privy to, unless he sleeps in his office. Or bunks with Adam, and dealt with the way his building always managed to make some new, deeply unsettling sound every time he went over.
Something that is trying very hard to be a huff of laughter coughs out of Nate, his eyes slipping away from Ira. “It’s uh… not exactly something I make a habit of sharing if I’m breaking the law.” He explains with an air of distraction, his shoulders rolling in a shrug. “Hopefully the whole impression is still good though.” Bright eyes finally return to hers, less concern on Nate’s face than before he schools himself towards professionalism again.
“Do you ah, have any other concerns?” Fingers tap on his clipboard, a senseless rhythm while he watches her.
