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
When Samuel had first been welcomed into the ranks of Bravlet house, he'd been surprised by Kyrie. Coming into the centre of the Plates Military, he'd expected everyone to be deadly serious, straight lipped and only wanting to ever discuss strategy or the latest incursion. Instead, he'd found himself faced with something he really hadn't know how to deal with: cheeriness.
Still, over time they had worked out a kind of working relationship, especially once he'd seen her work on the field. Out there she was ruthless, not a bit the bouncy person he'd met when he'd arrived. Sam respected her strength, even if he didn't understand her attitude.
Then his injury had come and taken away his time on the fronts. Even Enforcer duty had been off the table - it was hard to appear intimidating when he could hardly walk a few steps without a cane, mask or no mask. His descent to strategic advisor had been so swift and brutal he'd barely had the chance to say goodbye to those he regularly went to battle with, including Kyrie.
Not that he never saw her (after all, they lived in the same house, though very different levels of it), but without the draw of the fight to bring them together, they had grown distant. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he had begun to convince himself that she had to think him weak. Perhaps if he had put work into a miracle recovery, tried to claw his way back to duty despite the missing muscle in his leg...
Maybe it was these thoughts that had kept him from talking to her beyond the most basic of hellos for some time. However, on this day when he saw her approach along one of the outdoor paths, by the bench he had chosen to sit on and drink his morning tea (black, no sugar, no milk, strikingly hot) he felt an odd compulsion to wave and motion for her to sit with him. "Good Morning, Ma'am. Do you have a moment?"
This planet's overrun There's nothing left for you or for me
take a breath 'cause she's gonna pull you down step in a little closer
Huh? Her brows tic together in microconfusion before she has a chance to hide the reaction. Sam? Asking her to stop?
It wasn’t that it was rude, uncalled for, or even out of the realm of possibility. It’s that they just don’t… interact much anymore. At all. They don’t have the same social circles and let’s face it, Kyrie would drive the folks in the strategy room crazy with her inability to take it vErY sErIoUsLy. So what was once an amicable and decent working relationship had evaporated into cordial head nods in hallways. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that jazz.
Nevertheless, she does - and rather abruptly, too, jerking back mid-step to come to a screeching halt. “Oh. Of course. And please, Sam, just Kyrie.” She’s not a total bitch, after all; exchanging blows together means something to her. And really, she’s just on her way to shower, so there is time. Flashing a close-lipped grin towards the sitting man, she sharply, officially changes her direction and casually sits down in the chair across from him. Her arms and forehead still glisten with evidence of an early morning workout, and she reclines in a way that suggests she might actually be in need of something to replenish her energy.
“What’s up?” she asks, finding her curiosity growing, unable to pinpoint any recent or urgent news that might require them to speak.
"Kyrie. Right." Sam nodded, immediately deciding to avoid calling her that at all costs. There were very few people he was close enough to to call by their first name and with the distance that had grown between them since his injury, it was almost mortifying to him to imagine calling his superior by her name. Honestly, now that he'd had a second to sink in the consequences, he had no idea why he'd called her over anyway.
Did he want friends? Surely not. He didn't need those.
He had to justify this conversation somehow, though. Trying not to look too appalled at himself, he quickly tried to grasp a vaguely relevant topic from his mind. "I just...wanted to ask your opinion on some matters. Such as the lockdown and the tram failure - what do you think of it all?"
This planet's overrun There's nothing left for you or for me
take a breath 'cause she's gonna pull you down step in a little closer
Her opinions? She is once again a tad confused and has to pause before replying because her opinions on the matters mirror Kosbra’s, obviously. Surely Sam had spoken to the Bravley head recently? Unwilling to hide her puzzlement, one of Ky’s eyebrows arch before languidly answering.
“The lockdown was clearly the right thing to do until the perpetrators were found. It’s unfortunate that Shaju and the Enforcers can’t seem to make any headway, but…” shrugging, Kyrie seems to indicate that there’s nothing to be done. The two families control different parts… if they handed responsibility over to the Bravlets, it might be a different story, but she would never make that kind of suggestion out here, in public, to someone she doesn’t really know. “It’s the right way to handle it.” For now.
As for the tram breakdown - that is more troubling. Troubling is what Kyrie doesn’t think about until she has to; until knives have to come out and blood has to flow into the muddy waters of the Drench, keeping their world safe and order intact. Chaos is no one’s friend. “But the tram failure wasn’t us, and it’s suspicious. If Kosbra has theories about why and why, he hasn’t yet shared them with me.”
Were he not in front of his superior and desperately trying to save face, Sam could have groaned when he saw Kyrie's eyebrow raise. Her answer was diplomatic, exactly what he'd expect to hear, but he nodded as if it were a deeply interesting insight. At the very least, he could contribute something: "I've been trying to assist with the search for Sunjata. I thought the lockdown might make it easier - more protection at our borders must mean he is still within the city - but so far we have not located him." To someone not in his own ranks, he would have obfuscated their success (or rather lack thereof), but there was no point lying here - Kyrie would likely read his report on the matter anyway.
As for the tram...he was surprised to hear that Kyrie had not been privy to her brother's thoughts. Usually it was accepted what one knew, the other would hear; did Kosbra have a reason to keep any findings secret?
"I see." He said quietly, trying to gauge how she might take a further question about it. Of course, he couldn't outright ask if she felt the head of their house were hiding something, but if there was one thing he'd learnt in the Plates, it was that no one said exactly what they meant. "I could dispatch more Enforcers around the stations, if you feel it would be of benefit. If there is a chance of Drench involvement..."
This planet's overrun There's nothing left for you or for me
take a breath 'cause she's gonna pull you down step in a little closer
Ah, yes, she’d heard - who hadn’t? - of the missing Bratena heir apparent. She should probably care more about it, buttttt it really had nothing to do with her directly. It was very conveniently not a Bravlet problem. Not even a Kyrie problem. She and Sunjata weren’t friends. At most, she figures it’s potentially a Plates problem.
Potentially.
Which makes it currently mostly boring. “Mmmm yes, shame about Sunjata,” she offers in an off-handed, obvious lip-service kind of way, one leg bouncing off the other at the knee. She adjusts herself and swings her legs over the arm of the chair so that she’s reclining a bit more. “Wasn’t he headed out of the city?” It’s a genuine question. Kyrie keeps her head out of Enforcer affairs, but one can’t help but hear the little birdies when they tweet.
Waving a hand to flag down a passing servant, the Bravlet asks them to bring her a coffee, with milk, and they looks at Samuel, giving him room to order something if he wished. On her tab, of course.
And then it’s back to the last question, which she has to laugh a little at, the tinkling sound falling carelessly out of her mouth. “That’s another Kosbra question. Or Shaju, really. I haven’t had much to do with the Enforcers for a few years now. I’m of much better use up here.” Her head tilts a little, fully realizing just how long it’s been since they’ve really interacted. “What do you do these days, Sam? What kind of advising?”
Sam could hear the dismissive, 'I-don't-really-care' tone in Kyrie's voice when she agreed about Sunjata; with her being his superior he couldn't comment, but internally he wondered if she really understood what it meant to have the heir to the Arbiter missing. To have who was meant to be the next leader of the Plates defect and go to the Drench, to reject his life here when he was meant to rule it. It would be chaos if the news got out (anymore than it already had).
Maybe he was just uniquely tuned to worry about these things. "Well...our latest information says that, but I believe we have reason to be skeptical. After all, with the lockdown, it would have been difficult for him to leave without being seen."
There were places he could think of to search, but many of them were too deep down in the Drench, too entrenched in alleys where the Enforcers did not go. Then there was Nate's clinic, which was certainly a possibility (he knew Nate was a particularly unscrupulous sort)...but he had his own reasons for not taking the hunt there.
"Mm. I do not have the honour of addressing Shaju directly, but maybe Kosbra..." He trailed off, distracted by the question about his own duties. Immediately, despite the pride he took in his work, despite the neutral tone of the question, he felt shame creep into his chest. Sam's eyes went down to his legs, to the cane resting against the bench. "I go where I am needed. Sometimes the war council asks for me to be present. More frequently I manage the Enforcer patrols, though. How to proceed on disbanding criminal groups...and matters like the search for Sunjata."
He glanced up at Kyrie and made a small admission: "It is good work, but...I miss the excitement of facing danger myself. Nothing is quite so interesting when seen from high above."
This planet's overrun There's nothing left for you or for me
take a breath 'cause she's gonna pull you down step in a little closer
It’s true, Kyrie likely would have chosen a better tone if she’d known the truth about Sunjata - it might have been much darker, full of perceived insult, scorn, and a true Plater’s superiority complex. But she doesn’t, Kosbra hasn’t let her in on that little secret and she’s somewhat time-locked in a tournament in the Drench. Kosbra is probably right not have told her.
But Sam is cryptic enough to wring a genuinely intrigued head tilt and another arch of her brow. “Oh?” She asks, not quite coy. Not quite flirting (she wouldn’t, with him). But also not quite willing to use her rank to make him elaborate. “What reasons?”
Kyrie listens to him describe work and there’s an answering swell of pity; Sam had been relegated to middle management. The Council offered glimmers of what he could be, but he doesn’t have the name, not like a true Mural son. “Yeah.” Her head bops in agreement. “I’d feel that way too. Sorry, Sam.” One side of her face scrunches up in a childish grimace, and It might be the most genuine thing she’s said this whole conversation.
“So this search for Sunjata,” she says abruptly, changing the topic so they don’t have to linger in uncomfortable sentimentality. “It sounds like it's bigger than is let on.”
Sighing and rubbing one of his eyes, now caught up enough in talking about work to forget he was self conscious, Sam said resignedly: "Our sources of information in the Drench are unreliable at best, outright liars at worst. Our own Enforcers are making headway, but we cannot guarantee the tips they have are accurate. It would seem...odd, for Drenchers to defend someone like Sunjata, but..." He shrugged, hands vaguely moving before him searching for an appropriate gesture to express his opinion of those below. "...I know he's expressed sympathies for extremists down there. He may be being defended by allies in those circles."
Not expecting the sudden sympathy, he hummed quietly and glanced off into the distance, wondering if his old squad pitied him. Desperately, he hoped that wasn't the case.
"Probably." Back to Sunjata, back to work and business and familarity. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment then sat back up. "It's...hard to know, though, because just how far his beliefs go in regards to the Drench isn't common knowledge. Shaju is...understandably...hesitant to speak of it."
This planet's overrun There's nothing left for you or for me
