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
Breathe silently, make the ghostly voice surrender.
Home had taken several shapes in Mallorie’s life. It had never, in her memory, taken as defined a shape as the apartment she found herself in now. It was almost like a person of its own; a roommate of a room, an impression helped by the not-infrequent sound that permeated the walls.
As fond of quiet as she was of order, she could tolerate only one at a time. The disarray of her few remaining possessions being stacked between the remnants of previous tenants was enough to make her tetchy. The persistent thudding of heavy-footed neighbours and music pushed her into irritated. For lack of something to do, she found herself applying the most basic of her skill into determining the source.
The sounds - music, stomping, and god knows what - were coming from the apartment above her. Presumably her new neighbour either didn’t know, or didn’t care that their antics could be heard several feet down.
It’s the neighbourly thing to inform them, she decided, when a particularly loud bang made the flickering light above her wobble pathetically. Clearly this person would respond to polite concern. And if not, she had enough experience dealing with…disruption that she was sure an agreement could be reached.
This was the thought that followed her as she trudged upstairs and knocked on the offending door. Quiet, then louder, given the circumstances. Too tired and annoyed to care that she had clearly been in the middle of trying to sleep. She had Things To Tell this person, and she intended to do so.
You were born for these flashing lights You were born for these endless nights
Adam kept odd hours and did even odder things in them. He quite regularly rolled back into the matchbox of an apartment he had in the early morning hours and didn't wake until at least noon; on the rare night he was in during the evening (like tonight) he was busy , tweaking with a microphone that had given up the ghost. On a table wrought with mechanical parts, he crouched himself among the components as he tried to peer into the workings of the device.
Had he kicked his boots off loudly as he came in? Of course.
Had he scraped a chair over the ground to get onto the table? Duh.
Did he keep dropping heavy metal tools on the ground when he was done? Obviously.
Absolutely unaware that any of his loud antics could be disturbing someone else, he merrily continued as he had for many blissful neighbourless years. Even for the Chokes, this place was miserable, and the place below him had had some kind of funky aura for years that made no one want to take it. Music coming from the tinny portable radio on the windowsill and the shuffling of mechanical parts sounded out into the night, as they usually did.
The knock was a surprise, then. He never had guests, not here; anyone who knew who he was didn't know about this place. Or at least, he had tried to make sure they didn't. Slowly, Adam set down the microphone, the knocking growing more insistent as he went to grab his revolver before going to open the door a couple of inches, keeping the armed hand behind. Seeing there wasn't a team of Plate soldiers there to grab him, he was a little relieved, but still suspicious enough to keep a hold on the gun. "You knock like an fucking enforcer. What do you want? It's late."
Not that he cared about it being late, but that was a thing that people said when they had unwanted visitors.
Breathe silently, make the ghostly voice surrender.
It was, in actuality, maybe a few minutes, but it felt like she was standing in the hallway for an eternity before the door opened. The weight of sleeplessness always made everything feel a bit syrupy, time included.
She was surprised when, through the crack of the door, she saw a man younger than her, with sharp eyes. The sort that seemed to size a person up in seconds. Mallorie knew that sort of gaze - the gaze of someone who had reasons to assess the people around them. She narrowed her own eyes back and took in what features she could as she spoke.
“It is late, and you are loud.” She said, made curt by the endless thuds and only half muted music she’d endured since moving in.
The man seemed wiry, wary, and she knew how to recognise when someone was bracing themselves for a threat. But still, her irritation spilled out of her before she could stop herself.
“I can’t say I’m surprised you’re familiar enough with enforcers to know one by their knock. Other people in this building need to sleep, you realise?”
Not the stupidest thing she could say, but also not the smartest. She continued staring at her neighbour grimly.
You were born for these flashing lights You were born for these endless nights
The chastisement caught Adam by surprise. It wasn't that he doubted he was loud; he knew that and was almost proud of it. It was that he'd been just this loud for many, many years in this room and this was the first time anyone had come up to object to it. His hand holding the gun loosened a little, Adam relaxing, though still saying nothing due to his bemusement at the situation. This was the Drench - it was the Chokes.
People here did not usually politely respect bedtimes.
The enforcer comment was definitely meant as an insult but he didn't take it that way, grinning and nodding. It was only when the question turned to him he remembered he was meant to be apologising for the noise, or at least saying something about it.
"Uh...I mean, I'm sorry and all, but no one's lived down there for years. You gotta be new, right?" She seemed new. "And like...there's the street outside and the guy across from you who is constantly jacking it and the ones underneath who have like a million kids. I think you'd better get some earbuds." Adam turned into his apartment to see if he had any headphones to sarcastically offer, the door opening a bit more to reveal his table of electronics and radio parts.
Breathe silently, make the ghostly voice surrender.
Mallorie didn’t, if she was honest, expect such an easy apology. It took her aback for a moment, her own state of mind having convinced her to gear up for at least some sort of argument. Instead, her upstairs neighbour seemed…if not honest, then reasonable. Somewhat. Maybe.
She rubbed her face, and nodded.
“I moved in about a month ago. I would have introduced myself except,” Mallorie looked around the hallway, “I got the feeling that wasn’t really the etiquette here.”
That was one way of saying she was pretty sure it was a surefire way to get punched; had it not been for a fortnight’s interrupted sleep she probably wouldn’t have bothered with this interaction either. But, here she was, talking to a man with sharp eyes and a…less sharp presence. His presence didn’t so much scream disreputable as it oozed it. Still, he seemed largely civil for the moment, so Mallorie ignored the way he seemed to be made up entirely of frayed edges.
She had heard some of the noises he’d pointed out (had hoped half-heartedly that there was an innocent explanation for certain sounds she’d endured), and sighed.
“You’re not the only source of noise, but you are, currently, the most pervasive. Do you work exclusively at night? And in here?”
It wasn’t intended as a jab, though she didn't have much energy to care much if it came across that way. When he opened the door she spotted electronics scattered across several surfaces and blinked at him, a little blearily.
“Electrician?” She asked, at least partly genuinely curious.
You were born for these flashing lights You were born for these endless nights
"...What, you think we don't have names down in the Drench or something?" Adam asked with a snort, raising an eyebrow at Mallorie and her weird Plates attitude. While it was true that neighbours here weren't often on good terms, it wasn't unheard of to say hello, perhaps even make some friends. "Not all of us stab on sight, y'know."
Admittedly, this was a point that was made weaker by the gun still in his hand, but Mallorie didn't know about that.
The questions caught him off guard, Adam shifting his weight and using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck, frowning at a spot on the floor. "Uh, no, not exclusively, but uh...I dunno, this is just when I kinda...do...stuff..." Without getting into the various things that kept him awake (drugs, nightmares, etc) he didn't have much of a good reason for being up at this hour. "I actually work somewhere else. This is just..."
He looked back to the table, the electronics parts still scattered haphazardly around, and shook his head. "Nah. Not smart enough for that. I um....run a little radio station. But supplies aren't easy to come by down here, y'know? Gotta make do." For now, it seemed safer to not mention what exactly his station broadcasted, though he was sure his entire appearance made it clear it wouldn't be fawning over the Arbiter.
"...What're you doing? If you just came from the plates? Most people run drugs when they first come down, someone got you doing that?"
Breathe silently, make the ghostly voice surrender.
That was…a fair point, Mallorie conceded. She was new to Drench culture, but there was no reason to assume people didn’t have some form of manners or etiquette. She inclined her head apologetically and gave him her name, if only out of slight contrition rather than true neighbourly intent.
Adam’s reaction to her question caught Mallorie’s attention; she’d seen that sort of evasiveness before and knew what it meant. A desire to give half truths was generally indicative of someone for whom truth was a liability. She took mental note of the parts, of Adam’s response, and she quietly mused that if there was ever a raid of this building then Adam’s apartment would be the likely target.
“I had noticed supplies were sparse,” She said, gaze flicking from his electronic debris to his face.
It took her a moment to register what, exactly, he had just suggested to her, and she blinked at him. Wasn’t entirely sure how to reply without sounding like the squeaky clean enforcer she was - or at least had been. Several variations of no, why, do you know people doing that?, ran through her mind before she eventually settled on, “Drugs? No. That’s - no.”
Eloquent, she chided herself silently. Then she added, aloud, “Do I seem like that sort to do that?”
Not that it mattered. The other half of his query was trickier to answer, and she frowned a little in the attempt.
“I'm...reorienting. Life up top can be...tiring.” She assumed, perhaps stupidly, that this would be enough for Adam.
You were born for these flashing lights You were born for these endless nights
Mallorie sounded like a Plates name, all pretty edges and three whole syllables, but Adam didn't say anything about it, just nodding and giving his own name in kind, Pikely not included; the chances of her being so up on her history to know the name of a revolutionary from 20 years ago were slim, but not nothing.
"You...did? Do you know anything about radios? Electronics?" He asked, unable to quite hide the excitement in his voice at this prospect. Usually, most people around here looked completely lost when he began to tell them about his work and while he wasn't going to trust Mallorie with anything just yet, he had been hoping to find someone that could help out with the radio station. Someone who was desperate for some work, maybe had some insider tips about the Plates...he began to re-evaluate her.
Leaning behind the door for a moment to put the gun in a coat pocket out of view, he came back to the opening to begin to undo chains and bolts, a comical amount undone before he could properly swing the door back. "Hey, look, all sortsa people run all sortsa shit down here. I don't judge. It's hard to come by decent work as it is." Stepping back, gesturing with one sweep of his arm for Mallorie to come in, he tilted his head. "You sound tired. And I know it's cos I woke you up or whatever, but more than that. You wanna come in? I got beers and a couch."
Breathe silently, make the ghostly voice surrender.
“I’m no expert, but we used them sometimes in my old job.” Mallorie said, though if truth be told she wasn’t generally assigned to radio work. The extent of her work with them was generally being in the room while someone else turned dials and took notes. Still though, she was surprised to find someone apparently interested in the devices without the impetus of a paycheck, and the way Adam perked up was at least mildly endearing. Almost enough to make her forget her irritation - almost.
The door swung open and Mallorie couldn’t help taking a reflexive glance at the living space revealed to her; nothing immediately dangerous caught her eye, though any suspicions about the legitimacy of Adam’s work were neither confirmed nor denied by what she saw.
She nodded.
“People do what they can to survive, I suppose. Though there are limits.”
What limits she might have were still being untangled. She hesitated at the suggestion of beer, not a drinker by nature or interest, but…then again…she’d never been a Drencher by nature, before now. And if she was meant to be starting a new life then maybe new experiences would help her to blend in. Make connections.
Mallorie accepted the gesture to enter, and peered around herself curiously.
Beer, electronic bits, and the reason she’d not had a sound night’s sleep in over a week, she thought to herself. If nothing else, she might get a lead on some work.
You were born for these flashing lights You were born for these endless nights
"Which was...? Can't imagine Plates radio is much fun. Must just be bitching about each others kids and planning their shit parties." He had actually, over the years, tuned into plenty of radio broadcasts from up above - usually hard to get a good signal, but they could be useful for snippets of information, or at the very least learning what the Platers believed to be true.
Adam noticed the way Mallorie analysed his room, but he supposed that was to be expected; if he had a new neighbour as sexy and cool as he was, he would also want to know all he could about them. The room was not large, maybe in total twenty by ten feet, but he had made good use of all the space available. A kitchenette, consisting of a counter, sink and stove had cabinets above, one of which was slightly ajar and revealed a lot of packaged snacks for quick eating. Ashtrays were present on most horizontal surfaces in the room and while the window was open, there was a lingering scent of a peppery smoke in the air.
The bed in the far corner was not made and looked like it never had been, clothes thrown about it. Next to that a door which presumably led to the bathroom, then the desk with his parts on. In the middle of the space an ancient couch sat; Adam patted the back of it and went to grab two cans of a cheap-looking beer from one of the cupboards by the sink, which upon closer inspection had an ice drawer (mostly melted, he noted).
"Here. It's uh...not good, but y'know. It's wet." He said as he handed Mallorie a can, then went to sit at the desk, leaning out his long legs and balancing on the two back ones of the chair. "...So are you some nobles kid? Wife? Gotta know if I'm dealing with a Lady."
