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
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
This deep into the warrens of the Rickets is the kind of place you only go when you need to keep a low profile. Maybe when you’re making illicit deliveries to loyal and trustworthy customers. Maybe when you’re trying to keep from being noticed by the wrong people (whoever they might be) on your unfortunately unavoidable trip into the Drench.
Maybe one runs into the other (almost literally) and immediately hooks an arm around her shoulders. “Hey Rara. Haven’t seen you for a bit. How’ve you been?” Nate’s tone is bright and bubbly, laced with a handful of little barbs to press at her, and test his limits for the meeting.
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
Oh now if this isn't the exact pile of shit she didn't want to step in. It takes everything she has not to physically recoil as Nate's arm snakes over her shoulder. "Wren," the soldier replies disdainfully, reaching up with slender fingers to pluck off the offending hand and drop it at his side. "Almost sounds as if you missed me." The tone of her voice leaves no question that the feeling isn't mutual.
It's not that Nate himself is entirely awful; it's what he represents that makes her so unhappy, causes Savera's skin to crawl and jaw to firmly set. These little trips down to the Drench might even have been pleasant, had people like the doctor not been around to remind him of just how muddy her boots still are. "I'm sure you've been on your best behavior, vis-à-vis the Arbiter's latest decree?" Savera continues walking as she speaks, uncomfortably comfortable as she strides through the Rickets, the uneven streets still familiar after all these years. It's her confidence more than her attire that makes the woman blend in, stops anyone from pausing to wonder why a Plate-dwelling-would-be-Bravlet is slumming it down here.
Grass is green and it’s always sunny Hands so bloody, tastes like honey
(This post was last modified: 09-28-2022, 12:14 AM by Savera.)
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
Hands to himself then. At least for the moment. A grin spreads across his face as he leans in instead, so close he nearly headbutts her, gently at least. “Is that a crime now? You gonna lock me up?” It’s a challenge in the same way it’s an admission, the same way all of this is really a game. (The same way that it’s really not.)
Falling into step beside Savera is so easy it feels like second nature, Nate answering while they go without a care for the destination. “Course I have been, I’ve always been a good boy haven’t I? Kept my nose clean? Unlike some people.” A teasing elbow digs into her ribs, saying the implication lots enough that he doesn’t need to speak it. “ You having fun being on the other side now?”
Nate’s presence is as much a mask as it is a beacon, a fact that they both know, no matter how Nate ignores it. “I actually did wanna come find you you know.”
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
Oh, she would love to lock him up, her fingers itching for the space at her side where her sword doesn't currently hang. Instead she keeps her jaw set, walking onwards down the tight sprawl of the streets. It burns to be seen the way he sees her, this absolute unit of a boogeyman who haunts her through the Drench. She retaliates the only way she can: by taking narrow passages, ducking under scaffold, moving fluidly through tight crowds that he will have to bully his way against, the way he bullies her.
It's petty, but it makes her smile.
She doesn't answer his question about being on the other side, half because he's not sure which side he means and half because she doesn't know what her answer is. But when he says he's been looking for her the soldier only scoffs. "Of course you did," she mutters darkly, not glancing his way. "Let me guess- need help with the rent?" It's a code, of course, and she rolls her eyes as she says it, but rules must be followed in the game that they play.
Grass is green and it’s always sunny Hands so bloody, tastes like honey
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
It is a fight to stay at Vera's heels, but it's a task Nate has experience with. Not only with her, though he would consider himself an expert, but with simply moving through the alleys and crowds anyway. He spends each day here, he has never truly been much smaller than he is now. He can keep on her heels with no sweat.
The laugh that rasps out of Nate is not friendly sounding in the least, skipping along the surface of her pond until it drops, along with his grin, sinking to the clouded, muddy depths. "Lookit that. Clever. No wonder you left us all behind, you fit right in with the rest of them up there." He scoffs, and winds an arm around Savera's shoulders again, pulling her close with a firmer hand this time. "Landlady's on the warpath again. Bumped up the price." Fingers dig in and squeeze, enough to leave reminders of this visit. "Way you got the sun on your shoulders though, shouldn't be an issue, right Ra-ra?"
They turn sharply, veering into the mouth of an alley where Nate spins away from her, eyes still burning like a predators. There is something shaky in the grin, as there always is, something off balance, but right now when he looks at her there is disappointment. Upset. Foreign enough to his visage that it takes a moment to truly place them.
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
This time Savera doesn't shake off Nate's arm; nor does she make any effort to disguise her displeasure at his touch. She can feel him twist the knife with every carefully crafted word, familiar fury twisting in her gut; how does he always know just how to get to her, exactly where to land his blows to leave her bloody and bruised? I didn't leave, she wants to rage, but that's not really true: even if the choice to climb hadn't initially been hers, every step up the ladder Savera had fought for on her own.
"Don't call me that," Savera snarls softly as Nate finally pulls away, the space between them crackling with unspent, palpable tension. The soldier's body is stiff and wound as she faces off with the doctor, a predator frozen in the moments before the strike as she contemplates - not for the first time - gutting him then and there. It would save her an awful lot of trouble, she thinks, a knife hilt already against her palm - and she could get away with it, she's powerful enough, protected by her engagement and her position on the Plates. She could pull out a blade and sever this, the tie that keeps her coming back, that grounds her in the mud. She could kill him now and be done with it.
She doesn't. She never does.
Instead she sighs and crosses her arms, affecting an air of aloof boredom that seems to sneer I don't have time for your shit. "How much do you need?" Savera asks dryly, seemingly as disinterested as though this were an every day haggling exchange. "This is the last time for a while. At least until things settle down."
Grass is green and it’s always sunny Hands so bloody, tastes like honey
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
“You don’t like it anymore?” Nate’s head cocks to the side, narrowed eyes locked on her. “Which do you prefer now? Vera? Or just Bravlet?” His tone drags the name through the foulest pit of the Drench, the way he spits after it almost unnecessary to add to the disrespect. Knowledge of the limit doesn’t do anything to keep him from leaning over it, teetering on the thin thread of her patience, but it’s a line he trusts for reasons he can’t fully place.
Curls bounce as his head cocks to the other side, picking up the switch with a twitch of his nose, irritation simmering quietly. “Double.” The answer comes after a lazy moment of thought, the doctor finally looking away from the soldier to check the mouth of the alley.
“How longs a while?” He demands to know, blue eyes only returning to Savera once he’s sure the coast is clear. Nate reaches up to push his hair back out of his face, tugging on his earlobe in an upset tell that is more obvious than he means. “Rents usually pretty regular.”
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
When had she ever like it? Certainly not since she met him, though that Nate should have knowledge of her childhood nicknames somehow does not surprise Savera as much as it should. But she raises her eyebrow at the venom of Bravlet, apparently un-phased by the dirt in his tone. "Not yet," Savera answers, emphasis pointed: Not yet, but soon. Soon I will be something powerful. Something even you cannot touch.
What will that power cost her?
Everything.
It takes everything she has not to laugh out loud at his demand, and even so a scoff comes out, muted by the alley. "I can't do double." It's not a plea or protest so much as statement of fact, said without specific inflection over her crossed arms. "I can barely afford what I'm paying now. People will notice if I add anything else." Which is less than true, but he doesn't need to know that. A girl's entitled to some secrets from her blackmailer, after all.
She catches the way he tugs on his ear, the anxious fluttering of fingers near his face, though Saints be damned if she knows what it means. Assumes he's just worried about missing pay - which, like, fuck him. It's her life on the line. "Sorry, Natey," Savera sneers, kicking abruptly off the wall. "Maybe it's time for you to find someone else to screw. Or even make like the rest of us and - gasp - get a real job."
Grass is green and it’s always sunny Hands so bloody, tastes like honey
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
It’s Nate’s turn to scoff, to push off the wall and shove curls back away from his face just so he can sneer more clearly down a crooked nose. “What, beating your ex neighbours? Yeah, that’s a great gig sweetheart, sign me up.” The venom in his tone makes up for the way the barb doesn’t quite hit the target, at least as far as the delivery is concerned.
“You know,” a shaky grin spreads across his face, “it’s alright if you can’t do double. I got other ways of getting my lasti.” Nate leans back again, drawing up to his full height and towering over her smugly. “I mean, it sets me up for a while to change not yet to never.”
A low chuckle babbles out of him, hands digging in pockets for a silver case and a hand rolled smoke. “We can work together though, right? You and me, Rara, we’re a team.”
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
"Because your hands are so clean?" Savera snaps back. "Maybe I should talk to Eivers, have him come do the next inspection of your precious little clinic..." The threat lies heavy in the air, a small reminder that two can play this game. Sure, maybe Nate's leverage is stronger, but she's not without her own ammunition for this fight.
If he wants to impress her with his height then he's shit out of luck. Savera glares up with defiance sparking in dark eyes, a challenge in her drawl. "Sure. Go ahead. I'm sure the Plater who replaces me will be a real delight."
Then Nate is digging in his pocket, and on instinct Savera extends her hand to bum a smoke. This is an old song and dance, and as much as she hates to admit it Nate is right. "The dream team," Savera mutters, raising the cigarette to her lips. "You done swinging your cock around yet?"
Grass is green and it’s always sunny Hands so bloody, tastes like honey
