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
“I take care of people, Savera.” Nate hisses sharply, his fists clenching at his sides before he sighs through his teeth. Fingers loosen again, and rise to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Thats not what what I fucking want. You know that.” The point isn’t actually about driving her away, it’s about getting her back where she belongs.
They come back together though, like they always do, like they always have. It’s familiar. Nate lights a second smoke off the tip of his own and offers it out, leaning against the wall beside her and grinning. “It’s been a while, I had to break it in again.” He works his jaw and takes a long drag off his smoke. “I get twitchy when it’s been a while.”
Sniffing and spitting on the alley floor, Nate takes another drag and sighs. “So how do we both walk away happy Rara?”
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
She inhales a deep drag on the cigarette, not looking back at Nate. Now that the necessary posturing is over Savera feels almost relaxed, comforted by the familiarity of this age-old scene. Snorting as she flicks ash to the ground, she rolls her eyes at his comment and grin. "You must've been a fucking terror as a child," she mutters to herself.
As to how they walk away happy? Her lips twitch in a mirthless smile that clearly says we don't. "I can pay you this month's, and try to do one-and-a-half next time," she concedes, though when next time will come she's not sure she can say. "And get me a list. I might be able to make sure some of the supplies that come through the barricade are rerouted your way."
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
The mutter sparks a loud laugh from the doctor, surprising both of them with its suddenness. All Nate can do in its aftermath is grin like it was intentional and shake his head at his strange bedfellow. “You’re such a bitch.” There’s no small amount of fondness in the words, despite their relative quiet leaving him.
It’s back to business though, and with their huff done and his mood restored, Nate is even more willing to nod along with her terms without a fight. “Guess it’ll have to do, eh?” There’s no mention made on his side either about when next time will be. Maybe it’s stupid, but Nate does trust Savera to keep her word, or at least to try.
“I might have a different fiddle to play for supplies though. If it doesn’t pan out I’ll send a list the usual way.” He leans in close and offers a hand out to her, his smoke hanging out the corner of his mouth lazily. “That work for you Rara?”
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
"Yup." Why deny it? She isn't ashamed to be a bitch.
She raises a brow at the different fiddle, trying very hard to suppress the sinking feeling that she knows exactly who he's talking about. "Don't do anything stupid," Savera cautions, though whether for his sake, Jata's, or her own is unclear. They're all tied together now, even if they don't yet know the extent of it. But Nate she trusts to find his feet it all goes sideways. Jata? Not so much.
It's a little more shit talk and shop talk, and money swaps hands. She thinks about asking him if he wants to grab a bite, but it feels just slightly too chummy, especially given her new suspicions about his involvement in her fiancee's hairbrained schemes. So with a final set of barbs the pair breaks apart, going back into their own spheres of the world, she above and he below - until the next time their magnetic pull crashes them together, at least.
Grass is green and it’s always sunny Hands so bloody, tastes like honey
