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
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
It doesn’t have to be, no. But it is, and just the two of them don’t have the power to change anything. The whole of the Drench doesn’t have the power to change anything, and saints know they’ve tried. Maybe though, if he fights, Nate can bite down his initial feelings and change this. Even if it means being nice to the brat.
An enforcer passes by the mouth of the alley, and Nate shifts, releasing Sunjata’s wrist to bring his arm up and lean against him, making a show of an intimate moment. “No.” He whispers gruffly, the breath that puffs against Sunjata’s cheek still carrying my the smell of sweet sugar. “Whats different about me is that I’m listening to you.” Like an idiot, but that’s a thought just for Nate. “So relax, okay? Can you do that for me puppy?”
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
His gaze isn’t on Nate, not when his arm is moved and he’s malleable in the drencher’s hand. But he doesn’t expect Nate to drift closer, a soft almost hiccuped sound leaving him as the other man presses in, his skin flushing hard as he almost holds his breath. His gaze does lift now, again, cheek brushing against the taller man’s, brain blanking as he tries to formulate words.
“I can do that.” He whispers, swallowing hard, wondering if Nate can hear or feel his rapid heartbeat. “So are you going to take me up on my offer?” He asks, trying to find something to take his mind off of how close they are, how he never gets this close to anyone (at least not recently, unless it’s for Savera and paparazzi photos).
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
“Good boy.” Fingers drift up to brush along the soft, shaved patch on Sunjata’s head, covering it up and stroking along it as the enforcer spares them a glance and then moves along.
The question makes Nate chuckle, his head shaking gently and brushing loose curls against freckled skin. “Whats it gonna look like if the rags catch wind of Prince Brat buying a leaf for some flotsam, huh? It’ll be bad for both of us.”
Finally he leans back, opening room for Sunjata to properly breathe, just in time for the first drop of rain to splash his cheek. “You wanna help though?”
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
His eyes shut, trying to regain focus as Nate’s hand drifts along his crop of hair, as the compliment reaches him. Long lashes brush by Nate’s cheek, another shuddered breath inhaled before it’s exhaled slowly, trying to calm his senses. “Be worth it, I think.” He mumbles, eyes opening shortly after the admissions made. “But… You’re right.”
As Nate steps back, though, Sunjata takes a deep breath, eyes focusing right in time to squint at the splash of rain, the cool water a shock against his far too warm skin. “I do want to help.” He admits, reaching up now to rub at his face, spreading the water along his reddened cheek.
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
Another laugh leaves Nate, this one gentler still. Loose hair is pushed back in a smooth motion, those blue eyes covered for a moment then returning, brighter than before, to Sunjata’s face. “I know I am. And I know you think it will be, but… there’s an easier way.” A quieter one.
A bright tongue dips out between his lips again, staying caught between his teeth as Nate looks around again, staring down both ends of the alley before focusing back on the other man. “Theres a door. All it needs is a code, and I, and most other people here, can get back down where we belong.”
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
“Alright.” He breathes, unconsciously watching the way Nate pushes around the curls, a part of him wanting nothing more than to just tug on one but he activates self restraint. Instead, his gaze drops to the tongue that dips out, looking away a moment after as Nate surveys the alley. He works his jaw, readjusts his clothes as if to try and smooth out anything amiss or out of place.
Initially his reaction is no, but he truthfully does want to help not only Nate but the others too, and if it ends with him getting in trouble one way or another, what’s the harm in going big? It’s bad news for him either way. “Sure. Which door?” He asks, gaze finding Nate’s now that he’s pulled himself together enough.
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
This is where the denial should come in. Where Nate gets to gloat and rub an ‘I told you so’ in Sunjata’s face. But it doesn’t come, and instead of being upset about missing out his face lights up with a grin, both hands coming up suddenly to grab the enforcers cheeks. He leans in dangerously before catching himself with a puff of breath. “You’re insane.” Nate heard the words leave him before he even realizes he spoke them.
Playing off their closeness as an excuse to whisper now, Nate leans in closer again to brush his lips against the shell of Sunjata’s ear. “A service door, between the tram and the train station. It’s a straight shot down.” Not that the details are really needed – it isn’t as if the enforcer is going to be making the trip with him.
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
He certainly doesn’t expect the touch just as much as Nate doesn’t expect him to agree. But here they are, both surprised with the answer each other has given. Instead, Sunjata squints while Nate pinches his cheeks, brows furrowing before a muffled “I guess so,” leaves him, pure confusion lighting the way.
Was it really that insane? Absolutely. Was he going to do it anyway? Yup.
Nate leans in close again and Sunjata closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on the feel of Nate’s breath against his ear, the instruction clearly given. “We’d need a distraction.” He hums, his voice a bit more than a whisper, enough to vibrate against his throat when he utters the words. “But I can get you all home.”
the inmate loves the prison guard the one who feeds him through the bars
“Easy.” Nate promises without even thinking about it, soft laughter carrying the words. “What kind of distraction? Just enough to turn eyes away?” Maybe it should be worrying, how quick Nate is shift into scheming, how easy it happens in front of Sunjata. For the moment though, they’re compatriots, on the same side for the same cause.
An arm winds around Sunjata, pulling him away from the wall and against Nate’s side snugly, turning them back out into the drizzled streets. His other hand comes up, tugging at the back of Sunjata’s shirt to look for a hood before he groans, and stops them at the mouth again.
A group passes by them, and without hesitating Nate snatches a hat off someone’s head and walks them in the opposite direction, crushing it onto the other man’s head as soon as they’re out of sight. “do you really all need the family haircut?” He grumbles.
no day or night, no one can tell so he paints the ceiling full of stars
Nate’s chuckle rolls down his spine and he takes a deep breath trying to push through the feeling it inspires. “To distract the enforcers mostly.” But yes, turning eyes would work.
He’s pulled away from the wall abruptly, tucked into Nate’s side where the heat from the other man sucks out any potential cold from the rain that seeps down his collar, and if he wasn’t red enough as is he’d imagine there’d be steam rising from where it touches. Instead, they continue to walk together and Sunjata glances around wherever Nate guides him, feeling his hand drift up his back, pausing when the hat is shoved on his head.
It hides his shaved designation, though, and he huffs amusement at the comment, shaking his head. “I don’t exactly have a choice in it. It’d be nicer if I didn’t have to have it.” And got to grow it out longer, really. But he keeps that part quiet.
