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f20202020-09-15 12:53 am
- allison hargreeves ⧓ krakoa,
- anders ⧒ the white tower,
- beckett mariner ⧓ twin cities,
- cecelia ardenbury ⧓ olin vale,
- count dooku ⧓ the white tower,
- david alleyne ⧓ krakoa,
- declan lynch ⧓ sanctum aurorae,
- finn onaru ⧒ the white tower,
- fuu hououji ⧓ eden,
- jin bubaigawara ⧒ twin cities,
- jonathan walsh ⧓ northwestern imperium,
- kang ⧓ seekers of the new dawn,
- kylo ren ⧓ sanctum aurorae,
- lucina ⋈ ␣,
- luther hargreeves ⧓ krakoa,
- midnighter ⧒ the white tower,
- number five hargreeves ⧓ krakoa,
- padmé amidala ⧓ luminary,
- pepper potts ⋈ the white tower,
- rey ⧓ the white tower,
- ronan lynch ⧓ sanctum aurorae,
- rude ⧒ olin vale,
- stephen strange ⧓ the white tower,
- tony stark ⧓ the white tower,
- wei wuxian ⧓ house of m,
- wen ning ⋈ house of m,
- xue yang ⧓ sanctum aurorae
SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2020: THE SYNOD IS CONVENING.
THE SYNOD
While the Gates are the simplest form of transportation, those making the journey to the Synod from the White Tower have the option of travelling by train, if they wish. Despite the playfully grim moniker, there haven't been any recorded fatalities on board the Death Train in many years. Or ever, really. Raw, untamed entropy doesn't do anything as simple as kill.
For that delightful reason, passengers will be reminded at frequent intervals not to attempt to leave the train once it enters the active zone of the Porter's defenses, or to do anything that could jeopardise the integrity of its shielding.
The journey is relatively comfortable and takes approximately two and a half hours. A limited menu of pastries and alcohol is available from the buffet car. The smallest tables seat two.
As the train passes through the entropy-saturated wasteland of the Deathdome, the view from the heavily tinted windows of each of the train's four-person cars is impossible to comprehend: every atom of the landscape is in a constant state of flux, scattered in endless possibilities across the multiverse.
WELCOME CARPET
Inside, you get the impression of three towers; no view from outside is possible. You're totally sealed inside for the week, by the same Fate-built tech that shields this place from the ravages of cosmic radiation— the train station is built into the structure, entrance tunnel hermetically sealed.
You're greeted by welcome robots, primitive little things full endless enthusiasm and covered in dents. What they lack in intelligence they make up for in persistence and durability. Each and every ImPort is assigned their own personal robutler.
Though they tend to hinder more than help.
Boop boop boop boop. They provide you with a complimentary swag bag. Inside is one (1) t-shirt, one (1) top of the line tablet (pre-loaded with this year's Agenda and a simple game app that looks suspiciously like 2048), a stress ball, personalised souvenir pen and eraser (but no pencil), and of course, a lanyard keycard for accessing the comfortably adequate accommodations provided for all attendees.
Given the week-long Synod, your room itself is a decent suite, furnished with dark colors, redolent with a smell you can't quite place. You may find yourself assigned an unexpected roommate, which may feel awkward considering you'll find arrayed on the beds, a half-dozen complimentary tickets to the spa, restaurants and the power gym, with its preternaturally durable equipment.
Robutlers constantly remind: do not attempt to leave the Porter facility or do anything to jeopardise the integrity of its shielding.
Talks and panels take place in the convention area, which feels like a miniature city within the Porter's defenses, a hive with padded audience seats, wide stages, and complete with holographic audiovisual equipment that's curiously compatible with presentation software from every city.
Here, ImPorts will present and debate various topics regarded as major concerns for all. [OOCly, players are invited to suggest topics! Scroll down; they will be added below.]
This is also something of an expo, where cities practically demonstrate— or show off their good works. From the latest hovertechnology models to demonstrations of healing powers, playful duels in the forcefield-enclosed stages to magical books that temporarily transfer skills on touch, this is the place to pretend you're showing off your cards... while playing the most important ones close to your chest.
PANELS AND DEBATES
Every night of the Synod, ImPorts gather to dine in a grand hall with a ballroom party. Each dinner is hosted by one ImPort city, gruntwork complete with robutlers-- which guarantees food safety, and complete with multiple cuisine options, cultural decor, and entertainment.
Given the range of cities represented, food options vary from greasy burgers to six courses of seafood and blue venison, and rarefied vegan fare.
When ImPorts aren't here eating, they're most often talking. Ergo, it's not uncommon for low-key drama to break out, but this year, the majority of Synod days seem to be passing uneventfully.
Fortunately, speeches are reserved for daytime. After dinner, it's time to dance.
The last song of the night is always obscure music no one can quite remember the words or melody to afterward. It's a slow dance song meant for two or more partners; the ballroom grows dark and the world seems to fade away. Or rather, it just fades back into one's hotel room.
On Monday, September 21st, shortly before the Gates are due to resume ordinary function and allow attendees to leave, the Porter building suffers a power cut.
Abruptly, all the lights cut out. Music stops. Your faithful robutler freezes in place, unresponsive— though its internal systems appear to be running, the centralised command hub that it relies on has fallen silent.
Though the robutlers are out of comission, technology-minded ImPorts and their tech drones hasten to reassure that systems analyses are underway. Within a few hours, repairs begin, the estimated time being two days.
In the meantime, thanks to the diversity of powers on hand, there is enough food and water. Candles start to circulate. It might even be a little romantic, if it weren't for the chaos outside. Characters might find themselves trapped in an elevator for a few hours, or compelled to seek comfort from one another.
no subject
It's rare that those questions are ever about her — that people are actually interested in what she says about herself. It's strange that he does, despite not knowing her, despite her role in this world being so much less than she's been forced into elsewhere.
Still. It's not an easy answer to give. ]
I didn't say he doesn't remember. He doesn't know. Doesn't need to, either. [ Her head cants, gaze moving up toward the ceiling, trying to find some way to say it without saying it. ] Mmm. I don't remember the family name I was born with. Even before I got here, it'd been so long since I'd seen my parents, I could barely remember them. So, for all that time, I've only had the one name.
... I was... given the chance, to adopt the name of the person most important to me. So I did. But the person who gave it to me isn't here, and the person who shares that name doesn't know it happened in the first place.
[ She shrugs, letting her hands move, fidget and fold over her lap. ]
It would make things easier for me, if he doesn't find out.
no subject
[ Jeez, that was a curveball to throw in an ordinary first conversation. And what was with that look of surprise? He can't believe that anyone would hear her say something like that and not comment. Not only is it lacking in curiosity -- it's just rude!
Not that her explanation makes much sense either. He has a feeling she's talking about something that's all a bit bigger than the conversation that they're having. Still, Claude can relate, or he thinks he can from what he's incorrectly surmised. Family names are complicated. Not everyone is all right with you being a part of them, essentially. And when you're not wanted, you know. ]
...I'm sorry. That sounds like a tough situation. He won't hear it from me, whoever he is. You have my word.
Would he try to take it from you?
no subject
She considers the question, head tilting. What would this Jaime think of Ruka Reyes? With what he knows of that other her... and what he knows of himself? ]
Mmm... Say that it's not mine to use, I think. Or else... might feel obligated to have some connection with me, because of it. Like... finding out your father had kids in a secret marriage, or that you were separated from a twin at birth, but learning about it through... someone else.
[ It's still a bit heavy, but Ruka shrugs, waving her hand as though to thin out smoke. ]
Honestly, I'm pretty used to that kind of thing, so it's not really a big deal. It's only that I don't want it to become a big deal because of other people, you know? I have more important things to worry about.
no subject
[ It seems like a really big deal, in fact. Just one that's a fact of life for this woman, something she's learned to live with, or is learning to live with. That's the best thing you can do. Move on, and ignore anyone who'd want to rip who you are from out of your hands. They'll all be left behind in the end, anyway. ]
But I understand where you're coming from. You can do without inviting some problems into your life. [ He raises a brow. ] So! What are these other things?