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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.
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All I need is a good night's sleep. I'll probably turn in early.
[ he reaches into his pocket to fish out a notepad. he's got a pencil. scribbles a room number and slaps it on the podium, his golden hand half-shielding it from anyone but kavinsky's view. the expression on his face says it all. they're not free to talk, and he's not stupid enough to spout what amounts to treason out in the open.
kavinsky can look him up if he wants to - but this is an invitation to come. ]
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but the gist of it is, that kavinsky's sad. and extremely wary. for josh, far more than of him.]
Okay. [he lifts his glass of wine.] Recommend the malbec. You don't heed a nuanced palate to appreciate it, and it's not from the Tower. Promise.
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This whole thing is a gamble. An attempt to grease the wheels and secure alliances before the shitstorm that is sure to come. Tony Stark's death can't bode well for anyone who isn't in the White Towers good graces. He doesn't want to be blamed. He had no shortage of enemies who would gladly claim credit, but... Scapegoats are a tried and true means of justifying invasion and brutality. ]
The malbec, huh? I'll give it a go. [ he glances over his shoulder to the members of his guard waiting in the wings. ] I don't mind all the tower wines, s'long as they're a little sweet.
[ he shoulders the bag. ]
What is it. Like, eight-y-ish?
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[kavinsky smiles at the other young man automatically. from afar, it's a smile that would put white tower residents at ease; the polished politician smile. all is well.
but josh can feel something off in the chemistries of kavinsky's mind, though he can't tell exactly what it is, of course.
if you really love him, you won't go.
of course, it's a thought kavinsky's had before. not exactly in those words, or about the circumstances of the synod. it's floated over every rumpled hotel bed, every stolen kiss, every little scrap of notepaper crushed up in josh's hand. but it always feels like a problem for later, what to do about their trysts. and even now, faced with josh's injuries and his troubled eyes, and the thought louder and clearer than ever, kavinsky finds it in himself to push it away.]
See you then. [he turns, glass of wine in hand.]
nsfw shirt
But he's never been more aware of how the years have changed them both. He returns the smile, managing to pull something a little more convincing together, and finishes up the day.
The room has been as cleared of any surveillance as it can be. The rest of the Council aren't far, of course. All he has to do is shout and someone will kick down the door to come running. There's a GPS chip in the ring around his finger, another definitely injected somewhere in his person. Its invasive. Sort of ensures he'll never really have privacy again.
But he's had enough privacy.
In the room Josh looks more like himself. His hair is still damp from the shower, the suit abandoned in favor of his shirt for this year... Though the size he'd given last year is now too large for him. It makes for good sleepwear, at least, and he does intend to sleep early tonight. His back is pressed against the headboard, one leg pressed up against his chest, the other stretched out flat.
josh himself is drinking straight from the bottle of malbec kavinsky so kindly recommended. killing time. trying to chase down his thoughts with a temporary distraction. This isn't enough to get him drunk - it is enough to get him pleasantly buzzed.
when kavinsky finally enters the room he doesn't say a word, he just offers it out. A ring of ugly bruises peeks out from the overlong sleeve, the skin rubbed raw from shackles and again from tightly cuffed sleeves. J
fyi stark's now dying on day 3, so... VAGUEHANDS :)
[you shouldn't have come.]
I got this one recently. [he shifts his hand back, moves it through his own hair, turning his head. he doesn't really have to show josh, of course; elixir can feel it. it's not too bad, just the scabbing remains of a cut, a crescent-shaped surface injury left from where kaneki's out-of-control shape smashed him into the concrete. the tower has its own healers.]
I'm sure you heard about it. Kaneki seems like he's become a Hell of a little bitch, as of a couple days ago.
time is a construct
Bits and pieces of it. Like he got 'Ported out and replaced, but like, without the porting.
[ he also said he killed you. he doesn't say that he's hiding out on krakoa, or that he was the hero of the day. josh supposes that's probably obvious... he doesn't remember much of the rescue or the immediate aftermath. just kaneki sobbing and confessing to murder.
he brings the bottle back to his lips and takes a long swig. then slots the cork back in and sits up straighter.
there's a small stretch of silence as he musters the courage to ask the question he needs to ask. his senses keenly attuned to kavinsky's body. the rate of his heartbeat, the tension in his system. his pale blue eyes search his face.
there's nothing accusatory there. not yet. but there's something different in how he looks. how he holds himself. guarded, nervous, the look in his eyes said something didn't quite make it out of that dark room. a piece of him was forgotten, or had withered and died while the rest of him struggled to survive. ]
Did you know what they were going to do? [ his brow furrows. ] When they took me. Did you know that was coming? And, I know. I know. [ hastily added, heading off the complaints he can see coming. he already knows what he believes, and that his beliefs may hing on misguided trust. that kavinsky looked for him, that for all their ups and downs he'd (probably) never do him dirty like that ] I just - I need to hear you say it.
lmk if this is ok
No. Stark didn't trust me with that operation. [for obvious fucking reasons! josh! kavinsky doesn't actually say, but it's in his face as he turns, sits down on the bed, a foot away.] Tower-Krakoa relations have two parts. Public-facing, [he gestures at himself.] And what goes on behind closed doors.
[there's an edge of accusation to that, too. irritation coasting close to the surface of kavinsky's expression.
he's gone years without talking about things with josh, not really talking. but how can he avoid it, with the bruises still livid on josh's wrists? the mark healing on his skull-- soothed a little better now. stark dead, then imprisoned?]
I could ask if it's true, but I don't need to. Do I? [he passes his fingers through his hair, feels more of the scab come off, harmlessly. he's walking a fine line and doing a bad job of it, his feet too wide, his balance off.] That there was an actual political fucking agenda why the Tower took you.
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The Council has been trying to get children out of the more dangerous factions to help them. [ the council. not we. there was no we in that decision. ] Stark caught wind of it. He read it as re kidnapping them to build a child army, not like, taking on refugees. He thought we were going to rise up.
[ his fault, probably. for having been a particular brand of child soldier. both here and there. ]
You know [ he says, because its true. the council knew, and though they told him to stop working, they only made more work for him. wearing him further out. kavinsky had been there, seeing every deepening crack and trying to do something about it. ] better than anyone how that's bullshit.
lmk if this is not ok!
[he's angry. at what? the situation? at this version of the situation. the world and its bleak, cynical horrors, he can deal with. but that josh insists on carrying his little torches-- it drives him insane. he rakes his finger through his hair, then grunts when he accidentally nicks the residual bruise.
but it's nearly gone now, really. thanks to josh.]
Did you have a viable, long-term plan? You take ImPort kids in, in secret. ImPort kids grow up into ImPort adults. Your population grows. Gate acts up. More ImPort kids need help, you take 'em in in secret. Your population keeps growing. Gate keeps acting up, bigger glitches. Cryptids and shit. I don't know what your plan is--
[because that's how they are. the two of them. kavinsky doesn't want to know so he won't have anything to tell. he stares at josh so hard his eyes hurt.] Do you have one? For ten years? Twenty? A vision where your swelling population of secret ImPort refugees stay in Krakoa and your city doesn't wipe itself off the face of the fucking planet?
cw implied body horror
[ its old anger made new. three years worth of fights with other people spilling over, their hopeless idealism had burned him. ]
My plan was we'd keep it small, right? Protect who we had, stay friendly with everybody else, not do anything bone-headed to get wiped off the fucking map. But the second we got something good, savior complexes kicked in and it became all about how we were selfish not to share it. Even David got in on it. I was outvoted and scolded for being 'selfish'.
[ thus the eventual dissolution of their relationship. david can't even really admit he was wrong now. he swallows tight. the air around him is getting dark, little sparks of blacklight rising off of his skin and winking out of existence. he stops and takes a breath. ]
The extra ImPorts made it harder to run the city, the amplifier couldn't keep up, and I paid the price while they kept feeding their fucking egos. They only agreed now because I turned up depowered and rotting, but they're still so fucking deluded they think they can win a fight if it comes without playing dirty.
[ his fingers tangle in his hair. ]
I made the wrong call. In all of them. In leaving. I know that.
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he hesitates, then he grasps josh's hand, instead of messing with his own hair some more. he hesitates to speak; what he's about to say borders on treason. under ordinary circumstances, he'd even 'know better.']
I'm not saying you and the rest of the Council have to compromise every single thing you want and believe in. I'm saying you compromised the wrong ones.
It's not 'play dirty, or don't.' It's 'play smart, or don't.' Hell, maybe there were legal, diplomatic, institutional ways to get the kids. Maybe you could've worked a long-term expansion plan, a timeline for a second Gate and sibling cities in-- with the High Chancellor. [he gestures.] Weaponize celebrity culture and rhetoric. Make your Council understand. Get the right people into your Council, if you need to.
You gotta stop thinking in terms of, 'but other people did so much shit.' Start thinking in terms of, 'What am I going to do with the people I have, now?' [kavinsky looks at him, squeezes his hand. then looks away.] You're fuckin' smart enough to do this, Josh. And you're strong enough.
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[ a year without any kind of pleasant physical touch makes everything - everything from a handhold to simply resting against someone - feel that much more intense. his fingers curl around kavinsky's, giving a delicate squeeze. ]
I'm trying. That's why we're here. [ he's not going to cry. he's not. that would be pathetic. he didn't claw his way back from death just to break down like a broken car when faced with the reality of living. ] But I don't think the High Chancellor's going to listen to a damn thing I say.
[ he wonders, too, if he would have a different view of tony stark if he didn't grow up with iron man flying through the skies back home. if he hadn't heard of how the avengers raised arms against utopia, threatening to rip the mutant messiah away from her home because they didn't like how dangerous she could be. ]
He came to see me. In there. Just to rub it in my face.
fyi to anyone watching we retconned meta/timelines... tony's not dead yet here!
it's his better nature, however, to tell himself that josh probably isn't doing it intentionally.]
Take care of yourself. Stay away from him. You have four other Councilmembers to make the play. You guys make a solid team, [despite kavinsky's various criticisms-- he does believe that.] Fact is, neither he nor Rey have exposed Krakoa's child 'smuggling' project to the other factions yet, or you'd know about it. And the longer that goes on, the more negotiating power you have.
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kavinsky trusts stark. probably more than he's ever trusted anyone. they're not going to have this fight and come out friends. he can't point to the history in a different world about mutants and avengers as evidence, both because tony isn't from the same instance and kavinsky has never seen it. ]
I'll pull us together. Get a strategy meeting going. [ maybe try to talk to rey himself. he's already got allison primed to talk about the psychological effects of living in the warring factions. he can do this if he puts his mind to it. ] Thanks.
[ for listening. for talking him through it. for looking. ]
Guess Ibiza's gonna be off the table for a while longer.
let me know as usual if this is too infomoddy, FOR REAL, i never mind!
maybe it has to happen now. some version, anyway. too many tensions have hovered over their candlelight dinners-- well. tensions have kept them from having candlelight dinners. hovered over their beds, their kisses, their meetings.]
They'll never let you go now, [he says.] Not alone. [and they shouldn't. after all, he's far more important to krakoa than kavinsky is to the tower, at least on paper.]
You should just say it. Whatever you're thinking about. I know you're holding back.
[that, he doesn't know. he thinks there's -- something; probably about tony, maybe about krakoa. back in the day. about laurie or david, or those other soft and longing things that tend to float behind josh's eyes, soft, sad ghosts.]
cw torture, kidnapping, hostage situation, extortion, suicidal iedation
I lost a year of my life to a psychopath who let birds eat at my open wounds. Just - kept me in a constant state of wanting to die, not even to rePort, but to make it stop. [ and more, so much more. he'll never be the same. that much is plainly obvious. especially in the way something cold drops behind his eyes. ] That doesn't speak to someone who is going to let Krakoa go on its merry way. Stark's lost it, K.
What if he orders you to take me out?
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[kavinsky's voice is dark and complex as the sea. he shifts his weight away from josh, but not to get away-- to get a better look at him, from a slightly further distance. there's a tangle of emotion in him, fritzing through josh's biokinesis.
they don't talk too much, about his relationship with stark. but he imagines josh has guessed, read between the lines, just as he put so much of the situation together about josh, david. laurie. without josh ever having rubbed it in his face, certainly.]
You don't really think that's the real question.
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[ josh meets his gaze. tired, but resolute. he's never made kavinsky choose, just as kavinsky has never made him choose. there's always been an understanding that they had their lives and loves within their respective factions and each other. ]
If it comes down to it. If he asks you.
[ no would be treason against the tower. saying yes would be treason of a different sort. ]
Is it going to be him or me?
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The real question is, if and when he orders me to kill or torture your friends and I come to do it, what are you going to do?
[he's watching the biokinetic closely now. the reality is, kavinsky knows tony is too soft on him, especially over the past few years, josh's abduction mark of that-- and a mistake, probably. a function of deeper existential fatigue, intrinsically linked to his nightmares about trying and failing to protect his people. possibly a weakness; one his rivals already know, but not important enough to exploit, or not without complicating kavinsky's own complex web of safetynets.
it's not love, like what he suspects tony had at home. it's not marriage, which tony has with rey. frankly, if it were, tony would probably be harsher toward him. feelings and relationships with big words, they break under the weight of a place like this.
maybe tony's too soft in general these days. despite the torture. kavinsky can smell it, and he knows he's not the only one.]
You don't have to tell me. You just have to know.
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I won't kill you. [ he says, and for a moment that is all he can manage. it sounds like a promise, some assertion that this can be worked out. he can save him from himself. but when he looks back, those pale eyes are miserable and resolute. ] But you'll wish I had.
[ he's overprotective. it isn't as though the others can't take care of themselves. laurie and her pheromones, its david and his technology. the umbrella academy kids and their training. none of them have this compassion, this adoration for this monster with his charming smile.
and none of them will be nearly so angry he finally comes for them. there is a rage inside of him waiting to be let out, and he thinks when the day finally comes, that will be the day he'll never be able to call it back.
the misery doubles. ]
... So don't make me.
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[kavinsky sounds sorry when he says it. and he is. for both of them, for the crumbled dregs of their relationship. for all the pain he sees in josh's eyes.]
But maybe that's how they lose, too.
[treason. he won't say more. josh just came out of being tortured, and kavinsky knows he doesn't have to rub it in; he 'won' the argument by losing. them or me? and josh chooses them; the krakoans, his mutants, his oldest friends, his newest ones. his people.] Just get your Council to stop using strategies that recycle historical Earth drama and come up with something new. This world doesn't play by those rules-- or it doesn't have to. Krakoa will be better for it.
[he reaches over again. this time, slides his fingers through josh's hair, tugs his head over to plant a kiss on his temple. what will be will be.]
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His arms slide around him. Quietly mulling over his thoughts. What Kavinsky's saying - what he's not saying. ]
There's always a place for you with us. [ is what he settles on. ] That offer doesn't expire.
[ until you hurt someone he loves with more than sharp words. that's always been the unspoken rule, the condition to his affection. there are so many sins he can forgive until they're directed at the people he loves. ]
... when that day comes. Just remember that I want you with us by choice.
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he's always careful not to give josh hope.
he could say: maybe, when your council gets its shit together, long-term. maybe, when their righteous indignation doesn't require overruling you then getting you imprisoned. he could say: i'll think about it, when i get tony to finish teaching me everything about the gates. but all that hope could well be false. he isn't tony; he isn't as smart as tony. and the possibility that he's smart enough to get the power he sees vested in these solutions anyway is so slim that it's unfair to voice it.
and besides: he doesn't trust the council of five. he trusts them only to do what they're going to do, and to look indignant about it the whole fucking time.]
When that day comes, I want you to be okay. Even if I'm not there.
[it's one of kavinsky's idiosyncrasies. he can see good endings for the people he treasures, and he's very rarely in them himself. josh isn't the only import who's asked him to run away; he always says no. he squeezes josh's hand and then, a little hesitantly, leans over to kiss him. properly, this time.]
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this should be where it ends. this should be where he gives up. he should pull back, our lines have been drawn and they know where they can't cross.
instead he kisses back.
once upon a time he'd fallen in love with a girl he couldn't have, one older and cooler and more worldly than him. it had been bad for them both. he'd pursued her with the same dedication, keeping it up until she'd finally pulled the plug and shoved him towards a better choice. ]
I'll be okay. You better be okay too.
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