SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2020: THE SYNOD IS CONVENING.

[modormenace]

All fourteen Gates simultaneously reverse polarity. For the next seven days, and only these seven days, any imPort stepping through a Gate will arrive safely in the Porter building: the only place on this fractured planet that can safely contain the energy of the imPort community in its entirety.

SO IT BEGINS
THE SYNOD

THE

DEATH

TRAIN

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.

CONVENTION

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

PRESENTERS

TOPIC

Joseph Kavinsky vs [N/PC]

White Tower ImPort Overpopulation and Dimensional Instability

Tony Stark and other technopaths

How Technology Will Save Us

Joshua Foley

The Mysteries and Intricacies of ImPort Physiology

Count Dooku and volunteers

ImPort Factions Must Align Against the Shared 'Resistance' Threat

Jin Bubaigawara (x3)

The Twin Cities are NOT Dimensionally Unstable No Matter What You Heard

Kang

Bridging Old and New: Maintaining Infrastructure with Limited Modern Resources

EVENING

EVENTS

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.

THE BLACKOUT

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.

Comments

Stark | White Tower

[houseparty]

( OOC: TLs coming; Due to a change of plans & to keep things streamlined for the mod-plot, Stark will be killed late on Day 3 of the Synod. I've tried to touch base with everyone this affects; please hit me up via PM or @ backagain )

Stark - closed prompts

[houseparty]

Death Train - for pillz

( entropy, as it exists in the swirling miasma of nothing-yet-everything outside the train, is old news. this journey has been made every year for close to a decade now, safely and securely, and so Stark doesn't feel the need to watch as they zip through the maw of the dome.

with the addition of surprise guests, however, Stark is on guard, but still on the job- and part of that entails approvals of his own speaking material. sequestering himself, for now, in his private compartment to work, he senses Kavinsky's presence along the usual channels: those ar glasses. he won't look up from his tablet. )

There you are, I was beginning to wonder if you'd taken the Gate instead. Azalea sent us the edits for the panel; I could use a second set of eyes.


Night 3 - for efficacy

( Three days have passed without issue, aside from one... 'debate' onboard the train. The Synod runs smoothly, a set of scheduled, bog-standard affairs even with Josh Foley's surprise appearance, easily worked to the Tower's advantage if he plays his cards right.

Even then, the thread is fraying, and the sword above his head is going to fall. Foley, Krakoa, and their rumored tempestuous Council, will be Rey's problem hereafter.

So he's in quite high spirits when he leaves the suite ahead of dinner, intending to enjoy the evening as best he can. Dressed down in comparison to the Tower's (and his) usually avante garde stylings, he's alone in the lift but for the presence of one droid over his shoulder, protection enough as they stop several floors down to take on additional passengers.

And there's suddenly Pepper in the frame of the open doors. Stark doesn't think, he just moves, stepping out of the elevator and into her space with a low, alarmed: )

What are you doing here?

[efficacy]

[ If Pepper is surprised by suddenly being face to face with Stark again, days after their previous meeting and consequent goodbyes, she only lets the emotion show on her expression for a moment before schooling her features into something more neutral. She'd hoped she'd have enough luck not to run into him, but she'd similarly acknowledged and accepted the possibility.

Her gaze flicks from the imposing droid at his shoulder back to him, his closeness forcing her attention back on him and nothing but. Pepper's heart twists painfully, still seeing and hearing her husband in him despite knowing Stark is as far away from Tony as a cat is from a dog. This is part of the reason she had wanted to stay out of his way, so her focus wouldn't waver needlessly.

Steeling herself, she draws in a breath and counters in a serene murmur, ]

Well, I was going to attend dinner, as one does at this hour.

[ She wishes now she wasn't wearing this ridiculous gown, and she hates how the thought conjures up memories of a different time; different man. ]

[houseparty]

And just, what, make smalltalk with anyone who thinks your death will make a great statement piece?

( She looks stunning, a vivid dream that nonetheless tightens a vice around his heart. None of his plans for the Synod involved the eleventh-hour appearance of Pepper Potts; he hadn't calculated for the risk, the danger of it.

The doors to the lift close in silence behind him, and the hallway is quiet, aside from the High Chancellor's exasperated sigh. )

Go back to your suite and stay there.

[efficacy]

[ Pepper gives him a flat look, followed by a long-suffering sigh. ]

Wow. Well, thank you for your fantastically patronizing advice, but I think I'll be fine. You shouldn't waste time concerning yourself with things that aren't any of your concern in the first place.

[ Pointedly, she reaches around him to stab the call button of the elevator with her finger. ]

Besides, I thought you had your own date with death to hurry to.

[houseparty]

( It's unexpected, just how much that stings even as it's true. Death just happens to be taking her sweet time. The indicator light winks out on the panel, an order belayed because he wills it. Stark insinuates himself between Pepper and the wall, not finished, not by a long shot. )

Everything about you being here is my concern, damn it. ( Should she try for the panel again, he's there to take her by the wrist- nothing tight, nothing violent, just a brief hold, his thumb sliding against the heel of her palm. )

Will you just listen?

[efficacy]

[ Pepper frowns at the panel, huffing a little at Stark's intrusion and indeed attempting to go around him for the panel once more. His touch is like being prodded with something hot and sharp, and she jolts, taking half a step back. ]

What's the point?

[ She doesn't sound angry or confrontational, just so weary. ]

You made your case the last time. You're not him. I don't know you. And you don't know me, and I'm certainly not your responsibility. So why don't you just go join your wife or whoever, do whatever you want-- just forget that we ever met in this place at all. I can take care of myself, believe it or not.

[ Despite the circumstances, it's so difficult to push those words out. ]

[houseparty]

( He lets her go immediately, regret like a spreading stain within his chest. Stark has to look off toward some middle distance, the liminal space of the empty hallway, feeling outside of time while perfectly, painfully aware of it. She sounds so tired and it spooks him. )

Pepper, I can't let him lose you the way I did.

[efficacy]

[ And just like that her earlier, less than charitable impressions on him shatter with that artless confession, her expression falling into something resembling quiet devastation. ]

He won't, [ she says, soft but firm, and closes some of the distance she'd just put between them as if in emphasis to her words. ]

I'm going to be okay. You don't have to worry.

[houseparty]

( Somehow that isn't quite what he wants to hear, even as he doesn't really know what he wants to hear. That isn't even what he wanted to say, not fully– nothing that he has done, any of it, has been spurred by her absence in his life. There is no universe where he'll lay a burden like that at her feet; he's always been responsible for his actions, for his own self, and the varied routes he's taken in this world, to arrive right here.

He doesn't want her to become like him. )

We need to talk. Not out here.

[efficacy]

[ Pepper's unsure if it's the best idea she's ever had, but she only argues with herself for a moment before offering, indicating the way with a quick gesture, ]

Well, my suite is close by. Come on.

[ She starts leading the way slowly, as if to make sure he really is coming with her. If this turns out to be a ruse to get her to go back to said suite, she won't be very amused. ]

[houseparty]

Sure.

( The thought might have occurred, but Stark readily catches up beside her, matching her pace. Most of the attendees are likely downstairs by now- he can check, if he really wants to -sitting down to dinner. Night Three's always a bit bland, Pepper isn't missing anything. )

Where did you get this? ( He means her dress, vivid blue so like and unlike another, from what shared pasts they have in common. Twelve years ago feels like a distant dream, a different life in a different world. )

[efficacy]

[ She glances over to him as they round a corner, continuing down a shorter corridor, and tries not to give rise to the twinge of awkwardness when his attention turns to her outfit. Despite her best efforts, a hint of color pinks her freckled cheeks. ]

Do you really care, or are you just filling the silence?

[ A bit of her usual wry pertness there, as she conjures up her keycard and shows it to the panel of the last door of the corridor, unlocking with a brief flash of green. ]

Come in, [ she prompts quietly, still leading the way through to the mostly darkened suite. Only the bedside lamp throws soft illumination across the space. The door closes heavily behind them, a nervous flutter quivering through her abdomen. ]

[houseparty]

Feels traditional to ask.

( Quick and mild, because he's still contemplating this overall portrait of her, the brief glimpse of bare leg, her upswept copper hair and the pale line of her throat.

He had meant it, his desire to just talk. There were things he wanted to say, and in the wave of silence following that closing door, he had a number of openers to choose from. After a protracted moment, seeing off the droid outside with a mental push, he steps in behind Pepper, hands settling briefly at her waist, and drops a gentle kiss to her nape. )

[pillz]

I'd be happy to look at it and give notes, [kavinsky says, stepping into the door, which slides shut behind him. he's dressed in white, because of course he always is. messaging. image. these things are as much his life as well as the ugly truths that live underneath them.]

But I wanted to ask you about our alliance with Krakoa.

[part of messaging, image is that you phrase things as 'our alliance with krakoa' when you actually mean 'so that time you kidnapped my friend and lover, a year ago, and didn't tell me, the liaison.']

I learned that I've been left out of a major covert operation against their leadership, and moving forward that's going to affect my diplomatic work with them. [i.e., where i put my weiner maybe? mr. stark? he sits down on the seat across from tony, nudging his ar glasses up higher on his nose, and manages to appear perfectly professional. we're all mad here.]

[houseparty]

( The High Chancellor does not look up from his tablet for a moment, too disciplined to, continuing to review the edited notes and inserting another line. Who told him doesn't matter; he'll find out regardless. )

That operation was need-to-know. I needed you, ( closing the tablet cover with a soft snap, ) to not know; to have plausible deniability.

[pillz]

[kavinsky narrows his eyes slightly. he suspects this is some kind of insinuation about him going soft, his judgment being compromised, and that's bad fuckin' news to anybody at the tower, never mind someone so close to the top.

it's too early to level that accusation, but it's not hard to see it in the way kavinsky leans back, folding his arms.]

And how about the strategic necessity of the operation at all? I have good intel on Krakoa, as their official liaison. [with anyone else, he'd phrase it as a question, sarcastic. but he affords the high chancellor more respect than that, even when he mad.]

[houseparty]

( Stark sits back in his seat, sliding his fingers against the edge of the tablet.

Quite frankly, he doesn't give a fuck if Kavinsky were sleeping with Josh Foley, with David Alleyne, with half the imPorts on the island. Some of the best intelligence was gained between the sheets; tête-à-têtes in the afterglow. )

And as their liaison, Joseph, ( soft, so dangerously soft, ) You should bring every piece of that intel to me. So why did I have to hear from a third party that they were smuggling children out of the City?

[pillz]

[ah.

kavinsky didn't know that.

he hides it well. he stays still as stone. his face doesn't move. his breathing stays on-rhythm. anyone else would have a hard time telling. but tony doesn't even need to connect to kavinsky's ar glasses with his powers to tell that something is off. the very air around kavinsky changes.]

ImPort or native children?

[the question is clipped. he's embarrassed. and he knows he should be.]

[houseparty]

( He's struck a nerve; he knows Kavinsky too well. Stark lifts his fingers from the device's edge: Stop.

This time he sits forward, placing the tablet on the seat cushion at his side, the picture of calm, easy confidence, while his voice never carries over that smooth softness. They're only a handful of feet apart; there's no need to be loud while he nips the common Krakoan excuse in the bud. )

A sixteen year old imPort, who's never had powers before, never knew a home, a life, beyond what she- or he -was torn away from, needs just as much looking after as any native-born kid. More so, because they stand a greater chance of hurting themselves or others. You know as well as I, how much the White Tower does to support these kids longterm, the resources we utilize to make sure they have a future.

Does it really matter where they're from, if they go missing?

[pillz]

No, [kavinsky says. it takes him a minute to say it, but it's not because he's begrudging tony the truth. of course it's true!

kavinsky is the white tower's kool-aid marketing expert. and you can't market the kool-aid if you don't drink it yourself.]

No, it doesn't.

[kavinsky's angry, suddenly. at josh. it's not anger he'll be able to show the mutant, at least-- certainly not so soon after his trauma. but it's anger nonetheless. of course he knows josh hides things from, lies to him-- just as he expects stark to do the same, really. but josh looks at him, talks sentimental, makes himself out to be different in so many ways.

but they all play the same game. kavinsky doesn't uncross his arms, studying tony.]

We still don't have no official stance now that the operation's over, I take it. That's my plausible deniability right there?

[houseparty]

'Josh Foley was captured and detained by a rogue agent,' ( he recites, as easy as reading off a prompter, ) 'Despite the intervention of the High Chancellor himself, Mr. Foley's fragile condition precluded immediate evacuation. We thank his fellow Krakoans for their bravery and ingenuity in assisting with his care and release, and hope for his speedy recovery.'

( Stark settles back in his seat, unruffled, and spares a glance out the shielded window, seeing nothing. His gaze slides back onto Kavinsky. ) If his council knows any better- and I expect they won't -they'll stick with the script. We have enough evidence of their actions, and enough heartfelt testimonies and tearful pleas of heartbroken foster parents to make the next few years a PR nightmare for them.

[pillz]

[kavinsky folds his arms. like an angry and imposing politician, not a sulking child, in case that wasn't clear. he looks at tony levelly through the ar glasses, his expression rigid.

he's listening, of course. he's processing. listening. filing information away in his head. checking that he can't hear anyone else coming, anywhere near them, before he says:]

Did you exclude me from the operation because you distrust my competence and judgment? [there. he said it! no take-backs. he stares at the older man hard, analytics scrolling past furiously in his periphery.] Was that a factor in your decision?

[houseparty]

( Like a fucking asshole, he turns that around: )

Should it have been, Joseph? ( Stark's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly behind his glasses. ) Could you have stopped yourself from seeing him? For the City? For me?

[pillz]

[the implication prickles him. it's not entirely unlike the feeling that drove him once to try and electrocute stark in his own bathtub, to at least make that gesture. but the opposite side of it; complementary. just as ugly.

kavinsky's face is cold.]

I would have taken him for you. Kept him. I'dve done a better job than whoever you put on the operation. I would've used what we had, and he wouldn'tve gotten away. [is it anger? hurt? offense split into both denominations? whatever it is, it paints his face with something like a sneer, daring tony to deny it.] I'm more loyal to you than you are to yourself, High Chancellor.