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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.
jaime reyes | ota | krakoa ➞ secret defector
[ That Jaime went to see some friends at the White Tower - or, well, say that he did - just before the Synod means that he's stuck in the unhappy position of taking the Death Train over. He's been on it before, of course. Most people have. But he doesn't particularly enjoy it, and if he could get away with simply flying over, he would. It just seems to risky to do so, too easy to get caught.
So here is now, sitting at a window seat, resting his chin on the heel of his hand, the lunch that has been passed out to everyone gone uneaten in front of him. ]
Geez, [ he mutters. ] It never changes.
[ It's sad. ]
b. robobutler.
[ Some may be annoyed with their robobutler, but Jaime seems enthralled! It's not the technology, nor is it the fact that it's a robot (even if Jaime's always liked robots), but he's always gotten along well with people and things a little less than human. Or a little more. Like him. ]
Yes, [ he can be heard telling one, the hint of a laugh on his breath. ] I won't leave. Don't worry. I'm just trying to improve your vocab. And your dexterity. Here, let's try again. Catch!
[ The robobutler, miraculously, manages to catch the stressball. Jaime claps for him, ignoring the indignant feeling emanating from Khaji. ] You did it! Yayyy!
Y A A A A Y.
c. party.
[ It is in Jaime's best interest to act normally, but if he's going to meet up with anyone he's been providing funds and support to in those who have drifted away from White Tower - giving it primarily either to those who wish to defect themselves, to assist in factions and programs that are maintaining peace and neutrality, and otherwise trying to undermine imPort supremacy without touching Krakoa - it's here. He just hopes he can keep his cool in front of... everyone. Ugh. He'd better not get caught.
In not getting caught, he can be found just about anywhere. He'll dance when asked, help himself to food at the feasts, and listen carefully at all of the panels, a studiously neutral expression on his face. But he's more willing to talk to those around him than many here, and is quick with a tight-lipped smile, even if they're supposed to be enemies. Jaime's not in the business of making enemies, after all. ]
d. roomies.
[ Sharing a room is the last thing Jaime wants to do, especially with a stranger. But it's what they've been given, and it's not as though they can find lodgings elsewhere, so this is just the way it has to be. Jaime wheels his luggage in and flops on his bed, procrastinating on finally unpacking all of his stuff. ]
You know, for such a fancy event, you'd think they'd be able to afford to give everyone their own rooms. Depending on the combos, this is a baaaaaad idea.
e. wildcard.
[ CYOA! Or plot w me on plurk @
D - New roommate!
Once he's inside, he shuts the door behind him and pulls down his hood, revealing a face that's much less intimidating than one might expect. He doesn't really know Jaime, and he takes that as a good sign. Sure, he thinks he might have seen that face a few times before everyone went their separate ways to avoid destabilizing this world, but that was so long ago who can really remember? And it's not relevant for his concerns, anyway. Granted, Jaime could be with the White Tower without him knowing, and revealing his identity might have been a horrible mistake, but since there's no way he's going to be able to hide his face from his own roommate, he figures he might as well get the big reveal over with. If it ends in disaster...well, it's not really avoidable, now is it?
"You don't even know how many people here want me dead. I don't remember ever pissing you off, though, so I'm hoping that means everything's okay here?"
Sure, he'd just come back if they decided to kill him, but that just means they'd get to do it again.
"I'm Jonathan, I'm with the Northwestern Imperium."
no subject
"Oh!" He says, shooting up to kneel where he had previously been seated on his feet on the bed, looking Jonathan over. He hasn't been able to talk to anyone in person with any modicum of honesty. To have the luck to be rooming with one --
He didn't realize how much he missed being honest with people until the opportunity dropped into his lap. There could still be problems, sure, and Jonathan could give him up, but no rebellion can function with nobody trusting each other.
"It's you! I know you!" He scrambles off the bed so he can stand up, feeling oddly small in his stockinged feed, looking for the world like an ordinary - and slightly sheltered - young man. "Hi. We've talked before. I'm, um." He points to himself. "I'm Blue. D'you remember me?"
no subject
He won't give fine details on the 'thing' just to play things safe. Not that he thinks there's anyone listening in right now, but why reiterate something they already both know?
"How are you, man?"
no subject
Now that Jaime feels - mainly - safe, he sits back down on the bed, heels hitting idly against it. This is definitely better than being roomed with someone from White Tower, or any other faction who would have reason to distrust him in return.
"I'm, um... well, this place blows, but it's nice to meet you. And nice to be rooming with someone who probably doesn't wanna kill me? That's also a big plus. How 'bout you?"
b
[His robutler is trailing behind by several paces. Judd doesn't dislike the thing, like many do, but he also has no idea what to do with them, either.]
I have yet to adjust to them.
no subject
It's not their fault they're a little annoying to people. They were just wired that way. [ He looks between Judd and his robutler. ] Did you need some help with yours? I can convince him to give you some privacy, if you need it. [ He waves at the robutler. ] Hiiiiii, buddy.
[ God, they're cute. He wants them all. ]
no subject
It doesn't annoy me. [He glances behind him.] I am just not used to my organizer trailing behind me. Or speaking.
[The robutler's emoticon eyes light up.] Hello!
no subject
[ He gives the robutler an affectionate pat on his head, then looks back up at Judd. ]
Honestly, these guys are programmed to be helpful. They want to make you happy. Just be patient and kind with them, and they'll be happy as can be. Not so different from a lot of humans.
no subject
[Judd watches the exchanged stone-faced but curious. Typically, he sees that sort of reaction elicited to domesticated animals, not electronics. With a glance between them, he supposes they would both serve a similar function within a family structure, depending on the family.]
It's bold of you to assume that I have any sort of social skills with humans, either. I usually get criticized for my general "coldness."