f2020 | SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2020: THE SYNOD IS CONVENING.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He lets out of a soft moan as he finally starts to feel that more enjoyable sensation beyond just the stretching. It helps him relax and make the process easier to handle. As he hears Lan Wangji whisper to him, he gives a small nod.

"Now, Lan Zhan...I'm ready."

He wants to feel him inside. To know what it is like to have his body claimed by this man. To forget that tomorrow he goes back to being part of the resistance.

"Mn. You're sure? I'll try to be gentle." With a shark intake of breath, he wordlessly guides his length and pushes slowly inside of him, starting at the tip and then push forward up to the hilt. The lotion makes it for easier entry as his size stretches him slowly and he waited for his body to adjust.

At that, he grasps his hips to lift him up, and he started to move, thrusting his length to rock back and forth. He can feel his tight heat squeeze around him as he does.

He hisses softly at the initial entrance, the pain almost like that of being torn in two. He bites down on his lip as he tries to relax, knowing that he has to in order to make the passage easier. As those thrusts start he can feel his body starting to open up and that makes relaxing into them that much easier.

Slowly that pain ebbs away and starts to change into a far more enjoyable feeling. His hands grip at the sheets on either side of him for leverage as he wraps his legs around Lan Wangji's waist to encourage him deeper.

As the pleasure now curses through him with each movement into his body, moans start to spill from his lips. His whispers encouragement to the other man, begging him to go harder and to hit deeper.

"Easy...take it easy." Lan Wangji bit his lower lip, eyes furrowed in concentration. Every muscle in his body is taut as he focused on plunging his length. He was worried that he caused him pain, but then when he finally relaxes, opening up, each thrust makes it easier to reach his depths.

Slowly, each thrust becomes precise and accurate as he strikes his hidden spot. "Ah...Found it." With his legs wrapped around his hips, he lifts his hips up for a better angle, and leans forward to give him a kiss. "Yes..." He wanted to hear him moan, begging for it, and with his encouragement, he goes faster, harder, and deeper finding his rhythm for a pounding.

He cries out as that spot inside of him get struck with those harder thrusts. His back arches from the feeling and he loses himself to it. His moans louder now.

"Yess...Lan Zhan. Right there! Keep going..it feels so good."

He doesn't care who hears as he encourages the other to continue, wanting this feeling to never stop as it makes sweat break out across his forehead and sparks dance over his skin. The headboard of this weak hotel bed hits against the wall with the force of those thrusts.

He kept going, just watching him loosing to the pleasure. He was fierce with his thrusts with no self-restraint. He bit his lower lip as with a sharp gasp, reaching his climax, he felt a wave of pleasure coursing through his body as he charges forward for his release to spill his seed inside of him. There's a burst of warmth filling him as he buried deep inside of him to reach his finish.

There was a silence that followed as he pants, then collapsed on top of him as he withdraws and pulls to get rest, his face tucking on his neck to press a kiss there.

As he feels that release fill him, he warns the man that his own is coming and it follows an instant later, spilling between them with a warmth that spreads inside his body as well as over his stomach.

That high is unlike anything he has ever felt before as he collapses against the bed and pants to regain his breath. His fingers slowly release their death grip on the sheets as his entire body relaxes.

Completely relax in his high, he felt satiated, full, and warm. Though a part of him can't believe it, as to what they both had done. That they had sex, and it's one of his heart's deepest wishes for so many years, to do this with him.

In the darkness of the room, pulling the blanket over to keep warm, he's going to wrap his arms around him for a cuddle. "I waited for a long time for you. I miss you."

Wei Wuxian knows that this is not likely to happen again. He doesn't know where his path will take him and he can't risk losing sight of the goals he has put in place for himself. He turns his face away as he looks off into the darkened hotel room.

"You will have to miss me again."

His only response is to hug him together, pressing his body in the dark, and pressed his face on the back of his nape where he gently kisses him there. He won't hold him back on his path, having long accepted his choice, but he wants him to remember.

"I love Wei Ying." He finally confessed. "But does he have to go...? It's not too late to come back home with me."

"It's too late for this world but when I find out how to get us back to our own, then things can be different." But right now Wei Wuxian can't make that promise. He will return to his faction after the event is over and continue his world with the resistance until either he is dead or they have been able to get back where they belong.

He surrenders and agrees when he hears that. "Mn. I'm sorry. That I wasn't there for you." But then it was as he said, that it was too late, and there's nothing he could that will change his mind.

But at least, he has his love in this one. "You can always come back home. Remember that." He doesn't care how different this world is. Wei Ying is Wei Ying to him. He's not going to let him go, not in his heart.

He's going to let Wei Ying have some sleep. At least, their last night together is spent in peace and in comfort. "Good night, Wei Ying. Sweet dreams." And in his dreams, he'll be there waiting for him.

SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2020: THE SYNOD IS CONVENING.

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