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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
"Not unless you can remember Heropa, or the Aegis organization..."
no subject
"No one else could have known those things...they're—"
He halts his train of thinking and looks at Allura suspiciously.
"The only way you could know those things is if I told you. And I told you those things then..."
He squares up.
"If what you say is true, you know who I am. Who I really am. So...? What am I?"
no subject
But it's also not definitive proof. Already, her mind is spinning other possibilities — it could be a simple matter of him being a part of that world for less time, having less opportunity for those memories to be so deeply etched that even the mention of a name could bring them back to the surface.
"You're... Diomuhr. A fragment of his soul, the reincarnation of a demon lord. And the other piece belongs to your twin brother, Dromas."
"... for a long time, you worried that you were destined to bring about the end of your world, and did not want any friendships, any close relationships at all in fear of the inevitable loss and heartbreak..."
"But when I became acquainted with you, I quickly found you to be... someone worth being close to, regardless of the risks."
no subject
It was a tic. He always did it when he felt unsure. Uncomfortable.
Vulnerable.
"Alright. I get it. You know me..."
A beat.
"And I...don't know the first thing about you. But I can't help but feel that...you think that what I am right now is...wrong. Somehow I know that look..."
no subject
Does he remember her?
"We were close. ... we worked together in close capacity. We were both part of a group called Aegis, and you were promoted to one of its leaders..."
"You were a hero. A real hero."
"For all your lamenting of being a destroyer by nature, I don't think you would condone any of this. Not unless..."
"... someone was making your decisions for you."
no subject
"No one makes decisions for me. I make my own decisions!"
There it was again; that fire. Except this time, no one was there to let it out, to push the cork back into the opening...
He felt it. That defiance. He felt it flare up and suddenly he was anxious. And it showed.
"I don't..." He trails off, finding the ground he always stood on slowly eroding away.
no subject
She rushes over to him. If the space of the room is distorting, that's fine — she'll find her footing where she can, and leap across the gaps with the agility of an acrobat.
But if he remembers her? Then perhaps her touch will be enough to calm him back down.
no subject
It's purely a reaction, but the moment she tries to touch him, he grips her shoulder and tosses her back from whence she came, like he was swatting back a fly.
"Don't touch me...Don't touch me...!"
He rebuffs her through gritted teeth as everything he thought he knew suddenly starts to fall apart. As if he was looking at the world through lenses obscured by gossamer; the light streaming in from hitherto unseen patches. Events stopped matching up. Reactions stopped being his own. Everything was becoming disjointed and wrong.
Something was wrong. He was wrong...all wrong.
And this person who knew him so well...he didn't know her. She was a stranger.
"I don't know you...I don't know who you are but you're saying I should. That I should be a lot of things. That I'm something different now...! And everything I believed to be good and true is..."
"It's all wrong. AND I STILL DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"
no subject
She has to believe that this is the same Darin, that the memories are attempting to break out, back into his consciousness. That his love for her couldn't truly be wiped, not when the heart has a memory all its own.
"You know me, Darin! It's Allura! Princess Allura! We swore a promise to each other, that we would build our future together! As partners, and equals!"
"You said that I was the one who brought light into your life, and the heat of a flame to your heart! You wanted to be a hero for more as much as for yourself!"
"You were my champion! You loved me — and I love you, even now!"
no subject
No longer able to parse what he knows and what's been taken from him, Darin loses what little foothold he has. The room stops surging, his power cutting out as he pores himself into trying to grasp this new information.
There are echoes; fleeting moments beyond the vestiges of his accessible memory that would occasionally catch his awareness. Like seeing shadows in the shape of a person when really it's just a trick of the light. Her words stirred something. His light, his flame, it all stirred something deep inside of him. Deeper than his heart, it resonated to his very core.
It felt like the glass that contained his spark was beginning to crack.
He stares at her, eyes wide, a mixture of confusion, of dulled realization, seasoned by a cold sweat.
"We...? Together...?"
For the first time, it didn't sound...wrong. And the cognitive dissonance is enough to drop him to his knees.
no subject
"Do you want me to prove it? Because I will, if it won't send this room into contortions again..."
no subject
He merely nods.
He wants to see this irrefutable proof. He needs it.
no subject
But she decides against it. First, she doesn't trust him to recognize it quickly, and stranding him in confusion might be crueler than any other choice. Second, she doesn't want to just prove that he loved her — but that she loved him.
And really, there's only one proper way to do that. The definitive act of true love, the breaker of curses in fairytales that may very well save his memories from whatever brainwashing Luke performed on him —
She grabs him, and she kisses him. It's long and drawn out, but nonetheless fierce, pushing against his lips as if with the weight of her whole body. And she waits, praying in silent breaths, for the feeling of him relaxing in the familiarity of the gesture.
no subject
He sees flashes of entire other lives. Of what he could have been, of what he was meant to be.
And who he was supposed to be.
It was like staring into a prism, each facet a different life, a different possibility. In this moment, he wasn't sure what world he belonged to but one thing was certain...
Whatever he was doing here? It wasn't his will. It wasn't what he wanted to be. it wasn't what he believed in.
He slouches and brings a hand to his face.
"I...Something...Something happened to me when I came here. When I arrived here years ago. I think...I think Maste—...Luke. He did something to me..."
The mention of being here for years implies that, no, this isn't her Darin. This is another universe, another path he could have taken. But her kiss...it stirred something. Her Darin might be in there, somewhere. Where she arrived here without a version of herself to inhabit, he likely couldn't exist as a universe displaced version of himself. And it looks like he's at odds with himself but...
At least that part's familiar for him.
"Allura, I...I'm sorry...I'm not...I'm having trouble...oh gods..."
no subject
Does she really know that it's a different Darin, for certain? One timeline didn't necessarily progress at the same rate as another. But what gets her is that — somehow, from the tone, she can't help but think it's the same number of years since her own Darin was ported in. A true dark parallel.
On the other hand, it's working. Should she really question the details?
"... I believe so, as well. I can't help but think that he's performed a brainwashing of sorts upon you. I simply can't believe that he would sway you so easily, otherwise..."
Casually, she reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from his face.
"And that's not meant to be a comment on how stubborn you are, sometimes."
no subject
He echoes her thought as he comes to a realization. How many times had Master Skywalker approached him and told him that he'd want to meet privately with dissenters and rebels? How many times had that happened and the opposing party came out of those meetings staunchly agreeing with Master Skywalker?
Did that happen to him?
Suddenly, a lot of things began making sense.
"A-Allura...that's what he's doing. He's using his Force powers...he's taking away people free will...!"
no subject
She doesn't sound surprised. If anything, she sounds resigned to the reality of the situation. After all, the Force wasn't too different from her own abilities as an Altean. And what had her own self done, in the timeline where she had ruled an empire?
Why do I have to be reminded of that, of all things...?
"But... there's certainly a hope. Given that your memory came back, it might be possible to restore the memories of others. And..."
She pauses, looking at him. How much does he remember about her?
"I think I might be able to do it. Perhaps only one person at a time, but... it would be something."
no subject
There's something grim and dark in his voice when he tells her to essentially stand down.
"He's going to pay for what he did to me. For what he made me do. For all of the lives I ruined in his name, all the blood on my hands for his sake."
He pushes himself to his feet.
"When I find him, I'll show him exactly what an unstoppable Force looks like."
no subject
She scrambles to her feet as well, hurrying as if he might leave to go beat up Luke right this second if she doesn't stop him.
"... I won't try to stop you, Darin. I know how much the betrayal must hurt." For her, there was Zarkon, after all. "But... please, don't assume your strength and anger alone will be enough to stop him!"
"You've already seen firsthand what he can do. And you've worked for him for years — you cannot assume that he didn't keep some sort of contingency plan in case you regained your memories."
"We need strategy."
no subject
He grits his teeth to keep himself from pushing her down and storming by.
"You do what you want. I'm not going to pretend to know what you can do or what you want to plan, but if I take Luke down, this won't ever happen again. So...whatever your plan is? Save it for others."
no subject
But she starts to turn, to step aside. She won't hold him back from this. If the roles were reversed, would she forgive him for trying to smother her anger?
On the other hand...
"You're honest. Perhaps too honest, sometimes. And even if you were a skilled liar, your rage is burning bright and hot. Do you think it's possible to temper it to the point that he won't notice it?"
no subject
He huffs in frustration.
"Look...Allura...I'm not...I'm not your Darin. I can feel some of his memories and some of his...I don't know. His residual experiences? But I'm not him. So, forgive me if all of this is...it's new to me. Jarring."
But he steels his gaze.
"But I want him to notice it. I want him to feel it, like the rage of a furnace on his face. I want him to know what's coming and know there's nothing he can do to stop it."
no subject
But that was a poor assumption, wasn't it? He had lived at arm's length from people around him. How could he be familiar with this? Hadn't it taken a long time for him to wrap his head around these things, in the beginning.
"Even if you're not my Darin, I know you well enough to know that you can do great things in this world. So... I don't want you to simply defeat him. I want to know that you'll live to see the day after, too."
no subject
But there was more. He felt it. They were not his feelings, but the feelings of another version of him, transposed from across time and space. So, he turns slowly and approaches her. And when he reaches her he places his hands, shakily, upon her shoulders.
"...You've given me a great gift, Allura. An even though I'm not your Darin, I can feel him inside. Tethered. Unsure. You broke Luke's hold over me and now, thanks to you, I can do what's right..."
He leans in and gives her a gentle kiss on the forehead. The most he can muster.
"I have to do what I have to do. But your Darin's still out there...and I'm sure he needs you..."