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

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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Please make sure you have the OOC consent of anybody joining you on your panel before replying to this comment with the following form:

Political matters are not a high priority for the Greywaren, an astral being whose purview is metaphysical in nature. Since the founding of the Sanctum Aurorae, attending the Synod has been the Supreme Leader's exclusive responsibility. (Which has led to speculation from outsiders that the Greywaren is a fictitious legend and not a living individual, or that, if he exists, he holds no authority even within his own faction.)

The Greywaren is not in attendance. However, a masked valet by the name of Ronan Lynch — younger brother to the High Priest Declan Lynch, apparently — has been a favorite servant of the Supreme Leader since the earliest days of the cult. He accompanies Kylo Ren to the Synod every year as his esquire of the body, a role performed with just as much unsettling pomp and ceremony as anything else conducted by the mesmerized disciples of the Sanctum Aurorae.

Unless otherwise dismissed, Ronan remains at Kylo's side as a silent, looming bodyguard. At every meal, he kneels at Kylo's feet, guarding his food and drink from poison and clearing it all away when he's finished. When Kylo is meeting privately with other imPorts, Ronan keeps watch at the door, and when he retires to bed, Ronan goes with him.

While on duty, Ronan does not engage in conversation — even if he's directly addressed — unless given explicit permission by Kylo to respond. But there are moments when someone can catch him alone. Whenever Kylo is entertaining a guest and doesn't want to be disturbed, Ronan stands just outside his suite, where he's free to speak. And during the evening events (where he's dressed in slightly more formal attire), it's easier to get a few words out of him... though he'll probably refuse an invitation to dance.

The inner circle of rare individuals who are aware of Ronan's true identity may pull him aside at any time, but it's best to visit him inside his suite later or invite him to visit yours.

Welcome

Wei Wuxian took the train to get to the convention but he has no real interest in actually attending. He is only there because he has to be. In a way it does offer him some opportunity to investigate the area and the people attending and see if he can't gain information on the White Tower and those in charge.

He ignores the robot for the most part, accepts the bag and goes straight to his suite. He deposits the bag and his suitcase of clothing on the bed.

A knock comes at his door and he goes to answer. Pulling it open, he stares at the other person with a steady expression. "Looks like you found me."

Party
Wei Wuxian used to enjoy parties before he came to this place. Now it just seems like a cover for a far more sinister event going on beneath the surface. But now he has a drink in hand, his stomach is full from the food that he didn't have to cook and all he plans to do now is watch others dance and drink himself to sleep.

He knows that it is inevitable that he encounter people he used to consider friends and family while in this place. So the alcohol will help him get through what will inevitably be some hard conversations.

Death Train

It's called a death train..so of course Xue Yang was going to ride it and see if it could live up to it's name. For the most part he is rather disappointed in what he thought might have some sort of sinister side effects for using it. But none came. It seemed to simply be a regular train. And so he settled into one of the cars and accepted a couple of the pastries and a drink. He munches on the pastry while staring out into the weird landscape that is outside.

Convention
Xue Yang has no interest in the convention itself. He is only hear because he is forced to be. And so for the most part he has ignored everything about it. He leans against a wall with his arms crossed as he watches people walking past on their way to various events and discussions.

He yawns as he stands there, wishing this week would just be over so he could go back to far more interesting things.

Party
Xue Yang is never going to turn down food as he enjoys the fast array of food presented to him. And as he munches he savors some of the alcohol that they keep bringing him. Between his time on the train and the meals in this place he has had more alcohol then he has in a lot of months combined back on his world.

He doesn't care about dancing so he is simply going to stay near the food and drinks while everyone else enjoys the music.

"The rest of this event might be boring but at least they are feeding us."

ARRIVAL

[ It appears that rumors of Joshua Foley's disappearance have been greatly exaggerated, as the young leader of the faction is most certainly there and looking well. Better, in fact, than he has in the past. His appearance is a radical departure from previous years - gone are the soft colored suits, replaced with something bolder. His previously shaggy silver hair is several shades paler, and cut down to something sharper and more stylish.

Anyone with energy sensing capabilities will realize he's not quite up to full power. Telepaths can pick up on some lingering emotional distress, his whole mental state seems much more volatile than usual. Though there's no inclination towards violence - yet. Just generalized anxiety mixed with something cold and vengeful.

But, as he does every year, he's offering free healing sessions as part of his contribution to the Synod. All it requires is a touch. Josh smiles brightly, greeting old friends with warmth and enthusiasm and giving new arrivals a gentle smile and an offer to help however they can. ]

PANELS.

[ His annual panel on ImPort health goes off without a hitch. Josh talks about import life, the nanites, the similarities between all of them despite how wildly they differ. There's a heavy focus on unity, the reminder that all of them are ImPorts.

I'm biokinetic, Josh says to the audience at the end, once he's finished discussing his theories and findings... which really aren't much. Any who attended last year might remember a lot of these points. What I do goes beyond healing. I can sense things on cellular level and even I can't understand aspects of us. There is so much we don't know yet about ourselves and I would like to collaborate with you all in the coming year to uncover it.

He's around for questions. ]

GALA.

[ The Council of Five is out in full force. All of them dressed in formalwear with gold threaded through it. Josh himself wears only black. The Krakoan faction has always been known for their willingness to branch out and interact, despite their isolationist nature, but it doesn't appear to be the case this year. Josh, who often leads the charge, drinks his expensive wine and watches the dance floor with a blank expression.

It's odd, of course, as usually the young leader is eager to dance, drink, and party the night away. The best friendships are made at the bottom of a beer, he used to say.

But approach him for a dance and he'll smile and say he'd love to. Have a drink with him and he seems perfectly like himself. He's just not initiating this year.

He's never really alone, either. Someone else from Krakoa is always nearby. 'Elixir' has always been known to be able to take care of himself. The whole thing is odd... Perhaps he ran away and they're trying to ensure it doesn't happen again? Who can really say. ]

WILDCARD.

[ come at him bro. josh can be caught looking very stressed when he thinks no one is paying attention, anyone with the capacity to sense injuries will note that he does appear to be injured or at least has the remnants of injuries, but is otherwise trying to put on his best front. he's down for drinking, smoking, and healing. ]

Edited 2020-09-15 12:35 (UTC)

[ For threads & plotting, feel free to reach out at

wanderlustlover ]

ARRIVAL

Allison arrives with the rest of the Krakoan contingent. For all that her appearance looks much as it did the year before this one and the one before that, there's a certain sort of alertness that seems to be going into the way she looks over every room she comes into. Like she's looking for someone very specific, rather than taking in those who've chosen to make fashion statements even upon arrival.

Krakoa, always stylish, but usually not aggressively so, doesn't even attempt not to fall into that category this year. All of them arrayed around Josh, in sharper cuts and focused shades. Gone are the earlier years' exuberant shades and softer, freer, playful fashion forrays. If they linger closer to him, and if discussions are quieter, but seemed more intense among them, perhaps, Krakoa has something on its mind. Especially after those obviously false reports about their missing founder, who can be found right in the thick of them, smiling a warm, if sometimes tight, smile.

Allison does step away from the group to greet friends and allies, new and old, both those made during her time living in White Tower and those built during her years on the Council of Five for Krakoa. After all, there are those she has missed and partnerships to see taken care of.

PANELS/EXPO

Allison is remorseless and regretless in the fact she harmlessly encourages one or two underlings and a robobutler into moving her panel into the first morning of the first day of the Synod. Her panel, titled ”Peace, at What Price: The Story of our Children,” starts with a broad overview of the rising tide of strife and violence among the factions over the last decade, focusing heaviest on the well-known clashes of the last two-three years.

It focuses mostly on how this chaos and violence is affecting the youngest among them, for children being born now all the way up those just in the burgeoning glow right before adulthood. Clearly and directly pulled from those who have come to Krakoa in the last few years, just how much and what they’ve needed to help them adjust, heal, acclimate to a less turbulent civilian life in neutral territory. How they’ve responded to the ample health services, training, freedom.

At the end, there is the reminder that Krakoa’s doors are open to all ages, children through the oldest of adults. That all of the amenities and health services they’ve been speaking of are available to anyone who joins them. Then, she opens the floor for questions if you have them.

Outside of that, she can be found often in the presence of Josh, and the other Council Members, as well and always as Luther, and one of her many other Hargreeves family members, when she doesn't step away to attend panels that have interested her, demonstrations on the EXPO floor, and to make meetings, here and there, with those friends and allies that she saw earlier and has not yet been able to catch up with. The Synod always serves so many purposes.

For all the Allison has always loved fashion, a fact that hadn't changed in her move from White Tower to Krakoa, Allison's wardrobe makes a statement in Synod 2020. While she can be found is several cuts and styles, one thing never changes this year: it's all based in solid blacks and accenting golds. Seeming to slide almost purposely from the stately black into bolder golds as the Synod week wears on.

GALA

The Gala affair is no different, when Allison arrives stately in more gold-than-black, but she isn't alone this time. The whole of Krakoa's Council of Five appears in the same arraignment, a sea of black and gold, around an island in the middle: Josh, clad in black alone, gleaming gold just by being.

They move as a unit, dividing at times, peeling off to talk, to dance, to eat, but never once leaving Josh alone to the maelstrom of the crowds. Never. Allison does find the time to do those things, too, even if her attention seems divided at times. Still, she takes her dinner; enjoys flitting around the room, carrying a glass of champagne; complimenting the night's affair, the best parts of which new faction is displaying itself, talking to anyone she (figuratively) bumps into; accepting requests for a conversation to the side as well as those for a dance.

But if she happens to always make sure the last dance (and several in between) belong to Luther, perhaps, this surprises no one either all these years later.

Edited 2020-09-17 03:37 (UTC)

[ For threads & plotting, feel free to reach out at

wanderlustlover ]

The personal robobutler was annoying for the most part, for constantly reminding him like the rest to don't leave the Porter facility, which he finds that suspicious. Now he regrets coming over for the convention and party once he learns everyone is sealed inside for a week. It did it's job helping him and his family to settle in their rooms.

At the party, he was being stoic for the most part. When the music starts, while everyone else finds a dance partner or wander off to explore the rest of the convention area, he walks around aimlessly through the crowd, hands tucked properly behind his back.

He finds Wei Wuxian drinking all by himself. It was dark in the ballroom, the music plays, and the world around them fades so no one can see well in the dark. Before Wei Wuxian knows it, Lan Wangji takes one of his hands in an attempt to lead him into a dance.

"Wei Ying. Will you dance with me? Perhaps, if only just for a little while."

CONVENTION FLOOR
With the uptick in imPort activity both new and old, Cecelia finds herself with little choice but to make herself known -- just as much to those who knew rumor of her as to those who might make the mistake of trying to seek her out. She has to stop the bottleneck somehow!

She moves about the convention with an air of haughty disinterest by the way she carries herself, wearing a mask of disinterest and distaste as she goes, her ears far too keen to avoid the voices of even quiet conversations in her midst.

The exhibition area itself is a grating cacophony, and any approaching her here will find her patience quite thin and her answers clipped with just the barest edges of courtesy. No longer does she freeze up and go numb in vast crowds as she did as a girl, but Cecelia still has no stomach for multitudes; best place to approach her here is to find her seated along a wall, her coloring a bit paler than usual and a sheen of sweat along her brow. Her eyes are ever scanning for the sight of her residents who desired to come, as she cannot afford to find them hurt -- or worse, swayed to another faction, revealing her secrets.

SUITE/HALLWAYS
Cecelia does not sleep, and even if she could, she would find no repose in this place. Putting aside the disturbing aura that this barricaded place has, the walls may as well not exist when it comes to sound, and she cannot stomach being such an unintentional eavesdropper on some of the sorts invited here.

Eugh.

Skirting around one of those obnoxious robots, she makes slow laps around an area of dining that is mostly closed for the late hour, save for some bars and all-night sorts. Where the lighting is too dark or intentionally moody, small orbs of light flicker and follow her as if she were some specter guiding spirits along somewhere unknown.

Eye contact during these hours may be eerie; her gaze is sharp and quietly combative, as if challenging you to approach at your own risk. It is softer to those who seem to exude magic...most of the time. And to those openly sporting cybernetics or lots of technology, her nose will crinkle slightly with disgust.

EVENINGS
Her eyes search for the familiar leaders of various factions, of course, because settings like these offer many openings to see signs of weakness or change -- things contrary to the hearsay she gets second- and third-hand. This is the kind of panel she was more prepared for: Growing up, she knew the dance of lukewarm pleasantries and the quiet duels that can come from strangers meeting and seeking tidbits of information to use or abuse.

Here she dresses in her finest, gleaming in flowing silks that compliment her dappled skin and fiery hair, not to show some secret opulence hidden in the Vale, but to make it clear she is taking this synod seriously -- that she'll play some of this game to ensure her land's safety.

Dance? Yes. She knows waltz steps, and her eyes are still fairly keen in the dimming ballroom; she'll not have a fast one pulled on her tonight, but she may find a partner or two of intrigue.

TRAIN
If it looks like a trap, feels like a trap...

Lucina barely has her bearings in this world, but things seem to be moving quickly to some pressure point of sorts. She can't risk avoiding it, should she find a way to either return to the world she hails from or, at the very least, mitigate any harm that could come of this. After all, it's not like the Swear-ins she knows ever went without a hitch when less than half this dire-feeling!

Much of her attention is on the view outside during the journey, her stomach doing anxious somersaults, and she starts at the sound of any entry into the car, her eyes shooting straight to the source. Her hand never leaves Aurora's hilt, both out of comfort and practicality.

What next? What now?

More importantly: Where are my friends in all of this, or am I truly alone?

CONVENTION FLOOR
"It...really is like a swear-in," she murmurs to herself, slowly walking into the massive space already full of people.

She sweeps the area with her unblinking gaze, still searching for something familiar -- even a silly brand logo will do! Already she'd gotten glimpses of a roster with faces and names that leave her very nervous indeed -- are Luke and Archie truly here? And what was with the titles of the things they're allegedly affiliated with...?

To some here, she may be a ghost among the crowd -- not in stealth, but in appearance alone. She doesn't know there was already a Lucina of Ylisse in this realm, one who perished years ago. She doesn't know who knew her then, doesn't know who to expect to approach her with that awareness.

Honestly, she's well aware how in over her head she is, but what can she do? To stand in place and do nothing is not the right call here. So she moves forward...

EVENINGS
Forward, and onward into the length of days the event goes on, still searching for answers (and the questions to couple with them). In much the same way as the day, she treads carefully, still more suited up for knightly combat than a proper dance. Her eyes still look for familiarity or, at least, guidance in this place, her heart still troubled by what she's begun to learn about the state of things.

"Please let me wake up," she murmurs.

Characters: Count Dooku + any who want to participate/respond
Topic summary: ImPort Factions Must Align Against the Shared 'Resistance' Threat

welcome.

Everyone at the gathering seems to be dressed in their best attire, but Wen Ning doesn't exactly have anything fancy. He's lucky if he's not in rags most days and today he's in barely a step above that, wearing the most simple of black robes.

Except that over his robe he's wearing the t-shirt and lanyard provided in the gift bag. He's a little surprised that everyone else isn't following suit, as he thought this had been expected of him. Still, he leaves it on. Maybe it will make him look more 'with the times'. (It absolutely will not.)

His robobutler keeps trying to bring him a drink, which he doesn't accept. The mechanical creature creeps him out and he'd prefer to get his own refreshments. After several more attempts he finally sets the drink atop the robot's head, which causes it to stand perfectly still and slowly move its arms up to try and remove it without spilling it and potentially short-circuiting itself. It stops trying after that - at least where drinks are concerned.

Aside from that annoyance, Wen Ning will be poking around... basically everything. It's all still so new and strange - and is this actual exercise equipment in this gym or are they actually torture devices?

convention.

Please let him try your things.

He doesn't have any money, but boy is he super curious. Do you have a hovering vehicle of some sort? Can he sit in it? He's never even been in a regular car.

What is that? Can he touch it? He's not going to ask how anything works, but he sure is going to hang around near the displays with the bright, curious expression of a young child.

wildcard.

Anywhere else you want him to pop up? Let me know!

He is barely paying attention when suddenly there is a hand on his and he is being lead to the dance floor. His eyebrows knit together and he looks up at the other in confusion.

"Lan Zh.." He pauses before the name can fully pass his lips. He hardly feels like he deserves to use such casual speech after how much he has tried to push them all away.

"I don't know how to dance."

This is exactly what he had tried to avoid and why coming to this event was such a risk. It meant having to see the ones he has tried so hard to push away.

ARRIVAL

[ Rimuru never comes to the Synod. He never did in fact. The thought of staying one week with everyone, pretending to be all friendly with one another, on a convention-like gathering, is the type of political nonsense he doesn't know how to handle. He leaves that to those who know such games better.

But this time, he decided he'd take a stand. After Josh was finally found, and after having his suspicion met - that Josh had indeed been taken by the White Tower faction - the council members of Krakoa all decided to take a stand and Rimuru would do the same. They come together and they show the rest of the world how strong they stand; there is a feeling of danger of sorts when approaching the group, and Rimuru meets this by refusing to stay on his slime (and much cuter) form. He looks human today, an adult at that and all he offers are glances and not the warm smile Rimuru is known for having when in his human form. The androgynous figure also carries two bat-like wings on his back and the gold adorning his clothes matches Josh's golden skin. All of it has a purpose.

When the other members of the council disperse, Rimuru finds a place away from the crowd while the robutler is there to continuously annoy him no matter where he turns. In fact, if you are paying enough attention, you may notice the robot is eventually surrounded by blue slime and once its engulfed in it, it disappears.

Yes, Rimuru just ate his robutler. ]

CONVENTION

[ Now he knows he was never missing much by not attending the synod. None of this interests him, but it's probably due to how he currently feels after everything that has happened. It's hard for him to keep a happy smile when he wishes he could just engulf this whole place down.

But he tries at least. During the week, while he continues to keep his human-like appearance, Rimuru falters from time to time and returns to the shape of a slime when he has the chance and there aren't many people around around. That form relaxes him the most, and it's one he is most comfortable with; which is also why some might approach to ask him about "what's it like being a slime" to which he always responds "it's the perfect body" because it really is.

Later, when he remembers, he will check the bag offered, only to find the stress ball. He can't help a little smile at this ] Aha- how ironic. Still- this is pretty shabby work. [ have you ever tried to hug Rimuru in his slime form? THAT is the best stressball you will meet ]

EVENING

[ Dinner is welcomed in the sense that he can taste the food he eats in his human from - as much Rimuru prefers to be a slime, it's a shame it's impossible to taste anything when in such form. So dinner is spent elegantly tasting all the food that passes by and probably saving some in his pocket dimension for later. Please do not judge, he already came to this event without complaining, Rimuru should at least be allowed to take as much food as his little slime heart desires.

And when the dance comes, he will feel less annoyed and more willing to mingle. Rimuru might ask someone to dance with a smile - or perhaps someone might ask Rimuru! They are someone who loves pretty people and it's hard to say no when he sees one.

But despite all of this, one may notice how to Council of Five always stay relatively close to each other. because in the end, they are here t show they are a unit. ]

Edited 2020-09-15 21:30 (UTC)

Added, thank you!

That's...disgusting.

[ Because of Allison's work with the Council, Five's become familiar with the rest of its members, including Rimuru. But that doesn't help the sight of the slime engulfing their robulter into whatever awaits in the endless pit of their stomach. ]

Don't you think that'll cause a scene?

[ He holds out a can of iced coffee, something he meant to offer before...that. Now Five, with his small golden tie pin, is aware that the Council plans to do exactly that — to make a statement for the rest to see. But, ah, this isn't what he had imagined. ]

The high priest attends the Synod to observe the political machinations playing out between factions. He is there as a representative of the Sanctum Aurorae. Declan Lynch can be found shadowing the itinerary of the Supreme Leader for part of the Synod and following his own whims for the rest of it. During the day, he is often found wearing hoods or other clothes that obscure all or part of his face. Despite his appearance, he regularly engages with other visitors, asking after the state of their own factions and adopted homelands.

Between events, Declan can be found in his suite, reading or otherwise entertaining himself. It is the one place anyone might see him relaxed, wearing something comfortable and simple. He might even entertain visitors, including those seeking information about the Sanctum. They won't get any, but he will entertain them none the less. His door is open, especially to members of the Sanctum's inner circle or acquaintances from years past.

During the convention, he attends talks and panels to listen to the debates and the airing of major grievances and concerns. He doesn't seem interested in participating, but he is there observing all the same, taking everything in: including what's going on around the room, not just at the front of it. He watches other faction members talking in the crowd, and he might just be eavesdropping. Regardless of his close observation, he is willing to engage in conversation with anyone in attendance, especially if they have something to say about the way things are going, or if they are curious about the elusive Sanctum.

At the expo, his interest is drawn to the books most of all, curious about the transfer of skills. He might even consider testing some of them out on one of the protected stages. More than once he is invited to duel, and he is more than willing to participate if his opponents are prepared. Rumors of the Sanctum Aurorae's nullifier are somewhat notorious - could they possibly be true?

In the evenings, he dresses more formally. He is polite to his dinner partners, and he might even discuss the politics of the day if someone brings them up. He is even willing to dance with various partners of any gender. At the end of the night, he extends his hand to someone, offering them the last dance.

[Feel free to wildcard him at any part of the event. All prompts are open. If you want to plot more, PM or ping me

givemedragons!]

Edited 2020-09-15 22:35 (UTC)

[ rimuru shrugs with a tiny smile that absolutely says "I'm a little shit". ] I like my privacy. And I am too humble for a butler. [ and well - ] I haven't dissolved it yet, so I can just spit it out if someone feels defensive of their robots.

[ the smile softens ] Are you enjoying the Synod so far, Five?

[The change from already-strange-human(?) to slime is enough of a surprise to Wen Ning that he drops the information brochure he was holding and takes a step away to the side in surprise.]

Y-young master! [Or Lady? He hadn't gotten a good enough look.]

[Without getting any closer, he bends down cautiously to be more at the slime's level.]

Have they melted? What do I do? [Had they been hit with some kind of melting spell? Should he find the caster?]

[ Five's mouth draws back into a thin line as he shakes his head. Might as well digest the damn thing, although — it's tough to avoid the thought of their caretaker back home. It's better that Grace isn't around to see this. ]

Well, what's not to like? Enemies around every corridor, and all the guests so on edge they've probably made themselves constipated with worry.

[ He offers up his usual sharp humor, so that has to be a good sign, right? ]

Honestly, I'm saving my appetite for the desserts. Supposing you don't burp up any metal shards, do you want to check it out with me later?

He's not going to let go of that hand. He's not going to let him go. This world is dangerous. He can sense it. So much danger and control. So many factions divided into a lost cause. Same as how many sects were divided in the past. In his knowledge of politics, eventually, it's hard to predict the stability of this world's government as a whole.

For now, he wants to forget. Because he'll be damned if he waited another week, another month, another year, a decade. His self-restraint hits it's limited and pushing him away did worked at one time, but he keeps coming back.

He dances slow, watching his step, and attempts to find a rhythm. There isn't any. He just wants to hold his hand and dance with him slowly. "Neither do I, but I always wanted to try with you."

Wei Wuxian can't pull away without causing a scene. And he has done everything he could these last few years to always be right under the radar. Able to do what he does because he is like a ghost in the shadows. So if he were to try and push someone like Lan wangji away it would only cause unwanted attention.

So he moved with him, his eyes averted. His words cause that stir of uncertainty inside of him again. The one that always questions whether he is making the right choices with his life.

"Why would you want to try to dance with me?"

I. Death Train

[ Being a parliamentarian before the Synod is busy work, and Rey is clearly very occupied with something. She wears a somber expression tinged with displeasure. Strangely, despite cloistering herself in a four person car to work, she is accompanied by Kylo Ren and his escort when she leaves to go get a snack on the bakery cart.

The First Lady will indulge citizens of the White Tower with a moment but something is very clearly annoying her.

Obligatory outfit ]

II. Party

[ Rey is a practiced party go-er at this point, although she is more likely to be rubbing elbows or slipping into dark corners with her allies to talk about some "urgent business."

She can be asked for a dance, but acceptance is not necessarily a given. Her dress is lovely as always, but seems to behave more like animated jewels around her skin rather than embellished fabric. ]

III. Wildcard

[ PM me if you'd like to set up a different starter for your character! Also check out the first reply as time progresses. ]

Somehow, despite all of Rey's best planning, she was down two assassins and still had one very much alive husband. She should still have two assassins and have started the Synod as Chancellor Pro Tempore. She supposed if she wanted a job done right, she would have to do it herself.

On the third night of the Synod, Rey wore a beautiful gown made of animated liquid gold. Ostentatious but within the style of the White Tower certainly. Nothing seemed too out of character as she offered polite smiles and shallow conversation at dinner and the party after.

As the night ended, she made sure to find her husband and with surprising affection, she slipped an arm around the High Chancellor and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "You look exhausted. Come to bed."

Edited 2020-09-17 01:30 (UTC)

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SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2020: THE SYNOD IS CONVENING.

PANEL & DEBATES

Ronan Lynch | Sanctum Aurorae

Wei Wuxian | The Untamed | OTA

Xue Yang | The Untamed | OTA

Josh Foley | KRAKOA

Allison Hargreeves | Krakoa

Arrival, Panels/Expo, Gala

Padmé Sinivalyana | Lumianry

II. Party

Cecelia Ardenbury | Olin Vale (leader) | OTA

LUCINA | Fresh imPort | OTA

no subject

Wen Ning | The Untamed | OTA

no subject

Rimuru Tempest / Krakoa Council Member

no subject

🤖🍴

Declan Lynch | Sanctum Aurorae

nomnom

convention

no subject

no subject

no subject

Rey | The White Tower | OTA

Rey does a murder - closed