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Entry tags:
- #event,
- arthur stuart (velvet goldmine),
- aymeric de borel (final fantasy xiv),
- jace herondale (shadowhunters),
- jughead jones (riverdale),
- kenzi malikov (lost girl),
- kurt wagner (xmcu),
- loki (mcu),
- marcus wright (tsfb),
- mikaela hyakuya (sote),
- nico di angelo (chb),
- private joker (full metal jacket),
- rafaello d’este (oc),
- will solace (chb),
- wyatt lawson (oc)
War with D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.
Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. comes to Xistentia for the first time, bringing with it violence and havoc. Combat against enemy agents, healing, emergency sanctuary, and "Drift Compatibility" happen here. Refer to the OOC plotting post and the mod announcement!
Date(s): November 4-18
Warnings/Notes: Violence, death, psychological themes, trauma. Please warn for anything else in your subject headers!
Everything is, in short, super fucked. Era Ra's warning came at the right time, forewarning of some of the weapons and fighting styles that could be expected from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s agents, but still, the people of Xistentia have not faced a force like this before. The ragtag combination of fighting styles and tactics promises both versatility and confusion.
For better or worse, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. is in similar chaos.
The first to come are ships from the Western sea, bearing a mix of warriors in and monsters. Some wield old-fashioned steel swords and others bear laser blasters, and their armor is just as varied. Some creatures appear domesticated, while others are feral and snap at their own. However, one primary feature identifies the enemy: their war color is red, which adorns flags and uniforms. Interestingly, the sea and sky of Xistentia seem to be fighting back in their own way, massive waves and a storm, even animals pestering them as they attempt to land the beach. However, it's only a matter of time before the mainstay of their forces reach land, some two hundred fighters. It's then that sentient fires start to whirl into the forests, leaping from tree to tree. You have the home court advantage. Even the foliage itself seems to cooperate with you, aiding in efforts for stealth by keeping you downwind, twigs failing to crack when you misstep. Soon, you're joined by Xistentia's other forces-- a handful of battered ships taking air, an odd assortment of elves and talking dogs, demons and aliens from outer-space, coordinating counter-attacks.
You're locked in combat with a woman who seems oddly familiar, though you don't know her face and can't think of her name. You hit her in the head, and now a narrow slice of her face shows through her red-rimmed helm. She wields a rifle tipped with a heavy blade, though it crackles with electrical energy. She is a proficient swordswoman, deftly parrying and striking against you, her face eerily expressionless. Her blade has a switch that, when activated, will send out a net that numbs your limbs and drags you to the floor. Here's hoping you won't face this demon alone.
She's not your only problem. You may have noticed, that in every epic battle with evil wizards, there's always some kind of a problematically gigantic elephant. This is one of those days. At least, there's only one, its trunk as wide as a car, its feet moving slow, so that it might crush the trees rather than trip over them.
Fight one or both, or fight the hordes of nameless minions around them. Either way: there's plenty to do. Those of you who thought things were too quiet here? You'll be busy today.
Fighting isn't for you? Well, you'll want to get out of the way, then. The "wards" protecting the city are failing, and people are heading toward The Temple where the protections remain the strongest. Here, the injured need healing in the stone beds. The civilians do their best, comforting children, cooking food, trading intelligence, repairing weapons and armor where possible. Feel free to pitch in; they need all the help they can get.
And here, you've reached the Temple, you've laid yourself down on one of the many glass-and-stone beds within the safety of its stone walls. You know what the other Xistentia residents have told you about it— this is the next phase, after the memory share had raised shields against the psychotropic rain. This is the PsyLink. Through this bond, you are said to be able to activate special defenses. No one seems to know exactly what they are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And beyond the Temple walls, times are desperate indeed.
Each drift requires at least two people. Your daemons will find and connect you, seemingly at random— and you may find yourself with the unlikeliest of partners.
The Kissing Booth participants find it easiest. Everyone else-- it's a wild jumble, finding yourself caught up in a firehose of not only your own memories, but that of someone else. Everything they think, everything they feel, is intertwined with your mind.
You can't get caught up in it. You have to let the memories of the past, your predictions for the future, and the terror of war flow in and out of you, without neither resistance or pursuit, gently tuning them out. And in this serenity, this psychic silence, this acceptance of not only yourself but the other other, you find perfect connectivity— harmony with your PsyLink partner.
In this space, you find yourself having strange conversations. You and your partner will share ghostly images, some of which seem to be images from the past— while others seem to be present-day moments from the battle outside, fighting the enemy, as if you are somehow in two places at once. You must find traction and stay in the now and stay calm, but it's harder than you think.
The instant you latch onto that memory or emotion, it's a mistake... but you forget.
Your shadow is here. Whether out-of-context, or right here where it was meant to be, it's trying to kill you.
But you're not trapped here alone. Someone is calling your name, a familiar voice in the pandemonium. That voice comes from your drift partner. It's up to them to pull you back, remind you of who you are, and balance you. Hold on to them - they're your anchor, but you'll have to do the same for them. A successful drift means helping each other. Do it well, and you'll help to power the temple's defences. Fail, and there'll be trouble for everyone seeking sanctuary here.
Summary: D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. comes to Xistentia for the first time, bringing with it violence and havoc. Combat against enemy agents, healing, emergency sanctuary, and "Drift Compatibility" happen here. Refer to the OOC plotting post and the mod announcement!
Date(s): November 4-18
Warnings/Notes: Violence, death, psychological themes, trauma. Please warn for anything else in your subject headers!
WAR WITH DESTINY
By headsman's blade or battle-axe
Fight For Your Life
Everything is, in short, super fucked. Era Ra's warning came at the right time, forewarning of some of the weapons and fighting styles that could be expected from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s agents, but still, the people of Xistentia have not faced a force like this before. The ragtag combination of fighting styles and tactics promises both versatility and confusion.
For better or worse, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. is in similar chaos.
The first to come are ships from the Western sea, bearing a mix of warriors in and monsters. Some wield old-fashioned steel swords and others bear laser blasters, and their armor is just as varied. Some creatures appear domesticated, while others are feral and snap at their own. However, one primary feature identifies the enemy: their war color is red, which adorns flags and uniforms. Interestingly, the sea and sky of Xistentia seem to be fighting back in their own way, massive waves and a storm, even animals pestering them as they attempt to land the beach. However, it's only a matter of time before the mainstay of their forces reach land, some two hundred fighters. It's then that sentient fires start to whirl into the forests, leaping from tree to tree. You have the home court advantage. Even the foliage itself seems to cooperate with you, aiding in efforts for stealth by keeping you downwind, twigs failing to crack when you misstep. Soon, you're joined by Xistentia's other forces-- a handful of battered ships taking air, an odd assortment of elves and talking dogs, demons and aliens from outer-space, coordinating counter-attacks.
BATTLE MODE: ATTACK
You're locked in combat with a woman who seems oddly familiar, though you don't know her face and can't think of her name. You hit her in the head, and now a narrow slice of her face shows through her red-rimmed helm. She wields a rifle tipped with a heavy blade, though it crackles with electrical energy. She is a proficient swordswoman, deftly parrying and striking against you, her face eerily expressionless. Her blade has a switch that, when activated, will send out a net that numbs your limbs and drags you to the floor. Here's hoping you won't face this demon alone.
She's not your only problem. You may have noticed, that in every epic battle with evil wizards, there's always some kind of a problematically gigantic elephant. This is one of those days. At least, there's only one, its trunk as wide as a car, its feet moving slow, so that it might crush the trees rather than trip over them.
Fight one or both, or fight the hordes of nameless minions around them. Either way: there's plenty to do. Those of you who thought things were too quiet here? You'll be busy today.
SEEK SANCTUARY
Fighting isn't for you? Well, you'll want to get out of the way, then. The "wards" protecting the city are failing, and people are heading toward The Temple where the protections remain the strongest. Here, the injured need healing in the stone beds. The civilians do their best, comforting children, cooking food, trading intelligence, repairing weapons and armor where possible. Feel free to pitch in; they need all the help they can get.
BATTLE MODE: SUPPORT (PSYLINK)
And here, you've reached the Temple, you've laid yourself down on one of the many glass-and-stone beds within the safety of its stone walls. You know what the other Xistentia residents have told you about it— this is the next phase, after the memory share had raised shields against the psychotropic rain. This is the PsyLink. Through this bond, you are said to be able to activate special defenses. No one seems to know exactly what they are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And beyond the Temple walls, times are desperate indeed.
Each drift requires at least two people. Your daemons will find and connect you, seemingly at random— and you may find yourself with the unlikeliest of partners.
Drift Compatible
The Kissing Booth participants find it easiest. Everyone else-- it's a wild jumble, finding yourself caught up in a firehose of not only your own memories, but that of someone else. Everything they think, everything they feel, is intertwined with your mind.
You can't get caught up in it. You have to let the memories of the past, your predictions for the future, and the terror of war flow in and out of you, without neither resistance or pursuit, gently tuning them out. And in this serenity, this psychic silence, this acceptance of not only yourself but the other other, you find perfect connectivity— harmony with your PsyLink partner.
In this space, you find yourself having strange conversations. You and your partner will share ghostly images, some of which seem to be images from the past— while others seem to be present-day moments from the battle outside, fighting the enemy, as if you are somehow in two places at once. You must find traction and stay in the now and stay calm, but it's harder than you think.
The instant you latch onto that memory or emotion, it's a mistake... but you forget.
Your shadow is here. Whether out-of-context, or right here where it was meant to be, it's trying to kill you.
But you're not trapped here alone. Someone is calling your name, a familiar voice in the pandemonium. That voice comes from your drift partner. It's up to them to pull you back, remind you of who you are, and balance you. Hold on to them - they're your anchor, but you'll have to do the same for them. A successful drift means helping each other. Do it well, and you'll help to power the temple's defences. Fail, and there'll be trouble for everyone seeking sanctuary here.
no subject
[ In all fairness, there's every chance that Rafa might never think he's worthy of Shane. He puts Shane on so high a pedestal that no one can reach it. That's not without reason, but it says as much about Rafa's valuation of himself as it does his opinion of Shane. He'll never truly escape his parent programming. It's too deeply ingrained, despite the nice veneer he can place on it now.
For Kavinsky this is all new. He's so flush with the power of it, so happy with himself. Rafa feels the first twinge of misgiving. Was he wrong to create a vampire that loved this strength as much as he once did himself? Is that in itself another blot on his record?
He thinks about Shane and wonders what he would think of all this. Shane has always been the one who taught morality to Rafa. ]
If he heard this he would say I do not need to be better, because he loves me anyway. But I know it, you see. I know he deserves someone who does not answer ever trouble with blood. Yet this is what I know, so how can I stand aside? This war needs me to be a killer again, and I will do it, but it does not make me happy. Not anymore.
This troubles you, Kavinsky? You would want me to be as I was?
no subject
and then he thinks of vex. and then he stops thinking about vex, forcibly, almost violently, switching his eyes back over the older vampire's handsome face.]
No. I'm just surprised you changed while I wasn't giving any fucks about the details, I guess. News flash: I'm an asshole. [kavinsky pulls in tighter, his eyelashes catching their tips on rafa's. his mouth near enough to kiss and the syllables forged by his lips forming misshapen kisses as he does, in between the smiles, all fang, all pleasure. his breath smells even more strongly of blood than he does.]
I like you how you are. I like you however the fuck you've become, mom.
[it's just a funny coincidence, vex made a similar change, didn't he? sort of. everyone wins who they want. everybody gets better. everybody except for him. and he'll think about that later.]
You don't miss it? Being guiltless. Free.
no subject
[ So he's not surprised, really, that it passed Kavinsky by. After all in Eudio it hadn't mattered. There had been no wars to fight, and no reason to talk about Rafa's changed attitude until one reared its head. Everything is different now. He doesn't know what his young fledgling is thinking, but if he did, he'd point to the vicious, obedient creature he was at Kavinsky's age, and reflect on the five hundred years and more that have passed since. He has plenty of time to think now that he can live those years for himself.
But perhaps he will never change, and perhaps that will be all right. Rafa doesn't necessarily expect him to. His rough and eager kisses are returned, and Rafa pulls him close enough to hold him, almost cradling him. He senses anxiety in his fledgling's eager movements. He touches his cheek, and then kisses his nose, mostly because it's the closest part of his face. ]
Thank you. I like you as well. Do not be so worried.
I miss it sometimes. Chiefly I miss how easy it was when I could simply kill my enemy. Making peace involves so much paperwork.
[ He gives Kavinsky a faint smile, hoping to lighten the mood. And the worry. ]
But I was not free. It is not freedom to worry all the time that my family could get lost as Shane did, or be taken in battle while they fought my war. I have seen my husband trapped in another world, my sister taken and enslaved. I have almost died twice, and been saved by those who risked themselves for me. They are my family. There is nothing I would not do to keep them safe. That is real freedom. Do you understand?
ilu ilthis
it's a good story. important. suddenly, the blood clotting his clothes and his skin and his hair doesn't feel easy and meaningless. it's unpleasant. smelly. reminiscent of things better forgotten.
his fingers dig into the fabric of rafa's sleeve for a moment, then relax again. he blinks hard in the half-light.] That doesn't sound like freedom, [he points out, his voice gone inexplicably scratchy. he used to be able to hide these subtle variations, these tells, under a mountain of cocaine. alas.] That sounds like you're trapped.
throws feelings at you
Vex. Caleb. Aric. Severed tethers.
That's why Rafa holds him tighter. ]
Trapped by what, by family? By having people who love me, and loving them back? I spent long enough with no one. That is not the life I want. I know that people have disappointed you. That does not mean they always will. Trust someone who knows.
IS STRUCK BY 20 TONS OF FEELINGS ;w;
but it's moments like these that remind him, in a gentler way than regret or self-loathing, that there have been forks in the path before. that there will be more. and that there are people who want him to pick the right one, not out of exasperation or terror, but because they truly care about him in their own way.
he doesn't answer for an uncharacteristically long time. just feeling rafa's arms, letting the fringes of guilt-panic and existential despair recede out of sight. fact is, kavinsky has always liked being held, but it's easy to admit here, now.]
I believe you, [he says after awhile.]
no subject
He gives him a little squeeze, and bends down to kiss his forehead. ]
Good. I would truly like to see you happy, you know.
&fade if it's goo d w you
[kavinsky turns his head just so, skimming a kiss off the other vampire's mouth with a slant of his head. after that, it's only a matter of time before the shower queue finally has them up to clean off old blood. and then it's only a matter of hours before it's time to shed new blood and all the moral weight that comes with.]