Forced Confessions

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: At the end of a spring-time mingle party, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. unleashes a psychic weapon that forces characters to confess their secrets to one another. Check out the mod announcement for more information.
Date(s): First 2 weeks of April 2018
Warnings/Notes: Psychic influence/coercion, potential trauma, etc. in confessions. Please use subject header warnings appropriately!

Forced Confessions Event

I admit I'm on the rebound And I don't care

Five-Day Party

It begins with a party, out in the woods of Xistentia, with drinks, food, and fairy lights. The glade is illuminated in a brilliant palette of jewel tones, the most intense where the dancefloor stretches out between glow-in-the-dark marked trees, punctuated by F.A.T.E.S.' ever jarring, mismatched combination of musical tunes. Not far from that, you have enclosures of soft bedding set aside in mood-lit shadows, and veiled by mosquito net, for those of us who prefer more privacy.

The deeper nightclub colors fade to a warm, lustrous gold where there are spaces to sit, socialize, and eat.
Dining options feature treats from across the multiverse, including spice candy that will make your tongue feel just the faintest touch of a sting, native meats prepared with sauces and salts, and a variety of fruit and vegetables, some of which have a bioluminescent glow. Some of the wines are strong enough to knock a werewolf's metabolism on its ass— and these are marked with an audio sign, repeating the same warning over and over.

Other liquid refreshments include a blood bar, courtesy of Rafaello d'Este's local business.

Psychic Bomb: The Confessions (April 5-14)

But on the fifth evening, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. strikes. There's a warning— only 10 minutes in advance-- over the network, even while the vast majority of revelers are a little too busy to pay any attention to their daemons.

A black ball of some writhing, metallic substance abruptly comes tearing through the atmosphere, the size of your average adult human curled into fetal position. As it breaks through layers of gas, it adopts an orange glow for a brief instant. It's easily lost in the canopy, even for the most agile and practiced of Xistentia residents. It's impossible to tell what it is. A faint whine fills the air, and a moment later, the projectile detonates. The scent of tar fills the forest along with shouts of dismay. And too little too late, F.A.T.E.S. warning system begins to blare that a contaminant has entered the atmosphere.

However, apart from a few bruises, panic and partial deafness, nobody seems harmed at all. That is, until the compulsion sets in.

Your secrets, both large and small, suddenly become wrenching fodder for impulsive speech... or signing, texting, any multitude of communication methods wind up hijacked. The worst of it comes when you face someone you know and love. Sheer willpower might stave off the urge long enough for your character to get out of range for conversation, and it might be a good time to avoid company for awhile. It will come randomly, in spikes, for 2 weeks to follow.

Feel free to use the confessions thread here to start some textspam trouble!

Bomb Resolution (April 12+)

A week later, F.A.T.E.S. and both magic and science-minded researchers have analyzed the goop. The worst of the epidemic is localized around the party, though psychic ripples continue to be felt across Xistentia for a few days.

And now we need cleanup.

It's a motley group of unlikely volunteers. Some people are just lucky— they have no secrets they fear to share, or perhaps just no shame. Others are just good samaritans, willing to risk a terrifying level of honesty in the interest of preventing further damage to the relationships that make Xistentia run.

In any case, the group finds themselves armed with gloves, rubber suits, and floating glass containment orbs, manipulable with gestures, that can absorb the black ichor off the trees, earth, and furniture. This will be stored at the temple. And what we'll do with it—

Who knows. Or perhaps you and your compatriots have an idea for the substance permanent disposal to share.

Comments

[astralera]

I have been used by others for all my memory, though the ones who used me came to care for me soon enough. [ Era is glad she doesn't feel the compulsion to add her uncertainties after that, because that would be counterproductive. ] Perhaps it started as a desire to use you in some way, but I cannot believe he would not grow to love you in time.

[ She'll tug gently on his hand. ]

Come, Loki. Let's find you a more comfortable spot to rest.

[dothelokimotion]

[ Finally, he does rise, tired and wilting at the corners. Loki has always been a highly emotional creature and once that was drained away, all that was left was a silent mournful lethargy. He drops her hand once he rises, wrapping them around his elbows, afraid to touch, afraid to hold. Always afraid. ]

[astralera]

[ Era can't say she didn't expect him to physically withdraw from her, but it still stings a bit regardless. She sticks close enough to him to be felt without actually touching, guiding him toward a padded bench she recalls being particularly comfortable. She had actually fallen asleep on it once, which is not a common occurrence for her.

Once they reach the bench Era reaches into her inventory and pulls out a thick, large blanket and lays it across the top of the bench for added comfort, with half of it hanging over the side ready and waiting to swaddle whoever lays atop it.

She sits at one end of the bench and pats the empty space beside her. ]

Pray rest here for a moment. I will make sure no one disturbs you.

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki eyes the space briefly before he sits, sinking into it in silence. He picks at his fingers and skin, rubbing his palm raw, an old habit that holds deeper connotations now. His head hangs low, hair falling like a black curtain. ]

I'm not that tired.

[astralera]

[ Oh, don't you dare do that Loki. Era ignores her previous decision to avoid touching Loki until he seemed ready for it, but as soon as she sees him rubbing his skin raw - no. She reaches out, both hands aglow with healing aether as she wraps them around his hands, fully intent on mending his skin. ]

No, you are exhausted.

[dothelokimotion]

I — [ He wets his dry lips. ] — I want it off.

[astralera]

[ That confuses her enough to give her pause. ]

...Your skin?

[dothelokimotion]

It's fake. An illusion.

This is not what I look like.

[astralera]

[ Era understands immediately how important this moment is - that this is Loki opening himself up to her, being incredibly vulnerable. She hopes it isn't the fault of a compulsion.

Looking at him, expression intent and eyes brimming with affection for her friend, Era weighs her response carefully. ]

You need not keep illusions around me. I would be glad to see you.

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki shakes his head. ]

It is more than that. Frost Giants . . . their touch burns.

[astralera]

[ She knows what he means when he says that - recalls the searing burn of dragons who breathed ice instead of fire. Ice Elementals, Ice Zoblyns, Ice Soldiers, Ice Dragons, Icetraps... It has been a very long time since she last needed them for defense, but Era does have a pair of gloves crafted to withstand the most frigid of temperatures, embedded with materia for resistance against anything ice aspected.

While she no longer needs them to protect her from frost breath they are rather wonderful for keeping her hands warm when she visits Coerthas. ]

I have gloves for such things.

[ She pulls away to locate them, somewhere deep in the forgotten recesses of her inventory's armory. When she pulls them out they don't look like anything at all - invisible from the glamour she cast upon them. It's barely a moment's effort to tug her old gloves back on and she wiggles her fingers to break them back in before placing one of her hands back atop Loki's. It might feel odd - a very thin layer of fabric that still allows the warmth of her skin to seep through, almost as though there isn't anything covering her hands.

Glamours are a wondrous thing. Era has no idea how she would have used most of her weapons if she had to wear bulky gloves. ]

The breath of the fiercest Ice Dragon could not hope to burn me through these.

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki still cringes. It's irrational, he knows. His magic is still protecting him, keeping him Asgardian. This one flagrant weakness that he houses within himself, that twists him into knots. That drags any kind of value into the mud.

He's scared, he's scared and he wants Thor to fight these monsters because Loki could never do it, Loki was a coward, is a coward through and through. He shivers. ]

It does not matter. It doesn't. I'll burn through it all. I've burned everything down.

[astralera]

[ Looking him in the eyes with her own bright blues bright with a fierce determination, Era dares: ]

Then burn me.

[ And then she moves forward to pull Loki into a hug. Whatever he says, her friend will not scare her away. There are worse things in life than being unintentionally burned by a friend. ]

It will not destroy me, Loki. Hands can be healed and flesh repaired.

[dothelokimotion]

[ For a moment, Loki reacts violently, his entire body shuddering under the weight, his daggers in his hands, to rend and tear, to rip it apart before his fingers spasms, dropping the knives. A hideous sob bursts from his throat as he begins to weep. ]

[astralera]

[ This isn't a reaction Era had expected nor been prepared for, but she's nothing if not skilled at improvisation. She shifts so that she's kneeling atop the bench and not sitting on it, so she's more able to hold him close without the awkwardness of their heights; press him to her brest that she might stroke his hair and hum a soothing tune.

Era has no experience comforting the inconsolable, but she has witnessed countless mothers doing the same for their ill children and so can only assume (hope) it's a comfort. ]

[dothelokimotion]

[ It is mostly dry sobs that shake his frame. No tears seem to fall, but at the very least it seems to subside over time. He keeps his gaze low, as if he's too afraid to make eye contact. ]

when you notice a typo over a week later /screams

[astralera]

[ Era continues rubbing small circles against her friend's back that are hopefully soothing. This is not her forté but she's more than willing to put the effort in for him. ]

it happens

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki pulls away, rubbing his fingers over his palm, afraid to speak. ]

[astralera]

[ While normally Era would be content on waiting for Loki to speak, the current circumstances make her more willing to break the silence first. ]

Are you feeling any better?

[dothelokimotion]

No . . . not particularly.

[ But he's used to that. Feeling "better" is not a state of mind Loki is familiar with. ]

[astralera]

[ She lets out a small hum of acknowledgement. ]

Would you care to rest?

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki shivers. He should go home . . . but to go back and look at Thor . . . to see the shame and horror. No. He can't go back. ]

Perhaps. In time.

[astralera]

[ Era doesn't know what Loki has on his mind, but she can relate to not particularly wanting to go home and rest. She still feels shame whenever she thinks of how she failed to save Eorzea yet again, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y or no. ]

Then I shall keep you company for a time, if you'll permit it.

[ She loves Aymeric so very much, but there are some things she's not ready to voice to him yet and she doesn't want to risk being forced to. ]

This place is a comfort to me in the times that home is not.

[dothelokimotion]

My real home is dark and cold. They left me to die there. I think — deep down, my father always regretted rescuing me.

[ Odin was trying to squeeze Loki's worth out from a rock. When there was nothing to be had, Odin discarded him. Loved him still, but discarded him all the same. ]

[astralera]

[ She shifts slightly, moving closer to her friend. There is no judgment nor pity on her face. ]

I do not have parents, nor the memory of having them. I have found a family for myself over the years, however, and it would be that much smaller if your father left you to that grim fate.

[ The thought of Loki being left alone in the cold and dark to die is a dagger to her heart. She leans some of her weight against him without thought, seeking reassurance that he's still hale and whole beside her. Era wishes she could take his suffering away and replace it with happiness. ]

I cannot say I can understand why he would regret saving you, but I am thankful that he did. I should like to meet this father of yours one day to tell him just that.