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Forced Confessions
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!
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.
Other liquid refreshments include a blood bar, courtesy of Rafaello d'Este's local business.
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!
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.
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.
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.
no subject
His question begets a look of confusion. It's somewhat of a random question, though Era supposes that since she's currently gathering some variant of yarrow (to dry and keep on hand while it's in season) it isn't entirely unrelated.
It's also a hard question. She has seen so many different blooms in her admittedly short life so far and she is fond of most all of them. ]
Bright Blueclouds, or Brightlilies, or Lotuses.
[ The first being a flower that blooms in bright blue clusters that resemble clouds (she appreciates the childlike whimsy), the second being beautiful for decoration (she has a corsage of them for her hair in her inventory), and the third being beautiful and edible (she has none on hand because she ate them the last time she gathered them).
She may be smudged with dirt and have sap smeared into her botanist's vest but she is not embarrassed for it - Aymeric appreciates hard work, and would never think any less of her for being a bit dirty because of it. But Era feels the compulsion to ask something she has been wondering about now and then since her return - ]
Do you prefer my hair longer, or would you rather it short again?
no subject
Lotuses, [ he repeats, tucking away the piece of information mentally. ] They would make for a beautiful boquet.
[ Which probably gives what he is intending away, but-That's fine. It wasn't anything he was going to try and actively hide.
She asks her own question in kind and he has to take a moment himself to think about it. While he means to say that he doesn't particularly care how she wears her hair, what comes out instead is a fairly truthful- ]
I prefer it longer. I think you look softer but it still doesn't take away from your strength.
no subject
Yes, but I have something in mind for that already.
[ Era tugs at a strand of her hair experimentally. It had been tempting to shear it back down, but it's been an interesting change. When she ties it back it isn't quite so inconvenient, though she was planning to cut it short again soon. ]
If you like it then I'll keep it this way. It will look nice with my wedding dress.
[ And speaking of their wedding, Era's mouth continues speaking without her consent -- ]
I would like to consummate our marriage more traditionally the night of our wedding, if you're amenable to it. [ oh my gods no, please stop. ] You haven't attempted much more than kissing me so I'm uncertain if it's something you would like. That is... I know I'm not beautiful. And I am an Au Ra. And while I know you love me I wonder if maybe--
[ Era finally just slams her hands over her mouth to make the words stop slipping out. She's so very beyond embarrassed. She is horrified. Mortified. So much so that her face isn't flushed red but drained of colour.
So. She'll just. Cover the rest of her face with her hands as well. Because she cannot bear to look at her husband after that. Twelve smite her now. Save her this horrific death. ]
no subject
Aye, I believe it would. [ He can't help but say. It's quite the mental image already, honestly, and he almost gets lost in envisioning it but then she says
that. He's not necessarily shy. Modest, likely, is the word best suited to Aymeric. Private, perhaps, but Era and him both were so he at least hadn't imagined this was a conversation they'd have in broad daylight. It's not as if anyone might be listening. They're far enough out but he can still feel the heat rising on his own cheeks due to him being just a bit flustered suddenly. Unlike her, he's suddenly far too red and uncomfortably hot. ]
You are beautiful, [ he contests, his own words drawn out before he can stop them himself now. His feet push him forward without him thinking about it either to bridge the distance between them. Even if she isn't looking at him, he hopes the nearness helps alleviate some of her worry that she'd said something wrong. Even if this isn't the most... orthodox way this conversation could have happened, it is important that it's happening to him nonetheless. ] Please, never believe that you aren't. And you being an Au Ra has nothing to do with why I haven't-
[ A breath to try and compose himself before he blathers out something he might regret. ]
I don't think you know how badly I've wanted to kiss you. To embrace you more intimately. Perhaps in trying to refrain out of respect, however, I... over-corrected and held myself too far back. [ He had only wanted her to feel comfortable but- ] I never intended to make you feel unwanted.
no subject
He thinks she's beautiful, but Era disagrees. Perhaps she has pretty eyes, and she's proud of her horns, but she is thin and lacking the womanly curves she's seen on others. Her hair is a dreary ashen brown. Her nose and cheeks freckled from the sun where her scales aren't protecting it. Next to Aymeric she's as beautiful as a Morbol's breath.
Taking a steadying breath, Era pulls her hands away from her face though doesn't look at her husband just yet. ]
I am not beautiful. [ She's never been one to lie, so Aymeric can take this as her truth. ] But I am happy to hear you disagree, and that my horns and tail are not unattractive to you.
[ One more slow, calming breath and she's ready to tilt her head back that she might look Aymeric in the eye. ]
I am an adventurer and scholar, dear Aymeric. I enjoy exploring and learning new things. While most of what I've read and heard about physical intimacy is not appealing to me on its own, if it were paired with you I believe I would enjoy much of it.
no subject
I hope someday that you can see yourself the way that I do. [ He does take it as her truth, but it doesn't make him happy to hear. She doesn't need feminine curves or flawless skin; she is already a diamond not in the rough but born of it. In the face of adversity, Era always shined brighter than any gem he'd ever known. ] I will do my best as your husband to make it so.
[ Also, he's... considering that last bit. He will respect any limits that she puts into place but maybe he can be unafraid to add little spontaneity into their relationship after all. He does just that, in this very moment, by leaning down to place a light kiss against her lips. It doesn't last but a couple of seconds, nothing overbearing but more than he would usually be comfortable with in public (back home, at least). ]
I look forward to enjoying it with you too.
no subject
Era leans up into the kiss, pressing back by standing on her toes, doing her best to lessen the distance that Aymeric has to stoop to reach her. She pulls away when he does, flushed face quite visible now that her hands moved to hold on to the fabric of her husband's shirt.
It's been decided then. That they'll consummate their marriage properly when the time comes. It's... Both thrilling and nerve wracking. Era is excited to experience it, but scared that she'll somehow be inadequate; a disappointment. The thought of leaving herself so vulnerable to another is surprisingly not one of the things that worries her - though perhaps it isn't so surprising, because she thinks of it only in relation to Aymeric and there are few she trusts as much as him.
But as enlightening as this has all been, Era would really, really like to change the subject. ]
Are you on patrol?
no subject
He can only hope that he lives up to her expectations. While study can be more clinical, he has no doubt that's also heard from some of the more... knowledgeable peoples of Xistentia on the subject matter.
Before he can worry overly much, however, she's asking him a new inquiry. He agrees that though informative, it's likely best not to linger on it for overly long. ]
Aye, I am. It's one of the few ways I can find to make myself feel useful here.
[ And she knows that but he feels compelled to say it, maybe. He misses home, in his own ways, but he mostly misses have a more focused sense of purpose. ]
no subject
Yes, it's difficult to find one's place here. I feel somehow that we aren't suited to this world, even disregarding the circumstances.
When one is removed from their reason for existence... [ Her lips curve downward in a frown, brows furrowed. ] If I cannot be a weapon what then am I supposed to be, Aymeric?
[ It's clear this has been something bothering her for a while. It's probably been noticeable in the way she's gone about living in Xistentia, really. Though she's never admitted it out loud to anyone. Why would she, after all? ]
no subject
It's a difficult question she asks next and one he's often contemplated as of late. If he can't be Lord Commander, then what is he? While he's tried to find purpose elsewhere, it's been... difficult, to say the least. He understands her unease. They're two people from a world that is definitely at odds from the majority. That isn't anything new but he's felt the rift especially strongly as of late. ]
To that, I would say anything you want. But I also know it isn't quite as simple as that to re-find one's meaning... I wish I could give you a more substantial answer but I've yet to find it myself.
no subject
So she hesitates for the briefest of moments, then jumps up with the ease of a trained dragoon to wrap her arms around Aymeric's neck and her legs around his torso in one smooth motion. She has no words to express her appreciation for his presence and his understanding, so instead she will do as she often does and express it with her actions. ]