xistentia | Forced Confessions

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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!

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Loki flushes and it makes his skin look purple briefly. Praise of any kind immediately makes him feel unguarded and off-footed. When Thor removes Loki's clothes, he rises slightly to curl tentative fingers around the sides of Thor's neck and kiss him like a benediction. Gratitude sank into his veins, cloud-like. He's unfamiliar with the sensation of acceptance and being wanted. And it's Thor. Loki slides his hands down Thor's bare chest, the coolness of his skin against Thor's warmth. ]

[ The easy chill of Loki's touch has a soothing kind of sensation to it, Thor's body always such a furnace, running warm enough that he hardly ever puts sleeves on his clothes (which maybe has something to do with his arms being offensively huge as well, shh).

He mimics the motion, following the trail of raised lines along Loki's neck and chest like reading braille, slow and curious, running back to retrace ones he particularly likes the shape of. ]

If your crown mark means royalty, do you think the others might have a meaning? [ Lifting his hand, Thor moves to touch another set of lines, as if naming each of them. ] Sorcerer. [ Another set. ] Strategist. [ Touching yet another. ] Smart ass.

[ a smirk. ]

[ Loki swats at Thor's hand lightly, even if the corners of his lips tick upwards in the ghost of a smirk. ]

They're probably nothing. Just markings.

Mh. I like my idea better.

[ Really, Loki is entirely his own creature, so unique and extraordinary, so why shouldn't he get to invent his own meanings? or, you know, let Thor do it. Which he's going to, as he eases Loki back to lay down on the bed, so he can look over his torso and arms better, hovering over him on hands and knees. He traces on line over Loki's throat. ]

Silver tongued. [ Another along his right arm. ] Scholar. [ One on his side, leading down towards his hip. ] Relentlessly incredible in bed.

[ nurr hurr hurr. ]

[ He can't help it. Loki laughs, his shoulders shaking from the effort of holding it in briefly. It sounds so light, like silver bells. ]

I think you missed all my duplicitous lines.

Did I? Hm. Let's look.

[ This is Thor's Innocent Face, looking completely serious as he checks Loki's sides for more lines, murmuing 'nope, nope', before gripping his shoulder and half one side of his ass through his slacks to roll him over on his stomach. ]

Ah, so I did. [ He exclaims, like he's some kind of master of jotun lines and what they mean. Clearly these are the duplicitous ones over here. ] Here we have them - Prankster, Violent tendencies towards beloved brothers who never deserved anything but hugs, aaaand Bad Morning Breath.

[ Okay, bad morning breath is the last straw and spurs Loki from inaction. Quick as a flash, Loki pushes Thor off him only to straddle his hips and grasping at Thor's hands, pinning them to the sides of his head. ]

Perhaps you're in dire need of some wisdom lines if you think you can insult my breath and get away with it.

[ Thor makes a sound that's half a yelp, half a mad cackle, as he goes flipping onto his back, only struggling enough to make Loki keep him pinned. ]

Then conjure us a marker and add them. [ as if he's ever feared what Loki might do to him for one insult or another. even the stabbing he didn't particularly mind much. they were never in a place that would do real harm to him. ] Unless you've other means for it.

[ Loki could turn him into Sif for a little bit, survey he could add a few lines for fun. ]

[ Loki clicks his tongue, mulling it over. Then he presses two fingers to Thor's forehead, watching the blue wash over Thor's features. Perhaps it'll feel differently if he could see the same skin, the same marks on his brother. Maybe he wouldn't feel so . . . lost. ]

How about that?

[ It doesn't feel any different, save for the chill of Loki's touch against his skin, and that seems about right - his magic's always been so subtle. it's more how much he knows Loki that has him catching his illusions than how much he knows his magic. But the idea of Loki giving him the same skin sends something joyful and excited through him, grinning like a child. ]

I don't know, can't see it from here. Did you give me the crown one too? [ reaching up one the hand loki had to unpin to touch his forehead, thor pats around, trying to find the lines. he should definitely get the crown one too. ]

[ Loki flicks his fingers so the same circular mark appears upon Thor's brow. He leans back briefly (though he doesn't move from his straddling position). He can't actually tell if it looks better or not. Perhaps all his fears are merely in his head. Which doesn't make him feel better, but it eases a phantom pain in his heart. ]

You don't look like much of a Frost Giant.

And you're the expert on that now, are you? [ Thor muses, looking down at his arms and chest at the new blue there, examining the color on his hands. ] You, who's spent so much time with them.

[ Aside from his sneaking over to Jotunheim to plot chaos on Thor's coronation and all that, Thor doubts he's ever walked through a village or talked to the Frost Giants at all beyond that. Half because they'd have punted him off the end of a glacier for it, likely. Point is, he's calling bullshit. ]

You're just jealous I make a better Frost Giant than you do.

[ Loki's laugh is incredulous. ]

Well, I'm not terribly surprised. You've beaten me in everything else.

[ His laugh is a beautiful thing, and Thor beams up at him, so pleased to have one it from him, after the panic he'd found him in, and hearing him talk about himself like Thor should be disgusted with him. He'd have someone magic him into a frost giant every day if it meant loki would feel more comfortable with himself. ]

Pfft. Hardly. I can swing a hammer. You can bend reality and wander from realm to realm at your will. [ which is a much more impressive talent, Thor would say. ] Half the things I've done I would've never managed without you.

[ his hands wander, trying to lace his fingers with Loki's. ]

[ He wavers briefly, which lets Thor thread their fingers together with no argument. It's not true and Loki knows it. All the things Thor has done; saving Jotunheim, defeating the Dark Elves, Hela . . . all of that was done under Thor's power. Thor isn't lie or trying to, but the lie chafes against his skin anyway. Compliments were heady, heavy things that cloud Loki's mind. He wants them, desires them, wants to feel them like a brand against his skin.

Rather than these markings.

But Loki says something else instead, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. His breath is like cool mountain air, crisp against the face. ]

You don't need to compliment me to keep me.

I'm just talking. [ Thor murmurs, in a lazy kind of contentment, angling up a pick to steal a short kiss from Loki. ] If you feel complimented by it, that's not my fault.

[ And really, it's the truth. Loki isn't like some foreign princess to charm, or some bar maid or warrior he's seeking to snag for himself. Loki is Loki, his brother, the other half of him, and he doesn't think anything he can really say is needed to keep him. Or, if he meant to leave, and idle compliments would convince him to stay. It's something else entirely. ]

Did you think I was lying when I said I'd thought the world of you?

No.

[ He shudders. ]

No, but . . . [ Loki can't articulate himself this time. That particular moment had not been easy for him. To watch Thor casually say that he mattered but their paths diverged. To know it was his own making. Loki used to be able to wring out every bit of emotion from his brother. He needed to know he mattered. ]

But, it bothered you that I agreed to going our separate ways?

[ he knows, because he knows his brother. He knows him saying that had a lot to do with loki following him back to asgard anyway. but it hadn't been said out of an attempt to trick him, or hurt him, or get his way.

Truly, Thor was at his end. He'd mourned and mourned, and fought and pulled at him, and it all just ruined them further. To him, it was time to just let his brother go. If he cared at all for Loki's happiness and health, he'd had to stop clinging to him, accept that the bond they had was dead. ]

What else could I have done? [ he asks, voice soft but serious, as his hands run along Loki's thighs are his sides. ] Beg you again? Force you home again? You grew apart from me and I was trying to drag you back. It was cruel. Your life is your own, you should have been allowed to do what you like with it long ago.

[ Loki shakes his head. ]

I don't fault you for it.

[ He moves to lie down next to Thor, a nuzzle at his neck. ]

I never thought you'd actually do it. I never believed you'd let me go.

[ Because Loki couldn't. He never could. ]

I didn't want to.

[ Thor murmurs, a small sadness in his voice, as he reaches up to run his hand through Loki's hair, brushing it back from his forehead, down the back of his neck. This is comfortable, seems familiar, to lay around in bed, cuddled up close and chatting over bits of life, of things between themselves, wonders and dreams and stories. all they're missing is the blanket pulled over their head and a book for Loki to read him stories from. ]

It took me years, mourning you twice, mourning our parents as well. I needed to stop getting in the way of your happiness. [ A smile pulls at his lips, sad but fond. He had to stop treating Loki like his wild, capricious little brother at some point. Let him live outside of the shade his overbearing cast on him. ] Perhaps I could've knocked you out and dragged you back home, tossed you in a dungeon just to make you stay put and out of trouble. But what good would it have done either of us? You'd escape, we'd fight, it'd all go back around.

Something had to give. I decided it would be me before you.

[ Sure, Thor's stubbornness is legendary, but most people who speak of it have never met his brother. ]

[ The truth effect is still honey on his tongue, syrupy-sweet. He can't fully force it down, though Loki can feel it waning, can feel his will straining against it with all his might. Loki burrows himself closer to Thor, feeling the warmth creep up his arm like goosebumps. Loki huffs against Thor's skin. ]

I cannot believe I am more stubborn than you.

[ pleased and comfortable with his brother's closeness, thor tucks an arm under Loki's neck, and hooks another around his waist to splay his hand at his back and tug him closer into his chest. ]

You are stubborn as a boar when you want to be. I have the knife scars to prove it.

[ Thor tells him, and Loki can likely feel the vibrations from his throat as he speaks, his check sat on top of Loki's hair. ]

You were a useful target.

[ But he lets out a faint yawn, used to the reverberations under him. They used to do this when they were children and even long past, during late nights and hunts. His eyelashes flutter, a thin line of forest green peeking out from under it. ]

And you never minded before. It's as if you knew you were protecting me from myself.

[ Thor stretches his back for a second, letting out a soft, barely there laugh, before relaxing into a position he plans to keep for a while, snuggled up to his brother, his body remembering it from hundreds and thousands of years with him. ]

Ah, it never hurt that much, and being angry enough to stab me meant you still cared, so. [ which is weirdly transparent, and Thor frowns for a moment, before moving on. he's never been particularly guarded anyway, so this confessions nonsense isn't as dramatic an effect with him. ]

How do you mean? [ protecting him from himself. though he's neither confirming or denying loki's guess. ]

Hating Asgard, father, you . . . [ Loki chuckles. ] It was so small, compared to the way I hated myself.

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