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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
]
You can do that? You're a total hair wizard, dude.
no subject
'Wizard' seems like an exaggeration, but yes, I can.
no subject
Alright, well, let's get this magic started then. The dye doesn't smell too strong, right? My nose is sensitive. Y'know, canine.
no subject
You got it! And no, it doesn't. [he reaches into the bag again, removing stacks of plastic bowls and laying them out around their legs.] Everything I got is ammonia-free, [reassures the blue boy as he begins opening boxes and squeezing the dye from the tubes.] I made sure to keep your nose in mind.
no subject
As if to test this truth, Rose gives a cautionary sniff. Hm. He's right, it hardly has a scent at all. One of the reasons she avoided hair salons, quite honestly, was because of strong scents the places contained. ]
That's sweet of you, dude. I'm excited to have my hair did, show off my new do. New me. [ A pause. ] Kind of feel like I need one, lately.
no subject
gloves aren't exactly a thing that work for him, so he dives in barehanded, motioning for rosie to turn. after she does, he starts with a crazy vibrant pink, head slightly tilted.] Has something else happened? Aside from your engagement, that is.
no subject
She does as instructed and turns away from him so he can work his dye-dipped hands into her hair. ]
Ah, well. My... maybe engagement now, I guess.
[ Woop, there it is. ]
no subject
just like he does when rosie mentions her possible engagement. what happened from before when they'd talked to now?]
Oh, no! What happened? [a beat.] If it's okay to ask.
no subject
I, uh- I kind of... kept some stuff from Vanyel. Some serious stuff that I, y'know, probably shouldn't have.
no subject
So, uhm, how serious are we talking about here? Again, only if you want to share. [he clamps down on the inside of his cheek, attention focused on her hair, fingers working briskly through the strands. at least the few colors he's already applied are coming together nicely?]
no subject
[ She does. Want to share, that is. Obviously. It isn't anything she's actually all that shy about. At least, not anymore. Not that the only person she was keeping it from knows. ]
There's... a war going on in my world. And we know how to stop it but it means me dying to do it. I'm okay with that. [ She's been okay with that for a while. ] I just knew Vanyel wouldn't be so I didn't tell him.
no subject
before he can ask "you're going to die?" rosie has already begun explaining the situation. not that it makes him any less uncomfortable about it, considering their friendship and how much he cares about her.]
Nobody would be okay with you dying, [he admits. himself included, of course, but he doesn't want to argue about that.] ... I'm sure you don't want to hear this, but I think you should tell him.
no subject
Mm, I'm gonna' have to disagree there.
[ She knows quite a few people that would be alright with her dying. Mostly, a bunch of dragons who are total dillholes. ] Yeah, I- I... I probably should, huh?
I just. I thought it would be better this way, honestly. I thought that maybe. Maybe if he didn't know, we'd get married and go our separate ways and maybe the ache of never seeing me again would somehow be less than just knowing I was gone.
no subject
[exactly, and dillholes don't get any say. he shakes his head, finishes dying one half of her head and moves effortlessly into starting the other side.]
As much as you might think that's better, imagine how he'd feel if he somehow stumbled upon your world and went searching, only to find out that you were killed. The heartbreak would be... indescribable.
no subject
Maybe. I guess it's... subjective on what would actually be worse or not. I don't know. I mean, I know it's a shitty thing to keep from him regardless but-
How do you tell someone you love that you're going to die?
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he crawls to a stop on rosie's hair, lips pursed and eyes becoming downcast.] I... don't have any proper advice to offer as I've never been in this situation. [telling someone you're going to die, that is.]
I can only assume how I'd react in that moment — and maybe I would do the total opposite then — but as your friend, I feel it's important that you tell him.
no subject
... Alright. I'll try to find a way to that's. Not going to be awful. Maybe there isn't, but I'm going to try.
no subject
Even though being upfront may be awful, that'd be better than nothing in the end.