EVENT: Kind Gestures and Dark Mirrors

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: While F.A.T.E.S. encourages kind gestures to repair the city's shield, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. sends their agent to sabotage everything with a virus. Infected characters turn into dark mirror versions of themselves, ready to burn the very bridges we were supposed to rebuild.
Date(s): 9 - 26 May. Check out THE MOD ANNOUNCEMENT for more information.
Warnings/Notes: Psychic influence, potential trauma, violence and upsetting themes. Please use subject header warnings appropriately!

KIND GESTURES & DARK MIRRORS EVENT

It's emotional warfare on a dimensional scale.

NOT SO/GRAND GESTURES

While the confessions might have helped some, hurt looks and uncomfortable silences abound across the city. The shield over the city has started to flicker and transmit odd, geometric shadows across the ground. One thing is clear: we have to fix this.

F.A.T.E.S. has a solution. On the morning of 9 May, F.A.T.E.S. will send a message to all residents through their daemons:

F.A.T.E.S. WARNING SYSTEM
Threat Assessment: Moderate
Phenomenon Type: Shield Fluctuations
Predicted Duration: 2 weeks to Critical Failure

The psychic bomb has crippled the defense system over Xistentia. As a result, the modified laws of physics that protect physical consent within the city limits are experiencing problems. Be aware that this means mild injury from physical assaults are now possible within the city.

To repair protective functions, residents are kindly requested to kiss and makeup. Just kissing would also be helpful. Friendly gestures varying from gifted coffee or morning salutations will also be extremely helpful contributions. Your cooperation is appreciated.

In other words, it's time to rebuild bridges. Residents are all encouraged to talk, to reach out to the people around them. Do something nice for a friend, or an acquaintance, or a stranger in need. Of course, if it feels a little forced— that should come as a surprise to no one. F.A.T.E.S. is but an awkward SUPERCOMPUTER, after all.

Good Samaritan: Help a little old lady across the street. Alternatively, given the consent defenses are dialed down, maybe you'll catch somebody about to be hit by a falling pot plant from a higher-floor window. Time to rescue!

Grand Romance: A single rose, a bouquet of flowers; their named tattooed over your heart, or a sword engraved with the insignias of one's ancestors; a boombox held outside the window or an acoustic guitar solo among the fireflies. If you love somebody, this is the time to let it out.

Family Dinner: Whether it's blood or a found family, this would be the time to reconcile over a spread. Or at least-- to try. Funnily enough, even conflict technically feeds energy into the city; a little bickering never killed anybody. But of course, if the argument kills the relationship... that's a turn for the worst, for the city as well as for you.

Apology Gifts: If you made a mess during the psychic bomb event, this would be the time to clean it up. Write a letter, send the text, or show up on the doorstep amid pouring rain.

Wildcard: Want to make a different gesture? Be F.A.T.E.S.' guest.

Enter the Villain

That doesn't really work for D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.


The enemy takes the opportunity to contact their agent Ignacio, giving him instructions to plug a data stick into the Chronological Cartographer in the Temple, in order to release a virus.

During the early hours of the morning on 9 May, Ignacio carries out his mission. The virus takes F.A.T.E.S. by surprise, crippling their internal defences and spreading quickly through their system. All computer systems managed by F.A.T.E.S. suffer disruption, including characters' daemons. All over the city, individuals experience change. The infected have turned into Mirror Versions of themselves. They remember everything about their lives, but their personalities and perspectives have changed. Instead of trying to rebuild, they want to tear down everything they once held dear.

DELETING THE VIRUS (May 26 +)

Over the course of the month, F.A.T.E.S. will be working desperately to clear the virus from their system and from every infected timeline. Daemons will continue to experience glitches, lag and crashes throughout the month.

Finally, by 26 May, F.A.T.E.S. manages to isolate the last pockets of the virus and stop it from replicating. From there, it's a simple matter to delete it from the rest of the system. Over the next few days, all afflicted individuals will return to normal.

Over the next few days, all afflicted individuals will return to normal - and then it's time to pick up the pieces.

Now feeling much more like themselves again, everyone who turned into a mirror will remember everything they did while infected. Now is the time for damage control - both for your personal lives, and for the city's defences. Xistentia is now more vulnerable than ever.

The deleting of the virus will mean a sudden and immediate change for some, and a slower, more gradual change for others. However, all characters will have returned entirely to normal by the end of the month.

ANYTHING ELSE

You can find more information on this event, as well as opportunities for plotting, in our Event Plotting Post!

Comments

kurt wagner [nightcrawler] ❧ ota (+ one closed prompt)

[shadowblends]

we don't deal with outsiders very well; (good samaritan)

[rebuilding bridges isn't a hard task for someone like kurt.

he's always been friendly, easy to please and ready to lend a hand where necessary, even if it means extending his reach to those he hasn't met yet. his first good intention is actually helping a small child rescue their alien puppy-- a large slobbering thing with two heads that thanks him by practically licking him to death.

an ear scratch for the dog and some affectionate headpats for the youngling then kurt sends them on their way, smiling wide while waving after the pair before heading off for more assistance.

perhaps, you're the second person he helps, reaching out for whomever's arm and pulling them out of the way just as a hovercraft goes zipping past.] Careful, [he warns, warm and genuine, lips quirked as he gestures down the road.] Just like everywhere else, no one watches where they're driving.

[or the third that he approaches, offering some extra limbs to help carry things you seem overflowing with.] Maybe I can give you a hand? [but also a tail, since he has the appendage and all.]

they say newcomers have a certain smell; (mirrored)

[overnight is when the change happens for him. he wakes as usual, rising from his bed and approaching the upright mirror a few feet away. for a long moment, nightcrawler stands there, examining his disheveled appearance and mussed hair before wrinkling his nose with disgust. this is what he's been okay with? yes, well, there are some changes coming, which start with his wardrobe and hair.

he steps out in all black, hair trimmed, slicked back on top of his head and entirely one color. no more fun, whimsical blue or anything that represents his past personality at all. his shoulders are rolled back, spine ramrod straight as he goes down the sidewalk, silently observing other people that have been affected by the change.

it's amusing in a way; the drastic difference that perky, uplifted people experience and vice-versa. he can't resist smirking, his mirth blatant with the expression at how things are dissolving around them.

he turns back around, side-stepping quickly to avoid brushing shoulders with someone he passes by.] Excuse you, [he snips irritably, eyes narrowing.] There's more than enough room to walk, so step back.

you have trust issues, not to mention; (closed to kavinsky)

[a picnic on the citadel is what they'd decided for a first date. how unfortunate that it's not the kurt kavinsky knows, though.

he waits atop the building, the edges of his feet teasing near the precipice as he paces back and forth across the narrow concrete bit. both hands tucked loosely into his pockets, his tail sways to and fro, crimson-colored eyes focusing on the sky above because it's not like he needs to watch where he's going when he can teleport somewhere safe should his balance waver. except, that isn't likely, considering his circus upbringing. there's little fear when one can walk a tightrope with a blindfold or swing from trapeze bars like nothing.

approaching footsteps catch his attention and he promptly pirouettes to face kavinsky, the chains of his outfit swinging out, loose curls tumbling across the right side of his face as he presents joseph with probably the most deranged looking smile he's ever seen on the blue boy.]

Hi, [he greets, teetering back and forth on his feet.] I'm surprised with you, Joseph. You aren't even that late.

they say they can smell your intentions; (damage control)

[kurt's never felt so ashamed in his life. there hasn't ever been a time where he'd treated people the way he had while under the influence of ... whatever had taken hold some time ago. he hates everything he's done, the way he acted toward people he cared about, how he cut down others that he didn't even know without a single care. hell, he's even unsure of what his mirror self has done to his self-image, leaving him in this twisted place of doubt and dissatisfaction with himself.

but most of all, he despises how he came off to a handful of xistentia's human residents. whatever he can do to apologize, he does it, then immediately goes back home, tucking himself away with his books, plants, cooking-- anything that's not interacting with someone he might have offended right now.

any visitors will be welcome, of course, though he'll be hesitant to answer the door, despite who comes knocking. (or not?)]

after all i've said, please don't forget; (wildcard)

[ooc: lay something of your own on me! plotting post here or you can hit me up on plurk at totalfruitcup!]

mirror

[sadico]

[ Ignacio knew how to avoid people as he walked, but he chose not to. The way he strode was done with purpose, confidence, and if someone decided to get in his way then the folly was on them.

It just so happened it was his shoulder that Kurt nearly ran into. Seeing a familiar face, Ignacio halted and a slow smirk spread on his lips at the boy's apparent newfound attitude. ]

Forgive me, [ he said in German, the tone of his voice playful. ] Should I bow when I obey you as well? [ He said that but he didn't do as he was told - he didn't step back. ]

rubs hands together ohhh boy

[shadowblends]

[well, this is certainly someone he hadn't been expecting to run into anytime soon, considering their last conversation. except, things are different now-- his attitude has done a complete one eighty because of the peculiar disruption.

at first, kurt's eyebrows raise with surprise, lips pursed in a tight line while he listens to ignacio speak his native tongue. then, those fangs bare, all smug and uppity as he settles both hands on his hips.]

I suppose I can forgive you, [the teleporter responds in kind.] But there is no reason for you to bow, Ignacio. [a challenge, perhaps? watch him rise to the occasion by grinning wider and squaring his shoulders.] Unless, that is what you prefer to do when in the presence of a fellow supernatural person.

speaking german without the italics bc screw extra formatting right?

[sadico]

[ His eyes briefly widened as Kurt continued to speak in a rather attractive manner. Ignacio didn't bow, but he nodded his head respectfully. ]

It is a pleasure to see you again. You appear to be in good spirits, and it suits you.

oh dude i can totally agree w that

[shadowblends]

[nightcrawler's smile widens, mirth becoming far more clear in response to ignacio's astonishment.

he inclines his head toward the vampire, nonetheless, showing him the full esteem kurt believes he deserves.] Likewise, my friend, and you're absolutely correct about that. [a beat.] It does suit me, though. I think I might even like myself better this way.

[sadico]

I liked you as you were, but I will say it is refreshing that you can meet my face without looking as though you might faint. [ He said, his tone teasing. ] Or preaching at me on behalf of destructive mortals, for that matter.

Care to join me for lunch? [ And Kurt might remember exactly what "lunch" was to the fangy one before him. ]

[shadowblends]

[ah, yes, he remembers their first meeting fondly. kurt gives a playful shake of his head at the teasing, raises a hand to cover his laugh then promptly straightens back up when ignacio says "mortals."] Humans, you mean? Silly creatures that do not even understand their own mortality.

Certainly, [he agrees without hesitation.] So long as you provide something I can use to [pause] recover afterward.

Mirrored

[bratpack]

[ Wyatt stops in his tracks, at first surprised to be told off, and the. All the more surprised that it's Kurt. His eyebrows shoot up as he takes in the mutant's new look. It's definitely different. Wyatt wouldn't say better, but he'd liked Kurt's messier look. It had matched his own. ]

Sorry, man. [ He saysc about the whole brushing shoulders thing that's apparently a fucking criminal act today. ] hey, nice look. I barely recognised you. What's the occasion, job interview?

[ Wyatt stuffs his hands into the frayed pockets of his jean shorts. He is at least wearing a t-shirt today, but it's too big for him, and features the occasional tear. ]

oh no wyatt ;;

[shadowblends]

[when he recognizes wyatt, his tone softens posthaste.] Oh, Wyatt! My apologies, I didn't know it was you. [he inclines his head, briefly shamed, although it doesn't last long. the werewolf mentions his new appearance and kurt grins, absolute charm with the slightest hint of vamp.]

No, nothing like that. [raising both arms, he does a quick spin on the ball of his foot, coattails falling gracefully back into place behind him.] Just seemed like I needed a change. This felt right and well, as you said, it's nice.

You look— [pause, his eyes scanning over the other male's frame, fangs baring in an appreciative grin.] Downright comfortable. As you should, though.

[bratpack]

[ Okay, what the hell is going on today? Wyatt stares at Kurt. Is this the same, shy mutant who’d danced with Wyatt at Halloween? Who’d flushed so brightly and obviously, who’d struggled to meet his eyes? He’s clearly in a fucking mood today. ]

Yeah, I look like I always do. It’s everything else that’s changed. [ Which, you know, would be dramatic and ridiculous coming from most teenagers. In Wyatt’s case, and in today’s case, it’s actually true. ]

So, what prompted the change? I liked your old look too, just FYI.

[shadowblends]

[a 'mood' would be a simple way to describe it. unfortunately, wyatt, this is not the same mutant that danced at the party and fumbled all over himself. this kurt has no problem puffing himself up, both hands settled at his waist, ruby-colored eyes focusing on his friend.]

Everything happened rather suddenly, didn't it? People you're closed to doing a complete one-eighty in personality would frighten me, too.

[he huffs at the mention of his old self, pouting and hanging his head like a kicked puppy.] It's about time I grew up. No more silly, childish things like colored hair and bright coats.

[bratpack]

[ Just like that, Wyatt can feel his spirits sinking. ]

Yeah. People doing a one-eighty, it's fucking crazy. Hey, you drink anything new lately, Kurt? Cause whatever it is, it seems like it missed me.

[ Being the one normal person around while everyone else is insane just isn't fun for anyone. He frowns. ]

Seriously, what was it? Someone giving out kool-aid? Vex says he didn't smoke anything bad, but I ain't buying it yet.

[shadowblends]

[oh, wyatt! if only he knew kurt's inner urge to scream "run while you can" at the top of his lungs.]

Mmn, no! I can't say that I have. [a beat.] Well, there was some excessively strong wine at the last party, but ... [that certainly wasn't a problem then or the day before, so he can't imagine there was anything wrong with it.

he thoughtfully taps his lips, unable to keep them from curving a modest amount.] Smoking, hm? It could have been something like that, yes, although I haven't smoked a day in my life or drank any kool-aid.

[ mirror ]

[dothelokimotion]

[ What. Loki stares at him. ]

Step back?

[ He even repeats it. Loki's not usually one to stumble over his words. ]

[shadowblends]

I'm rather sure that I was speaking plainly. [he narrows his eyes, skeptical in manner, yet his body language relaxes somewhat.]

Not that I mind rubbing elbows with a god, though.

[dothelokimotion]

[ He stares a little longer before shaking himself out of it. ]

And what would you want, from a God?

[shadowblends]

[the longer he stares, the wider kurt's grin becomes, until his fangs are entirely bared, amused and prideful.]

That depends. What does a god have to offer me?

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki's eyes narrow. ]

Gods do not offer gifts to mortals. No matter how special they might believe they are.

[shadowblends]

Quite the point you make, fair prince. [his smile broadens a touch more, eyes glittering.

since he hasn't forgotten, loki.]

meeeee

[pillz]

[maybe kavinsky was late because it's cool and he doesn't care.

or maybe he was late because he hasn't been on a date for a year, and when he went on a date before it was with a girl, which was-- different, somehow. more okay. maybe he's been thinking about how, despite that being with a girl is different from being with a boy, kurt is a lot like how bliss was. good, kind, brave, generous, diligent, thoughtful. better than he deserves. he does have an odd habit of going after people like that, you know. they're always out of his league, except that he's pretty hot.

it took him the whole week to plan out the fucking picnic basket, and in the end, there's as much alcohol in there as kebabs and chips. he'd done a lot of thinking about what he'd say if kurt laughed at him. that the pieces and the crumbs would fall on people and it'd be funny. it's not a big deal, he told himself. it's not a big fucking deal. it's not a

he stares at kurt. his face. then his exposed tummy, the chains sliding over his narrow chest. then his face again. the wind blows against kavinsky's vampire skin, but that isn't why goosebumps break out over his spine.]

What, [he says.] I'm-- sure. Cool. Cool outfit, man. What are you, studying the fucking BDSM now? [he keeps his voice light, putting the basket down.]

what kavinsky doesn't know: kurt's already a huge masochist apparently

[shadowblends]

[in his defense (or what little is left), kurt had been expecting to be stood up. not for the reason that that's what he's come to anticipate with kavinsky, but because the other male always seems to have a million things happening at once he'd imagine would be more important than a date.

and yet, the fledgling is here, handsome as ever with his pale tattooed skin, somewhat windblown dark hair and pretty eyes. basket in hand even, which surprises him, too. he knows vampires can't eat, so the sentiment is nice. for a brief moment, there's the slightest warmth, traveling through his torso, out to his fingertips and down to his toes-- an odd sensation he can't deny as being significant in some way. this, coupled with the way he's being ogled makes his lips curve with zeal.]

Well, I'd be lying if I said I haven't looked it up. [his discussion with vanyel had opened a lot of doors into that sort of lifestyle; curiosity simply got the best of him some time back and accompanied by his new personality? well, nothing was off the table anymore.

a hop and a skip and he's on the far more solid surface of the roof, approaching kavinsky, almost too suggestively. it's like dirty dancing-- all risqué, swinging movements in the places that matter until there's only an arms-length between them. he stands right there, hands tucked behind his back and his head slightly tilted.]

What's the matter? [the teleporter already knows the answer, but:] Don't you like it?

oh kurt oh also cw slut-shaming

[pillz]

[doesn't he like it? kavinsky's mouth goes dry, which seems physiologically improbable considering he's a member of the strutting undead. his mouth goes dry and his knees feel like he is going to sway, which is-- disconcerting, partly because the last person he felt that for disappeared out of this world, taking his chiseled abs and his own gothy death theme with him. kurt is different to aric in every conceivable way. slim where aric had been broad, warm where aric had been cool, open where aric had been reserved. but the feeling is the same.

it's terrifying. even without the clothes and the weird sass. kavinsky squints at the mutant, hasty to cover up his own discomfiture. it's fortunate that he's a good liar, but he wishes he had a mountain of cocaine to hide it under.]

Nothing. You look like a slut. [easy to turn it around into something mean, but maybe?? it softens it a little, that he steps up and pecks kurt on the mouth, a little gruff, but familiar, too.] Ain't a big deal, sweetheart. You want to sit down and eat your picnic food or you too busy flashing your twinky tits at the ground floor from all the way up here?

craughs uncontrollably i'm an awful person but also cw for the same thing sort of?

[shadowblends]

[oh, how unfortunate for kavinsky that mirror kurt is somehow more observant than his usual self. he doesn't need to see the reaction or experience whatever he's going through himself to know he has a certain affect on the dream thief, even if it's simply an influence of his dick at the time because that's a start. who knew what showing a little skin could get you? certainly not the fool before he came along.

smile widening in response to joseph's narrow-eyed look, he laughs airily, draws both hands around and turns his palms up, shoulders shrugging with nonchalance.] Sluts are easy, aren't they?

Seems right up your alley. [gosh, the old kurt would lose his mind at such a statement. good thing that square is nowhere to be found, particularly when kavinsky kisses him, terse and intimate in only a way the other brunet can be. he reaches around him for the basket, flips the top open, still grinning as he plucks up the nearest container of liquor.] Come now— no need to exacerbate things. Nobody's paying me any attention up here. [a beat. the bottle opens, crimson eyes smoldering as he levels him with a look.] Except you.

[pillz]

[kavinsky can't put his finger on it, what's different about kurt. or maybe he's just distracted by how many fingers and other limbs he wants to put on kurt. all over kurt. probably not just on, either, but that's something to be quietly inferred from the way his stare lingers-- uncertain but also wanting— on the mutant.

in the meantime, he sets up the picnic. a warm blanket thrown over cool stone; there's even one more apart from that one, just in case kurt wants a little cape, which kavinsky had clearly thought to bring along even without knowing that kurt's blue body would be getting rather more exposure than usual. he also picked up an electric light with a little heater, battery-operated, fake flames churning orange and rippling gold inside the cheesy, plastic flame-shaped top.

there's food, of course. cookies, cheese, but not so much cheese as to elicit gastrointestinal concerns— as previously established, this isn't kavinsky's first rodeo, after all. vegetables and ham in finger-sized bites. the kind of thing that kavinsky imagines that good boys like to eat, maybe-- even if they aren't dressed very much like a good boy anymore.

he almost drops the other beers, but that probably has nothing to do with the way kurt is looking at him. probably. some water, too.]

Come on. Tell me how shitty the food is I got for you. Most days I just used to eat candy, you know. Candy and cocaine. Breakfast of champions. Kind of feels like maybe that's what you had before coming up here. [kavinsky says it casually. fact is, he's hung out with enough people who were super extremely high that it is in fact, a fairly casual subject for him.]

[shadowblends]

[he knows kavinsky is staring. hell, even a blind man would be able to tell by this point, which is a notion that makes his eyes glitter mischievously.

while the other brunet sets up their picnic, kurt takes a tentative drink of the alcohol, swishes it between his cheeks so the burn lasts then swallows. he tips his head, moves closer to better examine everything joseph is setting out. oh no-- what a cute space-heater! some part of him (the better half) lets his expression soften, smile becoming more fond as he reaches his tail around and taps it with the spade. how thoughtful, blue thinks, although he'd never ponder using the blanket as a cape in this state of mind. (still, the idea is really damn adorable)

it should come as no surprise when the mutant reaches out and plucks up one of the cookies, turning it round in his hand before taking a bite. he chews, wrinkles his brow with contemplation.]

Mmn, but I can't lie and say these are terrible. [another bite, washed down by more booze.] No cocaine here. Why? [one treat down, he goes for vegetables this time, snaps the carrot in half, fingers rolling the uneaten piece.] Do you think it's something I should try? I'm curious how teleportation would be like that.

[but he's not high and there certainly isn't any 'snow' around that he knows of. his remaining snack goes then nightcrawler glances over the other food, coyly averting his gaze. he studies kavinsky, like he might be weighing his options.] And besides, who needs candy when you are right here? You're sweet enough with your charming little setup.