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

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.

[pillz]

[sweet. kurt called him that word and it is perhaps the first time that he's ever heard it out loud, barring maybe, if perhaps bliss had slipped it in mid-sentence here or there somewhere back in eudio, or caleb with a kindly mocking lilt to his voice. maybe kurt's making fun of him too. kavinsky's eyes cut toward the mutant to try and find familiar expressions on a subtly unfamiliar face.]

Hey.

[when you ain't winning, change the game. or possibly honk furiously, flip the bird, shoot a monster int he head afterward, if the game happens to be drag racing. with interpersonal shit though, kavinsky is ever too slick to let himself appear obviously defensive or inscure. instead, he reaches over and pulls kurt closer, tucking his tattooed hands into the lanky lines of kurt's waist, letting his smoke-scarred voice scrape gruffly.] C'mere. How come you don't blush no more? I can see in the dark. You can't fool me.

[shadowblends]

[maybe he's teasing (just a little), but his tone also sounds wholehearted. inhibition isn't high on kurt's priority list right now; he'd much rather continue slugging alcohol and eating snacks rather than explain the whole one-eighty in personality thing. unfortunate, considering kavinsky seems intent on finding out why he's different.

an eyebrow raises, contemplative as the dream thief draws him in, tucks neatly into the narrowness of his mid-section and drawls about something to do with his blush. or lack thereof, really.] Was I trying to fool you? Funny, I must not have noticed...

[he sighs, nonetheless, recaps the bottle and sets it aside, moving his arms to encircle the shorter boy's shoulders. so many excuses he can use and what he goes with is not all that far from the truth.] I woke up one morning and decided that I didn't like who I saw in the mirror. [kurt leans, eyes half-lidded, their foreheads bumping affectionately.] I'm sure you know plenty of ways to make my skin flush if you miss it that much.

[pillz]

[intuition, intuition. i guess the upside of being sober is that all your responses aren't buried under a mountain of cocaine and your judgment isn't totally addled by beer bubbles. kavinsky slides up his palm up the curve of kurt's waist, allowing his eyes to cross slightly to focus on the mutant's face.

he's thinking. thinking.

and then, abruptly, he yanks kurt close. a show of lightning-quick vampire strength, blink and you miss it, as neatly as a storm connects the ground to the sky with a jagged link of light. abruptly, he's tipped kurt backward, tango style. is lowering him down on the blanket, which turns out to be fluffy against his back.

kavinsky's on top of him, like a lion breathing against the neck of a wildebeest. all acid bright eyes and pointed fangs, the wind shifting the spikes of his hair.] You serious? [he asks, casual despite the intensity in his stare, pretending like he can't feel the heat wafting off the naked flat of kurt's tum tum.]

[shadowblends]

[kurt'd been perfectly content with their intimacy before, all wrapped up in one another and snuggled close. he's not opposed to the sudden change, but the astonishment that follows is another story.

an observant glance is spared toward kavinsky's hand, following along until he's pulled further in, breath hissing between his teeth out of surprise. somehow, he'd let this fledgling catch him off-guard, actually let himself get figuratively (maybe somewhat literally?) swept up and tipped backward. he lowers one arm then settles onto his elbow after the shorter brunet has eased them down, relaxing against the more solid surface, softened by the comforter that'd been laid out.

his fingers wrap around blanket and shirt, clutch tight as kavinsky pitches over him, equally dazzling eyes focused on the other boy's.] As a heart attack. [what an awful comparison. nightcrawler flicks his tail around, slinks the tiny point across kavinsky's spine then pouts.] Do you not believe me?

[pillz]

[there's a part of kavinsky that wants this very much. a not inconsiderable part. a huge part. you may colloquially refer to this part of him as 'a boner.' (which is huge.)

but he stares at kurt, and knows—- he knows. it's funny to joke about, whatever's happened to kurt, but in real life, getting your shit mind-controlled so you expose all your uncomfortable scars and are willing to spread them on a rooftop for a baby vampire is— going to make for an uncomfortable morning after, kavinsky's sure. or week after. however long this fuckery lasts. and at twenty two years old-- shit, is he twenty two now?— he's at that age and a place in his life when that's going to get in the way of his own morning-after. week-after.

he's old enough now, to be familiar with regret. being able to predict regret. wanting to, you know, maybe do shit that he won't regret.]

I didn't need a fucking mirror, [he says.] I liked who I saw.

[and with that, he leans forward-- smushes a coarse kiss onto the mutant's cheek. then pulls back, his shoes scraping.]

[shadowblends]

[and that's the part of joseph the clone was hoping to win over. this kurt could reach out, be super vulgar and grab kavinsky by the crotch, whisper something really dirty to make sure he'll hang around— except, something in the back of his mind urges against that, makes his hand hesitate near the dip of kavinsky's waist and tells him: no.

so, he stays, stunned into total silence and stillness for a brief moment, even after a kiss is messily dropped against his cheek.

before the dream thief can get too far away, kurt's hand finally snaps forward, catches him by his shoulder as he draws up enough to whisper beside his head:] Thank you. [for showing restraint, for knowing it wasn't him, for stopping him.

then he lets go and drops back onto the blanket, hands clasping tight over his belly, giving the vampire his chance to get further away.]

[pillz]

[there's the briefest pause, a backward glance, the shadow of a smile. he hadn't flinched when kurt reached over and touched him. there's nothing to be disgusted at. kavinsky's personality, his mind, has been hijacked by much worse than what kurt acts on now.]

Guess it says something pretty fucking a'ight, [he calls,] that looking out for me looks a lot like looking after you.

[the tip of his fang glints in moonlight. he hasn't cleaned up the picnic materials— which is merely irresponsible the way he always is. maybe he'll come back for it later, but it's less certain than the surety that he will come back for kurt, sooner than later.

and in a blink, he's gone.]

&end

[shadowblends]

[his own lips twitch upward, the faintest hint of a smile while he clutches his hands tighter and when he can't hold them there any longer, they grip the dainty chains spreading across his chest, twist tight like some bizarre form of restraint. at the very least, he can be grateful that his legs aren't trying to move, too.

an abrupt bark of laughter is the answer kurt gives, head shaking, vigorous enough that it musses his hair, tumbles the strands across his forehead. for a minute, he almost feels like himself, but almost won't cut it.] I'd say so!

[kurt isn't sure kavinsky heard him or not, what with his vampire senses, although he has a feeling the point was made and knows the other boy will come back. if not for him, then for all of the things he left behind.

until then, he lays stock-still on the blanket, hardly even flinches when his fuzzy-looking daemon comes up to lay across him. unbeknownst to him, she'll look totally different the next time he opens his eyes and is himself once more.]