xistentia | FINAL EVENT: FAREWELL

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FINAL EVENT: FAREWELL

Characters: Ensemble cast!
Summary: The final event in Xistentia is necessarily one of farewells. Characters will be given a forum to decide where they go and with whom, or if they want to be part of the skeleton crew that stays. There is also a lantern festival, mingling Tanabata and the Chinese lantern festival.
Date(s): Month of July
Warnings/Notes: Feels, possibly sexual content, please warn in subject headers!

Farewell

a million billion trillion stars

The Battle Won

Late Sunday evening, a notice goes out across all the daemons. With critical blows struck against D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. during the prison world missions, F.A.T.E.S. is prepared to go into maintenance mode. That means only a skeleton crew of one hundred citizens needs to reside in Xistentia at any given time. The rest of the populace is free to return home. Or...

Destination Forum

Perhaps it's not your own home that you want to go back to.

Hence: the forums.

Public meetings take place at the Citadel, where larger groups and individuals can offer safe harbor for those looking for a fresh start and a new change. F.A.T.E.S. will offer each individual a change of powerset if they so wish to blend better into their new world. Though most of these decisions will be voluntary, a vote of all travelers following majority rules will determine significant changes likely to affect others, such as the nerfing of god-like individuals or weapons, or whether compulsively malicious individuals may be allowed into other worlds at all.

To enforce transparency in a discussion, a truth zone encompasses the gleaming tower, preventing anyone from telling a lie.

However, characters also have the option for private meetings— in which groups of travelers smaller than 5 individuals may be able to negotiate the terms of going to worlds outside the Citadel. This, you may do in whatever informal circumstances you like— from the privacy of a home to the local knockoff British pub. And if you aren't taking your friends home with you, perhaps too, it's time for your own personal good-byes.

D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. Lurks

As for D.E.S.T.I.N.Y., they seem to be gone. There's been radio silence ever since F.A.T.E.S. made their announcement. Any attempt by their Agents to contact them results in static - but not, strangely, in disconnection. It seems they aren't so much defeated as licking their wounds. Make no mistake, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. will be back. Agents, be ready; this isn't the last you'll hear from them.

Festival of Lights

Such occasion asks for more than logistics; we also have reason to celebrate.

In true Xistentia spirit, the festival that ensues is a mix of traditions from around the multiverse. It all kicks off with a spectacular fireworks show over the city, amid raucous sharing of alcoholic beverages and food aplenty.

From Japan, we have Tanabata, where characters are encouraged to write down their dearest wishes for the future on tags of colorful paper and then tie them to the forest trees. With a little luck, your character will get their heart's desire.

From Thailand, we have Yi Peng, where your characters will send ill feelings, grudges, regrets, and old mistakes up into the air in the form of paper lanterns. It is the tradition of letting go and welcoming in the new. Don't worry about the fire hazard— F.A.T.E.S. has you covered.

And Diwali from India signifies the coming of a new time, a transition. Candles lit and traditions such as decor and sweets represent the victory of light over darkness, good over evil, knowledge over ignorance, and hope over despair.

The Marriage of Vanyel Greyborn & Hanako "Rosie" Nurumi

It's probably a little more slapdash than most weddings people are used to. When the bride had never anticipated getting married and the groom is from a place and time before most wedding customs people are familiar with, maybe it's to be expected. But, just like them, it all seems to come together despite everything. It makes for a beautifully unique ceremony.

The flowers are a mix of Rosa rugosas and Dragon's Tongue. A pink and gold motif that's warm but elegant. It's set at night so that everyone they both care to be there can attend. While not a full moon, Rose's ears are out anyway beneath a veil of matching white lace. It was important to both of them that they marry each other true; that they loved every part of each other and symbolized it in some way on this day.

The vows they exchange are simple but heartfelt. They agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever. Rings are exchanged. It all goes according to plan, which is probably the multiverse giving this particular couple a break after everything else. And while the ceremony is all well and good, it's the reception that most people are likely looking forward to. Everyone is invited to attend this part of the two's union.

By Vanyel and Rose's standards, it's probably pretty tame. They host a giant feast in which most food was provided by the groom himself. The meat of choice is mutton, which just so happens to be the bride's favorite. It was also a show of being able to provide for their future life together. Meanwhile, the alcohol was supplied by the bride so everyone knows its quality. If it's enough to get a demon drunk, it's likely enough to get just about anyone drunk. Non-alcoholic and vampire friendly drinks are provided as well since they want to make sure everyone is accommodated and having a good time.

The reception lasts well into the night and rays of early morning light are creeping up on the horizon by the time its time to wrap things up. All in all, they'd call it a successful event and a high note to end hopefully many people's time in Xistentia on.

Footnotes

Please ensure that threads are marked with appropriate content warnings!
The original announcement with some other details is here.
You are loved. Farewell!

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[oh, well, that's certainly a gesture he wasn't expecting, but it's not an unwelcome one. kurt's hand closes around joseph's, squeezes gently, the unoccupied fingers drumming across his hip, an anxious sort of motion. almost like he can't keep still, which shouldn't be surprising, considering what they'll soon be discussing.

then here's this blue dweeb, who's never held anyone else's hand, teleportation aside. whatever happens next, as long as kavinsky doesn't let go, he's content. or some variation of, at least.]

Okay, [he responds, hoping it's the acceptance the fledgling needs. golden irises flicker down to their hands, his own squeezing a bit more firmly before he returns his attention, all prompt and wholeheartedly attentive.] Whatever you want to tell me, Joseph, I'll listen.

[kavinsky doesn't let go.

he thinks about it, of course. he thinks about springing his fingers open and backflipping off the edge of the building. he thinks about how painful it would be to land, how aggravated rafaello would be at this pointless test of vampire resilience, in part; and partly, how pointless it is that kavinsky would do this, that kavinsky always does this, finds something good, squeezes so tight it cracks in his hands, cuts his fingers to ribbons as he's destroying it, hurls it away, runs off screaming, his new weapon embedded in his own hands.

kavinsky tends to be a needlessly graphic person i guess.]

There was a couple times I was giving kids drugs and it killed them, [he says.] I killed them. Not everybody got my tolerance, I guess. But I didn't give a shit. Not really. I covered it up and did enough blow I could forget about it. And there was-- there was a guy. I was into him, but he wasn't into me. I thought he owed me some shit, 'cause I was cool at him, but then I really lost it. Went totally fucking postal, man. I kidnapped his brother, almost killed him.

[there's a long pause. at some point, he stopped looking kurt in the eye and started zeroing in on the pretty blue tip of his nose instead. but he forces himself-- just for an instant, to glance back up.]

I been a creep, man. And it was my choice, every fucking time. Over and over.

[an (obviously) uncomfortable silence hangs between them, punctuated only by kurt's sharp intake of breath.

people... died? because of drugs kavinsky had given them??? he'd kidnapped some former crush's(?) brother and almost killed him, too? this is a lot to take in-- more-so than he's used to, even, and yet—]

That's [pause, some brief contemplation because it's not okay, though—] in the past. We aren't the same people we were back then, right? I mean... [another beat. damn, this is more difficult to word than he thought.] You haven't tried killing anyone else lately? Given them drugs and had them overdose?

[kurt clutches the shorter boy's hand tighter, draws closer, the spade-tipped end of his tail flicking around and settling on kavinsky's hip.] Strange as it might sound, I've killed before, too. [to survive, but that's a detail he's fine leaving out.] That was my choice. I could have done something differently, maybe saved him, but— [meeting joseph's gaze seems strenuous, but he manages, reaches his unoccupied hand up to rifle through short gelled spikes. it's a saccharine gesture, diametrically different from the conversation they're having at the moment, although it's wholeheartedly kurt.]

I want to be with who you are now, [he acknowledges.] Not who you might've been.

But I'm, [kavinsky starts to say. he starts to say, but i'm the same.

and it's in that moment that the full realization dawns on him that he's not.

this isn't a brief moment of pique, of embarrassment that he's no longer cool, that he cries sometimes, that he has somewhat (kind of) learned to apologize, that he cares about people now, and therefore might expose himself to the frustration of insults or the helpless despair of falling short of their expectations. that sometimes he's brave enough to take acts of moderation, instead of extremes of attack or cowardice. even his attacks were cowardice, back in the day.

but people have made him better. in eudio, all the friends he made, the lovers he left, even the enemies who'd made particular marks. the ones he kept here, and the ones he found. he's done rafa proud. he's made use of the reflection that vex had held up to him. aric, caleb, bliss, rosie, they all taught him small lessons in gifting tenderness and measuring hope. heartbreak didn't make him weaker, where once he had believed it destroyed him entirely— which had been his excuse for destroying himself.]

Yeah, [he says, after a long time.] I don't do that shit anymore. I mean-- me too. I killed some people. But it was like, war and shit, you know. And it kind of sucked.

[there was a time he couldn't have admitted that. that war sucks. he was an unbelievable dbag. but he is slightly less d-y, as he squeezes kurt's fingers.]

Why'd you kill whoever you killed?

[there was a time he wouldn't have thought to ask kurt about himself, either. but apparently, that time is over.]

[kurt levels him with a wide-eyed stare, an eyebrow questioningly raised. he's expecting kavinsky to continue arguing, toss in some other things from long ago that don't really matter anymore, but the words never come.

it makes him wonder if he's overstepped any boundaries, pushed a little too hard, poked some sensitive spot he hasn't any clue about. the blue boy is real tempted to backpedal and fumble his way through an unnecessary apology, ends up second-guessing himself instead then regrets mentioning how he'd taken a life himself. although, it was only fair, right? they were sharing war stories, so it would've been unfair for him to expect kavinsky to spill his guts without giving something in return.]

Good, [comes the relieved answer.] War never changes, you know? People die, usually at the hands of someone else, and the scars it leaves behind are damaging in their own way.

[he inhales, sharp and pointed, clutching tighter to joseph's fingers with his one hand while the other moves to cup around his blue face. nobody's ever heard this story before; he hadn't even told rosie or wyatt or any of the other people he'd been able to call 'friends.']

We were stuck in a war of our own. [a beat, his tongue darting over his lips, some brief distraction to calm his anxiety.] It was either him or me and I chose to survive.

The plane went down with him still inside. Exploded upon impact. I didn't... couldn't save him. [another bout of silence then,] Angel was his name.

[kavinsky is embarrassed, almost. kind of. no, he is. the story that kurt shares speaks of someone who was put in an impossible situation, where he wanted to do the right thing, and would have if he'd been given an inch to act right. he's a good person.

you could have given kavinsky rehab-- or a mountain of cocaine, a handshake from obama, a solemn guarantee he'd never see his father again, and all the sweet ass he could want, and he still would have found a way to poison it. you don't understand, he almost says. it's not the same thing. for an instant, he wants to recoil and reject. but when his fingers tighten, there's nothing but kurt's own warm hand in his grip. and that's a good thing, probably. that these days, when he the urge to run, he ends up running for kurt.

but death is death, he tells himself; this mattered to kurt. this thing with angel-- it hurt him. kurt has regrets and a wish it had gone a different way. he mourns his friend. it's a mark he'll keep forever. and kavinsky lets the brittle edges of his heart stretch -- a little -- to fit around someone bigger than his skinny, meager self.]

If you wouldn'tve chose to fucking survive, I think maybe I wouldn't either, [kavinsky says, a little hoarsely, with feeling. he glances up kurt's dark blue face, steps nearer. his other arm braces tight around the lanky mutant's waist.]

You ever watch that movie, Trainspotting? [he asks.] 'Choose life.' Actually I think they knocked that off the fucking Bible. You believe in that, right?

[yeah, sure, maybe he doesn't understand in the same sense as kavinsky, but death is still just that: the loss of life. in this case, an unnecessary one they could've avoided.

he feels vulnerable all of a sudden. this was dumb, kurt tells himself, readying for the shorter boy to pull away and poke fun at him. something about how sharing his feelings is stupid and why would he do that when it's nothing like what they were talking about? his breath stutters, his heart free-falls into his belly and— somehow, during all of this, joseph hasn't moved away at all. heck, he's still even holding his hand.

the pent-up anxiety releases and he slackens beneath the weight, like a rubberband that's been stretched far past its original elasticity. his hand loosens, but only so he can retighten his fingers around his boyfriend's in an appreciative squeeze.]

Guess it's a good thing I did, then decided to continue help saving the world, huh? [is this what it's like to share total sincerity with someone? man, he could get real used to it. kurt meets kavinsky's gaze while letting himself be drawn closer by the arm around his middle, his own free limb resting across the fledgling's shoulders.]

"Trainspotting?" Can't say I've ever heard of it. I do, yeah, and it sounds like something that'd come from the scripture. [he tilts, pushes his lips up against kavinsky's cheek.] Maybe we could watch it together sometime.

I dunno, maybe it's too hardcore for those of us who wholesomely save the fucking world, [mumbles kavinsky, low in the cool, against kurt's shoulder.

it feels secretive. this feels secretive to him; that in this whole multiverse, there are people triumphing and losing, falling in love and out, suffering and seeking pleasure in epic proportions. but kavinsky feels like he just got away with something. no one else knows, but he's sure: he got the best one. who saves worlds and gives kindness in small doses across his days off, a little demons-shaped angel, that kavinsky is fairly certain will break his heart someday, too, or he'll be the one to fuck it up. and even that, he knows, will be something indescribable. a risk well taken.

he feels like he stole his prize. or even like he won it. he clutches kurt for a moment, greedy about the feel of him in his hands. feeling the funny mumble of the mutant warm his cold and crazy heart. it's been a long way, and there's more to go.

kavinsky takes a breath he doesn't need, and straightens again.]

Well, right now. You wanna get something to eat?

It's only a movie, Kavinsky. [they are still talking about trainspotting, yeah? he isn't sure anymore.

regardless of how their relationship turns out in the end, kurt is in it for the long haul. the only way the fledgling is getting rid of him now is either telling him to fuck off in whatever direction pleases him most or— well, sending him home would be an option, too, though that's not exactly what would be considered 'breaking it off,' unless those are the exact words used. they'll hurt each other along the way — intentionally or not — with heartache and other kinds of things, but they're young and one thing that happens when you're growing up: learning from your mistakes.

surprising though it may seem, the azure-skinned brunet feels like he's the one who won in this situation. someone like kavinsky choosing him when there are so many other people out there that are way better than him, people who will understand the little monster better and take him on those wild rides that he likes with his fast cars and uncontrolled drugs— and still, here they are, holding hands, relishing one another's warmth (or lack thereof).

which doesn't bother kurt in the slightest, keeping in mind how he doesn't hesitate to move closer, those pointy eyeteeth flashing in an amused smirk.]

I'd love to. And hey, maybe I'll even let you eat, too.

[that gets kavinsk'ys mouth in a little twist. wry, where once it probably would have been cruel. the baby vampire's eyes float over the edge of kurt's face. maybe i'll even let you eat. he takes a step back and he says,]

You're sweet.

[once, he would have been making fun; a remark to the taste of kurt's blood, or how squishy his personality is. but now he's just tugging kurt into step. drawing him back to the picnic that the mutant had set up. in retrospect, a different choice of words might have been appropriate; it's not like he's buying kurt dinner, after all. kurt made his own. it's the company he's bringing, and for once, it would serve him neither to behave as if this is his grand gift, bequeathed upon a lesser, or to spite it all.

he plunks the mutant down on the picnic blanket, by the heater. two tattooed hands on kurt's shoulders, and then he folds himself up, indian-style, beside the other boy. he starts to make kurt a sandwich, the knife deft in his hand, even though he quite possibly has never made a sandwich in his entire life. he builds kurt his layers. he talks about it, blithely; my fuckin' mom. like kindergarden. not that she ever made me a sandwich. you get sandwiches in your x-mansion?

silly things. silly stuff like that, while the night whistles coolly away.]

[and kurt counters the gesture with a sheepish shrug, the edges of his lips curving higher in response to kavinsky's compliment(?)]

It's no problem.

[he'd ordinarily say "thanks," but he has a feeling joseph knows his gratitude. that, and his focus is drawn to how he's being moved, following along as the shorter boy directs them back to their picnic. even if it may be so about him having to bring his own food, nightcrawler's expression brightens anyhow. the company he's being provided is sincerely what makes everything about this moment quintessential and he isn't going to take it for granted.

having an extremely cute guy make him sit then watching him plop down at his side and begin making a sandwich are all just huge bonuses, for real. he's mesmerized, too, by the way-- completely enthralled with how skillfully kavinsky uses the knife, despite his usual thoughts of the vampire hardly being able to boil water. (sorry, k.) the small talk is nice as well, comes pretty easily. things about how they get allowances at the x-mansion, so they can make whatever they like, although sandwiches seem high on the list.

it's— super casual? normal, if he's being honest, and it's perfect conversation that carries great alongside the breeze.]

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FINAL EVENT: FAREWELL

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i accidentally erased this tag originally so here is my rage cough regurgitation im sorry

that's okay bb <3 it's still lovely!! and i'm sorry this took forever orz

YOU'RE FINE. I WISH RL WAS BEING KINDER TO YOU.

WELL, IT'S GOTTEN A BIT BETTER, FWIW ¦D

GOOD D: except your grandparents now ig

IT'S COOL i don't have to deal with him again for another couple of weeks sooo

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heading toward a fade.

and the fade is good!