maskormenacelogs | (no subject)

WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: Jeopardy -> Heropa
WHEN: Nov. 19
WHAT: A resolution and a swear-in
WARNINGS: Please label threads

Somewhere, in a place that is and is not Jeopardy, time has passed. To some, it may have felt like mere hours; to others, days. For time doesn't truly touch this place. Only fate exists here, for imPorts to change or allow to proceed as it will.

Somewhere, the sisters look into the hearts of those with the power to decide the fate of this entire world and know their choice. A blinding light grows, forcing even the strongest to close their eyes, and as they do so, a vision of what could have happened appears in their minds. A world wreathed in flames, fire and screams echoing ceaselessly as they depart; a peaceful world, healed and whole and well—and a certainty that another world has paid a heavy price.

And then there's the sensation of three powerful forces leaving, two taking an unwilling third with them to wherever they are going. This world will be left as it is now, and its future will be whatever the people here make of it.

MEANWHILE, IN HEROPA

One week into the mysterious storm that has enveloped much of Jeopardy, citizens across the nation are losing hope. The government continues to monitor the situation at a safe distance, but cannot enter the affected part of the city, though one SEAL team did make an attempt, only to become lost in the wind for hours before emerging without ever making it through. While the storm hasn't grown, neither has it shown any sign of changing.

The heroes who bravely charged into the storm have not officially been given up for lost, but with no news coming from Jeopardy, few believe they will emerge unscathed. To honor their sacrifice (?) and offer sorrowful natives a means of coping, a candlelight vigil kicks off outside Heropa City Hall at 4:30 PM EST.

Speeches are given. Commemorative t-shirts are sold. It is at this point that a large portal of light opens up in front of the building and deposits all imPorts who entered the storm, as well as a confused but unharmed Layla and Sally Clapp. A stunned silence falls over the crowd — followed shortly by an eruption of cheers.

Organized chaos quickly reigns over the occasion. Medical personnel are quickly called in to aid any imPorts who might need it, and government officials quickly descend, one thing on their mind: what the heck happened, heroes?! ImPorts are asked to state, for the record, exactly what they experienced — which leaves a lot of room open for the more creative among them. Just what each imPorts is willing to confess to or lie about is up to them, but there are other imPorts at hand to refute or support all statements.

While imPorts are technically free to go, all are encouraged to enter the building for a debriefing with government officials. Those who care to share their story begin to paint a picture of what happened, and a flurry of transportation begins to move between City Hall and the local porter outpost, as Jeopardy will certainly require some aid now that it is fully accessible. Reports begin to filter back that while there have been some casualties and collateral damage to the city, it is far less of a disaster than the government anticipated during the storm, no doubt due to imPorts' efforts. Additionally, news from other porter cities begins to arrive; with the dissipation of the Jeopardy storm, all dimensional anomalies elsewhere have ceased.

Following the briefings, ImPorts may go home and get some rest, although they may have trouble shaking off the crowds — which are largely ecstatic that the people who apparently saved the world are in front of them.

While imPorts were occupied with the post-disaster debriefings, locals have used the time to launch an impromptu celebration of their defense of this world. Local restaurants, breweries and nanas have hustled their finest wares over, and free food and drink are flowing for the homecoming heroes. A local party & events organizing company has strung up some lights and tents in the park across the street from City Hall, lending a festive atmosphere to the area. T-shirts being sold to honor the assumed-fallen heroes have been 'edited' with permanent marker, going from 'FALLED HEROES' (there was an error in the print run, given the notice of less than a week) to 'RISEN HEROES' and are, regretfully, being given away for free.

For those who stay, an impromptu party breaks out, and the occasion quickly becomes the latest swear-in, albeit with a more casual emphasis on the actual swearing-in than usual; a card table is set up with the usual seals and documents, but it's a bit haphazard.

Along with tasty libations, local musicians start jamming on acoustic guitars in the park's gazebo, setting up some cheerful background music—or maybe you're not too tired to dance? A local physical therapy school has rolled in multiple portable massage tables, with free sessions for sore heroes!

The locals who haven't dispersed yet are also around, likely to seek autographs from the world savers, while podcasters, BlueTubers and regular nosy nellies might lean in with a recording device, asking for the real story of what happened. For imPorts who become too intoxicated or exhausted to porter home, many locals are offering couches to crash on — although the pillows they use may later show up on ePay.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Roland just shoots Rupert a look.]

Frankly, I can't picture you saving anyone but yourself.

Even hounds are loyal creatures, Crane, [ Rupert replies smoothly as he pours out an overly-generous measure for his dearly beloved housemate. ] Here, drink this and stop insulting me. I'm being exceptionally friendly, you know.

[Roland sighs heavily as he accepts his drink.]

Sorry. I... I'm just getting real sick of living through the apocalypse.

[And he'll drink to that.]

You do seem to be making a habit of it, yes. [ His words are amused but there's sympathy there too; Rupert sips at his own drink and considers Roland thoughtfully. ] But it's hardly as if you seek out these awful situations, is it? You are merely playing the hand that you have been dealt.

I know, but...

[There's a long pause as takes a drink far more than is perhaps socially acceptable.

I'm beginning to think fate is just mocking me now.

Perhaps. They do seem to have a terrible sense of humour.

[ He notes that, the overly thirsty gulp of alcohol. Roland is steeling himself, Rupert can tell. ]

Did they have anything to say to you while you were in there? The Fates, I mean.

I spent most of my time fighting those monsters at the power plant.

[Which is mostly the truth. There was one time he wandered too close to the church and followed the woman he thought needed his help. She decided to remind him once again of his failure to save his homeworld.]

You?

Me?

[ Oh, you know. Betrayed the OTO, travelled backwards and forwards in time, constructed a bomb, blew up a base, the usual. ]

Nothing of note. [ He shrugs idly, sipping at his drink. ] I enjoyed having the kitchen to myself, mostly. [ Rupert gives him an arch look, quickly adding: ] The kitchen is intact, by the way. Before you suggest anything catastrophic.

I'm more shocked you chose to cook.

Who said anything about cooking? [ Rupert retorts with a quick grin. ] I'm not that improved, Crane.

Then what, praytell, did you do to my kitchen?

[Yes, very deliberate use of "my", Rupert.]

[ Rupert spreads his hands in angelic protest. ]

What, would I break the dishwasher? [ Yes, he did. ] It's working perfectly now, I assure you. The engineer did a rather professional job.

[Roland takes another drink from his glass. He feels he's going to need it after his next question.]

If you weren't cooking, and you weren't cleaning... What happened to the dishwasher?

Oh, [ He waves a dismissive, nonchalant hand. ] It got in the way.