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WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: An hour outside De Chima
WHEN: January 10-12
WHAT: imPorts are treated to a Swear-In that’s nothing but a weekend of relaxation at a brand new resort and spa!
WARNINGS: Possible mild nudity

It’s been a long few months, hasn’t it imPorts? Between the invading monsters (yikes!), evading the apocalypse (double yikes!) and then some fear toxin on behalf of your good pal Joker (triple yikes!), imPorts are overdue for a vacation. And wouldn’t you know it? One is coming right up.

Oh, yeah. It’s a Hot Springs Episode.

Welcome to Elysium Resort and Spa! When you come in, you’ll get a brochure with all of their offerings. They’re a little confused, perhaps, espousing relaxation ideals of every culture, clearly having just thrown all of their relaxation spaghetti at the wall to see if it sticks, but they’ve got the spirit! The smell of eucalyptus fills the air as you toe off your shoes and change into the slippers and robes that they have available for you as they usher you into what must be, for some, absolute paradise.

You can find rooms for all persuasions here, all purporting various health benefits. They have your typical fare - salt rooms, saunas, steam rooms, buckets of water with ladles resting in them to pour over the heaters to allow them to sizzle - but be warned! Some of these rooms climb up to ridiculous temperatures, leaving the bottoms of your feet red and toasty as you jump in (they suggest sandals, but who reads instructions anyway?), and other rooms are filled with ice as you’re plunged into what may as well be a walk-in freezer. Sometimes the doors are a little fiddly, though. Don’t worry - you won’t get trapped in here long enough for any real harm to come to you. But you might get a little uncomfortable as you rattle at the door, one of the employees eventually hurrying to let you out and offering their sincerest apologies, and won’t you have a gift certificate?

If those rooms aren’t enough for you, you can check out the baths. Salt baths, chilled baths, and hot tubs galore are here for imPorts, but that’s not all. Ever wanted to bathe in tea? In wine? Would you like to sink into a bath filled entirely with clay? How about getting all your dead skin chomped off by fish? It’s all here for you! Just try not to drink the bathwater - or, heavens, eat the fish. Those aren’t for you!

As imPorts stroll outside, they’ll see a beautiful vista overlooking the mountains, attached to a spacious hot springs (it’s natural, they claim, but who’s checking?) where imPorts can simply relax and enjoy the scenery. After that, why not pop inside to where some of the technicians will absolutely insist that you get a massage. Or a mani-pedi - yes, even you, big guy. Or, really, anything that your heart desires.

Once you’ve been poked and prodded and primped to your heart’s content (or discontent, as it may be), the spa open until the wee hours of the morning, it’s time to go and dine on some of the local cuisine, prepared fresh by the resort’s resident chef with a distinct eye to fresh, clean flavors and a truly ridiculous amount of salad. They want to make sure that you’re healthy inside and out, after all!

Before arriving at the spa, everyone was able to choose who they wanted to room with. But it seems that their systems got a bit scrambled during their grand opening, so you may find yourself bunking with a stranger instead. They’re deeply apologetic, of course, but it really would be easier for them if you’d just be nice for an evening and give it a shot. It’s only one evening, right? It’s not like you’ll be roomed with a serial killer. Probably. Given the imPort population there’s, what, a five percent chance?

The hotel rooms themselves are beautiful and spacious, each with a window looking out over the lovely view of the scenery below. It’s the perfect way to end your night… until 3 AM when an alarm begins to blare and all of the guests are ushered outside in the chilly winter air while firefighters come to check the place out. It’s a false alarm (some brat must have pulled it, the manager says apologetically, ready with more gift certificates), but hey, maybe this is a good chance to get to know your neighbors!

The next day, guests are free to take advantage of the resort’s facilities once more, or they can go hiking in the mountainous trails available to them, complete with regular rest stops with firepits, with the staff more than happy to pack lunchboxes and fixings for s’mores.

After they come back and have a thankfully uneventful night’s rest, buses will be ready to take them back to civilization, along with goodie bags filled with luxury goods and an earnest invitation to come back anytime! But maybe next time, wait a couple of months so they can iron out the kinks in their system.

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He looks like a monk, but not any of the orders that Declan is familiar with. He considers the question and the man asking it.

"Never know," he answers. "Maybe you like discussing the finer observations of foreign flora and fauna while you walk."

It is, maybe, a smartass answer; however, it's delivered like he's remarking on the weather. Declan notices the attention he's getting. He doesn't recognize this man in particular, but it doesn't mean they haven't met. And there is another distinct possibility, just as there always was if one knew more than one Lynch.

"I don't think so. But I have a brother."

There's no point in denying it. The family resemblance isn't very subtle.

If Stephen is amused, it doesn't fully show on his face and the best impression of humour is possibly reading a small twitch at the edge of his mouth as a potential smile.

But whatever Stephen might have to say about the potential for him enjoying a casual jaunt in the mountain air isn't offered. Instead, the corners of Stephen's eyes tighten in thought as he examines the younger man's face before his expression shifts to flat stare.

"Oh. Another Lynch. Excellent."

It's not a question or a request for clarification, just a statement of awareness. Just what Stephen needs on his mental and spiritual awareness, another--

Though, the more he looks at this second Lynch, something seems missing from what Stephen would expect. A lack. No, not a lack, a void, which is a very different matter. Curious.

"Interesting."

Gotta love that mystic talk for I have no idea what this is yet, but I want to know.

Interesting is never a word that anyone has applied to Declan Lynch. He doesn't like that this man, who said his family name so flatly, is the first. His expression doesn't shift much; he shrugs one shoulder.

"Is it? Irish Catholics are historically prolific."

But what has Ronan been up to? Or Kylo and Ronan. Jesus, he doesn't have nearly enough information to work with.

"What's interesting?"

Declan has heard the word interesting uttered about plenty of things not himself: paintings, a policy proposal, a PR move made by a Congressional opponent, Ronan, Matthew, Niall. Interesting could mean that someone is trying to say something vaguely intelligent about something they don't really understand; it could mean that they're disturbed and unwilling to use the word. All at once applied to abstract art or an insect pinned to a board.

He hates that word.

"Hm. Yeah, well, you'll forgive me if I opt for the safe route here is to say I'll take your word for it on the one hand and assume there's no such thing as coincidences on the other."

The world may have many a Lynch running around, but Stephen doubts they all necessarily have vaguely avian features and just happen to hang around imPort populated spaces.

It's an good question though, what is interesting, though in his role as dickhead wizard, cryptic is sort of the name of the game in many regards, especially with relative strangers.

Considering Declan closely with his tongue vaguely worrying the inside of his cheek, Stephen clicks his teeth with an abrupt intake of breath.

"So, you look like the older Lynch sibling. Commiserations. Not sure if you're old enough to legally drink, but there's places where that's all relative so remind me to pour something out for you sometime because I can only imagine."

"I just meant that another Lynch shouldn't be that much of a surprise."

Though it also wouldn't surprise him to learn that Ronan has never breathed a word of him, likely for reasons far outside of Declan's motivation for doing something similar.

"You've met my brother," he says as if that should explain what comes next. "Legal drinking age has never stopped us before." Well, it's stopped Matthew. But Matthew is better than both of them. Declan's education began the moment Niall hauled him out of Virginia. He pushes himself up from his perch.

"Do I get your name, since you apparently know my lineage?"

"And like I said, one wants to err on the side of caution with such things."

In fairness to Ronan, he and Stephen haven't had many opportunities for casual conversation, so no chance for either of them to mention siblings. Not that Stephen has any... As far as he knows.

"But yes, I have met your brother," he confirms, then extends a gloved hand, "And yes, you can. Dr. Stephen Strange. And I assume you have your own name and don't just go by Ronan's Older Brother."

Declan accepts the hand in a brief, firm shake. Textbook.

"Declan," he answers. Ronan has had far more creative epithets in the past. Dr. Strange has met Ronan, and he wonders. "Have you met Kylo Ren, as well?"

It's worth asking. He needs information and he'll start branching out further if he needs to.

Somehow, this is all precisely what Stephen would expect without expecting it. Declan Lynch is every kind of predictable expectation, someone who would blend in easily in a subway, somehow who would vanish at a dinner, someone who would be unremarkable in a lineup. What came first between him and Ronan to draw such stark lines between the two of them?

Stephen gives a slow blink. There certainly does seem to be a lot of interest in Kylo Ren when it comes to other members of the family. Quite a swift jump too.

"I have," he confirms. "Quite the pair, aren't they."

"They are."

Declan feels at an impasse. He could continue being blunt with a perfect stranger that just so happens to know his brother - and a lot of people seem to know Ronan - or he can just let it go.

"It seems I've missed quite a lot. It's strange to think that Ronan's been here for so long." That much is true. Declan still hits the occasional cognitive dissonance that happens when he tries to reconcile how recently he'd seen Ronan in their world and how much has happened here.

"Seems a bit... volatile."

Maybe Stephen doesn't know either of them well enough to say. But God, how could people here completely miss how dangerous that combination is? Declan's only seen it for the space of twenty or thirty minutes and it terrifies him how easily Ronan seems to have disappeared into another person.

"Ronan has certainly been here longer than I have. And evidently longer than you, also.

For Stephen's part in all of this, he's not on edge with his guardedness, rather he's perfectly at ease with it. It's not a gesture of I-know-something-you-don't-know in an overt sense, because there's a lot that Stephen knows that a lot of people don't also know. It comes with the territory, the so-called burden of knowledge that comes with just being a magical fucking smarty-pants. The Ancient One wore her knowledge with such poise and Stephen hasn't quite got the fit down in all situations yet. This one, though? He's perfectly relaxed with his knowledge. Zen, even. Maybe it's the effects of the spa.

"You're trying to tell me Ronan wasn't volatile back home? That he developed it in this world?"

Apparently, monks can wear skeptical faces.

"Of course he was."

And that's part of the problem. Ronan is volatile, Kylo is volatile, and together they're a cocktail waiting to explode. Declan doesn't know what all the triggers are, but he can see it. He doesn't need a monk side-eyeing him like he's insane, either.

Declan looks away, ostensibly for a better view.

"He's my brother," he says after a moment. "I'm worried about him and I don't think I'm wrong to be worried."

There, that's nice and familial, isn't it?

A slight frown forms on Stephen's face.

"Did I say you shouldn't be worried? Or that it would be wrong of you? You know him better than I do, that's for sure. I guess I'm saying the observation that he's volatile is like saying water is wet."

He glances skyward.

"But you're not worried about him, are you? Not directly, anyway. You're worried about what he is in combination. The volatile that's known isn't the issue."

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