Mingle ∞ Log
No Lifeguard on Duty
Summary
What's going on?
An
unexpected heat wave in mid-June, coupled with the cycling shutdown of all air conditioning units in motels across the Blocks, has made the summer unbearable. Meanwhile, the ever-eager
storm chaser,
Felix Bjurstrom, has uncovered a
fancy resort with a pool in a diffusion zone only 1 hour out from Panorama. Lucky, right? Well...kind of. It's got some quirks.
When is this happening?
June 10 - 30
What should I know?
- This area is one of many diffusion zones that appear throughout the planet.
- A storm chaser is someone dedicated to studying the cosmic phenomenon in the Diadem. Felix is a pioneer in his field.
- A winding highway filled with old empty barrels will take you to the zone.
- Characters can travel with a friend to save on gas! Parking's limited, so it might not be a bad idea.
- At any given time, there's max several dozen visitors. Most work long hours, some are traveling through the diffusion zones, and others prefer not to risk the drive or waste precious gas, so it won't draw a huge crowd (but there's still a crowd!).
- This is a mingle rather than an event. Plot-heavy elements will be minor. The game's first proper event will be posted in July!
What does my character know?
- Having lost his phone, Felix will spread the word using good old-fashioned printed posters that he's put up around Panorama. A young woman is seen helping him. They appear to be close. Some say that's his daughter.
- Though the timing is impossible to predict accurately, Felix believes that due to this zone's unusual proximity to an anchor point, it has a high chance of persisting for 2-3 weeks.
- Directions are printed on the posters, though characters are also free to stumble across the zone by accident.
∞ Links ∞
Introduction
The resort looks like your typical upscale vacation spot: a beautiful pool, lovely cabins, and plenty of pool chairs. The sky is
perpetually nighttime and there are
two moons. One moon is smaller than its sister and glows purple. The other looks like the Earth's moon. The weather is
pleasantly warm. In fact, conditions are almost
too perfect.
Other
fluxdrifts are here, too, and you might come across them, all of whom are taking advantage of the pool. They'll converse superficially with you and will come and go randomly. You'll want to keep a close eye on your belongings. Other than cooling off, this isn't a bad place to start making connections. Life in the Diadem is better when you've got allies if not friends.
Just outside the resort is a
spacious parking lot, designed for visitors. Nobody's following parking rules so put your car anywhere it fits. If you get blocked in, well, that's a problem for when you leave.
At the end of June, the diffusion zone will flicker and morph into an unremarkable overgrown park, long abandoned to the decades.
Prompts
As you wander around, you discover deactivated androids in many of the poolside huts. These androids cannot be mistaken for any organic species: their chassis is metal, and their heads are shiny. Circuits and wires are visible. But each is dressed distinctly human in a way that borders on disturbing. You spot lipstick drawn on some of the metal faces, as though they're playing dress up...or as if they don't realize they aren't human. One android is frozen in place with a diary clutched in its hands. Another has a hairbrush for its nonexistent hair.
Something seems to have destroyed them—perhaps a powerful EMP wave that knocked them all out. All except one.
The Bartender
The poolside bar is at the eastern end of the resort. There are plenty of seats. A few are occupied by deactivated androids. The bartender is also an android and appears to be the only functional one in this place. He speaks with a modulated voice and has a neutral accent. He exhibits the following behaviors if you sit at his bar:
- Icebreaker. Whether you're alone or with a companion, he'll try to get you all to be friends, asking random self-generated icebreaker questions. He'll be visibly disappointed if you don't play along.
- Bartending. While cheerful, he can't make the correct drink: it's always too strong, incredibly weak, added salt instead of sugar, messed up the ice. He's obviously doing his best, but it's just not working. The harder he tries, the worse he performs until it becomes a comedy of errors with stuff falling over, ice dumped in your lap, champagne corks flying, and any number of slapstick mishaps. You can help him out by mixing the drink yourself.
If you're nice to him, he'll introduce himself as Thomas Lustras. He's happy to
tell you about his son. Strange, you think, but who says androids can't have paternal instincts? Yet, when the android takes out his wallet to show you a photo of his son—named Edward Lustras—the picture is that of a
human child, roughly 5 years old, in the arms of his
human father.
The driver's license in the same wallet confirms that Thomas is (was?) a real person. The picture on the license matches the human male in the photo. A half-scorched business card states that Thomas was a consultant at Outer Rim Resettlements. Thomas believes he's on a company retreat and wistfully declares he's eager to return home to his son.
Maybe don't look too closely. After all, this place will soon disappear. And so will he.
The Grill
It's not a vacation without a grill! Not a grillable item is in sight, though, so you'll have to rely on what you can bring out of Panorama. Some of the visiting drifters will pitch in to share, unloading hotdogs (some synthetic, others authentic, and some far past expiry), burger patties (same) and buns, and "kebabs" made of blocky frozen vegetable squares. The squares vaguely resemble corn, mushrooms, and pineapple. The texture is passable, like a flavor-infused block of tofu.
Fire up the grill and take turns grilling. You'll also have to manage the propane. The grill's also prone to sputtering out, requiring regular minor repairs to get it back up and going. Any loose bolts or screws can be taken out of the dead androids to replace the rusty ones in the grill. You're unsure if you should feel uncomfortable doing that or what, but it is a solution.
Parking Woes
Like any crowded event, the parking lot can get chaotic, and the lawlessness of the diffusion zones doesn't help. While some are happy to help barbecue, others are more interested in picking fights over who got to the parking space first. It won't take much for a fistfight to break out, and a knife fight isn't out of the question, either, though nobody'll be killed (this time).
You can let the troublemakers beat each other, or you can try to intervene if somebody who doesn't deserve it is getting harassed. Just avoid causing too much of a scene. Breaking noses is acceptable; gutting someone head to toe is not. There are Enforcers visiting the zone, and if you interfere with their nice pool time, they won't hesitate to haul away everybody involved and make you sit in jail for a few days.
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diademlogs2025-06-08 10:11 am
no subject
The sound of glass shattering leaves her grimacing, old pain recently ripped back open spiking through her. She's less casual and easygoing when she looks over at the stranger's suggestion, conflicted grief ruining the mask she tries to wear in public. It's hard to be the calm and collected spy when the universe keeps trying to wear you down. ]
Yeah, good idea...
[ It's easy enough to move while the android is distracted, grabbing a bottle and clean glass before settling back on her chosen stool. The drink seems as safe as an anything else here, so she doesn't hesitate to take a long drink, downing a third of the glass before coming up for air. ]
no subject
He can also recognize when someone's a bit jumpy. His head cocks to the side. What, the broken tumbler? He pauses, files that away. She goes through her drink about as fast as he does when he's in the mood. Which, at the moment, he isn't—marked by the fact that he's drinking out of a glass proper and not taking swigs out of a bottle—but.
He's been there. ]
Long week?
no subject
Long year.
[ The weary clarification is provided as she refills her glass, emptying the bottle into it and then wrapping both hands around the base. She has to pace herself. Her tolerance isn't low enough for a single beer to affect her that much, but it all comes back to how she doesn't feel safe here. After being kidnapped and tortured by Nathaniel Malick, after having her power forcibly taken from her... She has to look out for herself. No one else will. ]
But you know, this place is really the cherry on top.
no subject
Or maybe it's something else.
He tips his glass toward her. Long fucking year. Cheers to that. ]
Yeah, it's— [ How's he put it. ] —not where I meant to be.
[ Hell, not where any of them meant to be. Could be worse. At least here, he isn't running and hiding. Rogue's safe. Safer than where she was. But he doesn't know what any of it means, either. What's happened to the world he left behind. If it's even there for anything to happen. ]
How long ago? [ He's bumped into plenty who've been around years. Which doesn't bode well for the rest of them. ]
no subject
Rubbing her thumbs over the glass, she traces the beads of water that form from the condensation accumulating on the glass. It's weird how these pockets form out here like this, little glimpses of... what exactly, she isn't sure, but there has to be some explanation behind it. Some reason. ]
A few weeks. [ She glances over her shoulder at the strangers still milling about despite the odd hour. ] I've been here long enough to run into people from home. They're just not my people.
[ Never in her life would she have guessed she'd be sad to run into an Avenger, but it's happened more than once now. ]
no subject
Well.
But even if she's not looking at him, he's looking at her. Few weeks. Same as him. Same as a lot of others, actually. Somebody smarter might have a theory about that. ]
Don't know if I wanted mine here.
[ It's a small confession. Sometimes, it's easier when he's alone. He wouldn't need to worry about them. That's what he tells himself, at least. Except he more often ends up not alone, and despite what he might try to say, that's usually by choice. ]
no subject
[ Now she knows that she isn't better off alone. When she's alone, she loses herself, and each time it gets harder to come back. Does she wish her family was trapped here with her? No. But also yes. If no one else, then at least Coulson. She'd only just gotten him back, and she will always believe they can get through anything together.
This stranger doesn't need to hear her sob story, though. No one does. So she latches on to the first line of thought that comes to mind, one that's kept her company through many sleepless nights since she arrived. ]
Do you think we're dead? [ She looks over to meet that watchful gaze, asking the question as nonchalantly as if she'd asked whether he thought it would rain that day. ] I'm pretty sure I died before I got here.
no subject
No. No, believe me, I'm alive.
[ It's his thing. Now, an illusion? Might be. Some kinda dream or hallucination. But even then, he remembers waking up. Remembers the flash of the sun, the faint notes of music before it all abruptly faded. Then he found himself in a rickety cot, robot staring down at him.
But it does leave him curious: what's got her believing she might be dead? The silent question sits in his gaze, though he doesn't ask out loud. She doesn't owe him an answer. ]
no subject
Yeah, he doesn't really need to ask the question for her to know what it is hanging there between them. She turns back to facing forward and lifts her glass to take another drink. ]
Well, I blew up a spaceship while I was still inside it, so. [ Her shoulders lift in a shrug. The reason for her theory should be obvious now. ]
no subject
She seems to know, though. Which makes her the first person to raise the question.
Though nothing says just because she might be dead, everybody else is, too. He's got no idea how any of this works. ]
Last I checked, I sank beneath the Potomac River, but— [ A short pause. Look, he could skirt around it. Something in him just can't be bothered. The way his mutation manifests, it comes out sooner or later. Kinda hard to pretend you didn't walk off a bullet to the head, and around these parts, somebody's always pulling a trigger somewhere. ] —I'm hard to kill. Doubt it took.
[ Now she's probably got questions, too. ]
no subject
When you say hard to kill...
[ Frowning slightly, she speaks slowly, as if testing the weight of each word on her tongue, to buy herself a few more seconds of time to decide just how to approach the topic. Except, in the end, she throws caution out the window because she's just too damn tired to care. ]
Do you mean you've got some spy-level skills to help you survive dicey situations, or is it more of a superpower sort of thing at work? [ Her answer would be all of the above, but she doubts there are many other people here who could say that. ]
no subject
Superpowers. Well, they're some kinda powers.
He could answer her using words. Or he could take the simpler option: he reaches over the counter for one of those martini olive toothpicks, opens up the palm of his hand, and cuts right down the centre. The skin splits, then closes. Didn't even spill a drop of blood.
Like he said. Hard to kill. Impossible, maybe. He's not sure. Logan doesn't go out of his way to test the limits of his healing factor (not anymore), but he's got plenty of enemies who are willing to do that in his stead.
So far, he's still here. ]
no subject
When Daisy finally looks away from his hand and to his face, there's something like hesitant hope in her expression. There's the slightest waver to her voice as she asks what feels like one of the most important questions of her life. ]
Are you Inhuman?
no subject
Maybe the flicker of promise on her face tells him all he needs to know. He's seen that look before on the kids that showed up at the Institute's doors for the first time. It's half the reason he stuck around in the end.
Inhuman. Pretty sure they've tossed that word around along with plenty of others. But that's not what she's asking. He studies her for another second, then hazards a guess: ]
That what you are?
no subject
Yes. [ A simple answer barely breathed into existence. ] Some people call me Quake.
[ She could leave it there, but she knows from experience that trust has to be earned, so she places one of hands on the surface of the bar, palm flat and fingers spread, and she reaches out with her powers. It's second nature to pick out the natural vibration of the materials within the bar, the wood and nails and glue, forcing the sum total of the construction to vibrate at a slightly higher frequency. She doesn't want to break it apart, though she easily could — the only effect is the structure shaking slightly, enough to be felt by everyone sitting there and visibly observed by the bottles and glasses scuttling across the surface like they might during a mild earthquake.
It only lasts a few seconds, long enough to be noticed but not draw undue attention given the precarious state of everything out here beyond the cities, and then it's over, everything returning back to what passes for normal here. She watches him carefully, trying to pick up on even the most subtle reaction. ]
no subject
Logan tilts his head. Now that's interesting. Quake, huh? Well, none of 'em were ever that creative with their call signs. She'd fit right in—though what she means by inhuman, he can't tell yet Reminds him of Kimiko. She's not the first person he's run into who seems to be a mutant but isn't quite. Or at least, isn't quite on their terms. He hasn't decided what to make of all that. If the little differences mean that much in the long run.
The other part of his mutation's not as easy to show. Not around here, anyway. He keeps it to himself for now. ]
Some people call me the Wolverine. But— [ He sets his glass back down. ] —Logan'll do.
[ He'll get around to what he is in a minute. ]
no subject
I'm Daisy.
[ It's an unassuming name that might bring to mind dainty girls in frilly dresses who giggle at every little thing. For her, it's a badge of the hard-won battle to discover her own true identity. She isn't Mary Sue Poots, unwanted orphan. She isn't Skye, damaged hacker turned spy. She's Daisy Johnson, daughter of Cal and Jiaying, Inhuman superhero and occasional Destroyer of Worlds. ]
no subject
Hell, he isn't sure. A responsibility? Protective? He doesn't know what it is, hasn't examined it too closely. What he does know is, where he's from, their numbers have dwindled day by day. Even if she isn't a mutant, she's close enough. She's close enough in that she'd be hunted down with the rest of them if she was from his world.
Maybe it's got to do with how she's looking at him, like he's holding something she's been searching for the entire time. ]
There's a few of us around. Mutants. [ He glances back at her. ] Guessing we're not that different.
no subject
You're probably right. That's one of the things they've called us, just not what we call ourselves.
[ That urge to run rises inside her, and she can feel her heart try to race as panic churns in her stomach, and she again makes a concerted effort to slow her pulse and breathing. There's no point in giving in to this; she's stuck here, alone, and that's just something she has to deal with, the same way she's dealt with all the other shitty things in her life. ]
no subject
You wanna tell me about it?
[ 'Cause, y'know, she can tell him to fuck off and that's fine. But she did bring it up first. Inhumans. Blowing up in a spaceship. The fact that she's not altogether sure if she's even alive.
So yeah. Maybe he's wrong, but he gets the feeling some part of her buried deep under there wants to talk. ]
no subject
She can't go through that again. ]
You don't need to hear my tragic backstory, Logan. If your world is anything like mine, you've probably got enough of your own shit to deal with.
[ And she doesn't need to send another person running because her shit is too much for them to handle. Wanting something and losing it hurts worse than never wanting anything at all, so it's easier to pick at the corner of the bottle's label with her nail than risk him seeing that she's a 31-year-old woman terrified of rejection and abandonment. ]
🎀 wrap?
[ But hey, he made his offer, which frankly, even the one time is a rarity for him. He's not gonna make it twice. He knows what it's like to wanna be left alone, and it doesn't take extra senses to tell when that's being broadcasted through every inch of a person.
Logan slides off his stool. ] I'm not hard to find.
[ If she changes her mind about any of it. He roams around the city enough that even big as it is, somebody somewhere will eventually point her his way. More specifically, she won't be hard for him to find now that he knows who she is. Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Some things, he's never too sure what he plans to do 'til he does it.
For now, unless she stops him, Logan simply leaves. ]