Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three.

[agogemod]

We do not merely destroy our enemies;

we change them.

WELCOME TO THE END OF TIME.

The Regency has its spies and its cloaks and daggers. You may have even brushed shoulders with one and not have known it. There is a place for such tactics. You are not in that place any longer.

On missions like these, the Regency prefers to keep its base close, in a intradimensional time pocket. You're apart from Gallipoli, no longer technically on Earth or in the 1910s. There are multiple segments to this complex base of Regency operations, but you can only really see two places...

THE BRIG

This is your holding cell, a constantly shifting room of indesctructable grey squares. It folds and bends to hold you and your seven companions as you await... something.

There are no guards in this place. There are no bars to look through, or sounds to listen for. You are simply in the box, left to your own devices.

Occasionally, holes will open in the ceiling, and packaged, processed rations will fall from them before immediately closing. This is the only way to measure time. There are always exactly eight bags, each with the name of one captive written on the side in their native language.

Holes will occasionally open in the walls, and they always bring with them a searingly bright light. Sleeping and sitting is difficult on the ever-shifting floors, and when you try, it always seems like a pinhole of light opens right on your eyes. Even leaning on the walls has mixed results.

DON'T GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT

The windows of light that open always stay very small, making it difficult to look through, and always pour radiantly bright, hot light. If you're feeling particularly self-punishing, you might be able to peek at an odd angle and see something of the world outside without being completely flashblinded. The world outside the Brig looks rather like the interior of a Dyson sphere. In the center, a great, bright, hot energy radiates out like a sun, and it reflects off the exterior globe the pocket dimension functions within, illuminating everything from every angle. The Brig floats around it in a slow orbit, as do many other similar looking box-rooms made of similar material, connected by constantly moving tubes and chutes. Some boxes have more chutes going toward them than others. No chutes connect to the Brig, unless someone is about to disappear into the floor...

Getting this view will be difficult, but not impossible; it will just take characters willing to blind themselves with an overabundance of light multiple times until they get the correct angle, allowing them to see outside for roughly a half second before the room shifts to redirect the light back into their eyes.

not so solitary confinement

Occasionally, the cube will split into smaller segments, throwing characters together with others at random in close confinement. This is unpredictable and fast, splitting you off from the whole for what feels like hours at a time, often with only one companion as the cube shifts and squirms around you.

technical malfunction

The power nullification is still in full effect. No magic or special abilities rule this place. Your only master are the walls, undulating with no discernible pattern, always moving.

The Regency has also attempted to break the BCE's translation capabilities, but due to the fact that COST-jailbroken BCEs work on a different system than Regency ones, this is an intermittent problem that occurs sporadically. (ie, have the translation capabilities blink in and out at your discretion.)

THE OTHER PLACE

And then, suddenly, the floor drops out from underneath you. The shifting walls make a hole perfectly your shape and size, and sucks you through. The hole closes neatly, immediately, and you slide along in a world of boxes pressing close to your skin as you are moved from one holding area to another.

When you emerge, you do so in total darkness. Power nullification is still in effect, but even if you can naturally see in the dark, it doesn't matter. All you can see is an endless blackness, and walking doesn't help. You can keep walking for however long; there is nothing to walk to. The floor is perfectly level, but you'll never reach a wall.

Finally, there's light in the distance. A spotlight from nowhere shines down on a person with the head of a jackal. Looking closer, you'll find it's some kind of highly technical mask. They are wearing armor that obscures their exact shape-- no skin shows, no hint of identity or personality, just the cold eyes of the mask. They turn to you, and speak in a voice clear and soothing, almost gentle.

"I am Kebechet. I have been looking forward to speaking with you."

NAV NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

iii

[lonelywar]

(ooc: we talked about this so im goin with it)

One of the few things he had learned about surviving in this prison was being successful in using your own body to block out the light, so that you could sleep. Ashitaka wasn't really sleeping when the transfer occurred; he had his back against one of the slowly-shifting walls, forehead resting on drawn-up knees, mostly conscious but in a form of half-rest.

And then the surroundings shift more than normal, angles warping and changing, inclines and declines appearing spontaneously in a way that in a single moment seals him off from the rest of the group in a way that was absolutely perfect. He can neither see nor hear any sign of them.

He does see and hear Noctis, however, as he shouts at the wall. But there's... something a little odd about it. For the most part he understands him—he's asking if he's alright, he's fairly certain—but most of it was through context and tone of voice. The words he was saying were odd. They sounded like something Ashitaka should be able to understand, but some of the verbage was off, inflections strange and bizarrely-paced.

After a short moment in which his expression is dominated by a puzzled look, he gives a slow nod. "Yes. You are unhurt as well?"

He speaks slowly, but let's just say to Noctis' ears, this will sound very antiquated. "One of those books you really hated your literature teacher for making you read" old, or perhaps a little worse.

yessss

[fessus]

There's no response from the rest of their compatriots. That part is anticipated, inasmuch as the changing circumstances aren't. Sure, he's accepted that all he can do here is try to expect the unexpected but what the hell kind of game is this? Are they really resorting to this just to rile them up and make them more uneasy?

"I'm--" Wait, what? It takes him a moment to consciously decipher what kind of dialect it is that he's hearing, actually recognizing fragments and piecing them together.

"Yeah... I'm okay."

[lonelywar]

This place makes even less sense to him than the place they had been kidnapped from, and that was saying quite a bit. He'd tried to catch a glimpse of the outside through the shifting gaps that opened between the bricks, though it was far too strange for him to make heads or tails of. They were well and truly out of their element, completely at the whims of their Regency captors.

Which meant occasionally being thrown into these smaller containment units, apparently. Ashitaka tries to take up as little room as he can, sitting cross-legged against one corner.

Noctis seems just as puzzled by his words as he had been a moment prior. Great. What was this, then?

What he says is easy enough to understand, so this time he simply nods. He turns his attention to the wall next to him, turning a bit and pressing a hand up against it. Pushing. Nothing. He sighs, shaking his head. He isn't sure what he expected, perhaps that this was different, that they could shove their way back. It is not the case.

"I suppose we must wait. There is little else we can do."

[fessus]

He adjusts his sitting position to better accommodate Ashitaka as well, one leg tucked beneath himself as he slots his shoulder in against the wall. It's uncomfortable but that's the least of their worries right now, becoming accustomed almost overnight to brutal conditions thanks to the war and right now a restful, easy experience would be the true outlier.

Noctis looks over at Ashitaka, mimicking the way he feels out the wall... but with the added force of a single blow, cursing under his breath when it does little more than make his own hand sore. Fuck.

"Yeah." After a longer pause devoted to ferreting out Ashitaka's meaning. "The way you talk... sorry, it's really old-fashioned. Old-fashioned." The words are repeated, slower, in what might come across as a patronizing if well-intentioned effort to be understood.

[lonelywar]

There experiences here and back in Gallipoli were night and day, so much so that he'd found it difficult to adjust from one terrible scenario to the next. Where before they had been dealing with filth, disease, constant threat of gunfire, and the constant sound of explosions and the cries of men, here there was none of that. No sound. No scene. Nothing. It was a torment of a very different nature, one where they were kept trapped not only with one another but with their minds, kept suspended and suspenseful as what might end up happening to them.

In a way being forced into such an uncomfortable situation as this was a break from the monotony, even if it was a very vexing one.

He watches Noctis slam his hand into the wall. No response, of course. Not that he'd really expected one.

He rests his head as best he can against the wall behind him, squinting as Noctis spoke, trying to pick out what he was sure of understanding and which pieces were either too quick or too vague to give him much meaning. He doesn't give any indication he was offended by Noctis being a little slower with them; if anything, it helped a bit.

"Old..."

Oh. Some clarity comes to his eyes. He knew that he was from the past of many others' worlds, a time many hundreds of years before they were even born. The way in which he spoke, then, was perhaps an antiquated manner of the same language. He hadn't thought Noctis was from the same place, though. How strange.

He taps at his collarbone, where the BCE was embedded in his skin. "They must be interfering with this." He speaks slowly as well, trying to use words as basic as he can while maintaining his meaning. "It changes our words so we can understand one another, yes?"

[fessus]

The monotony of war, of gunshots that he'd slowly become worryingly desensitized to and of bodies that he'd learned to step over without examining their faces, is still one that he finds preferable to this. This... nothingness. This waiting around while knowing their friends are still fighting and they can't do a goddamn thing about it. If he could just contact them and reassure them that he's okay, it'd be something.

Noctis's head knocks back against the wall as he looks over at Ashitaka, brow furrowed. It's clear he didn't get all of that but the gestures help. He points to his own BCE then, in return.

"Yeah. Broken, I think. When were you--" Hm, how to ask this. He tugs at his sleeve, revealing the tiny hole where a single sleeping dart had punctured him, then points to Ashitaka.

"When were you taken?"

[lonelywar]

What was worse still was that he knew what the Regency was capable of. He had seen what they had done to Xici back when they were still in France, destroying her in the past so that her physical body in the future was slowly degraded to nothingness, piece by piece. They had done that to a loyal soldier, one he didn't believe relinquished much information of use. She had simply been a loose end, when it came down to it. Was that not what they were, as well? How much did the Regency know about them, if they had been taken like this? Would they be subject to the same fate?

It is not that type of fate, or simply the finality of death, that bothers him. It is that he would have had no opportunity to make any further difference, here or back home, where he felt he was most desperately needed.

He thinks many of them might feel that way.

He nods, for the most part understanding what Noctis meant. It is bad news if the BCE was permanently tampered with. They relied on it so much - though considerably less, since they couldn't reach anyone here. Just one another, and they were usually all penned in the same room.

He's listening, though his attention is drawn to where Noctis points out what looks like a tiny puncture wound. Far too small to be an arrow, far too minor to be a gunshot. A dart?

Ah.

He looks sheepish, looking down. He then lifts a hand to rub at the back of his head, where he could still feel the welt left behind by whatever attacker got the better of him. "During our attack." He sighs, shaking his head as his hand falls to his lap. Speaking slowly: "I do not remember much. I think someone snuck up on me."

He looks up to Noctis, gesturing towards him. "You? When?" He vaguely remembered Noctis being part of their assault, before it'd gotten cut off.

[fessus]

Fingers rub at that minuscule injury, more irritated by the way it itches than anything else. There's no lingering pain or brain fog from the drug's effects, luckily, just the almost nonexistent physical discomfort and the emotions tied to allowing this to happen to himself. Is Ashitaka experiencing that same frustration?

Language barrier or not he feels like he could see it in his eyes if he looked hard enough.

"When?" This part gets through easily, at least. "For me? Ah...

I was fighting. Everyone went to speak with that Turkish guy. They were gone for a long time, but I was outside fighting alongside Hei." He adopts a sterner expression for a moment, mimicking the fellow COST agent. Perfect likeness.

"... He got hurt. He got hurt really badly. I picked him up and I was carrying him back to camp when it happened. I remember falling, then waking up here. I don't know if he's okay."

im so sorry, i lost this notif, feel free to ignore if this is too intense of a backtag!

[lonelywar]

To add to the injury of their capture and their questionable situation also the self-inflicted injury of anger at personal failure was a dangerous path. It was one Ashitaka typically sought to avoid, thinking that it would only lead to circuitous wandering rather than keen attention paid to the path leading to a possible solution. He had never wallowed in the reasons for his decisions back home, confronted with a curse that would, with time, claim his life. He found himself tempted to do so here, still not remembering how he had been convinced to join COST, doing countless things he did not understand in wars that were not his, just so they could preserve a vague idea of freedom in a distant future.

But in the end he does feel foolish. They had been fighting for something important, in the diplomatic mission to try to gain them peaceful retreat from this place, and he had allowed himself to be sneaked up upon. Though he knows neither himself nor Noctis can blame themselves fully, he can't help but feel the shard of discontent, knowing if he were a little more aware, such a thing might not have happened.

There is much in what Noctis says that he doesn't understand. Proper words, he picks out. "Turk" -- so it had been in the mission as well, though he hears him say Hei's name as well (though Noctis' miming of the other guy's severe demeanor elicited a small smile from Ashitaka, just for a moment); he knows he had not wanted to be diplomatic, so they were most likely fighting.

The rest of the specifics are difficult, vague. From tone and his expression, he can sense that something had gone wrong, and the way he ends his statement seems unsure. He isn't sure what happened in the end, because of the dart. He gives a solemn nod.

Without the reliable use of words, he decides to take a different avenue after a moment's thought, reaching out to clasp the other young man on the forearm. It was just for a moment, but it was a gesture of solidarity and understanding and what little comfort he could offer in a situation like this, before he retrieves his arm and once more retreats into his own space.

Even though it's a shot in the dark, he can't help but ask, "What do you think happened with the talks with the Turkish leader?" Noctis probably doesn't know much more than he does, but he wanted his opinion nonetheless.