THE AMAZING BASE.

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Welcome home, nerds.
WHEN? Outside time and space, in the aether between dimensions.
ANYTHING ELSE? There is also a fish. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.

MYSTERY FISH;

question the mystery fish

DEPARTING GALLIPOLI

The order comes the day after the Marie Antoinette sets sail:

PACK UP AND GET READY TO MOVE OUT. WE'VE DONE ALL WE CAN HERE.

DEPLOYMENT: BASE.

WE NEED TO RESTOCK. BE PREPARED FOR MORE TRANSFERS ON ARRIVAL.

STAY SAFE. TIME-STEP EXPECTED TO BEGIN WITHIN THE HOUR.

FOR THOSE OF YOU NEW TO COST: FIND A SECLUDED SPOT AND TRY NOT TO EAT ANYTHING BEFORE THE JUMP.

The Time-Step

The transfer begins like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, just a hum of sensation.

But the vibration spreads. Veteran COST soldiers often refer to this phenomenon as "the buzz". The feeling builds, not unlike standing near a great engine or the wind-rattled branches of a massive tree. There is a long moment of motion sickness and you can't be sure if the world is shaking you from the inside out or the outside in. It may be better to close your eyes against the growing nausea, as the world blurs out of focus.

A star shines in the distance. You may hear the faint rustling of leaves. Some swear they hear voices in this moment, indistinct words echoing off nothingness. Others say they feel a touch of the divine, that the eyes of the eternal look down upon you. Ancient bones rattle just out of earshot, cold and brittle and nothing more than the suggestion of sound. Or maybe it's only an illusion, brought on by the powerful technology grafted into your skin.

One thing is for sure: One moment you are here and the next you are not.

The shift takes you from whatever solitude you could find aboard the Marie Antoinette to the temperature-regulated hallway of what looks like a very poorly put together space station. Droids rush up and down the long hallway, fixing broken bits of machinery or just chattering with each other. A few crows sit on high ledges, looking down and watching. Someone mutters something about a centaur around the corner.

And you might just notice, provided you were in Gallipoli long enough to acquire stowaways, that the parasites lurking on your skin are mercifully gone.

For new arrivals who didn't experience Gallipoli: You, too, will appear in this long hallway, filled with droids and crows and humans (still filthy and clad in ANZAC uniforms, carrying battered equipment from the first World War). And you'll be wearing the minimal COST-issued athletic underwear and holding whatever one item you were allowed to bring. Surprise!

READ THE BASE INFOPAGE.

home away from home

Those who have been to BASE before may find a strangeness to it all: BASE seems...still. The windows show a verdant world instead of the usual aether (though with the typical paranoia), and the halls are bereft of all but a few crows. A man stands at the end of the long hallway you arrived in, waiting for you to get your bearings before he speaks.

Except, you know, he's not a man. He's a centaur.

"It's been barely a week since you left, by my reckoning. But for you, I'm sure, it's been much longer. Still, much has changed. You may have noticed we are...becalmed. This is due, it seems, to an error in our ways. We kept something that does not belong to us, several wild creatures that are meant to be free. They seem to have psychically called out to their home, and their home responded; we are now somewhat stranded.

"But let me explain—the Aether is the nexus between worlds and times, but it is not a dead thing. Creatures live in it. We have crashed onto the back of one such creature, a mighty beast, as large as a small country and entirely undiscovered. We have found why the creature has intercepted us: we have accidentally taken captive some of its children. Shapers, the wild creatures I mentioned, it seems they form a symbiotic bond with the creature, and live happily within its stomach."

He frowns, considering this.

"Shapers, I should mention, are creatures that briefly infested our fair BASE. The issue was dealt with, though we kept some for experimentation. The coelacanth took issue with this, it seems. It can speak, of course; we are stranded very near its head, and if you wish to ask it a question, I implore you to do so. The creature is older than creation—older than me—and only speaks once to any creature it encounters. It's said its wisdom brings kings to their knees."

His eyes crinkle in humor.

"My name is Chiron and I am the caretaker of this place, for those of you whom I have not had the pleasure of meeting. More importantly, I am a trainer and a teacher of some experience; if you wish training or schooling of any sort, do summon me. I will be happy to assist."

He's easy to contact, often found in the library, the training area, his capsule, or elsewhere in the station, attempting to fix what he understands and arguing with crows.

"We intended to spend this time exploring, for this is a rare opportunity to discover more of an entirely uncharted world. I hasten you to see if anything on the coelacanth can be of use, but be careful. Take only what you need, not what you may want. I intend to learn my lessons well; these creatures are not pets. Takes food, water, and any materials of use to us for our survival and perseverance, but no more. We task you with this: explore the coelacanth, and see what of it can be understood. Bring us back samples, but do try to interrupt the natural habitat as little as possible. We are guests here."

He bows and the action shows a slight limp in one of his back legs.

"I would join you, but I am far too old for such activities. Still, do pepper me with any questions you should encounter. I am always available on the network, or in person, within this hulking mass we call home."

And then he leaves you to find your capsules and rest.

CAPSULE ASSIGNMENTS

Once you've found your room and settled in—perhaps taken a shower, collected clothes, and eaten—a droid will approach you with camping equipment and give you a brief explanation of how to access and use the database. It's time to get your gear and go.

Of course, you can decline. You can stay and tend to the fort, maybe try and clean up this patchwork jumble of metal and machinery. But seeing the sights on the back of a giant fish flying through non-space? Who can say no to that?


the undiscovered country.

BASE's airlocks open into a lush valley, vibrant with color and rustling with life that has thrived on the coelacanth's back for millennia. It's a striking shift from the rot and gunfire of Gallipoli, unmarked by shrapnel, bombshells, and never-fresh air.

No, the air here is clean in a way that can leave you breathless, untouched by pollutants and stirred into a gentle breeze. It's a marked departure for anyone used to a more modern Earth or rough equivalent; letting the air sit on your tongue leaves a crisp, unsullied taste behind. And the whole forest feels alive, in a way that reminds you of how small you really are.

A white crow perches in a tree near BASE's exit, too high up to properly engage but a stark contrast to the bright leaves around her. She merely watches recruits come and go with a shrewd eye, feathers fluffed against the light chill. There are other crows scattered throughout the wilderness, some easier to find than others as they flit through the trees, sit on camping equipment, or hitch rides on the hoverbikes.

Besides those brief flashes of black feathers, however, you're left unsupervised.

Try not to fuck up anything too badly.

EXPLORE:INFOPAGE|DATABASE
talk to a fish | destruction report

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

base

[mylawn]

Is that a real question?

[76 debates not answering at all, but he's the only other person in the hallway (he takes a second to check), and this is a new arrival, which means he's not sure whether or not she's being facetious. He can't offer an actual casino, but in the interest of being helpful instead of snide, he can at least provide a suggestion.]

You might be able to dig up a deck of cards.

[dorzalta]

Did she? "I think it's you.

"I keep expecting the light," she admits, after his kisses. It's not something she wishes to speak of--any of it, really, these weren't things to re-live or reimagine by giving voice to them. Yet he was truthful with her, and he's correct in saying they need to be honest with each other.

She doesn't always have to be strong around him, does she?

The water shuts off and she's left standing in the stall with him, still pressed close, unwilling to step those meager inches back. The steam or her exhaustion--she's not sure which, maybe both, maybe none--lends itself to a dreamlike quality in the space. Even as water drips from the ends of her hair and her lashes, even as droplets slide down his chest.

She chases one of the droplets with her thumb, then brushes the uppermost scar with surer fingers. It's like the peaks and valleys of his muscle, but more textured. She traces each rise and dip of his abdomen, as if she's seeing him for the first time. And maybe she is, in some ways. There hasn't ever truly been a moment where she's merely touched him for the sake of it, to learn more of him. Most of those moments have melted into heavier touches and heated kisses. But right now, she maps his torso out until the first chill of the room invades the stall.

[prizeneck]

Sometimes. [A word with a bright big bow, golden letters of "Understatement of the Century Awards" shining.

The last time he had fought someone a bit seriously - before he even volunteered to join COST, it had been against a boxer. But Wau had been lean where 76 is wide, choosing footwork, over power stance. Uppercuts to his chin in between his arms, clutching his sword, instead of the reach over his range straight to his nose that 76 would probably attempt.

Or not. The problem with punching bags is that they work rhythm more than imagination. He can be wrong.

He snerks.] But just punching never works for me.

[northerndragon]

"The light won't be coming tonight. We'll keep it dark. We'll keep Ghost there to guard us. You can sleep for as long as you want to. I'll get you your coffee in the morning."

His tiredness is not the same as her exhaustion, but the cadence of his phrases lends his words the same dreamlike quality. He watches her as she traces the lines of his abdomen, the muscles hard-won from training and fighting; the line of his mouth sets, briefly, when she touches the scar over his heart. His hands rest on her upper arms.

He doesn't know what to say to her now. Maybe she's not fully convinced that he's real.

[dorzalta]

Or maybe she's not fully convinced any of this is real, and Kebechet's spun a far more compelling illusion. To wander down that train of thought, however, is dangerous and likely subject to making her go mad. What if the Regency was the reason so many in her line succumbed to the madness? "The flip of a coin," she mutters under her breath.

The tips of her fingers are chasing another water droplet down between his clavicles when she hums. His hands are on her upper arms, steadying. She looks up at him with a faint smile.

"I forgot we could have coffee again." Palms smooth up his chest, until her fingers curve around his shoulders. She's looking up at him now, blue eyes flicking over his features. "I know you would protect me, raqiarzy. Let's go to bed."

[northerndragon]

It's too close in this stall for him to have not caught what she said, but he doesn't respond to it, not sure that it was meant for his ears. Is that what she fears? It's not hard, when you're as drained of everything as she is, to feel like the world around you may be madness... he knows it himself, and he knows that old aphorism about her family. But he thinks she's only very tired.

After her fingers curve around his shoulders, he nods, firm and definite, then bends down in the cramped space to open the box and take her towel out. Handing it to her, he finds his own, then opens the door so there's room for each of them to dry off.

[dorzalta]

She's quick to step out of the shower stall, finding it to be too tight a space with him not there. A careless pat-down has her dry enough, so she wraps the towel around her and ducks back into the stall to retrieve her oversized shirt. She's half a mind to use it as a second towel for her hair, but decides against it; just because she's no issue with nakedness doesn't mean Jon feels the same.

When the shirt's pulled over her head, she pats her hair down, and will do so as they make their way back to his bed. Whoever was in the shower room with them is gone now. Just as well. The halls seem to be abandoned as well as they make their way through, and she wonders if most of their comrades have decided sleep is a far wiser option.

How can any of them sleep, she wonders, twining her hair into a haphazard single braid. It would be dealt with in the morning.

[doublejumps]

[ The hug isn't exactly unexpected, and Genji is quick to return it, his arms wrapping tight around Angela, his hands spreading out over her back. He can feel her ease up with relief. A text conversation is one thing, but seeing him in person clearly has an effect on her. It isn't easy, to be the one waiting for those in a dangerous situation to come back.

When she steps away, Genji still can't stop himself from smiling at her. He squeezes her hands with his, not as overwhelmed with the contact as he might have been in the past. ]

You're going to give me a tour? I look forward to it.

[ He nods to her, indicating that she should feel free to lead the way. ]

[northerndragon]

It would have been better if they had been able to bathe the way they would have at home, he decides. He's no maidservant, but he would have helped her into a tub or a hot pool, would have poured a basin of water over her hair, and she wouldn't have had to be on her feet.

They would be asleep by now if it hadn't been for the mask. He's not sure why it will be useful, or how, or why it had been so difficult to take off to begin with. It must have been easy to put on. And if it was hard for her to take off, it must also be hard for the troops it was designed for.

What does that say about the Regency?

Nothing good. Nothing he hasn't already begun to suspect. Why do their people fight for them? Xici had been an enthusiastic recruit, not a reluctant and forced one, though there must be ways of forcing any of them. But if the punishment for failure is as bad as not trying at all... what makes them do it?

He walks alongside her in the corridor, watches her braid her hair as they walk, and it's not long before they're back at his room, where he's left Ghost. The direwolf stands and sniffs him as he comes into the room.

"It's just soap, boy."

If Dany hadn't wanted to kiss him with bits of chicken in his beard, she definitely isn't going to want to sleep under a blanket befouled by those same bits. He moves to the wardrobe, first, and examines the pile of furs on the floor.

"I'm going to put these on the bed," he says to her, taking the blanket and shaking it out over Ghost's head.

[cutlery]

So indeed. The challenge is why I find it curious, though as you say, not quite enough to follow the path to where those questions could take me. It seems it would be... unsatisfying, I think would be the best way to describe it.

[ Sebastian nods agreeably at the tent, since it looks good to him, and in short order, he's standing as well. ]

And this is yours, by the way. I do not need to rest, but it is certainly easier to put it all together with two people.

[ His generosity probably seems like a contrast against her own comment, but in reality, he's very quietly expressing the same sentiment. He's a creature of pure self-interest, though it can get abstract enough to not seem like it... ]

I am surprised you would call it such. What would your intent be, then?

[dorzalta]

There's a number of furs left for him. They look as soft as the furs lining his cloak had, and they must be warm. Heavy, as well?

As Jon reaches for the first, she extends her fingers toward Ghost, allowing the direwolf to sniff if he wishes. She'll await the creature's acceptance before reaching over to lift another fur, her intent to help clear, even if she's slugging and likely a hindrance when it comes to the speediness of it. One fur is enough, right now, to make her wish she were beneath it and asleep.

When the task is completed, she perches upon the edge of Jon's bed. The hem of her shirt rides up her thighs, exposing her legs to the light chill of the room. "Did you have furs up at the Wall?"

He obviously did at Winterfell. These are his, aren't they?

[inconstantly]

[When Dorian gestures to the bedroom John grins widely, exposing his teeth.] Cheeky devil.

[He gives the other man's shoulder a squeeze before walking briskly into the room. It was far more fun to explore someone's personal space than a shared area. Those places were more often than not sanitized to become more palatable to another's taste. John preferred to see someone's raw nature, particularly if it was one just as filled with blemish as his own.

He truly does have no problem with escalation as he immediately walks around the room, taking into account various belongings and the manner in which they are arranged.]

Both food and wine, yes.

[But the voice is distracted as John is drawn toward the glow. He can almost feel its energy, as if something in the room changes just by its presence.]

I know better than to touch a man's staff without his permission. May I?

[northerndragon]

"Furs? I did, because I brought them. Some men didn't. Some men up from King's Landing came with nothing and could only use what the Watch had for them. They'd be cold for weeks, day and night, until they found something better. If a man died, other men would claim his things."

It strikes him then that she doesn't remember him holding her hand in the furs on his bed in his ship near Eastwatch.

He tosses the befouled blanket onto the floor -- they can clean it up tomorrow -- and helps her spread the furs over the bed.

"What did you sleep under in Essos?"

[OOC: There were some blanket-related crossed wires that are uncrossed in this tag.]

[inconstantly]

[The low quality of the sound only serves to enhance the experience. John is reminded of nights back in Newcastle before everything turned to shit. He and Gary and Ritchie would lie on their backs, smoking a cigarette or something stronger as they stared at the ceiling and allowed the music to wash over them. Sometimes they'd forget to relax, legs kicking in the air or arms punching an invisible foe. It was a time both long gone and ever present.

As he listens John closes his eyes for the full experience, allowing the speakers to blast the sound against him at top volume. He doesn't flinch, but a slow smile creeps across his face. It was good to feel a new discovery, and something so raw at that.]

I like the congas. Wouldn't have expected something like that.

[His friends aren't here, and neither are the copious supplies of drugs in which they used to partake, but he does have plenty of alcohol. When the song ends John rises to unpack something secured in the hoverbike. He remains standing to match height with present company, holding the bottle between them.]

It's gin. Not that synthetic shit from around here. But men of taste should stick together, yeah?

[inconstantly]

No. Not while I'm concentrating and have got the fire on. Without that well, you could cook me like a Christmas dinner.

[He cocks his head to the side, mischief makes its way across his face.]

You're not planning to kill me, are you?

[dorzalta]

Did they claim Jon's things when he'd died? Did Jon take them back if they had?

"Quilts in Meereen. The fabrics were soft... made me want to press my face against it." There's that hint of a smile again, as she smoothes the furs. But it slips away moments later. "Furs with the Dothraki. Nothing quite as nice as these. Did you ever mention missing them or wanting them? I wonder how they know what to bring you from home."

pretend he DID put a shirt on after the shower, I just neglected to write it

[northerndragon]

"No. Maybe it just turns up and they know it's yours. I missed Ghost... I've been missing him for months, long before I'd ever heard of COST."

He hadn't expected that she'd take his ship away from him.

"You can press your face against these." He smiles at her sleepily, takes off the shirt he'd put on after the shower. "I was cold sometimes in Paris, and at Gallipoli, but I can't remember ever bringing them up."

[cutlery]

[ The Kelpie at least seems to understand that the pair isn't going to do anything at this point. Since Sebastian is still keep a careful distance, it instead turns back to Chiron to shuffle closer. It won't leave the water fully, since it probably wouldn't like to, but it'll certainly push towards the bank. ]

Well, I have heard of something similar on Earth, though it is hardly the same thing... Or I would not think so.

[ He hums thoughtfully as he thinks of an example, but settles for the simplest. ]

A great flood, for example. There are civilizations so far flung from each other that it would make no sense for them to interact heavily. And yet many of them all tell tales of a great flood as a part of their histories. There are commonly shared beliefs, even if that commonality would seem like a strange coincidence. [ He shrugs ] ...Not that this is a matter of belief, clearly, but it is what comes to mind.

[cutlery]

[ Now that is a surprise. Sebastian knows that he's the anomaly, since most of the people he's met are from at least a few centuries ahead of his time. But true eons is quite surprising, and he doesn't bother to hide the look of great surprise. ]

My goodness— That is farther ahead than I expected.

[ And a bit surprising, if he's honest. Humanity moves at such a quick pace that the idea of them even surviving that long is surprising. He was certain they would have managed to cause their own extinction by then. ]

I would be quite interested in trading, yes. [ A pause, as he considers it, but his curiosity is genuine, so he adds: ] In fact, I may be able to offer quite a bit about the time before it as well. I have an interest in history, so I know a fair deal.

[reillumination]

[ "Primary functions," huh? Well, all things considered, it seemed like he could add that to the list of questions he'd later have to ask once they were out of the deer's path. Humans, too, had some primary functions, but they were self-determined outside of bodily necessity. Ryo has to wonder if this was something the other had picked or – if he was inorganic as he'd said – it was something he was aligned to.

That prospect, by itself, was discomforting to think too much on. And so, it is only with a small and considering pause that Ryo types back: ]

I'll follow after you then.

[ Better that way. Ryo isn't too keen on giving his back to anyone. But more, if scouting was something this individual was used to – he'd be able to scale it more readily than he would. ]

[bivariant]

"Unsatisfying" is a fine way to describe the feeling. [ For some, perhaps. For her, it might as well be heresy to seek answers outside of the Hexarchate's doctrine. ] Dangerous, as well. Who among us might prove to have a hunger for knowledge that outpaces their caution?

[ She miiiiiiiight be fishing, as she turns her attention from him for a moment to focus on the tent -- definitely surprised! What is this about not needing to rest!! The way her shoulders relax suggests she's visibly grateful for the aid, if this is how it plays out. ]

I wish I was superhuman and didn't need to rest -- do you mean to be awake all night, then?

[ Oh, @SHITZU, you strange man. ]

When you offer someone something, make sure what you get out of it is greater in number or better in quality. It's helpful to lend someone your aid. It's a calculation, to lend the correct someone your aid. I'd strike a deal with the person asking the question I feel is best, of course. Wouldn't anyone?

[chipouttaluck]

[If Surely's been taught table manners, she's forgotten them by now. She's just chowing down, and maybe she remembers not to talk with her mouth full if you're lucky.]

If it beats BlamCo, I'll take it.

[chipouttaluck]

[Uh oh, here comes trouble. Looks like one of those NCR lifers to her, the kind of soldier who's been around the block so many times he's forgotten where the corners are.]

Uh... yeah? [Surely's too stubborn to get awkward about all this.] There a reason we don't have a casino?

[The cards seem promising, though.]

Can't be too hard to get digging. You know how to play Caravan?

[thingpuncher]

The robot whirs, beeps, and slowly rights itself. Midnighter tells it to repeat response twelve, to which it replies, "you're. An asshole."

Midnighter looks over his shoulder at Hei. "It's mocking me. That's not harm? I'm hurt, Hei. There I thought you were such an emotional and caring guy." It's obvious sarcasm; Midnighter has promised himself not to praise Hei anymore.

[thingpuncher]

"When there's so much to live for?" Midnighter laughs, a coarse sound in the back of his throat. He keeps walking, kicking clumps of plantlife and debris out of the way. "You done this kinda salvage before? Real authority going for you, there."