agogelogs | THE AMAZING BASE.

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THE AMAZING BASE.

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Food was consumed the moment Dany opened her eyes and could breathe. She'd nearly been ill with how quickly she drank water, her stomach twisting into knots after three hearty gulps that drained her bottle dry. It didn't matter then, didn't matter that her hands shook, nor that Jon saw her in these weak moments.

She follows him to his capsule, because she's no desire to meet a new roommate. Whatever the reason, their dwellings have changed. Likely she would not see Prelati. She'd not seen the girl in Gallipoli, which made her wonder just what had happened to her.

"What's wrong?" she asks him, only noticing he looks back at her. There's something like surprise which appears shortly after he glances back at her. Something which has her fighting back the heaviness of exhaustion and tensing behind him, quickening her steps to follow. "Jon?"

With another glance over his shoulder, he shakes his head. Nothing is wrong. In fact, he hopes --

He opens the door.

Most of the bed is taken up by a huge quantity of white fur. It's a wolf, much larger than any normal wolf, with a half-eaten chicken held steady between its big front paws. It lifts its head when it hears the door open, and then stands and jumps to the floor, momentarily abandoning the chicken. Its eyes glint deep red in the low light.

At the same time, Jon's face breaks into a wide smile, and he crouches near the foot of the bed, arms out.

"Ghost!"

A moment later, the direwolf is licking his face.

Witnessing such a large wolf on Jon's bed is enough to freeze her in the doorway. It's massive. Far larger than any dog she's seen, however rare a sight they might've been in her travels.

She stares, her heart kicking into a frantic beat, drumming in her ears and throat when the creature moves--

--but there is no ill intent, for Jon's reaching for the--Ghost, Ghost. He's reaching for Ghost, and the animal is licking her lover's face. With the mouth that'd just been consuming a chicken corpse. She eyes the chicken left on Jon's bed, wondering what state Jon's face will be in.

More than that, however, she's pleased to see him reunited with his companion. So she watches, not stepping into the bedroom space because she knows that however content Ghost is with its human, that did not always extend to the human's guests.

Besides, this was a moment meant for the two of them to share.

Jon's mood is, suddenly, about as good as it ever is. For the moment, he casts aside the worries of the past few days: what the mask had done to Dany, Robb's disappearance, all the fighting with the Anubian Regency troops. He'd had his own small wounds patched up while the mask was taken off of her, and there's nothing to be done for Robb right now.

He'd left Ghost at Winterfell when he made for Dragonstone with Davos and some men-at-arms. A ship on the sea for a moon's worth of days is no place for a direwolf: that much had been plain. But he also hadn't expected to be gone for so long. They'd been separated for months once in the past, when he'd climbed the Wall with Ygritte, so long that he thought he'd lost his friend to the wilderness. This time, they've been apart for most of a year.

His fingers curl in the thick, soft white fur, and he smiles and rubs behind the wolf's ears, not minding the chicken grease getting on his face.

"I missed you, boy." Then, "Someone for you to meet."

But he notices that Daenerys is hanging back, so he turns his head to look up at her.

"Come in." He's all encouragement. "I didn't think you'd get to see each other so soon."

The more she watches and listens, the softer her expression becomes. A wistfulness settles about her by the time Jon speaks to Ghost. She's intruding. This isn't the sort of reunion an onlooker should be around for. Not after everything Jon's been through thus far.

She's just turning away when Jon looks up and coaxes her closer. Closer, to meet Ghost. A wolf whose fur is as white as the snow she'd seen in Gallipoli, and eyes bright red. Haunting, and yet... not. This is no beast, but a wild thing just as much as her own children are.

"You don't want a moment longer?" she asks, more out of polite respect than any real hesitation. Truthfully, this little bit of wildness is a vivid reminder of their world. And any connection to their world... She steps into his room, cramped as it is, and crouches down near Jon. Not as close to the wolf, for she has no intention of invading its space. Still, that doesn't stop her from lifting a hand, eerily similar to the way Jon had to Drogon on the cliffs of Dragonstone.

He catches her soft expression when he looks at her, and he reaches for her hand with his free one.

"No. You'll have to get used to each other."

Ghost, for his part, breaks from pawing joyously at Jon to sniff the air in Daenerys's direction with wary interest.

"Now Ghost, this is Daenerys. You'll be seeing a lot of her."

Jon doesn't have to tell the direwolf how he feels about Daenerys, or that she's a friend, or much of anything. He raised and trained Ghost himself, yet he's not sure that it's his words that are understood so much as his intent, his heart. He can't control Ghost, but he's always influenced him; the direwolf seems to know better than even Jon does who his enemies are, who his friends are, who Jon would want to protect.

He isn't worried when Ghost moves closer to Daenerys and sniffs near her hip, her belly, higher -- and indeed, Ghost shows no aggression, only curiosity and less wariness than he had a moment earlier.

"Plenty of time for that." The idea of them getting used to each other is so bizarre a thing to hear him say to her, she can't help but snort. His hand is warm and strong in hers, grounding just as it had been whilst they'd been with Chiron for an hour, who was meticulous in the way he'd disassembled the mask.

The introductions nearly make her laugh. He'd been expressive with her at times, but this is an entirely new facet to him.

When a large snout begins sniffing at her, she's still watching Jon, the corners of her eyes crinkled in faint amusement. But soon, her focus is snapping to Ghost, when a snout is bumping her chest, the light chuffs and sniffs growing louder the higher his head rises. Warily, cautiously, she lifts her free hand to lightly drag her palm along the scruff of his neck.

"Is this how large direwolves grow?"

His eyes narrow a little when she begins to pet Ghost: maybe not a good idea with an adult male wolf of any kind, let alone a direwolf. Even if there's not much to be concerned about, there's still that first time, that first encounter.

He wonders if, the way he can sometimes feel Ghost's hunger, Ghost can somehow feel Jon's affection for people. He's been gentle and protective with Sam, with Sansa. Her pup Lady had been killed so long ago, but she had been Ghost's sister just as Sansa is Jon's.

It wasn't a good idea for him to stroke the snout of a live dragon, either, but there had been inevitability in it... then wonder. He feels pleasure in how unafraid Dany is -- cautious, but unafraid -- and in how gently she approaches his old friend.

"I don't know. I've only seen one other grown direwolf, years ago: I think it was my brother Bran's. It attacked a group of Wildlings not far south of the Wall. Ghost was the runt of the litter, but he's big enough now."

That's an understatement. Ghost's presence leaves no corner of the room untouched. He doesn't shrink under Daenerys's hand, or become docile, but he accepts her careful offer of friendship without any kind of complaint.

Edited 2018-03-18 03:40 (UTC)

She expects no docility, and trusts in Jon not to steer her into clear danger. That trust is rewarded when Ghost accepts her tentative touch, one which grows a touch more confident as she drags her fingers through his fur. It's strange to touch something so large and with so much fur; Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion were much larger, yet their skin was leathery.

"Hello," she murmurs to Ghost. "You're very much not a runt."

It's silly to speak to an animal, but they do have an intelligence to them, be it her dragons, or Jon's direwolf. And this simple connection to their home seems to ease some of the tension she's held since her return from capture. She doesn't notice it, of course, but it seems easier to take a breath.

"He's beautiful," she says to Jon. Still watching Ghost, for it would be stupid to turn her attention away from a wild animal. "I can see why you left him in Winterfell. I don't know how he would react to my dragons."

"I left him in Winterfell because... well, to begin with, I didn't take long to prepare for the journey, and I couldn't think of how he'd handle it, or how we'd feed him. I'm not sure how we'll feed him here. He can eat salt beef now and then, but he'd rather hunt."

He curls his fingers in Ghost's coat, gently rubbing the direwolf's neck, then pulls his hand away with a final soft pat.

"And I didn't know you then, but I did know the impression a wolf this size would make." It might have been dangerous for Ghost, too. Direwolves aren't easy to kill, but Grey Wind had been killed all the same. If Daenerys had seen Ghost as a threat, or had seen Jon as more of a problem than she initially did, something that bringing a large wild animal onto her island or into her audience chamber could easily have made worse, things could have gone even more badly than they already had at that first meeting, and in the weeks thereafter.

She considers the direwolf, so very large and intimidating with his red eyes. Now, she pets him--briefly, soon dropping her hand away to give the creature his space, for she knows not even her dragons enjoy being smothered in attention lest they actively seek it out. But back when she'd first summoned Jon?

"It's much warmer than the North, as well. I can't imagine he's used to the climate?" Wiping her hands, she considers the small space. A mirror image of her own bedroom. It's nearly swallowed by a sea of white fur. "As for feeding him, we've an entire world at our disposal outside."

There must be something the wolf can hunt.

"He's here now. They gave you Ghost for a reason." What would the King in the North require his direwolf for? She can't imagine how such a large animal would blend into any environment they travel to. "We'll figure out how to keep him happy and fed."

"That depends on what's in this world. There can't be much that would cow a direwolf, though."

The things he can think of that could cow a direwolf, or at least stand up to one, are too meaningful to both of them for him to want to list them.

"They can't mean for him to stay in here. If I had the other room, it might be possible, but in this one... he'll want to be in here now and then, no more than that. I'll speak to Chiron about it."

Greeting accomplished, Ghost turns back to the bed and pulls the chicken he'd been eating down to the floor.

"They gave him a chicken. Didn't give us a chicken."

She hums in answer, not as concerned about the wildlife on this world. There would be dangers, as in any place. She's too tired to discuss the point.

"I wonder who shares the space with you now. Not Henry, I imagine." No more coffee mornings with the man, or surprise visits from Arthur. They'd become somewhat like a strange, dysfunctional unit the last time on Base. "Might've seen him by now."

The chicken flops onto the floor with a dull, near sickening thud. She gives the corpse one long, lingering look before turning her focus to Jon.

"They must like him more."

It's a joke, right? But she says it so deadpan, it's hard to tell.

He looks at her, a long, flat look, then breaks into a soft chuckle.

"He's probably less trouble than us.

"I think you're right about the roommate. If it were Henry, there would have been no need to move us about. Not sure there was one anyway. Whoever it is, I hope they're quiet enough." With a glance over at Ghost, he adds, "And I hope they can keep their wits about them."

That makes her smirk. "If they wished for people less troublesome, I imagine they wouldn't have chosen us."

She can admit to it. Separately, they've reason enough to cause those in charge headaches. Together? They are rather formidable a force. Certainly not one she'd wish to stand up against.

Only belatedly does it dawn upon her that she doesn't wear the lion mask. She'll blame it on a foggy mind, sleep deprived, but for now, she's walking those few steps between them to slip her arms around his middle and to press her face into his chest.

The hug is meant to be a simple thing, but the longer she holds him close, the more her eyes and nose start to burn.

There's something about the way she's hugging him... tight and lingering, not just a simple embrace, not just affection.

His arms go around her, and he holds her head against his chest with the palm of his hand.

"It's all right." His voice is hushed. "We don't have to go back there."

It's not even that she fears going back. Gallipoli in and of itself was miserable, far worse than the rainy days of France, or the deserts of Jerusalem. Even being kidnapped was bearable in a way she cannot describe, for there was not the constant booms of violence, the fretting of fleeing into tunnels and wondering if she would ever see sunlight again.

She doesn't know how to tell him any of this. She, who can usually voice so very many things.

But now that they're back in Base, in a private place that feels too claustrophobic and safe all at once...

"They didn't let us sleep," she mumbles against his chest. "The rooms always shifted, light shined in our eyes if we nodded off."

If they didn't let her sleep, that means she hasn't slept in days -- not more than a few hours here and there. He shifts his embrace so that he's not only holding her close, he's also holding her up, if she wants.

"I killed as many of the ones in wolf masks as I could."

Firing on the Turks: he hadn't enjoyed that. Hadn't enjoyed being party to taking out men at their base, either -- ordinary sentries just doing their jobs. But after Daenerys's abduction and return, and Jon's conversation with Kebechet, there had been some mild satisfaction to fighting the Regency troops. The outcome, in the long term, might be good, might be bad, he doesn't know. But it was like he'd been told: someone's children were a threat to the Regency, and the Regency had tried to keep them from ever being born.

"You need to eat and sleep. We'll stay here for a few days, until you have your strength back."

Something like this had happened to him before, when he made his way back to Castle Black as fast as he could with three arrows in him. She's not wounded like that, but even so, it will take more than an afternoon for her to recover.

It speaks to the fact that she finally feels safe enough in here that she's able to mention those intricate details. Not the interrogation or the illusions, but of the day to day moments. Not all of them, either, for speaking of it means reliving it, and much like very many other things she's lived through, she's no desire to look back. It's a start, though.

"A shower, first." When she lifts her head, her face and eyes are dry, albeit, tired. "You've chicken bits in your beard, and I feel as if bugs still crawl all over me."

She doesn't argue about resting for a few days. The thought of adventure out on the creature they've crashed upon sounds even more exhausting. Suffice it to say, she's had enough adventure for a time.

"You saw the others?" The other captives. "I only saw Ashitaka and Noctis."

"I don't know who was or wasn't a captive. Those two, because they were taken from Mal Tepe when I was with them." He didn't do enough to stop them from being taken, not if they were snatched from under his nose like that, and his tone makes the sentiment clear. "But not the others."

After a beat, he pulls back from her a little. "Chicken bits in my beard?" Frowning, he begins to wipe at his beard with the palm of his hand. "All right. We'll leave this one here, for now, and make for the showers."

Where are his things? In the wardrobe, probably, and the trunks. He doesn't move towards them yet, because his arm is still around her.

"That's what you get for a kiss hello." This time, the tease comes a bit more willingly, less deadpan. "You don't think he'll try to eat a crow if we leave him to himself, do you?"

The question's forgotten when they move on to the subject of captives.

They didn't know who was taken? That makes her frown. "Mordred was with me. Rey was with Noctis. Kylo was with Ashitaka in the cells when Mordred and I were escorted out."

Did that mean the others hadn't--she stiffens against him, pulling from his hold. "We have to find them."

"Never noticed him trying to eat crow -- it might have been a problem at the Wall if he had. Anyway, I don't think Young will get in his way."

On the subject of captives, he says, "Ask Grothia if she knows who was taken and if they got them all back. We got different messages when we tried to contact you. Robb's told me he was missing in action... there was never anything to say that the Regency took him. Yours told me you didn't exist."

Who did he see on arrival?

"Mordred is here. Noctis -- that's Dave Sky, isn't it? He's here. I don't know the others, not by name."

"Young picks fights with Irriella," she mutters, "What's to say she won't with Ghost?"

So that leaves Rey and Kylo for those she hadn't seen. And she knows they have a history, having overheard enough during their captivity. Her eyes go unfocused as she sends them both messages, quick little check ins she should have done far sooner, but hadn't, because she'd been swept up in other details.

And soon enough she's reaching for him again. Unsure of whether to hug him, smooth his brow, or to merely grab his hands upon the mention of Robb. Robb. She'd completely forgotten.

"Did Grothia tell you anything about him?"

His expression becomes bleak.

"He's gone. Not dead -- not any more than -- " He stumbles over his words, cuts himself off. "But not that, just gone."

Which means he's dead again, for now. Jon had hoped that Robb might come, or their father: If they can bring her dead husband, it may be that they can bring my dead father, or my brother. But in each case, they're gone again.

"Young must have had something to do with Ghost being here. She didn't have much to do with Irriella. All we can do is see how she does with him."

Edited 2018-03-19 03:30 (UTC)

She looks away, watching Ghost as he chews happily at the chicken corpse. No matter where they turn, the dead haunt them. Part of her almost wishes that none from their world had come, at least it would have spared Jon the heartache of losing his brother a second time.

But that is a cruel thing in and of itself to think. Aren't the moments they'd shared before Gallipoli worth it? She hopes they were.

"Another thing to worry about later, my love." She can be strong. She will be strong for him in his grief. "If there's a way to discover what's become of Robb, we will find it."

Her fingers curve around his forearm, gently coaxing him into movement.

"Shower and rest. You'd said much the same."

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