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

[inconstantly]

[The glow is almost too much. John doesn't know if the strong urge to reach toward the thing comes from the staff itself or if it's his own internal impulse. Either way, John gives in and grabs with both hands. He holds the staff close to his chest, closing his eyes and breathing in. He can sense its energy as a conduit and an invisible crackle sends itself to John's shoulders through his fingertips. It's as if magic itself has declared the item's significance.

He has no desire to use the staff. Every magic user has their own abilities and methods. His are his own and so are Dorian's. But that doesn't stop John from wanting to hold the staff just a little longer as he looks to Dorian.]

Tell me about it. [One hand keeps a solid grip on the staff while the other runs fingertips along the length of the details.] When did you acquire this?

[excelsus]

[Dorian did nothing to intervene, fascinated by how enraptured John was by the staff even though it was as mundane to Dorian as any weapon might be. Still, a passioned response to magic was better than fear as far as the mage was concerned, he'd seen what fear of magic had done to many mages just like himself...not that there wasn't cause to justify it of course. It was no reason to do to his kind what was done to his kind in many parts of his world.

When John voiced a desire to know more about the staff itself, Dorian levered himself onto his feet breaching the small space between himself and the other man so that he could observe from over his shoulder, he's not going to take it away of course, John's free to examine as much as he would like to...who is he to slam the door of curiosity in the face of another?]

Tempest. This is called the Tempest staff, a weapon for mages...this one was I procured from a place called the Western Approach in the Still Ruins. When my homeland still ruled most of Thedas they built the Ruins for magical experiments I presume. [Not all magical experiments go according to plan, however.] They wanted to tap into the power of the Fade, which is the source of magic in my world, it's also where we dream and where we go when we die...so the Chantry says. Anyway, their experiment ripped a hole in the fade and that allowed demons to pour through...they overran the ruins and in doing so a fail-safe was triggered. Tricksy bastards my ancestors were. This staff was the fail-safe, when demons started pouring through it froze time within the ruins...that is until we came along, plucked the staff out, killed all of the demons inside, and closed the breach.

[Dorian reached around John grabbing the staff with both hands positioned tangentially alongside John's own, not taking it from him of course, just holding it.] What do you feel?

[inconstantly]

[At first John doesn't register Dorian's approach, which is very unlike him. It's not until Dorian reaches for the staff that John fully registers the other man's presence. But being surrounded in this way only feels natural. He settles against Dorian's form, arm against arm on either side and relaxing his back into Dorian's front. Again John closes his eyes, this time parting his lips to more deeply breathe in the air around them.]

There's nothing like this where I'm from. You either have your abilities or you don't. I've acted as my own conduit before, jolting myself with electricity to bring a skill to light.

[His eyes open and he turns his head to Dorian, still fully enraptured by the staff.]

That's what this feels like now. Like I'm the point where lightning starts, the rumbling of a crack before the bolt strikes. I can feel the extinguishing of the demons, fire to ash.

[excelsus]

[Dorian's not exactly sure what motivated him to...well he wasn't certain what this was, perhaps this was just the student in him becoming the teacher, or perhaps the idea of someone so taken by magic was just that endearing to him. He felt an impulse clicking like the cogs in a machine and had he been five years younger he wouldn't suppress those impulses. This was a learning moment for the both of them after all.]

Oh, the magical abilities are inherent, not just anyone can pick up a staff and be a mage...the staff merely draws from you, amplifies what you have, gives it distance and precision...there's a...mathematical formula to certain magics. I have some on my arm in fact.

[Granted he's only talking now as a distraction from the proximity, but it's no lie, Dorian is just the sort of nerd that would tattoo himself with magical mathematical equations that would make very little sense to anyone but himself. To most people it was simply geometric designs, but they had meaning.]

It could be drawing that feeling from you, I'm half tempted to let you push it...except we're in a static cage and while electric fingers can be fun...standing in a ring of lightening just for curiosity's sake would be a bit dangerous. [Not that he's going to tell John to let go any time soon, that would mean letting John go, wouldn't it? Instead he nudged John's hand up a few inches until his palm was hovering over a spherical object embedded into the staff.] A rune...that's a spirit rune, it's designed to increase damage inflicted on demons and similar creatures like darkspawn.

[Dorian is curious in the way John seems to be engaging with the staff, there might be parts of the staff that call out to John the most and the spirit rune was a powerful magical element.]

[inconstantly]

[John does his best to hang on to every word. What he knows of magic is largely self taught. While John has never thought of himself as a scholar, he has diligently learned everything he could in relation to the occult since he was 15. Not a day goes by that he doesn't practice or strive to learn something new. Even so, this is a lot of information at once about a world and practices with which he isn't familiar. He might have to come back to this another day and ask Dorian further questions.

The closeness doesn't help with his ability to concentrate either. Not that he's complaining. He's grateful for the nudge, not only for the touch itself but for the direction.]

Good thing that demons are my specialty.

[The flippant words turn to a gasp as he touches the rune. It's as if suddenly feeling the energy of every demon he's sent back to hell over the years in one sharp rush and he's forced to look forward. His eyes open wide to reveal only white as John grips the staff firmly.]

Disperges in ventum.

[The portion of the spell comes low in his throat. There's no demons to banish so the spell is useless, but that doesn't been nothing has happened. The staff has found someone else with a gift, someone with experience. John blinks and his eyes return to their natural brown. He wonders if something like this would have any effect at home. Perhaps the larger demons could be more easily held at bay and trapped. It was worth considering.

John glances down to Dorian's arm alongside his own.]

I'd like to see that formula sometime.

[excelsus]

[In contrast Dorian manifested his magic at an early age, earlier than most of his peers which had been a point of pride for his parents who were quick to send him to study in various magical Circles. Various circles because Dorian not only had a flair for magic, but he also had a gift for getting kicked out of even the most prestigious schools and he cut through tutors like a knife through butter. Dorian was a terrible student, but not a terrible scholar, just bored, by and large...and stifled by a system he didn't particularly like. Though it had to be said that earlier it was due to arrogance, most of the children he went to school with were notably older than he was and he was better than they were...and often liked to prove it.

He also had his own set of issues that made him very difficult in his earlier years and even now made him difficult as far as his family was concerned.]

In my experience demons and magic tend to go hand-in-hand, it's the primary reason why mages are feared in many parts of Thedas.

[Granted it is a lot to absorb so that's a discussion best tabled for another conversation, for now he was just observing reactions. John seemed seasoned in his own way, but there was a curious inexperience in him that came with being self-taught. Many experienced mages who were self-taught tended to have bits in their style that clunk, but without magical training it was difficult to see the parts that actually did that. There was something very intriguing about witnessing raw magical talent, or Hedge mages, not that he was sure if he could ascribe the term to John.

John was a bit different, Dorian was referencing the man to what he knew about magic and his magic seemed to translate at least in some form, but he couldn't treat the man as if he were like mages back home, not completely. John would probably hate it if he were a mage in Thedas. Instead he focused on reactions, on John's reaction to touching the rune, his eyes...is it an episode...memories? Dorian was here and if things went too far he would protect John, not overwhelm him...still his concern wasn't completely swept until John returned to normal and that...spell was it...banished whatever moment his companion was under.

But that spell.]

Disperse into the wind? [Latin was Tevene in his world, but not all Tevene was Latin, the fact that it came out of the mouth of someone who was not (as far as he knew) was an interesting surprise. One that inspired many questions, but he could stifle them easily enough, for now he opened up his stance letting John lean against him heavily if needed, Dorian is sturdier than he pretends to be.]

Anytime. [Why not, Dorian isn't hoarding his magic, magic is made to serve after all. Still there are other things to take into consideration, things that draw the mage's concern.] Are you alright? It sounded like you were trying to banish something...the rune. Hm...I wonder if it's just the rune, every piece of this staff is made up of something that has magical properties...that looked like some sort of connection.

[Maybe he was sensing the properties, reacting to it, who knows...but curious as Dorian might be he's not about to treat someone like an experiment.]

If you need to take a break? [It was John's choice.]

[inconstantly]

[John does take the opportunity to lean back against Dorian. It shouldn't be a problem as he is noticeably slighter in frame, but that consideration doesn't even enter his mind as he drops his weight. He hadn't felt this exhilarated by magic in a long time and though John's body looks physically worn, his face is bright with possibility.

The Latin does admittedly require some explanation.]

What you heard, that incantation was a fraction of a demon banishing spell I use. A portion in the middle. I'm not some kind of amateur like that but it felt like I was... dropped into a moment. [It sounds stupid to say it out loud.] It was as if being transported to somewhere I've been before, only a thousand times over.

[He drops his head heavily onto Dorian's shoulder, looking up at him with a wide grin.]

I'm alright. But I think it's safe to say that I could use that wine right about now.

[excelsus]

[Fortunately Dorian is able to support the weight of an injured fully grown man and since John wasn't injured it was even less taxing. At least he seemed vitalized in spite of appearing somewhat benumbed, he idly wondered if John could also benefit from lyrium. That was the funny thing about magic and spell casting, simple spells Dorian could do all day, especially when a Staff was designed around a certain element...this one had spirit and cold elements about it that meant he could use winter and spirit branches of magic without exhaustion all day. Depending on the spell. More complicated spells required a cool down period and taxing ones required lyrium if he wanted a quick bounce back.

Unfortunately he had no lyrium potions on him or no way to make lyrium potions at the moment so there was nothing for it in practice, only in theory.]

Hm...well that's not completely unexpected given the purpose of the staff as a tool used to lock an entire event into a moment. Reliving it multiple times? Those demons must have been stuck in their moment for hundreds of years. [So, no, it didn't sound at all stupid to Dorian.] It might also have something to do with your particular brand of magic as well, you are really making a connection, serah.

[At John's confession Dorian just laughed throatily, carefully walking the both of them back to the bed so he could ease the man down and free up his hands enough to grab the wine. Whether he wants to hang on to the staff is up to John, Dorian isn't particularly possessive of magical objects, mostly because he likes the acceptance of magic.]

Bottle or glass?

[inconstantly]

[John allows himself to be guided. He's not any kind of invalid, but leaning against Dorian does admittedly help to steady his step. Once seated John reaches to the side to carefully rest the staff against the wall. It's not like him to be respectful of other people's things, but he has an interest in keeping this one intact.

At Dorian's declaration that John was making a connection John smiles toothily with triumph. He doesn't need the validation, and in fact considers himself very knowledgeable in what he does. But here after joining COST, there are so many people from different worlds that it would be a shame not to glean some knowledge from them. Maybe he was a magpie of magic after all, but that is what, in John's opinion, made him effective. And while he doesn't need that validation, it's always nice to have a stroke to the ego.

As Dorian fetches the wine, John makes himself comfortable on the bed. He pushes himself back to sit with back flat against the wall and he stretches his legs across the horizontal width.]

Bottle. Let no one here say that I'm a gentleman. Anything anyone tells you to the contrary is an utter lie.

[excelsus]

[Not that his staff would be a tool easily broken, but all the same he appreciates the interest enabling John's respect of this piece of Dorian's property. Not that there is much in the way of stuff that can actually be damaged in this room that leaves Dorian with something less to be concerned about given that most of the stuff he did keep would be dangerous to destroy...well, where he was from anyway.

Taking John's request to heart Dorian conjures up two bottles of wine instead of one, it will set him back a few bottles, but occasions do call for more than one bottle of fine wine and he's certain John could drink an entire bottle on his own, call it a hunch, but their time spent together on the boat was a good indicator of the man's drinking habits. Those habits either matched or exceeded Dorian's own and Dorian was quite the drunkard.

Along with two bottles Dorian withdrew the blade normally affixed to his staff so that he could re-purpose it into a sort of cork saber. It was no cork screw, but it did the job and Dorian doubted very much that he would have any need of the corks, certain the wine in both bottles would be finished before this was all over.]

To being ill-bred plebeians then. I don't trust a gentleman anyway...all that niceness, it gets a bit too...nice [Dorian passes John the first opened bottle before prying the cork out of his and taking a deep drought]...before you know it all that niceness melts into something else...pious bastards.

[inconstantly]

[John takes the wine in hand easily. Giving them both a bottle was by far the most practical option, if indulging in their mutual alcohol habit could be considered practical. He delivers Dorian an eyebrow raise and nod of approval at the improvisational use of the knife. It's something that John would have done, and he appreciates an out of the box thinker.

He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a long swig. The action is not meant to taste anything, just to ingest as much as possible as quickly as possible. When he lowers the bottle John keeps it close in hand rather than set it aside.]

Well you're in luck considering I've never thought of you as particularly nice. But I don't know if I would consider you an ill-bred plebeian either. I assume all the presentation [John circles his hand around his own face to indicate Dorian's personal grooming. ] isn't an accident.

[excelsus]

[Dorian settles himself perpendicular to John since the man has occupied the bed horizontally, of course that also means he's throwing his legs over his bedmate's as well just to stretch them out given that they are both respectably tall and Dorian himself is respectably leggy.

Enabling one another might not be considered practical to most, but when it comes to dealing with problems getting drunk and fast is often the best method there is when it comes to coping. It may also be the quickest way to engaging in stupid activities, but that was also part of the charm.]

Mm...depends on who you ask...this [Dorian mimics the gesture around his own face] is probably symptomatic of my upbringing and yes, I was fat with it. Strict nannies, expensive education in prestigious Circles of Magi...found myself kicked out of every single one, ah...the scion of House Pavus, a product of generations of careful breeding, and the repository of its hopes and dreams. Marvelous! The grooming habits are one of he few things I didn't despise growing up.

[And Dorian punctuates that statement by throwing his own bottle back and drinking deeply.]

[inconstantly]

For what it's worth, you wear that grooming handsomely. Not that you didn't already know that. [John shrugs, taking another drink as he settles under the weight and subsequent body heat of Dorian's legs. He turns his head to regard his companion.] I hope you gave everyone directing you hell.

[For the briefest of moments John imagines a child with a fully grown mustache running away from his handlers. The thought is so absurd that he's able to push it out of his mind quickly.]

I'm certain you can tell by my significant lack of both manners and hygiene that I had nothing like that growing up. Or ever. Didn't stop me from my own expulsions though.

[He gestures toward Dorian with the bottle.]

Restrictions are a look best not pulled off by anyone in this room.

[excelsus]

You know me so well. [Because, yes, Dorian Pavus has always possessed a heightened awareness of his finest qualities and he's just as aware of how one of those qualities is unashamedly stretched out over John's legs. It is very appropriate.] I gave them enough trouble that my father eventually had me kidnapped and imprisoned in one of his estates, delightful man my father.

[Unfortunately Dorian wasn't born with the mustache, which is a shame, it's where so much of his charisma hides out, but Dorian shrugs instead swallowing more wine to bring his thoughts back into focus.]

Darling John, it's all part of your roguish charm. [And in fact it could be worse, he's been to places where people didn't bathe at all.] With such a silver tongue I don't doubt it, I can't imagine you like being told what to do...no wait, that's me.

[But he could see that kind of rebellion in John as well.]

Restrictions do denote a lack of imagination...stops people from doing great things because they are allowed to. That's the problem the the way most of my world perceive mages back home.

[inconstantly]

[John frowns as Dorian speaks, resting his free hand on his friend's thigh. The way the man brings up a memory only to quickly move past it is a move that John would have done himself. He's not going to press if Dorian doesn't want to talk, he's no one's damn therapist, but he does find himself giving half a shit. How annoying.]

You're absolutely right though. I don't like being told what to do at all.

[He shakes his head, frown turning to a wry tug of the lips as he brushes his thumb back and forth against the thigh.]

Look at us, two horrible deviants in a military organization of all things. How would you explain that, eh? Father issues, a backwards sense of decision making, sheer stubbornness?

[excelsus]

[It's not his favorite topic to be perfectly honest and he highly doubts that John wants to hear about his war with his own family. His father was actually quite loving, up until the point where he wasn't and that was terribly conflicting for him. He didn't know how to talk about loving someone and hating them just as much, it made very little sense.]

Of course not, only a hobnailed jackboot would enjoy a good finger-wagging while someone leads them about by the nose.

[Dorian watches with some fascination as John's thumb strokes his thigh, it's a comforting gesture, not one he can feel because of the leather, but still. Visual input is just as meaningful, it still has some small part of his brain singing with and imagined sensation.

When John mentions that he has father issues Dorian cants his head, raising both of his eyebrows as if to say you have father issues too? He doesn't expect an answer, he's able to read that it's not a topic for discussion just like John didn't pry the information from him, but it brought to light some more similarities.]

Desperate perhaps...even the rebels will do [the mage rolled himself up until he was on his knees, straddling John's legs] or perhaps it's because we're...cynical in a way that could almost be mistaken for pragmatism. It could also be the terrible charm or the devastating good looks...perhaps they are short on good-looking magically inclined types.

[Dorian throws back another sip from his own bottle before pointing said bottle towards the stairs leading to the kitchen.] Said something about food, didn't I?

[inconstantly]

[John would listen to Dorian if he did want to speak of his history, but he wouldn't draw it out in such a manner. There was learning about someone and then there was intentionally getting too personal. Though they had radically different upbringings there is still a certain connection to be found in moments that shape a person into their future self.

And then Dorian is on his knees which, to be quite frank was quick and unexpected, but not unwelcome. He places a hand on the other man's hip as if inviting him to stay. The other hand brings the wine to his mouth for a long drink before setting it aside to rest against the wall.]

Dorian.

[The newly freed hand curls lightly around Dorian's bare shoulder making skin to skin contact.]

You can't practically sit in my lap and expect me to now think of food.

[excelsus]

[Well, if anything could make Dorian forget about getting too personal it was a hand on his hip followed by one on his shoulder not even a few moments later. That little maneuver did require a bit of physical closeness on John's part, it also sparked the realization that he was being barred from the kitchen, something the mage considered very carefully.

His eyes considered the length of John's arms and the the fingers pressing into him...neither of them were drunk from a single bottle of wine. Buzzed, perhaps, the tingling warm sensation pleasantly creeping through his system was about the extent of it, but he still had his wits about him.]

Oh? [Dorian's voice took a dip, lower, a bit smoother if possible and he leaned in easing John back against the wall, his outstretched hands pressing against the wall (one still fisting a bottle of wine), effectively caging John with his arms.] You have other appetites that require satisfaction...more primal ones?

[It's an out if John want's to take it, Dorian enjoys flirting, but he's not so nice a man that he would hold himself back if John was offering himself seriously. Dorian was only unassuming up to a point.]

[inconstantly]

[A slow, broad smile spreads across John's face as he finds himself surrounded. He looks up from his seated position to make eye contact with the person kneeling above him. The out is not necessary.]

You talk more than I do. That's quite a feat.

[The hand on Dorian's shoulder shifts across the length of his shoulders to loop around his neck, pulling him in close enough for an unambiguous brush of the nose against his cheek.]

But do me a favor will you?

[Resting the uncorked wine bottle against the wall while still on the bed would certainly not do anymore. John grabs his own bottle and slips out of their current positioning to place it carefully on the ground. When he returns, John ducks back under Dorian's arms to allow himself to be contained on either side. This time he kneels also, keeping himself at an even height with the other mage and resting both hands on leather-clad hips.]

Save the wine.

[excelsus]

I would blame the ground floor debates, but the truth is I do enjoy the sound of my own voice.

[Dorian has a rather high opinion of the velvety smooth tonality that makes him naturally bias, but he's been told there is a nice quality to his voice--so who is he to ignore flattery?]

Mmm?

[A noncommittal sound that replaces what he intended to say which was anything...and he's acquainted with the notion that anything could be dangerous when granting someone a favor. Still, he's aware of his own weakness when it comes to seduction and John's nose brushing against his cheek is dangerously tempting so he'll wait for the plot twist and when it comes it is almost half-expected.

Granted, it inspires a short, breathy laugh--not from surprise, but delight.

Neither one of them has an interest in wasting alcohol, especially when anything potent is rare on the base and getting wet and sticky in a bed that's already wet and sticky was never very pleasant, so when John relocated his bottle to the floor Dorian followed suit. Of course his methods required less moving and more magic on his part and ended in both bottles corked with a barrier spell and out of the way...it would hold until either exhaustion set in or his mana ran dry.

He wonders which would come first.]

That's the sexiest favor anyone has ever asked of me.

[Well, maybe, but with John bracketed between his arms and the man's hands on he's hips Dorian's hoping for more provocative requests in the near future. Not one for hesitations, he surges forward, claiming John's mouth in a kiss, assuming this was te direction their flirtations were going and usually adept at reading a mood.

He could only hope they were both in a similar mood.]

[inconstantly]

[Dorian has nothing to worry about misreading a situation. John pulls him closer by the hips, returning the kiss with fervor and slipping his tongue between Dorian's lips. He allows his hands roam, first to the small of Dorian's back, then up to his inner shoulders before spreading out again. The kiss feels like the reward of a long time coming, from the very first drunken lean against Dorian's not any more sober frame. Why bother denying something they both clearly want?

When John is forced to come up for air he presses his face against Dorian's neck, a broad grin flush against skin. Breaths exhale heavily and he trails his fingertips from the top of Dorian's shoulders down to the tops of his hands. John lifts his head, regarding Dorian with a teasing glance.]

I did ask to see your tattoos. Or did that not register?

[His hands travel back up to the shoulders again, attention clearly caught by the subject at hand.]

I have four of my own if you're interested.

[excelsus]

[Normally Dorian finds himself the initiator, but he's not at all put off by John slipping him the tongue, lips parting instinctively at the first sign of prodding. John's delicious, well at least he ought to be after drinking so much fine wine, or it could be that kissing him is simply going to Dorian's head in much the same was as if he were tipsy. It's dizzying and he draws John in, just short of devouring his mouth with feverish kisses, and though it's been a while tongue jousting is one thing Dorian hasn't forgotten how to do.

He's also more than happy to repay touch with touch, flattening his palms against John's lower back, coasting upward, hiking his rumpled shirt as he smoothes his hands over skin. John should be able to feel more than just the warmth of his hands though, something electric and controlled shooting up and down the other mage's spine, a pleasant tingle, like thousands of tendrils massaging his back before they both break away for breath. While John is busy catching his breath Dorian is is still plying his lips to his companion's cheek and brow only withdrawing a bit at the question.

It's not often that Dorian is thrown, but it happens now and again and he can't hold back another pleased laugh.]

A thinly veiled request to see me naked? You have but to ask. [Well aware of how complicated his own clothing is, Dorian partss from John, just enough to focus on the bindings around his left arm, like a glove that ran up the whole length of his arm, with a series of buckles and straps. He finally shook his arm free, letting it land on the floor where he's certain more clothing would follow.

The tattoo on his arm is a series of geometric shapes that really don't have any meaning at first glance.] They're formulas...for determining a spell's raw potential.

[Much like the staff he presents his arm to John to do with as he wills before offering the man a smile that was mock coy.]

Naturally. How could I say no especially if it means seeing more of you.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO REPLY I'M JUST BUTTONING UP THE THREAD A LIL MORE SOLIDLY

[inconstantly]

[Thank God Dorian is removing his own clothing, because John wouldn't have the faintest idea of where to start. Once the glove is off he traces his fingers along the lines of the formulas, studying them with just as much fascination as he had the staff. There's definitely the human element to consider as the lines dip with every curve of muscle. The touch of skin reminds him that no, this is definitely not like the staff, and there's so much left to explore. He is exceedingly interested in what the tattoos have to say, but for the moment the person wearing them is much more immediate.]

You'll have to show me how those formulas work later.

[Without another word John peels off his loose fitting shirt, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the ground to join the glove. Immediately apparent are the tattoos on John's arms. Script on the left forearm depicts a quote spoken by Polonius in Hamlet "This above all: to thine own self be true." On the right shoulder is a tribal design reminiscent of flames. Along his left side "With no fear" is written in Aramaic and on his back is the alchemy symbol for fire. Though required to part for the removal of the shirt, John can still feel the tingle along his spine, growing more and more faded the longer they don't touch. He'll have to get that back.]

I can't say mine have any practical use [He takes Dorian's ungloved hand and places it on his side, giving the other mage permission to look as he pleases] but they did serve a purpose.

[As they continue and touch turns to more the wine is kept perfectly safe and preserved. Upon finishing it's quickly remembered, as well as the food. John did comes here for a meal after all, a fact he will not allow Dorian to forget.]