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]

[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.]