agogelogs | STAND ASIDE, HANDLE MINE, ADD THE CHEDDAR.

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STAND ASIDE, HANDLE MINE, ADD THE CHEDDAR.

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? The eclipse and surrounding events.
WHEN? Lead up to and resulting eclipse shenanigans.
ANYTHING ELSE? Please warn for anything besides physical violence and move to a personal journal if it's beyond PG-13.

nah—gut, skin, and eat the chef;

before he eats the rest

READ THE JHASHCH INFOPAGE.

THE CLOSING CEREMONY

The arenas close with another ostentatious celebration designed by the Great Houses, and with an air of regret even amidst the applause. COST and the Regency are again expected to attend, still given positions of honor, and particularly ardent fans may toss trinkets of favor and affection onto the stage. So pick up a couple bedazzled flowers on your way out...or get seriously hassled, if you never dedicated your victory proper. Whoops.

After that, however, the regret quickly transforms into fervor of a different sort. It's the holiday season and the following week is filled with enthusiastic preparation. The lucky among you might even spot Araneans from outside Ythaway, bringing in goods at the behest of nobles.

Unlike alien visitors who enter the Inner Rings by terminal, Jhashchan natives use eleven gated checkpoints spaced around the Third Ring; with the terminal, the spacing is almost like a clock. COST recruits are summarily warned to keep their distance; while these Araneans are commoners and would be sentenced to a quick death for even challenging a diplomat, that doesn't mean they're guaranteed to play by the rules.

Some of you just look way too tasty for that.

A MESSAGE FROM OUR SPONSORS

The day after the closing ceremony, recruits receive a bulletin.

@SCOUT | @ALL

expect a briefing at 0900
it'll be executed through the bce, so find a private location
while the declared victories favor the queen, we can't expect the regency or princess chch to accept this outcome
the eclipse will provide them perfect opportunity

stay sharp
keep track of each other

THE SOLAR ECLIPSE

The solar eclipse marks the beginning and end of the Jhashchan year, with Araneans speaking excitedly—or, in the case of the more religious, reverently—of its upcoming eve. This year is particularly special; it's an incredibly rare total eclipse when viewed from the eyes of Ymir, where the sun will only be visible as a halo around Cre. The last one was centuries ago, before High Queen Thsh ascended the throne in her mother's stead.

Recruits may find themselves accosted by Araneans eager to hear about eclipses from Earth; the old planet is famous for them, with a moon and sun perfectly distanced to create the halo effect. This, among a few other phenomenon, made it a popular tourist attraction.

Its rarity on Jhashch, however, means that the feast this year is an especially grandiose affair.

» ECLIPSE'S EVE

The Royal Family holds yet another banquet. They extend invitations a week beforehand to anybody who is somebody, esteemed diplomats included, and anticipate your RSVP. Rather than sending a daughter from a Great House, however, recruits each receive a formal letter, handwritten by one of the High Queen's many daughters.

The feast itself is one of gluttonous abandon; again hosted at the royal ballroom, it features a brand new chandelier wrought from processed Ymir (in consideration for their visitors' health). And it's remarkably unlike anything recruits have seen while on Jhashch. The Araneans still have certain social expectations, but there's something wild and near frenzied to their mannerisms on this day. Consider it a lack of poise, almost feral.

The spread of food is as varied as it is gratuitous, primarily meat from every corner of the Thshan Empire and then some. Spiders drink and devour all they're offered and expect their guests to do the same, though their scrutiny is perhaps a little impaired this eve; the wine is plentiful and strong, with toasts made to Queen Thsh.

She made an excellent showing in the arenas, with over half of the victories dedicated in her name. Her daughter earned no small amount of favor, carrying over a third of them, but it's apparent in the High Queen's bold, haughty pride (her declarations of seeking out those who were too foolish to pass their conquests where they're due) and Princess Chch's pensive silence—though she's always quick to spare a smile, genial and gentle, to any recruit who looks her way—that she finds it less than ideal.

Nonetheless, the revelry carries on well into the night.

» THE ECLIPSE

The day of the eclipse is an event unto itself. Food and drink is still plentiful, as the Araneans prepare to venture out into the wilds of Jhashch. It's almost a pilgrimage of sorts, with several members of House Jankeh arriving at COST's quarters. They're young daughters of the house, just beginning to brush over two meters tall, and they flash sharp teeth before they titter behind their hands in the presence of recruits.

They're here to equip you with suits that will allow you to step outside Ythaway's protected halls, so hopefully you didn't think you'd avoid venturing into Jhashch's red landscape. You're instructed to take your assigned visors, distributed by Young upon your arrival, and use them to protect your eyes from the sun's unforgiving glare.

And you have an audience, whether you want one or not, so it might be a good idea to stick together as the Araneans size your suits on the spot. It turns out it's one size fits all, but the tech is a little finicky and House Jankeh's daughters are here to make sure everything is set up properly. So while they probably aren't going to eat you...better safe than sorry.

Taking off the suits while outside Ythaway is ill-advised, if occasionally necessary when eating or drinking or if, y'know, you need to pee. While the effects of Ymir aren't as strong as inside the caverns, the average human will notice it's much harder to breathe in the thin atmosphere and likely experience effects similar to altitude sickness. Prolonged exposure, especially when coupled with Ymir poisoning, can easily kill a human in under two hours.

All recruits are permitted to carry weapons into the field. For those of you who came unarmed, House Khah provides basic melee weapons of your choice. They're all high quality make, but lack any of the fancy accessories found in House Jankeh's goods. A sword is just a sword.

But you'll need it, to survive a landscape rife with overgrown invertebrates all keen for a meal.

You're sent into the wilds with only a pack for food and sleeping gear; the visors come with maps installed. Recruits also have the option of riding skrit chri, but it's on your shoulders to obtain and transport anything else. It's a long trek to get clear of the cavern walls and it's expected everyone stay in the Jhashchan wilds overnight. Go prepared; the gates to Ythaway won't reopen until tomorrow.

The Araneans—nobles and commoners alike—scatter through the twin valleys, eager to claim the best vantage points and idle away their wait with hunting. The Royal Family takes the center of Ythaway's valley for themselves, with extravagant awnings to protect against the sun. They remain in full regalia, with an entourage of Aranean servants to cater to their needs. It's more practical than bringing out human servants, after all.

The eclipse itself is only a couple hours, with the period of totality lasting mere moments. Don't waste this once in a lifetime opportunity.

» ECLIPSE'S MORROW

However, as soon as the eclipse ends, the Araneans seem to almost...slow. The frenetic wildness that possessed so many of them dissipates, replaced by torpor. Many of them turn in for the day on the spot; while they may keep to daylight hours in Ythaway, protected from the sun, they favor the damp and dark by nature.

It is, as Young put it, a perfect opportunity.

But it isn't the Regency who makes the first move.

CHAOS THEORY

In the lull of the eclipse, the first target is none other than the High Queen herself. A male Aranean throws himself upon her as she stretches luxuriously in the shade, his mandibles clicking and a blade drawn. The edges shine with venom and it's only the Queen's hardy exoskeleton that sends it skittering askew.

General Shai is upon him in seconds and General Aythy turns on the other servants, already set to swarm them, as their mother skewers the Aranean with one long leg. The Royal Family dwarfs the servants in size, but they make up for it in numbers. And it's in this moment that it's obvious this isn't the Regency or Princess Chch's doing; while the princess is a skilled actor, she's taken just as off-guard as her mother. She doesn't recover enough to even stab the queen in the back before the flashbangs detonate.

When the eyespots clear, a cry goes up.

The Twin Generals Shai and Aythy have vanished.

WHILE YOU WERE AWAY

While the bulk of Araneans are overwrought at the thought of their missing Generals, it quickly becomes clear they aren't the only absent royal blood. Queen Thsh and Princess Chch are accounted for, but Prince Shch is nowhere to be found. Rumors immediately begin circulating; the Prince had a few victories dedicated in his name, so perhaps his mother wasn't pleased by what he did with them (what did he do with them? no one can seem to agree). But what better chance to dispose of him, so he can no longer conspire with his sister.

Fishier still is the absence of several elder daughters of House Khah. The Great Matron and her heir are present, but only they remain of important rank.

Meanwhile, COST has some of their own to locate. But even before the recruits on Jhashch can return to Ythaway, they receive a terse bulletin.

@SCOUT | @ALL

the commander is down
do not report back to our quarters; they've been compromised
blend in where you can and focus on your tasks for now

if you need gear, i've salvaged what i can
wait a few hours to meet me in the servant corridors
i'll set my location to public so you can find me

If you want to return to the comparative safety of Ythaway, you'll have to fight your way back against rogue Araneans and the Regency alike. Because far be it from the Regency not to capitalize on the situation, once they find their feet. Now might be a good time to call in any favors you earned in the arenas, provided you trust the Araneans enough to honor them. Or if you're confident in your ability to sweet talk them into not selling you out.

For anyone who does return to the villa, they'll find it a smoking husk, abandoned save for the Regency and Araneans seeking their favor. And they make it no secret they're hunting COST.

But, in the next breath, some of you are hunting them.

READ THE JHASHCH INFOPAGE.

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

a. eclipse's eve - banquet

This is the first time Eames has been in this room, with his late arrival to Jhashch, and the entire party is a bit overwhelming. He walks around, says a kind word here and there to his fans, but mostly, he watches. His nerves have lured him into drinking a bit more than he would usually, though he's tipsy if anything. His eyes are bright, and he seems more relaxed as the evening wears on.

He approaches another COST member, eyeing the dance floor.] Can I get you a drink?

b. eclipse

[Eames has claimed his own vantage point, sitting down with his sleeping bag. He crosses his legs, wishing he could take off this suit and actually relax. He feels a bit off his guard; The need to rest is overwhelming. But hopefully nothing will happen during this.

Nothing has, so far, so he spreads out a little, deep in thought. He pulls the poker chip out of his suit to hold, as he usually does when something's bothering him. What happens when reality is crazier than dreams, where he could actually get hurt, in more than one way? He sighs, shaking his head. He doesn't have an answer.

Later, as it gets closer to the eclipse, he calls out to COST members looking for a good spot, seeing if they'll join him in watching.]

c. halls in the chaos

[It's easy enough to get back inside when you have some Aranean friends. Eames finds his way to Young and grabs some gear before leave voice messages for a few friends to make sure they're okay. A stupid thing to do when running around a scene in chaos.

He runs straight into a distracted Regency member, and their heads crack together hard. Eames curses, and both their swords clatter in the opposite direction of each other. Both run for their sword, and Eames swivels on his knee to point it in the Regency member's direction, and they're at a stalemate, swords in each other's faces, as blood trickles down Eames' forehead. Maybe help a fellow COST member?]

[ It feels like deja vu, standing in this banquet hall. It also feels like that the first time he'd been here was a million years ago, so much has happened since then. Utilizing his natural status, he slips through the crowds carefully, never staying in one spot for too long. He takes the opportunity to dance a little here and there, but his concentration is shot, pointed inward instead of firmly here where it needs to be.

Frustrating, to say the least.

Citing that as a temporary lost cause, he makes his way to the edge of the party, a fringe of hair falling over his brow the only indication that he's not as put together and pressed as usual. Arthur looks up, eyes immediately connecting with a familiar figure and just catching the words before they get drowned out. ]

You can get me five, Mr. Eames.

[Eames' eyes are soft when he looks at Arthur, and he wonders if it's because of the alcohol or because of last night. He feels light, carefree, for the first time in a long time, and he smirks as he reaches for a flute of a drink off a waiter's tray.]

Let's not try to catch up with me that quickly, hm?

[He holds out the drink for Arthur while reaching out with a free hand to smooth down Arthur's collar, eyes bright.]

I know it's easier said than done, but try not to worry, darling.

Edited 2018-06-20 18:52 (UTC)

You don't get to tell me what to do, I'm an adult.

[ The retort has absolutely no heat in it, especially since he's being handed a glass of some beverage. There's also the brush of Eames' fingers along where his skin meets the cloth of his stiff collar. It's. Nice? Being fussed over a little. Even if he knows his collar is sitting perfectly, as he's checked in every reflective surface since he's gotten here. Paranoia sure is a thing. ]

I think at this point, doing inception again would be easier.

If you have to say it that vehemently... [he teases, letting that sentence wander off before it gets him in trouble.]

I would have to agree. My work's been a bit overwhelming.

[Two forges isn't a workload to sneeze at. He steps back, admiring his (absolutely unnecessary) handiwork, then smiles, looking back up at Arthur.]

It's hard to be bothered if it helps you, though, honestly. [A pause.] It feels odd, to be open about all... this- [He waggles a finger between them.] -suddenly. Too many years of trying to be unreadable, I suppose.

[ And immediately, he worries a little bit. That familiar crease appearing between his brow. They've all got a lot of work, with Mel and Percival learning to build for a Dream. Learning mazes and closed loops and paradox. And then there's Eames, who somehow has to pull off two forges.

Arthur knows he's done it before, but never with two different targets. ]

You gonna be okay? I don't know if I can pare down the time you'll be forging, but I can look at the numbers again.

[ Eames is more than capable, he always is. But Arthur also doesn't want the team to collapse if there's work he can cut away and put on his plate instead. ]

It's a good thing it's happening here instead of in a trench during our last mission. The spiders really don't give a shit what we do with each other.

[ Whereas the middle of a war zone in the past? Might not have been very welcoming. ]

[Oh, dear. He's got him worrying. Opposite of what he wanted, really. Instead of scolding, he settles into a smile, shaking his head.]

You're worrying. I can handle it, I promise. You've enough on your mind already.

[He can't help himself with Arthur's hair falling loose over his forehead; He reaches out to brush it back gently, smiling in amusement.]

I think you're right. But I actually meant that I feel strange telling you these things.

It's my job to worry, you asshole.

[ Which ok, not really, but it's close enough. Running point is all about nerves; he's gotten very good at riding the very edge. Balanced between too much work and just enough. High octane stupidity and logic. Just, he's been extending his nervousness out into checking on people more. Checking on Eames more, because he knows he's capable but he cares and he doesn't want to drive him away with his single-minded focus.

With how Eames is oh so carefully brushing the hair away from his brow, he feels like he could never. ]

Yeah, well, make that two of us. [ Arthur mumbles half of that into his glass, which he promptly drains. Another waiter passes by and he sets the empty glass on the tray, withholds from grabbing another one. Even though he is desperately too sober to be dealing with any of this.

Instead, he takes hold of Eames' hand, the beginning of a flush creeping up his neck. ]

Come on, dance with me.

[He grins at the first part. Arthur seems to think so, but he's honestly going a bit mad with worrying power, in Eames' honest opinion.

Not that... he's going to say that.

His expression softens, turns to surprise when he takes his hand. He feels a little lightheaded for a second before nodding, smiling softly. Eames leads him out on to the dance floor, pulling Arthur closer as a slow song floats through the air. It feels completely natural, completely wonderful. He slips his hand over his hip (perhaps a bit sensually, softly) and takes his hand, holding it up.]

This is what I've wanted all night, you know.

[ He knows he's not much of a romantic. Knows that his personality is seen as cold, a bit stand offish. Eames has taken the brunt of his particular nitpicking before, many times over. And clearly, he knows that Arthur is still human underneath it all.

Still, there's some satisfaction in knowing he can surprise him to this extent. Embarrassed blushing be damned.

Arthur lets himself be led out into the crowd, past spiders, humans, aliens– all dressed in their finest. Glittering with gems, fine silks fluttering quietly, the quiet tinkle of jewelry or the soft click of heels on polished floor. It doesn't matter that this could all go to shit. Doesn't matter that they started this mission with death and blood, that doubtless there will be more.

Right now, he's focused solely on the weight of Eames' hand on his hip, the exact angle of their arms and hands where they connect. Years ago, Mal had led him when she taught him how to dance, her feet bare and toes painted a bright red. She'd laughed, musical and throaty, when he'd awkwardly tripped and shuffled along in his socks. Eventually, he'd gotten it and they'd switched, him leading her. They danced every evening for several weeks, until eventually, he'd taken a job across the country. Life became too busy in the aftermath, Mal had Philippa, and the Cobbs' living room was never rearranged for more dancing space again.

He feels the same lightness as he did then, happily caves his control, one strong hand on Eames' shoulder. ]

Well, show me what you can do. [ It's not a challenge, more like a request, a smile ghosting along the line of his mouth. ]

[It's a definite stark difference. Wasn't Eames just at the stadium, watching a COST member get torn apart? It makes him cherish this even more, makes him not hide the happy flush to his cheeks, his warm smile.

He's never been happier, and he smiles harder at the request.]

I'll show you, [he mutters a bit nonsensically, playfully. Then he's leading him across the dance floor, actually quite a smooth dancer, his passion in it obvious. Not for dancing, though. Dancing with Arthur. He's almost breathless as he watches Arthur's expression, as he learns that Arthur can handle himself on a dance floor just as well as a shootout. ]

Arthur... [he breathes as they glide along, his hand squeezing Arthur's as he smiles.] I, uh... thank God you're not stepping on my toes. [It's a clumsy recovery, but Arthur tends to make it harder and harder for him to fake anything around him.] These are new shoes, you know.

[ Somehow, he knew Eames would be a good dancer. Maybe it's years of watching him do forges, dancing with marks topside and dreamside. But it was one thing to see and another to experience.

He smirks at the comment– doesn't mention the verbal trip up, since he understands what was being said. It's all there, in how close they are, how easy they move from one step to the next. Syncing up just like they do when there's a job, differences put aside and razor focused on the end result. Arthur thinks, perhaps, if he'd been less of a coward, they could've had this a long time ago. Because a partnership like this doesn't always click. ]

Mm, I have my secrets. [ At that, he laughs quietly, expression open. ] Mal said she couldn't leave me an uncultured American and bullied me into learning.

[ It's not said with any grief, just the hazy focus of nostalgia. ] You're not too bad yourself. I might even swoon.

[He feels a rush of something affectionate and exciting when Arthur smirks at him, feels his heart stutter with it.

And then he's laughing and looking so much more open than Eames has ever seen him, and he feels so warm and pleasant. Eames' grin is wide, at Arthur's happiness and his last comment.]

Might you? What else can I romance you with...? I could draw you like one of my French girls!

[Quoting Titanic is extra, but Eames has always been extra.] I'm hoping to learn the secrets you'll trust me with. For example, it's imperative that I know your favorite ice cream. I'm sure it's something like... 'key lime' or 'butter brickle.

Jesus, don't pull the Leo DiCaprio card on me.

[ He's laughing about it anyway, because it's ridiculous and maybe that alcohol is starting to hit his system. Arthur feels flush from it, from the dancing, from Eames' bright look. ]

Neither, I've always liked mint chocolate chip. Or strawberry, since I'm boring. [ Weird how they've known each other this long and don't know certain things. Arthur can list off all of Eames's medical expenses and issues from the past two years but has no idea what his favorite ice cream flavor is. ]

Let me guess, you're into chocolate of some sort.

[He laughs with him, wants to touch that flushed, dimpled cheek. But he really is trying to woo him with his dancing, so he resists the temptation.]

You're not boring. [He grins, pleased to be able to surprise Arthur.] Strawberry's my favorite. But I refuse to eat the mint chocolate chip unless it's Christmas. [Who eats ice cream during December??]

[He gives him a soft smile.] I'm glad we discussed this important relationship question.

I never took you for a strawberry kind of guy.

[ Which, hey, it's pleasantly surprising. Not even because they share a flavor. But more in that he knows this information now, however unusable it is in their current setting. Then again, having some semblance of normalcy is sort of nice. ]

Very important, serious stuff. Speaking of, what's your favorite season?

[ He hangs out in Mombasa all the time, but he's not sure if it's because of the weather or because of other reasons. Like the gambling. And lax laws. ]

[He grins, shaking his head.] Just shows you you don't know everything, Arthur, darling.

[And with that, he leans forward to kiss his forehead lightly.] Predictably, summer. I love heat, cold beverages... less clothing. But mostly, I love beaches in the summer. [A quiet pause.] Think we'll ever get to go to a beach together?

[ He can handle dancing. He even handled talking about his feelings with Eames and didn't bolt from the room like some kind of terrified cat.

But then Eames brushes a kiss to his forehead and he suddenly feels like a teenager, heart giddily skipping and a blush rising on his cheeks. At least he doesn't trip. ]

Less clothing, how lewd of you. [ Somehow he knew that was coming. ] Dunno, think COST will want to send us to some beach planet after all this shit? I don't know how eager I am to flash my white ankles and blind people though.

[Eames can't help but laugh, though it isn't mean-spirited.]

You've always known I'm lewd. Perhaps they will. And I've seen those ankles, and I would prefer you don't slander them. They're lovely ankles.

But you get the idea. Getting you out of all these clothes.

Eames | open

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closed to Jon Snow;

in which Spiderland finally broke Jon Snow

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