agogelogs | all this energy calling me

all this energy calling me

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

TOUCH BASE;

backfill armed services echelon
COST re-appropriated vehicle 854A-5.2

read the base setting infopage

DEPARTING FRANCE

The order comes out the second day after the Tuileries is sacked:

PACK UP, 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, and it starts like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, not painful, not to start with. Just a hum of sensation. But the vibration spreads. Veteran COST soldiers often refer to this phenomena as 'the buzz'. The sensation builds, feeling not unlike standing near a great engine, or the wind rattling the branches of a great tree. There is long a moment of motion sickness, and one cannot always be sure if it is you that is shaking from the inside out, or the world that is shaking you from the outside in. It may just 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. Some swear they feel a touch of the divine; the eyes of the eternal look down upon you. Ancient bones rattle just out of earshot, cold and brittle. Or maybe it's an illusion brought on by powerful technology grafted into your skin.

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

Nausea is commonly accompanied by this shift. One moment, you're in the cold of France. The next, you're in a temperature regulated hallway, looking not unlike 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. Crows sit on high ledges, looking down, watching.

(For those of you who just apped in and didn't participate in the TDM, you'll appear alongside your comrades now, standing in this long hallway filled with droids and crows and men and women in clothing from 18th century France. Of course, you'll be wearing the minimal COST athletic issued underwear, and holding whatever one item you were allowed to bring. Surprise!)

At the end of the hall is a long table with heaps of used clothing on it. The sizes and styles vary, along with color and detail (AKA none look exactly like the linked pics, they're just a baseline, use your ~imagination~). One thing's for certain, all the clothing has been used before, with holes darned and worn edges. They're all clean, though, and each bears a single patch with the words 'KNOW YOUR RIGHTS, THE FUTURE IS UNWRITTEN' and 'COST sewn into the side.

They're not exactly high fashion, but they might be more comfortable than the late 18th century digs you're still wearing, if you showed up in France. Or, you know, the underwear.

Meet the Drill Sergeant

There is the echoing sound of hooves, and a strange creature emerges from a nearby room: a centaur. He smiles kindly, happy to see you've arrived. He has a significant limp in his back left leg, causing his hoof-beats to pitch an irregular rhythm as he walks slowly through the hall.

"Hello, all!" His voice is kind, but it's pitched to carry. "You may know me as Sergeant-- I am in technicality a drill sergeant. You may call me Chiron, if you wish, though I'm to understand some may know others with the same name." He laughs, amused. "In any case, welcome home. It is not much, but we have tried to make it hospitable for you in your time here. Your room assignments have been uploaded onto your BCEs, along with some technological upgrades we've been testing out. There are a few prototypes and experiments you may find in your rooms as well. Our agents are..." He looks up at the crows. "We are a curious people."

He looks over to the table stacked with clothing. "Please pick out what suits you, and make adjustments as needed. If you have any complaints, and wish to change your rooming situation, your username, anything of that nature, please send me a request. I am also known in some capacity as a trainer-"

One of the crows caws, and it sounds almost sarcastic.

Sergeant Chiron ignores it. "Hm. If you wish for me to make a training regiment for you, to better your skill in this organization, please let me know. But for now: I am to understand your last mission was... tumultuous. Please, rest and acclimate yourself to BASE."

He turns to leave, before stopping-- "And please be kind to the crows. They remember slights."

The crows' cawing sounds like laughter.

HOTSPOTS

There's been some technical difficulty since the prognosticators had their little meltdown. Coolant is in short supply, and some of the corridors of BASE are a little warmer than others. Pleasantly warm. Comfortably so, like walking through a sunbeam. In these hotspots, it feels comfortable and snug.

Characters walking through them will feel the urge to lie down and rest, maybe take a quick little nap.

Sleeping in these spots will cause unsettling or confusing dreams, but not nightmares. Dreams in these hotspots-- and sleeping in these hotspots will never be dreamless-- will be hard to remember upon waking, but they seemed very... strange. Almost as though you were intruding on something important but private.

Yet you can't quite remember it when you wake.

If you're clever and watchful, you'll notice the crows avoid these areas, so you can avoid them as well before you're seized by the urge to lie down and nap.

Particularly watchful characters may notice the hotspots are growing in size and number as the days wear on.

(More information about these and the forthcoming December plot will be coming in an infopost on the 12th, but if you have any questions now, feel free to ask here!)

read the base setting infopage

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah, I know, I just haven't ever talked about it with someone who actually was. I didn't expect it, that's all. [ god help him ]

And no, Luna's my-- [ What? Even saying her name makes him feel uncomfortable, guilty, worried about her safety while he himself is standing here doing this. ]

Friend. Fiancée. [ both ]

[You probably have sounds overly cocky, so he just shrugs. Noctis is... awkward, but he doesn't seem, you know, homophobic. So that's... nice?]

[Whatever. He keeps cutting the eel.]

I'm not exactly an expert, but I've heard there's generally a stage between those two.

[ The shrug brings with it a little self-doubt as he looks over at Midnighter, wondering if he said something wrong... but so far it seems okay. ]

... haven't seen her in person in about twelve years. It's arranged.

I don't know if both of these eels are gonna' fit.

[Arranged marriages, he's heard of that before. He thinks on television. It's probably normal to some people, wherever Noctis is from. There's no point in making a big deal about it anyway; the less Midnighter thinks about where this kid sticks his dick, the better.]

[So he just sighs and chops the eel in half with a loud thwack.]

It will now.

[ He looks down at the even more abused eel, only able to hope that this won't somehow affect the cooking as he reaches for one solid half of it to rinse. ]

Yeah, says you... Guess they shrink when they cook, though.

... did you ever actually get married? You seem like that age.

[Midnighter, standing in a kitchen he barely understands, covered in eel guts, holding a bloody knife, looks down at Noctis.]

Not really marriage material.

[He said his ex, Noctis.]

[ Also covered in eel guts, almost equally out of his depth, he looks up at Midnighter, then down in a full once-over. ]

No clue what you're talking about. [ A straight-faced joke he almost gets through without cracking a smirk, but it's just barely there when he turns back to his task. ]

[Midnighter's lip twitches as well. He puts the knife down, and reaches for Noctis, grabbing him to deliver a (very light) noogie, eel guts and all.] You're pretty fucking clueless, huh! [His voice is terribly fond.]

[ He sees that arm coming a second too late to dodge it, guard very much lowered in this particular situation. Is it unwise to trust people here so quickly? Probably, but he's still not used to life without guards around him twenty-four/seven. ]

Get-- off! I take it back, you don't have any redeeming qualities. I completely get it. [ With knuckles moving to dig into Midnighter's side, his voice nearly breaking in its attempt to stay stern and irritated. ]

[Midnighter laughs, raucous.] There we go! The truth comes out! [He lets Noctis go.] Is the oven done? Go take your shower or whatever, the eels'll be done by the time you get out.

[How long does it take to cook eels? How long will this shower take? Who knows! Midnighter's winging it.]

[ He might be let go but his assault isn't over, bending just to ruffle his hair and flick eel bits in Midnighter's general direction.

He is going to need at least two showers, forget just one. ]

You're just making that up; you have no idea if that's true... Do you know what kind of crazy lecture I got on the BCE when I was asking about this? Apparently I have to stand over the oven and stare to make sure they don't over-cook.

... burn, I mean.

Ohh, so, if you're the expert, you watch, and I'll shower. [He grins, still terribly fond of this kid. This... this whole COST thing could get dangerous. It's good Midnighter met him.] What'd you learn on the network?

I should put you in the oven... Whatever, sure, go shower. Then you can come back and tell me if there's anybody in there.

[ He prefers to handle all of his nude affairs entirely solo, tyvm. ]

I learned how to broil eels; that's mostly all I got before I started getting insulted. [ Here he is actually finally putting the pan in the oven, however, leaving the door just barely cracked as instructed. ]

Who was giving you shit? [Do I have to beat them up wait no probably it's best he gets the dragged, that's what the internet is for. Midnighter shakes his head.] Yeah, I'll throw out these fucking clothes. And there's always somebody in there, it's communal.

[He's snuck into enough gym bathrooms in his time not to give a shit. At least these showers have individual privacy pods.]

Don't attack anybody that still told me how to cook an eel. [ Yeah. You're transparent. Noctis's eyes narrow as he peers within the oven, taking a moment to realize that it has a light. Oh. Helpful. ]

Watch out for that Rider guy, then. He's the one I'd justify hitting again... Guy doesn't understand personal boundaries.

Deal.

[Whatever, dude.]

You wanna give me more identifying characteristics?

[Who else is going to end up on his shitlist today?]

You don't know him? Green hair. Tallish. [ Surely this on its own is enough. ]

He's pushing for a fight with me soon because I accidentally punched him off of a roof; maybe it'll calm him down. [ ... ] It's stupid.

[Midnighter squints. Green hair is hard to forget, and Midnighter has an excellent memory (thanks computer).] I think I met him, yeah. Back in fucking Jerusalem.

[He shakes his head.] Think you can take him? [He's offering to be backup, or a second, whatever. He's pretty sure there isn't a threat out there he can't take.]

[ Noctis folds his arms as he checks a hip against the counter, eyes still focused on the oven but it's clear he's distracted now. ]

... Yeah. [ Finally. ] I think I'm a hell of a lot stronger than he thinks I am. As long as he doesn't say or do anything weird to throw me off... but I don't think he's looking for a fight to the death anyway. [ A pause. ]

Why, you worried?

Say anything weird...? [Suspicion mounting...] If you need backup, lemme know. Kicking in prick's faces is kinda my thing. If you say you can handle it, you can, whatever.

[Shrug, like he doesn't care.]

[ what is this tsundere bullshit ]

He makes jokes that he thinks are funny but they're not. That's what's "weird". But if I lose to him then I've got a long way to go towards where I need to be anyway. Ahh... I'd get yelled at back home... [ Joy of joys. ]

Besides, he said something about only certain people being able to hurt him. [ You're welcome, Achilles, don't tell him your secrets. ]

[HE'S TRYING TO GIVE YOU SPACE!!!!]

One of those people is me. [He sure knows how to boast.] Fighting for people who can't is what I do at home. Not saying you can't, but I don't mind lending a hand.

[ GIVE UP, I'M ALL IN THIS CR ]

Ah.

... wait, you have divine powers? [ Just... pressing pause on the rest of that. ]

[Midnighter cracks up.]

No, that was my ex. [Now he's just making jokes at Andrew's expense. Not that Andrew would have minded that one, he thinks. But anyway-] Look, [he taps his temple,] computer in the brain, right? I'm made for fights. I see the outcome of everything. Every fight. Every weak point. I know the end before it starts.

I don't lose.

[Aside from that whole Afterthought thing, but he's still pointedly not thinking about that, shh.]

Yeah, I got that part. As much as I can, anyway. [ He'll allow that there's a hell of a lot about Midnighter that he doesn't understand yet and probably never will, not about to assume otherwise. ]

But if someone's invulnerable to what you can do, how does knowing that help you win? Did you take him down before? I don't think he's my enemy, I just have a bone to pick... and I don't care if that means knowing more of his weaknesses ahead of time. [ no shame ]

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