all this energy calling me

[agogemod]

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

Comments

god this is sad

[fessus]

[ This is actually starting to climb his list of craziest weeks and that's a steep list to surmount, especially recently. When the message comes about their imminent deployment he's unsure of what to expect, any conjured ideas dashed by the reality of that full-body humming and universal shift. Maybe at least something better would be waiting on the other side... ]

[A. - Hemming]

[ No, something better wasn't waiting. He decides that not even when he gets a chance to look around and instead when he sees what exactly he's meant to wear. Pre-worn. Ratty. Not very stylish...

That's why he can be found sitting sidewise, straddling one of the benches in the mess hall as he literally works to cut through the material of the pair of pants he was given, trying to shorten them to something he considers cooler. No puns intended. He is a disaster. ]

[B. - Goodnight Moon]

[ Hotspots around base, meant to lure passersby into self-indulgent naps?

Noctis absolutely didn't require any further motivation to catch up on his beauty sleep but the second he steps into any of those corridors, unavoided every time because he simply doesn't learn, it'll be a good thirty seconds before he's curled up on the floor, sprawled out, or otherwise just generally incapacitated by his ever-growing need to not be conscious.

He will be anywhere and everywhere, godspeed. ]

[C. - Network]

@ALL

Guess I should start by thanking the people that helped me out earlier, before we got here. You know who you are (and I know who you are too if you’re gonna complain about me using @all again, just keep scrolling).

But I wanted to ask if anybody knows if there’s more people here who aren’t on the username list. I can pm names if you want specifics.

Also is the oven temperature in Fahrenheit or Celsius? What’s “broil” mean? I’ll trade some fabric for some potato chips if anyone has any.

[ one hour later, another @all message ]

How much soap do you use for the laundry machine? Does hand soap work?

[ five minutes later, same deal ]

What are delicates?

[D. - OPEN]

[ wildcard option! ]

b.

[thingpuncher]

[The first time Midnighter wanders into a hotspot (a place free of birds, thank fuck), he feels sleepy, which is weird. Midnighter almost never needs to sleep, and he rarely feels tired unless the shit's just been kicked out of him. Which it hasn't, so. Note to self, avoid.]

[He also notices a kid snoring in a corner, but that's his problem.]

[The second time, he needs to go through a hotspot to get to something on the other side (is that a gym? He's gonna beat somebody's ass in ping pong, he can just taste it), so he runs through quickly. And he notices that same kid, now in a different hotspot.]

[Fucking weird.]

[The third time... this is ridiculous. He stops just long enough to grab the kid's ankle, and begin to drag him bodily out of the radius of cloying warmth. Fucking idiot, but the kid's clearly young, and whatever this warm sleepy crap is, it makes Midnighter's bullshit senses tingle. Doing him a favor, here.]

let him die, m

[fessus]

[ Every nap meets its end with the nagging feeling that he's somewhere he definitely shouldn't be, but that's something Noctis can write off for three reasons. One, weird dreams are the norm for him and thus waking up mildly uncomfortable is too. Two, he is somewhere he shouldn't be, so fair enough. And three...

He really fuckin' loves naps.

He's dedicated to his craft, honestly, which is why when he's bodily dragged out of the hallway with the full-on effect of his seemingly lifeless self squeaking against the metal flooring he still doesn't wake. No. He just stays sprawled on the ground, undignified. ]

@BURGERKING

[dipolar]

(three messages in the span of— how long? not long enough, apparently, his bce giving him a push notification that blips at the corner of his vision. has to firmly pinch at the bridge of his nose until it aches in order to tear himself away from a porthole enough to answer at least one.

all from the same idiot.)

Stop.

1/2

[fessus]

[ ............. ]

2/2

[fessus]

Burger King lmao

A

[horsepowered]

[Chiron's clothing quest is almost at an end, as he's found trousers that fit, a shirt with broad enough shoulders, and boots that have seen little wear and tear. The only issue that he takes is the tears in the pants, as the torn up style does not suit him.

At seeing Noctis working, he asks:]

Where did you find the sewing supplies?

[fessus]

[ Ah... He hadn't expected to be disturbed, head lifting with an inquisitive squint up at the newcomer. Then a glance back down to the dagger he's currently using to hack at the pair of pants in question. "Sewing supplies" is generous. ]

Ah... Back in that place we were at before. France.

... do we know each other?

C, @ALKOHEIST

[frogfractions]

Lingerie.

[There's a one, two-minute pause.]

Cashmere sweaters, probably. Anything that feels delicate to the touch, basically. Self-evidently.

How much soap depends on what you're washing. Just the clothes we've been given?

@NIGHTLIGHT

[fessus]

[ ... okay, he wants to un-know this information. That's so embarrassing... ]

Wow. [ First of all. ]

I wanna know all the settings if I'm gonna be washing a lot more stuff soon.

@JUGGALO

[masque]

ohhh my god.

@NIGHTLIGHT

[fessus]

Don't troll me if you're thinking about starting, there's a lot of buttons to deal with on these.

Juggalo.

@SUBUBI

[excelsus]

If you mean the mountain of shabby rags we've been gifted? It would behoove you to think of everything as dedicates.

@NIGHTLIGHT

[fessus]

[ Oh thank god, someone with taste. ]

They're so cheap... You'd think there'd be something a little better if this is a big organization.

c, @moderatus | you know what's sadder: this

[bloodings]

they have machines for doing laundry?

@NIGHTLIGHT thank god he feels less alone

[fessus]

What, you don't even know that?

[ Let me lord this over you even though I have no idea what I'm doing. ]

a

[handsomefoil]

[ Henry isn't into the ragged look either, but he doesn't care at the moment. They're clean and that's all that matters. He'll worry about hemming and stuff once he's taken a proper shower. Before he can leave though, he does catch a guy hunched over some pants with some sewing equipment. Huh, wonder where he got something like that?

Regardless, he watches him hem with some intensity, unsure about his technique. This must be rectified. ]

Sorry to intrude on your work like this but, have you any skill with alterations?

[fessus]

[ I am so sorry that you have to bear witness to this.

There is definitely little skill involved here, just a determined young man with a true love of fashion butchering a pair of cheap pants in the idle vain hope that they'll turn into something better. Maybe he can even start a trend. Maybe. ]

Alterations? [ Ah. Hm. ]

... what're you trying to alter?

B

[ryuji]

[He looks up to the ceiling, and looking back at him is a crow, its gaze fixed so tightly on him, that is has him turning as he starts to walk backward. It's not moving, just... watching him, almost like there was a keen warning in its circumspection. He probably should heed, but it's missed on someone like Ryuji. Two more steps backward and he starts to feel especially heavy-

Fuck, this has happened before.

And it wasn't what he expected the first time.

And the second time?

He trips over Noctis' outspread leg. WHO THE FUCK JUST SLEEPS IN THE HALLWAY LIKE THIS?]

who dares interrupt my kingly slumber

[fessus]

[ This is easily the best part about this base so far, and by extension the best part about being dragged into all of this mess with COST in the first place. He might not remember signing up and he might be plagued with constant worries about his missing comrades during every wakeful moment, but the warmth of these corridors erases those concerns. It allows him peace and blessed, needed sleep.

So when Ryuji trips over him he hardly even budges, brow furrowing in rebellion against consciousness as he stretches... and then curls forward to get more comfortable, perfectly content to loop an arm around one of Ryuji's legs in return.

Perfect. Maximum comfort achieved... on a fUCKING FLOOR. ]

staring at that (d)

[trample]

God, you are indecisive.

[ Eren swears this kid must have been faffing around for no less than half an hour. He could have done his whole routine about half a dozen times in what it takes this kid just to get started. And that was with his leg missing. Now that it's back there, he's not sure what excuse to make, and his expression says as much.

So, lowering the straight razor that was just about to touch ground on his skin (you blew it Noct, he was finally going to get rid of it), he continues in a voice that's low-key irritated: ]

What, you got some aversion to having company when you're doing your business? Get used to it. This is your life from now on.

[chariotry]

[ Meanwhile, Achilles is using one of the shower stalls in the background, washing his sexy bod.

He will ruin this thread later.

With his dick out. ]

this is so incredible

[fessus]

[ He has, in fact, been trapped in here for some time now, a victim of his own modesty and vanity at the same time. Showering in front of others? No, thank you. Undressing in front of them at all? Also a no, which means he'd waited around for the place to empty out before hurriedly getting cleaned up, unwilling to risk an Incident.

But now he's here having to share the sink area with... this... guy. Something that might be tolerable if he had his products from home to make this a relatively painless process; instead he's having to work out if there's any way he can use shaving cream as hair mousse.

No. Probably not. ]

I am used to it, oi... You just keeping bumping my elbow. [ No. No, he's not used to it. ]

c ( @brunnhilde )

[heilt]

Would you like some assistance?

@NIGHTLIGHT

[fessus]

With those questions yeah, I just think it'd save time probably.