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Entry tags:
- * dreamy,
- * npc: agent young,
- * npc: commander grothia,
- * npc: sergeant chiron,
- * setting: base,
- achilles [fate],
- akira kurusu [persona],
- arthur [inception],
- ashitaka [princess mononoke],
- daenerys targaryen [asoiaf],
- hei [darker than black],
- henry cooldown [no more heroes],
- keyleth [dungeons & dragons],
- kylar stern [the night angel trilogy],
- mordred [fate],
- noctis lucis caelum [final fantasy],
- ryuji sakamoto [persona],
- siegfried [fate],
- soldier 76 [overwatch],
- travis touchdown [no more heroes],
- yoshitsugu otani [samurai warriors]
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.
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
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
no subject
no subject
What?
(only one person can kill him? thinks back to achilles, his invulnerability, and exhales the breath that's been sitting in his lungs for far too long. it's possible, of course anything is now, but he can't be that reliable. he doesn't trust something like that, especially when it could mean trouble for him.
shakes his head, dragging the hand down his face.)
Forget it. You've confirmed what I needed to know.
no subject
Just for the record, I'd suggest not looking out the window any more than necessary. It could be they cause hallucinations, not, you know. Tapping us into another plane of existence, or whatever.
no subject
the suggestions, however, actually manage to get a quiet sniff out of him.)
Noted.
(and there's that telltale pause, obviously weighing something in his head.)
...
Thanks.
no subject
No problem. Like I said, it's my job. [He looks the guy over.] You got a name to go with all that smolder?
no subject
Hei.
(a bare motion towards him with an open palm, clearly wanting a trade.)
You're... (he starts, refusing to take a stab at a guessing game he already knows — and refuses to voice — the answer to.) What, exactly, do you do?
no subject
[He grins that same eerie grin.]
But only for justice.
[He knows how it sounds, ridiculous and over the top, which is exactly why he puts it that way. It's all that he is, all that he's good for, his purpose. He's not like normal people, and pretending otherwise is fucking stupid.]
no subject
he's met people who tiptoe that line. everyone who kills believes they have a reason, even when the reason is that they don't. it's refreshing to hear it said aloud, though, announced the way that it is.)
Hm. Justice isn't something I pretend to understand. (killer two looks at killer one and decides there's only really one thing to ask after the reveal:) What's your name?
no subject
[He's grinning, it's obviously (he hopes) a joke. Justice is a fickle, confusing thing; he doesn't pretend to understand all its nuances. He just sticks to the simple shit: When somebody hurts someone, they deserve to pay.]
And it's Midnighter. Or M, if you want.
no subject
(don't touch your bangs. don't touch your bangs. raises a hand like he's going to touch his bangs and curls his fingers into a fist instead. right, a joke. he gets it, despite the perpetually somber eeyore stare.)
M, then. (the simpler the better; he likes one syllable names.
a shift towards him and away from the wall, in far better straits than he was. he hates to think it, but it's helped out. talking to this guy.)
Is it wise to tell others? What we felt?
no subject
I'm sorry, can you rephrase that so it sounds less like we're in a romance novel?
1/2
2/2
This situation is serious. It might cause a panic on the ship, what we felt from looking out the window.
(he really rephrased it, though.)
no subject
[Midnighter puts a heavy hand on Hei's shoulder.] It'll be okay. Trust me.
[Like he's remotely reassuring. Look, he's trying, here, so you gotta try too, you big weirdo.] And I don't think people'd believe us if we tried to tell them. People don't want to believe they're in trouble if they can help it. We'll both keep an eye out and be careful. I think it'll be enough.
[His computer isn't picking anything up, anyway.]
no subject
Understood. (a detached reply for all he's accidentally parted with, trying to mimic the calm m shows.
why couldn't he ever get this part right? always ends up sounding like a robot or a tool or a robot tool.)
I suppose I signed up for this, just as you did... I'll follow my orders and take care of my responsibilities.
no subject
You do you. If you need me, the name they gave me on the net is 'trentcoat'. Like... trench coat, but with a 'T'. [He cringes slightly. Fuck, he hates that stupid thing.]
no subject
(pauses in a reluctant silence.)
I... am "Burger King".
no subject
So keep in touch, your majesty.
no subject
... We'll see.
(a duck of his head, sparing the porthole one last glance, before moving to find whatever scraps of leftover clothing no one's picked through.)