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

[ Henry has some amount of patience. We'll just see how this pans out........ ]

Me? Oh, no. I have no need for alterations. I'm asking if you have any skill in it.

[ While he doesn't realize the guy doesn't know what he's asking him, he's this close to cracking his knuckles and doing it for him. He never had to fully tailor his own suits, but he watched a lot and had to mend things constantly so he learned a little here and there. ]

[ Bless you, Henry... I mean he's less trouble than Travis; is that at least a step in the right direction? ]

... [ Noctis stares at his work for a little longer before holding it up for inspection. It's awful. ] Can't be too hard. Think this speaks for itself.

[ It's definitely a start. Travis can't hem to save his life, that's for sure.

Henry tries his very best not to grimace disapprovingly at the hemming job. ]

It's not necessarily hard, no. Does take a little practice, which in time, you'll be able to do more than just haphazardly baste stitch fabric together.

[ Trying not to be too intrusive, he merely gestures at it from where he is like he wants to take the garment from him. ]

Do you mind?

Edited (redundancy) 2017-12-12 04:22 (UTC)

[ He feels as if he's getting politely dissed, much the way he would by a lecturer as a child -- someone hired by his father to try to knock some sense into him without actually being allowed to touch him. Noctis stares up at him for a moment or two longer before clicking his tongue, relinquishing the item with a raised hand and a glance away. ]

No, it's fine... Just don't go cutting it any shorter or anything. That's the length I was going for.

[ Your feelings are very correct. Henry is definitely politely dissing him like one would a child because he's kind of a dick. Pleased with the guy's compliance, he gingerly takes the fabric to examine the stitching before promptly taking it apart. ]

Your specifications are duly noted, even if I do not agree.

[ His tone is kind, if that helps. He doesn't take a seat but he holds the hem where Noctis had folded it, keeping it the length it had been at before. Quickly, he does a little top-stitching along the very edge of the original hemline to keep it in place. ]

Keep your line tight. With pants sporting thicker hems—denim in particular—keep the stitch snug right below the original hemline.

[ He gestures to it vaguely whether the guy is paying attention or not. ]

[ Noctis watches him closely... and even sits up a little straighter when Henry almost immediately begins to dismantle his efforts. ]

Oi... [ But he pipes down quickly, at least aware enough of the fact that nearly anyone is more likely to have more experience with this than he does. So he instead watches this man as he starts to do a far better job than Noctis had whlie not even sitting.

Ouch. ]

Ah. ... Hemline? Got it... I didn't know the names for anything, I just wanted to have them sit higher. That way I can pair them with boots. [ Don't ask about his fashion. ]

[ Don't worry Noctis, Henry isn't hemming the whole thing for him. He's only able to do what he did standing up because it's just a few stitches to get him started. Being done by hand, his isn't perfect but they're small and keep the fabric well in place. ]

That's fine, the hemline is just the edge on a piece of clothing. Neck hole, arm holes, leg holes... the edges are called hemlines, though they're not limited to just those three.

[ A beat, after glancing down at Noctis's boots. He's gonna ask. ]

Can't just wear the boots over the pants? Hemming it short and wearing boots give your leg a sort of disconnected appearance, does it not?

[ He's disinterested in what he's being taught but he retains his focus through effort, appreciative of Henry's time even if a lifetime of instant gratification has made him... well... "Spoiled" might be harsh considering how far he's come recently, but this is definitely outside of his realm. ]

Mm. Thanks. [ And he's sincere, certainly, trying to envision how the rest will go... and then he's getting fashion tips. ]

... I know what I'm doing. That's the style in Insomnia, where I'm from. At least if you can afford it... I don't have to dress formally all the time yet or anything. [ Sometimes I wear a moogle hat, no man controls me. ]

[ Well, he can't blame him. It's an incredibly boring subject, especially if it's usually something that somebody else can just do for you. Henry wouldn't do this shit himself if he didn't have to, that's for sure.

He grins slightly. Guess he should've figured the guy had his own sense of fashion and was probably of some otherworldly and ~~JRPG nonsense~~ foreign place. Can't knock it until he sees it around. ]

Alright, then as you were.

[ He sticks the needle through a folded portion of fabric to keep it in place and hands it back to him. After a beat, whether Noctis takes it or not, he asks: ]

You lived in a place called Insomnia?

[ He certainly does take it, though once it's in his hands he feels that perhaps his assumption that this would be incredibly easy is a bit... misguided. It'd certainly felt easy when Henry was holding it. ]

I guess no one here's heard of it. [ Which he says a tone that's a lot more airy than he feels. ]

Yeah, though. My whole life. [ ... ] You're allowed to sit; I don't own this spot.

[ also Insomnia is not worse than Santa Destroy ]

[ Funny how that works, eh kid...

He looks at the spot on the bench, wondering if he looked like he was waiting for an invitation or something. The idea had been to just walk away, but he's been finding that harder to do when every individual on this ship is actually really interesting? And come from different worlds?? How could he just walk away right...

So, he just shrugs and sits. ]

Thanks.

[ And Santa Destroy is definitely worse. He'd agree wholeheartedly. ]

You're not alone in that boat, at least. From the looks of it, people are either from a variation of another each other's worlds or from completely different ones altogether. Didn't think that shite was possible.

[ Oh prepare to get your mind blown by how riveting this perpetually tired plank is, Henry, get ready for a waterfall of intellectual discourse on Audis and Cup Noodle. ]

Yeah. Me neither.

Maybe other variations... but that didn't come up much in school. It's all theoretical, so it gets boring. [ "Boring" probably isn't the word that most people would use, particularly in a situation like this where those past lectures are gaining some serious validity. ]

Part of me thinks it's still a dream. That I'm gonna' wake up any minute... But if it were a dream then this sewing would probably be easy now.

[ They...........may be interesting in their own unique little ways. Who knows!! He might just indulge him in a conversation about Audis and Cup Noodle! ]

Aye, that's the thing about dreams... you just never really know. Guess part of me thought the same thing too. [ Then again, he's had some really fucked up dreams before so he likes to think he can finally tell the difference. ]

Not so boring now though, is it?

I don't think it really is one. [ After a moment of deliberation, walking back his previous statement. ]

Guess more like... it'd be easier if it were. [ That's an understatement; he spent far too long preparing for what he had to do in his own world for it to now be somehow irrelevant. But he shakes himself from the thought before he ends up any further down that particular rabbit hole. ]

It's still boring. [ NICE TRY ] Did you study this kind of stuff or something?

[ He resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course it would be easier. Then he just lets his eyes roll now as Noctis proves him wrong. Maybe he's not as interesting as he'd hoped him to be, but perhaps that's just Henry setting his standards a little high.

~~People aren't zoo animals you jackass~~ ]

I didn't, but I enjoy sci-fi. It's always been fascinating to me, the idea of an alternate universe.

[ He's staring down at the pants he's still not feeling very confident in modifying, quiet for a moment or two as he deliberates. ]

... yeah, I get it a little. [ Finally, a concession. ] But the reality that I was in is the one that mattered to me. There were a lot of problems, I guess, but I had the life I wanted and the people around me that I wanted. Makes being here feel like a huge mistake on somebody's part. Apparently mine. [ Not that he remembers. ]

[ He always did admire those who were very down to Earth. At least they're understanding each other. Also noticing a disturbing trend of more people not remembering their decision to join. ]

Mn, can't say I recall my answer to the call, either. [ His bet's on coercion, blackmail or kidnapping, where then that memory was wiped clean. ] It's all speculation at this point, but perhaps you joined on behalf of and to preserve those people and the life that you wanted? Just a thought.

Mm. Yeah. Considered that already. [ He's simple and ignorant but he's not entirely without any intellectual merit whatsoever, thank god. And when it comes to his thoughts as of late? Well, a good number of them have centered around his suspicions towards COST. ]

When I ask for details I just get general answers, though. Kinda' would make it easier to swallow if they had any specifics to give me. I'd do whatever I had to for where I came from but I was already doing that.

[ He just nods along with him. Guess that would've been the most obvious conclusion. ]

Guess it looks like we'll just have to tag along for the ride and hope they'll tell us something. A great foundation for a group of randomly selected persons, eh?

[ Then he looks down at the neglected pair of pants. ]

Give those here.

Wouldn't be my first choice. [ The order has him glancing back up, however, seeming a little taken aback at first if his hesitation is anything to go by.

Should he try to do it himself? Yeah, probably; he's going to have to learn self-sufficiency via trial by fire out here. But... well, the extra help is appreciated. So he acquiesces, holding them out. ]

--ah, I never got your name.

[ Henry's teaching style would lie somewhere between "do as I do" or "do it yourself/look it up", and in this case he's leaning more towards the first. So as Noctis hands them over, he begins to stitch as he talks. Carefully, but not so slow, either. It won't be as perfect, but eh, he'll be fine. ]

Henry. Yours?

[ Noctis cranes his neck in what's a less than dignified manner so he can get a good look at what Henry's doing, curiosity getting the better of him. It's easier to imagine at this angle, anyway, fingers twitching like he might mimic the movements. ]

Ah... Noctis. Noctis Lucis Caelum. Where I come from it's normal. [ JUST... GETTING AHEAD OF THAT ]

[ He notices Noctis's attempts to watch and adjusts the garment a little across his knee. It's not done so obviously, but at least the guy will notice that he won't have such a crick in his neck afterwards. ]

I wasn't going to say anything.

[ Glances at him from the corner of his eye, humor in his tone. But he can see why he'd like to get that out of the way first. Henry has literally no room to talk, even without the wacky last name. Being from Ireland, he's seen plenty of names that may even bear some resemblance to Noctis's. His surname, at least. Not so sure about "Noctis", though. ]

Caelum's your family name, then? A rather handsome sounding one, I think.

[ And now stitched about halfway around the leg hole... ]

[ Bless you, Henry.

Noctis's posture eases up as he's offered a better view, content to observe from this new angle and trying to focus enough to actually commit what he sees to memory. ]

--Hah? [ The compliment has him looking up, distracted from a crucial stitch he would've benefited from witnessing. Alas. ]

Oh. Yeah, thanks... "Henry"'s pretty good too. But both parts are the family name -- my dad was a "Lucis Caelum" too. The hundred-thirteenth one, so I get to be one-fourteen.

[ He grins, chuckling softly under his breath at the returned compliment. 'Henry' is not exactly the most popular or modern name where he's from, but it wasn't terrible either, so usually it's not something he expects a compliment on...

Not looking up from his work, he hums in interest. That's.... a lot of generations. ]

That's quite a recorded history you've got there. I don't even know my own folks' names much less how far it goes back.

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bullshits thru stitching knowledge

all i read is perfection

♥

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