Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three.
We do not merely destroy our enemies;
we change them.
WELCOME TO THE END OF TIME.
The Regency has its spies and its cloaks and daggers. You may have even brushed shoulders with one and not have known it. There is a place for such tactics. You are not in that place any longer.

On missions like these, the Regency prefers to keep its base close, in a intradimensional time pocket. You're apart from Gallipoli, no longer technically on Earth or in the 1910s. There are multiple segments to this complex base of Regency operations, but you can only really see two places...
THE BRIG
This is your holding cell, a constantly shifting room of indesctructable grey squares. It folds and bends to hold you and your seven companions as you await... something.
There are no guards in this place. There are no bars to look through, or sounds to listen for. You are simply in the box, left to your own devices.
Occasionally, holes will open in the ceiling, and packaged, processed rations will fall from them before immediately closing. This is the only way to measure time. There are always exactly eight bags, each with the name of one captive written on the side in their native language.
Holes will occasionally open in the walls, and they always bring with them a searingly bright light. Sleeping and sitting is difficult on the ever-shifting floors, and when you try, it always seems like a pinhole of light opens right on your eyes. Even leaning on the walls has mixed results.
DON'T GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT
The windows of light that open always stay very small, making it difficult to look through, and always pour radiantly bright, hot light. If you're feeling particularly self-punishing, you might be able to peek at an odd angle and see something of the world outside without being completely flashblinded. The world outside the Brig looks rather like the interior of a Dyson sphere. In the center, a great, bright, hot energy radiates out like a sun, and it reflects off the exterior globe the pocket dimension functions within, illuminating everything from every angle. The Brig floats around it in a slow orbit, as do many other similar looking box-rooms made of similar material, connected by constantly moving tubes and chutes. Some boxes have more chutes going toward them than others. No chutes connect to the Brig, unless someone is about to disappear into the floor...
Getting this view will be difficult, but not impossible; it will just take characters willing to blind themselves with an overabundance of light multiple times until they get the correct angle, allowing them to see outside for roughly a half second before the room shifts to redirect the light back into their eyes.
not so solitary confinement
Occasionally, the cube will split into smaller segments, throwing characters together with others at random in close confinement. This is unpredictable and fast, splitting you off from the whole for what feels like hours at a time, often with only one companion as the cube shifts and squirms around you.
technical malfunction
The power nullification is still in full effect. No magic or special abilities rule this place. Your only master are the walls, undulating with no discernible pattern, always moving.
The Regency has also attempted to break the BCE's translation capabilities, but due to the fact that COST-jailbroken BCEs work on a different system than Regency ones, this is an intermittent problem that occurs sporadically. (ie, have the translation capabilities blink in and out at your discretion.)
THE OTHER PLACE
And then, suddenly, the floor drops out from underneath you. The shifting walls make a hole perfectly your shape and size, and sucks you through. The hole closes neatly, immediately, and you slide along in a world of boxes pressing close to your skin as you are moved from one holding area to another.
When you emerge, you do so in total darkness. Power nullification is still in effect, but even if you can naturally see in the dark, it doesn't matter. All you can see is an endless blackness, and walking doesn't help. You can keep walking for however long; there is nothing to walk to. The floor is perfectly level, but you'll never reach a wall.
Finally, there's light in the distance. A spotlight from nowhere shines down on a person with the head of a jackal. Looking closer, you'll find it's some kind of highly technical mask. They are wearing armor that obscures their exact shape-- no skin shows, no hint of identity or personality, just the cold eyes of the mask. They turn to you, and speak in a voice clear and soothing, almost gentle.
"I am Kebechet. I have been looking forward to speaking with you."
THE OTHER PLACE.
torture threadintroduction to the Regency!]action for you
The second he gets his feet under him he's lowering his gaze, fingers flexing in the blackness but he can't see them -- that alone unnerves him. There's nothing for him to take in, not from his surroundings or even of himself, until the illumination of a figure distant from him. He takes a half-step back instinctually, immediately associating this person -- is that the right word? -- with those he's now already faced.
Strong. It's the only thing that keeps him from darting into an unwise attack right off the bat.
"What the fuck do you want?"
thanks friend.
Their voice can still be heard: "Would you prefer to be alone?"
any time <3
Re: any time <3
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just fuck me up
The shifting sensation of transit stops, and he is in darkness. He crouches low to the ground, unsure, eyes straining against the inky black but finding nothing, not even the dullest amount of light to go by. It is so starkly different than what they had faced within the cell, fighting against flashes of light so potent they seemed primed to blind. Though he cannot see, there is an atmospheric sense of scale to this place, particularly in comparison to the close quarters he had previously been in. He traces fingers across the floor, feeling only a smooth, unbroken surface.
There is nothing, so when the light finally appears in the distance, Ashitaka goes towards it. Even though it is clearly what is intended for him to do, refusing would only be a waste of time. He would prefer at least attempt to get some answers.
The strange dog-like mask that the figure wears is familiar to what he'd seen before, of the figures in and out of the mists around their position in Gallipoli. He approaches with hesitation, and though there is exhaustion written into his features, there's a sharpness and a clarity in his eyes that seems amiss among that.
The voice might be calm, but he is unsure. As strange as it was, he was blind here, in more ways than one. Whatever powers the Regency had effectively cut off his connection to his curse. He never thought he would miss such a thing, but it had proven useful occasionally, reacting to the anger and hatred of others.
For this moment, he decides to go along with it, testing, experimental.
"Kebechet," he is cautious with the syllables of the name, foreign to his own tongue, though his caution makes his recreation passable at best. Usually he would introduce himself, but he remembers how dangerous such a thing could be. He holds his tongue on this for now.
"I am here." He watches the masked figure, weighing each movement or lack thereof. "So let us speak."
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A forest springs up around them, endless and verdant. A moonless sky hangs above. The stars of a clear night bring with them a pleasant light, neither too bright or too soft. The air is cool and crisp, and the sounds of nature echo around them. A weight can be felt nudging into Ashitaka's back, and when he turns, he will find a red elk happy to see him.
Kebechet stays calm through it all, though they do admit, "I had wanted to see such a place. Thank you for allowing me."
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Pointless or not, she can't just sit still. In the dark, she stumbles around, shouting, reaching, looking for something (or someone) to grab hold of. To demand answers from. When the figure appears in the distance, her head whips around, and she glares. She's exhausted. She doesn't have her sword, her armour, or her Master. She's weak. Only a fool would pick a fight with an unknown enemy under such circumstances.
Mordred has always been foolish. Closing the distance between them with newfound energy, she bares her teeth in anger, taking a swing at Kebechet's mask-clad face.
"Bastard! You're gonna regret screwing with me!"
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Only then does Kebechet acknowledge Mordred. "I had hoped a prince would show princely manner." Disapproval mingles in that calm, cool voice
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There is absolutely nothing. It's near suffocating, far worse than the chamber she and her allies were kept in, with its blinding lights. At least she was able to see. In this place, wherever it is, it reminds her far too much of where she'd chained Rhaegal and Viserion. But they are not here, and she is alone.
I am the blood of the dragon.
Exhaustion nips at her heels, making dry and scratchy eyes all the heavier. It makes no difference how often she blinks, for the darkness doesn't subside... until it does, and a lone figure seems to peel away inky black edges after an unfathomable amount of time passes.
Kebechet.
Dragons know no fear.
"Forgive my manners, but yours is a name I've not heard before. If you'd wished for an audience, you needed only ask."
And spare her from such theatrics.
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She means the darts, btw. I CHOSE ONE lmao
UuU
\o/
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He had some idea as to what was coming, and without access to the Force it made him tense. The First Order employed similar tactics when they planned on interrogating a prisoner, after all. Anything that helped loosen their mind, make it easier to exploit, or easier for Kylo himself to take what he needed. Had he more energy he might've been angry about being on the wrong side of this exchange, but he at least had the confidence he could weather whatever they slung at him.
Walking proved to be the correct choice. He stopped when the light appeared, managing to keep himself from flinching away at its brightness. When he could make out the figure standing in the light, he straightened his back, shoulders squared. The jackal mask -- good. This was progress, even if they'd thrown him in a cage instead of just approaching him first. He couldn't exactly argue with their methods though, since he approved of them.
"Then speak," he said, raising his voice so it would carry.
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Broken arms, if there's anything on the way down to hit them against. She can feel the rough shapes of boxes, always boxes against her back and tries to focus on stillness, inside and out.
Without the Force she feels oddly like the scavenger from Jakku, the nobody she'd always been, and it feels freeing until she reaches for a staff that isn't on her back. Without the Force all she has is her hands, her feet, to fight back. It's not ideal, but she'll manage. She'll fight tooth and nail, she's been captured before, nothing could be worst than Kylo Ren and Snoke.
No staff, no Force. Nothing. a cruel little voice whispers in the back of her head, but she clenches her jaw and refuses to let doubt take hold. She's come too, too far.
And then the light overhead snaps on, she sees a man in a mask, and she feels cold all over. Her hands clench into fists and she stands her ground, silent, waiting. Whatever this is, whoever this thing is, she has no intention of giving them what they want.
They want to speak? She'll just keep her mouth shut, chin jutted stubbornly up like a dare to try to make her talk.
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oh I walked right into that didn't I
lil bit kinda.
tlj spoilers
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Noctis | FFXV
Noctis isn't sure himself how long it's been, now. Hours? Days? It's hard to keep track when his consciousness drifts for indistinguishable amounts of time, always dragged back into the moment by something jabbing into his side or a light piercing his eyes.
One of the only things that does break up the monotony? Any of the packages of food that shower down on top of them, and Noctis leans forward quick to grab the nearest one before turning to the person next to him.
"This one's... I think it's yours." Now to hope the BCEs are working well enough that he'll be understood.
II. Light
"Fuck--" The curse is tinged with his own frustration with himself and the sentiment behind it is a universal one as he drags himself abruptly away from one of the many holes offering them a view outside.
His hand is slapped over his eyes, at first, shielding them before he rubs at each individually in an attempt to ease the pain that staring too long at the overwhelming brightness outside had caused. He was sure he was close that time, too. Damn it.
"I... almost got a good angle; I think I saw something that time."
III. Separated
Noctis had actually been close to a rare moment of restfulness when it had happened. The floor beneath him had shifted and the walls had shrunk inward suddenly, causing him to scramble up into an upright position with palms flat against a moving ground. What space they'd had has now been decimated and he feels an immediate stab of worry for those they can't still see, trapped now with one other unfortunate prisoner.
"Hey!" he shouts at the wall, as if that'll somehow help or be heard. "Damn it... are you okay?" A quick shift of attention to the person with him, now.
iii
One of the few things he had learned about surviving in this prison was being successful in using your own body to block out the light, so that you could sleep. Ashitaka wasn't really sleeping when the transfer occurred; he had his back against one of the slowly-shifting walls, forehead resting on drawn-up knees, mostly conscious but in a form of half-rest.
And then the surroundings shift more than normal, angles warping and changing, inclines and declines appearing spontaneously in a way that in a single moment seals him off from the rest of the group in a way that was absolutely perfect. He can neither see nor hear any sign of them.
He does see and hear Noctis, however, as he shouts at the wall. But there's... something a little odd about it. For the most part he understands him—he's asking if he's alright, he's fairly certain—but most of it was through context and tone of voice. The words he was saying were odd. They sounded like something Ashitaka should be able to understand, but some of the verbage was off, inflections strange and bizarrely-paced.
After a short moment in which his expression is dominated by a puzzled look, he gives a slow nod. "Yes. You are unhurt as well?"
He speaks slowly, but let's just say to Noctis' ears, this will sound very antiquated. "One of those books you really hated your literature teacher for making you read" old, or perhaps a little worse.
yessss
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im so sorry, i lost this notif, feel free to ignore if this is too intense of a backtag!
iii
Well. Not push herself way from the wall. There isn't enough room to do that and not end up pressed right up against Noctis, so she just leans her head back against the lumpy wall and lets out an annoyed sigh.
"You'd think they'd get tired of this eventually and talk to us at least."
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3!
...leaving her in an enclosed space, bumping into another body as she fumbles for steady feet again. Irriella is quick to jump free from Dany's coat, skittering up the wall and closer to Dany's companion, who happens to be--
"Lady Mother," her spider clicks, "I am so hungry... May I feast on this one? Please?"
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we should make the BCE go on the fritz randomly 8D
ABSOLUTELY, this will be amazing
holy shit wording in that last tag was horrendous
all i see is beauty
the beauty of a hot mess?!
beauty's in the eye of the beholder, DON'T YOU LIMIT ME
!!!!!!!
this is embarrassing
totally awesome whatchu talkin bout
oh my
ii
even if Achilles isn't here. Mordred's tried looking, too, more out of boredom than anything else — and gave up just as quickly as she started. So when Noctis pulls back, she scoffs."You'll blind yourself, idiot." If he hasn't already. "There's nothing out there. Nothing useful, anyway."
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mordred
[ She doesn't eat, at first. Not because she isn't hungry — her stomach rumbles almost constantly, and she looks at the food with mild desperation. But she doesn't trust it. In her mind, she's still thinking of escape, not settling in for the long haul.
But everyone has their breaking point. Low on mana, with her connection to Ryuji severed, it's an issue of survival: without the food, she'll fade away, even before an ordinary human would starve. Even so, when she finally opens one of the bags, her nose crinkles in annoyance. ]
Ugh... what the hell is this crap? [ She'll still eat it, of course. But she'll complain the whole time. ]
ii. the sequel.
[ ... At least until the next rations drop down. With no shame, she looks at whoever she's stuck with and reaches for their bag. ]
Give me yours, too. I'm hungry.
iii. the walls are closing in.
[ It's not the first time the cubes have shifted, and it won't be the last. This time, though, it's a particularly violent adjustment — Mordred ends up pushed into a corner, with someone else pressed against her. With an annoyed grunt, she shoves, hard. ]
Hey, don't touch me! Are you trying to get hit? [ It wasn't their fault, obviously, but she's even more moody than usual. And that's saying something. ]
...ii...
The rations that had dropped down for him were... well, he isn't quite certain what they are. They were like some sort of crumbled granola, but he personally didn't have any words to describe that. There was a decent amount of them in the bag, though, and he couldn't really say he was hungry. Nerves tended to interfere with that sort of thing.]
We shall split this. Is that acceptable?
[Regardless, he is offering the sealed package to her. A gesture of good faith.]
poor ashitaka.............
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i
The Jedi are doomed if she can't learn how to think outside of herself, after all.
Still, if Mordred is going to complain...]
Give it to me if you don't want it.
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rey please
3...ish
The shove achieves very little, except annoy Dany and leave her arm aching from the force of it. ]
Be quiet, [ she snaps. ] Between you and Kylo, I feel as if I might go as mad as my father.
[ That is not a joke. She's entirely serious. There was a good period of time where she was sorely tempted to light the entire room on fire, allies and all.
Shifting as best she can, careful not to hostile Irriella, she leans back against the cubes. ]
We cannot let this continue.
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WOW THIS IS LATE AS FUCK FORGIVE ME
:*
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Rey | Star Wars | prose or brackets are both fine with me!
Every time the rations fall, Rey is on her feet to sort through them and find hers.
Every time, it's a conscious effort not to just take everything, every single package, and keep all the food to herself.
She's afraid, is all, that one of these times the food won't come, that they'll be starved, and her last meal will be the only thing she's ever eaten.
Prepackaged sludge in plastic. It's all she's ever known and she eats it now like it's some kind of gift, the best thing she's ever had. Her manners are... well, not disgusting, but she eats with her hands without any kind of shame when the contents of the packages are solid enough and sucks down the liquids. In all it takes her a matter of minutes to eat, and when she finishes she sits her empty packages aside, neatly, like she's afraid to make the space dirty.
She feels like a caged animal, but in the end isn't that exactly what they are?
[Close Confinement]
If the way the food is metered out is bad, the random shifts in gravity and finding herself trapped in too close quarters with someone else is worse. She's not a huge fan of a lot of contact on a good day, but this whole thing is bringing back memories she doesn't want that are only compounded by the presence of one of the other captives.
Everything about this is too familiar, but being cut off from the rest of the group, dropped into another smaller cube, that at least is new.
Bad new, but different enough to not feel so hopeless. This time the chute opens and she tumbles through and lands with a huff of breath, a pained little groan.
Maybe she lands on you, or you land on her. Either way, there isn't far to go, no real escape from the press of bodies, and she just leans her head back as far as she can and lets out an annoyed sounding growl.
"This doesn't last forever," she mutters, severely unhappy. "Just- don't move."
Don't wriggle around and make this worse.
[Can't stay awake forever]
Eventually, her vigilance has to falter. She's been pushing herself too hard for too long, pulling on the Force so often than it's got her running on fumes, and the stress of this situation does not help. There's no helping it, and eventually she falls asleep leaning in one of the corners of the room. It's still for a long time, until it isn't. Then it shifts, one side going flat or a shifting of squares that moves her head, and she slumps to the side, still asleep.
Her head falls onto the shoulder of whoever might be next to her but she's exhausted enough, drained enough, to not notice right away.
At least she doesn't drool?
falling asleep --> close confinement? :>
Having given up on riding this moving room, she leans against the wall, staring blankly ahead. There's a glazed look to her eyes. She shifts automatically when needed, conserving her energy when she can. This goes on meal after meal, until things bleed together and--
--and a head falls onto her shoulder. Dany stiffens, shoulder jerking out of reflex, recoiling from the invasion of her space. The dragon rallies, awakening from its dozing state... only to resettle when she realizes who has just fallen asleep.
yes perfect plan
\o/
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Kylo Ren | Star Wars
He couldn’t recall how he’d arrived here, which was starting to become a worrying recurrence. Kylo had been in the dugout… or maybe he’d been walking back to it? Hux couldn’t have been too far ahead of him, anyways. He’d felt tired, but even he wouldn’t have just sat down in the middle of the trench for a nap. His best guess was that he’d been summoned by the Regency after all, and he’d been more successful in making contact that just receiving that scarb.
He assumed as much, at least, until he found himself here with other prisoners. Prisoners he doubted were interested in the Regency in the same way he was, too. His first reaction was anger, naturally, at being thrown in a cell with his supposed allies, and the people he wouldn’t bat an eye at to betray. Not if it got him out of here, or back home, or -- anything better than this, really.
Kylo stuffed his anger down, only to have it flare up again when the cell began its routine shifting. Being comfortable wasn’t entirely necessary for meditation, except when the floor became the wall, or something equally infuriating. After the third time he’d been knocked over, Ren stood, slamming both fists on the wall. “This is impossible!
Blinded by the Light
Kylo Ren was nothing if not persistent, even if that persistence was in pursuit of something harmful or dangerous. The random flashes of light were annoying, distracting -- and possibly something of greater importance than preventing them from resting. He couldn’t track a pattern, not like the rations, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Figuring out the source of light was a good start.
Self inflicted pain was nothing new to him, so the most he did was wince the first time he looked directly into the light. He still flinched each time after that, screwing his eyes shut to let them recover between each attempt. So far, it was just nothing but pure light. Some part of him actually found this humorous, when he thought about it. Kylo Ren, staring directly into the Light, as if it ever had any answers for him. There was a joke in there somewhere.
He wasn’t in the mood for humor, unsurprisingly. After the spots started to fade from his last attempt, a new window of light opened, and Kylo lunged for it. The angle was a lucky one -- it still blinded him, but this time… he was certain he’d seen something. That, or he was starting to do real damage to his eyes.
Rubbing his closed eyes, still seeing light, he said: “There is something out there. It’s not just a light.”
brig
"Shut up! You're too loud." Her tone is demanding, her voice (ironically) almost as loud as his. "Yelling at us isn't going to help."
Again, hypocritical: she yells plenty whenever anyone touches her, lands on her, eyes her food, or looks at her the wrong way. But Kylo's annoying her, personally, and that's what matters here.
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the brig
"You should just be glad you aren't strapped to a metal chair," she says, voice chill. "Or that you haven't decided to trust someone only to have them put you in chains the moment you go to help them."
Her, bitter? Nah...
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