Real & Half-Real: Chapter 1 - The Portal and the Plan

[unsheathedfromreality]

Who: The Committee to Rescue Illarion from His Very Stupid Mistake
What: Building a portal to bust into a pocket dimension and strategizing what to do once they get there. All extremely advisable science.
When: Early-mid April
Where: Throughout Trench, and in parts beyond it

It's been weeks since Illarion's disappearance in the fight against Leviathan, and scarcely fewer weeks since his Omen Iskierka began papering Trench with notes on his whereabouts. The shrike's friends and loved ones have not been idle during that time, and now their plans begin coming to fruition.

It's time to get him out of the nightmare he's trapped in--but first, they've got to break their way in, and they've got to have a plan.

[[ Part of the Real & Half-Real player plot! Navigate to other plot posts: [OOC] Interest Check | [IC] Prologue | [IC] Iskierka's Notes ]]

Comments

[cryptograms]

In a rare concession to lab and workshop safety Ford even has gloves for Ortus to borrow, if he so chooses. Either way, Ford is quick to move on to his task. Ortus's question gets a thoughtful hum in response.

"It's a different style of portal construction from what I'm used to," he muses, his tone mild. "Not dramatically so, but I can't say I mind only needing to worry about stabilizing the gateway. Much simpler than trying to create a gate and hold it, and much easier to construct."

He chuckles.

"In any case, nothing has caught fire yet."

Ford speaks in a tone that manages to be joking while still conveying that this is a real concern that merits their consideration.

[noniad]

Ortus gladly accepted the offered gloves, and is even more glad of them at the mention of the possibility of the portal catching fire.

The man's commentary recalls the Lady Pent's lightly reeled off preparation for exorcism, complete with the evident lightness of concern over potential adverse outcomes that nevertheless made them feel quite real and pressing. In that case, his apprehensions had been prescient.

"Once finished, do you believe the portal will remain stable?" Ortus asks, his nerves ill-concealed. "Unlikely to combust, or otherwise lose its integrity?"

[cryptograms]

"That's two different questions, my friend!"

Ortus's nerves are ill-concealed, but Ford isn't the best at reading people. Besides, he can't see worth a damn in this welding mask.

"The portal doesn't have any sort of power source, so it's not likely to be the cause of any fires. Not once it's established and all of the wiring is in place."

As for the time before that... Well. He's holding a welding torch. He doesn't need to say anything more than he already has.

"But without a power source the portal isn't much more than scaffolding. Succumbing to the forces of interdimensional acceleration is a question of when, not if - but it's highly unlikely we'll have to worry about any explosions when it does."

He pauses, then adds:

"Though be prepared for a localized windstorm. I suspect we'll have to deal with a sudden shift in atmospheric pressure."

[noniad]

Deja vu creeps over Ortus like a swift growing mold, and he finds himself oddly torn between greater nervousness (the last time he had participated in such a plan, it had not gone to plan) and a strange, tentative feeling he cannot quite call optimism (it had, in the end, been accomplished).

"My concern is not so much for the conditions on our side of the portal, but for those who have journeyed through it," he says, after a pause that he has allowed to stretch overlong. Or perhaps he has not allowed long enough, and he is serving as a distraction to the man's work, which will cause him to make an error that will in turn doom the entire expedition.

Or something of that nature.

"If the worst should come to pass, and they are not able to return before the collapse..." He would clear his throat, if not for the necessity of holding still. "Would they be harmed, or merely stranded?"

[cryptograms]

Ford is used to chatting while he works, and similarly used to the chatter giving way to focused silence in irregular but frequent intervals. He's finished welding this particular joint when Ortus speaks up again. He's silent for a few moments himself, taking the time to shut his torch off and finally flip up his welding mask before he replies.

"The collapse of the portal itself shouldn't cause any additional harm. Like I said, it's more of a brace than anything else."

He taps the extinguished torch against his palm, gaze gone distant with thought.

"My concern is that a premature collapse is likely to be a symptom of a greater problem - like instability within the dimension itself. If it collapses it's difficult to predict what might happen to those within it."

[noniad]

Ortus does not lean against the portal frame, mindful of the newness of the weld, but his shoulders droop as a proxy for the gesture. The already mournful lines of his paint sag under his light perspiration as he opens his eyes to regard Ford.

"Little good," he says, soft and dark as loam, "If it is at all like my experience of such a thing. Perhaps it will not be. The circumstances are not wholly alike, and I am no magician, nor a theorist of the art. I also allow for the possibility I worry overmuch. I am prone to the melancholic."

He glances away, towards the rest of the project and those working on it.

"All of this for the sake of one lost soul." Ortus muses. "It is a curious trait of humankind, our willingness to risk so much for the sake of a single person, one a stranger to most of us. Is it noble, or foolhardy? Do we answer such a question by the intent of the action, or by its outcome?"

[cryptograms]

Ortus sure is... florid in his descriptions, isn't he? Ford actually doesn't mind a bit of verbal filigree where it fits, but in the middle of a construction project it just gets an arch of the brow in response.

But Ortus's musing hits closer to home than Ford is expecting. He's familiar with the concept of sacrificing a great deal of time, effort, and energy to rescue someone trapped on the other side of the portal, and well aware of the high cost such a mission can extract. Even knowing that the cost this time won't be nearly so high it's sobering to think about.

"I doubt you can call it one or the other when something like this is usually both."

Noble to make the sacrifice, and foolish to do so.

"The outcome that matters to those making the effort is whether or not he appreciates it."

[noniad]

Ford's brevity in turn earns a quirk of his eyebrows, although his shade more towards the thoughtful. He's accustomed to his musings being met with bafflement or annoyance, so that Ford listened and formed a response is already more than he was expecting.

But people here have often been surprising to him, to the extent that he finds himself increasingly less surprised. There is a level of tolerance extended to others that he supposes is a sensible local custom, considering.

"One would hope he does," Ortus agrees, mildly, "Though perhaps I show myself a hypocrite in thinking so. I was a laggard in my gratitude to those who sought to come to my aid when I was in peril."