| Better in Fiction |
| Summary: | Sawyer turns to the library for new reference material. Along comes Cidra and Ryder and a pseudo religious debate. At least Cidra leaves with a prize. |
| Date: | 12 Dec 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Any related to serpent/sparrow/dream foo. |
| Players: |
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| Ships Library |
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| Racks of books extend deep into this room, nearly darkening the overhead lights towards the back. The shelves are neatly labeled to each category with nearly everything represented here. Fiction, Sci-Fi, Romance, and everything down to comic books has been loaded up onto the shelves. A smaller research area at the back has a large table for maps to be opened-up. Nearer the door is a small library of movies that covers some of the most recent blockbusters and flows through some of the more campy movies from about two decades before. Next to the door, a Petty Officer can usually be found at a desk to help someone checkout their selections. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #289 |
It's a shame that the library has to be up on deck nine, it would be so much more easier if it existed in Sawyer's little self-contained universe of deck three. As such each trip here is an trek, and Sawyer camps out at the summit before making the return trip to base camp. Plunked into a chair, she's kicked off her heels to tuck her feet beneath her and no less than five books are scattering the surface of her lap, floor and the arms of the furniture she occupies. Looks like her subject of choice today seems to be religious fiction.
Cidra slips into the library. Dressed down in her off-duties, which means her numerous tattoos are clearly on display. It might be an odd sight, ever-proper CAG with all her ink. But, so is the Gemenese woman. She approaches the religious fiction nook herself. Probably standard territory for her. So the reporter is spotted readily enough. "Sawyer. A good eve." Faintest of smiles.
The reporter is occupying a chair, rather camped out with a selection of books. It looks as if she has been here a while, having made herself comfortable by shedding her shoes and curling up in the furniture. Her finger gets tucked into the pages of the book she's currently reading, marking her place as she looks up to the CAG's greeting. "Cidra." Sawyer scans the tattooed arms of the proper woman, her own smile appearing on the corners of her lips. "Pull up a book and a chair." Sawyer gives a nod to the empty one beside her, "I should have tracked you down. But. Here you are, got a moment to talk?"
"I am here precisely to take a few moments," Cidra says. "So I certainly have one or two to talk. Do you read such often?" She takes a book of Apollo stories off the shelf, seemingly at random. The question seems aimed at the genre itself rather than anything specific. "I did not know you were a woman of the Faiths." No particular judgment about that. Or, if she carries any, she keeps it inscrutably to herself.
The hatch opens, and in walks… a STRANGER! (Dun, Dun, Dun.) The large, older man takes a look around as he enters the Library, a smile on his face as he takes in all the books. "Finally get to stop reading them old romance novels…" he mutters to himself.
"I'm not. Or well, not in the traditional sense. I believe that religion is just another drug for people to get addicted to as a means to solve their problems when they can't do so on their own." Yes, she just equated the pantheon to heroin for all intents and purposes. Sawyer turns the book in her hands so she can read the cover, as if she's lost track of which particular book she was reading at the moment. "But I also believe the religion, just like other folk tales, has roots in ancient truths. It's a matter of cutting through all the fluffy bullshit to try and figure out what those truths are." Her eyes flick up to incoming man, her gaze tick-tocking over his face as if to try and place him but failing. "Huh." She says beneath her breath, before looking back to Hydra. "The stories are very evocative though. I've certainly enjoyed religious ceremonies before."
Cidra's eyes narrow at Sawyer when she compares religion to drugs. Perhaps shocked at such casual blasphemy. Or just offended by two of her favorite things being disparaged. It is inscrutably unclear. "You, Averies, would be *banned* on Gemenon." Tone dry as dust, though it's unclear whether it's a joke or not. "Are you searching for any truths in particular?" The new entrant to the library gets a look from the CAG. Another narrow one, as he's not recognized.
That comment gains a turned head, and a smile. "Banned on Gemenon? At least she would have lots of company." Walking over, Ryder looks at both of them and offers his hand first to Cidra, who is still standing. "Capt. Joe Ryder, Medical. Well, sorta Captain. Still waiting on reinstatement. Am I interrupting a religious discussion?"
"Yes. Well. There's a reason why reporters don't tend to interject their opinion often. We're supposed to remain objective and all that. But, you asked." Sawyer's eyes go back down to her book, prepared to open it back up and perhaps answer Cidra's latest question when the man approaches them. There's a flick of her hand to get a fringe of blonde out of her eyes, "Well, sort of Captain Joe Ryder, our whole world has become a religious discussion, so it would be impossible /not/ to interrupt. Sawyer Averies, resident pain in the ass."
"I confess it was wandering in that direction, though I do not prosteletize, for my part," is Cidra's reply to Ryder. Who she continues to eye curiously. "Captain?" A touch skeptical. Then he clarifies and she lets out a soft "Ah." He's still eyed curiously, however. "Are you one of those recovered from Tauron? I am Major Cidra Hahn. I command the air group aboard this vessel." Faintest of smiles at Sawyer. "You may address her by that official title if you like." Dry words aside, there's some fondness for the reporter buried in her tone.
"And here I thought Doctors had the market cornered on that particular title. Well, always good to meet a colleague." The chuckle is contagious. He turns to Cidra and gives a small salute, as appropriate when off duty and only sort of in the service. "Major, a pleasure. Here's hoping you and your pilots never need to meet me in an official capacity." He then looks to them both. "Yes, I am from the latest batch to be plucked from Tauron. We had a fair share of religious discussion down there, as well, though it was less about whether we believed in the Gods and more about if they believed in us, anymore. I was the closest thing they had to a Priest, and when you're banking all of it on a few years of temple schooling as a kid and some curious study in medical school, well…" he shrugs.
Sawyer manages to evade the chuckle contagion, but she does look a bit tired around the eyes. In fact, a hand raises to rub just above her brow, as if massaging away a headache. "I'm thinking of having business cards printed up. Sawyer Averies, PITA." There's a sigh, "I like when 'x' plus 'y' equals 'z'. The religious factor adds a variable I'm not entirely comfortable nor able to quite comprehend. So I'm trying to rationalize my irrationalities." Sawyer hoists up the book as a case in point. "To put it simply, Tauron is giving me the heebeegeebies. And yes, that's a technical term." She looks directly to Cidra, "Have we figured out what lies to the Southeast? That's where we need to go next."
Cidra's answer to the salute is a raise of her fingers, to waggle in return. An almost whimsical sort of hello. "I pray that shall be the case, but I do doubt it. For that rather selfish reason I do certainly welcome another physician aboard." Head tilts to Sawyer. Even more curious now. "Heebeegeebies?" She repeats the word oddly, slight accent putting the emphasis in funny places. Still, she doesn't disagree. "I shall admit, it puts an unease in me as well. There are old places on this colony, and walking the old grounds is not always good for one. Spirits hold power there that it is sometimes not wise to muss with."
Ryder looks from Cidra to Sawyer, visibly confused. "I can see why it would be disconcerting to walk on a nuked planet, but why…" he pauses. "What places did you have in mind, specifically?"
For a reporter to be tight lipped about something, it means the article isn't ready to publish. Sawyer merely shakes her head at Ryder. It's clear she's not going to divulge the whole story. "Unfortunately, we have to. We have no other choice at this point. We have to see what's the the Southeast, that's where everything pointed. I'll swing by your office sometime, give you the specifics of the last mission if you haven't already heard. Show you the pictures I took for Command." Her gaze slides back to Ryder. "You were down on planet, know anything specific about places relative to the city of Knossos in the Southeast region?"
"I look forward to it," Cidra says simply to Sawyer. Also grave on the subject, though she does not speak on it much. "Knossos is such an old place. I admit, I have not ventured to it myself, though I have sent some of the Raptors out to salvage from there. Part of me longs to set foot there. it is a place of great importance to the faithful on Tauron, from what I have read. And yet part of me…" She trails off. "…well. Call it superstition." Not that being superstitious is regarded as a particularly bad thing on Gemenon. Head tilting curiously toward Ryder. "Yes, Doctor. Where were you and your people, before you found rescue?"
Ryder shakes his head. "We weren't that far from your basecamp. We certainly never ventured so far Southeast as Knossos. It took the better part of two days to drive that bus from where we hid out to your… our… ground facility, and that was the farthest out I ever sent my scouts. Mostly, we depended on keeping a low profile. Plenty of ghosts to be found locally."
Sawyer deflates just a bit when Ryder's locale proves of no use, like when you find a lead has gone belly-up. "Well, I tried. But I suppose Command has all the maps we need, they do have an entire room dedicated to such." Her current book gets tossed to two already on the floor by shoes. "That was a useless read. I think it was just fan fiction about Dionysus, but at least there was some lovely imagery about plucking grapes from the vine. I'll never look at that fruit the same way again, I'm afraid." Looks like Sawyer got a hold of one of those romance novels Ryder was previously grumbling about.
"There are ghosts everywhere, my grandmother told me. Some more malevolent than others," Cidra says. As if such things were perfectly normal to say. The book Sawyer tosses aside is eyed. For a long moment. Then, as subtly as possible, she puts her Apollo stories back on the shelf and picks it up. "I studied little of Dionysus during my time on Gemenon. His cult is not one of the more celebrated on my home colony." No surprise there. "Intriguing."
Joe sighs, then pulls up a seat. "Grew up on Scorpia, under the shipyards. We were all about Hephaestos and Ares, not surprisingly. Pretty standard. Ever been to small temple on Aquaria? Their Great Sea heresy was always interesting to me. The whole; 'Space is the new sea, Poseidon has been raised above Zeus' stuff." He shakes his head. "Ghosts aplenty everywhere, now. Maybe that's why the Cylons fled? The Ghosts would likely not be too fond of machines in human form."
It's hard to hid a smirk when Cidra scoops up the epic tale of Dionysus' mighty vine, "I had thought there might be something in there about his manifestation as a bull. There was, of course, on page hundred and twenty-five to be exact, but I'm not sure that scene was precisely what I had in mind. The word pulsating was used far too often, someone should have gotten that author a thesaurus." Perhaps she's giving the CAG some highlights to look forward to. "Space is the new sea? Interesting. I hadn't really thought of it in that manner before."
"I would like to make a ghost of that abomination in the brig," Cidra mutters. It's unclear if she meant to say it aloud. She does not seem to be talking to either Ryder or Sawyer. She clears her throat. "In any case. Perhaps this warrants further study." Not that she sounds overly hopeful of finding the answers to the mysteries of the universe in the Dionysus vine fan fic. Still, she'll check it out. Another clearing of her throat, and askew look to Ryder. "Truly? Most intriguing. I have heard there were some unique heresies on Tauron as well. Families who worshiped their ancestors as gods themselves. But that is all of academics. I must admit, I have found little useful in getting answers from whatever ghosts linger on this world."
"You never know," Joe says with his usual smile. "There is a distinction between useful and easily discernible. I've been trying to get a feel for Cerberus' ghosts, myself. New ship, hard to divine, though with all she's been through, I'll bet the three-headed bitch has some doozies looking after her." He grins at Sawyer. "Sorry, comes with being a Doctor. I've seen people I swore would die pull through, and healthy men and women wither away to nothing. Seems the more you study, the less you know. And I've studied a LOT." He stands. "Anyway, thanks for listening to a weird old man ramble. I look forward to working with you both."
The journalist slips her feet out from beneath her, smoothly slipping them back into her high heels. "I used to never believe in things like ghosts." The words are almost a lament as Sawyer bends to collect the other books that litter her personal area, though Cidra makes sure her burden is less one. "Good luck, Sort of Captain." With a small groan of protest as she forces her body to straighten back out and stand, Sawyer finds her feet. "I think that's it for me tonight, folks." She leans over, giving the CAG a smooch on the cheek in parting.
Cidra returns the kiss on the cheek with a brisk one on Sawyer's kind. Quite casual about the parting gesture. Maybe it's also a Gemenese thing. "May the Lords regard you with favor," she says simply in parting. Another traditional sort of send-off, but it's given with less-than-casualness tonight. "Both of you." The last said with an inclination of her head to Ryder. "I should…get this checked out, then." Her Dionysus book, that is.
Ryder gives a short bow, and then heads for the door, more ship whispering to do, apparently. At least, in the areas where he can go. "Peace to you both, until we meet again!"