| Blood doesn't wash out easily, you know |
| Summary: | Tisiphone and Daphne shower off other people's blood. |
| Date: | 11 Apr 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank) |
| Players: |
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| Head |
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| Like any normal head on the ship, this one is painted in light grey with some blue around the top of the room. Down the center there are 16 sinks, 8 on each side backed up to each other. Along the hull areas of the room, showers and lockers are toward the back and off to the left of the sinks are closed toilets and open urinals. |
| Post Holocaust Day: #43 |
'Don't use the stairwell,' the engineers said as they first burst into CIC. Tisiphone promptly ignored them — 'It's how we got here,' she says, flatly — as she made her way back down to Sickbay. The stairwell was thick with bodies, some of them still making small signs of life. Blood still glistening on the steps, spatter-sprayed up on the walls, all the way to the ceiling.
The corridor between the stairwell and Sickbay was little better. Thankfully, perhaps, the bodies there were all already dead. The living ones had been dragged into Sickbay by Tisiphone or the two Marines stationed there on lockdown. All that was left, then, was to haul the bodies out of Sickbay into the hall, to make room in the shattered facility to treat the dying before they finished the job.
Somewhere over an hour later, it's close enough to done that there's nothing for either Ensign to do, other than head back to berthings. Or, more precisely, the head.
"Blood doesn't wash out easily, you know." Daphne needs to latch on to something that isn't the real ramifications of what's happened here, today. Her choice is so obvious for her that Tisiphone might have been waiting for it in the first place. Daphne's dressed in her uniform. That there's even blood on her qual pins is sure to be a fact that drives the young lady nuts. Of course, she's got enough of the stuff in her hair that she appears to be working her way from a blonde to a redhead. "Can we get this out? I hope they'll assign new uniforms if they can't."
"Cool water and soap," Tisiphone answers, almost automatically. "Soft brush so the wool doesn't mat. Peroxide on whatever's left. You'll probably still notice it, though." The /you/ is slightly emphasized. The strain-removal won't be perfect, after all. As soon as the hatch closes behind them, she's starting to pull her shirts off over her head, trudging for the nearest shower stall.
"Blue and red looks vulgar." Clear distaste, and with a tone that strongly suggests that's the only problem with the blood. She unbuttons the jacket of her uniform, pulling it open and then going for the shirts underneath. "With all the shooting, and all the… well, with all the death, I was wondering where you were." She doesn't seem to care about any guys who might wander into the head, standing there topless, looking at her uniform jacket with disgust. "This is horrible."
"Sickbay appointment. Medicators wanted a look at my arm. Probably should've had the cast off today." Should've, and obviously didn't; she's wrestling her shirts off around the cast as she speaks. "They came in through the walls. You heard what Lieutenant Oberlin said? Same as the First War." She throws her own blood-sodden tanks into the shower stall then looks back at Daphne, then her jacket. "Just take it into the shower with you," she says. "Take it down to the laundry after."
Daphne nods in agreement, getting the boots off and then walking into a stall pants and all to finish disrobing, "You're right. That's the only way to do this." She says nothing for a few moments. "My patrol ran into a cylon patrol last night. They sent some sort of… message to us, and then jumped." More silence, and then there's a sound like running water. "I was watching Spiral tear into Lasher about the squadron and then we basically had cylons coming at us on all sides. It all happened so fast."
"Where the frak did they come from?" Tisiphone's head is dropped down beneath the stall's walls as she works on her boots. A few moments later she straightens, and walks forward, turning the water on. She must still have her pants on, from the sound the water makes. "There weren't any boarding ships. Maybe it wasn't a message to you- to us. Maybe it was a wake-up call. Maybe they've been there all along. Like… frak, I don't know. Like termites." It's a lot of maybe's.
"I don't know, but I really want to know what that transmission was about. What in Hades could they have felt like telling us, if it was that. Bunny and Stiffy picked up some sort of message from them, and then they just jumped out like they were late for supper." Water runs in Daphne's stall, and a pool of diluted red blood begins to spread around her bare feet. "So, we tried going downstairs, but a bunch of marines were heading that way, so we went up, grabbed some rifles, and… So much blood. So much… death. We fought our way into CIC. You saw the place."
"Anything still working up there? Could you tell? Are we- adrift?" Tisiphone doesn't seem to think that's likely — or refuses to believe it. They still have hot, running water. Surely that means Everything Is Okay. "Gods." She leaves it at that, and turns her face directly into the shower-head's spray.
"They were aiming directly for the consoles. It's sort of like that Lieutenant said. They wanted to neutralize CIC. But the ship's got a backup CIC. Most ships do." More bloody water spirals down her drain. "But I don't know what that really means, if it's fully functional, if it's just crampt. But you were right there when they came in through medical? What happened? They were just opening fire on everything? I don't even know who's still here and who's dead. Lucky was with us and she went down in a firefight. I think she's dead. I really don't know."
Tisiphone soaps up her good hand and rubs it over and around her shorn scalp. Her casted arm remains propped on the edge of the shower-wall. It's a well-practice routine, at this point. "Sounded like they took pneumatic drills to the walls. Power cut out, phones went dead. Four of them came through, and opened up on the doctors and injured. After the first sweep, three of them left." One being deemed enough to finish the splatterfest, it seems. "Up the stairwell to CIC, I suppose."
"Had to happen sooner or later." The water pooling at Daphne's feet is a lot more clear and a lot less red. There's more suds down there, too. One of those feet vanish from sight, presumably so its owner can wash it. "I just didn't know it at that time. It's.. not easy to not be fatalistic. We lot a lot of people. We didn't have many to begin with."
"Engineer or the deckies or- or someone will have to figure out a way to scan the ship. Make sure there aren't more hiding. How many people in exchange for how many Cylons? Eris is laughing at us, Daphne, and Ares is too busy beating off to care." There's a loud, wet splat from Tisiphone's shower-stall as she sheds the last of her clothes. Squelcha squelcha, as she steps on them, working water in, and blood out.
"Does it matter?" retorts Daphne with a bitter aftertaste. "They come off a frakking assembly line. We have to get as far away as possible if we're not going to go extinct. Just… pick a direction and go." The sound of the water from her stall changes as she takes the opposite route, showering her uniform off, now. The floor tiles run red once more. "There's nothing left for us here anymore, anyway. One system's as good as any other."
"Yeah. It's what we should be doing. I- I couldn't agree more, Daphne." Tisiphone looks up from herself, across at Daphne, for the first time since stepping into the shower. "What's to go back for? A final flip of the bird and a frak-you before we're all snuffed out? We should leave. There's- got to be somewhere we could find, before our fuel runs out. Ten years. We could do it."
More sound of water against fabric come from Daphne's stall, but no words. The young woman exiting the stall with a soggy, sorry looking uniform eyes it with an even mixture of contempt and worry. "I hope this comes out okay." She eyes it almost as though it were a dying family member, as if blowing the seriousness of her uniform's state all out of proportion. "If we live that long, sure." She trails off, and then frowns. She didn't even think to bring a towel. Understandable, since she was bloody and she's, well, Daphne. At least the berthing is directly adjoined to the shower. "I shot a few of them and it didn't really feel more satisfying, like I thought it would be. Didn't feel like anything.
Once more, Tisiphone puts her face directly under the shower-head, scouring her face, before turning the water off with a sharp squeak of protest from the dial. There are more wet squelchy noises as she wrings water out of her clothes by stepping on them, before she emerges, towel-less and with an armful of sodden clothes. "Funny how you think something's gonna be a big deal and then it isn't, or a little thing's suddenly massive, isn't it?" She doesn't sound like she thinks it's funny at all. "I gotta stash these and try to rack out."
"Yeah." Daphne wrings her uniform out, eyeing her pins as if weighing the danger of losing them versus the danger of leaving them pinned to the uniform right this instant. "It's a big funny joke. We're condition two. Can't even get shitfaced. I almost don't care if they come in and shoot me to death right now. Almost." She shakes her head and heads towards the door to the viper berthings, holding the poor, wrinkled uniform.