PHD #448: Breakdown
Summary: Not all birthday presents are good ones, as the strain of everything takes its toll.
Date: 20 May 2042 AE
Related Logs: None
Lunair Madilyn 
Observation Deck - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus
With a quiet view to the stars, this tends to be one of the more popular 'quiet areas' of the Cerberus. Up front is a small-unseated area for ceremonies or other activities while the seating rises up behind it. Each level rises up behind the one before it, comfortable chairs and couches set up for crewmembers to relax, get some work done or even take a nap. A large armored plate is lowered during Condition One to protect the interior against a breach in the glass.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear
Post-Holocaust Day: #448

Lunair on the hunt. She hums, tucking a small bag of candy into her pocket. She is in her off-duty garb, seeming at peace. Her hair is awkward - still growing out in starts and fits. But it grows. She wanders into the Observation Deck, to watch the stars nearby. She takes up a seat, facing the window. Her dark purple eyes are intent on the window for a moment, but now and then she looks over her shoulder. It's fairly quiet for now though.

In the nebulous hours between shift changes, as one set of crewmen finish suiting up and reporting and the other drifts off to catch a smoke or get a shower or chow, traffic in the observation deck seems to be lightest. For this reason, Madilyn has stalked off early, intending to find some quiet and solace here for reasons all her own. From the back, only the top of a blonde head could be seen peeking over the back of one of the couches way far up closest to the glass.

Lunair pauses, and looks over. Is that? Hmm. Lunair cranes her neck, trying to see. She grunts and stands up. "Sir?" She asks quietly. She watches people come and go. She seems curious, perhaps concerned.

The formalities aren't really necessary, as Madilyn sits there in her own off-duty threads. This couch way up front is clearly set aside for her, as nobody seems to be bothering her or asking her to scoot over. The only thing visible on the cushions are a small leather-bound volume. "Something bothering you lieutenant?" Madilyn stands from the couch, wiping at an eye with a closed fist from which dangles the chain of her dog tags.

Lunair looks over her shoulder. She pauses. She stands and moves over to see Madilyn. "Oh no." She shakes her head. "But I owed you these and I hadn't seen you," She holds out the small cellophane bag. Two small pieces of taffy and one peppermint. "It's not much but it's some of the last taffy ever. I um, probably should've checked first." She looks duly abashed. "… how are you?" She does notice the eye wiping though.

"You owed me these?" comes Madilyn's reply, accompanied by the raising of one of her brows? "What for? What from?" While she stands and talks, two things happen. First, she slides the chain back around her neck, revealing that it's more than just her dog tags on there: there are two rings as well. The other thing is that she snaps the holster strap closed on her sidearm.

A pause at the holster strap closing. Lunair smiles faintly. "We didn't forget your birthday," She remarks. "But I thought it'd be rude if we screamed Surprise at you," At least she has manners. "And you seemed a bit down, if I may be permitted to be so rude," She looks down. Despite her distant, mannered bearings - there seems to be a heart down in there.

"And here I thought I was being so subtle," Madilyn says with a wan smile that indicates that she's probably not being sarcastic. "As far as birthdays go, this is certainly not the way I expected to be celebrating this big one." The smile continues, but she's being truthful.

"Well, you were," Lunair admits. She'd almost forgotten really. "I don't… think many of us expected this sort of thing," She remarks quietly, looking to Madilyn and taking a seat just near enough for conversation. She seems concerned, but smiles faintly. "I'm not really good with words, but… I figured at least a small present was in order. And I can listen if nothing else."

"There's not much to talk about, really. Nothing that people haven't been talking about for more than a year now. Instead of spending my fortieth birthday at home, with my family, going to dinner and then bringing them home for cake. Both of them would probably fall asleep thinking that they were the ones getting the party," Madilyn says of her kids, implicitly. "Instead, I'm stuck here at the frakking edge of Colonial space in a tin can, waiting for godsdamned chrome-plated terrors to hunt us down and blow us to Hades…or Elysium, if we're lucky! Oh, but wiping out our whole godsdamned families wasn't enough for them, oh no. Now they want to be human! First they exterminate us, then they want to profess how they aspire to be us?!" Her conversation grows more exaggerated and frustrated as she moves through the thought, until she's practically screaming the last bit.

Lunair nods, looking saddened and sympathetic. She tilts her head. She subconsciously moves closer, perhaps in a gesture of comfort. "It's strange and frustrating," She agrees quietly. "And in a way utterly tragic," She shakes her head. "I am not sure I have proper words, but I'm sorry. You have my sympathy and my shoulder," Likely a reference to literal and metaphorical support. She seems uncertain, a sad mark of a sheltered upbringing. But she is making an attempt.

"You shouldn't be sorry for me. I'm not the only person to lose their family in this. Every single member of this fleet lost someone to the Cylons." Here, Madilyn pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers, thinking. "I don't need a shoulder, Lieutenant. I just need this," she says, reaching to her hip and unholstering her sidearm. "Just this, and enough bullets to kill every frakking toaster." From the back of the observation deck, she'd look silhouetted against the stars, waving the gun around; up close, it's the same, except one can see the way the light hits the stone in one of the rings suspended from the chain and swinging around as she gestures.

Lunair shakes her head. "I'm sad for all of them," She admits. She takes a deep breath. "I see. I'm sorry," She looks apologetic. She bites her lower lip. "Well. I have no doubts there will be more for you to deal with. But." She seems worried. "Please … Never forget that you've been a wonderful CO throughout all of this, alright?" She looks up. She's not sure how to deal with it. "No matter what happens. I don't honestly know /what/ to say beyond that. Normally things are much easier. See toaster, shoot toaster."

"Things were easy before. Easy enough that I was able to climb the ranks, it seems. And now those frakkers want to come back, parading around with flesh and blood and sneak attack us like cowards? And NOW they want to be our friends?" If there's a line or guide for decorum or self-control around subordinate officers, Madilyn's clearly crossed it, oh, a few parts of her rant back. At least here she has sense enough to re-holster that gun. "First I was depressed. Then I was mad. Now…well, now there's nothing. A void."

"They were," Lunair agrees quietly. She does point out, "I wonder if some of the models have differing opinions on whether the attack should've even happened from the sounds of it. Sort of like a minority vote on a council. That the peaceful ones didn't like the idea, but when you're outnumbered and outvoted… That said, I don't honestly know." She shakes her head. "We'll know more soon." She takes a deep breath. "There is something, even if it feels numb. You haven't given your soul to genocide or mutiny," She adds. She's trying, her upbringing failing her now. If only there were some magic words, some magic response. Instead, she holds steady and listens. Watching quietly and without judgment.

"No, there's something more sinister waiting for me. It's there. I've felt it before, a tickle of black creeping up the spine and poking into the brain, tempting and appealing." That would seem to indicate that the conversation is coming to a close. Before she departs, Madilyn is sure to retrieve the volume she'd left on the couch. "I'm sorry that this conversation took that turn. I am thankful that someone remembered," she says while holding up the bag of candy. A simple nod, and that's that, it seems. She's headed for the hatch.

Lunair seems comforted she likes the bag. She nods then frowns. "Please don't hesitate to come to any of us or speak to someone. We're here for you - no matter what," She offers to Madilyn. "Thick. And thin." She nods. "Please be well. And I am glad I picked good candy at least." She smiles faintly, but it soon waves. With that, she waves and looks thoughtful. Perhaps sad.

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