PHD #449: Concatenation
Summary: Ciro and Sofia discuss Cylon Model Eleven's art.
Date: 21 May 2042 AE
Related Logs: Muddy Water
Sofia Ciro 
Behind the two hangar decks, the Cerberus' Galley is the largest room on the ship. Nearly half the size of a football field, the eating area is made up of long lines of stainless steel tables that can be folded up and placed against the wall for larger events. Individual seats are the standard military issue, boring and grey with lowest-bidder padding. The line for food stretches across one of the shorter sides of the room while the kitchen behind works nearly twenty-four hours a day to produce either full meals or overnight snacks and coffee for the late shifts.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear
Post-Holocaust Day: #449

Freshly showered, the crowd in the dinner line seems to part, many other marines giving Ciro his place in line until he doesn't have to wait at all. He's gracious about it, nodding his head and elbowing a few arms with quiet conversation as he passes up. The end result is a large plate of food. Some sort of fish casserole, rolls, potatoes, rehydrated vegetables, a large glass of ice water and an old can of juice are on his tray when he sits down in the corner by himself, glancing to the door for signs of his dinner date.

Sofia is in her off-duties now and has a sketchbook under her arm. She smiles, seeing Ciro in line and - aw. Nice Marines are nice. She seems tremendously pleased about this. She however, waits her turn. She hums and meanders towards Ciro. She waves at some of her fellows in passing. "Hey you. Want some of my potatoes?"

Ciro's eyes lift to her, waving her off. "Oh no, no I don't know if I'm going to be able to handle all of this as it is. One of the privates through another dinner roll onto the plate. Seems words gotten around that I just got off that hump." Ciro replies, motioning for her to take a seat before him or beside him, whichever is easier for her. Reaching across the table, he takes up his glass of water and sips. "So were we really that bad getting off of the Raptor?"

"Yeah? See, you're a hero," Sofia smiles. She'll sit across from him and set the sketchbook down. She opens her can of juice. She seems pleased. "Yes. I felt bad, but I couldn't help how my eyes react," She admits, "So I'm sorry I was rude to you."

"Rude? Oh…really don't worry about that, Wolfe. I've been far worse, actually. Longest I've gone without a shower in the field was well over a week. If you think three days was bad, try two or three weeks. It is what it is." He pauses to take a few bites of his food. Glancing to the side to see a few people sit down close, likely eavesdropping. "Sorry I couldn't say anything."

Sofia tilts her head. "Yikes. Well, that's okay," She shakes her head. And then she smiles faintly. "I understand. Gunny's the same way. Has to poke it a few times then the stuff can trickle down to the rest of us gossiphounds." She looks over to the eavesdroppers. "But I did bring the book as promised," She nods. "So … maybe sometime. I imagine they'll make it public once things get sifted through anyway. That's how it usually goes." She seems to believe. "Mostly, I'm glad you guys are back. I hate to admit it," That in a teasing tone, "But I did miss you and the others."

"Well I missed you too. It was work, that's for sure. I guess this now explains why I was practically killing myself with all of those workouts. We had a pretty big hike we had to make with full gear. It was a bitch." Ciro chuckles, taking another sip of his iced water. "So…I want you to know before we talk about this that this isn't mission related. We were talking about this book way before all of this happened, and I told you that I'd listen to what you have to say about Eleven." He watches her face, blinking in the direction of her eyes. "What was she like?"

Sofia nods, "Yup." She tilts her head. She lifts her eyebrows. "Sounds like it!" She admits, pondering. "I'm kinda jealous though. You guys totally go to go outside…" Sigh. She looks solmenly at him. "She … seemed sad whenever sentient life was killed. The first time we ran into her, she tried not to kill us. Ever since, she's done stuff like blow up a base star, self destruct… One time she even broke out of her cell when we had one alive on board. But it turns out she broke out to save some people in a fire, bringing them oxygen masks and an extinguisher. Then she waited to let the MPs take her," She shakes her head. "I have a hard time believing someone would throw away an escape chance like that, you know? But here. Look at these if you want." Trustingly, she nudges the book towards him. She seems more quietly serious.

Careful to not get any of his food on the sketchbook, he opens it to the side of the table, peering at the first page. Leaning away from it, he feeds himself awkwardly with his left hand, eating while he observes. After swallowing a large mouthful of casserole, he lifts his eyes from the pages and watches Sofia closely. "Has she ever explained why she did any of that? I'm assuming you got face time with her?" Again, he sips his water. Mealtime is a multi-tasked event. "I think the reason why I find it so hard to understand the concept of so-called good cylons is because of Warday. I don't really get why go through all that trouble and then change their minds."

The first few pages are several rudimentary portraits of crewmembers she had memorable contact with - Tillman, Cora, and Karthasi. The latter is the most interesting. Sister Karthasi, in this portrait, is displaying a gleaming blank orb where her right eye should be, streaks of light obscuring that part of her features. There is a crow perched upon each shoulder and she cradles in her hands what looks to be a limp, dead owl. She's wearing a diaphonous white gown of what looks to be a fanciful, antiquated style. Very antiquated.

Sofia tilts her head. "I remember her saying she wanted to make a weapon that wouldn't hurt us, only sterilize us so we'd quietly die out. Then she told us she realized what she and her sisters signed up for and she was horrified by it. She sounded so sad and regreful. She even sent raiders home for us," She notes. "She's given us a lot, mostly. I mean … haven't - who hasn't done something they regret more than they can ever say? She's even blown herself up with a base star."

Listening quietly to Sofia, Ciro has a curious look on his face. For just a moment, as he's nodding his head, it appears that he might actually considering her point. Breathing in through his nose, a slight sniffle, he takes another bite of his food and turns the page. He's talking while he eats, but that's okay. He's a marine and not a diplomat.

"Okay…so what you're saying is that they're not all hive-minded like the Centurions seem to be? That there's a possibility that some of them want to burn us all, and others disagree?" He glances to Sofia, making an animated, frustrated face in her direction before he turns back to the pages. "I'm not one of those people that is offended by the idea of a thinking machine, but I think it's a shame that they delved into our weak, argumentative standards. We're problematic and now they are too, right?"

Sofia watches Ciro. She smiles a bit, seeming amused by him. Sofia's definitely fond of him. She nods. "Yeah. Like … One. Kepner's minions were trying to hack into our systems and set off the nukes. Bad news since y'know, we're carrying them. So he sacrificed himself to give us enough power and fight their attacks. They were using Cylon technology," She seems perturbed. "Fierce stuff. But … he gave himself up so we wouldn't be atomized I guess. Funny how that works," She furrows her eyebrows. "Oh well. There's some more pictures," She nods at him to turn the pages. She's tolerant, accepting of his reactions. "I think … maybe we rubbed off on them a bit," She considers. It's a theory anyway.

Various simple mathematical calculations (addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and basic algebra) in a slanted, cursive hand that all have the same result. "12." The very last one, a roundabout equation, has "+1" added to its result equalling "13" and then subtracting 12, equalling "1."

Sofia adds, "She liked math too."

While the math seems very interesting to Ciro, there's something more about the art that appeals to him than the numbers. He blinks his eyes, slightly tired from his trip to Gemenon. Clearly he's killing off his urge to analyze why Eleven has written the equations. He sets his fork down, looking like an overgrown teenager doing homework at the dinner table. He cracks open his can of juice, bringing it to his lips. He chases it with a sip from the ice water and then turns the page.

"Maybe we did, who knows. Maybe if I met one of them I'd know more. Not that I don't trust your opinion, but I'm a really hands on sort of guy. I can take someone's word for something but that doesn't change the fact that I need to see and understand for myself. This war started with treachery and all of these vague messages just…set me raw." He looks up from the pages to make eye contact with her, watching her closely. He offers her a quiet smile matched with an apologetic look. "You seem to like her, this Eleven. Fond of her, even."

Finally, there's the weirdest and most involved piece, is a sketch of a sweeping, classical building that looks familiar, although you cannot remember why at first. In fact, it appears to be a Colonial temple, although it is unclear if it is a specific one. Arranged equally in a circle are twelve statues - apparently displaying the twelve Lords of Kobol. They are all without faces, though. There is a blank oval where each face should be. In the center there is some sort of altar, shaded in such a way that it is stained. At the very top of the page, the words, "A dream" are scribbled neatly in the center of the paper. At the very bottom, more notes are jotted down. "All of this has happened before." Given the scale of the statues, the building is /massive/. We're talking Delphi-style massive. The building is not tremendously detailed, she didn't have the time to probably finish it.

Sofia watches Ciro for a moment, eating and drinking her own rations. She smiles faintly. "I understand. And I don't know why. She's the reason I can't have kids for a looooooong time," Sofia admits. "It

"It's just hard not to believe after so many sacrifices that she wasn't sincere. She seemed so sad and grew to like us I think." Sofia nods. "But I can understand completely why people might not buy it you know?" She looks to Ciro. "And I like you still too."

"Twelve, thirteen…definitely seems to be a theme with her. Do you think she might know who all of the Cylons are?" He looks up from the pages to her once again, pausing to emphasize his point. "The idea of being a Cylon and not knowing it doesn't sit well will me, not because I think I am one, but I just…where I've been makes me who I am, and to find out that it was all some sort of lie or planted memory just makes me mad, you know?" A soft smile is offered in her direction as he blindly turns the page, revealing the next drawing.

"You like me still, eh?" He grins slyly. "Even though I'm a doubter? For a while I think you were worried that I was the kind of guy that would have beat Bannik up. I still don't agree with the guy, but I guess I figure that as long as we have people playing skeptic we'll keep thinking instead of giving over fully to hope. I'd like to hope. I kind of do…" He looks back to her face. "…I don't know."

"She does. Or did. She told us about a few who where here," Sofia remarks. She looks to Ciro and shrugs. "That I can't tell you about," She tilts her head. "But I definitely see where you come from," Sofia bites her lower lip. "I'd hate to be a Cylon. And sure. Then … no, I don't think you'd beat Bannik up," She admits. She takes a deep breath. "We'll see how it goes huh? I want to believe if only so we have a home … and things like that. I dunno. I find it hard to hate her after what she's done. That's all the art she left us though," Sofia admits. "I wish I could tell you more. But I find myself saying that a lot," She casts her eyes down, seeming unhappy about this fact. "And yes. I do. You're King Mohawk."

"King Mohawk…" Ciro smiles softly, closing up the book and offering it back over to her. "…you know Sofia, I can really see where you're coming from. Why give in to hate, right? If she's done things to keep up alive then why return that sacrifice with hatred? We're in our darkest hour and what we need are friends, and if we find ourselves greeing our supporters with knives how far have we really fallen, right?" He ignores his food, lifting his shoulder in a soft shrug. "Ximena was right about you. You really do see more than you let on, don't you?"

Sofia grins at Ciro's smile. She takes her book back. She nods slowly. "Yeah. That's about how I feel about it. How would YOU feel if you went to save someone and they held out bombs and knives at you? We even went to Sagittaron after Warday. Well… they didn't change much," She seems pained. "That and we've seen what hate can do if you let it eat you." Kepner. "But I mean … we shouldn't lay down if someone shoots at us. Five is seriously unfriendly," She shakes her head. "So not all of the Cylons are friendly." Obviously. Then a pause and she goes red. Sofia smiles shyly. "She - is kinda the same. Ximena's very wise. But I suspect you're onto me. Sigh. Now I'm going to have to find something new to do." Smile.

Leaning back in his chair, across from her, Ciro averts his eyes only to give her a temporary reprieve from her blushing. Her smile is matched, his lips spreading into a wide grin. "Oh, c'mon don't stop doing what you're doing. I know I'm guilty of it too but there are a lot of people here that take things too seriously." Kepner again. He leans back in, tapping the table softly. He lowers his voice, cutting off the eavesdroppers. "Don't sell yourself short. Your point of view is a good one to have, and just like I think it's people like me that don't let people go too far in one direction, you do the same thing from the other direction, you know?" He smirks, going back to his food. "So…you noticed we were missing, you said?"

Sofia hrms. "If I'm not myself, I do not know what I will be," She admits. She tilts her head. "I just pay attention and I like to listen to people," She affirms. She grins at him. "It's - good to pay attention to people who are serious," She notes. "Sometimes we forget to be practical." She smiles. "People aren't onesided. It's important." She eats a bit, going quiet to turn his words over. She seems much happier to have the Mohawk back. "Yeah. When you roam around the ship on a daily basis, you learn when people move and stuff. But maybe I'm just creepy and curious," Sofia lowers her voice too, pondering this.

"Maybe you are creepy, but that doesn't make me much different. I go from my bunk to the workout room. That's obsessive behavior if you ask anyone." He winks, chuckling softly to let her know that he's just teasing. "For someone who's so curious though, you really haven't asked me a lot of questions. Did I give you the impression that I just wanted to keep people out?"

A pause. Then Sofia laughs and smiles at his wink and chuckle. She nods. "Sometimes you just have to watch people," She states simply. "Or listen to what they think of as important. And nah. It's tough if you're active lots," She notes. "But … my break is almost over," She looks sad. "Are you onboard long?"

"Long enough to get some sleep and wait to see if I'm heading back down." His lip pulls into a wide grin. "That was really well put, Sofia Wolfe. No, I don't know yet if I'm tapped for any future visits. Aside from paperwork, debriefings, and whatnot I'm also pretty sure I've got a few days off. If you're looking for me, check by my bunk or in the rec. I'm gonna be kicking back and being lazy." He takes in a slow breath and releases it. "Thanks for coming by. If I wanted to look at the pictures later, who did you say has the copies?"

"Sounds like a plan," Sofia smiles at his grin. She shakes her head. "I dunno if it's well put, but it seems to be a truth. Sometimes not saying anything means something." She considers him. "That'd be awesome. And lazy Mohawk! Yes, you need to be RestingMohawk," She nods sagely. "Um. The MPs have copies, so does CIC. And I can make you some before I go to bed," She offers.

"It can wait till morning, really, don't put yourself out on my behalf." His grin returns as a few new mohawk nicknames come his way. She's got a million of him, and it seems that every one of them brings a little light to his dull eyes. "Seriously? Just catch me when you can. I'll be the lump on the sofa in the rec room playing video games and having a beer…provided that I can find any." Sighing, he gazes at her across the table with a pair of dopey, sleepy eyes. "Right now all I want is a warm bed."

"There's no rush if it's along the way," Sofia promises. She smiles again, at his grin. She seems tremendously pleased. She doesn't seem done formulating more of them either. "I will for sure then. There's some ambrosia at Pete's if nothing else," She notes. "You probably have some vouchers in your locker. If not, I'll give you mine," She beams at him. "I don't really drink much." She returns his gaze and reaches over to ruffle his hair. "Then finish your food and sleep or I can carry you off." Nod.

Ciro laughs softly, once again leaning into the affectionate ruffling of his hair. "I'm hurryin' I'm hurryin." He laughs, going into double time with his food. He seems to be relieved to be back on board, like a weight's been lifted from his shoulders. Swallowing the last of the casserole, he palms two dinner rolls and takes a big gulp of water to wash it down. The can of juice is coming along for the ride it seems. "Alright, Wolfe. Cmon, let's get you own of here before you have to drag my heavy ass up all them stairs."

Sofia smiles as he leans into the ruffling. "Well don't choke. But I do know the maneuver if you do," She nods. She seems glad to see him. "Okay!" She too takes her rolls and such, her juice long go. She'll follow him along faithfully, cheerily. Dork.

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