| Cylon Friday Night Book Club |
| Summary: | Sofia is nice. The Five is not. |
| Date: | 07 Jan 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | Enter C-27 |
| Players: |
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| Secured Brig - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| A solitary cell, with MPs and tasers and bullet-proof glass. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #315 |
The Cylon known as Model Five has been kept in a secured cell on the Battlestar Cerberus ever since she was handed over to the military by the Taurians more than a month ago. Day after day, she just sits in her cell. Occasionally spouting abuse or cryptic dribble - or some combination of the two - at her guards. But mostly she just sits, silent, stewing. She's under guard 24-7 by a pair of Military Police, monitoring camera turned on her to capture every moment. Very little useful has been mined from her, unlike the Model Eleven captured previously. Perhaps that is why the XO has become more lenient in permitting 'visitors' to her cell. And why the S2 even consented to the idea of the Five being given a 'gift' when a certain snipe requested such, and even to letting said snipe present it herself. The MPs will let Sofia in when she arrives. They probably welcome the company of something other than a glaring skinjob.
Sofia wasn't sure which book to bring. Poetry? A sketchbook? … coloring book? So she went with a sort of journal and a small novel on some hero. She's in her off duty greens, and pauses. Is this the right thing to do? Should she try to be friendly? There's a pang on remembering Eleven. Sofia hesitates at that. Either way, she takes a deep breath. "Thanks guys," A nod at the MPs. She's still faintly uneasy. Five is far from friendly but, it's worth a shot to try to understand her right? "Um. Hi?" Peer.
The MPs give Sofia a quick pat-down for any additional weapons or contraband. It wasn't so long ago that someone tried to assassinate the last skinjob held here, after all. Her journal and novel are taken, examined and - when deemed harmless enough - one MP steps toward the cell to deliver them. The other stands by outside it. Taser drawn. "Watch yourself. Last time we had anybody in that cell to give it more than food and water, it was that corpsman she tried to strangle with her bare hands."
The Five, for her part, does not immediately say anything. Though her regal, dark-eyed gaze does lock on Sofia when the snipe greets her. Staring at her. A little smile on her face. A soft, husky laugh starts in the creature's throat. It is not a particularly pleasant sound. One of haughtiness and contempt. The Five is laughing *at* you, not *with* you.
Sofia doesn't really like being patted down, but accepts it meekly. A nod. "Thanks. And I will then," She promises. There's an uneasy look at that story. She looks to Five, quiet for a moment. She lifts an eyebrow. "Well. I'm glad I'm entertaining if nothing else, huh?" Weird. It's more than a little disconcerting, actually. She looks back over to the strange woman, thoughtful. "Um." This is awkward, somewhat uneasy. But that's what she'd like huh? "I figured you might be bored. Do you read or write much?"
"I remember you." The Five's contralto voice is low. Just above a whisper. Her eyes flick from Sofia to MP as he enters her cell. She smiles at him. The MP drops her books on her cot and gets the hell out of there as quickly as humanly possible.
"Frakkin' psycho-job…" he mutters, locking her back up and retaking his post at guard by the door. His partner follows, holstering his taser.
The Five remained quite still while they entered her cell. When the MP has her under lock and key again, eyes go back to Sofia. "Little rodent. Yes. I remember you. You came to the husk those cockroaches had infested when my brothers and sisters abandoned this world."
Does the MP mean Sofia or Five? Sofia looks a little puzzled for a moment and more than a little worried if he means HER. Either way, she shakes her head and watches the man go. She looks back to the Five then and quirks her brow. "Yeah? Where did they go? That doesn't seem kind to leave you behind does it?" She blinks, looking puzzled. "Or did you want to stay here?"
"The roaches took me," the Five replies to that. "I could not depart with my brothers and sisters. I thought it was a curse. But I know differently now. God spoke to me. Perhaps I have fulfilled my purpose now…" She picks up the novel Sofia brought her. Flipping through it. "What stories do you tell, rodent?"
Sofia blinks again. "They did?" Sofia seems puzzled. "I see." She seems curious. "Fulfilled your purpose. That's - um, that's good I guess." Depending on what that purpose means for *Sofia*. She doesn't seem to turn it over much, it lingers like an unpleasant part of a dark story or horrible joke. "There's lots of stories. I wasn't sure what kind you thought of as good honestly, or if you preferred to write or draw," One eye closes. "So um, I apologize if that one's not the greatest. What kinds do you like?"
The Five does not verbally answer Sofia. Instead, she starts casually ripping the pages out of her book. Laughing softly as she does. Rip, rip, rip. After she's torn the pages from the spine of the book, she holds them between her hands and rips them further, into smaller pieces, which she throws like confetti above her head. She laughs that haughty, cruel laugh.
Well. Good thing that wasn't a rare or last copy. Sofia just lifts her eyebrows. "Sounds like a good time," She remarks wryly, bemused and somewhat pained by the book's destruction. "But y'know, next time just saying it's boring works." Sigh. "Either way." She'll figure out some way to pay back for that book. But that's a dilemma for another day. "You seem really interested in this purpose. May I ask what it was?"
"What hole do you come from by birth, little rodent?" The Five asks, in an almost sing-song sort of way, as she continues to destroy the book. Systematically ripping apart each page. There's a seeming contentment about her as she destroys it, page by page. She's savoring ripping it apart. "You do not sound like the cockroaches on Tauron. I grew *so* tired of their guttural mongrel noises. I dreamed at night of reaching into their throats with my hands and…" Rip, rip, rip. "…rending their vocal chords from them so they could not speak. It is a pollution to God's ears, I swear it, those animal noises…"
"Me? I'm from Aquaria. Where are you from?" She quietly ignores the insults. While seeing the book torn apart is painful, at least it wasn't one of tremendous worth - likely one of a duplicate. She quirks her brow, but says nothing. "Our accents are a bit different. I guess you're not a big fan of Tauron," Duh. She takes a deep breath. "God? Just one?" She tilts her head, trying to understand. Even if the word feels wrong on her lips without an s. Without ess. Just one? "I wonder what kind of God hates people talking? I haven't heard of one before. But I guess that's no surprise to you." She's slipping, feeling a bit ill about it all. There's a vague, quiet horror as if she looks and looks but can't turn away.
"Aquaria…oh yes…Aquaria…" The Five laughs one of those throaty, contempt-filled laughs. "When the roaches killed me the first time, rodent, the memories of my sisters filled me. Some of them had seen Aquaria boil away to wasted, burning nothingness. It was glorious, little rodent. The totality of it. All the filth, all that human waste, scorched away. That is a *cleansed* world now, little one. A world ripe for the coming of our promised age, as God has given us over the universe. Aquaria is a beautiful to God now." Dark, fervent eyes raise from the tatters of the book, to lock on Sofia again. "I only pity that we did not do the same to every world. That was our mistake, little rodent. A mistake I pray we shall correct soon enough."
That. Sofia's eyes are wide with horror. She closes her eyes tightly to stem the water. "I'm sorry you think of them that way. My family was there." She shakes her head, trying not to let the inward horror and pained. "But even you can't live there now. Nothing can. You guys would crash and die there too. Doesn't that seem pretty self defeating?" An eyebrow lifts. Her eyes are damp, and she's blinking hard. That bit hard. Inwardly, it feels sickly, light and heavy all at once. She takes a deep breath. "I'm not sure I really agree with that." She shakes her head. "I don't know what kind of God would be happy with such destruction and horror for us and you or your siblings." Miss Eleven. She just kind of closes her jaw a moment, hiding gritting her teeth.
"We will make new worlds, little rodent. Better worlds. Remake the worlds, for God, without the human stain." The Five throws the torn pages of her book about her cell some more. Scattering them as if playing a merry little game. She then picks up the journal. Also flipping its pages. Examining it with more apparent interest. At least, she does not immediately destroy it. "Had you and your rodent family not been so unworthy of God's greatness, perhaps we would not have had to cleanse the worlds as we did." Not that she sounds particularly sorry.
Sofia blinks, tilting her head. "How would you make entirely new planets?" She seems puzzled. She takes a deep breath. "I see," Sofia replies. It's something she SEES, not that she wants to. "You'll have to pardon me. I'd never heard of anyone really worshipping just one God," She's attempting some degree of understanding, though it sits ill and might be probing depths of insanity. "Do you like to write then?"
The Five does not respond to Sofia. But it does not appear she's going to rip up the journal. She opens on palm, placing it against the blank page. Staring at it.
Sofia pauses at that. She goes quiet, looking thoughtful. "Do you want some paint or ink?" She offers quietly. "Though, I dunno if that's allowed…" Maybe nothing SHARP but …
"Ink…" the Five mutters, still not looking up at Sofia. "…yes…"
Sofia nods at that. "Alright. I'll see when I can bring some ink by, okay?" Maybe a brush pen, but nothing sharp or strong. "Do you want just black or some colors?" headtilt.
"Red…" the Five mutters, still staring at the journal. "Black…and…red…"
Blink. Sofia seems surprised and nods. "Okay then, Miss. I will try to bring them back or have the MPs give them to you. I should get going though. I don't want to be a pest to you or the guards here," She remarks.
The Five does not answer Sofia. She is absorbed in some little black and red world of her own now. She looks down at the torn shreds of book that now litter the floor of her cell. Laughing that soft, eerie laugh of hers.
Right then. Loopier than a snake in a bowl of cereal. Sofia will make her escape, mentioning the Five's request to the MPs. "Dunno if she's allowed to have it, but it might prove interesting," She just whispers quietly.
The Five will be allowed black and red ink soft-tip pens. Tasers will be kept on hand to keep her from stabbing anyone with them. The MPs nod to Sofia. The Five remains in her cell, chuckling soft. *At* you, Sofia Wolfe. *At* you, not *with* you.