PHD #139: Evocatio
Summary: CMES comes to escort the new god to the temple.
Date: 15 July 2041
Related Logs: None
Bannik Devlin Sofia Cidra Karthasi NPC 
Deck, yo.
Post-Holocaust Day: #234

It's like those shark movies before the shark appears. Tyr Bannik is having a nice, normal, average day on the Deck. He has a clipboard in hand; he's shouting at some Crewman Apprentice to help him with getting ordinance off of the work bench and onto a carrier. "Come on! Nice and easy now! It's firing fuses are fixed, but that doesn't mean you can shove it around like a Pyramid ball."

Devlin comes onto the deck from the stairs, looking around curiously, as if he's never been here before despite the uniform he's wearing. The mention of pyramid (or maybe it's just the raised voice in general) catches his ear and he turns, looking towards Bannik, steps moving vaguely in that direction while he continues to turn his head this way and that to take it all in, and make sure he doesn't get run over by a raptor or something.

Sofia is pushing a rolling toolkit, likely for some lucky Deckie. She hums, her own tools around her belt jangling as she moves along. She hears Bannik and smiles, looking over that way.

Cidra is prowling the deck in her flight suit, as she is wont to do. She's currently near a Raptor, chatting with an orange-suited deckhand about the proper care and feeding of the beast.

Despite Bannik's fussing — Bannik is always fussing, it seems — it really doesn't take all that long to move the missile off of the work bench and onto the ordinance carrier. He then turns and begins marking off the requisite boxes on his form, beginning to walk towards one of the benches where paperwork can be filed and put away by someone else later. "Whew. That's the last of it for the shift today," he says to no one in particular. Famous last words.

Amid the usual clashes and crashes and screeches of machinery rolling on deck, something at once more rhythmic and more organic begins to coalesce— music. Finger-cymbals and drums such as once covered the cries of the infant Zeus in the hands of the raging Corybantes, now, in the hands of the Cerberus' Ecclesiastical Staff, make a noise that, along with a wild shouting, begins to fight with the clamor on deck for the attention of those nearest the hatch and the off-duty area adjoining.

Sofia is nudging the toolbox to Bannik and his Apprentice. She smiles at Devinlin in passing. And a Cidra too! "Hey, is there a Crewman Appr—" She is cut short by all the noise and lifts her head.

Devlin has been distracted from his progress, peering curiously at a ship mid-repair as deckies move around it when that noise begins, and he turns to look for the source. The procession of the shouting, isntrument-playing staff easily distracts him yet again, and he steps back, just barely out of their way as they head towards Bannik, but close enough to lean over and ask over the clamor: "What's going on?"

Cidra catches Sofia's smile, returning it with the barest curve of her own lips. It's a friendly expression, such as the CAG ever looks particularly friendly. Though the ting of music forestalls any other greeting or further conversation of things-Raptor. Head turns toward the Ecclesiastical, chin arching at the music. She seems to recognize the import of the sounds, lips curving another notch.

Temple attendants in gold and purple garb some to guard the hatchway, and Captain Karthasi herself strikes out over the threshold with a staff like a spear, inverted, which clashes on the deck like a gong ringing out. "Te simul, Tyrbannik, Orestes Rex, quae nunc ueios colis, precor…" she steps over the threshold, finding her mark. "Nos adulantes sequere: ubi te dignum amplitudine tua templum accipiat," she states aloud, thrusting the rod out toward Bannik, that he might take it, or not.

"Oh, goodness." Bannik really should have asked more questions before he volunteered for this gig. He blushes a bright red; so much attention on him! But he seems to have a sense he should take the staff, and so he does, bowing his head before the priestess as she invokes her — words — over him.

Sofia would salute, but then a rolling tool chest might bean a deckie or dent a bird. That wuold be no go. She seems happy after Cidra smiles just a hair. She looks over at all the words. They seem unfamiliar, but she is wide-eyed. She stops in her trek to deliver the box and watches, intent.

Karthasi raises up a cry of adoration as Orestes takes up his sceptre, and it's taken up in turn by the attendants with her, who come forward in their turns to wrap the Mountain King in draped cloths of sacred hue, and touch his face with the red paint of the Lord, and crown him in a golden fillet, and… have off with him.

Cidra's head tilts a notch moreso at the words Karthasi speaks. She seems to follow them, a spark in her blue eyes alighting. Gaze goes to Bannik, and her inscrutable smile is directed at him now. She's not, precisely, a smiley creature by nature. So he can make of the expression what he will.

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