| How to Live |
| Summary: | Life is fragile and ephemeral. Sometimes, you have to grab your chance at happiness. |
| Date: | 25 Sep 2041 |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| CAG's Office — Deck 10 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Though it's not much bigger than the average ship supply closet, the office of the commander of Cerberus' air group has as much luxury as one can hope for aboard a battlestar: a hatch that locks. It is dominated by a blocky gray metal desk straight out of standard Navy supply. Behind it is the room's single indulgence, a high-backed rolling chair of almost comfortable-looking brown leather. That one, the CAG probably had to import herself. A few other chairs are shoved against the wall, able to be rolled over should visitors to the lair require one, though those are of the standard not-terribly-comfortable Navy offices variety. The aforementioned desk contains a computer that looks rarely touched and an ashtray of greenish glass that is obviously frequently used, as well as the standard office supplies. The surface is usually cluttered with files, squadron reports, flight schedules and other aerial bureaucratic sundry of the day. A metal carafe, filled with water or coffee or tea depending on the CAG's whim, is usually at hand on the desk's corner. The rest of the office is packed with filing cabinets and wall shelves, the latter of which hold various flight manuals and military and historical books. Any decorations on the walls are limited to professional awards and mementos from Major Hahn's past tours of service. It is largely devoid of the personal, save for one item: upon the shelf just behind and above her desk, serving as one side of a bookend to a collection of Raptor manuals, is a wooden statue of a small brown owl with very large eyes. A person might get the feeling of those eyes following him around this confined space. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #211 |
The hatch to Cidra's office is shut. Which is actually somewhat unusual when the CAG is in there and not with someone she needs to speak to privately. She tends to keep it slightly ajar when in residence and just knocking around. Nevertheless, it's here she came directly back to following their return from the Areion, and any flight officer back in their Air Wing's area of the cubicles could confirm her presence. Cidra has spent *a lot* of time alone in her office recently. More than usual following their return from Sagittaron, and she's only shut herself up here more since Captain Sikta's murder. Make of that what one will.
Psyche and Devlin both took advantage of the opportunity for shore leave on Aerilon, their 48 hours up the afternoon before the field trip to the Areion, for which they returned just in time. Afterwards, it seems they too have headed almost directly for the CAG's office and, after checking with those outside to be sure Cidra's in there and alone, they step up to the door, and Devlin knocks.
There's a length pause at the knock. To the point where one might wonder if the office actually /is/ occupied. Or, if it is, if the one on the other side will get any sort of answer. But Cidra's Gemenese alto finally does intone a vaguely clipped, "Come in, please." It's not locked.
Psyche fidgets and breathes in through her nose. Out through her mouth. Raking a hand back through her helmet-mussed hair. She casts a quick look at Devlin, flashing him an encouraging smile. "Here goes nothing."
Devlin hasn't got hair to be mussed, but he rubs at the top of his head anyhow, and returns a similar sort of smile. "You get to do the talking," he reminds, "Privilege of rank and all that." Beam. With that he's opening the door, holding it so Bubbles can precede him before stepping in and nodding politely, "Major."
Cidra is at her desk, buried in paperwork. Literally. She could build quite the impressive fort with the piles and piles and folders upon folders she's surrounded herself with. Hunched over as she is, only the top of her head is immediately visible over it. But her head does pop up, unburying her nose, when Psyche and Devlin enter. A cigarette is burning in her ashtray, and the small space is not, precisely, comfortable to be in for a non-smoker when she's puffing away. She doesn't offer to put it out, however. "Lieutenant Athenos. Midshipman Devlin." She just says their names, eyeing them and waiting for them to state their business.
Psyche's eyes widen at Devlin and she seems about to argue. Stridently. But then they're inside, and the Major is looking a them all expectant, and she is well-and-truly On the Spot. Frak. She clears her throat and salutes the CAG. "Sir," she begins. And might as well end there, for as quickly as a follow up comes to her. She darts another quick look at her companion — he is in SO much trouble — but seeing as how the silence is drawing kind of long (mere seconds in reality, but y'know), she cracks under the pressure and blurts, "Sir, we'd like your permission to marry." A beat. "Each other." Yeah.
Devlin watches Cidra eye them, and then turns to look at the pilot beside him as she freezes. He isn't in time to catch the look he gets, and is just about to jump in and save her when Psyche finds the words (or at least some words) on her own. "Each other," he confirms anyway, just in case that needed extra emphasis. "We won't be planning to do anything public," he jumps in to explain, "Because we'd rather not take away from Marko and Lunair or time away from my training or anything, but there's paperwork and stuff, still, that we'd like to turn in and need you to sign off on."
Cidra is reviewing what, on the surface, appears to mind-numbingly boring Deck bureaucracy. Old maintenance reports and duty schedules. The date of the ones she's pouring over at the moment is 6 Jun 2041 AE. Logs of Viper and flight suit maintenance, mostly. One stack dedicated to work on a particular Raptor. Certain things are highlighted. The CAG's mind was obviously well wrapped up in them, as she has to blink a time or two to drag herself out of it. At the question, she blinks again. Surprised. That was…a query she wasn't expecting. For a moment she just stares at the pair of them. Then, she smiles. The barest hint of a smile, but it does touch her cloudy blue eyes. "Well. All right, then. When were you planning on doing this?"
"Right. I mean, just the two of us and the Sister, was what we were thinking," Psyche agrees with Devlin, babbling nervously. "I mean, not that anyone's uninvited, or anything, we just thought we should keep it simple and… uhm… what Alex said." Breathe, girl. She does. And looks immensely relieved when the CAG smiles, however faintly. "Uhm. Soon, sir. Just as soon as we can." She glances distractedly at the stack of papers closest to her, frowning slightly for a moment.
Devlin reaches discreetly over to touch Psyche's hand as she babbles, not taking it, but sliding his fingers briefly down the back of her arm in a way that's meant to be calming. "Yeah, just low-key," he says, nodding again, and then once more, echoing his apparent fiance, "In the next couple days, we were hoping," he replies, also seeming relieved at that smile from Cidra, and returning it with a broader, warmer one of his own as he goes on, "We have to pick up the paperwork from JAG, and fill it out, and I guess somebody has to witness that so we're listed officially and stuff. But yeah."
"Ah." Cidra nods. "That does sound nice." She clears her throat. "I shall, of course, get all the necessary paperwork through properly." She pauses. That settles it, really, but she seems on point of saying something more. But arguing with herself about saying it. Finally she asks, almost shyly, "May I attend?"
Psyche blinks, jaw actually dropping open a little at the CAG's request. But the expression is immediately replaced by a big, bright smile — warm and very much present in her eyes. "Of course, sir," she replies, apparently confident that her intended concurs — but glancing quickly at him, all the same. "We'd be honored and delighted."
Devlin does concur, both in the moment of surprise, and in the question's actual answer. "Of course," he echoes, that wide smile reappearing as he pauses and nods, chin jerked briefly to indicate Psyche, "What she said." After a beat his smile tips crookedly, and his tone drifts towards lightly teasing as he warns the major, "She's probably going to insist on showing you the ring or something now, you know. She's been dying to show somebody but we thought we should check with you first."
"I like weddings," Cidra says, still smiling that little smile as she looks between the pair of them. It's likely the first time she's smiled in…awhile. She's never one for particularly large expressions, but this seems to have genuinely made her a bit happy. "Thank you."
"Ohmigosh, yes!" Psyche enthuses, fumbling her dogtags out from beneath her shirt. The ring — simple, elegant band of gold set with a modest diamond — is worn on the chain. She quickly transfers the ring to her hand, bounding over to show the major. "Isn't it beautiful?" It's just a little big for her, but apparently she's found time to remedy that with some string. "I never wanted to take it off, but — " she flashes a grin at Devlin. "What he said."
"This'll be the first wedding I ever go to where nobody's trying to set me up with anyone," Devlin half-jokes, before biting his lip to hold on a grin as Psyche does indeed bounce over to show off that she's got a ring. His hands in his pockets, he returns her grin, standing back out of the way and just watching.
Cidra reaches out to take Psyche's hand and draw it toward her, so she can get a better look at the ring. She just stares at it, smiling that little, now rather bittersweet, smile. Is she getting a touch misty? Perhaps. "That is quite lovely, Bubbles. Quite lovely…you two are very fortunate, you know? After so much loss…you are very fortunate."
"Yes, sir," Psyche agrees, softly, looking once more to Devlin. She gazes at him a moment, heart in her eyes, before turning her attention back to the CAG. "We know. I think…" Another quick glance at Devlin. "I think — that's part of why we just want to do this. And not wait. When life gives you a chance at happiness, you've just gotta… grab onto it, y'know? And make the absolute most of every second you've got." She smiles, though her own expression in a little melancholy, now. "I think… it's probably the best way. Even when things aren't… like they are now. We just get complacent and we forget. How fragile and ephemeral it all is." She swallows. "I hope we all remember, years from now. I hope we always remember how to live."
"It was my mother's," Devlin says of the ring, adding sideways to Psyche, "I'm not sure if I told you that. And yeah," he nods, at both of them really, and continues nodding for a moment, though he doesn't otherwise interrupt Psyche when she speaks. "That's definitely part of it," he says after she's through, "It seems silly to wait, you know? We're so insanely blessed to've found this," he shrugs a little, "We don't want to regret not making the most of it."
"Fragile and ephemeral…yes…So say we all…" Cidra mutters, letting go of Psyche's hand. Some very rapid blinking ensues. She looks not at either pilot, but down and around at the piles upon piles of paper she's built around herself. She clears her throat then raises her (now clear) eyes back to them. "You are very blessed. I shall get all the necessary permissions in order on my end. Dismissed, please, Athenos. Devlin." It's a polite but not terribly subtle 'Go away.'
Psyche nods, stepping back. "Yes, sir. Thank you. Very much." She hesitates just a second, then hurriedly precedes her betrothed from the office.
"Thank you, sir," Devlin says sincerely as well, also hesitating for a beat, but not saying anything else before following the pilot out.
Cidra rises from her desk and closes the hatch behind Psyche and Devlin. It is locked once they're gone. Any further knocks will not be answered for the next hour or so.
~fin