| Making Marks |
| Summary: | Greje invites the crew at large to come and make its mark upon the vestibule wall. Punch and pie. |
| Date: | 20 BCH |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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Karthasi is puttering about the chapel, one of the panels in the vestibule open to display some storage space underneath the bleachers, the priest ducking in and out again, carrying paint cans by their handles in each hand and taking them out to set out in front of the pews. Setting up for tonight's activities, no doubt. One earpiece clipped to her ear hooks up to a music player affixed to a belt loop, and her head moves a little from side to side as she sets up, a little bit of off-tune humming coming from the Priestling.
At some point during the in and out of it all, Korwyn steps into the vestibule of the temple. She stills as the priest bops a bit and a faint smile quirks her lips. After waiting until paint cans have been set down, she takes a sidled sort of step to appear in the priest's peripherial vision. Lifting a hand, she salutes. The movement is sharp, smart and precise, "Excuse me, sir. I was hopin
' t' bend yer ear for a moment'r two. B'fore things get busy… If y' don't mind?"
Karthasi stands up straight, all of a sudden, form rigid as a post for a moment before she grabs down the earpiece with one hand and fumbles off a salute with the other, seemingly for the simple sake of allowing Korwyn to cease. "Not at all, no, no, not at all, do come in, you're welcome here," she begins, sort of awkwardly, as she tries to get the headpiece to stop singing in its tinny tones at her hip. Buttons, buttons… there. It stops. "Please, feel at home. I'm Greje. Greje Karthasi. Or Sister Karthasi, if you'd like," she goes on, indicating that all the sirring and saluting isn't necessary. "How can I serve you?" she asks, gesturing freely down past the sloping walls of the vestibule.
Watching, Korwyn takes it all in. Her lips twitch once, then a smile blooms. It is a quick and easy thing, an expression more suited to her face and relaxed enough to be common place. "R'lax, Sister. I don't bite. Cross my heart." Despite the rank she carries, Korwyn is a bit on the older than normal side for a JG. Lowering the salute, she clasps her hands behind her back, then angles toward the pews. "Thanks." This is accompanied by a side-long glance to the priest. "I was jus' swingin' in to see about when services'd be offered. Or, are you goin' to do the casual thing instead?" Oh, there is amusement tinging the respect in her tone along with a hint of familiairity and relief. "Looks like you're gearin' up for a hootenany?"
"Oh—" Greje looks down to the paint cans, "Yes; I posted notices in the berthings this morning; I hope people will see them in time. We're going to paint the vestibule, get to meet and mingle; just whoever's interested," she adds with a meek little smile of dismissal, as though she's not expecting much of a turnout. "As to services, well; so far, all we've decided on is a daily Theoxeny. We're going to switch off shifts, so that everyone will have a chance to get to at least one Theoxeny every four days. Other than that, our schedules are wide open, we're going to see where peoples' interests lie, and then put together a schedule of services to fit. If we have a lot of interest in, say, Apollo, we'll schedule a set of services to fill that need. And we're always available to perform personal rites and services, if your tastes in cult are on the more eclectic side. You only need to contact our offices. We're here to serve your needs."
Korwyn nods to the information on the painting, "Ah, right. Must've missed th' postin's as I've been kinda-sorta on tour an'… stuff." The near profanity is curbed and a suitable substitution made. As you speak, she turns and begins to walk semi-backwards until her legs come into contact with the back of the first pew. "Sounds kinda confusin', sister. But, if you c'n keep track, I suppose I c'n find a slot to come down an' do m'duty by the Gods." Her devotion, while lightly stated, is clearly sincere. "I'll come down t' help paint, if I ain't on duty. Have t' change int' civies, though. Or off-duty kit." Licking her lips, she lowers her gaze for a moment, then looks up again, "Uh. Wouldja have time for a short blessin', do y' think? I ain't said word one t' Artemis'n more'n a week and I don't want'er thinkin' I've lost int'rest. Y'know?"
"Oh, that's alright. It's only a little get-together, I'm sure everyone will meet everyone else soon enough," Greje replies, folding her arms low across her chest and settling in across from Korwyn with her feet at shoulder width. "Artemis," she repeats, "It takes a hardy soul to keep up with the mountains-ranging goddess," she goes on, "Of course, just let me… hm," she finagles her music player off of her hip and wraps the cord around it to stow in a lower cargo pocket, standing straight again and feeling at least somewhat less like a teenager loitering at the mall and more like a priest tending to her flock. "Did your family follow Artemis, or did she call for you herself? Or both?" Greje puts the option out there.
Korwyn nods to the information about the get-together, "I'd like t' meet th' others." With that, she kind of lets it fall to one side; perhaps to be picked up again later. Her stance remains casual, arms folding slowly upwards and legs slightly spread. She leans a bit, one hip canted to one side. "Oh, th' folks're mostly Demeter an' Hestia. Farmin' folk, y'see." Although the goddesses are less… volitile… than her own, she clearly respects them as well. "Lady Artemis spoke t' me when I was lookin' for work after a tradin' company folded. I've been hers since." Clearing her throat a bit, she lifts a hand just a little, "I b'lieve she guides my flyin'. I know it ain't really her thing normally, but…" Her shrug is a gentle thing, the smile a little lopsided. "I ain't goin' to argue."
"She's a harsh mistress, but she keeps her own," Greje lowers her voice just a little bit, stepping closer, "Keeps them and looks to them in all things," she adds, "Keeps their feet on the right path, whether in the choral dances or on the wooded paths, on the battlefields or in the air," she weaves some prayer structure into her words, "It doesn't matter. She guides them with purity of spirit and correctness of action in all things. This is where the goddess lives." Her voice has lapsed into the familiar ebb and tide, the soothing cycles of ritual speech like the waves on the shore, soothing and repetitive, nothing the worshipper hasn't heard before; no new information, but something comforting in hearing the same sentiments, the same words.
Initially, Korwyn does not recognize that the Priestess has begun. She nods, her smile pleasent. Then, when realization hits, she blinks, stills and lowers to kneel with her back straight and head bowed. Her hands cross, each coming to rest on the opposit shoulder. Her eyes focus on the other woman's feet and she murmurs an answer, "Reviered be th' Huntress. May she guide m' way all th' days'f my life." Her voice is neither monotone, nor melodious, though ritual calls to ritual and finds it's ken.
Karthasi aligns her thumbnail to the inner base of her middle finger, keeping her other hand straight at her side and lifting the one so poised to hold out a little ways from the side of Korwyn's head. "You who tame beasts and men; you who set reins on the horned mountain hinds and set men to good works in the cities, whose delight is in the trees and the bests of the woods, whose delight is in purity of heart and all things unspoiled, untouched, unseen; Leucian Lady, Haemian Goddess, be here. Be with us. Bend down your head and hear the words offered from the chaste heart of your follower," she continues. She's standing near the base of the pews toward the port side of the room. "So say we all." There are cans of paint out and ready, as well as a bin full of brushes and sponges and what-have-yous. Two trays are set up, as well, to either side of the altar. One bearing two pies and a big plate of cookies, the other a liter of milk, a liter of wine, and a caraffe full of tea, with cups and plates stacked on the remainder of the tray.
Cidra ventures into the chapel. Dressed down in off-duties, numerous tattoos on display, an air of calm about her as she makes her way in. She pauses a moment, just taking a beat to look around the place. Assess it with cool blue-gray eyes. It seems to meet with whatever standards she has for her places for worship, so she ventures further in. Stride taking her toward where Karthasi and Korwyn as situated, though she's careful not to interrupt.
Korwyn remains still as a statue, her gaze lowered. She kneels before Karthasi, arms crossed over her chest and hands resting on her shoulders. When the Priestess completes the ritual, she breaths a very quiet, "So say we all." Her tone is warm and relaxed. Looking up as she rises, the JG takes Karthasi's hands in hers, "Thanks, Sister. Means a lot t' me." Movement catches her gaze and she turns a quick glance to Cidra. Again the smile that warms her face lites, "Major." Then she blinks and looks back to Karthasi, "I'll be back inna bit. Don't wanna get paint on m' good clothes."
Alessandra arrives not long after Cidra does, one of the newer pilots to have been given orders aboard the Cerberus. Dressed fairly casually, she looks as if she feels a bit out of place, her gaze darting here and there, her expression nervous. A place to stand just inside the room is eventually found and claimed where she takes to observing for now.
Laskaris arrives from the Deck 9.
Laskaris has arrived.
Karthasi leans forward just a little bit, grabbing Korwyn's hands crossed-wise in hers and helping the woman up with a strength of being one wouldn't assume in a form that looks so frail. "I'm here to serve you. Never hesitate to ask," she goes on. "Do come, she adds, turning aside to look to Cidra with a shy little smile, lifting a hand to her temple to push back a bit of hair. "Welcome," she tells her. "Goodness, is it time to start? I haven't opened the paint tins, yet," she frets a little, bit smiles, no less, stepping toward Cidra to greet her, "I'm Greje. Karthasi," she adds her last name. Sister Karthasi, if you like. Hello," she adds, to Alessandra, voice meek but tone welcoming, nonetheless.
Now that's an odd sight. A pilot and a marine arm in arm, chatting amicably. It's no secret anyway, as Maia comes into the chapel in her offduty uniform with Archer by her side. She grins as she eventually finds the chapel and peers in, rhmming for a few moments. "The chaplain should be here. I think you two will get along, she's a rather nice lady." she tells him before motioning towards Karthasi. "There she is!"
"Lieutenant Korwyn." Cidra offers the faintest of smiles and nods of recognition to the Viper pilot. Her attention is mostly on Karthasi, however. Her manner is purposeful, not particularly shy, and there's a studying quality in her eyes as she regards Greje. "Sister Karthasi. I am sorry I have not met you earlier. The affairs of the mundane world have made me neglect certain niceties." She does sound truly apologetic. "I am Cidra Hahn." She extends a hand to the chaplain. Her voice is tinged with an unmistakeable drawl common on Gemenon. She does not seem aware of the others entering the chapel for the moment, her focus all on the padre.
Korwyn steps back as the Priest moves to speak to Cidra. She waves just a little to the Major as she ducks past, then slips past Maia and her beau with a quickly whispered " 'Scuse me, please." Aerilon born, the pilot is, none the less, at least semi-couth. Once out of the chapel, she hurries off toward the lift and is soon lost to sight and sound.
Chris Hellicon only heard of the party a few minutes ago, but wasn't going to miss it for anything. He was cleaned up, but had heard something about pain being a integral part of the party, so he decided to stick to his work fatigues. They usually see more crud than anyone elses… He hasn't met a majority of the people here, although he does sees his friend, Maia Westfield, mingling through the gathered people.
Archer walks in, grinning, with his hair all a mess. He looks a bit weary and a little slow on his feet — as if he'd just woken up from a short nap of sorts — and he looks over the crowd, before asking of Maia, "You said painting earlier, right?" in a low tone. As the Chaplain is pointed out, he looks in the woman's direction.
"She's speaking with the CAG, we'd best not interrupt." Maia tells Archer, hopping up to try to fix his hair. It's cut short so it can't be that bad right? Still, she looks around once more and spies the LSO, giving a cheery wave to him. "Glad to see you could make it as well." she says, unwrapping her arm from the marine's to give the deck crewman a warm hug. "Wonder if a lot of people are gonig to show up." she says, her brows raising as she looks back towards Archer and Hellicon a bit.
"Oh— that's— quite alright, Major Hahn. Or— Cidra?" Greje goes on, tentatively feeling out first-name rights instead of barrelling on ahead into familiarity. "I understand completely. It's very nice to meet you," she adds, reaching out to take that hand and give it a firm not not overly aggressive handshake. A bit stiff, a little reserved, but that simply seems to be her manner. "There's pie, here—" she notes, lifting her voice just a little so that those just entering can be informed, as well, "Um, and cookies. Oh, hello, Maia," she greets the woman with a little dip of her head before she looks back to the Major. "And there are drinks, as well. Please. Everyone. Do make yourselves at home."
"Sister," Allie says in return with a smile, Karthasi's greeting doing well to put her at ease. She finally begins to mingle, the room slowly transversed as the newly arrived are taken in, all faces she barely recognizes, if she does at all, each person watched as she tries to place which people are whom.
As Korwyn leaves, another arrives. Laskaris enters the chapel, pausing several steps inside the threshold. He looks around, slate-colored eyes sweeping over those that are already here. His gaze settles on Karthasi as the chaplain begins to speak, and Anton's brow ticks upward skeptically at the mention of cookies. Despite her entreaties, he hesitates, lingering at the back of the room.
At the mention of 'pie,' Archer lets his arm drop from Maia's and starts off towards the food. He is a marine afterall, manners are not their forte. He seems to remember them a few steps later, and turns to ask over his shoulder, "You want some pie?" No, 'too' but, its pretty clear he is going to get a slice for himself at least.
Hellicon smiles and nods to Maia as she speaks. "You know me, I'm not going to miss a party if I know about it," he says as the chaplain mentions food… "Oooo, cake," he says as he makes a beelin to the buffet… Mmmmmm… "I don't see the drinks?"
"I'd love a piece. And maybe a slice of the cake too." Maia chirps brightly as she smiles cheerily, flashing a bright one, pearly whites, to the Chaplain. She even offers a hug, cause she's just that kind of girl. "Chaplain, that's Captain Archer. He was recently promoted to. Kellan, this is the chaplain, Sister Karthasi."
There are cans of paint out and ready, as well as a bin full of brushes and sponges and what-have-yous. Two trays are set up, as well, to either side of the altar. One bearing two pies and a big plate of cookies, the other a liter of milk, a liter of wine, and a caraffe full of tea, with cups and plates stacked on the remainder of the tray.
"Cidra, please," the woman replies. She accepts the shake but doesn't really return it. She just clasps Karthasi' hand and looks into the chaplain's eyes. There's a somewhat inscrutable quality about her gaze. "I hope we know each other better later, Sister." She does not let go of the woman's hand right away but leans forward, aiming to kiss Karthasi. Full on the lips, though it's a sisterly, rather formal gesture. That done, she inclines her head to Karthasi and steps away to examine the pie.
Hellicon slices a piece of what appears to be a Chocolate Dobash Cake out for himself as he takes one of the nearby plates, placing the sinfully delicious-looking cake on it. Seconds later, he finds the liter of Milk and pours a full glass for himself… Can't eat Dobash with the milk!
Archer gets himself a slice of cherry pie, and then turns again as he hears his name called. He probably missed the whole 'get me a peice of cake' business, as he seems a bit surprised at the words about him. He watches Maia for a moment, then, pours himself a glass of wine. Then pours a second glass of wine, and starts to attempt to carry all the things he's poured and the plate he's filled over to where Maia stands. It is a slow, ungainly looking process.
Alessandra is lured in by the thought of food like many of the others, her own path bringing her to the tray of cookies which she looks at with a smile that grows wider by the scond. "This looks very good. All of it." A plate is taken and a few treats are placed upon it, a couple cookies soon followed by a slice of the same cake Hallicon just served himself. There's nothing dainty about how she does it all, the pilot's tomboyishness showing through.
Hellicon sees Archer struggling with all the stuff he's having to carry and immediately goes to help, placing his plate onto a nearby table. "Here, let me help," he says as he takes a few of the items from him to relieve the cumbersome burden. "Where to?"
Karthasi leaves her hand kind of awkwardly in Cidra's, not sure why she still has it, or why she's— getting— so— close? Cheeks flush red and for a moment she looks as though she might panic, thoughts racing a mile a minute through her mind for a moment until she realizes what's going on. The panic fades, the flush evens out, and she returns the kiss in the spirit in which it was offered, then parts company with the Major with a gentle smile and a quiet nod. And, while the others are getting themselves fed and watered, she goes to make the rounds and pry the lids off of the paint cans.
"I can take that!" Maia chirps at the pie that was sliced for her afterall. She beams brightly at both men as she motions towards a group of seats and eases on down. "Thanks Kel." she tells Archer before sitting down, crossing her legs to get a tad bit more comfortable. "So how are things on deck, Chris? Found any more lemons?" she says once she's all nice and settled. "And have you met your CO yet, hun?" she asks the marine.
Lasher is standing as straight as a rod, as if uneasy. However, his uneasiness is only temporary; after several moments of lingering on the periphery, he finally makes his way through the crowd towards the table, waiting for the line of officers serving themselves to thin out before moving in on the food and drink himself. A critical eye sweeps over the selection; his eyes linger on the wine before he settles on a cup of tea instead.
If Cidra is aware of the momentary bit of panic she caused Karthasi, she shows no sign of it. She forgoes the wine but does get herself a piece of cherry pie and water to wash it down with. "Good eve, Lieutenant Westfield. Captains." A somewhat familiar smile is offered to Maia, Hellicon and Archer, along with an inclination of her head.
"Of course I've met the CO. Wonderful person." Archer replies as he lets Hellicon take one of the plates or something, motioning in the vague direction of Maia. As he arrives, he adds, "Can't make it tonight though I don't think. New squad coming in and I greeted the last group." He then takes a long sip of his wine, and nods to Cidra simply as she addresses him.
"Excuse me. May I help?" Having noticed how Karthasi has started to open the cans of paint, Alessandra opts for offering her assistance instead of going to find a place to sit, her plate of treats set aside momentarily. "I might not be able to paint but I can at least do this…" A quick, vague gesture is given towards the tins.
Hellicon nods and smiles as he fetches his plate and glass, then sits at the table with Maia and Archer. "Thankfully no, although I'm going over each manitenance report for every bird we have with a fine tooth comb. For the most part, I'm happy with the repair state of the wing, but I know Cag will want to see my reports," he says as Cidra greets. "Evening Cag, how are you tonight?"
Karthasi briefly looks up to Lasher, wondering at his staying back. But before she can approach, he seems to have gotten into the swing of things, and she watches him go with a mild little smile and a little nod. She startles at the voice next to her, then, hand flying to her chest, paint-lid and all, and her half-opened sweatshirt becomes the first paint casualty of the night, a circle of yellow broken with a slice where the zipper's undone. "Oh!" she says, once she's gotten her wits back, "Of course, please, that would be nice of you. Why can't you paint?" she wonders.
"Don't pull any pranks on him. Remember when Admiral Cain made us do latrine duty?" she says with a hearty laugh before she sits up straight at the presence of the CAG. Maia flashes a bright smile towards the older woman and nods. "Evening, Major Hahn. Did you try the pie yet? It's fabulous." she says afer swallowing her first bite. "Any more Raptor pilots or ECOs come in yet?" If anyone would know, it's the CAG afterall.
And Maia quickly forgot Hellicon. Oh noes. "Oh that's great. Well let me know if you need any extra hands on deck." she tells him.
"I am well, LSO," Cidra replies to Hellicon mildly, and a bit whimsically. She pronounces the title 'Elle-Es-O.' "And I do want to see those reports, but such things can wait for more duty-bound moments. As for the Raptors, some of the squads have seen new personnel arrived, yes, though I do not know if any specifically for the Harriers. We shall all fill out soon enough." She takes a bite of her cherry pie, letting out a soft "Mmmm" in satisfaction.
Hellicon nods and smiles. "Well Cag (that's pronounced… Well… Cag), you know where to find me. Maybe I can convince you to pull a wrench or two while I give you the rundown," he says with a smile to her, taking a bite of his Dobash… "Mmmmmm… Chocolate…"
Archer is in the middle of eating some of his pie when Maia speaks up. He shrugs a little at her, swallows, and then says, "Everyone is fair game as far as I'm concerned. They don't like it, well, they can get me back sometime." He then digs into the pie again, just eating away happily.
For the moment, Lasher seems content to take his tea off to the sidelines and drink in solitude. He takes a sip, smacking his lips quietly; a moment later, after a subtle look side to side, a surreptitious reach into his uniform produces a flask, the contents of which top off his mug. Eyes light up as he takes another sip of the newly-augmented beverage; a curious eye watches Karthasi as the chaplain and an unfamiliar woman begin opening several cans of paint.
Alessandra crouches down and smiles, her eyes narrowed slightly in a sheepish wince. "I'm not very artistic," she admits with no small amount of embarrassment to be heard. "Stick figures I can do. Anything else…forget it." Looking around, Allie takes another look around before getting down to business while giggling over the bright yellow that now stains the clergywoman's top. "Yellow's your color."
A quick change in pace comes in as Chris takes a drink of his milk to help wash the obscenely delicious cake down. "So guys," he says to Maia and Archer. "What all happened aboard Pegasus after I left? Last thing I heard was the Cole Taylor was stringing pilots up left and right for stupid crap."
Cidra chuckles softly in response to Hellicon. The continued use of the title 'CAG' at her seems to amuse her a little. "I usually leave the repairs to those who actually know their business on the bids. But we shall speak soon of those matters. I am more interested in what Sister Karthasi has planned for us tonight." While she doesn't precisely wolf her pie she puts it away quickly, observing the padre and Alessandra with the paint.
Archer shrugs a little at the question from Chris. He is down to working on the crust of his pie already. Apparently he liked it. "I dunno anything bout that. Know in my division we were working on readying up for boarding training. I was working out playing OPFOR..or…the folk boarding the Pegasus."
Maia pffts as she looks towards Archer with a soft little snicker. "Just be careful and don't get in trouble too much." she warns, sighing as she has to play mom to him at times. She then ooohs and peers back towards Hellicon, hrmming as she steals a piece of the cake with her fork. "Mmmm, it is good!" she says happily as she's in the land of chocolate right now. At the question, she blinks and is brought back to reality by the CAG as well. "Oh, some uneventful stuff. We both got promoted though." she says cheerily.
Karthasi collects the top upon a stack of others, and she smiles softly as she regards Alessandra. "That's an artistic judgement," she reminds the woman, in regards to her commentary on her sweatshirt's new dye job. "You don't have to be able to draw people to be artistic. You only have to like shape and color and light and dark and getting messy and having fun," she encourages her gently. "I have some pre-shaped sponges in the bin, you can put up stamps, or… get your hands messy and put up handprints, draw stripes or waves or suns or hearts or… whatever the Muse strikes you with." She lifts both shoulders in a little shrug, tipping her head to the side. "You don't have to be a poet to hear their voices in your thoumos," she goes on, using one of the scriptural words typically translated 'heart' or 'soul' or 'will.'
"Hey, get your own Maia," Chris says with a chuckle as he looks to Archer and nods. "I seem to remember some of the scuttlebutt aboput that exercise… Taylor, being the typical ass he is, said he didn't want the marines anywhere near 'his' planes… Now, I may not be a Marine, but I sure hell understand the reason for the exercises from a leadership point of view."
Cidra washes down her pie with a long drink of water, inclining her head again to Maia, Archer and Hellicon and leaving them to their conversation when her snacking is done. She approaches Karthasi and Alessandra. "Have you anything particular in mind for the painting here, Sister?" she inquires of the chaplain.
Something about all that moves Lucky and, once she pries open the can she wound up kneeling before, this one a sky blue, she puts the flat of her hand right into it. "Messy. I can do messy," Alessandra says while in the middle of a giggle. The result of such action's halted as Cidra approaches them, drawing her away from her 'artistic musings', her eyes wide, reacting as if she is a child who just got caught stealing cookies.
Archer works on drinking his wine. He looks over at Chris as he comments about the Marines and exercises. He smiles just a little bit, "Actually, I just think its lots of fun to run around a ship and sim shooting everyone," he comments in a very light tone.
From afar, Glory laughs. "I figured. :)
"You would like shooting people." Maia says with a coy grin towards the marine before she sticks her tongue out cheerily towards the LSO. "Here you can have a bite of the pie." she says matter of factly, offering him some while she picks up her glass of wine and takes a sip. "Mmm, it's a dessert wine, light and fruity. I think I may be able to handle more than one glass and not get drunk." She is a major lightweight when it comes to alcohol afterall.
Karthasi stands up, leaving Alessandra to pry open the rest of the paint cans, giving Cidra a quiet smile and a little shrug of her shoulders. "Whatever people would like. On Diomedes we used to do murals for all the major festal days. This paint comes down with just a little cleanser, so it isn't just a one-time activity. Since the Anthesterion isn't for another couple of weeks, I thought we'd just have some free paint time, get to know one another, and kind of make this place our own, you know?" her hands flail a little bit with those last words, as if trying to put it into words. "Let people coming in know that this is a place where people are themselves, and they shouldn't be afraid to be themselves, either. So just… be yourself. Put up whatsoever you'd like. Just nothing too offensive or controversial. We have to share this space, after all. But I'm sure that won't be a problem."
Hellicon chuckles a bit and nods. "I totally understand. it's like me and flying… Although I can't fly anymore due to the Meyrchords Syndrome, I still can use the simulators and play a bit," he says with a smile as he takes a forkful of the pie and eats it… "Mmmmm… That /is/ good…" He then casually takes the plate from in front of Maia and goes to town on the pie.
Cidra lets out a soft "Ahh" sound as Karthasi explains, blue eyes drifting around the interior of the chapel. As if trying to get a better feel for the place. "I am not an artist by talent, but I would be most joyed to help decorate these walls." She notes Alessandra's behavior, head tilting with some puzzlement. "Are you quite all right Lieutenant…Sophronia." It takes her a moment to call the name to mind but she does manage it.
"Hmmm…oh, yes, sir. Just not used to being caught playing with paint is all," Alessandra replies to the CAG with a wry grin. The paint-covered hand drips light blue as she holds it aloft, the pilot having enough forethought to at least keep it held over the can so she won't make a mess on the deck. "Excuse me, please. Should give this a shot before the paint grows too tacky."
Archer wanders over to the paint himself, looking at the various colors and the like. He finishes off his wine, sets the glass aside, and then picks up a brush. He shrugs a little at Chris' words, "Yeah, I suppose. Somethin like that at least. I can't say I've ever really enjoyed flying so much. Always that chance of the ship exploding out of nowhere you know."
<Military> Gabrieli has disconnected.
Yoink! The pie is stolen from her by the LSO and she scrunches her nose up a bit at that. "Well, I need to keep my girlish figure afterall." Maia says with a wry grin, patting Hellicon on the shoulder before easing on up. "I think I'm going to channel my inner child, Kellan. So you can… wait yours is already out." she teases as she starts grabbing some paint and starts fingerpainting on the walls. It's an odd design at first, but soon, she lets her fingers start to curve and whatnot as she hrmms and does calculations in her head. "It should turn around fourty degrees or so here, wah.. trying to show the golden ratio via art is hard." No wonder she's called Gadget.
Karthasi's smile doesn't go much beyond its usual meek status, but it touches her eyes to a greater degree as Cidra seems on board with the spirit of the project. "I think we're going to keep the painting to the vestibule walls," she gestures to the two she means, the two great triangular walls separating out the two segments of seating. "It can get distracting if it's all around the altar," she says, as though she knows this from experience. "But there's plenty of room, so… please, help yourself. There are sponges and brushes…" she looks around for that bin she got together. "Oh, there they are," and she goes to bring them over.
Hellicon chuckles a bit as he gets up and finds a can of paint. Opening it, he immediately finds a brush and begins to work. "Flying is fun, the exploding isn't. Neither is crashing, but if you're lucky, you can walk away from it… I was, after all," he says as he begins to work the design from inside his head.
Cidra bends down to get a sponge. She's not going in for the finger-painting, it would appear. She chuckles softly to Alessandra. "Playing at paint is the order of the evening, It thought. It is why I'm here, certainly." She considers the available colors, seeking out a can of blue. And a can of red. A pan to blend them in, and she gets to creating purple.
Archer is not much of a painter. He is sticking with blue. Just, blue. No real design as of yet, or shapes. Just. Blue. He shrugs a bit, "Well, it is what it is. And it aint for me. I let my better half do all the flying stuff."
Each finger is dipped into a different color as she gives up on trying to maintain the golden ratio. Still, being an electrical engineer, Maia starts doing fractal patterns instead on the wall, giving each a little curve before switching to another finger to have another curve grow out from that one. Maia's cheeks flush a bright tinge of red as she peers at Archer. "Mmm, that's true. And I let you do all the blowing up stuff. We have more fun that way." she says as she looks back towards the LSO before starting to peer at other people's designs.
Alessandra makes sure she's not going to drip a blue trail between the can and the bulkhead before she gets up, holding up her hand, looking rather like a surgeon who has scrubbed in for a procedure. "I will keep that in mind, sir. I mean, far be it for me to disobey orders." Winking, she goes about doing what she had planned, that being leaving behind a handprint on one of the metal bulkheads; it's not perfect as some of the paint has grown a bit dry, leaving a few 'holes' where the middle of her palm is, but the result is satisfactory regardless.
Hellicon chuckles and nods. "I bet you could con Maia into getting you into a simulator," he says with a chuckle. "It's not all that bad, really," he says as the design comes into form… Grabbing the silver paint, he begins to add it into the work. "if you like shooting, I bet we could load up one of the tactical training programs and let you go against an old Cylon raider or two…"
Lasher drains the last of his fortified tea before wandering over to where the paints are laid out. Seeing Greje walking over with brushes, he approaches the chaplain, offering a twitch of the lips before his hand snakes out to grab a couple brushes. His blues jacket is removed and discarded onto a nearby seat. Stepping over to an empty section of wall, he dips the wider of the two brushes in a can of black paint, quickly slathering an inky layer onto the metal. Then, a can of white is brought over, and he dips the smaller of the two brushes into the white paint. Time for some detail work.
Cidra offers another slight smile to Alessandra before properly absorbing herself in the painting. She hums softly to herself, some little song with a wandering melody, and takes her sponge to the wall. She doesn't so much paint a picture, her strokes creating symbols and sinuous designs.
Archer reaches out with his foot and lightly pushes Maia's flank with it, as he continues his straight blue painting. He then goes for red. Red red red. In a big box next to blue. Maybe he's making a checker board.
There's a slight flailing of her arms as she messes up the fractal she's making. Maia raises her brows as she sticks her tongue out towards the marine before she starts to let her own design merge with his. "Mmmm, I like it. The simple and the complex in juxtaposition next to each other. Something about it seems apropos for a chapel." she muses under her breath as she sage nods. Of course that means she starts using the complimentary colors, orange and green. Woo.
The design on the bulkhead in front of Chris begins to take shape… It's the personalized seal of the Cerberus Deck crew, the one he designed when he was doodling in his workspace. "Hmmmmm… Do we have any bright orange paint," he asks, apparently to anyone who might know.
Alessandra tilts her head and then does the one thing she has always thought of as outrageous when seeing other people do it, that being raising her closed fist up to eye-level, thumb jutted upward as she angles her head in the other direction. "I think that's a masterpiece." Sniffing, she steps away, seemingly done with her contribution to the mural. Now to wash off the paint before she winds up having to scrub it off. "What kind of paint is this?"
Laskaris' image begins to take form. White paint swirls in with the black to create the image of gunmetal grey-colored clouds at the top of his picture; a trio of shadowy figures take shape above the clouds, looking down on the as-yet unpainted scene below. He frowns in concentration, tuning out the chatter around him as he thinks. Several streaks of white mar the surface right under the clouds; a few drops of mixed white and black paint trickle onto Lasher's tank tops as his brush swipes across the impromptu canvas.
Cidra finishes off her purple symbols in an exuberant 'Swoosh!' motion of her arm, then goes back to the cans to procure a brush and add some twisting, looping lines of red to run around and through it. She paints with a certain sense of abandon, bare arms and off-duty fatigues now quite splotched, but she doesn't seem to notice or particularly care. She's back to humming, the tempo of the tune picking up speed as she paints.
Karthasi offers out the bin gladly enough to Lasher while he makes his selections, and, after setting the bin full of supplies right by the chapel-end of the vestibule for people to fetch supplies as desired. She then betakes herself to the beverage station, where she pours herself a cup of wine and looks on in modest approbation of the activity, sipping now and again. "Oh— don't worry, it's completely non-toxic," she remarks. "I'm… not sure what exactly is in it, I'm sorry to say, but— I've used this brand for a while, it's quite safe. And it'll wash off with some soap. There'll be a little staining, but nothing a few more handwashings won't take out. Here," she adds, going to crouch by the bin of toys and pull out a sponge, heaving it once, twice, then tossing it to Alessandra. "You can wipe off the extra on that, for now. Or, the head's just down the corridor, if you'd like to wash now."
And, onwards and upwards goes Archer. He switches to yellow this time, and, starts to paint between red and blue. Its a nice mixture, and, here he's not so precise around the edges. He looks over at Maia and her fractal design, and then goes back to slowly brushing as he goes.
"Chris!" Maia calls out, snapping out of her little daze as she makes another careful curl of the paint with her fingers. "I have some orange here." offering up the bucket before she continues working on her design. It's a work in progress and soon, the pattern is apparent how it swirls together. She looks back towards her beau and smiles brightly. "It's fitting, don't you think so?"
Ahh, Maia comes through! "Why thank you, Lieutenant Westfield, the Cerberus Greasemonkeys thank you," he says with a smile and a wink to her as he walks over to her and gets a bif of the orange from the can. Chris then walks back to his spot and begins to add the color in.
Cidra gets in a few more swooshes before stepping back to take a look at the symbols she's grand-scale doodled. Her head tilts and she squints. Almost as if trying to figure out precisely what it is. It's unclear if she comes to any proper conclusion about it, but a faint smile comes to her lips.
The sponge is caught with some measure of skill, Allie having no real difficulty in snatching it out of the air. "Thanks." And it's now that the wiping of her hand begins, the flesh of her fingers and palm growing less and less blue while the item she uses to scrub the pigment off becomes more so. "I can see the appeal in this. It is very calming. I'll have to try my hand in it again sometime later…no pun intended." Now mostly cleaned up, the messy sponge's set aside and her plate's grabbed, the need for sugar over-riding the urge to be artistic.
Hellicon looks to his design approvingly and nods. "I think this is coming along quite nicely," he says to himself as he fills in the small areas with the orange. he then looks over to Maia and draw up a mischievious grin on his face as he dips his finger into the silver paint and flicks it at her…
Laskaris retrieves a can of light blue; his brush paints a river winding off towards a 'horizon', and he fills in a craggy landscape around the river. More white streaks, looking vaguely like shooting stars, are added; all of them arcing in the same direction, from one side of the river to another. As they cross the water, however, they begin to disperse, as if each going to find its own way. After a few last feverish brush strokes, he steps back to review his work; it might not be a masterpiece, but Lasher nods with silent satisfaction nonetheless.
"Quite welcome, Captain." Maia chirps back as she looks at the straight lines versus the curves she painted. She's brought out of her thoughtful moment by the flicker of the paint onto her sweats as she lets out a meep. "Hey!" she says with a little grump before sticking her tongue out towards him. "Fortunately my sweats are grey, so nyeh."
The Marine Captain seems to be losing steam for this project, partly as he leans forward and plants his forhead right in the middle of what he's painting in, what must be him taking a catnap while he stands. He starts wide awake, and pulls away, a big green splotch across his forhead where he rested against the wet paint. "Ehrr…uh..I think..its time to go back to bed."
Hellicon chuckles and nods. "Oh, that's right…" He then reaches for the bright green paint sitting nearby and does the same flick towards Maia. "There you go," he says, grinning as he flicks the bright green on.
Alessandra slips beside Laskaris as he appraises his own art, her eyes squinting as she does the same. "That's nice," she eventually intones in an awed voice, "Have you taken art classes?" The questions and praise are then halted as she takes a bit of a cookie, Allie in possession of enough decorum to know better than to try and talk while shovling food in.
Karthasi smiles at the pun in any case, whether Alessandra intended it or not. She finishes up her first cup of wine and pours a half of another, switching places with Allie as she goes to walk the vestibule with both hands wrapped around her cup, holding it and her elbows close to her body as she saunters through, looking from side to side at the developing artwork. She lifts one hand to her mouth as she sees the green patch on Archer's forehead. "You must be Captain Archer," she tells him mildly from behind her hand, hiding a smile, then she lowers her hand to offer it to him to shake. "I've heard nothing but good things."
Cidra seems to consider her task completed, whatever nonsense she ended up slinging up on the wall. If nothing else, the patterns are interesting to try and follow with the eye. She steps back, approaching Karthasi again. "I thank you for inviting us to decorate our chapel, Sister. It gives one a feeling of connection to the place they worship if they have a hand in it." She idly brushes some hair back from her face. Some of her brown tresses are streaked purple now.
Archer looks at Karthasi as she speaks to him, and then, takes her hand to shake it wearily, "That I am, and you've heard nothing but propaganda. I'm an awful person. I'll prove it, watch." He gives the Chaplain's hand a shake, before saying to Maia, "I am going to go to bed, you are going to come with me, because I cannot bear the thought of leaving you here with more attractive people than I. Temptation and all that." He smiles just a little, and then adds to Karthasi, "Pleasure to meet you, Sister."
"Kellan, hun, are you all right?" she asks curiously, her brows furrowed as she chews on her bottom lip, resisting the urge to laugh at the big green splitch on his forehead. "Yeah, maybe it is." Maia says with a sage nod before she looks back towards Hellicon as she's flicked with the same green. She's about to do something back when she peers towards the marine with a coy grin. "You got lucky, Captain!" she says with a wry grin towards Hellicon. "I'll get you later." She nods as she peers back towards Archer with a soft snicker before giving a friendly salute to those remaining. "I'm sure I'll see you all around, but it seems this big lug is cranky and needs sleep. Gotta tuck him in." she says with a hearty laugh. "thank you once again, Sister. It was fun!" she says with a bright smile at Karthasi.
Laskaris' paint-flecked hand pulls a cigarette from his pocket, which he lights with aplomb. His head jerks to the side, startled as he's suddenly addressed. "Good gods, no," he replies mildly to the woman's question, smoke trailing from his lips. "It's not that good, anyway," he says, his voice muffled as his lips hold the cigarette. It bobs in his mouth as he speaks, tracing a zig-zag of smoke in the air in front of him. "Had a lot of practice doodling in my notebook back in school, is all."
Hellicon chuckles and nods. "Fair enough, Maia. Go take care of Archer, I'm sure we'll still be painting the bulkheads," he says as he keeps working on the insignia he's painting.
"And you, Captain," Greje replies, smiling at the pair of them, "Good-night, both." She takes a step backward, giving Maia a nod and then turning toward Cidra, "Of course, Cidra. We should all feel at home here," she tells her. "Oh. By the by, for anyone interested," she lifts her voice just a little bit, "We have daily Theoxeny," a sort of ritual meal/general religious service, "Here at two hours into each shift cycle. So today it was two hours into second shift, tomorrow it'll be two hours into third shift, and so on and so forth. If there are other services you're interested in seeing run, feel free to drop by the Ecclesiastical offices upstairs, or just come find me. We'll be posting a more full schedule once we figure out what people are most interested in seeing done here."
Looking left and then right, Allie eventually gestures to the sole handprint she left behind, Alessandra acting as if she is trying to be sneaky about doing so. "Your panting trumps mine by miles." Clearing her throat, her free hand comes up to scratch at the back of her head, leaving a bit of paint in her hair when a wet spot is worked over a lock which worked its way free from her braid. "I think someone would pay you some good money if that was on canvas."
"Yup…cranky, that's it." Kellan says to Maia, before he waves to the folk nearby, "Enjoy the rest of painting." He then starts to lead the pair out, one arm reaching down to catch the pilot's hand as he goes.
"I shall do so, Sister," Cidra says with another deep inclination of her head to Karthasi. With that, she takes her leave of the chapel.
Hellicon watches everyone leaving and sighs… "More cake for me, then" he says with a chuckle as he puts the finishing touch on the logo. He smiles and takes a step back to admire his handywork. "Ahh, there we go… Looks like I left a mark after all," he says with a chuckle.
Laskaris snorts. "If you say so. Well, if you ever happen to find someone with cheap taste, let me know. I certainly wouldn't say no to the cubits." He shrugs, barking out a terse, self-effacing laugh. "Buy one, get one half off." The tip of his cigarette glows angrily as he takes a deep drag.
One wave of people having made an exit, Greje sips at her wine and then goes to peek over by the folk still here. "Oh. That's quite nice," she comments, looking at the landscape. She can't quite hide the surprise in her voice. Social skills? Not many.
Alessandra laughs. "Well, maybe I'll take you up on that myself. Deals like that do not come often." Plate mostly empty, Alessandra puts it back on the table once she gathers the last few cookies it held, those about to be taken with her on her way back to the berthings. "I should retire myself, I reckon. It was nice meeting you both. I shall see you both again soon."
Hellicon nods a bit and smiles. "I should probably head off myself and get a shower. I'm taking a bit of a break tonight and going to see some friends planetside." He then smiles and thanks the Chaplain for the gathering. "Chaplain, feel free to call me for more painting anytime," He says with a chuckle.
Laskaris gives a tiny wave with his cigarette holding hand as Alessandra moves to leave. Nothing is spoken in return; he, like Karthasi it seems, is noticably bereft of good social skills. Speaking of whom, he turns at the sound of the chaplain's voice over his shoulder. He flushes slightly as he watches her review it.
"Of course, I will," Greje assures Hellicon, "And it was nice to meet both of you," she nods to Alessandra and Hellicon, both, bowing with a slight forward motion of her shoulders, a momentary closing of her eyes. When she opens them again, she sets them on the landscape once more, tilting her head just a degree or two to one side. "You have a real talent," she goes on. "Have you been painting long?" she wonders. "I'm Greje, by the way… Greje Karthasi," she gets around to introducing herself. After most everyone's gone, of course. It's the little things you forget.
"Um. Gifted amateur, at best, Sister," Lasher mumbles reservedly, puffing up a storm. "Like I was telling that other girl… I did a fair bit of doodling in the margins on my notebooks in school." There's a brief pause, but then he hastily extends a hand as her introduction registers. "Anton Laskaris. Viper pilot and evidently, budding painter." His voice bears a noticably heavy Aerilon accent, but his (mostly) clear enunciation of words suggests an education.
Karthasi's eyes flicker downward to the hand twice before she reaches out to take it, giving it a firmer shake than one might expect from a woman of quite so frail a frame. "Good to meet you, Mr. Laskaris," she tells him, and, once she retrieves her hand, she folds her arm in its accustomed place over that middling range between chest and stomach. "Pythagorean?" she finally asks, as for the philosophical foundations of his painting's significance. "Or were you inspired by our ship's namesake?" she goes on to wonder.
"Um." Lasher repeats himself, scratching the side of his head with his non smoking hand. Neither theology or philosophy are his strong suits. "The latter, I suppose," he begins after a brief pause. "Some think it fatalistic, but I've always been fascinated by the thought of death and rebirth. Sort of like being given the ultimate blank slate." He smiles crookedly. "I suppose it could be a euphemism for my own state as well. Being transferred here, it gives me something of a second chance, y' know? New ship, new commanders I haven't managed t' piss off yet. Just like those souls crossing the river, I have a chance to improve my lot this time around… provided I haven't forgotten too much." His head dips toward the river of paint with a wry chuckle. "Lords know I've not exactly lived up to what I could be." His voice is calm and dry, though a practiced ear might sense a hint of underlying bitterness there.
"Death is at the heart of nearly all religious service and rite," Greje points out, putting on her Professor voice. "It's the great unknown, that which we strive to figure out above all else." When he points to the river, the corner of her mouth tics upward in a ghost of a smile. "Why, how many cults are based around the question of how to determine the River of Forgetfulness from the River of Memory when in the next life… but is it in order not to forget, or… not to be forgotten? Objective or subjective genitives?" she shakes her head, but seems delighted with the irection of the discourse, letting her inner theology geek hang all sorts of out. "Pythagorean doctrine is heavily geared toward the question of reincarnation. It's not just for triangles anymore," she jokes a little bit. "You might be interested to read some of it. You're not alone, Mr. Laskaris. People have been fascinated by these questions for thousands of years. And won't stop being so anytime soon, I don't think," another light tone as if that in itself were another attempt at a joke. "Hm, you have those troubles, too? On my first posting I managed to step right into it with most of command. But, it being a four year post, I managed to turn myself around. You don't have to be on a new ship to make a new start— though it can certainly help. Every day is a new opportunity to take life in a new direction. As trite as it sounds— it's true. Nothing is done which, with time, cannot be undone."
"You're right. It does sound bloody trite." Laskaris gives a harsh little laugh. "Doesn't make it any less right, though." He rubs his hands together, trying to scrub off some of those annoying flecks of drying paint. "Same story, for the most part. Most of my time on Valkyrie, I did all right. Adama wasn't the type to quibble overmuch about attitude in his fighter jocks, and the CAG stayed off my arse as long as he was still in command. But then he got transferred…" Laskaris shakes his head. "I've been a journeyman ever since. Even got stuck with a rotation on a bleedin' Tauron garrison for my troubles." Or, in other words, where pilots' careers are sent to die. "This'll be my third new assignment in as many years." A look of genuine mirth passes over his features at the triangle joke. That much, at least, he comprehends. "Cults are your specialty, Sister, not mine… but I'd say at least a few." Wry smile. "I can tell you for my part, at least, the unknown is a fascination. That's… well, part of the reason I signed up to fly Vipers. Shoot things, and see the wonders of the universe while doing it."
Karthasi doesn't know much of the ins and outs of piloting careers, yet, so the comment on Tauron garrison draws a blank look from the Priestling, one only tainted with sympathy inasmuch as she can only assume it's a bad thing, from context. "Quite a few," she does agree with his assessment, though. "And if you're looking for the unknown, you seem to have hit a good post for it, at the very least. At the very least, -I've- never been to the Uram sector," she shrugs. "And who knows where we'll be off to after that? We're taking on enough provisions we might not see another colony for years," she points out.
Laskaris nods in agreement. "So I've noticed," he replies around a lungful of cigarette smoke. "So either way, it looks like I'm stuck here and everyone is stuck with me." He cackles wickedly, not intending the statement to be completely serious, anyway. A yawn is stifled by the back of his hand, followed by an apologetic look at Karthasi. "Apologies, Sister, I've taken a great deal of your time," he continues a moment later, his fingertips rubbing against his temples. "I'd be interested if you might recommend some Pythagorean texts for me, however. I'm sure I'll return… if for no other reason than to share in your tea." He looks back over to the carafe, offering the chaplain one of his rare warm smiles.
"Of course, Mr. Laskaris. Come by the ecclesiastical offices anytime, my door's always open. And there is -always- tea," Greje adds, almost conspiritorially. "Good night."