| Pithoigia |
| Summary: | The vat is opened for Anthesteria: Dionysus is let loose into the world. |
| Date: | 2/26/41 |
| Related Logs: | One Cup for Hubris |
| Players: |
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The chapel seems in fine spirits today, as befits the joy of the Pithoigia, the usual clusters of faithful turning up, plus another group less familiar, those sorts who only really bother coming before the altars on the major holidays. The sorts who are only in it for the booze and gifts will no doubt be turning up tomorrow, but for today there's no massive press of folk. In honor of the holiday a great krater has been set out on a tripod a ways in front of the altar, at the center of the room, and it has been capped with a top crowned with an item that looks like a half of a pinecone or an egg with a scaly detailing to it, which those familiar with the scriptures will recognize as an omphalos, a chthonic symbol, the most famous of which resides at Delphi. Greje herself is waiting on the appointed time to begin, grasping the handle of a half-moon shaped tambourine, one of the holy instruments of the Lord, waiting until the proper moment (1730 hours!) before she walks from her spot beside the altar to one beside the Krater, "Euhoe!" she shouts to the crowd by way of greeting, a Dionysiac sort of cheer, then goes about with the usual blessings: "We come to this place with purity of spirit, with integrity of intent and with supreme correctness of right-action in the eyes of the Lords and Ladies of Kobol." A little more intricate than she normally does, a little more spirited, too. The holiday's in her already, even if the wine isn't.
Danny's been here for a little while, having arrived early as is habit for him. Currently standing in a corner, he has watches the others who have been within the Chapel proper, taking in faces and mannerisms, the silent, still observer. It lasts until the Sister speaks, Greje's greeting of the assembled spurring him into sitting down, a back pew chosen and sat upon, the man now occupying space at the end furthest from the center aisle.
Not even the barest pretense of being on-duty tonight, Stavrian's left his heavy camo jacket and brassard behind in berthings. The only thing in his hand is a large rolled-up sheet of paper, tied with an incredibly bright red ribbon with the stenciled outline of several mules on the rough fabric. His wooden prayer beads are wrapped around his right wrist. Not quiet tonight either, his entrance into the chapel announced with a quite uncharacteristic call towards the altar and lift of one hand. "Sister!"
With a muted smile on his face and the uniform jacket around his torso mostly-undone, Oberlin strolls into the chapel leisurely with his hands hanging down at his sides, purposefully making his way towards an empty pew and settles in with one compact motion. He scoots a little to sit up and avoid the appearance of slumping.
"Euhoe!" Karthasi calls again, as more people come on in, nothing at all formal about the proceedings, the priestling all smiles. "
Tisiphone arrived a smidge on the 'unfashionably early' side, slipping in as quietly as booted feet can muster. She carefully picks her way down to a spot one row from the front and settles herself there, cross-legged, hands resting loosely upon ankles. She, too, has prayer beads — dug somewhat unceremoniously out of her pocket and then twisted around her fingers for her to fidget with, occasionally moving one bead from one side of a knuckle to the other. Her expression is light and attentive, almost serene.
And then there are those sorts who remain conspicuously absent from religious observances regardless of the occasion or the quantity of alcohol. An officer dressed, like many, in a blue duty uniform steps in through the hatch quietly, and proceeds to loiter at the very back of the chapel while Greje gets the ceremony going. He does not make his way toward a pew, but rather lurks just on the threshold of the room, eyes on the priestess at the front with her tambourine. His expression is, in a word, skeptical.
A fashionably late entrance could most likely be attributed to getting lost between decks, at least when it's a civilian who's wandering in at the very last moment. Santiago pauses in the back, while the greetings take place, and steps to the side of the hatch to stay out of the way of those stumbling in in her wake. Her hands are clasped behind her back, though her eyes are on the altar, just a small smile playing on her lips.
"Euhoe!" Karthasi calls again, as more people come on in, nothing at all formal about the proceedings, the priestling all smiles. "Today we welcome home Apollo from his long sojourn among the Hyperboreans. And today Hermes comes to lift that stone which is the midpoint of the Lady Ge, the Omphalos that keeps the lower spirits in the lower world, and to lead in triumphant -resurrection—-" "Io Triumphe!" someone in the crowd shouts out, eliciting a similar call from the priest and from several others in the seats, before she begins again, "To lead in -triumph- the dead Lord Dionysus back to the world of the living! Who had been stricken dead by a bolt of lightning and put in the pot to boil, flesh cooked and served as a grisly feast for giants. And whose quintessence was boiled into the broth, that spark of God in his soul, refined and infused into the moisture, left to steep in itself, lightning made liquid! Today we open up the jars, as Hermes opens up the Lady Ge! And together we let the newborn God out into the world to share with us his immortality!" she goes on, "EU HO E!" she calls out, three distinct syllables, "Call forth the God in Triumph! EU HO E!" she goads the crowd, "EU HO E!" beginning to beat the tambourine in time to the shouts.
Sitka seems to tune out of the speech somewhere around 'omphalos'. One hand comes up to scrape through his hair, while his eyes scan the others arranging themselves in the rows of pews marching up to the front of the chapel. He shoves his hands back into the pockets of his trousers, mutters a polite 'excuse me' to someone stepping in, and sidles a little closer to the hatch.
Late. On time. Early. It's all a matter of opinion. Sawyer is one of those three, as she waltzes through the door to participate in one of the more informal celebrations of their religion. There's a string of prayer beads gracing her knuckles, her thumb rubbing it absently as she steps through the hatch. "Euhoe!" She calls with a smile, then murmurs greetings to others as she scoots in and past to claim a seat. Seeing Santiago, she snags the woman's arm and attempts to tug her further into the room. "No sense in hiding. The gods know you're here already." She murmurs to the woman, in full grand spirit. That same smile given to the Captain playing wall flower.
Meanwhile, Oberlin seems to be enjoying the show, at least, although the attention he is paying may be more typical for someone attending a performance than a religious service. He nods, looking faintly, well, for lack of a better word, -impressed-, his jaw set in a slight smile.
Petroski's not the most verbose of those here to celebrate, the man content to listen and worship in his own way while the others shout and go about doing it their way. A casual glance has Petroski noticing Jesse's pressence and, with a grunt, he stands and begins to make his way to where the other man is, seemingly intent on joining the PA if he's able to.
"EU HO E!" Stavrian's hand cups theatrically at the side of his mouth for the shout back. His voice is readily lost in the rest of the crowd, a lone baritone in a thrilling, disorienting cacophany of voices around him. He keeps the rolled paper under his arm, barely noticing the little bit of crinkling it gets from the protective pressure of his elbow. To say he's smiling would be a stretch, but the medic's usual reserve is at least a little loosened, if only from the contagion of the crowd. A pinky sticks into his ear as someone shouts VERY loudly right next to him, a smirked wince curling his lip, and he reaches up again to wave to Petroski.
Reservations bedamned. Tisiphone's voice, challenging and happy through its scratchiness, is raised with the others calling forth. Prayer beads wound in a black-and-white tangle in one hand, she pumps her hands in the air much like a Pyramid fan would cheer their team on…or try to goad someone on the opposite team into a fight. "EU HO E!" C'mon. She double-dog-dares you not to come out.
Santiago glances over and catches sight of both Sitka hugging the hatch, and Sawyer entering through. "No excuse for y" It's the greeting call from Sawyer to the sister up front that cuts off whatever else she was about to say to the Captain, under her breath. She has just enough time to start to wave to the other woman, then the arm is caught and the dragging deeper into the room begins, "But the" She starts to protest, then is dragged along anyway. She shoots a look to Sitka, but lets herself be tugged along into the Chapel. "Ok, I'm coming. Coming."
Once the Padre's got the folk shouting welcome to the Risen Lord come to grant them immortal life, "COME, EVANTHEUS DIONYSUS IAKKHOS! MARCH FROM THE SUNRISE WITH ALL YOUR ARMIES! FREE US WITH YOUR THYRSOS SPEAR!" she shouts out above the uproar, "COMPACT WITH ALL THE LORD ON OUR BEHALF — FREE US ONCE AND EVERMORE FROM DEATH!" she shouts out verses from scripture, and, once two of her chapel attendants have come to take each side of the omphalos cap and draw it off of the great krater of wine, maneuvering the heavy lid onto the lower rungs of the tripod below, she lifts her voice in a shrill ululation the type of which you'd hear coming from the mouths of the maddened Maenads, dropping to her knees in the fullness of the moment of the God's emergence from the underworld.
"Some party, huh," Danny says to Jesse once close enough to do so, his voice raised so that he can be heard over the shouting and other sounds that fill the room. "I 'aven't been to a service like 'is one since I was a wee lad." His arms lift and for a minute he claps in time with the rhythm that moves throughout the people, swaying in a manner that would look almost like dancing if it wasn't for the jerky, near-spastic way his legs and arms move. Dancing is not the man's forte. At. All.
The other one of the ship's clergy seems to be missing for a while, but eventually she shows up, calling "Euhoe!" through the hatch as she enters. Noelani makes her way through those gathered and toward Karthasi - while she's going to let the senior sister handle the ceremony, she wants to be on hand if and when she's needed.
There's a soft snort from one of the people in the back, almost certainly missed while people are shouting and merrymaking as the ceremony begins to ramp up. Then, after shouldering his way through the throng of crew, Sitka finally makes his way out.
Sawyer leads Santiago ot a bench and then plops down to watch Greje. Sawyer has the beads, was happy to chant, and seems genuinely interested in the priestess' invocation. Of course, it'd be hard pressed to know on sight whether the Reporter is deeply religious, or just here because it's a spectator sport. "So what I haven't been able to figure out…" Sawyer mutters to Blue. "Is if they were allowed to use wine, or if that's just grape juice."
"'When the World lies open'," Stavrian calls back to Petroski. He has to shout even with the small distance between them. "The Thirsty Ones are coming, Daniel!" The JG laughs at the sight of the poor man's 'dancing', the corners of his eyes crinkling. Whatever contempt from the back of the chapel, he completely misses it, calling out a long trill of noise along with the crowd. Tisiphone in all her fistpumping is spotted, and he lifts his hands to clap in appreciation of the noise.
Finally, Oberlin's silence is broken in this round of call-and-response, shouting "EU HO E!" as the people shuffle in and out. He cranes his head to one side and looks back towards the doorway catching the civilians in the process and then Noelani at the end of his chant. The smirk has not entirely left his face as he turns back towards the altar. "Grape juice." He mutters under his breath, shaking his head. Man doesn't seem to be gripped by any fervor, but this appears ridiculous to him.
The two who'd handled the actual pithoigia (opening of the jar) now take they kylix cups and dip them into the krater, filling both with wine and proceeding to the altar to spill the first droughts there in offering. Then, returning to the krater, two more cups of the wine are drawn, and the two begin to make the rounds to each side of the chapel, giving those who've come a drink of the New Wine, the blood of the God himself, for those who believe. When Greje's got her breath again, she begins a new hymn, striking up a lively version of Bacche, Bene Venies (Bacchus, you are welcome here) to invite people to sing along if they know it while people get thir first sips of the Anthesteria wine. Which is, indeed, real wine, though the Priestling doesn't say so. the heavy drinking will begin tomorrow, of course, but today marks the Lord's arrival.
Goosebumps. They crawl up Tisiphone's bare arms and spider along neck and shorn scalp, standing out profoundly against pale skin, when the Chaplain cries out and drops to her knees. Her own cheer is added — she brings her hands down, touching fingertips to the corners of her mouth, and adds a series of piercing wolf-whistles to the cacophany.
Noelani smirks a little at the accusations as she makes her way through the crowd. Stopping in a group of people commenting about grape juice, she replies, "Why would we water down such a holy ceremony by using grape juice? The wine is real." She then joins in with the singing of the hymn, a good enough singer to not offend any ears… unless they don't like hymns.
Where the politico is religious and religion a subject he had studied during his time at the University, Daniel finds himself a bit lost as to what is happening. Sure, he knows the basics of what's happening but the deeper meaning behind Greje's calls and everything has been forgotten. "Yes, I suppose they are," he shouts while blushing, the embarrassment over how poorly his dancing truly is getting the better of him. Stopping, he looks from side to side before folding his arms about him, they removed only when it's time for him to take a drink of the offered wine once one of the Sister's assistants gets to him.
"It's a religious rite." Blue mutters in return, to Sawyer, barely audible beyond their seating. "But it's probably watered down enough that no one's getting smashed unless they hang out all day sucking it down." The implication being that it's real wine, but that's just her own arrogance talking. It's clear in her tone that she would never expect some Commander's word to overrule the authenticity of a rite. Her eyes remain on the omphalos, for the most part, though her attention does wander with the movements of the attendants. "Have you ever participated in flinging the dregs? It's messy, but often hilarious, particularly if there are wagers involved." She sits pack in the pew, and asides again, softly, to Sawyer.
Sawyer tilts her face up towards Noelani, "Because of the drinking ban on board." Which hasn't been lifted yet, as far as the Reporter has apparently heard. She turns then, to accept a passing cup to lift it to her lips with both hands. As she then passes the vessel along, she picks apart of the song to belt with a belly full of joy, but breaks off before the refrain to speak with Santiago as if that's just part of the flow. "I haven't. It's been a while since I've been in easy access to a chapel that was this devout and a priestess who is so…involved. Usually it's a get in, light a candle, get out sort of affair. Speaking of getting and getting out, this was fun, but I'm going to have to dash. They're letting me sit up in CIC for this last war game. Can you say high security clearance?"
Stavrian hahs and prods Petroski in the back with the rolled-up drawing, goading him on forward towards the jar of liquor. The smell of it would warn even the most oblivious nose that they're about to be diving into the real fermented domain of Dionysus. A good singer he certainly isn't, but when one's voice can barely be heard it's plenty incentive not to care about its quality. He knows the words to this song without thinking about them, singing along (or at least moving his lips, who can tell), and his hands clap along in a syncopated catch to the song's rhythm.
Tisiphone is all smiles and glittery-bright eyes as the Sister's winebearer approaches, breathing slow and deep after all the shouting and whistles. A deep bow of her head to the assistant before she accepts the cup and drinks, returning the cup so it may continue along to the other attendants. Something is murmured to the winebearer once their back is turned, but the waves of conversation around her wash it away.
The eavesdropping Oberlin's head cants a little to one side and he imparts a weary sigh, his eyes rolling in the back of his head as he glances vaguely in Sawyer's direction before shifting in his seat and sitting up straight. He was leaning a little. His attention is visibly focused back on the ritual now.
Petroski, feeling pretty sure that he won't be heard over the noise and voices, leans in closer to Jesse and murmurs just about right into the man's ear. "My Man Friday has sent me several boxes of stuff as a care package, part of which was several bottles of some of the best Ambrosia known to man. If you can keep a secret and would be so inclined, I just might be able to be convinced to pull one of those bottles out of hiding and partake in the green gift of the gods with you." Leave it to Daniel to talk about breaking regs while praising the Lords in a chapel full of other people doing the same. Praising, that is. He's most likely the only corruptive force here as of present.
"The drinking ban doesn't apply for this festival, in this chapel," Noelani replies as the cup approaches. She drinks, then passes the cup along, adding, "The Admiral clearly understands the importance of such rituals."
There's a smile from Santiago at the joyous singing and shouting around her, but she remains fairly quiet, simply soaking up the atmosphere of the event. When the wine makes its way around, Santi passes it on after merely touching the liquid to her lips. "If you're ever on Aquaria, you should come to Tama. I'll replace Ramon's kylix with the sexually explicit red figure I keep, in storage, to play swapsies when he hosts the state dinners. He loves that."
"Let's hope the blessed Dipsioi don't follow us in search of it," Stavrian warns Petroski under his breath, though his expression looks stuck between serious and not. "I'm bad at sharing." His teeth show briefly with the smirk that winds up the right side of his face, and he hushes as a vessel-bearer gets close to him with his first sip of wine for the festival. The ritualistic way he takes and drinks from it is absurdly reverent in the face of all this happy chaos. "A'afiat, Dionysus."
Sawyer gives a full smile to Santiago, that seems genuine down to the reporters core for once. "You're on." She pats her fellow Civilian on the knee before standing to slip out of the aisle. She came, she saw, she drank to Dionysus. Now she's skittering off to the next thing on her daily chaotic schedule.
Tisiphone, one of those to soon be flying for Sawyer's high-security pleasure, starts making her visibly reluctant way toward the door. She tries to catch the Chaplain's gaze on her way past yet, if she does, only holds the look for a second before shyly looking away. Her way out takes her by Stavrian and Petroski, both of whom are blessed with her wide, warm smile. She says nothing to Stavrian, despite seemingly knowing him; just bobs a simple nod and continues past, heading for the door.
At some point, Oberlin goes through the motions and strolls on out with a smirk on his face. Yay.
Having had enough festivities for now, Petroski starts to step away, whispering softly before doing so. "There's a bottle with your name on it, all for yourself if you want it." Grinning, he waggles his brows a bit before heading off. "I'll be watching from the Obs Desk if you'd like to join me, Jesse…"
"Oh, frak. I should be patriotic, shouldn't I." Stavrian reaches over to set the drawing and its bright bow down on the altar an offering left for the twice-born Dionysus with a moment of bowed head. "Yeah, let's go." He tips his head towards the hatch and starts out, tossing a wave towards the familiar Santiago on the way.
Santiago nods to Sawyer, and waits for the other woman to pass before she rises, herself. She waves to Jesse as he goes by, that smile quirking a bit more. She glances briefly to the altar again, murmurs something under her breath, and then turns to go find a place from which to observe the wargame. Preferrably with tea.