| It Went to Eleven. |
| Summary: | Sofia visits the Eleven in the brig and brings her something from Atropos. |
| Date: | 23 Jun 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | Eleven logs, Eleven brig visits, Cylon art stuff. |
| Players: |
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| Officer's Brig |
| These pair of cells are roomier than one might expect. Each one is provided individual access by a door at the front, located on the other side of the room from the hatch. Each one essentially an armored glass cage, this area is walked and guarded by Marines day and night. Privacy not being a huge concern for prisoners, inside the cell is a single bunk and toilet in full view with nothing else. All visitors must sign-in with the Marine at the desk. Cameras are located at the entrance and on the cell itself, everything recorded onto disk in the Security Hub. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #482 |
The Cylon Model Eleven - the creature that calls herself Yazdah - sits alone in her cell. Crosslegged on her bed, a pad of paper in her lap and pen between her fingers. She's sketching intently, brow furrowed at whatever it is that she's creating. Apart from the pair of MPs that guard her cell (and make sure all those entering have been properly searched and behave themselves - within reason), she's alone.
Well. Sofia managed to get herself an appointment (But not without cost perhaps). She's unsure of how to feel, sadness and relief on her face all at once. She has been searched and patted down, but carries with her a sketchbook. Mingled emotions still bubble though. She pauses on entering. "Um. Hi there. I'm not interrupting something important am I?"
The Cylon looks up from her drawing, setting her pad and pen carefully aside, and at Sofia. "Not at all. My brother and I are here to talk, and I have little else to do. I hope it is of some use, for all our sakes."
"Thanks. I hope so too. Um. Your name is Yazdah right? I'm Sofia. Nice to meet you," Nod. She takes a deep breath. "I hope this doesn't come off as weird," Sofia admits, "But … I gave one of your sisters a sketchbook when she was here. I felt you deserved to see it and have it," A nod. "She was really nice. I remember that." Fidget. Sofia seems a bit sad, happy and uncertain. "So. If you'd like them. That seems like a lot for a first visit," She considers. "I mean. I've been worried."
"That is my name now. Yes." She replies to the question with a touch of firmness in her lilting voice. "It is a Saggittarian word. It was a…trick, at first. I will admit that. I thought a familiar thing would gain me the trust of some of your fellow crew I met on Leonis. After that day, after Kythera, it became something…more. I hope I am Yazdah now." A pause, and long look at the snipe. "You are Sofia Wolfe. Crewman. Engineering. From Aquaria. Unmarried." Those facts are recited as if she pulled them easily from memory. "You knew Atropos." There is pride in the way she says that name. "Yes. I would like to see her work. Thank you."
Sofia tilts her head. She nods. "Um. Well, Specialist now. But I forget that too," She admits blushing. "Then you're most definitely Miss Yazdah." Nod. "I did. She is a good person." Or at least, was. Sofia's not sure. "I felt one of her relatives probably should have this now." She will offer the sketchbook up or hold the drawings up if she needs to then. "I don't know why, but I was excited to hear she had sisters and they were doing alright. I'm glad to see you."
The first of the few drawings are several rudimentary portraits of crewmembers she had memorable contact with - Tillman, Cora, and Karthasi. The latter is the most interesting. Sister Karthasi, in this portrait, is displaying a gleaming blank orb where her right eye should be, streaks of light obscuring that part of her features. There is a crow perched upon each shoulder and she cradles in her hands what looks to be a limp, dead owl. She's wearing a diaphonous white gown of what looks to be a fanciful, antiquated style. Very antiquated.
Yazdah edges closer to the glass to get a look at the drawings. The guards will take them to pass along to her later, but she can look now. "Specialist? Oh." She says the word as if not quite realizing its meaning. "I apologize for the error. Some of our information about you and your ship is…out of date at this point. Our peoples' agents within your battlegroup passed on the passenger and crew manifest of all those who left spacedock Leonis. It's just names. Faces. Assignments. For a few, talk of families faraway. I've read all of them. Many times now." She sounds sad as she speaks of it. "My sister. Atropos. It was among your people that she found herself. Found the truth that none of our kind understood when the war began. To our great folly. We have done much evil. I do not claim we can undo it, but I hope we might take a…different path now. It does not need to happen again."
"That's okay, it happens. Even I forget my rank sometimes," Sofia smiles sadly. She nods. "I wish I had more to say about my family but …" Well. Y'know. She just shakes it off. "I remember her being kind. I hope we can take that different path too." She seems in agreement. "It's not an easy healing process, but- I don't know what to say," She admits. "I hope that you'll be safe too." She pauses and turns the page. "Um. About this one - she said something about feeling bad for Thirteen. It was clumsy and ugly."
Various simple mathematical calculations (addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and basic algebra) in a slanted, cursive hand that all have the same result. "12." The very last one, a roundabout equation, has "+1" added to its result equalling "13" and then subtracting 12, equalling "1."
"Thirteen is a dark number." Yet while there is fear in Yazdah's voice as she notes that, there's also still that note of great sadness. "All began with thirteen, but only twelve remain. Twelve worlds. Twelve models. Even in our hatred, we share that much. Yet there is still thirteen. In the darkness. Lost. Hungry." She sighs. "I do not know much of the Thirteenth. It is a shadow. Ugly. A thing our kind would like to forget. Yet I think in part that is what my brothers, the Twos, search for on Gemenon. Clues to the thirteenth. Where it might be. What has become of it. It is not Kobol. Kobol I think is for you, not us." Sadness again. "But perhaps if we know our darkness, we can know how to become something better. To break from the serpent's circle."
"Not for you?" She tilts her head. This worries and saddens Sofia. "But … you guys are helping us a lot," Her eyebrows furrow. It doesn't quite strike her as fair. "And you and your sisters were kind to myself and others," She offers. She bites her lower lip, looking down. She considers Eleven quietly. "I wish I knew more," She admits. "Um, here's one more. This might be important," She holds up the last drawing. "I wish I had better words for you. I only feel intensely, not so much with words," Sofia remarks.
The final piece is is a sketch of a sweeping, classical building that looks familiar, although you cannot remember why at first. In fact, it appears to be a Colonial temple, although it is unclear if it is a specific one. Arranged equally in a circle are twelve statues - apparently displaying the twelve Lords of Kobol. They are all without faces, though. There is a blank oval where each face should be. In the center there is some sort of altar, shaded in such a way that it is stained. At the very top of the page, the words, "A dream" are scribbled neatly in the center of the paper. At the very bottom, more notes are jotted down. "All of this has happened before." Given the scale of the statues, the building is /massive/. We're talking Delphi-style massive. The building is not tremendously detailed, she didn't have the time to probably finish it.
"If all humans were like you, Sofia, perhaps we could live together. Find home together. But they are not. And all Cylons are not like me. Perhaps that is not wrong. We have done great evil on your people. And your people, before your worlds burned, spent decades learning and creating a way to do evil on us, and destroy us. I seek atonement. And my brother Twos seek…understanding. But even if we find a measure of that, it won't erase our sins. In the eyes of God, or your gods. If there is home for your people, and a future for ours, they cannot be together. But perhaps we can *find* them together. I think…we need each other for that much."
Sofia looks touched and smiles sadly. "I suspect you're right. We all are different and heal differently. I was kinda shocked by some of what was being worked on," She admits. She takes a deep breath. "I hope we do each get our homes. I'll miss you and your sisters I think, although some might consider that odd," She shrugs. "Rejn - the One - was a good friend before he revealed himself too. And I cannot throw that away," She furrows her brows. "Um. Those're all the sketches I had. I hope you find what you're seeking. I'm not sure I have much else really, other than that it was nice to meet you." A headshake. "I don't have to worry about where my family went or anything. So um. Good luck and be well, okay?"
"The one who called himself - named himself - Allan Rejn is a hero," Yazdah says. Dark eyes shining. "It is he who gives me hope we may avoid the coming strife of our split. That the Ones may win sway. If the Ones prevail, Sofia, I believe the Cylons shall stop pursuing your people. But…there is division coming. The Threes also hold much sway among the models and the Threes…" She shudders. "…if the Threes win the majority of the models to *their* side, things will become very bad. For my sisters, my brother Twos, and for all of you. If nothing else, I hope we can finish our work on Gemenon before the Threes have time to gather their strength. We have little time left." She looks at the sketches closely. The last of the temple in particular. "I will finish this one." It's said softly. But it has the sound of a promise.
A smile at that. She nods. "I'll root for the Ones too," She seems pleased then. She was fond of Rejn, despite … the nicknames. Sofia tilts her head and frowns. "I'm guessing the Threes and Fives seem to agree a lot huh?" There's a bit of worry at that. She blinks. "Ooh. Maybe I will come see it if that's okay?" She asks quietly, carefully. After all, art is intensely personal. "Um. Did my friend Ciro come by? He told me he meant to. I told him to be polite." A pout at that.
"The Fives play their own games. They dream, too, but their dreams are twisted. They think God speaks to them, but I think they twist His words to justify their own dark actions. They will stand with the Threes because the Threes find their games…beneficial to their own cause. The others are not so hard set yet. Most of them. The Sixes and Twelves…they like to kill. So they will be the tools of the Threes. But the others…there might still be time…" As for Ciro, she nods. That sad look back in her eyes. "I told him something I think he did not wish to hear, and I am sorry for that. He seems…kind."
Sofia nods. She frowns. "Oh. That's - I don't think you can help that, but I will let him know. He's a good buddy of mine. I'm surprised he puts up with me," She admits, hints of a mischevious smile. "That's a good perspective. Thank you. I hope we can pull this off. That's - about all I had really, even with small talk. Mostly, I'm glad you and your sisters are okay." Nod. "I appreciate the visit."
"Thank you for visiting, Sofia Wolfe. And thank you for my sisters art. I shall try and finish her work." The way she says it, one can guess precisely what Yazdah means by that. As Sofia leaves, the Cylon returns to the sketch she was working on before.
A nod and a smile. "You're welcome. Good luck." Sofia will leave and wander along after any departing checks and off to snipely things.