| Flawed |
| Summary: | Fiver and Roubani meet in the Hestia's chapel. |
| Date: | PHD 239 (13 Dec) |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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Hestia - Chapel
The hangar bay's still busy with people doing their meet and greets, or sniffing or whatever it is crew do. But some people have bypassed most of it on their ways elsewhere. Sitting on one of the front-row benches in the Hestia's quiet chapel is Roubani, wearing formal blue with the shoulder patch still reading CEC-46 Kharon in gold. His eyes are up, watching the lit dais.
Oddly enough services were not as full today. Probably due to the general air of mystery and such being about, what with a whole new crew being installed amongst the veterans of the Hestia. All the same, it seems no matter what patch they have on, at least in the Chapel they will find themselves all equal.
From the back scuttling can be heard as someone is entering, though to his credit, the Chaplain does seem to be getting things ready in here for the evening services, as could be evidenced by the box of votive candles brought in. Fiver though does notice the new face as he makes for the altar, a grin passed over no matter how unfamiliar Roubani may be. "Sawubona." a typical Gemenese greeting. Though- it almost seems second language for the young Ensign, the bits of Kalminos he does toss around. "Oh I am sorry-I mean, Hallo." his accent thick, needless to say being in space has not taken that rustic quality from him. "My apologies, I find things rather easier in one word or another. Look at me, prattling on like a rooieneke.." Or red neck, as th' slang would come down. "I'll leave you be."
Roubani starts at the sound of a voice. It's quite subtle, just a slight tensing of shoulders and flicker of his eyes towards the unfamiliar voice. He says nothing while the older man goes on, just watching for a time even after he's gone silent again. "It's alright," he says, finally. "Brother? Or what do they call you, here." He has a very soft-spoken voice by nature. Quiet, but not timid.
Fiver smils back towards the other officer, grey eyes catching the pins with a slight nod. "Hmm?" asked almost over his shoulder, before he is moving to place the candles neatly in little rows along the bottom part of the dais. After all it is the practice in the work, that makes it perfect. "Oh, they call me Brother, sometimes. Mainly, I am known as Fiver." And there's a faint grin back towards Roubani with that. "Call me as you like Lieutenant, I answer to both."
Roubani doesn't smile back. It's not a /frown/, however, and his voice is relatively amiable. "What is a Fiver?" He remains seated as the priest works, legs crossed and hands folded on his knee. Around his fingers is a loop of prayer beads that look quite old, handcarved from wood.
"A Fiver?" a faint smile there, before he's back to counting candles and then adding in the rows as is needed. "That is my callsign." A pause there for a moment, as he rests back in a crouch. "Or was, I was a pilot, before I was a priest." a chuckle and up he goes, with the empty little basket in hand. "I got it for hitting the runway in my raptor five times before actually landing." And now Roubani knows. "It is much easier than my name, I would say."
"Oh." Roubani takes this in after that breath of sound. He doesn't move, just continuing to watch the priest do what he does with the candles. His dark eyes lift as the man stands up again. "You are the second pilot I have known to have gone into the priesthood."
"Ja." Fiver offers with a chuckle. Basket taken to the back of the pews, and stowed probably under one to make it easier once the service is over to collect them. A turn back and he's regarding the younger man for a moment. "Am I?" That seems to strike him as funny-or so the amused look might tell Roubani. "Tell me, why did he go into the Ministry?"
"He was rather vague about it," Roubani replies, quietly. "I didn't pry. I suppose you might ask him yourself should he be sent over with the others. Marius Cygnus is his name…" He pauses, brows drawing as he recalls. "Of Lord Ares' priesthood, I believe."
Fiver quirks that same amused grin. "Odd that a pilot would chose to be ordained by Ares, or feel the Lord of War's call. You would expect something to do with the air, like Apollo, or Hermes." a shake of his head. "I understand. Sometimes one's leaving of one scope is rather personal. Myself." a shrug "I can no longer fly." a dry laugh there. "But it works out, I still work with pilots, so it is as if I never truly left."
"I suppose it depends. We don't fly passenger planes or crop dusters. We fly birds of war," Roubani says, looking back at the flickering candles now. A moment or two to court memory before he quotes, though speaking instead of singing, "Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter cowardice from my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of my soul. Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife." His voice trails off, the rhythm changing back to regular speech. "Do you like what you do?"
"I understand yeah, but I think of the wings." and there's a shake of his hand, as if to brush it all past, semantics apparently is something that Fiver doesn't like to fall into those discussions too, terribly much. "May our souls sour on the fastest feet to thee or Lords, and may the wings of our carrier prove to be swifter than the wind that blows from the jars, and higher than Apollo's golden sun." A grin there still it seems the Chaplain is hard to sway one way or ther other. "I love what I do."
Roubani seems to take that at face value. He nods, rolling a loop of wooden beads over his fingers, and looks up again before he speaks. "Has the Hestia lost many of her crew?"
Fiver is silent for a moment as eyes trail down to look at the prayer beads in the Lieutenant's hand before there's a nod given over. "Ja. We've lost as anyone has in this war. You'll find some of us did not originally start on the Hestia. I myself was attached to Marines on DSS Ori." a beat there. "We're more or less cannibalized from other ships now."
"Consolidating mankind," Roubani says, with a flicker of a smile that's as much saddened by the news as not. "I can see why the gods would have sent a disciple of Hermes to such a mishmash. 'Hermes…prophet of discourse…Of various speech, whose aid in works we find, and in necessities to mortal kind.'"
"Eternal messenger, and trickster. Perhaps a little chicanery, or guile like a fox can help us survive that much longer." A nod given back to Roubani. "May I ask you something now, Lieutenant?" Apparently it is easy to tell that Fiver has done several look overs of the pilot. "What is your name? I like to know all, or try to-who come through here. Specially, my pilots."
"How rude, I apologise." Roubani manages to look slightly embarassed and clears his throat quietly. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Nadiv Roubani, "Poet". CEC-46 Kharon, Formerly Fifty-First Fighter Squadron." F-F-F-phew. "I don't alliterate that much in normal conversation."
"Do not apologize, Lieutenant Roubani." and like that he's slid right into familiarity with the young man, well the best he can. Not one to use first names out of respect. At least till he is allowed. "It just came up to my mind that I would have a face with no name on it." And with that he extends his hand to the other. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance..You'll find out CAG can be strict, but she is good, and she is fair." At least by his estimation. "I have the utmost faith in her."
Roubani's accent is definitely Sagittarian. Some of his words have a more guttural sound than they should in Standard. The hand out causes a lengthy pause where he just sits there looking at it. Only when the pause threatens to get awkward does he meet it, shaking once. His right hand is a mess around the wrist, long lines and pits of surgical scarring. "Nice to meet you, Brother. You know the Captain very well, then?"
Fiver caught that much, it seems in the chapel two of the poorer accents seem to be mingling quite well. Once the shake is complete there's a smile there and a good nod. "Gutt, Ah Good grip. You must be a easy flier." Whether the chaplain noticed the scarring or not, it seems he is tactful not to mention it. "I do, and I don't. I think I know her as well as she allows me to know her. But, I see the admiration her pilots have for her, and the respect they show her." One hand coming up to rub under his left eye. "It says a lot when the crew follows, as they do."
When Roubani withdraws his hand it goes back to his knee, lacing with the other. "Respectfully, Brother, a soldier must follow." Stress on the penultimate. "What he develops isn't obedience, it's trust. Do they trust her?"
"Not all the time, he must not if only under certain circumstances, Soldiers are not blind dogs." The Chaplain applies for a moment. "As for trust-I would say yes. I have not seen any of them show a lack of trust to her." Hands idly wringing in order to pop his knuckles quickly.
"That is an interesting way to put it," Roubani comments on that last, and his lips twitch. "May I ask what your actual name is?"
"It is. Perhaps it is the Gemenese in me. We're a very pigheaded people when we choose to be. And I like to think that if the order that is given is suicide with no gain-then that order should be looked at more carefully. But, this is a more recent development." Fiver admits, before he's nodding. That faint grin given again, just so the whites of his teeth might be glimpsed briefly. "Ja, you may." a cough. "Wolfram Fulk." a chuckle there "Throw in Ensign in front of it, and it is a mouthful, specially with my accent. That is why I believe the pilots call me Fiver..And if it helps them, find th' gods and makes me more approachable, who am I to argue?"
"It is a very nice name," Roubani says, though he respectfully doesn't attempt to repeat it. It might get mangled. And he's still back on something else Fiver just said. "Recent development, Brother?"
"Oh in my head. Not to say there was any recent activity. I was just thinking, as a priest will. Protect his flock, etc. Why risk what is left of humanity for a small piece of rock, unless it insures our survival? Territory disputes..where people are from. Not important, is what I mean." At least Fulk tries to clarify. "More or less, choose your battles, Ja?"
It's hard to tell what opinion, exactly, Roubani has of all that. Fiver could be talking about why the sky is blue. But he's listening, that's apparent in the focus in his eyes. "So you don't think that is our nature. To dispute."
"No, I do not." Fiver says after a moment of long thought. "I would say, that man was made to not quarrel, but our own flaws and selfishness bring us to it. We simply cannot be happy with what we have."
"The gods quarrel," Roubani replies to that, quietly. "How can we say that is not part of our nature too. For all we recognise it may not be beneficial, we still do it. Perhaps we are trying to escape something that can't be escaped."
Fiver grins. "They do, but are we not to be shining examples of our makers and patrons? What does it say if we do not strive to be better than expected." And with that Fulk reaches inside his pocket for a small pouch. "Maybe we are, or maybe we were given a chance to do it better?"
"And some would say that is hubris," Roubani replies, gently shrugging one shoulder. "To think we can or should evolve into something better than the gods would be a form of arrogance. Which would be truly ironic, wouldn't it…if the ate that brought about downfall were the attempt to overcome quarreling."
"How would be better than the gods, by ceasing to quarrel amongst ourselves?" Fiver offers back "By better than expected, Lieutenant. I mean better than man is expected to be. We can never be better than our makers. If anything our downfall should prove that." And with that he is digging some grit from his fingernail, before looking back. " Truly, Ironic though…However we went about it wrong. Man should change his heart, not make technology to make our life easier."
Roubani is silent a while after that. "Do you think that was our 'downfall'? All that happened, I mean."
Fiver smiles slightly and there is a pause before words come a little freer. "I think, a lot of things come to our downfall. However, our own greed, and selfishness..I beieve that was the main crux which lead to everything else."
"I meant," Roubani rephrases his words, one hand moving a little as he does. "Do you think the destruction of the Colonies was our 'downfall'."
"Ah." Silent again, before he's grinning and rising from his position. "Lieutenant. I like your mind.." One finger moving to tap his own temples. "I think, our Fall of mankind as we know it came with the Holocaust, Ja. A change of all we know. That was the moment, but our actual downfall? One could argue that happened way before."
Roubani doesn't return the grin, but his head and eyes move to keep up with Fiver's shifting around. "Way before?" He repeats, if only to focus his next question. "How is that?"
"One could argue Society's dependence on the cylons, before the first war was our downfall. However, that was mainly what the priests in Lyri would say, and a few of my professors in Seminary. Believe me, we spent time talking about what would be considered our downfall in the future way before the Holocaust came upon us like a whirlwind in the thorn trees." A shake of his head. "No..The Holocaust was a horrible act of war..and perhaps some divine punishment to break us of our cycles. We're as much to blame, as they are."
"What cycles have they broken us of?" Roubani asks, about half rhetorically. He makes a vague motion with his hand towards a wall. "We are as reliant on technology as ever. Moreso now, given that without this hull, we are dead."
The priest is quick on this one. "None, yet. But then the end game card has yet to be played, as we are all still standing, and the dust is not settled in this conflict. As for our cycles, I would say war, greed, corruption, perhaps how we use our own fellow colonials and mistreat them based on their colony." A motion made to Roubani, as if to mention the man's colony specifically. "Technology I would say is not the evil, but the intent we put behind it."
Roubani now smiles, a little bit. "You believe there is no more greed? No more corruption, no more using of one another? Brother, these pockets of humans are microcosms, not miracles."
"Do I believe we have broken of them yet? No." And with that, a great big grin shows on Fiver's face. "But, I do believe in miracles, and I do believe one day we will look past ourselves and will look for the betterment of our tribe." meaning humanity as a whole. "But, I am a fatal optimist."
"Yes, you are." Roubani doesn't say that like it's a terrible thing. "But I suppose if we all saw things the same way, we wouldn't be in our messes in the first place."
Fiver nods. "Probably not. But, we will never know until it happens." And there the Chaplain is moving for the door "I need to grab my sermon notes for tonight…but, if there is anything I can pray for you about-or help you with?" He leaves it hanging there, almost as if to wait for the Lieutenant to pipe u a quick request.
"Not just now, thank you." Roubani unwinds the strand of beads from around his fingers, finding the spot he left off at in his ritual. "But it was very nice to meet you, Brother. Gods bless you."
"Gods bless you too Lieutenant." A nod there, as Fiver moves to head out and leave the pilot to his peace.
