| Lay Down Your Weight. |
| Summary: | Fiver and Kai meet to discuss details for the memorial. However the Priest seems to take a more personal tone with the ExCAG |
| Date: | PH 248 (12/22/2009) |
| Related Logs: | Come Together. |
| Players: |
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A lull has hit the chapel. Though the morning was packed. perhaps religion coming into the survivors on a day that everyone will be reminded about death. As such bits of food, and trinkets had been laid out along the altar. Paper mementos, and notes placed with care. Old photographs and a flag of the colonies draped, or folded reverently here and there. As if the world was dropping their baggage off to make sure the boatman left not a single thing. Currently on a smaller bier, before the altar lies in it's entirety the full dress uniform of the chaplain, extended out as if a body was laying there. Draped above it would be a long, and rather rustic looking cloth. A Gemenese prayer shaw-something that is more seen with the poorer of the rather religious caste colony.
And in the front pew, with a small pad of paper, and the scrolls open at his feet, sits the Chaplain on duty, one Ensign Fulk. A cigarette of sweetly smelling herb smolders quietly, though, every once in a while Fiver does stand to go and blow smoke over the bier and waft it to the altar, before numbly moving back to his work. This, is what someone might find now, if they were to come, and look.
The hatch opens with a soft thump, and the quiet of the chapel is breached by a set of crisp bootfalls followed by a creak and a second thump as the door swings shut. The officer that enters is dressed in his blue duty uniform, and carries with him no obvious devotions for the altar. Perhaps those will be brought later, during the memorial service. Hands in the pockets of his trousers, he pauses for a while to study the shawl draped before the altar, before stepping further inside. He's headed directly toward the chaplain.
Fiver is still silent in his work, and his smoking. Eyes, half lidded stirring for a moment, before he turns to look to where the bootfalls herald. Perhaps unconcerned about someone catching him like this, or perhaps he was expecting his boss. Still, grey eyes find their way to the approaching pilot, which causes pencil to cease it's scratching. Paper set down, before the Chaplain comes to stand, all while removing his 'cigarette' from his mouth. "Sir." said softly, as Fulk straightens. "How, may I help you?" his accent, still as muddy as ever.
Kai's eyes skim over the chaplain as he ceases his writing and moves to his feet, hands leaving the pockets of his trousers and clasping at his back. Being in the chapel, in the presence of one of the gods' annointed, perhaps instills in him a measure more propriety than usual. "Brother," he offers in return, his voice gruff and his accent coarse where Fiver's is muted. "Promised I'd drop by to offer any insight I could about the dead." His blue eyes flick away, taking note of the altar again and the bits of food and trinketry that others have left behind, before returning to Fiver once more. "I'd meant to come by sooner. Hope this isn't a bad time."
The Chaplain smiles back, for a moment before he's nodding to the other. A step closer as the bit of rolled paper and smoldering herb is offered to the Captain. "For your grief.." he explains, before eyes are looking back to the hatch. "Ja, I remember. An do not worry, we all get busy. I had rounds in Sickbay anyway." With that Fiver, is looking right back to Marek. "No, his is a just fine time. Perfect as it will give me something to add to the service." which could be what he was scribbling about- a message most likely.
Kai hesitates a moment, then accepts the 'cigarette' between his thumb and forefinger. His lips make a little upward twitch that could become a smile, if he committed himself to it, which he doesn't. A hit is taken from the herb, and then he leans against the back of one of the benches, and passes it back. "I can't say I knew either Helios or Batista as well as I'd have liked. They'd only recently joined the wing, as nuggets. Helios.." He holds out his hands. They're perfectly still, not exhibiting so much as a hint of shaking. Not yet, anyway. Give him a few more years, perhaps. "Had some pretty fine stickwork, considering he couldn't get out of bed in the morning without giving himself a few bruises. Nevice-" A raptor Ensign that went MIA. "-liked murder mystery novels and fingerpainting." He slides his hands back into his trouser pockets. "Werewolf used to sing in the shower. Not too damned badly, at that. And Rainbow walked around with a thundercloud over her head, but damn if I don't miss having her skill around here." He's quiet after all that, eyes focused on the deck at his feet.
"We lost a nugget as well." Fiver admits, as a hand reaches out to take the joint back, and yes there's a good hit there. A look over at the CAG's hand for a second, as if to follow the meaning. But then he's seen other officers with the tremors-and knows it'll be only a matter of time for it comes for them all. Perhaps that is why he smokes, beyond religious occasions. "His name was Gravy- I think it was because he was named Grady- but I can't remember..I do remember his face. Fresh, young. Freckles.." a sniff there, before his hand runs up under his nose. "very cheerful. Could fly like icarus before his wings melted..We had a bad mission. He trailed behind a few of the escaping Bronze members to ensure they wouldn't get picked off. His last transmission read: It's all cool here..though we could clearly hear the gun fire.. I'll see you home once everything is Gravy? Get it. His laugh was broken by static, later we got the KIA report.." and with that he offers the joint back Eyes now trained on the other man. "Those are a lot of names, to keep on one's shoulders." a pause "Do you ever feel, as if you let them down?" Not that he is saying that Kai did such a thing. Perhaps he is trying to get a feel for the CAG.
The pilot doesn't quite make eye contact with Fiver, but rather watches a spot on the man's cheek. Saggie custom, perhaps. He's silent while the chaplain gives his own account of men and women they've lost in the line of battle, lashes lowering for a moment when the question's asked. His posture doesn't shift; his shoulders remain slouched, his expression remains unreadable, hands still tucked into the pockets of his trousers as he regards the other man. "Yes," he answers, low-voiced. "I do." A pause. "I don't regret anything I did. But I do feel responsible. They were my pilots." His words lack much inflection; it's difficult to get read on what might be going on in his head.
The Priest remains silent for a moment, as he takes a nod. "Take it." said softly back, as the joint is still held over for the Captain. "Well. My first bit of advice would be to tell you. They died doing their jobs. Died with their purpose. My second bit would be to lather on how we have no say, nor can we see our death coming. It is fate's call all on it's own." And with that the Ensign lets a chuckle slide our and dry. "Still, that'll never shake the weight." Fiver sighs for a moment, as he shifts in his place on the bench. "Karim," At least he is used to the name-perhaps Kashmiri and Kalimnos share similar roots, or maybe the chaplain is just mindful. "You did not kill them. However, if you hold them on you. Like blocks to your bird. Their souls- your own won't fly as well." a beat there. "You follow?"
Kai reaches for the joint, after a brief delay that could be indecision, or could simply be contemplation of the priest himself. It's turned between his fingers, and brought to his lips for a long pull. Smoke pours from his nose on the exhale, and a smaller quantity from his mouth as he speaks, "With due respect, Brother, you haven't been in my position. It's one thing to know that men die in the line of duty, and there isn't a damned thing I can do about it." His tongue swipes his lower lip, and he flicks some ash from the cigarette with his thumb. "It's another entirely, to want to protect those people, and to be powerless to do so as their CAG." He drags again, deeply, and lowers his eyes. "But I do follow. Sure."
A faint sting there, that can be seen, for sure. "With due respect, Captain." the Priest says after a moment. "I sit in a Chapel or sometimes in the CIC, and now matter how much I might want to be on the line, I cannot. All I can do is sit on my hands, and pray, hoping that the lords hear me. I do know how it feels to not be able to do anything about it. I know all to well." His own hands moving up to ru back through his hair. "Same could be said of a Chaplain. Prayers and words of th' gods canot stop bullets-I cannot create miracles. But, I try as I know you have tried. Whether being on the line with them yourself or on the wireless." And with that he draws quiet for a moment. " You know, I was a pilot, before I was a priest?"
Again, there's a little facial twitch that couldn't adequately be described as a smile. The fragrant herb is imbibed slowly, and exhaled just as slowly. Might be that it helps to calm his nerves a tetch, or at least takes the edge off his oft-surly mood. He glances back to Fiver, finally. "Lieutenant Roubani mentioned it to me. I knew. I also know it isn't easy, to do what you do. I respect your work, Brother, don't think it's anything less. But you asked me if it was a lot to keep on my shoulders. You asked me if I felt I'd let them down." He pushes off the bench finally, with a brief glance at his watch. "Make sure you don't ask questions you can't accept the answers to." There's a nod toward the hatch. "I'm sure you've got a service to finish writing, so I'll get out of your hair. Thanks for the talk."
"It is not about me accepting the answers, Captain." Fivers says before he's moving tot take the cigarette from the man, as he shifts his weight,moving to stand along with him. "It is about you getting that weight of your soul." A slight smile there back to the man. "As it is, sir. I would like to be able to ask you to say a few words." Wait, what trickery is this? "I want you, to speak.." and he moves ever so slightly to tap the Captain in the center of the chest, gently. "From here about all of those you have lost. I want you to try and offer up those chains with their dogtags, from around your neck, to the gods. Let them carry them for a while." A pause "I want you to be able to speak on their lives, not just as a sailor, or an officer. But as you. Karim Marek." whether it will help or not will have to be seen. "I will ask for words, so you can have time to mull it over, if you don't want to speak. I won't make you." the Chaplain says before taking a toke on his smoke, then eyes and body are turned back to the altar, where it seems what is left is to be laid with the other offerings. "It might not free them from you completely. Or you from them. But hopefully it will help some." A look over his shoulder. "Service is nigh done. Just finishing a prayer.. You never were in my hair, and you're always welcome for the talk. Please come to me any time, you want."
The other officer stiffens slightly when touched, but doesn't otherwise pull away from the contact. His eyes rove from Fiver's cheek, to meet his gaze directly when the request is made. If the chaplain's a perceptive man, he might spot a distinct flicker of panic cross the Captain's otherwise staid expression. "Sure," he offers gruffly, taking a step back. "Sure, I'll see what I can come up with." Fiver gets a curt nod, and after a few seconds' pregnant pause, Marek turns and makes his way back out of the chapel. Due to return shortly, if the time's any indication.
FIN.
