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I'm now staying somewhere else. But if necessary, I can still be reached by the communication system. [If Dylan wants to announce where they're living, he can. But Mr. Paranoid Bastard isn't about to publicly give a location.]

As an aside, does anyone here know how to play chess or any other strategy games that might be available? Are there any musicians from the ship?

[He very desperately needs to learn about the local culture. There must be more than "the Authorities are terrible people and want to render us impotent". Survival situations or not, these people have lived here for a very long time and must have something unique and exclusive to them. They're obviously not barbarians or savages.]

Also, do either of the pilots of the ships that have crashed need assistance?

[Nietzschean style proclamation of friendly interest. He wouldn't offer if he didn't like them.]

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[Daniel smiles, and has the good grace not to mention Rhade's reaction. He hands over a few slices of bread - food is inextricably linked to being a good host, for him, and being a good host is vital, all the moreso in difficult circumstances.]

I agree. And they have games, I think, just not...the sort we're used to. Certainly not ones with formal rules that require two and half dozen little pieces.

I haven't seen any of their games yet. Just the ones the children were playing in the south.

[He's pretty well acquainted with sports, he just has a preference for the tactical ones. He pulls up one of the makeshift chairs to have a seat, crossing his legs primly and resting his hands on his knee.]

I'd be happy to learn the local ones if someone would teach me. However- [He holds up a forearm. He wears his differences outwardly. People can tell immediately he's not one of them, and it makes some of them uneasy considering the attack.]

[He nods. He was going to stop and talk, but- well, perhaps talking wasn't of interest at the moment. He gathers himself up and... steals a drink first. Because it's there.]

This way. Have you noticed anything interesting lately?

Some things are universal.

[It's not clear if he means children's games or wary reactions to outsiders; both are true. He sets the knife down beside the dried meat and lifts a hand, careful but not tentative. He's curious but not so graceless or foolish as to touch without permission.]

May I?

Depends on what you call interesting.

[She was off her crutch now, so she followed him easily, keeping pace.]

Seems like nowhere is exactly private anymore.

Go ahead. [He gestures. The pieces themselves are carved out of soft wood. He didn't have lacquer, so they're well sanded. The board out of much harder wood. Some pieces have been stained, and they're markedly darker. The same stain is used to mark the dark patches on the board.

He reaches for a piece of the bread, realizing that he's not really eaten bread since he came- vegetables, meat, but no grains. He tries not to be too eager with it, and instead tears off a little bit at a time, like he's trying to make it last.]

My Captain taught me basketball, which was his favorite game. If I should meet one of them willing I'd be pleased to see what the locals had to offer.

I generally don't expect anywhere to be, but it seems culturally unusual for you.

[And that's his way of sharing concern. She can say something back and explain. Or she can find better ways of distracting herself.]

Your leg is better.

[He laughs a little, soft and self-deprecating.]

I meant your arm, actually.

[He picks up a pawn instead as he admits it, turning it to admire the workmanship.]

Presumptuous, I know, sorry. I haven't met a lot of people from space until now.

Oh. [He lightens a bit. He's actually fond of the boneblades, even if they mark him as different here. He stretches out his arm, and as he does flares the boneblades out a bit.]

They're sharp at the tips. [A caution. He fights with them, more than many later would.]

[He runs light fingertips over the edge of one, following the grain toward the point, but stopping just shy of it as warned.]

They're lovely. Thank you.

[He's sand and scorpions inside; he can't help liking fierce things.]

Black or white for you?

[He smiles faintly at that, going back to picking at his bread. Having them considered like that is novel- he's used to so many other Nietzscheans, that most people know what they are. It's heartening, as it was with the children from the Southern City.

Though he suspects Daniel did not regard them with the same innocence.]

Black. [He's always preferred the darker set- maybe a little stereotypical, but it's always been his favorite.]

[He does and he doesn't; they appeal to the wilds of him, rather than to human attraction. He starts to set up the array of pieces.]

What's it like? Space. We didn't really have a chance to talk about it, before.

It's what I've known for most of my life. But... on a ship with artificial gravity, it's not that different from being planetside. The air is cleaner. You're more boxed in....

Andromeda, she could have told you. The ship's AI knew as much about what was going on around her as within her.

[He misses Rommie a lot now, frequently. She would have been an excellent rallying cry- a warship, through and through. He can't avoid the fondness as he sets up his pawns.]

[He muses, all subtle, secret self-indulgence and a little wistfulness, wishing his own nature didn't have to be quite so confidential, back on earth.]

Must be nice, being able to talk to your home.

Sometimes. [Sometimes it's embarrassing, knowing she's always watching. Or that she might be aware of what he's planning, so he has to take great pains to keep her from discovering.]

The Andromeda is exceptional. She's a Glorious Heritage Class warship and extremely fond of her crew. [A crew that he knows he deprived her of in Dylan's future. He doesn't want to, not really.]

Every last person she gives home to is special to her. She can love and she can anger. She can feel loyalty, and take exception to command if she finds disagreeable.

[He still remembers how he's supposed to sabotage her. He doesn't know if he can.] Though you must find the idea of a ship with a personality ridiculous.

I don't. Not at all.

[It's starkly plain, utterly sincere. It sounds even more familiar than he expected, though he can't share that. And after himself, he thinks suddenly of his own little sailboat, his scrap of salt and freedom, his Liron.]

Men have been acting as though their ships could love them back since somebody first shoved a hollowed-out log into the sea. It doesn't surprise me that someday it might come true.

I imagine if more individuals had to face their possessions or their homes and know that they would be loved or hated for how they treated them, they wouldn't take them for granted.

[His own version of wistful. He did his best to take good care of that ship and make her ready. His very best. No one in retrospect probably even noticed.

He moves a pawn.] Speaking of which, I would like some sealant for these so they could stand up to the elements, but I've not fount anything in the city useful yet.

Most likely, yes.

[His fingers hover for a moment, then choose a knight. His opening is decisive, aggressive without being radically so.]

Most of the carpentry I've seen here is unfinished. Priorities, I suppose. But you could use drying oils fairly easily, if you found enough of the right plant. Someone's got to have a press they'd rent.

[He's curious about that move, but decides to use this as a game of feeling him out. He'll move another pawn for now.

I could ask Edmund. He seems to know everybody with everything. Though most of my tab is going toward carpentry. [He's trying to make the old house he's in livable.]

[She shrugs casually, her gaze constantly shifting around. There'd better not be any animals following her today.]

Back on Galactica there wasn't a lot of it. I was sharing quarters with at least a half dozen other people. You get creative after a while. Learn where the quietest places are on the ship.

[There's a long pause where Kara debates whether to fill him in or not. It's a tough call. She's not big on dealing with the emotional crap. In the end, she just moves on to his observation, flicking him a brief smile.]

Yeah. It's finally coming right. I'm getting back to my morning jog routine. Too much sitting around on my ass.

Edited 2012-04-15 15:10 (UTC)

I would have been insufferable. I hate injuries and my boredom equals me having to look for ways to entertain myself in people. It's fortunate I heal fast or I probably would have had no wives at all after certain Magog attacks.

Oh, believe me, I've been insufferable. Entertain yourself in people? That's an odd way to phrase it. Care to elaborate on that, commander?

[Have an amused glance your way, Rhade.]

I was gonna ask you about that. Three wives, huh? Didn't take you for the settling down type. Guess looks can be deceiving.

Being married to us isn't exactly the contract of ownership that it is in some other cultures. A woman decides she likes a man's genes, proposes that they make a child, and he accepts if he wants to. Then they're dually responsible for raising that child, and him with keeping her pleased so that she doesn't leave him. The union is for benefit of genes rather than property.

[He's a little cynical on other cultural ideals of marriage, but still accepted being the best man at Dylan's wedding. He doubts that agreement counts for much, now. Dylan's fiancee is three hundred years in the past and- well... he knows what Rhade is, too.

He quickly changes his line of thought.] I like to debate. [And he's been told more than once that it's one of his more annoying habits.]

The twelve colonies have differing local customs, but generally marriage is a sacred rite, passed down to us by the gods. A way of honoring our ancestors and our future generations. It's continuing the never-ending cycle of life. Not something to be entered into lightly. I don't think genes or property ownership come into it much. I got engaged once, but--

[Her expression falters and she looks off to the side. Gods, she doesn't want to be thinking about Zak right now. She latches on to his change of subject.]

So, you enjoy debating. I get my kicks out of verbal sparring too sometimes, but I'm a more of skirmisher. I hit hard and fast, aiming for the kill, then I get the hell outta there.

We don't have gods. [But they're frequently named for them.] So our marriages are entirely about the well-being of our offspring. ...Though don't get me wrong, I do love my wives. All in different ways. And I suppose I must have done something right for them to choose me.

[He scruffs a hand over the back of his head.] I do that, too. But if I'm laid up? [Yes, he'd make an absolute pest of himself. He knows he would.]

We've actually been fixing up the inside of the building we moved into, so it's not all that bad.

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