nexus_crossings | Cleaning up after chaos: A post Khan event question

Cleaning up after chaos: A post Khan event question

Not everyone who frequents the Nexus was unfortunate enough to be caught up in Khan's attack. Reynard had ended Winter in his own world and engaged in his usual annual seclusion that, as it always did, ended once he had run out of alcohol. The sight of an obliterated Nexus was not the pub crawling paradise he'd remembered it as. It seems that he's missed the action and stumbled into the aftermath. People are tired, disoriented, upset and in shock, or powering through their emotions by helping organise everyone else. Without much of a thought, Reynard falls into a group that is already working to set everything right again. Or as right as things can be set. As it turns out, an atmosphere of destruction and tragedy does wonders for a Spring-sick Winter spirit.

He looks as awful as he feels, and far more sober than he'd like to be. He's forgone his coat, but kept his gloves on and a makeshift mask for the work at hand. Reynard has volunteered for the grim task of working with the dead. In a shaded area he helps move bodies to rest side by side, covered in shrouds that have started to vary in colour as they run through their supplies. These are the ones who have not, or cannot, be identified.

It's been a long day, and it's been hard graft, and everything feels hotter than it is, especially with the cloth around his face. Reynard takes his gloves off, leans against the edge of a table, and pulls away the mask, revealing an unkempt beard. "What would you like to happen at your funeral?"

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It's as if they traded places, as if as soon as one lost the energy of life it was passed to the other. Seeing Adia so healthy and bright is a relief, especially surrounded by all of this chaos and death. He sighs, audibly and visibly, when he sees her well. Finding people hadn't been as easy as he'd hoped, and he'd hoped that she had run to the safety of her world to hide from all of this, but he couldn't have been sure.

Without hesitation, he steps closer and pulls her into a hug, but he'll keep it brief since he smells about as good as he looks, mostly of stale alcohol. Even when he releases her from his hug, he keeps a hand on her shoulder. "Not a task we have to figure out just yet, thank the Seasons."

He shakes his head at her question. "Sick as a dog, and feeling my age, but life goes on." The fever is hard to forget, but the distractions are a help. "I'm doing better than most of the poor souls here."

She returns the hug warmly, not caring about his smell, although it gives her a clue as to how he coped with the loss of his season. The same thought occurs to her, that their fortunes are reversed. She hopes he can take as much comfort in her presence as she did from him.

"Yeah, not yet," she agrees, although there is something unsettled in her voice. She can't help but be affected by the tragic loss of life in the Nexus, and how some of her friends nearly died. Or could still die, but she refuses to let herself lose hope for Steve.

Placing a hand over his, she stays close and watches him with sympathetic eyes. There is relief, too, but she tries not to show it. Letting Spring come to the Nexus without a fight this year might ease his reputation with others. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

That Adia is looking and sounding as well as she does is a blessing. War and chaos dogs them both, it seems, but her strength is met with a dull pang of pride. Good on her.

"Don't think any less of me?" There's a moment when his eyes and voice are serious, but in a flash they're replaced with gentle humour. "I promise I'm still as charming as I ever was beneath this beard, but my hands haven't been as steady."

He squeezes her shoulder slightly. "Tell me how you are."

"Of course not," Adia says immediately, with such conviction that she becomes a touch embarrassed when Reynard's tone changes into something more light-hearted. More shyly, she gestures at his face with her free hand. "I'd offer you a trim but I wouldn't be much better at it... do you want to sit down somewhere? I could get us some tea."

Her expression brightens considerably with his encouraging touch. "Good," she says, dropping her hands and clasping them in front of her, a smile blossoming on her face. For once she has good news to share, and she wants to relish the moment. "Galactica came back and rescued us. We're back on our ships again, and we're looking for Earth."

Edited 2017-05-01 17:07 (UTC)

Reynard turns, glancing back at the stiff company he'd kept all day. They're not going anywhere. He looks back at Adia and smiles. "A drink would be nice."

Of all the things for Adia to tell him, this was not one of them. No wonder she's so bright, vibrant and hopeful again. Surprise hits him first, and then he feels the happiness and relief of knowing his friend is safe. Safer. "Adia! That's wonderful news!" She's getting another hug, strong musk or no. It's warmer, more heartfelt even than the first. This time he has both hands on her shoulders. "That's fantastic, Adia, brilliant." He takes a deep breath, looks her up and down, and then gives her another hug. When he pulls away this time, he pats her on the back. "This calls for a celebration! Seasons know we all need one. A drink? Or, ah, I know you're not fond. Perhaps cake instead? Or both!"

Good thing those puns are only in the narrative. Adia's gaze lingers on the shrouded bodies, dark and troubled. She's no stranger to death, but the reminder of it aches. "You've done a very kind thing," she says to Reynard softly.

Seeing his surprise and happiness warms her heart as much as his second hug, which she barely has time to return before he has her by the shoulders and is looking her over again. Her smile is so full of life that it's a wonder she isn't literally glowing. When he pulls her in for a third hug, she can't help but laugh, wrapping her arms around his middle and giving him a gentle squeeze for his trouble. "Yes, it is. It's the best thing that's happened in a long time."

She's about to gently protest the drink -- she's done enough drinking recently to last her quite a while, thank you -- but then Reynard suggests cake and she grins. "Sure, cake sounds great. Do you know a good place?" Preferably one that wasn't flattened into rubble.

"You're good to say so." This is a task he's well acquainted with. There's little sense in someone making such a grim memory when he is already able to sleep after it without trouble. After all, in another time it might be him who put these people in their grave, and that thought, though unspoken, is not far from his mind.

See, he does learn. Slowly, but he learns. However, he's not as much of a connoisseur of cake as he is of wine. He hesitates before settling on, "I'm sure there's somewhere Downtown that has a nice, fresh slice waiting for us."

He steps away briefly to tell another helper that he'll be back, and to give him a few instructions, before returning to Adia with a smile. If she'll allow him, he'll drape his arm around her shoulder, protective and proud, while steering them both towards the parts of the Nexus that are less damaged.

"Did your friends make it onto the ship all right? Did Will?"

She nods agreeably to his suggestion of heading Downtown, then waits patiently while he speaks with another of the volunteers. It is a task she does not envy. And though she still does not place her faith in gods, she whispers a prayer for the dead anyway, a blessing for safe passage across the river Styx and into the Fields of Elysium. It's the least she can do.

Her mood lifts when Reynard returns to her side and wraps an arm around her shoulders. It's nice to have him so close, even if his smell leaves something to be desired. "They did," she answers, walking with him at a companionable pace. "My friend Seth organized everyone from the Chiron, and came back to get me when I fell behind."

At the mention of Will, she looks away, as if embarrassed. "Will's fine, too. I, um... I broke up with him. He's on a different ship, which means we'll rarely see one another, and with everything else that had happened, I didn't want to lead him on." As confident as she is that it was the right thing to do, she still feels guilty that she had to let him go. "He took it really well," she adds, before Reynard can feel too sorry for poor Will. "He'll be riding high on the success of the Resistance for a long time."

That's a relief. She really doesn't deserve anything as awful as the death of another friend. This is some small mercy, at least. He smiles gently at her. "If I ever meet Seth, remind me to thank him."

Far from feeling sorry for Will, there's a firm "Good" when she's finished explaining. He pats her shoulder. "You deserve better, my dear. Not someone who brings you so much stress and worry. A friendly parting is the best you could ask for. Besides... it means you have more time for me." He winks at her then.

Other ships were not so fortunate. Luck was on Adia's side during the evacuation, in more ways than one. "Sure," she says, returning his smile. replaying the event in her head. "He literally scooped me up and carried me to the ship..." She lightly touches the side of her face, remembering what had made her fall behind in the first place. "But he's not the only one who saved me that day."

Dealing with her own mixed feelings, she does not anticipate his hearty approval, or the cheeky comment that follows. It gives her the giggles, and a warm feeling inside that she has his approval. "Will's a good guy, but you're right, I have enough to worry about. And I'll always have time for you, Reynard. You know that." She gives him a friendly nudge with her elbow and grins. "Especially if you're getting me cake."

That turns him thoughtful, and he finds himself even more thankful. Adia is not physically strong or fast, in a time where that is a distinct advantage. The fact that others are looking out for her makes for some small measure of reassurance. Not that he's about to share this train of thought with his friend just now. "I'm not surprised. It's not hard to know that you're worth saving."

Reynard's grin widens. "If I were better at baking I'd make one for you, but I leave the art to the artists." As he says that, he spots a café with nice little cakes in an intact window. He steers them closer and, on finding it's open and not being used to help organise the cleanup, steps inside and holds the door open for Adia. It's a small shop, but the cake and pastry selection is plentiful. The person behind the counter isn't human, but they look large and friendly, as if they've eaten a few too many of their own goods.

"Take your pick. Do you have a favourite cake?"

The compliment makes her blush and shrug modestly. If only she were strong and fast, she wouldn't need to be saved so often. "It was Julia," she reveals, giving credit where credit is due. "The Cylon in my lab... when the evacuation started, another Cylon, Four, hit me hard enough to nearly knock me out. He was determined to not let me leave... but Julia stopped him."

Stopped him with a heavy microscope to the head, but she won't elaborate unless he asks for details. "I didn't think she cared about me enough to do that. I've never even heard of a Cylon committing an act of violence against another Cylon before..."

There is a thoughtful frown on her face, but it's quickly replaced with a smile once she enters the cafe. Cylon politics can wait, she has an important decision to make. "Chocolate," she tells Reynard as she leans over and peruses the selection in the glass display. "Oh, but the lemon one looks so good... and the strawberry one, too..."

After careful deliberation, she points to the chocolate cake covered in ganache frosting. When in doubt, go with the chocolate. "That one, please. Is that okay?"

After everything Adia's told him, he can't help but be surprised at the news that one of the people to help her was a Cylon. It certainly makes things more interesting in hindsight. More complicated. He looks at Adia and decides that, unless she doesn't want it to, complicated will be avoided for now. At least until she's had her cake.

"Of course it is, my dear." He asks the being behind the counter for a slice of Adia's choice, one of a spiced sponge cake, a coffee and whatever Adia would like to drink. After paying he takes their tray of treats to a table by the window.

"I feel as though we should have a candle on it. Or writing. 'Happy Rescue Day', perhaps." Once he's sorted out transferring their purchases to the table and set aside the tray, he sniffs the coffee and then hazards a sip. His nose wrinkles ever so slightly, but he nods and sets it down. "Is it nicer to be in the stars again?"

At least this twist on Cylon behavior doesn't seem to cause her any anguish, only confusion, She smiles her thanks at Reynard and politely requests a coffee with steamed milk when prompted. The employee, flattered by how much Adia admires their wares, is generous with the portions. One could potentially write "Happy Rescue Day" on the slice of chocolate if they had small enough handwriting. Adia laughs softly at the idea.

"My Nana loved that kind of cake," she says to Reynard, pointing to his slice. The thought amuses her, that they would have that in common. His reaction to the coffee doesn't go unnoticed, but when she tries her own drink, she finds nothing out of place. "It is nicer... but not so much because of the stars, although I do love the view. I feel more comfortable being in my room again, and the labs. I'd missed it."

Follow-up questions will have to wait until Adia has had her first bite of cake. She carefully cuts a small piece with her fork and then pops it into her mouth, savoring the flavor. It is very good, and not just because she'd been eating baked goods on New Caprica that had the consistency of sawdust. Yes, chocolate was the right choice.

"I'm a sucker for the classics," he tells her with a smile. It's not just Adia who's amused by the thought that he shares her grandmother's favourite cake. He's a little pleased she found a similarity, too. Being compared to a loved on is never a bad thing.

He nods along with her description and takes the time to pick slowly at his cake, enjoying it bit by bit. When he spots how much she clearly enjoys her own, he chuckles. "Cake was a good choice." Wine is his habit, but sometimes a celebration just calls for cake.

"She made hers with rum," Adia notes, smiling. It's fun to reminisce, especially in the comfortable, homey setting of the quiet cafe. "She'd pour herself a tiny glass and say, 'A little for me, a little for the cake.'"

She nods in agreement, silent until she has swallowed another bite. It's nice to see him enjoying his dessert, too, and not just humoring her preference of sweets over wine. "We didn't have anything like this on the Chiron, but a few of us had some treats squirreled away that the Cylons hadn't touched."

Adia's memory gets a hearty laugh. "Very good! I think I would have liked her! That is a woman who knows how to enjoy the kitchen."

"Rations are awful no matter which country or war you're in." He takes another bite of his cake, thoughtful while he savours the flavour. "You never resorted to boiling leather, did you?"

"It was her favorite room of the house," she agrees. "She loved to bake." Her gaze softens as she focuses on her cup of coffee, lifting it up for a sip. Her memories of her grandmother are special things, untouched by the war. "I think she would have liked you, too. She certainly wouldn't have let you leave without a slice of cake."

The thought of boiling leather for consumption makes her wrinkle her nose in disgust. "No, thank goodness. It wouldn't work, either, the leather we wear is treated with all sorts of chemicals, it'd likely poison us." She sighs and slices off another bit of cake. "We've been lucky, we haven't starved yet. But we've lost our access to the algae vats that were on New Caprica, so we might face that problem sooner rather than later."

It's not hard to see Adia's love for her grandmother. He's happy to help her remember something so nice. "I can't help but love it when you meet someone with a good sense of hospitality. I'd say it was the spirit in me, but it's the mortal part that loves the cake. Did she ever teach you to bake?"

Reynard laughs at her reaction before he can help himself, but just as quickly he's looking at her in puzzlement. "Algae vats? You eat algae?"

"She lived through the first Cylon war, she remembered what it was like to go without. Any chance she had to make something for others, she'd take it." She smiles sadly at the question. "She did, but none of the lessons stuck. I didn't practice enough."

"We don't eat it plain," she replies quickly. "It's turned into a nutritional slurry and processed with other ingredients like gluten or soy protein..." It's about as appetizing as it sounds. She drops her gaze, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. They've both lived through war but technology changes the details. "It keeps us from starving, at least."

"A good woman." It's not the time to be bringing up sad thoughts. In an effort to cheer her up, he reaches over and puts a hand on her arm. "None of the baking lessons stuck. Don't worry about them. She gave you precious memories too."

He can't help but chuckle as she explains. Try as she might, she's not selling it. "It sounds as bad as gruel." Resting his arms on the table, he leans a little closer. "When salt started becoming cheap in my world I nearly had a heart attack. I added it to everything I could. I thought it was such a luxury! But that's only because I couldn't make cake every day." He winks and leans back again.

It is unfortunately all too easy for Adia's thoughts to turn melancholic, even at the best of times, but Reynard's words and friendly touch ground her and bring the light back into her smile. "She did... and you're right, the baking isn't important. I don't think I've lived anywhere with a kitchen where I could have done it justice, anyway."

She's not trying to make it sound good, she just doesn't want him to think that she's drinking algae smoothies or eating bowls of green, goopy soup. But his laughter is infectious, and his story about salt has her giggling soon enough. "Salt we have plenty of. It's easy enough to make. I'm surprised you didn't have a literal heart attack, too much salt is bad for the cardiovascular system."

As worn out as he feels, it's not hard to smile back at the turnaround. That he swiftly helped her duck around her sadness makes him a little bit proud of himself. He'll keep that hidden, though.

"If Winter didn't do me the kindness of fixing me up every year I'd certainly be in a much worse state." There's a moment, just a flash, where he feels the vivid pang on loss and it shows, but he's forcing a laugh just as quickly. He pats his stomach and scratches the tangle on his chin. "A bigger belly, for a start, and greyer hair." Those wouldn't be the most striking differences, but they're much easier to laugh at.

That brief glimpse into his loss is difficult to witness. It's relatable and foreign to her all at once, and she hates to see her friend suffer. As much as he bolstered her mood, she wishes she could return the favor and replace his forced laugh with a genuine one. "You'd be better at playing at Father Christmas," she jokes, recalling one of their earlier conversations. "Or Dionysius."

She takes a sip of coffee, trying to think of something else light-hearted to say, but her curiosity over his renewed youth won't leave her mind. "Is that how it works?" she finally asks. "You're taken back to peak condition every winter? Or is it more gradual?"

The comparison gets a moment of consideration before he cocks his head to one side. "You know, I wouldn't mind being either of those. Maybe I'd prefer Father Christmas, a Winter spirit in his own right. And I'd get to share cake with you, rather than just fill your cup when you came to visit."

"It's instantaneous," he says with a flourish and a hollow smile. His eyes glaze over but his hands still gesture as he talks. "I can't help but be as strong as my Season. It cures all my ills, heals all my wounds... Sometimes it will leave scars. To build character. For me to remember, for me to honour that part of my life until I'm ready for it to go. It remembers every sickness and every wound I've taken. I've lost count of how many times it saved me."

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