02.04.3014: Black, Then White
Summary: Cedric pays Sarah a visit.
Date: 17 November 2013
Related: Sarah's logs, and those with Cedric and Lyrienne.
Sarah Cedric 


A Cell, a Watch House in Landing
Well established by now.
February 4, 3014

There is only one chair to be found within the vicinity of Sarah's cell in the sublevels of the Watch House. It sits outside of her cell, always poised for whoever may be coming to visit with the captive next. Its match, usually kept within the Hostile's cell, is completely absent. The Soldier doesn't seem perturbed by its absence, sitting instead in the dead center of the floor of her one-room abode. Her tablet sits in front of her, screen dark, and a pair of durable earbuds connected to it and tucked within her ears. The flesh around her left eye and cheek is dark and swollen with bruising, and a stretch of vibrant blue synthskin is stretched over what had been an open wound. She has her eyes closed, sitting cross-legged, spine straight, and hands draped lightly over her thighs. If Hostiles meditate, then this is quite a meditation pose.

Cedric isn't the kind of person that would talk to Sarah. After reviewing the majority of logs of people who have spoken to her, she's not given anything that he'd call valuable, either before or after his turn of opinion regarding the war as a whole. Which really wasn't that far from the original, only he knows more than he did previously. But he's here at his both his grandfather, his sister, and his wife's urging. As if something he would say or do would make any difference to the Cantosan. Which he believes it won't, but under that kind of pressure to do his part, there's a sense of obligation to at least playcate them.

He arrives with no fanfare. First thing he does is sets a medium-sized briefcase on the nearby table. There's a glance at the chair that Sarah has mentioned continously that sits before her shielded door. It's picked up and set next to the table. The Captain, dressed in his uniform then takes a seat, setting the briefcase before him, unlatching it. Is it paperwork? Recording devices? Torture implements? None of these, it's countless peices of plastic, of varrying shapes and sizes.

If his arrival makes any noise, Sarah does not seem to register it — though this may be because of the earbuds in her ears and her eyes being closed. Her breathing is steady based on the small vidscreen in the hallway just outside her cell. Heart rhythm is so regular that it could be a metronome. One of the guard who stands at the checkpoint Cedric had just passed through continues to cast scathing looks toward the cell, his own face bearing similar marks to Sarah's.

"What caused that?" Cedric asks over his shoulder at the guard in regards to their mirroring injuries, having since seated himself at the desk, starting to arrange the peices into specific piles that likely only make sense to the Captain and his way of doing things. He makes no move to interrupt whatever it is that Sarah happens to doing, casting only secondary glance as if she's watching or still in her state. If there's one thing he's learned from his wife, is that you don't disturb someone while their meditating. They tend to hold it against you for the rest of the day.

"They didn't see see eye to eye on something, my Lord," says the other guard, and his partner grunts. "She threw a punch, he returned it…"

Then the bruised guard finally replies with a grouchy, "I'm the one with the bruised knuckles." Which is only because Sarah's are cybernetic. They both glance toward the Captain as he prepares for his visit with the captive. The one who spoke first rolls his shoulders a bit under his combat armor.

"She's just listening to music, Lord… she was informed she had a visitor… you'll need to make your presence known, otherwise she's going to be stubborn." His partner just grunts again.

Within the cell, Sarah just remains still with her eyes closed.

Cedric nods quietly. "These things happen." he notes simply, holding up a particular gray chunk of plastic, debating which pile it goes into. "That tends to happen with disagreements." Getting up, he goes to a supply cabinet near the guards, pulling out one of the plastic containers whenever something needs to be passed into Sarah's cell. Turning to the guards, he focuses on the bruised one. He reads the nametag on his armor. "Tell you want, take your lunch break early." It's said nicely, but it also doesn't quite sound like a request. The pips on his collar actually mean something. "I'd like to be to talk to the Cantosan without her eyeballing you with death glares. Me and the other guard will be able to handle anything should it arise."

That doesn't sit well with the guard at first, and he exchanges glances with his partner. But, ultimately, after what appears to be the silent communication between two men use to working together, he nods slowly. "Yeah, alright, thank you, my Lord," he says quietly before he nods to pair of Havenites before he casts another glance to where Sarah continues to sit on the floor. He then departs. The other guard just nods to Cedric while he lets the man continue to do whatever it is he is doing. He resumes his post.

Cedric nods. "Thank you." he says politely, taking the plastic container and going back to his table. He slides a portion of the peices into the container with a slip of paper that holds a picture. There's a partially thoughtful expression, then he unclips his nametag on his uniform, slipping it into his pocket wordlessly. Then, taking the container, he slides it into the space between him and her, where she takes her meals. Then, he retakes his seat the table, looking at the half that he has left. "You'll forgive my intrusion." he starts, beginning to scatter the leftover peices in a similar fashion as he had before. "But I was wondering if you would be able to help me with this."

Sarah is aware enough of movement outside of her cell to lift her eyes slightly as the Captain moves in front of the static shield to deposit the cup. She stares at it and him for a long moment, those luminous blue eyes unblinking while she remains in a calculated silence. She reaches up to remove her earbuds, one at a time, and then she taps the tablet to pause the music. She does not stand right away to fetch the cup, but instead observes the man in his naval uniform. "What is it?" She asks in her flat alto, still seated on the smooth floors in her sweats and tank top.

Cedric isn't facing Sarah, he's focused on his parts, slowly start to put together one particular side of the ship. "Terran Naval battlecruiser. Called the Defiance, I believe, if the history records are correct. Little information on it, beyond that it was stationed on Titan. One of the largest, and one of the few I haven't gotten around to constructing personally." he explains simply. "There's a picture of it included in container. No directions, I find directions take the challenge and joy out of it. Anyone can follow instructions, takes talent to do so without them. She'll be a beauty when she's completed."

Sarah arches her brows ever so slightly, and perhaps encouraged solely by her own curiosity, she stands to fetch the cup. It is a direct path from her spot on the floor, to the cup, and back to the floor once more. She stares into the cup for a few moments before she hap-hazardously dumps out the parts onto the floor before her. The piece of paper floats idly down to rest just aside of the pile. She stares at the pieces for a few moments. "What is the purpose of this exercise?" She asks, glancing over to him once more.

"Because it's something to do?" Cedric offers. "I'm not here to ask you questions or even really get inside your head. Or anything, really. I just understand the monotony of four walls and meals being given at exact times of the day." He holds a particular peice in his hand, studying it. "And you seemed to be the kind of person that enjoyed this kind of thing, so I thought if you'd like to assist." There's a glance at his own image of the ship. "Earth starships. Now they knew how to construct a ship and use it properly. There's an elegance in them that hasn't been replicated yet. A sleek look of form and functionality while being peices of art in their own right. Works of expert craftmanship. Not the lumbering, flying bricks I have to deal with. This is what a real ship is supposed to look like."

Sarah is critical of the pieces in front of her, but she indulges the Havenite on the task. She picks up the picture to stare at it for a few moments. Whatever opinion she may have of Old Earth construction is not said aloud as she merely picks up what appears to be the first piece and start the search for the second. Every motion is done thoughtfully, critically, though without much urgency. She works in silence for a little while longer before she states in her flat alto, "What purpose is there in this construction?"

"Depends on the person, I suppose." Cedric replies, easily. "People need hobbies, something to occupy their time. Human minds are always so…active. They can only do repeitive tasks for so long before it becomes…mundane? Monotonous? Some people paint, others do drugs. Some sing, some fight in underground fighting rings. Other train, some read. Because it gives them personal fulfillment? A goal to reach? A sense of satisfaction upon completion? There's no one right answer. Humanity is like a…diamond, maybe? Shine a singular beam of light on it and it scatters. The single beam is…something, a singular topic, doesn't matter what it is. The light particle scatter is likely how many reasons you'll get for why someone either likes it or doesn't, and their reasons why."

"And you take pleasure in the miniature reconstruction of ships that are no longer relevant," Sarah states without inquiry. She carries forth as she starts to puzzle the pieces together, though she doesn't appear to be all that good at this activity. There is another lapse of silence from the woman before she continues, "I do not quite see the cerebral appeal."

"I do." Cedric nods. "As I said, I have a fondness for Old Earth history. Ships in particular. I think apart of it is that I'd would've rather been an explorer than a ramship Captain. There are bigger and larger mysterious in our universe that are just waiting to be found. I'm envious of those who left Earth and perhaps found more than anyone in this system ever did. Perhaps they met a non-human race. Or a planet that orbited twin stars. Or ventured to the galatic center of the Milky Way. What did they do? What did they accomplish? Would we even recognize them? They us? People are so caught up in the mundane, the here and now. Few actually look above and ponder the larger picture, events that'll happen long into the future. And if I could do anything, I'd leave this system behind, and seek what was to be found." He shakes his head, smiling a little. "Flights of fancy, unrealistic at best. A shame. Excuse me, I went off on a tangent. As to your question, it doesn't have to be cerebral. Personally, it keeps my mind sharp. Everything, I've noticed in my experience, is never so straight forward. More often than not, it's a puzzle, the piecies need to be arranged and fall into place to see the complete picture."

Sarah is silent. Her cybernetic fingers continue to provide their fine motor control, allowing her to easily extract a particularly miniscule piece from the pile. She isn't really making much effective progress on this task, but she has not yet given up on the assembly. She glances toward the provided image now and then before she returns her focus to the hull. "If that is what… satisfies you, I suppose," she says simply. "I prefer alternatives."

"That's the key, it never satisfies me." Cedric replies. "If you are satisfied, you grow stagnant. You stop wondering, stop questioning. Never be satisfied. You finish something, start something new. Completion should not be an end, but a stepping stone onto the next." A shrug then. "You should see my office, it's littered with models such as that one. Mostly Earth ones, not all military. Their exploration ships were massive things, akin to a flying space station. Marvels of engineering from the looks of them. But I also have Havenite and Cantosan ships as well. They're interesting, but they don't hold my interest nearly as much. Those take me a few days, but these, such as this one will take me weeks to complete. There is construction, sanding, painting, and then the most excruiating part that can ruin the entire affair if not done properly and done with a steady hand." A glance over at her. "Such as?"

"Even those of Cantos know that much of the historical data on Earth was lost due to an unseen corruption." Sarah continues the construction though she has realized she has already misused a piece and therefore is staring at what little she has managed to construct with a bit of disdain. Then she sinks into a quiet thoughtfulness. "I can understand your whismical attraction, but Earth holds little to no bearings, save for being a point of origin." She then picks up the picture to stare at it for a long moment. "This System and these Worlds are what matter." There is another lapse of silence before she looks up to the Inner Worlder. "Mathematical arts," she says in regards to his question. "Tessellations. I make them."

"True enough, but perhaps that's what makes it so interesting. An orgin that we know so little of. History and time moves in lines, puncuated by a series of points. But we have no point, save that we came from it. So for me, I try to look back to see where we're going. Whimsical, perhaps, but not useless. As for this system and it's worlds…it matters, but only so much. There are likely larger things that lurk in the dark between the stars, and for now, we are wholly oblivious to them. There may come a time where they will no longer be ignored. Then, and perhaps only then, will all the worlds in this system realize just how small they truly are." This is something that, while most would laugh, he takes very seriously, but he smiles again. "I can't say I've heard of tessellations. Care to share?" And as if something off-handed occurs to him, he looks at her tablet. "You're allowed music or whatever it might be that you're listening to? Have you been allowed to view vids here as well?"

Sarah is silent once more in the wake of his words about the greater beyond. She has started to fold the piece of paper that has the image of the ship on it, carefully and precisely making each of her creases. She lifts her chin slightly at his question about tessellations. "In simplest terms, they are tiled patterns that are crafted from geometric shapes." Then she glances down at her tablet at his question, and then back up toward the Havenite. "I have been provided vids before… I have seen a soccer match."

"Ah, those." Cedric seems to be familar with the shape Sarah has folded together. "My son…of all people is quite fond of similar things. He's only eight, but he says he likes how all sides are the same. I think he has fondness for symetry, though he makes them out of clay. I think that's partly why I think he'll end up as a doctor or engineer. I've…never been particuarly good with them, but I can see the appeal." The matter of the sport makes him form. "Who said that word?" he frowns, sully. "That's not the correct term, it's football. Whoever gave you the word for it, clearly doesn't appreciate it." There's another device with him. "Well, I suppose that makes this pointless." he muses, looking at it. "I wasn't sure if you had access to live vids, so I brought you this player to give you access to current viewing, not just recorded ones. Because…well, I'll be the first to admit that not everyone likes or appreciates football, and if it's not really your thing, I can wholly understand that. My wife…she tolerates my fandom over it. Just don't watch any Comets games. Really, it's a letdown. Much to my burning displeasure."

"I do not have an outside connection, it violates the steps taken by your military command to ensure that I remain disconnected from communication," Sarah explains concerning live vids, though there is something hollow in those words. She looks up after a few moments as he talks about this football, and she arches up her brows a bit. "Competition is a positive cultural norm… failures are as well. Without failures, you will never be able to understand the glory of success." She then looks down at the shape she is folding with the paper, slowly turning its two dimensionality into three. She is quiet as she works on the shape, slowly crafting what appears to be a simple triangular based pyramid.

"My military command." Cedric suddenly turns to look at the camera recording them. "Does not always have…" he pauses, picking his words, looking back to Sarah, "…'forward thinking' in many situations. I don't think there would be any harm in allowing you to that. No matter, this may work better to your advantage, because I don't watch much holo-vid." He waves a hand idly. "I think we put too much stock into success and failures, I feel they're too narrow a scope, limiting. Expectations are expected, there should always be a choice. Such things only limit us to one path of outcome, a predestined outcome. A false reality, not your own, but dictated by someone else. Yours, mine, everyone all dictated by choice, not the whims of those lording over us. Most either don't realize it or are held back in some for or another." There's a decent chunk of hull constructed on his, setting it down.

"Tell you what…argh, damnit." His left eye's iris is suddenly glowing red. "Excuse me for a moment." Then he lifts his hand up to his. There's a electrical 'buzz', then a 'click'. When he lowers his hand, his eyeball is being held in it, a gaping black hole left in it's socket. "Neural feedback, happens sometimes." The small prongs that connect into his skull have a slight build up of organic material covering it, which he's starting to clean off.

Sarah actually arches up her brows at the suggestion of giving her even the slightest bit of access to any kind of outside signal. She finishes her shape, setting it aside before she rests her arms languidly across her legs as she remains seated on the floor with the bits and pieces of the unfinished model. She stares at him for a long moment, lapsed once more into silence. She merely watches him with those luminous blue eyes, even when he pops out his own cybernetic eye to clear away the obstructions. She waits to hear what else he has to say.

Nobody ever notices the medical scars on the side of his head and around the left parts of his face. Faint, thing, percise lines that suggest his face was cut open and cybernetics were inserted. But it seems like something Cedric does on a regular basis. The material doesn't look so much like puss as it does like an overgrown scabby material. Not long after, he places it back into his head, the same click and buzzing sounds as it intergrates back into his cranial neural link. He blinks a few times, looking around. There's 'whirring' sound as it readjusts to focus before fading into silence.

"Better. Excuse that." He looks back to the small device with him. "I anticipated that response, it's not something I really agree with, but my rank does not allow me to much about it. I don't know how many vids you've received, but I fathom you've already watched them repeatedly. So what I suggest is giving my families selection of vids. Movies, series, whatever you like, and more than enough to draw your attention away from these four walls. You may find such things pointless or trival, so you're free to decline should you wish. But I thought it might be better than," he gestures around. "this. Until I can convince my superiors that you deserve to be sent back to your people anyways."

Again there is that long length of critical silence from the Hostile before she inclines her head slightly. "I will peruse them," she finally says. She gestures a bit to the pieces she still has on her side of the field. "Would you like these back?" She picks up the cup and starts carefully shoveling the pieces back into it with the palm of her hand. She slowly starts to stand once they are all picked up. She is nothing if not tidy, it would seem. She has not yet replied to the premise of being released back to her people, but when she does, it is said in that flat alto, "I will never be… returned… to my people."

Cedric nods. "Good, then. My son decided he thought you would like ones he picked out. I'm not sure how you feel about cartoons but…I'll leave that up to you." The device is memory device, a larger one from the looks of it. Not communication abilities, just simple memory dump from one point to the next. It's set in the exchange drawer. "You might be surprised. Personally, I see no point in keeping you here. You're a dedicated soldier, one to be respected. And infact, I'd respect you less you did start talking about your people capabilities, and it's insulting to you that we assume that you would. No soldier worth their duty would do so willingly, they would rather die, as it the way it should be than betray their own. No, keeping you here gains nothing for either of us. You're not to be something to poked and looked at as if some kind of curiosity. Again, I find such things insulting." He shakes his head. "I've looked into the possibility, and I'd have to say there is a chance, how large of one, I don't know. But giving you back to your fellow Cantosans? It's the only proper thing to do, it's the -right- thing to do." He snorts. "A shame how 'doing the right thing' and the 'interests of other' never seem to coincide."

Sarah is silent once more. Speaking more on this could betray more than just keeping those thoughts buried deep, deep within. She sets the cup of pieces where he had deposited them at the beginning. She regards him with those luminous blue eyes before she merely inclines her head. "Thank you for the task," is all she says in reply as she turns away, stepping back so that he can collect the cup without her being near by. She knows some prisoner protocol at least.

"You're task isn't finished." Cedric replies, taking the cup. He handles the larger peice she's so far contstructed, as if evaluating it. "Well done, very few visable seems. You have an eye for craftmanship." he notes. A marker and baggie is produced, placing the peice into it and marking it. "We have started a task together, and it would be insulting if you were not apart of it's completion. And I would not deny a person that sense of seeing something from start to completion. So, the Defiance will sit in it's box until we complete it." He glances her over. "Besides, I have suspcion you have better manual dexterity than myself. The stickers, oh the stickers, that will be a challenge for you." A nod at the memory device in the slot. "Don't forget your entertainment. Watch at your leisure. I'll update should you find something of particular interesting. Thank you for the pleasure of speaking." The Captain who hasn't given his name, bows polietly, then starting to gather his things.

Sarah glances over toward the Captain, but she says nothing more. She strides toward where she left the tablet and headphones, picking both up before she starts toward her single-wide bed along the adjacent wall. She doesn't say goodbye, but that's fairly normal for the prisoner. She instead sits down at the edge of the bed, tucking the earbuds into her ears before she looks back down at her tablet to finish off the piece she had been listening to. She will glance his way once while he makes his leave.

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