Tea and Sympathies
Tea and Sympathies
Summary: Evelyn has a chance encounter with Greje, while subtly fretting about Micah. After which, Eve takes the widow's walk.
Date: 56 ACH
Related Logs: None

Mess Hall Genesis - Deck 9
55 ACH 23817 Souls

The Mess Hall on the Genesis is quite large and able to hold over 300 personnel at a time. Tables are staggered in some areas and set against the wall in others. The mess hall begins near the hatch with an area for trays and silverware, then moves through the line for the cooks to dish up whatever is on the menu for the day. There are also snack machines at the end of the line, past the huge coffee urns and water dispensers.

< Condition Three —- Public Area >

Contents: Eve Wireless 1498
Exits: [O] Corridor
Special: +lhelp - Local Help Available

While most around her are eating with gusto, Evelyn sits at a table with a bowl of what appears to be oatmeal and pokes at it with her spoon unenthusiastically. Also on her tray are a few orange colored tablets wrapped in their individual cellophane and a bottle of water. Looks like she's eating light, if at all.

Greje floats in late, looking like the face of death. No, literally, she's wearing her dark Apolline robes and has that dreaded rope wound around her wrist, a pounch hanging from each end of the cord to bring Earth and Silver to the dead or dying in the last rites. It's not too uncommon, these days, to see her in the garb, but it still always raises a few heads and casts a somber pall over a few conversations. Her hood's back slightly over her head, and her features look simply drained and exhausted as her numb steps carry her to the coffee toureen.

Eve glances up, like so many other sets of eyes, tracing Greje as she travels to get some Java. Unlike most, though, Evelyn merely looks curious. She's never had the opportunity to track down the Chaplain herself, and so this is like observing the woman in a great social experiment. Her spoon dips again, this time actually scooping up a bit in the bowl of the utensil and actually fighting it down.

Greje rests the rope against the coffee mug, drawing up her wrist to pull the spigot on the coffee toureen, her hand shaking a little in the sight of anyone taking keen observation. She only draws a half-cup of the steaming liquid, and turns to stare around the place for somewhere to sit— holding out for an empty table, evidently, since the lack of such available sends her just sort of pacing numbly next to the bulkhead as she sips.

Eve isn't wrapped up too much in her own personal drama that she can't make room in her life for a few others. Normally, they get relegated to a couch in her office, but she's willing to make acceptions. "Chaplain? There's an empty seat over here, why don't you take a load off. Besides, I could use some company." She even musters a friendly smile to go along with that invitation.

Greje turns her head, her ears finding the voice, and it's a moment before her eyes settle on Eve. "Oh. Doctor— thank you," she replies, shuffling over in that direction and settling down, pushing back the hood completely with her free hand and keeping the rope-bound hand underneath the table. Nobody wants to look at that while they're eating. She sips the coffee again. "How are you?" she asks, though there's not much behind it but a simple gesture to fend off any awkward silence.

Eve doesn't seem to mind any religious icons the woman is toting, even if she looks like the harbringer of the Elysian Fields. But then again, Evelyn is the accepting sort. Comes with the territory, and perhaps its something they have in common. "I've been better, I've been worse, but that's pretty much par for the course around here. You…look like you've had a rough day." It sounds like a casual observation, but is there such a thing when it comes to a Psych? Evelyn busies her hands by cracking open the packaging of the two round tablets, adding them to the water.

"Agreed," Greje replies, to the par-for-the-course comment, then nods her head blearily, "And a long night beforehand," she adds, lifting the coffee to sip, and then looking around, "Is this breakfast or lunch I've wandered into?"

Eve is shaking the bottle so the tablets dissolve faster, leaning over her bowl of oatmeal with dismay. "Dinner actually. Don't let my choice fool you, I've just been having trouble with normal people foods." She leans back with a slight sigh. "I'm not a terribly religious woman, and please don't take that as an affront, it merely is a segway into me asking why you look like walking doom and gloom."

Greje raises both brows, looking awake for sheer force of the surprise that overtakes her. "It's dinnertime already?" she takes a deep breath, "Oh, you too? My stomach's been hating me recently, too. Nerves, I suspect. I hadn't thought to bother medical for an antacid, though this coffee probably doesn't help, either," she blathers on aimlessly in her weariness. "Oh— I spent the evening with Mr. Gars," she replies, as regards that last question.

Eve lips form in a slight 'oh' expression. Clearly, she's linking that with prior knowledge she has regarding that particular marine. "That would leave anyone harrowed. I believe after the time I spent with him, I nearly took a nurse's head off with a mild mannered case file." She smirks a bit. "I thought it was indigestion too, but unfortunately my problems can't be fixed with a mere antacid anymore." She picks up the orange bottle, as if in demonstration. "Prenatal vitamins."

Greje's eyebrows quirk. "Transferred epithet?" she wonders aimlessly, just one of those comments she'd usually think but some nice filter would keep her from saying aloud. That fitler's gone missing, evidently. "Oh! Congratulations," she expresses, since that's the normal sort of thing to say in a case like this. "I suppose it's auspicious that Hera should join our fleet right now." Protectress of pregnant women and childbirth, after all.

Eve smiles a bit, but its clear she told the Chaplain that for reasons other than merely receiving a congratulatory remark. She mmms around a drink of the orange concoction. "Thank you." She comments, after a swallow. "I suppose Hera smiled on me with one soul, then quite literally brought us Seventeen thousand others, hmm? Kind of poetic, if you're given to such things. You know, if you and I ever got together, got drunk, and started talking? The fleet would run in fear."

Nothing much is clear to the Chaplain right now. She looks half as though she may not recall the conversation in the morning, truth to tell, but she smiles at the sentiment and then tips her head to one side, "Why's that? Dionysus deinotatos?" she chuckles faintly.

Eve smiles sidelong to the Chaplain. "Do you always require a translator over coffee? Seems I've been amiss in one area of this fleet, I'll have to spend more time in the Chapel in order to be able to truly appreciate your humor. Just when I think I have pilots and marines figured out, too."

Greje chuckles. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just a little punchy, I guess." She closes her eyes and the punchiness fades as she remembers the man she left with the mark of earth on his forehead in the brig, waiting to die. How can she be making jokes at a time like this? "I'm tired," she explains, and it's backed up by the hard time her eyelids have opening again.

Eve is tipping her bottle back again, working on finishing that vitamin water as fast as she can. It can't be terribly appetizing. "Tell you what. I'm overdue for my walk today. Why don't I walk with you back to your quarters, and I'll conjole some private into bringing up food for you later after you've had a nap, hmm?"

[Intercom] Now here this, now here this. Captain Nikos, Ensign St. Germain, Ensign Scala, Ensign Dynames, Ensign Maru and Kalypso Leto, please report to the Ready Room for mission briefing.

Greje shakes her head subtly. "I need to go back to the offices and get out of these robes and put away the rest," she explains, though it's half-interrupted with a yawn she tries to hide in the crook of her elbow. She then takes and drains the rest of her half-cup of coffee. "I'll be alright until bedtime," she declares, clearing her throat to increase blood flow to her brain and sitting up straight. "I'll just sleep like a log tonight. But if you'd like to walk— I should probably stop putting these nice people off of their feed," she smiles a little. There has been a modicum less scarfage 'round about since she came in bearing the aura of the grave with her.

Eve glances upwards as the names are listed off, the skin around her eyes wrinkling in what could be considered a wince. A sigh escapes her lips, which are struggling to smile now. Her attention goes back to Greje, "Yes of course. That would be lovely. Back to your offices or your quarters is no matter to me, the company is the same."

Greje is really just about totally oblivious to these subtle visual cues, right now. But the sigh catches her meandering attention, and draws some focus from the tired-looking priestling. She doesn't say anything about it, for the time being, though, but nods, actually lifting her coffee mug to drink before she rememebers that she finished it. "Sounds nice. Do you want me to bus your tray?" she asks.

Eve gives a bit of a laugh at that, "Nonsense. I'm down, but I'm not out. Ask me again in about seven more months when I can no longer remember what my toes look like. Besides, I'm under doctors orders not to get lazy." She's standing up, dragging her tray to the edge before hefting it up. Not like its heavy with a bowl, a spoon, and an empty water bottle on it. "Let me get you a refill, then we can set off." She offers, balancing the tray in one hand and holding her hand out for the empty cup.

"Oh— no," Greje replies, putting her free hand over the top of the cup, then picking it up and standing, "If I get any more shaky I'll drill a hole through the bulkhead," she supposes, following along to bus her mug as well.

Eve sighs wistfully. "I miss the coffee jitters." She comments, even though she only found out a few days ago, she's acting like its a life time. "Relegated to decaf now. The good thing is, people don't prefer it, which leaves plenty around for me." She moves with the Chaplain, each taking their dishes to the tubs where they are waiting. Eve takes a moment, scraping out the last of the oatmeal from her bowl, then seperating her dish from her utensil.

Greje just sets the mug in place, then lifts it up, then sets it down again. Vapor trails are fun to watch. She shakes her head, then frowns, "Oh— yeah. How's the switch treating you? I tried to go cold turkey off of caffiene once I finished my dissertation. I only barely stopped looking like a zombie before ordination."

Eve gives a bit of a shrug to that. "My body is going through so many changes at the moment, I wouldn't be able to tell you what's effecting what." She's watching the repetative movement of Greje, a slight smirk at what that implies. "Come on. Let's get you squared away back at your offices."

Greje turns to follow, "I might lie down on the couch a few minutes," she grudgingly decides, shuffling after Eve. "Why don't you let me make you a cup of tea when we get there? Herbal— something to help settle your stomach?" Greje adds.

Eve doesn't feel out of place walking next to the be-robed woman, but then again, she keeps the company of all strange matter of folk, from Brass to enlisted. "Wouldn't that be lovely. I haven't had a good cup of tea in a good long while. That and a bath. Its amazing what you miss, sometimes. The simplest of things. Shall we?" She asks, stepping towards the hallway.

You head towards Chaplains Office.

Chaplains Office Genesis - Deck 11
55 ACH 23817 Souls

This is a small suite set aside for ecclesiastical purposes by the head Chaplain, Greje Diomed Karthasi. The larger office has walls covered in bookshelves, her desk sports a laptop computer and a variety of potted plants under a sunlamp, as well as a portable teapot and a mug tree bearing a collection of mugs, all souvenir mugs from a variety of santuaries at which she's practiced, worshipped, or made pilgrimage. There's a ghastly orange loveseat next to the door (for people seeking a moment to chat with the priest in a secular setting), and you need to squeeze between the arm of the loveseat and the front of the desk, but it's comfy enough to sit on.

< Condition Three —- Duty Area >

Contents: Eve Greje Wireless 1828
Exits: [O] Out

Greje heads past the larger office for the moment to open up her own, the little closet of a spot they stowed her in when she came aboard. Complete with Hideous Orange Couch for people coming to see her. But she seems to have made it her cramped, tiny little home, and she shifts between the couch and her desk, then the bookshelves and her desk, then more bookshelves and her desk, pausing a moment in thought before unwinding the cord from around her wrist. "Let's see what we can put together for you." It looks as though she's got her own little phrarmacy growing in her wee garden.

Eve drifts near the doorway, looking around with a subtle little smile on her face. "Its amazingly…" Her voice drifts off, as if unable to find the proper words to finish that sentence. She even reaches out to finger one of the plants a bit lovingly.

Greje looks through the dried clippings she's collected, while Eve is fondling the plant. She drops a few sprigs thoughtfully into a mortar that had heretofore been masquerading as a bookend, and takes the pestle to it, occasionally adding some herbal tea base to mix it in nicely. She looks up at the plant Eve's touching. "Aphrodite's girdle," she names it with a smile.

Eve flashes a smile up at Greje, "And here I just thought it was pretty. I just have garden variety ivy growing in my office. Your office and mine…remarkeably similar. Though I admit, they afforded me a much nicer sofa." She admits, moving over to the aforementioned piece of furniture before claiming one of its cushions.

Greje spoons the tea with the medicinal additions into one of her silver tea-balls and screws it shut, before laughing at herself for forgetting to turn on the water to heat— or inviting Eve to sit. "I'm sorry… make yourself at home," she says, a little late. "It's not that bad a sofa, once your retinas get used to it. At least it's comfortable. I've had a nap or two on there without issue." She looks through her mug collection for one from the sanctuary of Hera on Virgon, which has a comical cartoon of Heracles biting Hera on the tit on one side and the logo of the sanctuary on the other. She hangs the hook of the teaball over the side of the mug while the water heats.

Eve's eyes wander as Greje prepares tea, "I have to ask, there's nothing in there that will…concern my doctors on my next blood test, right?" Yes, please don't drug the poor psychiatrist with happy word of the gods drugs. "Ooh. You have a wireless in here, do …do you mind if I switch it to the tactical channel? I like to keep up with current events…" Or something.

"Oh, certainly, go ahead," Greje answers, "And no, not at all. Just a few things to settle your tummy, and help with muscle aches and headaches," she goes on, switching off the pot once it whistles and pouring the hot water.

Eve is on her feet faster than she should be, but never mind that tingling sense of nausea it causes. She's moving quickly to the wireless, making it buzz with static as she brings it to life, the dials in on the birds in the black. "That sounds absolutely delightful. Maybe I'll get a good night's sleep tonight." Of course, that's also partially contingent on what she hears by her not so subtle ploy to hear what the pilots are up to.

[Tac1] "Jammer" Jocasta says, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you look to your left, you'll see the rag-tag remains of the proud Colonial fleet. And, if you look to your right, you'll see a bright red planet surrounded by rocket fuel. Everybody grab a bucket. We've got tyllium."

Greje scoots around the side of the desk again to present Eve with the mug when she sits back down again, only to turn her head and smile broadly when she hears the first thing over the wireless channel. "Good timing."

[Tac1] "Tempo" Dynames says, "That's a relief, was afraid we'd have to push these things back to the barn. *chuckle*"
[Tac1] Micah lets out a whoop! "Nice work, Jammer. Let us know when you got everythin' you need, and we'll head on back."
[Tac1] "Flask" Orion exhales contentedly, "Hell yeah. Think I'll go swimming in it."

Eve smiles softly at the speaker, her hand drifting off of it as if hesitant to step away. "How wonderful." Whether she's talking about the the tea or the news across wireless is left up to interpretation. Maybe it encompasses both. She returns to her perch on the couch, now craddling the cup of Hera and Hercules. "Thank you." Is said softly, earnestly.

[Tac1] "Jailhouse" Micah says, "You can practice your backstroke later, Flask. Let's keep it sharp."
[Tac1] Kalypso says, "Kalypso lets her own whoop out over the comms at the good news."

Greje smiles, herself, "I'm glad you're here. I would have wondered if I'd dreamt that," she chuckles. "It's tremendous news. And no problem, I hope it does it for you," she says, perching on the corner of her desk near the couch in her usual manner.

Eve glances over at Greje, studying the lines of the woman's face, then she asks, almost impulsively. "May I take off my boots?" Her duty collar is already unfastened, marking her as 'off' without disrobing further. The boots, presumeably, are so she can curl up on the couch properly.

[Tac1] "Tempo" Dynames says, "*thumpings then silence* Frak! Mayday-Mayday! This is Tempo, I'm dead stick and blind. Can you read, over?"
[Tac1] Kalypso says, ""Leto. Everyone else okay out there?""
[Tac1] Kalypso says, "I guess that's a no. I read you Tempo. Loud and clear."
[Tac1] "Jailhouse" Micah says, "Tempo, Jailhouse, I read you. Have you lost all power?"

"Of course, go ahead," Greje replies, "Make yourself comfortable," she moves forward again to hold the mug while she does so, half-listening to the chatter on the channel. "I'm sorry I'm not a better conversationalist this evening. But if you'd like, I've been known to give a footrub or two. Or are you to that stage, yet?" she wonders.

[Tac1] "Jammer" Jocasta says, "We've got another barrage incoming. T-minus two minutes."
[Tac1] "Tempo" Dynames says, "Affirmative. *little nervous, there's some clicking* What you hear is all I got. Copy, Jammer, trying to power back up."
[Tac1] "Flask" Orion says, "Two minutes. Timer marked. We gotta slow her down. Jailhouse, Flask. I'm fixing to give Tempo a nudge, burn off that inertia in case she can't come out of that."
[Tac1] "Jailhouse" Micah says, "Copy, Tempo. Jammer, how're those tyllium readings comin'? Sooner we can get the frak out of dodge, the better. Flask, stay put."

Eve gives a laugh at that suggestion, though it sounds a bit nervous, considering the back drop of the evening is slightly panicked Viper chatter. "My ankles aren't swollen yet. At least I hope not. I'm just about six…" Her gaze flips to the wireless again. "Six weeks along." Still, she wiggles out of her boots, bending to tug at the laces until her tootsies are free and she eases to sit sideways on the couch. "You know, they say when you're further along, that a good foot rub can send you into contractions."

[Tac1] "Flask" Orion says, "Holding, Jailhouse."
[Tac1] "Tempo" Dynames says, "*sigh* Well, I'm out of ideas."

Greje hands back the tea once Eve is settled, and eases back onto her corner. She doesn't seem that worried, but, then, she assumes that viper chatter always sounds something like this. "Not to come off all nosy, but… do you have someone to give you that extra-good foot rub when the time comes?" She sounds a little concerned.

[Tac1] "Jammer" Jocasta says, "Jailhouse, Jammer. Reading's confirmed. Engaging in ess and arr."
[Tac1] "Jailhouse" Micah says, "CIC, Jailhouse, we've encountered a micrometeorite storm enroute to the planet, Tempo's lost power. Confirmed positive on tyllium readings, though Tempo's lost power and is adrift."
[Tac1] "Wrongway" Rue says, "Jailhouse, CIC. Understood. You doing a rescue?"
[Tac1] Kalypso says, "CIC, Leto. Moving in for ess and arr on Tempo."
[Tac1] "Jailhouse" Micah says, "Confirmed, CIC. We have another storm incoming in roughly one point five minutes."
[Tac1] "Tempo" Dynames says, "*little more anxious* How's my heading, Jammer? *under her breath* Please, tell me I'm not coasting into big red's gravity well…."
[Tac1] "Wrongway" Rue says, "I'm putting a Raptor team here on alert, regardless. In case things get sticky."
[Tac1] "Jailhouse" Micah says, "Copy, CIC."
[Tac1] "Scorch" Bayless says, "Tempo, Scorch. We're coming in to haul you home, stand by."

Evelyn's mouth goes all askew, "Well, er.." Now that the cup is back in her hands, both palms press against the mug, leeching warmth from it. "No, I don't…really suppose I do. Not anymore." Her eyes go wide with worry to the wireless, her mouth occupied now with taking a sip of the tea. "Its sort of like the soaps my mother used to watch back home, you know? The…CAP, I mean." Not her own situation, nope.

[Tac1] "Tempo" Dynames says, "Copy that, standing by."
[Tac1] Kalypso says, "Tempo, Leto. Tow cables are away. Ready to get back to the barn?"
[Tac1] "Jailhouse" Micah says, "What's our ETA on that storm, Jammer?"

"The… Cap? Oh, the wireless?" Greje presumes, looking over to it. "It sounds like they've got everything under control. They're a good bunch. On the ball," she nods her head, looking a little sleepy, but confident that nothing will go horribly wrong. Either that or so much has already gone horribly wrong that she figures there's no sense worrying about the next thing to go horribly wrong. She looks back to Eve, "I'm sorry for that. That's got to be a burden hard to bear, on top of a lot of other burden you've got riding on you. If you ever need to talk about it… or want to talk about it… or just want some tea and an ugly orange couch to curl up on and hide from the rest of the ship… well, come by anytime," she offers gently.

[Tac1] "Tempo" Dynames says, "*nervous chuckle* If it's no trouble, Leto, be much obliged!"

Eve looks into the depths of her cup of tea, as if she can read the future there, or perhaps just lose herself in the swirling colors of brown for a moment. "That's terribly kind of you. Everyone's been terribly kind." She takes a deep breath, steeling her spine a bit. "But I've got good friends, and with that, I can certainly do just about anything. Even raise a child, or at least so I'm delusioning myself into thinking." Her smile is there, if a bit pinched. "And if you keep plying me with tea, I'm afraid you've got yourself a friend for life."

[Tac1] Kalypso Kalypso sighs with relief, "Meteors are in-coming. Tow cables are in place. Ready to bring her in."
[Tac1] Kalypso sighs with relief, "Meteors are in-coming. Tow cables are in place. Ready to bring her in."
[Tac1] "Jailhouse" Micah says, "Copy, Leto. Jus' keep it steady, we've got your back."

Greje nods quietly. "That's good. I'm glad you've got people. And I'd be glad to be more people for you," she adds, then shakes her head, realizing that barely made sense. "You know what I mean."

Eve smiles again, sliding her feet off the couch. "You're tired. And I'm being selfish. I should let you get some sleep. But this was…this was really nice. Thank you." She hefts the cup, still a good bit of amount in it. "Do you mind if I take this with me? I'll be sure to return the cup. And you know…if you ever need…well, my office is always open too. Though its not as quaint as this."

[Tac1] "Jammer" Jocasta says, "Incoming in ten… nine… eight…"

Greje smiles faintly, "Go ahead, I trust you. And I might take you up on that. My flock has taken to endeavoring to pick apart my problems while I'm trying to pick apart theirs. But I know you've got a lot of demands on your time," she wibbles indecisively, her mind wavering back and forth and going nowhere in particular.

Eve slides her feet into her boots, "Nonsense. It will be a nice change from all the marines and their stoic dispostions. Its a rarity for me to have an /actual/ conversation. Feel free anytime. And I mean that" Her voice is absolutely sincere in that fact. She's on her feet, her finger flipping off the wireless before Jocasta can get to one.

"I'll keep it in mind," Greje nods her head, subtly, but with power behind the affirmation, making it sound less like a brush-off and more like a sincere statement. "Have a good evening, Doctor," she adds with a soft smile. "And let me know how the tea does for your stomach."

It will probably do a fair sight more for her stomach than listening to the wireless will. "Thank you again, Chaplain." A deep breath, and Evelyn's heading towards the door. "I shall."

You head towards Hangar Bay B.

Hangar Bay B Genesis - Deck 7
56 ACH 23817 Souls

The hangar deck is where the Genesis' Viper squadron, and its Raptor detachment are stored, repaired and maintained between missions. Ships land on the flight deck, one level above, and are brought down via massive elevators. Tow vehicles move the ships around the deck, their shrill alert beeps causing an almost constant cacophony of noise. The floor itself is a light gray in color, but wear and tear has left marks and scratches everywhere. Numbered sections are marked off with paint to house the various spacecraft.
The place is surprisingly tidy, with tool chests, machine parts, diagnostic equipment, and even the occasional spare engine or chassis scattered all in their appropriate place. Stairs lead up to other parts of the ship. The fourth side has a large sliding door leading to the flight deck elevators. On the port wall, Vipers are loaded into the launch tubes to be catapulted into space. Raptors take off from the flight deck.

< Condition Three —- Duty Area >

Contents: Eve Charon_840 Cornbread_1623 Fender_211 FireEater_702
Maintenance Control NewDawn_1744 RAPTOR_215 Refugee_1123
Shorty_1742 Skunk_772 Sula_337 Whiteboard Wireless 1118

Exits: [AS] Aft Stairwell [FS] Fore Stairwell
[A] Hangar Bay A [E] Land. Deck Elevator
[LT] Launch Tubes [SH] Shuttle Transfer

RAPTOR_214 arrives from Grid Alpha.
RAPTOR_214 zooms by overhead.

Tempo_1741 arrives from Grid Alpha.
Tempo_1741 zooms by overhead.

Tempo_1741 comes in for a landing.

Flask_210 arrives from Grid Alpha.
Flask_210 zooms by overhead.

Nemamiah_109 arrives from Grid Alpha.
Nemamiah_109 zooms by overhead.

Nemamiah_109 comes in for a landing.

High above the deck, on one of the catwalks that ring the barn, is the form of the company Psyche. Evelyn's forearms rest on the top railing, a porcelein mug in her hands that has some absurd cartoon printed on the side. Blame the Chaplain for that one. She doesn't talk to anyone that passes, she just watches intently as the birds fly home. As the pilots filter out. Evelyn waits for one in particular, and when she finally spots him, she's slinking back and then she's gone.

You head towards Aft Stairwell.

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