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Rewatched the Battlestar Galactica mini...
And while they were obviously trying to plan for long term, there are... still bits that make me go, "um, mis-match between mini and season one, guys." But *shrug* whatever.
In the meantime, can I *please* have a Kara Thrace of my very own?
And, two random drabbles.
From the hangar deck, right after Tyrol tells Starbuck about Apollo....
They are stripping away everything that matters. Family, friends, home. Lovers. Colleagues. Prosner. Apollo. Sharon. Cally stands on the deck and watches Tyrol throttle everything down. Back to work, he snaps.
Back to work. Where you can forget, for a short time, that the Cylons have destroyed everything.
Where she can bury her grief and the stench of burnt skin, and the ice-cold vacuum of space in mechanical theory, moving parts that she understands like the back of her hand.
Later, they can grieve, later, she can wonder at the beautiful logic that has left her people destitute and homeless.
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Adama's quarters, I think, after Leoben.
He smells like blood. Cloying, sweet, metallic and making his nostrils flare. Minutes (more like an hour) ago, he bludgeoned what looked like a man to death. A young man, who might have been useful. The blood flew up, hot and already cooling as it sprayed him.
Cylons don't have souls, he reminds himself.
And there are better things to think of. Like his son, who's alive.
The dirt and ash still coat his skin, but they wiped most of the blood away. He can still smell it, as he grabs onto his son. And believes in the Gods again.
In the meantime, can I *please* have a Kara Thrace of my very own?
And, two random drabbles.
From the hangar deck, right after Tyrol tells Starbuck about Apollo....
They are stripping away everything that matters. Family, friends, home. Lovers. Colleagues. Prosner. Apollo. Sharon. Cally stands on the deck and watches Tyrol throttle everything down. Back to work, he snaps.
Back to work. Where you can forget, for a short time, that the Cylons have destroyed everything.
Where she can bury her grief and the stench of burnt skin, and the ice-cold vacuum of space in mechanical theory, moving parts that she understands like the back of her hand.
Later, they can grieve, later, she can wonder at the beautiful logic that has left her people destitute and homeless.
=-=-
Adama's quarters, I think, after Leoben.
He smells like blood. Cloying, sweet, metallic and making his nostrils flare. Minutes (more like an hour) ago, he bludgeoned what looked like a man to death. A young man, who might have been useful. The blood flew up, hot and already cooling as it sprayed him.
Cylons don't have souls, he reminds himself.
And there are better things to think of. Like his son, who's alive.
The dirt and ash still coat his skin, but they wiped most of the blood away. He can still smell it, as he grabs onto his son. And believes in the Gods again.
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And, sadly, I think that if you want a Starbuck you're going to have to share her with a whole lot of people. She seems to be very popular.
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Yes. Because she is the hot, man.
Unfortunately, I have to share Lee (and his biceps) with a lot of people also. *sad*
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*sighs* Pity. Maybe we should clone her. Hrm. Where's Mr. Sinister when you actually *want* him?
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Mmmmmmmmmm Kara. Sadly enough, Sam is not into sharing. *sighs*
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Pity, that.
*is transfixed by icon*
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Hah! Bad school computer.
*steals Starbuck and runs off*
er...
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That second one just blows my mind. I forget the instance of the first one, though, so will probably have to watch the mini-series again at some point...
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And, at that point, they were stripping everyone away. Whether by fate or purpose.
*g* Thank you.