Farscape fic: Symbols
Title: Symbols
Rating: G
Word count: ~950
Beta: scapeartist
Spoilers: for Terra Firma
Author's note: months later, she gets another "drabble" done for the drabble meme! \o/ :P This one was prompted by malana, who wanted John to explain to Chiana about Christmas.
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Chiana flopped down onto the couch beside John and he drew her up against his side. Leaning into him, she rested her head against his chest and he blew a fluff of white hair away from his lips. The bright red and green of a Hallmark ornament stood out sharply against the whiteness of her fingers.
“’s up, Pip?” he asked, his attention drifting over to Olivia, who stood on a step ladder beside the Crichton family Christmas tree, draping tinsel, hanging balls and bells and an eclectic mix of store-bought and homemade ornaments. She and Jack had finished putting the lights on the tree just a few minutes before and Jack had announced the need for some Wassail. From the kitchen, the sounds of whistling and the rattle of pots and pans rose above the Christmas tunes playing on the stereo.
Chiana shifted a bit so she could look up at John, but still remain in maximum physical contact. “So tell me about him,” and she held up the ornament in her hand, “the Creesmahss fat man.” The last few words were more or less in English.
John grinned, his chin resting on the top of her head. “The Christmas Fat Man. That’s a new one.” His eyes met Olivia’s and she shook her head, grinning as she hung another shiny glass ball on the tree. “What do you want to know?”
“He doesn’t look like much. Is he dangerous?”
“Dangerous?”
A quick movement and she sat facing him on the couch, her head tilted at what would have been an uncomfortable angle for a human. “Yeah. Dangerous. There were so many people at the… the… the mall?” John nodded and she continued, “They were all lined up to show him their narls. They talked about… about some kind of reward, or maybe it was punishment.”
He blinked at her, asked his sister, “Livvy? Santa was at the mall this afternoon?” John felt genuine laughter well up inside, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, but he choked it down; he didn’t want to make Chiana think he was laughing at her, especially not when she had a knee so close to certain parts of his anatomy.
“Yeah, lots of kids were getting their pictures taken with the Christmas Fat Man.”
Chiana’s eyes narrowed as she looked from John to Olivia and back at John. Shrugging, she shifted again, pressed herself into the back of the couch and pulled her legs up into a pretzel-like position. She began to toss the ornament up in the air with one hand, catching it with the other, over and over as she thought about what she’d seen. “It was like they were… asking for some kind of approval?” The ornament went higher with each toss; John hoped it wasn’t fragile.
“But other times, other times they seemed to be making demands.” Another quick movement, an impish glance from the Nebari girl, and the ornament sailed at John’s face. He barely caught it in time. “So I don’t get it. What’s… what’s the deal with this guy? Is he some kind of god,” her black eyes widened and she waggled her brows at him, clearly not serious about the question, “or something?”
John rubbed at his eyes with his free hand for a second, turned the bright little ornament over and over in his other, considering just what to tell her. “Well,” he began with a lop-sided grin, “he isn’t a god, but he kinda represents one.”
Chiana blinked once slowly then reached out to retrieve her toy. She lifted the Santa figurine and looked closely at it, then met John’s gaze with narrowed eyes. “Seriously? A god?”
“Same one you worship, Pip. The God of Money.”
She stared at him for a second and then shrugged, grinning. “I don’t worship money, Old Man. I just… I just really enjoy its company.”
Olivia laughed. “I think what John is saying is that Santa Claus there,” she gestured toward the ornament Chiana held before she reached up to clip a brightly colored and feathered glass bird to a branch, “has come to represent rampant commercialism.” The Nebari cocked her head, listening and watching, but still twisting the figurine this way and that between her fingers. “What we saw at the mall today was all just window dressing.”
“Window dressing?” Chiana asked, bemused.
“Yeah, it’s… Well, it’s symbolism. People go out and buy gifts for the people they care for. The gifts and their shiny, pretty wrappings are symbols of their love for the person the gifts are for.”
“So the people who own the… the shops profit from this… this… this symbolism?”
“Yes.” Olivia stepped down from the ladder and took a glittering bell from the box on the coffee table.
“And this is… is how this little guy, this San-ta Klawz,” Chiana held up the ornament, her tongue tripping a bit over the unfamiliar words, “represents the god of money.” A slow smile spread across her face and abruptly she jumped up from the couch. She bopped over to the tree and snagged several strands of shiny silver tinsel and wrapped them around and around the little Santa Claus in her hand, tying them into several floppy bows.
“What are you doing, Pip?” John asked and was rewarded with a bright grin.
Holding up the ornament, Chiana tweaked her bits of decoration, making a bow more loose here, a little tighter there, and then she brought it back over to show John her handiwork. “Don’t you think he looks a little… a little like Ryg?”
“Ha! Yeah, he does at that.”
“Rygel!” she shouted, rounding the couch and heading toward the kitchen. “I have something for you!”
Rating: G
Word count: ~950
Beta: scapeartist
Spoilers: for Terra Firma
Author's note: months later, she gets another "drabble" done for the drabble meme! \o/ :P This one was prompted by malana, who wanted John to explain to Chiana about Christmas.
---------------------
Chiana flopped down onto the couch beside John and he drew her up against his side. Leaning into him, she rested her head against his chest and he blew a fluff of white hair away from his lips. The bright red and green of a Hallmark ornament stood out sharply against the whiteness of her fingers.
“’s up, Pip?” he asked, his attention drifting over to Olivia, who stood on a step ladder beside the Crichton family Christmas tree, draping tinsel, hanging balls and bells and an eclectic mix of store-bought and homemade ornaments. She and Jack had finished putting the lights on the tree just a few minutes before and Jack had announced the need for some Wassail. From the kitchen, the sounds of whistling and the rattle of pots and pans rose above the Christmas tunes playing on the stereo.
Chiana shifted a bit so she could look up at John, but still remain in maximum physical contact. “So tell me about him,” and she held up the ornament in her hand, “the Creesmahss fat man.” The last few words were more or less in English.
John grinned, his chin resting on the top of her head. “The Christmas Fat Man. That’s a new one.” His eyes met Olivia’s and she shook her head, grinning as she hung another shiny glass ball on the tree. “What do you want to know?”
“He doesn’t look like much. Is he dangerous?”
“Dangerous?”
A quick movement and she sat facing him on the couch, her head tilted at what would have been an uncomfortable angle for a human. “Yeah. Dangerous. There were so many people at the… the… the mall?” John nodded and she continued, “They were all lined up to show him their narls. They talked about… about some kind of reward, or maybe it was punishment.”
He blinked at her, asked his sister, “Livvy? Santa was at the mall this afternoon?” John felt genuine laughter well up inside, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, but he choked it down; he didn’t want to make Chiana think he was laughing at her, especially not when she had a knee so close to certain parts of his anatomy.
“Yeah, lots of kids were getting their pictures taken with the Christmas Fat Man.”
Chiana’s eyes narrowed as she looked from John to Olivia and back at John. Shrugging, she shifted again, pressed herself into the back of the couch and pulled her legs up into a pretzel-like position. She began to toss the ornament up in the air with one hand, catching it with the other, over and over as she thought about what she’d seen. “It was like they were… asking for some kind of approval?” The ornament went higher with each toss; John hoped it wasn’t fragile.
“But other times, other times they seemed to be making demands.” Another quick movement, an impish glance from the Nebari girl, and the ornament sailed at John’s face. He barely caught it in time. “So I don’t get it. What’s… what’s the deal with this guy? Is he some kind of god,” her black eyes widened and she waggled her brows at him, clearly not serious about the question, “or something?”
John rubbed at his eyes with his free hand for a second, turned the bright little ornament over and over in his other, considering just what to tell her. “Well,” he began with a lop-sided grin, “he isn’t a god, but he kinda represents one.”
Chiana blinked once slowly then reached out to retrieve her toy. She lifted the Santa figurine and looked closely at it, then met John’s gaze with narrowed eyes. “Seriously? A god?”
“Same one you worship, Pip. The God of Money.”
She stared at him for a second and then shrugged, grinning. “I don’t worship money, Old Man. I just… I just really enjoy its company.”
Olivia laughed. “I think what John is saying is that Santa Claus there,” she gestured toward the ornament Chiana held before she reached up to clip a brightly colored and feathered glass bird to a branch, “has come to represent rampant commercialism.” The Nebari cocked her head, listening and watching, but still twisting the figurine this way and that between her fingers. “What we saw at the mall today was all just window dressing.”
“Window dressing?” Chiana asked, bemused.
“Yeah, it’s… Well, it’s symbolism. People go out and buy gifts for the people they care for. The gifts and their shiny, pretty wrappings are symbols of their love for the person the gifts are for.”
“So the people who own the… the shops profit from this… this… this symbolism?”
“Yes.” Olivia stepped down from the ladder and took a glittering bell from the box on the coffee table.
“And this is… is how this little guy, this San-ta Klawz,” Chiana held up the ornament, her tongue tripping a bit over the unfamiliar words, “represents the god of money.” A slow smile spread across her face and abruptly she jumped up from the couch. She bopped over to the tree and snagged several strands of shiny silver tinsel and wrapped them around and around the little Santa Claus in her hand, tying them into several floppy bows.
“What are you doing, Pip?” John asked and was rewarded with a bright grin.
Holding up the ornament, Chiana tweaked her bits of decoration, making a bow more loose here, a little tighter there, and then she brought it back over to show John her handiwork. “Don’t you think he looks a little… a little like Ryg?”
“Ha! Yeah, he does at that.”
“Rygel!” she shouted, rounding the couch and heading toward the kitchen. “I have something for you!”