What do you mean, Waking? I haven't slept for forty years!
Who: Cavil (open)
What: Cavil arrives in Nautilus and is suitably confused
Where: Western Gate
When: Afternoon
Warnings: None at the moment
He had been feeling... a little off lately. For some reason, this particular copy of the Ones had been experiencing some problems with his senses, moreso than usual that is. This went beyond the inherent weaknesses of the gooey spheres in his head or the limitations of the thin membranes in his skull that passed for auditory receptors. This was something wrong with processing sensory data. Everything around him- his fellow Cylons, the Colony, even the urgency of the crisis threatening the survival of his race- had taken on a faint, surreal tinge, as though he was Projecting involuntarily. If the Cavils hadn't removed their ability to dream decades ago, he would have called it a sort of waking nightmare. And, from what he remembered of nightmares, that was not a good sign at all.
He had been on his way to an appointment with a Number Four to see if the malfunction could be identified and corrected (no way to simply download into a new, healthier body anymore, thanks a bunch for that one Brothers and Sisters) when the Colony had begun to shudder and groan, alarms blaring and Centurions clanking through the halls as faint booms echoed throughout the immense structure. A Five had dashed past him, yelling something about the humans attacking. Cavil had been just about to make a witty remark about humans and their propensity for futile acts (and it would have been a good one) when he had heard a voice-
-and then he was here.
'Here' in this case was in front of a large double-doored Gate, beneath a red sky, with a strange city before him. He was used to abrupt transitions, like the instant teleportation of a Jump or the sudden shock of Resurrection, but this was just too much. He stammered, stared, stumbled, looked around wildly, and generally acted like the hatefully weak and fragile old man he'd been designed to resemble. And this was how Cavil came to Nautilus, confused, shocked, and filled with the terrible suspicion that the hatefully limited chunk of gray matter he had been granted to think and live with had finally failed him completely, and that he had gone mad and was currently drooling and twitching on the floor, about to be disposed of like the defective machine he had become.
"Hello?" He called uncertainly. "Hey! Hey, hello? Is anyone there? Preferably anyone who can tell me what the frak just happened to me?"
What: Cavil arrives in Nautilus and is suitably confused
Where: Western Gate
When: Afternoon
Warnings: None at the moment
He had been feeling... a little off lately. For some reason, this particular copy of the Ones had been experiencing some problems with his senses, moreso than usual that is. This went beyond the inherent weaknesses of the gooey spheres in his head or the limitations of the thin membranes in his skull that passed for auditory receptors. This was something wrong with processing sensory data. Everything around him- his fellow Cylons, the Colony, even the urgency of the crisis threatening the survival of his race- had taken on a faint, surreal tinge, as though he was Projecting involuntarily. If the Cavils hadn't removed their ability to dream decades ago, he would have called it a sort of waking nightmare. And, from what he remembered of nightmares, that was not a good sign at all.
He had been on his way to an appointment with a Number Four to see if the malfunction could be identified and corrected (no way to simply download into a new, healthier body anymore, thanks a bunch for that one Brothers and Sisters) when the Colony had begun to shudder and groan, alarms blaring and Centurions clanking through the halls as faint booms echoed throughout the immense structure. A Five had dashed past him, yelling something about the humans attacking. Cavil had been just about to make a witty remark about humans and their propensity for futile acts (and it would have been a good one) when he had heard a voice-
-and then he was here.
'Here' in this case was in front of a large double-doored Gate, beneath a red sky, with a strange city before him. He was used to abrupt transitions, like the instant teleportation of a Jump or the sudden shock of Resurrection, but this was just too much. He stammered, stared, stumbled, looked around wildly, and generally acted like the hatefully weak and fragile old man he'd been designed to resemble. And this was how Cavil came to Nautilus, confused, shocked, and filled with the terrible suspicion that the hatefully limited chunk of gray matter he had been granted to think and live with had finally failed him completely, and that he had gone mad and was currently drooling and twitching on the floor, about to be disposed of like the defective machine he had become.
"Hello?" He called uncertainly. "Hey! Hey, hello? Is anyone there? Preferably anyone who can tell me what the frak just happened to me?"