[day 46] evening, Athosian quarters - adoption ceremony, attn: Everyone! [f]

[athosianhalling]

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[dr_reichstadt]

Christoph had been a part of similar ceremonies before, but never on another planet. He had collected a handful of 'citizenships' from African and South American tribes, primarily, and while it might seem trivial at this point, a means to gain the tribe's confidence, he still thought of them all, and wished them well.

This time there seemed to be a more pressing sense of permanency to this adoption. He didn't have plane tickets in his backpack to take him back to Europe. He didn't have a paper to write, or at least not a deadline to write it by. Anthropology has been a passion of his, but not as much at the mystery of language itself. As a child, one of his favourite games was to pick a random word, trace its origins back to the earliest known, then back up until it became part of an entirely different language. Take beer, for example. Beer, bier, birra, come from the Latin bibere, to drink. And yet the Spanish cerveza has its roots in Ceres, the harvest goddess. What does that say about the Celtiberians?

But before we get too lost in the workings of Christoph's mind, it's of note that the Athosians intrigue him. Their culture is something that Christoph is still trying to pin down and properly categorise, and the fact that they speak perfect English has disrupted his long-held conventions about language enough to force him back to square one in his post-grad thesis which earned him his Ph.D. He'd pondered, briefly, removing the letters from the end of his name, since apparently he doesn't deserve them after all.

He doesn't hold that against the Athosians, of course. This is merely another mystery of language which he's eager to solve. He can play Find the Root again. It'll give his life purpose.

Though what nobler purpose than just being here? Breaking new ground, despite all the adversity that he's encountered so far? He still can't believe what's happened, and that he's missed most of it while stranded on that planet. He'd tried to dial the gate many times. He'd tried seeing if they could planet-hop their way around the galaxy and back to Atlantis. Nothing had worked.

He could be kind of an optimistic fatalist. He'd resigned himself to his fate and began to plot how to best take advantage of it. He'd almost gone native then. Luckily help came quickly enough and now he's back to the original plan of going native with the Athosians.

Let's see how long they can put up with him. He's left his uniform behind for some casual clothing, old comfortable jeans and a shirt given to him by an Athosian friend. He has to admit, he likes the Athosians; they lead a very straightforward way of life, and Christoph likes that. He may like bullshit for its entertainment value, but not as the cornerstone of daily life. He reached the designated area and spotted Halling, who tended to tower over everyone around him to begin with. He walked straight towards him, smiling, intending to greet the leader first of all.