Some.... Writing?
In the midst of a struggle to finish writing my remix fic... *cries*, I found this little hand-written drabble on a crinkled, on verge of crumpling to nothingness, so... it's bad. I didn't really clean it up at all (except for where my writing was illegible), so it's most likely VERY bad. ><"
Title: Too Many Questions
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Genre: Gen/Introspection
Rating: K
Word Count: 354
Spoilers: Assume everything.
Characters/Pairings: John Cavil and D'Anna/none
A/N: Why was D’Anna the only one left?
Cavil had always kept a closer eye on the Threes than the others. They were more… inquisitive… skeptical. Always needing to “interrogate” everything. Needing to know, to search - not to blindly trust. They needed the closer minding.
Sad really - their intelligence could have been useful, an asset to the plan and cause. Instead - one personality matrix after the next had to be boxed for asking just a bit too much, for taking a step too far.
The original banishment of the “final five” from the collective memory (except for his own of course) had been due to the threes’ persistence and curiosity. She had almost ruined everything with her questioning, with her need to figure out where their creators, their parents had gone. She had begun to suspect him. Even the banishment of those memories and knowledge hadn’t been a permanent fix though. The threes could be counted on to eventually wonder aloud why their creators, their “God” had chosen to number them so strangely - seven models with no “seven” - jumping from six to eight.
Murder was frowned upon. (Again, a twinge of bitterness against his “mother” arises. A perfect machine wouldn’t care. Perfect machines would know without feeling. They would be perfect.) Even his siblings would rebel if they discovered it. Maybe not if he had enough time to talk them over to his side, enough time to convince them, but all the same…
Cavil had thought that he had finally gotten it just right with D’Anna - not knowing that she had simply been just that little bit more intelligent than those around her, before her. Intelligent enough to keep her observations and knowledge and questions to herself, to hoard her secrets and protect them as old dragons would. (Like why her “identity” seemed to be the only one of her line when the others seemed to have such a larger variety, a larger number. Except Cavil, but then again, Cavil was always an odd one.)
The infiltration job as a colonial journalist had been a godsend - allowing her to pursue, interrogate, know and manipulate as much as she wanted - among the humans.
Title: Too Many Questions
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Genre: Gen/Introspection
Rating: K
Word Count: 354
Spoilers: Assume everything.
Characters/Pairings: John Cavil and D'Anna/none
A/N: Why was D’Anna the only one left?
Cavil had always kept a closer eye on the Threes than the others. They were more… inquisitive… skeptical. Always needing to “interrogate” everything. Needing to know, to search - not to blindly trust. They needed the closer minding.
Sad really - their intelligence could have been useful, an asset to the plan and cause. Instead - one personality matrix after the next had to be boxed for asking just a bit too much, for taking a step too far.
The original banishment of the “final five” from the collective memory (except for his own of course) had been due to the threes’ persistence and curiosity. She had almost ruined everything with her questioning, with her need to figure out where their creators, their parents had gone. She had begun to suspect him. Even the banishment of those memories and knowledge hadn’t been a permanent fix though. The threes could be counted on to eventually wonder aloud why their creators, their “God” had chosen to number them so strangely - seven models with no “seven” - jumping from six to eight.
Murder was frowned upon. (Again, a twinge of bitterness against his “mother” arises. A perfect machine wouldn’t care. Perfect machines would know without feeling. They would be perfect.) Even his siblings would rebel if they discovered it. Maybe not if he had enough time to talk them over to his side, enough time to convince them, but all the same…
Cavil had thought that he had finally gotten it just right with D’Anna - not knowing that she had simply been just that little bit more intelligent than those around her, before her. Intelligent enough to keep her observations and knowledge and questions to herself, to hoard her secrets and protect them as old dragons would. (Like why her “identity” seemed to be the only one of her line when the others seemed to have such a larger variety, a larger number. Except Cavil, but then again, Cavil was always an odd one.)
The infiltration job as a colonial journalist had been a godsend - allowing her to pursue, interrogate, know and manipulate as much as she wanted - among the humans.