beloved's objects
All the days had been the same when he had been suffering. He took a shower because that's what he did. He exercised but mostly he just bashed his hands into the kicking board, biting his lip so hard he bled. Then for a change of pace, he tried soaking his head in the stream near the waterfall. Holding himself under until the last second and then gasping for air.
But he had started to confess his terrible sins. Including the one that weighed the most heavily upon him. The sin of existing. Today, the need to be fixed or die had faded somewhat. It was still there but it was a more muted emotion, grey and quiet instead of red, raw, and bleeding. He thought maybe God was like that too. Just farther away. Neutral and sated. Numb.
Kara had forgiven him. Six has said they needed a miracle and now they had Sharon.
So he'd live. There was work he would do, work for the new life on its way that he didn't think he deserved to be apart of but he wanted so badly to be worthy of. His hands still ached so he simply wandered around the compound. He ended up in the rec room which was empty and moved a couch to the back of the room so he could try to meditate and pray. It was too hot outside.
It was easier to pray when he didn't expect anyone to listen. Prayer was all about intention, manifesting your will, remembering what you wanted and couldn't leave behind. He wasn't sure who he was directing his prayers to but he hoped whoever it was was listening even if the only one who could hear them was his own foolish self.
He found some small peace of mind and after a long time, he sat up slightly and looked down at the floor. And oddly enough... There were the two little statues lying there. The Gods of Kobol? This is what he was given? Someone else's shit?
He eyed the figures coldly and then gingerly picked them up. No. Not someone else's shit. Someone else's faith. Someone else's precious bits of metals or whatever the frak they were made from. He'd never owned anything... But Starbuck had. And if she'd prayed, who would she pray to?
Leoben let out a weary, bitter sound that fought to become laughter but mostly settled for becoming a choked up sob. At the compound. At this island. At his sorry-ass excuse for possessions that he held tightly in his hands, resting his fingers against the small grooves in their sides presumably from where Kara had clutched at them feverently.
"Does it ever stop?" He asked them since no one else answered and nothing else felt so real as they did. "Do you ever get what it is you want from me?"
[ooc: Open to anyone, particularly those who keep wanting to talk to him. Regretably this is about as happy as he seems to plan on getting for the present moment.]
But he had started to confess his terrible sins. Including the one that weighed the most heavily upon him. The sin of existing. Today, the need to be fixed or die had faded somewhat. It was still there but it was a more muted emotion, grey and quiet instead of red, raw, and bleeding. He thought maybe God was like that too. Just farther away. Neutral and sated. Numb.
Kara had forgiven him. Six has said they needed a miracle and now they had Sharon.
So he'd live. There was work he would do, work for the new life on its way that he didn't think he deserved to be apart of but he wanted so badly to be worthy of. His hands still ached so he simply wandered around the compound. He ended up in the rec room which was empty and moved a couch to the back of the room so he could try to meditate and pray. It was too hot outside.
It was easier to pray when he didn't expect anyone to listen. Prayer was all about intention, manifesting your will, remembering what you wanted and couldn't leave behind. He wasn't sure who he was directing his prayers to but he hoped whoever it was was listening even if the only one who could hear them was his own foolish self.
He found some small peace of mind and after a long time, he sat up slightly and looked down at the floor. And oddly enough... There were the two little statues lying there. The Gods of Kobol? This is what he was given? Someone else's shit?
He eyed the figures coldly and then gingerly picked them up. No. Not someone else's shit. Someone else's faith. Someone else's precious bits of metals or whatever the frak they were made from. He'd never owned anything... But Starbuck had. And if she'd prayed, who would she pray to?
Leoben let out a weary, bitter sound that fought to become laughter but mostly settled for becoming a choked up sob. At the compound. At this island. At his sorry-ass excuse for possessions that he held tightly in his hands, resting his fingers against the small grooves in their sides presumably from where Kara had clutched at them feverently.
"Does it ever stop?" He asked them since no one else answered and nothing else felt so real as they did. "Do you ever get what it is you want from me?"
[ooc: Open to anyone, particularly those who keep wanting to talk to him. Regretably this is about as happy as he seems to plan on getting for the present moment.]