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282 - Talk about funeral arrangements.
May. 19th, 2009 12:38 pmI didn't get to see her. I didn't get to hold her.
That's not true; I got to hold her for a moment, just her hand and Karl was there, right there with me. But then Doc Cottle told us the news; Hera, my daughter, was dead. I didn't pay attention as to the hows or whys. I just wanted her back, somehow.
Chief and Helo got to take her. Ashes, nothing but ashes, and they scattered them into the stars while I was still a prisoner and trapped. A mother who had lost a daughter, and I couldn't even be there for the small, tiny ceremony that the two men who gave a frak about me got to do for her.
I asked Chief later, just to be sure, if it had been Hera. That Three model had messed me up, playing with my mind by telling me that Hera was still alive; how would she know, though? Why would she bother to tell me? Still, it was enough that I had to be sure, and... Chief told me. He saw the ashes. He saw Hera.
I never did. I sat, alone and in tears, in the cell. I couldn't even die myself to be with her, because Cylons don't die. We resurrect, over and over into new bodies retaining the knowledge of the old one. I'll never die, and yet my daughter did.
I wish it was the other way around.
Muse: Sharon Agathon, née Valerii
Fandom: Misc. TV/"Battlestar Galactica"
Word Count: 243
OOC: This prompt reply takes place before the destruction of The Hub and before the discovery that Hera is still alive.
That's not true; I got to hold her for a moment, just her hand and Karl was there, right there with me. But then Doc Cottle told us the news; Hera, my daughter, was dead. I didn't pay attention as to the hows or whys. I just wanted her back, somehow.
Chief and Helo got to take her. Ashes, nothing but ashes, and they scattered them into the stars while I was still a prisoner and trapped. A mother who had lost a daughter, and I couldn't even be there for the small, tiny ceremony that the two men who gave a frak about me got to do for her.
I asked Chief later, just to be sure, if it had been Hera. That Three model had messed me up, playing with my mind by telling me that Hera was still alive; how would she know, though? Why would she bother to tell me? Still, it was enough that I had to be sure, and... Chief told me. He saw the ashes. He saw Hera.
I never did. I sat, alone and in tears, in the cell. I couldn't even die myself to be with her, because Cylons don't die. We resurrect, over and over into new bodies retaining the knowledge of the old one. I'll never die, and yet my daughter did.
I wish it was the other way around.
Muse: Sharon Agathon, née Valerii
Fandom: Misc. TV/"Battlestar Galactica"
Word Count: 243
OOC: This prompt reply takes place before the destruction of The Hub and before the discovery that Hera is still alive.
