queenofheartsrp | six. [video]

[ Caprica has been back in the Gardens for four days now, without any contact with anyone except for Epsilon. The more time passes, the easier she finds it to keep her distance. Without other things to occupy her mind, however, it's more difficult to distract herself from thoughts of Gaius and D'Anna, or of Hera and what will happen to her on Galactica. A small part of her takes some strength, some clarity and focus from the pain, the bitterness and anger and guilt and worry. She is used to bearing a weight like this alone. The majority of her sibling Cylons would not understand, and no human in her world would want or care to understand. And in any case, it is solely hers to bear and she would not ask someone else to take it on.

The uncertainty, on the other hand, is wearing at her. Protecting Hera had been a certainty, something she had held to desperately in an instant of understanding that this was what God wanted from her, that the future of the Cylon race rested with one little girl. And if there is something Caprica has always wanted — despite everything — it has been to safeguard her people. Now that that has been taken away from her, she is left foundering in the lack of surety. Should she try to go back to the way things were before she left the Gardens, or try to continue to maintain her distance from the others? The women here, after all, have done her no wrong. But she still remembers her own words — I gave your people a chance, and for what? I'm a Cylon, Gaius. I lost sight of that. And the jagged wound in her heart is still fresh enough, the bitterness still deep enough. Love wasn't enough to bridge the gap.

The Vine seems to have its own ideas, however. Caprica is in the kitchen, having poured herself a full glass of ambrosia — she is quite resolutely avoiding the upstairs bedroom, which echoes with ghosts of old memories she wants to avoid even more than usual — when the plant sneaks across the floor and winds a tendril of itself rather forwardly around her wrist. She gasps a little, startled, and almost drops her glass. Her hands steady a moment later, and she regards the Vine briefly, considering. Then she lets out a breath and touches it gently with slim fingers, watching the mirror unfurl. It's a moment, as she turns the glass of alcohol between her fingers as if in thought, before she speaks. ]

The Queen must have seen fit to let me go home for a little while.

[ And that really is all she's going to say on that particular subject, her voice a little dry before she goes back to a more relaxed tone — a bit more distant than her usual, but not what one would call unfriendly. She keeps her eyes on the mirror when she speaks, despite every temptation to let the focus of her gaze go elsewhere. ]

I'm surprised this place is still here — the house. That it didn't disappear.

[ It might have been easier if it had; she wouldn't have recreated it. Caprica moves away from the kitchen proper to the dining table, sits down in one of the high-backed chairs, settling her ambrosia on the table with a clink of glass on glass. ]

I suppose it's become part of the Gardens in its own way.

[ There are things that a considerable part of her would very much like to do, like apologize, or ask after Jackie and Dominique. She is very careful not to do either one. Her expression is carefully reserved; only someone who knows her would recognize the sea of emotion roiling underneath that fine veneer of polite detachment. ]

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[Dominique frowns, slightly. She hadn't intended to cause Caprica any more pain, could already tell the woman was troubled over something. Unsure on whether to press, if Caprica wishes to discuss it, or avoid the topic, decides on,]

There are others here who have said similar.

[And she might have agreed, had she still lived in the South. But the issue was still one of control - she had know the South her entire life, knew what to watch for, how to fight. The Gardens offered no certainty, gave no answers or motivation towards their being here. Better the devil you know, and she had never truly experienced such an example before.]

[ It isn't as if it is Dominique's fault Caprica is hurting, and there are many things right now that are unpleasant reminders. The emptiness of the house is just one more thing on top of a pile of other issues. ]

There's a war, at home.

[ That... explains at least part of what's wrong without explaining details, she thinks. War has a number of side effects, all of them distressing. Those are absent in the Gardens. In her own world she is a prisoner of war now. Not being stuck in a cell and constantly watched with veiled hatred and loathing is a welcome change, if nothing else. ]

[She hadn't expected that, and perhaps it shows on her face, slightly. There are other soldiers here, she has spoken to some, but she hadn't thought Caprica had such a past. But there being a war does not make Caprica a soldier.]

It is the same, for me. Though I was away from it, already.

[With Jackie. There was still the possibility of terrorist attacks, in the North, but it was nothing like the situation in the South, and she had begun to build a very different life.]

[ One wouldn't guess simply from looking at her, but Caprica is a soldier. Then again, all her people became soldiers when the complete annihilation of the human race failed and an unexpected war happened instead. It's true she's never fought in a ground battle — they have the Centurions for that — but there are other, subtler forms of combat, and most of their fighting is done in space, at any rate.

At that comment, she finally does smile a little, though there's no warmth in it, and when she speaks again her voice is matter-of-fact. ]

It's not so easy as that.

[ Not so easy as that in her world, is what she means, although Dominique can probably infer that. All there is is war — that and the search for Earth, but to be honest she's unsure what will become of that now. ]

War never is.

[Dominique doesn't know much about the war on a grander scale, but she knows the rift that splits the world in two keeps the South nigh impenetrable. A stalemate, had been since before she was born, but she knew, no matter how far she ran, there was nowhere truly safe until it was over. Still wary over revealing her status as a witch, over sleeping with her back to the door, over trusting anyone with too much information too soon.

It was never easy, even if you'd supposedly left it behind.]

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