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dizzy_land2006-10-05 11:18 am
a-good-man.livejournal.com) wrote in dizzy_land2006-10-05 11:18 am
Application for Doctor Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG-1)
‘Behind, through the low, shingled front gates, there is nothing. Not mist, or darkness. Just...nothing.’
And then, suddenly, there is something. A large something that very much resembles a splash of water, save for the fact that it shoots out horizontally instead of splashing upwards. Almost immediately it recedes back into the nothing, leaving behind what looks like a gently shimmering vertical pool.
With a noise not unlike pulling something out of mud the pool disgorges a man onto the street just inside the gate. He is dressed in a green and black uniform that says ‘military’ very clearly, even to those unfamiliar with the United States Army/Airforce circa the late 1990’s, and he carries a very large, heavy-looking black pack and a strange looking crooked gun in a holster on his leg. Despite his garb, however, his appearance does not really say ‘soldier’- perhaps because of the glasses on his nose or the way his hands move in enthusiastic punctuation as he speaks. He was already in mid-sentence when he stepped out of the pool.
“… and of course you can see the implications of that. I mean, it’s not really my area of expertise, I do wish I could have had more time for research, and Jack, I really think that we need to get an expert on Sarmatian culture; we don’t have any one at the base right now with more than a preliminary understanding of the Sarmatians or the Marcomanni prior to the barbarization of the late Roman army…”
Daniel stops suddenly and looks around. Then he turns and looks behind him, seeing only the rippling event horizon, sitting in space without benefit of a ring or any other device to hold it in place. There is a gate behind it, but it is the ordinary, earth kind with hinges, not the Stargate.
Even as he watches the wormhole closes, leaving him staring at nothing. He blinks.
“Jack?” he says quietly, his voice catching a bit in his throat. He clears it and tries again, louder. “Jack? Sam? Teal’c?”
There is no answer. He is alone.
Daniel turns back around, his eyebrows doing an uncertain little dance as he looks at the face created by the flowers and buildings beyond it. He recognizes this place.
“Dorothy,” he says softly, “This is definitely not P3X587.” Unless it is P3X587, and his mind, or something else, is playing tricks on him. He takes off his glasses and rubs them on his shirt, then puts them back on and looks around. Nothing has changed.
The original of the smiling face comes bustling up, wearing huge, yellow shoes and red shorts with two large white buttons. He's beaming. "Ha-hi there! I'm Mickey. Gosh, it's great to meet you!" He holds out one spotless white glove, to be shaken. "Welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth!"
Daniel stares. Mickey Mouse. He is looking at Mickey Mouse, and it’s not some person in a costume either; this is the actual cartoon brought to life (and life-size) right in front of his eyes.
He's mad, you know," comes a voice from a nearby tree. "So am I, of course." It belongs to a large cat, which has seemingly materialized to peer down interestedly at the new arrival, with a wide grin showing rather a lot of sharp teeth.
"That's the Cheshire Cat," explains Mickey cheerfully. "Funny fella, but," he switches to a bad stage whisper, "kinda strange sometimes."
"We're all mad here," the Cat goes on, conversationally. "I'm mad. He's mad. You must be mad, or you wouldn't have come here."
“Oh God.” Daniel isn’t sure if he says it out loud or not. He’s feeling slightly panicky and he makes himself take two deep breaths and swallow carefully.
This isn’t Machello, he tells himself firmly. Those hallucinations had all been at least somewhat situated in his actual surroundings; he’d seen wormholes in his closet and corpses coming through the gate but he hadn’t ever thought himself to be anywhere else then where he actually was. Besides, Machello’s device is gone- it went into Teal’c and they used Sam’s blood to save him.* It’s okay. He isn’t crazy anymore.
He’d never been crazy.
Maybe he’s been captured. Perhaps this is some sort of virtual reality, like the Keeper’s, or an elaborate hoax like the one Hathor had tried to use on his team not long ago. Daniel doesn’t know what to think.
His attention returns to Mickey Mouse just as the cartoon-brought-to-life says something about asking him questions.
Mickey coughs theatrically. "What is your name?"
“Uh…” Jack would tell him not to say anything, maybe, but Daniel doesn’t work like that. “I’m, um… I’m Doctor Daniel Jackson. We… er, I am an explorer.” He wants to add ‘from the planet Earth’ but doesn’t. Given where he currently appears to be standing, it seems too ridiculous.
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
Daniel jumps.
“My quest? Well, to learn. About…” this place, wherever it was, “people. Other cultures, other civilizations. To share knowledge.”
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
Daniel balks at this one- it’s too much mind game for his taste.
“Look,” he says, “I don’t mean to be rude, but… where am I? I mean, this place looks like Disneyland…” Or is it Disney World? Or one of the other ones? Daniel doesn’t know much about theme parks. “And who are you? Where are my friends- the others who came with me? Are they here somewhere?”
He was the first one to step through the wormhole in the ‘Gateroom, but he knows that doesn’t mean anything. For all he knows this entire thing could be one big virtual reality. Or a dream.
Or a hallucination.
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
This one catches Daniel’s attention, distracting him from his own questions and his sudden, slightly hysterical impulse to correct the Cheshire Cat’sgrammar.
“Well, you know, the concept of a genie living in a lamp and giving only three wishes is a very limited Western viewpoint of the Islamic jinn. There’s more than one version of the Aladdin story, and the number of wishes granted actually varies. Anyway, the idea of controlling a jinn magically by binding it to an object is accurate but it’s only a very small portion of what the jinn are considered to be.
“The jinn are said to be creatures with free will,” he continues, warming to the subject, “made of smokeless fire by God much in the same way humans were made of the metaphorical clay. In fact, according to the majority of Islamic scholars, clear evidence exists in the Qur'an that the Devil was not an angel as is thought by Christians, but a jinn...”
He pauses, suddenly fancying he sees a slight glassiness in Mickey’s cartoon-bright eyes, and feeling very awkward he drops his head and mumbles, “I’d tell him to be grateful for what he has. I’d give a lot to have my three wishes come true.” He’s not saying what they are, though.
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
“Well, I um, I dunno,” Daniel says, equally bewildered. “What revolution? I mean, it would depend… Look, I don’t even know what planet I’m on. If you could just tell me what’s going on here… I swear, I mean you no any harm, like I said, I’m an explorer and…”
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
Daniel’s aware that the look on his face is probably a mix of extreme confusion and utter aggravation. “All three?” he says lamely.
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
“Look, I…” Daniel’s shoulders slump suddenly and he sighs and closes his eyes. “I like fairies,” he answers. “But I tend to think of them in terms of the more ancient idea, you know, the fae of Celtic mythology, before Shakespeare introduced the modern view of pixies as tiny winged people who live in flowers and stuff. And ninjas are pretty fascinating too, if we’re talking the traditional agents of espionage and assassination which served rulers in feudal Japan.” He pauses. “Well, I guess I’d have to say humans in there… I am an archeologists after all, it’s kinda my thing.” He opens his eyes and gives a weak grin. “So humans and ninjas, I guess.”
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
“Well, I have some tools,” Daniel says slowly. “For excavating. They’re not weapons or anything. I told you, I’m not here to harm anyone, I just want to learn about your culture, your people….” he pauses. “You know, I feel really, really ridiculous trying to explain all this to a cartoon mouse.”
((*Daniel was accidentally infected with a device designed to kill Goa’uld; since he was not a host at the time the device instead caused him to experience symptoms like those of schizophrenia. He was committed to an institution before he was able to convince his friends that he was not actually crazy.))
((Dr. Daniel Jackson from the TV series “Stargate SG-1”. He’s an archeologist/anthropologist/philologist working as a civilian consultant to the U.S. Airforce on a top-secret government project. The Stargate is a large metal ring, built by an ancient civilization of aliens, which creates a wormhole between the ‘gate on Earth and those settled on other planets, allowing interstellar travel between the two points in a matter of moments. Daniel serves on SG-1, a first contact team, working as a cultural expert and liaison between Earth and the many strange people they meet on the other side of the wormhole.
One type of alien that the team has encountered are the Goa’uld, a parasitic race which lives by taking over the body of a ‘host’ (humans being preferred over other species).
Stargate is currently in its tenth season, but I am taking Daniel from early season three, right after the episode “Legacy”. For more information, see the profile.))
((For those of you from NO, I play Shadow. Also, I’m really sorry this is so long))
And then, suddenly, there is something. A large something that very much resembles a splash of water, save for the fact that it shoots out horizontally instead of splashing upwards. Almost immediately it recedes back into the nothing, leaving behind what looks like a gently shimmering vertical pool.
With a noise not unlike pulling something out of mud the pool disgorges a man onto the street just inside the gate. He is dressed in a green and black uniform that says ‘military’ very clearly, even to those unfamiliar with the United States Army/Airforce circa the late 1990’s, and he carries a very large, heavy-looking black pack and a strange looking crooked gun in a holster on his leg. Despite his garb, however, his appearance does not really say ‘soldier’- perhaps because of the glasses on his nose or the way his hands move in enthusiastic punctuation as he speaks. He was already in mid-sentence when he stepped out of the pool.
“… and of course you can see the implications of that. I mean, it’s not really my area of expertise, I do wish I could have had more time for research, and Jack, I really think that we need to get an expert on Sarmatian culture; we don’t have any one at the base right now with more than a preliminary understanding of the Sarmatians or the Marcomanni prior to the barbarization of the late Roman army…”
Daniel stops suddenly and looks around. Then he turns and looks behind him, seeing only the rippling event horizon, sitting in space without benefit of a ring or any other device to hold it in place. There is a gate behind it, but it is the ordinary, earth kind with hinges, not the Stargate.
Even as he watches the wormhole closes, leaving him staring at nothing. He blinks.
“Jack?” he says quietly, his voice catching a bit in his throat. He clears it and tries again, louder. “Jack? Sam? Teal’c?”
There is no answer. He is alone.
Daniel turns back around, his eyebrows doing an uncertain little dance as he looks at the face created by the flowers and buildings beyond it. He recognizes this place.
“Dorothy,” he says softly, “This is definitely not P3X587.” Unless it is P3X587, and his mind, or something else, is playing tricks on him. He takes off his glasses and rubs them on his shirt, then puts them back on and looks around. Nothing has changed.
The original of the smiling face comes bustling up, wearing huge, yellow shoes and red shorts with two large white buttons. He's beaming. "Ha-hi there! I'm Mickey. Gosh, it's great to meet you!" He holds out one spotless white glove, to be shaken. "Welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth!"
Daniel stares. Mickey Mouse. He is looking at Mickey Mouse, and it’s not some person in a costume either; this is the actual cartoon brought to life (and life-size) right in front of his eyes.
He's mad, you know," comes a voice from a nearby tree. "So am I, of course." It belongs to a large cat, which has seemingly materialized to peer down interestedly at the new arrival, with a wide grin showing rather a lot of sharp teeth.
"That's the Cheshire Cat," explains Mickey cheerfully. "Funny fella, but," he switches to a bad stage whisper, "kinda strange sometimes."
"We're all mad here," the Cat goes on, conversationally. "I'm mad. He's mad. You must be mad, or you wouldn't have come here."
“Oh God.” Daniel isn’t sure if he says it out loud or not. He’s feeling slightly panicky and he makes himself take two deep breaths and swallow carefully.
This isn’t Machello, he tells himself firmly. Those hallucinations had all been at least somewhat situated in his actual surroundings; he’d seen wormholes in his closet and corpses coming through the gate but he hadn’t ever thought himself to be anywhere else then where he actually was. Besides, Machello’s device is gone- it went into Teal’c and they used Sam’s blood to save him.* It’s okay. He isn’t crazy anymore.
He’d never been crazy.
Maybe he’s been captured. Perhaps this is some sort of virtual reality, like the Keeper’s, or an elaborate hoax like the one Hathor had tried to use on his team not long ago. Daniel doesn’t know what to think.
His attention returns to Mickey Mouse just as the cartoon-brought-to-life says something about asking him questions.
Mickey coughs theatrically. "What is your name?"
“Uh…” Jack would tell him not to say anything, maybe, but Daniel doesn’t work like that. “I’m, um… I’m Doctor Daniel Jackson. We… er, I am an explorer.” He wants to add ‘from the planet Earth’ but doesn’t. Given where he currently appears to be standing, it seems too ridiculous.
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
Daniel jumps.
“My quest? Well, to learn. About…” this place, wherever it was, “people. Other cultures, other civilizations. To share knowledge.”
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
Daniel balks at this one- it’s too much mind game for his taste.
“Look,” he says, “I don’t mean to be rude, but… where am I? I mean, this place looks like Disneyland…” Or is it Disney World? Or one of the other ones? Daniel doesn’t know much about theme parks. “And who are you? Where are my friends- the others who came with me? Are they here somewhere?”
He was the first one to step through the wormhole in the ‘Gateroom, but he knows that doesn’t mean anything. For all he knows this entire thing could be one big virtual reality. Or a dream.
Or a hallucination.
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
This one catches Daniel’s attention, distracting him from his own questions and his sudden, slightly hysterical impulse to correct the Cheshire Cat’sgrammar.
“Well, you know, the concept of a genie living in a lamp and giving only three wishes is a very limited Western viewpoint of the Islamic jinn. There’s more than one version of the Aladdin story, and the number of wishes granted actually varies. Anyway, the idea of controlling a jinn magically by binding it to an object is accurate but it’s only a very small portion of what the jinn are considered to be.
“The jinn are said to be creatures with free will,” he continues, warming to the subject, “made of smokeless fire by God much in the same way humans were made of the metaphorical clay. In fact, according to the majority of Islamic scholars, clear evidence exists in the Qur'an that the Devil was not an angel as is thought by Christians, but a jinn...”
He pauses, suddenly fancying he sees a slight glassiness in Mickey’s cartoon-bright eyes, and feeling very awkward he drops his head and mumbles, “I’d tell him to be grateful for what he has. I’d give a lot to have my three wishes come true.” He’s not saying what they are, though.
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
“Well, I um, I dunno,” Daniel says, equally bewildered. “What revolution? I mean, it would depend… Look, I don’t even know what planet I’m on. If you could just tell me what’s going on here… I swear, I mean you no any harm, like I said, I’m an explorer and…”
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
Daniel’s aware that the look on his face is probably a mix of extreme confusion and utter aggravation. “All three?” he says lamely.
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
“Look, I…” Daniel’s shoulders slump suddenly and he sighs and closes his eyes. “I like fairies,” he answers. “But I tend to think of them in terms of the more ancient idea, you know, the fae of Celtic mythology, before Shakespeare introduced the modern view of pixies as tiny winged people who live in flowers and stuff. And ninjas are pretty fascinating too, if we’re talking the traditional agents of espionage and assassination which served rulers in feudal Japan.” He pauses. “Well, I guess I’d have to say humans in there… I am an archeologists after all, it’s kinda my thing.” He opens his eyes and gives a weak grin. “So humans and ninjas, I guess.”
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
“Well, I have some tools,” Daniel says slowly. “For excavating. They’re not weapons or anything. I told you, I’m not here to harm anyone, I just want to learn about your culture, your people….” he pauses. “You know, I feel really, really ridiculous trying to explain all this to a cartoon mouse.”
((*Daniel was accidentally infected with a device designed to kill Goa’uld; since he was not a host at the time the device instead caused him to experience symptoms like those of schizophrenia. He was committed to an institution before he was able to convince his friends that he was not actually crazy.))
((Dr. Daniel Jackson from the TV series “Stargate SG-1”. He’s an archeologist/anthropologist/philologist working as a civilian consultant to the U.S. Airforce on a top-secret government project. The Stargate is a large metal ring, built by an ancient civilization of aliens, which creates a wormhole between the ‘gate on Earth and those settled on other planets, allowing interstellar travel between the two points in a matter of moments. Daniel serves on SG-1, a first contact team, working as a cultural expert and liaison between Earth and the many strange people they meet on the other side of the wormhole.
One type of alien that the team has encountered are the Goa’uld, a parasitic race which lives by taking over the body of a ‘host’ (humans being preferred over other species).
Stargate is currently in its tenth season, but I am taking Daniel from early season three, right after the episode “Legacy”. For more information, see the profile.))
((For those of you from NO, I play Shadow. Also, I’m really sorry this is so long))
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He figures any race advanced enough to create a virtual reality this believable would already know about the Stargate, especially if that is what brought him here. Telling John about it probably can't hurt.
"But look, you said that you have experience with alternate realities. So've I. So maybe we're from ones that are very similar, but not quite the same. If someone got sucked up into a wormhole I would definitely here about it... maybe it hasn't happened in my time yet... or maybe it doesn't happen in my reality at all.”
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"In my reality - that would be in the year 2002 - humans have barely been farther than the moon landings. It's rather irritating - "He turns to Crichton, "And so is the brief discription of my species as 'catman'. Jellicle have about the same genetic relation to cats as humans do to, say, lemurs, or maybe even bushbabies."
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“Well, to be honest, most of the technology isn’t ours. We’ve been doing pretty well, I think… learning a lot in a hurry. We’ve also come pretty close to really messing things up a time or two, though.” Or three or four.
“But many of the people I work with are amazingly intelligent,” he continues, more brightly. “And we’ve met other races that are far ahead of us in technological development.” Not that any of said races had been tremendously eager to share their advanced technology, but Daniel doesn’t mention it because… well, sometimes he understands. The very young and all that.
It would be easier if his entire world wasn't threatened with destruction by a technologically superior race.
He catches the word ‘jellicle’ and it sounds very vaguely familiar… he goes over a few likely languages in his head but can’t place the word and decides that he’s probably never heard it before.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t catch your name.”
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John also considers Jackson's theory on the alternate reality. He's had quite a bit of experience with that, so it doesn't worry him or come as much of a surprise. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Where I come from the wormholes don't need gates and they tend to open up pretty randomly. Not coordinated like where you're from. And you've been using them for exploration?" John nods in approval. If the power could have been controlled that way where he came from, he'd have certainly been in favor of such a project. "Far out."
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"Very, very far out, if what Doctor Jackson is telling us is true." The 'Catman' gives Crichton a small smirk, to show that he's not really annoyed, then turned back to Jackson. "I'm not calling you a liar, by-the-way. In my experience, most fairly unconventional stories generally turn out to be true, so it's often more prudent to believe them in the first place. Also, my full name is Macavity. 'Mac' is merely a crude abreviation for those who are too lazy or as the case may be, idiotic, to pronouce it fully."
He can't be bothered to beat around the bush like he did with Crichton; and besides, there's something about Jackson that makes his fur prickle, which tells him that this one is not someone to cross lightly.
((Hope that's alright. danny-boy can be pretty scary when he's cranky, right?))
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He’s used to having to fight to defend what he believes… even what he knows to be true. But then he supposes that if anyone would believe in wormholes and alien races it would be people who woke up one morning (or afternoon or evening) to find themselves… in this place. Besides, as Macavity is clearly not human, he’s already encountered more than one race of beings, so the concept of aliens certainly wouldn’t be strange to him.
Wait… Macavity?
((Bast! Hiya! Yeah, I figured I wouldn't overload Daniel with the realization of where he's heard the word just yet... he's got enough on his plate at the moment. In a few days he might remember, though.
And I like what you did with that. Daniel’s one of those Quiet People; you underestimate him a little and then BAM! The fact that he’s the world’s biggest sweetheart notwithstanding.))
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But he sees Doctor Jackson struggling with it a bit, right on the edge, and figures he'll give the guy a hand. He'd felt much better once he had figured it out himself, after all. John like playing dumb, but his head was always going whether he like it or not. "Come on, you know what it is," he says, a hinting nudge in his voice. "Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity..."
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"How do you know that song?" He says sharply.
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“There never was a cat of such deceitfulness and suavity…” he looks up, startled. “Oh,” he says, and then again, with dawning realization, “Oh.”
He blinks, and stares at John. And then at the growling Macavity.
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He surely hadn't expected Mac to have any idea what he was talking about, so he's a little surprised when he gets growled at, but he smiles again quickly and figures he'll just tell the truth. It's easier. "Chill, Mac, your blood pressure's gonna go higher than the Mir Space Station with a hair trigger like that. Read it in a book, just like I'm sure Daniel here did, isn't that right?" He winks at the Doctor laughingly.
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"A...book?" He repeats, then curses mentally. He hasn't sounded that uncertain since he was kitten. "That's...interesting. That's very interesting. What book might this be?"
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He looks at Doctor Jackson and thinks that more wormhole talk would probably kill the man right about now. Overload and all that. "Look, when you've settled, you want me to drop by so we can talk? Maybe we could learn something from each other. And I'd love to know about what you've seen out there. Probably as weird as the stuff I've seen."
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"Yeah a book. I read a lot of books of history and ancient legend. It was probably one of those," he says, trying to put Macavity at ease.
It's not like he hasn't met other personas that were only supposed to exist in the minds of men... somehow it still surprises him to meet one of T.S. Eliot's cats in this place. He wants to point out to John that the fact that they are most likely from different universes makes it even more surprising, especially since it seems quite likely that John and Daniel themselves are from different realities. What are the odds of three different realities having that complex of a common tie. Maybe Macavity is actually from either Daniel or John's reality... just because he doesn't know about the Stargate Program doesn't mean he can't be from Daniel's. And then if the T.S. Elliot from John's reality somehow found a quantum mirror or some other kind of device that allows crossing into different planes...
He really needs to sit down. "Yeah," he says in agreement with John's proposal. "Lots of weird stuff."
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To Daniel, he smirks. "Please don't give that look. The only possible way you could have heard of a Jellicle in ancient legend is Bast, or perhaps sekhmet, although the latter's species was questionable."
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John has an inkling that Sekhmet was supposed to be a lion, but his ancient history is a little fuzzy and so he leaves Jackson to answer that one, since he'll clearly know best.
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Somehow, the idea of Jellicles actually existing in the Ancient Egypt of his Earth makes more sense to Daniel than the cross-pollination of a book of poetry across three separate realities. But perhaps Sam would disagree.
He gives John a quick, mischievous smile. He has a private feeling that John might actually be Hamlet… but he settles for responding to the other man’s second comment. “A sitcom in space? Nah, sounds like your life is more like one of those shows on the science fiction channel in which the morally sensitive hero with a troubled past uses human ingenuity and pop culture references to defeat beyond-impossible odds and advanced evil villains with superior technology. And makes it with a different alien woman each week while blowing a lot of stuff up.”
He blinks. “Actually, with a few changes that could mine too…”
It had to be done.
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Totally. You win at life.
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It doesn't take a married man to catch the light in John's eyes when he speaks about the 'alien woman', and Daniel's smile softens. "What's her name?" he asks quietly.
((As do you, dearie. XD Poor John.))
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"I suspect any media connected to Jellicles in a world with humans as the only dominant species would be something hopelessly juvenile, such an animated film, or even a musical." Macavity stated drily. "And my personal life could probably consituite to something along the lines of a high-rated detective show, or perhaps one of those forensic whodunits...something unresonably violent, most likely."
"On the other note, Bast was one of the first historically and archeologically recorded Jellicles, and possibly one of the most beautiful, with smooth sable-black fur and green eyes that men and toms tore each other to pieces over... she was a fierce rival of the human Nefertari. And she was unaccountably long lived, surviving for over a hundred years and dying in the year of the bull. Her half-sister, Sekhmet, was much less celabrated, but was a great general of Egypt's armies, and possibly the first example of a Jellicle-lion crossbreed. As you say, her son, Máahes, carried on the lion gene, and ever today it's rather common for some males to possess mane-like ruffs of fur about their necks..."
He realises he's babbling, and stops there. it's unlike him to get carried away like that.
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"That's fascinating," he says, when Macavity stops, presumably for breath. (Being Daniel, he doesn't view it as babbling at all.)
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"I thought it was hip to be geeky now," John teases before his eyes fall just a little as Daniel asks her name. Was he that transparent? "Aeryn..." he answers softly.
Boy, he's gonna kill the mood if he talks about her right now. Stick to goofy, it'll keep things light. "Well, if the writers for your show need any new idea, they should stop off around here and check out Star Tours. They'd be loaded for another season."
He stares at Mac with a quirked eyebrow and laughs once he's done. "Damn, Mac, that sure was fascinating, but hell if that's not the most I've ever heard you speak at one time."
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"Yeah, and when they need to replace the actors who quit they can just pick up those from your canceled show!"
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"Well, at least that means the guy who plays me will always have work, so that's good," he replies. "Nothing worse than an out of work actor..."
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"How about an out of work archaeologist?" he quips, remembering the disastrous months before he was hired to translate for the program that would come to be called the Stargate Project. In Daniel's book, nothing distracts from an uncomfortable conversation like a little self-deprecation.
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