Kobol's Legacies

Dinner proved to be fun. Their journey from the bar to the casual, easy-going dining area had taken a little longer when Rosie had mistakenly taken them down a wrong corridor, a lucky meeting with a crew member finally setting them back on the right track again.

Always one with a good appetite John finished off his dessert with relish, shaking his head when asked if he'd like another. The conversation had been light and fun, tall tales told and silliness imbued. As they left the dining room John looked across at the directory that indictaed where some of the entertainment areas lay, and what was available.

"So, what would m'lady like to do now?" he asked, indicating the directory.

Stowing the last of his incidentals into a foot locker, Cole turned and flopped into one of the metal chairs that surrounded the tiny metal table sitting amongst the collection of bunks, photos and gear that the Black Hydras called home. He glanced around the room for a second and with a sigh he came to the realization that this was his home too. After pondering that thought for a moment or two he wasn't sure whether the idea of this new home was exciting or depressing. Still, the silence and solitude was causing some melancholy to slip into his mood.

He stood once more and took off his flight suit for the first time since he'd come aboard the Avalon. Now in his loose black pants and black and gray combination of sleeveless shirts, he reached for his guitar. Taking the beaten black case into his hands gingerly, he slowly opened the clasps. They groaned from age and wear. It was comforting, familiar sound. No matter where he'd gone in his life, Cole had always had his guitar.

( Lifting the simple )