*audio feed begins. Faintly in the background, a choir can be heard*
All that emotion, yet their intended audience will never applaud or thank them. So why do they do it? What's in it for them?
I wonder if it's the emotion itself that is the end goal. I've always thought feelings were a means to an end, tools to be used and manipulated, not the end in itself.
I've never been in an Amarrian Chapel before. The architecture is fascinating. I guess this must be one of the better ones, being an Imperial Crusade station. That pillar must be supporting a tremendous weight and those archways... how do they do not just cave in?
The architect must have been paid handsomely to put so much effort into this. Or did he do it out of faith, devotion... love?
I wish I could understand what they're singing. How long has it been since I last sung myself? Last time was in that bar where I first met that bastard Claude. Started out filling in for the act who couldn't make their gig because their transport was caught up in a gate shoot-out. I didn't do too badly, I even got a regular slot on the graveyard shift. It was easy money on top of my regular bar wages, so I took it on. Hah! I still remember by best compliment from a sober punter, something like, "Yeah, you look smouldering, your voice is deep, smooth and pitch perfect... just there's no feeling, no soul in the words". Hmph.
*click of a lighter*
I enjoyed listening to Commander Yishal's playing the other night; I can't remember what those instruments are called now, dammit, it's a Khanid sort, with strings... I dunno. But it felt good to hear it, not to mention seeing my usually strict and coldly efficient commander relaxed like that. I felt that same mesmorising calm I felt when I watched Vince and Kimmi dancing that...
*Celia stops abruptly. A male voice can heard, close, but out of the dictaphone's range to pick up his words clearly*
If God doesn't want me to smoke in here, he can tell me himself.
*Celia's tone is even and ice-cold. The male voice replies, a little louder but still unclear.*
My Master?
*A cold, cackling laugh reverberates*
If you really want to speak to my authorities, Padre, you're going to have to travel to Curse and demand an audience with the Dominations.
*The man's voice raises in an angry tone. The feed is suddenly cut*
