Pairing/Charecter(s): Ancient!John, Ronan Dex; background John/Rodney,
Warnings/Spoliers: this drabble can takes place, chronologically, after "Socii" in the Ancient!John 'verse, with some lines taken from "Aurora"
Disclaimer: Title 17 of the US Code, § 107, aka the Fair Use Doctrine.
Summary: Actions, words, and chess.
Notes: This seemed like a brilliant way to start the next installment... until it didn't.
An Ancient!John Story
"I wonder what fuels the fires that burn images of glorious battle into the hearts of so many […]. Surely the tangible remnants, the rubble, and the bones, are hardly worth the moment of battle, but is there, I wonder, something less tangible here, something of a greater place? Or is there, perhaps – and this is my fear - something of a delusion to it all that drives us to war, again and again?"
RA Salvatore's The Two Swords
"It's called chess," Iohannes tells Ronan, who's watching a game two of Rodney's science minions are playing on the other side of the aisle. He knows what it's like to be confused by the things the Terrans do, and has tried to do his best to help Ronan adapt as best he could. It's a difficult thing, though, what with the other man having been on his own for so long and Iohannes, admittedly, having trouble adapting himself sometimes, but it's better than it could be. At the very least, it's better than nothing, and that's probably the important thing in these situations. "It's a game."
"They've been sitting there like that since I sat down," he says, words almost accusing. And maybe they're supposed to be – Ronan, from what little he knows of him (which is less than one might think, given the time he's been on Atlantis), is a man of actions, with little use for the science and research that has been the staple of the Expedition's time for most of the last few months. Yes, there have been Bantos lessons and target practices and long morning runs, but that doesn't change the fact they've not really done anything to fight the Wraith since Ronan's been here. Nothing that involved the death of actual Wraith, at least. "Neither of them's even blinked yet."
"Well, it's not really a game with a lot of action."
"I can see that," Ronan says wryly, turning most of his attention back to the tray in front of him.
Iohannes stares into his tea cup. After an experimental sip, he decides its still too weak and leaves it to brew while he tries to explain. "It's about strategy. He's planning his next move, and the move after that, and the one after that."
"They do a lot of that around here, don't they?"
"Eh, don't let them fool you. They can be surprisingly resourceful when the situation calls for it."
"All I've seen so far is a lot of paperwork and a lot of yelling when things don't go their way."
He shrugs. Iohannes has lived through war. He's starting to know peace, or, at least, a rough approximation of it. He knows which he prefers, even if there are times when he feels a Wraith armada would be preferable to spending another day doing paperwork. "Like I said, the situation has to call for it."
"You're nothing at all like I imagined an Ancestor to be."
"Thanks," he says honestly, and whatever he is going to say next is cut off by his radio going off, so he just nods to Ronan and leaves him, at least, to finish his lunch before the next crisis strikes.