Tamlin makes her decision.
Location: Somewhere on Caprica
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 553
Six AM in the morning, mid-winter, by the reckoning of the hemisphere of Caprica she'd retreated to. One of her father's furnished business apartments, that he used when work required. The rest of the time it remained blissfully vacant. Except for now, as Tamlin Dorn had been using it as her recovery place. It'd been almost four months since that awful moment, since the pain and the loss that came after, and Tamlin had not been back to the Dorn compound. Instead, she'd given herself over to living in almost complete isolation. She had everything brought in, she entertained no visitors, and she walked the streets under the cover of relative anonymity. Every now and again, she saw her face splashed on the cover of a tabloid, the press speculating as to precisely why the young socialite had so suddenly and completely disappeared from high society. A number of them had, in an abstract way, flirted with the truth, claiming she'd run off to have someone or another's lovechild...oh if they only knew the truth...but the rumours of her involvement with the Niles scion had mostly been given over to more recent news. The sins of the father overshadowing the presumed sins of the son.
And Tamlin had time to consider, in the months since she'd been in her self-imposed seclusion, of how she could possibly go on with her life. The idea of returning to the bosom of the Dorns, her father in particular, was absolutely abhorrent to her. But finding a way to escape his reach and grasp seemed almost impossible. Or at least it did, until the day her wanderings managed to bring her past one of the Colonial Naval recruitment stations, and she stepped inside. On Caprica, few had more power than Morten Dorn, but even he could not fight the government itself. Perhaps she would take a chance and let fate decide where she would go. Anywhere but back into the grasp of the Dorns. Anywhere but back to a life she had no control over.
And so, six in the morning, and she's packing the small bag of goods that are all she'll be allowed to bring with her to basic training. Some few pieces of civilian clothes, though it's unlikely she'll be able to wear them at all until she finishes basic. A few books she's read and reread so often, their covers are worn and well used, a tablet filled with pictures and other assorted memories of her old life. And tucked down at the very bottom, inside a scrap from a dress she'd worn one bright spring morning under a bower of flowers, was a simple gold ring on a chain. Even after all of the pain, and all of the lies, she couldn't bear to part with it. Because...even if she had never truly been loved, she had loved.