Shepherd Derrial Book

[Shepherd Book]

SHEPHERD DERRIAL BOOK

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CORTEX RECORDS INCOMING....

Name: Derrial Book (Born: Henry Evans)
Homeworld: One of the Core worlds, possibly Londonium
Birthdate: Exact date unknown, possibly sometime in 2465
Current Age: ~52
Gender: Male
Height: 5'11''
Weight: 170 lbs
Alignment: Order of Shepherds
Rank: Shepherd
Ship: Serenity
Position: Shepherd

Flags: None

Personnel Records (History):

Having escaped from an abusive father at a young age, Henry Evans found himself on the streets. Claiming his life for his own, he did whatever it took to protect himself. Friends were tools to get what he needed, threads to be cut if they would bind him. A gun and a reputation were all he had. It was a gun and a reputation which caught the attention of an Independence recruiter. But Henry had one cause, one thing to fight for-- Himself. It wasn't until a gun and a reputation caused the police to take action against him, that he decided a cause was just what he needed. Just what he needed to get off the planet.

Out of the way and ignored by the Alliance, Jiangyin was well suited for the early days of the independence movement-- primitive, backwards, and bullshit in abundance-- a perfect match. Neither the endless lowing of cattle nor the endless droning of debate of the movement’s planning meetings suited Henry. The struggle, the fight, kept Henry alive. The only fight on Jiangyin was the occasional brawl with movement recruits. The only struggle was finding a reason to continue this existence. At a rarely attended movement meeting, he was offered a chance to escape this wall-less prison. Henry only needed two things to become a mole for the movement, an ocular implant to report everything seen and an identity the Alliance would recruit. A surgeon’s scalpel provided one; Henry’s garrote provided the other.

Life as a mole in the Alliance suited Derrial Book, formerly known as Henry Evans. The movement wanted him to struggle and fight his way up the ranks of the Alliance military-- struggle and fight was Derrial’s life blood; it suited his cause. His “do anything to survive” attitude was rewarded by the Alliance command. In meteoric fashion, Derrial was a bright star shooting his way up the ranks. In eight short years, Derrial commanded an operation over six systems with tens of thousands of men under his command. After eight short years, the movement finally utilized the information his ocular implant automatically relayed. In eight short minutes, an operation that would have crushed the independence movement in a single day, was stopped by a preemptive counterattack.

Like Miranda, Book’s embarrassing military defeat was swept under a rug. Without a defeat, there was no charges. Without charges, there was no court-martial. Without a court-martial, there was no dishonorable discharge. Without a dishonorable discharge, Derrial Book was honorably retired from his command position. However, there was nothing honorable about the send off he received from his superiors. Placed in escape capsule and jettisoned into space, it was luck that landed Book in the wastelands of Persephone.

Survival. Struggle. Fight. These things defined Book. Having failed in his fight, his struggle, the man Book was, was no more. As surely as a bullet to the brain, his purpose for living was stripped from him, leaving an empty shell of a man to wander the streets aimlessly. Beaten and broken, staring into a bowl of chicken soup, served to him at a homeless shelter, Book awoke. Infused with a sense of something greater than himself, his search for an answer led him to Southdown Abbey. After ten years of healing, he returned to the world, to help people find the comfort as he had found.

Psychological Review (Personality):

A true believer, Shepherd Book has faith that his presence in the world will make a difference. That lives filled with suffering and pain desperately need to hear, to see an example, of the love that had saved him so many years before. Foremost in his mind, guiding his actions, is the axiom, "Love God. Love folks."

Life aboard Serenity has shown him the life he thought was far behind him, is closer the surface than he thought. Closer than he had hoped. Constantly struggling with the Book that was, the Book that is struggles to teach those who don't want to hear about belief and the strength it gives a man. To teach, not by words and lectures, but by example.

Likes / Favorites:

*Gardening
*seeing compassion in others
*Belief in a good cause
*Life's simple pleasures
*the sense of belonging to the Serenity family

Dislikes / Hates:

*Injustice
*folk mocking belief and faith
*being powerless to help
*breaking promises
*people who talk in theaters

Personal Quote:

Having finished his workout with Jayne, Book was wiping sweat from his brow when River appeared on the stairs to the cargo hold. He watched as she placed a music player on a crate and pressed play. The sensual tones of "Asi Se Baila el Tango" filled the air, a tune he knew from long ago. River began to sway to the music, letting the music fill her body. He tossed the towel over his shoulder, keeping his hand on it, he started across the cargo bay to return to his room, not wanting to be part of whatever game River had planned.

As he walked, he watched as River began to walk toward him, her hips moving to the music like a cat on the prowl. He stopped in his tracks when River, a short three paces away, raised her hand in a move that cried seduction, then motioned for him to continue forward.

Book's head began to spin as he recalled days long past when he had began a dance with these exact steps, these exact motions, this exact song. He took one slow step forward as River mirrored his step, unaware his steps were mirroring the beat of the music. He stared into her eyes as he took another step forward wondering how she knew he had danced this dance before. Wondering how she knew he would walk across where he did when the music started playing. Wondering why he didn't walk past her, but instead began to circle her, as she began to circle him.

Her hand raised and pressed against his chest as their feet moved them in a slow half circle. His eyes locked onto hers, trying to see into her mind to figure out what game she was playing with him. His feet, following the lead of the music, led him back to the spot where she had motioned him forward. His hand tore the towel from his shoulder and tossed it to the side, as he remembered doing the same with a suit jacket in a past life. She was closer now than she had been when she motioned, just as she should be. He stared at her for a moment, uncertainty giving him pause. But when the music hit the right beat, his body took over. Moving by instinct created by months of practice, he lunged forward, just as she lunged forward. Their arms caught at the elbows, then they slowly straightened, turning slowly toward each other.

As she spun up his arm and across his body, he turned and caught her by the waist. His left hand clasped to hers, the sudden stop of the spin seemed to carry their bodies lower. Left knee bent and right leg extended out behind him, his eyes locked on River's. As their bodies straightened, he wanted to allowed a slight smiled. He knew the bible lacked a prohibition against dancing, but this dance would certainly push the rules on lust.

His concern wasn't his lust, as they began the quick, tight, turn that would leave them a several of paces from their current position. He worried about the lust of the other people watching, as River's right knee rose to the level of his waist, her foot locking behind his leg, pulling them closer. The spinning turn ended in a lunge, Book's left knee bent, River's right leg still wrapped around it. A pause in motion, her body was pressed tight against his. Then she slowly dipped backwards, her head fell back, straightening the line made by her jaw and neck. Her leg still around his, her torso snapped upright, their eyes locking once more.

Straightening their bodies, River unhooked her leg in a half hop. He held her in an open embrace, his left hand holding hers, his right around her waist. Book felt her hips swiveling beneath his hand, heard her footwork against the deck plate. He felt her step under his foot just as he lifted it, felt her step over and around his leg as he stepped into her. Spinning her into a reversed embrace, he held her body close, her back to his.

As they began promenading, her body still turned away from his, he wondered which of the crew had been here when the dance began. Their hips twisting in unison with each step across the cargo hold, a kick and a spin by River ended the promenade. Held in an open embrace, River once more began to move her feet as she danced a complete circle around him.

He led her into a spin that led her across and away from his body. Ending the spin, her legs bent in a half lunge, her body faced away from his, her right hand reaching back held his left hand. She turned about, swinging her left hand in a wide arc, to grasp his hand still extended to her. As her hand made contact with his, he turned away from her, as if her hand had imparted the momentum of her turn to his body. Knowing what was to come, Book deviated from the choreography of the dance. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together for a quick, silent, prayer, "Lord, give me the strength to keep my thoughts pure."

Book felt her body press against his back, felt her hands wrap around his chest, felt her leg slide up his. Reaching his hand down to her knee, his hand followed it as it continued to slide up to his waist. He turned quickly to face her. As though afraid of him, River's shuffling feet carried her backwards. Taking one long step for every two of hers, Book followed.

When River ended her retreat by dropping to one knee, her hands clasped in front of her breasts in prayer, Book's steps nearly faltered. She was mirroring his earlier ad lib with her own. A look of fearful innocence on her face, she looked at a holy man, praying for absolution. Placing his hand on her forehead in a blessing, he realized River's alteration and his response had just changed the entire feel of what was to come. As he slid his hand from her forehead past her ear to the back of her neck, he wondered briefly if there was a special level of hell for Shepherds who danced the tango.

As if to pull her into a kiss, his hand, still on her neck, pulled her from her knee. As his foot pivoted away, his hand led her into a spin that would take her around not once, but twice. Maintaining contact with her neck and shoulder during the spin, Book's hand seemed to guide her spin, seemed to pulled her head back, seemed to pull her off balance, seemed to cause her to fall backward. The spin ended, her back arched toward him, her head caught at his waist by the same hand that had sent River into the dizzying spin.

River began straightening immediately after the backwards dip, Book's hand seeming to lift her upright. Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her backwards, their hips meeting just as the vocalist in the song let out a sigh. As River ran her hands up her torso, her eyes closed and lips seemingly parted in pleasure, Book mentally answered his question, "Yes, a very special level of hell."

Bodies still pressed together, they began a staccato walk across the cargo bay. Stalking forward in unison, her eyes met the eyes of one of the crew. River's pace quickened, pulling her body away from Book's. He lunged forward, grabbing her by the elbows, pulling her to a stop before she can escape into the arms of another. Her chins lifted in the air slightly, as if inviting the crew member to taste her neck, before Book pulled her back into a spin that ended with their bodies pressed together in a low reversed lunge, his left hand in her right, his right hand around her waist.

As she leaned away from him, he leaned forward to maintain the closeness, his lips an inch from hers seemed to travel down her neck to come to a rest hovering above her breasts. His hand moved down the side of her body, caressing her through the inch of air separating it from her. Sliding upright as one, he straightened his arm as she spun away from him. Catching his hand in hers with her arm fully extended, her other hand flicked straight up into the air in a flourish.

With a flick of his wrist, River came spinning back to him. He lifted her into the air, her leg, pointing straight toward the ceiling, gave a quick double kick to match the double chord of the piano. As he lowered her, his body dropped low to the ground, leg extending behind him. Body mirroring his, she touched the ground just as the final chords of the song rang out. They held the position only allowing their bodies to relax when three trailing piano notes signaled the actual end of the song.

They rose together, their bodies parting as they took a half step away from each other. Book gave a short bow to River, thanking her for the dance. Fetching the towel he had thrown at the beginning of the dance, he turned to see the crew members who were present staring blankly at him and River. Towel dabbing the sweat from his brow and neck, he quoted, "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to tear down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time--" pausing in his quote, he smiled. Bringing his arms up in an empty embrace, he snapped his feet together, stomping one foot and then the other, as he continued, "--to TANGO!"

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