Star Trek: Theurgy

Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

August 29, 2020, 08:53:56 PM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia
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Resting back into his comfortable leather chair, slightly reclined, one calf precariously teetering across his other knee, Stellan skimmed through a few protocols on a large PADD he held pinned to his stomach, with one hand. There had been a lot to catch up on, since being unthawed like a frozen fish, to join the grand meal as a side course, a few days ago. He had insisted to go back to work right away. A wish that Commander Hathev had granted him gladly, heading a department that was thoroughly needed but stretched incredibly thin. He also needed to get out of his quarters … the first night there had been a nightmare. Lying still he felt like he was still in stasis, the cold creeping into his limbs, making them numb to the touch. He of course knew that it was a psychosomatic reaction, to the overwhelming thought of cold and restriction, a mild post traumatic remnant of his long encapsulation. A time which, he wasn’t entirely sure, had passed him unnoticed. Too many things he had read up upon, in patient files and logs, had seemed like déjà vu, but strictly in an emotional capacity.

As if his mind had been present throughout all of the horrendous history that unfolded since Jupiter, his last visual memory the singed carpet floor of his office, cinder pebbles peppered across with low lying smoke and the living glow of fire, casting wayward shadows, before everything went dark. But that didn’t seem like his last memory, in the grander scheme of ingrained mementos, a stretch of which now seemed obscured and hidden away, behind a veil of nitrogen steam. Letting the PADD tip backwards onto his lap, the man pushed up the glasses with two fingers, massaging the bridge of his nose, against the persistent stress headache that was developing there. A recovering patient, caught between too little and too much mental stimulus, the counsellor didn’t find himself in a very enviable position. But as it so happened, the man knew he could find solace in those who were tormented by even grander daemons, than his own, as he had done so in the past. Like a sick junky, addicted to the unraveling of mental trauma, disregarding the human (or otherwise alien) aspect of it. Behind every affliction, there was a history, a narrative, but he only really cared about the satisfaction of getting in there and fixing things up as he went. Playing god, among the thoughts and emotions of people.

He looked up, as the doorbell chimed. Black eyes focusing at the closed shutters, while he readjusted the glasses on his nose, to filter out the remaining sensitivity of his genetically altered ocular structure while he was still an embryo. A mere side-effect of the intended – and achieved – goals of strengthening his half Betazoid telepathic skills and talents. Placing the pad on the desk before him, shutting it off in the process, the man turned his chair to face it as well as the door. “Come in.” his baritone voice carried across the room and to the receptors of the ship’s AI, which set the digital signal in motion that eventually triggered the motors in the walls. As the panels slid open, his eyes fell on the familiar statuesque features of Ensign Cir’cie, Theurgy’s Vulcan botanic science officer, that had suffered through some chapters of Theurgy’s own Greek tragedy more so than others. And while the raging brush fires in her mind had been put out already, there was yet a long way to go before the last smoldering ambers would be extinguished. Being his first challenging case since coming back to life, basically, he had already developed a therapy plan for her that would span the course of many sittings like this one, and the one they already had.

“Welcome back.” Stellan smiled slightly, a humorous glimmer in his eyes belying calculated intent. “Please, have a seat.” Rising from his chair, PADD in one, the other long arm and large hand motioned towards the two armchairs at the side, appraising one another at a modest angle. Making his way around the desk he waited for the Vulcan to be seated, before slowly lowering himself into the chair adjacent. Placing the minicomputer atop his soon crossing legs, he shuffled slightly to get comfortable, knowing it would be a sentiment that could compel others to follow in a similar style of ease. “So, forty-eight hours since our first session, how are you feeling about your personal progress?” he started out, his deep voice calming in a sense that could be soothing to many, but also suspicious to some. “Have you noticed any difference in the occurrence of unwanted emotion during your waking hours?” he asked curiously, after opening her file and starting an entry. Ultimately propping his chin on one hand, supported by his elbow on the armrest of the chair. Appraising her with dark eyes and Betazoid intrigue.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #1 – September 07, 2020, 01:50:45 AM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

With slight reluctance as she walked into the Lieutenant's Counseling room, she would do as instructed - her lithe frame which her uniform hugged swaying with grace before she would finally sit down and fold one of her legs over the other, her piercing green eyes glancing over at him with an uncertain yet still rather analytical gaze. Biting her lip softly as he asked her his questions - she would pause and take a moment to compose herself. In truth she did not enjoy these new Counseling sessions with such a...handsome and emotionally inclined individual. It eroded her own restraints in regards to how she locked her emotions down like most Vulcans chose to do - taking a moment to mentally scold herself however, she reminded herself that it was his duty to pry out such emotions in order to best understand them...and hopefully tame them.

She would glance at her lap for a moment, her nails tracing over her thighs before she would look back at Stellan and then begin to speak. "My personal progress... In regards to dealing with accepting the pain and overcoming the usual feelings of anxiety...the need to be away from others. I have made advances in being able to be feel more secure around members of the opposite sex. I no longer feel a need to protect myself...and I have also been able to work more closely with plants that resemble the Niga's anatomy. Vines and Orchids don't affect me in ways they used too. So it is a positive improvement in that regard. Though I must admit...I still prefer to be on my own in both social events and work efforts." she would answer in a concise and honest way - though her expression did seem to hold some level of doubt, an indicator that her words were coming from her self-searching rather than giving a pre-planned or scripted answer.

As Cir'Cie considered Stellan's second question, she would fidget uncomfortably slightly in her seat, brushing her shapely legs together and thinking over how to answer him honestly without coming across as sounding compromised or overly emotional. In this silence the sound of the ships ventilation system filled the still moment, adding both a relaxing background sound that only somehow managed to make the silence more tense and for Cir'Cie; awkward. With a slow exhale through her nose she would look over at Stellan intently so her eyes would meet his behind his light-shielded glasses.

"The...sexual urges are still present. Somedays they are weak and barely noticable...simple pangs of arousal or flirtatious suggestion within the mind. Easily dismissed. Other days they are very potent, and I find myself having to take unregulated breaks within my work hours to ensure my efficiency is not compromised. I have been meditating on a more frequent basis to keep these feelings in check. The last thing I want to do is to cause some kind of disturbance upon the ship."

Slowly; she would stand up and place her hands behind her back as she would start to pace in a circular manner - thinking to herself, her eyes visibly darting slightly from left to right as she wrestled with her thoughts before she would eventually stop and turn to face Stellan. "Vulcans...do not typically seek emotional support from other individuals...unless they are severely traumatized or suffering from a condition which can cause emotional instability. I do not feel I am suffering or traumatized...I just have a very strong libido. It is not something I asked for - but I am doing my best to learn to live with it...you do believe me, don't you Counselor?"

In how she asked this question, the way she stood with her legs slightly parted and how her expression seemed to hold a level of uncertainty; Stellan could tell she was feeling uncomfortable and potentially aroused from just being in this room alone with him - her question not only came across as her trying to re-assure herself of her current assertions and methods on dealing with her condition - but also possibly as a way to try and get away from him. Clearly he could see that there was work still to be done and if he were any other man, the fact of having a curvy and sexually over-charged Vulcan might be enough to be considered an opportunity. But before him was another puzzle to solve and another individual to help.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #2 – September 14, 2020, 06:53:46 PM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia
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Telepathy and empathy, to Stellan, two entirely different things, though the same manifestations of a similar impression for either part of his genealogy, often times proved to merge into one common sentiment that was hard to differentiate. More precisely, that he wouldn’t know where an intercepted internal thought ended, and an interpretation of an outward displays began. Like the beautiful Vulcan officer, breezing into his office like a wraith, a corruptive succubus, as he picked up a certain sense of attraction towards him. But at the warming, almost flattering sensation within, he could hardly identify whether that had been his human empathy, interpreting her outwards signals, or whether it was the more credible reading of her spiritual proclivities. Granted, as a member of her logically inclined, deeply disciplined species, she was not quite as much an open book as, let’s say, humans were. But what her mind lacked in approachability it held tenfold in order and collectedness. Even in her impaired emotional state, it was a glorious piece of art, to browse the neatly categorized and labeled mementos – for the lack of better words to describe a purely spiritual notion.

Either way, and long story short, her impressions made him smile a little bit more genuinely, as his mouth curled beneath the faint scruff, collecting on his chin and upper lip. It did not go unnoticed that the woman had a penchant to analyze herself as much as everyone else, constantly. It was a trait of her heritage, obviously, that strive for perfection and ultimate logic. Even though the very sentiment was grossly illogical in essence. He wasn’t here to judge a whole species, but rather help one individual in need. He nodded, as she spoke, collecting the verbal and the non-verbal tidbits given, consolidating them to a judgment worth noting down, in his mind. “So … the systematic desensitization as part of your therapy seems to be slowly internalizing. And you keep being aware of your dysfunctional thoughts, channeling them into a sense of realization and rationalization.” he more or less reiterated her narration in more medical terms that the PADD could record. Adding a jotted down note of his personal opinion in terms of what he picked up telepathically. Often times patience, especially troubled ones, developed an extremely cunning sense of saying exactly what the therapist wanted to hear.

“That’s good, that’s real and solid progress.“ Stellan acknowledged, looking back up at her with a positive aura to his pate and thoughts, as the pen had left the capacitive surface of his PADD. “Given that Vulcans are not inherently gregarious, in nature, I think it is perfectly normal that you prefer solitude. You should not try to overcorrect. You can, of course, become a more social individual - with exercise – but that’s not the goal of our therapy. You understand?” The goal was, after all, to restore her to her former self as good as they could, not shape her into a new version of herself. If they were to try and diverge from that path in any way, before re-establishing that sense of normality, she could lose the connection to her own self altogether. It did elude the man, that almost immediately after his second question the air shifted slightly, superficially as well as in her orderly mindscape. As discipline turned into a desperate compulsion for order. Biting his bottom lip, with intently narrowed eyes, he gauged her mind as well as her external reaction. Already cueing up some encouraging words in his mind, if the thoughts she was already formulating, wouldn’t find an immediate outlet into speech.

“I think it is good to understand that your productivity will, in fact, be compromised for some time, and to be fine with that. The mind cannot heal when it is under constant stress, just like a muscle cannot heal when the body doesn’t rest.” the counselor reiterated, trying to take some of the weight of perfectionism the young Vulcan naturally imposed upon herself. Her species could be the worst patients, just like they could be thee easiest ones, in theory. They possessed an extreme mental resilience and discipline that could be honed to deal with a lot of mental ailments that would bring your average human to its knees. But at the same time, when something was severe enough to actually affect them, it was a regular shit show. Though he would never outwardly call it that. “I’d rather not put you on reduced duty, because being idle, can be worse. But I’d like for you to treat your condition like you would … a broken leg.” he added, after having fished for the correct metaphor temporarily. “You will have to go easy on yourself first, and then, if additional external pressure exists, report that to me and I will handle it.” Making a note in his PADD already, he intended to find out whom her work schedules in the botanic labs coincided with, as a precautionary measure.

“As for your sexual urges, they are first and foremost natural, if heightened in acuteness. There is no clear scientific concensus over whether consciousness is supposed dictate sexual behavior, or the other way around. It’s more or less a societal preference and depends on the species or even just local heritage. But I’d like for you to continue to be mindful of your emotions, and not to subdue them, as you normally would. Keep them at a distance, analyze them, categorize them, and then sort them into their respective place. It will help you to maintain your mental discipline and emotional stability, without the usual repression methods, you’d normally employ. We want to focus on clinically abstracting the feelings, rather than just discarding them.” He explained, intent on elaborating on the subject, should they come to the actual psychotherapy portion of their meeting. Watching the brunette stand up, pacing a few circles in his office, Stellan patiently heeded her need her need to be mobile, making a small notation of it when she wasn’t looking. Seemingly a manifestation of her escape mechanism, the seeking of solitude when emotions threatened to become too vivid.

“I do believe you.” he asserted with a small nod, brows slightly raised above the dark rims of his glasses, for further reassurance. “When I said ‘rationalizing your emotions’, I did not mean putting them down as bagatelle. Do you feel like that would be a logical judgment? Considering Vulcan’s don’t usually exhibit strong libido. Not outside of their mating period.” he reminded her, feeling like she was losing the focus. “Try looking at your condition from my position, imagine this is someone else we’re talking about, suffering your symptoms. Taking unregulated breaks during working hours, heightened need for meditation … what would your clinical analysis be? As a Vulcan, as a scientist … as a Starfleet officer? Just a very strong libido?” Already knowing the answer, counseling was not about teaching someone the way to the light. Holistic therapy was about self-healing, as only self-motivated change, was lasting. “And that’s what I want you to focus on, to ground yourself in a reality outside of the logical repression of the undesirable, or of how your emotions make you feel. Put these notions on someone else and ask yourself if you would still consider that normal behavior, and, or what, you would advise said person, to address the issue.”

Just within a matter of minutes, Cir'Cie had fallen from the height of realisation and self-reflection, back to the dark valley of normalising her condition and the contrived excuses necessary to do so, inside her own narrative. Which wasn't surprising, or shocking, just evidence that a mind could not be healed with a cast or a shot. It took time and discipline. Who better suited for such a task, than a Vulcan?!

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #3 – November 13, 2020, 04:25:49 PM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

Slowly; as Stellan spoke his mind and gave his analysis - Cir'Cie would listen to him intently, but her eyes would remain fixed on him. If he didn't know any better, he could swear her green piercing orbs held a haze of visceral lust within them. While Stellan took the time to explain his thoughts on both how Cir'Cie had been handling herself and how she should be able to see what she would do if the problem was within someone else and she wanted to provide help, the youthful Vulcan would remain silent and just contemplate his words. It is true; when she had first regained her semblance after the incident with the Niga, she resisted and tried to remain as she had been before - largely stoic and refined, focused on her work and her scientific pursuits and for many a month she had done everything in her power to 'change' herself back to the way she had been. But as he spoke and he made her realize and confirm what she had been trying to do within the first place - she felt her heart sank somewhat, her mind starting to unravel and wonder...

"Would it not be easier or healthier to maybe accept who I am now... ever since I came back to the Theurgy, my life has become a lot more...constrained shall we say. They are a few members onboard who I have unveiled my feelings and desires too with... And in each instance I did - I felt free for it." she would unfold one of her legs and now sit with them slightly parted, as if to tease or lightly tempt her own counselor. "I understand why you would say what you have. Seeing the way I have been feeling and acting as a psychological error to be solved, to be fixed...to revert me back to what most would call normal. But it appears what happened is permanent. Who am I to wrestle with the neurological and potentially, physiological changes that have occurred to me."

Looking away from Stellan now, he might have been able to see how her eyes would dart from left to right slowly - contemplating the new suggestion she had given to herself. Maybe she should just accept the fact she was now a heavily promiscuous woman? It was a tempting notion to say the least; as if a small fragment of the Niga itself had become a part of her mind - which it had. And now that someone was trying to correct her, her mind was resisting on a subconscious level. Deep down she had come to enjoy the fires of desire that remained in the back of her mind and kept her nether regions tingling on a daily basis - with the chance to forego protocol, to forget about her duties to anyone else and just...be free.

Letting out an exhale and reaching a hand up to caress her hair, her eyes would turn back to Stellan. "You see what I have to deal with here... either I suppress and control these emotions and urges. Or I don't. Your methods and suggestions that we have been practicing over our meetings have helped because I've taken rigid measures to ensure I don't lose myself in a moment with another crew member. Now you're saying I should dare myself to try and manage these feelings as if they were normal? If I do - I can't guarantee that I'll be the Cir'Cie I was before I became a member of this ship."

While she remained within her seat, agitation was clearly seen in her body language. Her fists had clenched and her usual attentive expression towards him had changed into that same corrupting tone he had noticed before - and her eyes reflected that Succubus like nature he had described of her, having a predatory gaze to them now as she stared towards him.
"You want me to ground myself in a reality outside of the logical repression of the undesirable, or of how my emotions make me feel. Maybe I'm tired of repressing these feelings, maybe I should just embrace them, that I could use them to help others on the ship gain some semblance of morale or relief from this seemingly life-long quest that the Captain has us on! Her anger could be visibly seen for a moment and she would make a look as if realizing what she had just said. Taking a moment to process this, she moved back to her seat and leaned forward, holding her hands together before her mouth and then exhaling through her nose, mentally scolding herself for losing herself for a brief moment.

"I apologize...Stellan. I just grow weary of being told how I should be. What is expected of me. We're lightyears away from Starfleet and the Federation and yet we're told the most logical thing to do is bare the uniform with pride and pretend we're still in their ranks. Pretend we should be people that died the moment we began experiencing the challenges that both the Niga and Infested have thrown at us."  In someways, Cir'Cie envied that Stellan had spent a good majority of his time in stasis. That he was fortunate enough to be spared some of the trials that the crew of the Theurgy had been forced to face. But not her, she had been here from the beginning and in the time she had not been either working or sleeping with other members of the crew because of the cascade effect of what happened with the Niga - she's been exploring the teachings of Surak, relying on meditation techniques and an increased exercise regimen - leaving little free time for herself on most days. This, along with the daily and gradually increasing insistence in relation to her urges had lead her to this position now, the consideration of giving in and potentially becoming what her people called V'tosh ka'tur - Those without Logic. The thought of this conclusion filled her with both a sense of dread and potential relief and now that she had vented out her frustrations, she waited for Stellan's response.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #4 – November 15, 2020, 01:08:53 PM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia
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Stellan could understand the confusion, anger and disbelieve that was brought to the table by almost every patient e had dealt with in his career. The mind was one of the most valuable commodities a person possessed. It both contained the essence of their being as well as the mementos and experiences of their lifetime. Of course, they were protective of it. Of course, they thought they themselves should’ve held the key to mend that what was broken, as it was such an integral part of their own self. The road to psychological recovery was a long winding road, there was no straight shot at full recovery, and some twists and turns did not make sense until the very end. Which was why the base layer of any approach was to be trust. For an individual to feel and be ready to open up enough for someone else to get a closer look. And even more so to let this someone place a hand in the wound, sometimes, in order to untangle the mess. It wasn’t always a pleasurable affair … far from it. That’s why he liked to use the comparison of physical harm, because it was far more tactile to any sentient being to deal with, when a fractured mind, was in essence, very similar, to a bodily ailment.

He nodded, gently, but if only with the faintest sense of gratification, to her initial self-exploration. Furthering the outlines of what he had suggested into a more substantial approach, which was part of the self-revelation that accompanied internal healing. But at this point, his opinions on the matter merely manifested in slight notes to his PADD; rather than outwardly spoken judgments. Letting dark eyes focus back on the attractive woman once more, noting the subtle outward changes in her demeanor, as well as what he could gleam from her Vulcan mind, he grew quite aware of the developments. But did naught to avert them, right away. Everything was part of the process. Bringing forth the demons, to address them.

But as Cir’cie doubled down on a sentiment laid out by him initially, then processed by herself in an effort to understand it, Stellan shifted in his chair slightly, to address the notion. “I think, the important thing to understand is, that we’re not here to turn back the clock to a time before all of this happened. Such a feat is not possible … well, it is, technically, but it generally does more harm than good.” And the moment he’d gone there he regrated that unnecessary tangent. “We will never be the same we were, before something left an imprint on our psyche. I will never be the same man I was this morning, because of the things that happened since then, no matter how minute and mundane they were, they have become a part of me now. Just how your experiences have, for better or worth, become a part of you. We can’t control that. We can, however, control how we chose to deal with it. How to incorporate the demons into our new and current self. To an extent even, that can dictate who this new and current self will be, yes.” He concluded, bringing his hand up to the side of his defied jaw, input pen wedged in between, he supported the defined bone on his curved thumb, listening to her going on.

Taking note of her countenance slipping, the man rose his pate from the comfortable support of his digit, about to intervene on her tangent, when the woman herself, found the wits to judge her own actions. Which was always a good sign. Giving Cir’cie a moment to let her own words sink in, to process what she was feeling, allowing herself to feel, Stellan’s voice was clam and soft, as he spoke up. Not hinting at any kind of ill-will or disappointment towards her slip of control.

“I am not here to judge you, Ensign, and I hope I have not come across as intending to. You don’t have to be anything. Just because you’re Vulcan, doesn’t mean you can’t live a healthy life with emotions. Just because you’re a woman, doesn’t mean you can’t exercise your sexual liberty. The only one who is supposed to pass judgment on that, is you, and I believe, to an extent you have. Which is good. Since there is no sign of an antisocial personality disorder, which would impair your ability to judge right from wrong, the only way to define who you are, who you want to be, is by the way of letting us observe how it makes you feel. Thus, the importance of dealing with your emotions, comes into play. If you don’t like the way you feel, after you’ve given into your cravings, then you know, that it is not you, and instead a disorder, we have to work on.” Taking a quiet breath, brushing his lips together for a moment, faint scruff wiggling in the notion, Stellan resumed by adding: “We all need a sense of importance, to cling to. It is a very hard thing to give to one’s self. So even in the absence of the Federation, or Starfleet command, it is imperative, that we keep a semblance of order, among us. A code of honor, if you may, that keeps us from drifting into anarchy. You’ve been there, when that happened. It has to be avoided at all cost. And in return, it will help you to discover yourself in the aftermath of all this, when you contrast your behavior against this code.”

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #5 – December 14, 2020, 05:09:11 AM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

Now that Cir'Cie had calmed down and taken several long and quiet moments to listen over Stellan's professional opinions and his viewpoints that were backed up by beautiful logic - she realized he was indeed correct and that he was also right in that she had a choice to act with more freedoms than most other Vulcans allowed themselves to have...even if it was considered taboo among her people - she wasn't exactly among her people anymore. Her responsibility was first and foremost to the crew, and she figured from what Stellan was telling her, she could exercise her new found feelings in careful moderation to allow herself to explore them and learn to manage them, rather than bottling them and wrestling with them on a constant near daily basis.

"A sense of importance... Yes, you're correct. I feel logistically important to the ship. But I'm not sure if that's enough anymore. You've given me a lot to consider and think about...and I think I now finally understand what I need to do in order to move forward with more...coherence and order in my life. Lying to myself has only hurt me in the long term, despite it helping the crew in the short term. Perhaps finding another sense of purpose, or a way to reinvigorate my current one will help me in my need to feel...settled yet not stagnant. As opposed to feeling restless and mediocre."

Another pause would follow with her glancing directly back at Stellan, her piercing green eyes meeting his near black ones. "I apologize for losing my temper...and for going within proximity to your personal space. It has been harder for me, to take the appropriate counselling sessions with a male of the crew...but exercising self-control is needed...even if at times it feels so... illogical." she would exhale through her nostrils, her expression having the subtle yet noticeable tint of carnal desire comparable to how a Sehlat might view their prey before making a decision. Regardless she remained seated and even folded one of her slender and alluring legs over the other to show she was adamant in her desire to maintain decorum with Stellan...well, with him at least and if only out of respect, it would not take much for that barrier to be broken if one were to exploit it.

"Is there anything else you could suggest that might help me, Sir. Perhaps a medication as a contingency? It might be prudent...".

She would run her hands over her face before slowly sitting back fully and staring up at the ceiling. Her mind drifting to when times were much simpler and she was able to use 100% of her mind on any given task. When she had a spark and a drive for her work and her passions of science, when she didn't have to contend with the new drive of this other form of passion that for the most part she had kept under control for several months with only a few lapses here and there. But now she just wanted resolution, she wanted a way to deal with it, remove it, or embrace it and her endurance in waiting for that resolution was growing thin.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #6 – December 20, 2020, 10:49:15 PM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia
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There was always a sense of logic and abstraction when dealing with a Vulcan that Stellan could wholly appreciate. Where humans, and other races, tended to react with hurt vanity or emotional display of self-loathing, you could always trust the pointy-eared elves to take a step back and consider what’s being proposed. Even if they would eventually, politely, throw it in your face with all the cutting prose their language offered. With just one breath, Cir’Cie basically did most of his work for him. Putting his mere prompt into the perspective, he was ready to give, had she not been so sharp of mind. Pleasantly nodding it her every word, the man couldn’t help but arch his lips in an impressed manner.

“Any idea what this added purpose could be?” he asked, genuinely curious. There wasn’t much an officer would normally consider important beyond his duty … especially if interpersonal relationships were a touchy subject. Which were usually the second in line of priorities. Then again, Vulcan’s also considered spiritual clarity and peace of mind a worthy goal – though that seemed rather unachievable in the short run, he had to assume.

His brows then furrowed, as if two caterpillars were sparring with one another, when the Ensign mentioned a self-proclaimed loss of temper. Which, admittedly, for a Vulcan, was a rather wide net. For a moment, he was a bit dumbfounded as to what she meant, only then realizing, it was simply a matter of her skewed perception on these delicate matters. It must’ve been exceptionally difficult for a member of her species to snap back and forth between uncharacteristic urges and the self-imposed judgment of the same. As if being jerked around by an omnipotent force. Which all led back to the general notion of acceptance, rather than judgment and repression.

“I think it exceptionally prudent that you do.” he reassured, in reference to her issue with having a male counselor – the base issue of her whole condition – and to a lesser extent, also towards a measure of self-control. “You’ll not be able to ease into a normal relationship with members of the opposite sex by being kept away from them.” he stated plainly. That much should’ve been obvious. Likely also why he had been chosen in this task, rather than Commander Hathev or Lieutenant Ashby. “And I think we established: Logic is not all it’s cracked up to be. It helps in assessing the issue factually, but negative emotions can only be dealt with in terms of their positive counterparts.”

For a moment he reveled in Cir’Cie’s internal restraint, that now seemed to come so naturally and with ease, compared to how earlier, she had struggled to retain composure. It was a glorious sight to behold, that sparked a golden glow of pride inside of him that surely too transcended lightly over the telepathic ether. After all, Vulcan’s were susceptible to similar sentiments. “What is it that’s keeping you from following your desires right now?” he prodded, directly, calmly. He didn’t need to know what these desires were, she transmitted a pretty good idea of it, but rather wanted her to dissect the reasoning for not jumping his bones, as it were.

At her next attempt at self-therapy, however, he had to intervene. Not adamantly, or furiously, but distinctly. “I would rather not go down that road, so long as you’re not danger to yourself or the crew. And I don’t think making a crewman’s day, by exercising sexual desires, is cause for disciplinary concern.” He couldn’t exactly see anyone contesting her in that regard. Least he hadn’t unearthed anything to that effect.

“I am sure you’re envious of humans, right now … their ability to come to terms with the power of their more primal notions through years and years of conditioning, growing into balanced adults. You weren’t prepared for that, no matter the mental discipline, not really. That’s a fact. And we won’t catch up decades of growing accustomed to these urges, in one session, that’s a fact too. For now … how about you keep a journal. Whenever you have emotions you find hard to control, I want you two write them down, let them bleed onto the paper. You’ll be occupied through the height of it, and will be able to reflect on them later.” 

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #7 – January 19, 2021, 11:52:15 AM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy

"I think what is stopping me from following my desires is...that sense of Vulcan identity. But I think now I understand...I lost something the day the Niga took me - but...that doesn't mean I can't forge something new out of it. Now I'm realizing this, I fail to understand why I've been in such a state of misdirection for so long..." For a brief moment, the young Vulcan would stride over to the windows of the room they were situated in, her gaze staring out and her eyes would twitch slightly to the left and right as if she were visibly examining the thoughts that were swirling in her mind before suddenly her eyes would widen in the way a scientist might make a dawning realization or discovery - an answer that was always there yet had not been considered.

She would suddenly stride back over to where she was stood previously and then with a light inhale, followed by a moment to ensure she was certain she had the correct words and method of delivery to explain what she had just concluded, she wasted no time in putting forward her hypothesis. "Humans are genetically programmed, but also environmentally conditioned. The same can be said of Vulcans too, but to a far lesser degree. Humans display pure unfiltered potential - they can be anything they desire, if they can figure out how to unlock that potential. A purpose that rings true to them - it is often a deeply emotional, some would say, spiritual awakening. Vulcans don't experience such things...at least to my knowledge. It is a sad truth that in our efforts to control our emotions, we have invoked an evolutionary line that will cause us to become more and more explosive and less and less...flexible as time passes."

Cir'Cie would pace back and forth, as if her musings over the philosophy over Human potential was more so herself addressing and confirming her own thoughts before she would finally turn back to face Stellan. "Everyone of us on this ship has formed, for the most part, a paradigm of behaviour and patterns that reflects the life we have come to know onboard this ship. Simply put...I don't think I can live the paradigm of a conventional Vulcan anymore. Logic would dictate that I should continue in my tasks as the ship's Botanist. To continue performing routinely duties in an orderly manner for the sake of the crew. The needs of the many, outweighing the needs of the few."

With a sharp exhale of indignation, she would briefly glare before her expression would grow soft and once again, she'd stand close to Stellan - not as close as before, but still enough for her lithe figure to be presented before his view.

"A journal...might be useful. It would aid with maintaining my sense of perspective. But I also want to adjust my sense of initiative and reason. If I can show more...enthusiasm. More genuine interest in interacting with the rest of the crew, then hopefully in turn I will gain a stronger sense of purpose throughout it all."

Cir'Cie would smile with a sense of pride, even if that smile only lasted for a mere second. She seemed to have had a breakthrough, as if she had found new ground for her to tread on. She didn't need to feel isolated or afraid of herself...the answer to step forward wasn't something her Vulcan teachings could offer her, but instead...perhaps being more so Human would?

"As for my sexual matters...I think I know a person or two who could use the relief...I understand we're still following the Starfleet model, but we're out here alone. If I can help break that sense of loneliness for someone and get the release I've been denying myself for so long well...its only logical to pursue something like that, isn't it, Counselor?"

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #8 – January 31, 2021, 08:19:49 PM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia
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Stellan could feel a sense of ease and unclenching, transcending from the pretty Vulcan’s mind. A species that was usually wound tighter than a camel in a sandstorm. Listening with growing amusement and pride, as the waterfall of self-assessment bubbled from her plump lips, he should’ve expected that – if anyone – a Vulcan would be able to quickly understand the logical ramifications of their issues. And within find the straightforward tools to remedy them. And while he did not agree word for word, with the realization Cir’Cie came to, he let none of that stop her from following that tangent of understanding. It was like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, staggering around the room, more sure with every step.

“From the midst of it, it’s hardest to see the mess we’re in.” he interjected ever so slightly, reassuring against her notion of confusion.  The capacity of self-delusion was almost as widespread among humanoid races as was their DNA being based on Carbon.

Following along on the tangent on human psychology was an interesting one, though it did skew the lines of patient and therapist quite a bit. But what Stellan had learned through years in this business was that there was hardly ever a right or wrong way to success.  Every mind and every problem was succinctly different. So flexibility was key, as well as keeping one’s own judgment hidden.

“Who is the therapist here again?” the dark-haired man chuckled. “While possibly true, you shalt not worry about the psychological evolutionary stalemate of your species, but your own. As you’ve realized correctly, you’re no traditional Vulcan anymore, which means your own spiritual development is entirely your own.” And that was likely the most valuable gift such a pre-determined species could receive. While not as locked up in ‘egality’ as the Borg, Vulcans too shared a semblance of ‘different’ being undesirable. Anything outside the norm considered to be wrong. Certainly when going by the definition that emotions were what made someone an individual.

“Well, that is not really true in psychology.” Stellan interjected, feeling as if Cir’Cie was once again going down the rabbit-hole of duty and predetermination. After all, he hadn’t expected the decades old skin to shed easily. “Our goal is to work towards a therapy that is best for you, not the greater good. No matter how dire our situation, there is still room for personal improvements and mental health. There has to be. Which is why medical staff has been given superior authority in these subjects.” he explained. “Duties and rituals can be a great way to stay grounded, something to pull yourself along while feeling lost, but they can also hinder your progress if followed religiously. As with all things, it is about a middle ground.”

It was probably a concept still hard to understand for a Vulcan, how rule totalitarian over their senses and emotions. There was only black and white. Grey areas shunned like the plague, and those who dabbled in it, all the same. But overall, the man was quite impressed with the woman’s self-revelation and new-found direction – though being moderately cautious towards the veracity of it all. Both in terms of self-delusion and the Vulcan capacity for telepathic deception. Regardless of that hidden apprehension, he listened to her with external appreciation. “I think increased contact with the crew and a gradual shift of focus away from your duties, a little bit, are a good start.” he agreed, listening to her move on to the more tactile manifestation of her past. Her persistent condition.

“Absolutely, physical release is a vital coping mechanism of the psyche, for various conditions, ranging from loneliness, to stress, to anger.” He added factually, though his voice slightly caught in the back of his throat at the – even for him – sudden change in chemistry, within his office. Though it was nothing that could not easily be hidden among the sense of professionalism, pervasive throughout his dealings with the Ensign.

“Besides, I think we have established you could use the relief too.”

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #9 – February 07, 2021, 08:40:05 AM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy

Despite how coy and casual he was in his delivery of his analysis in regards to his thoughts, Cir'Cie was perceptive enough to read through most of what he had said. Especially towards the end when his voice seemed to convey something he had been trying to hide and this caused her heart to skip somewhat. She would place a hand on her hip and slant her stance to accentuate her curves while looking at him with a stoic glance, during their initial sessions together she had always made it a point in controlling herself around him and there had been a few times in which she had failed, flirted or tried making subtle advances on the young Counselor.

And despite how badly she wanted to act on her newly released desires, she had a strong suspicion that Stellan would turn her advances away. Even with her mind now open, embers of desire that she kept suppressed on a daily basis now free, she would exhale softly and force herself to remain just stood in-front of him, rather than placing herself into his lap. Though he could see how her piercing jade green eyes would trace over his form before finally meeting his deep black orbs.

"I suppose, this is all the time we have for today? I think...I've made good progress. Not the progress I was expecting or hoping for when we first begun these talks but... Yes. There is something about you Stellan, something the other counselors don't seem to offer, and that isn't to discredit them or their method of approach in regards to how they handle the problems presented to them via their patients... I just feel more liberal around you. And I've come to appreciate that, greatly. I hope it is something I will continue to feel long after our sessions are over".

She would trace a hand down over her right side before slanting her stance somewhat, pushing her left hip out against her uniform, her curves now accentuated to his view, using her other hand to flick her short and messy bangs back before she would then follow up by softly asking "That is...unless there is anything else you wanted to discuss? You mentioned increase contact with the crew and my need for release were good places to start." Even with how subtle she was trying to be with her flirting, it was painfully obvious - which was an irony in of itself since she was so good at concealing her emotions yet when she chose to reveal them they came across as blatant. Nonetheless, it didn't start her heartbeat from raising slightly. She had several steamy thoughts of the Counselor before but had always kept them back for the sake of professionalism. But right now she didn't care, and in truth she secretly hoped he felt the same way. However; she was also steeling herself to be chastised or told to have a it less enthusiasm in regards to her new emotional freedom.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #10 – February 18, 2021, 11:22:54 PM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia
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Watching Cir’cie’s body go through the motions like a charmed snake. As if every fiber in her body was pure muscles, individually controlled and poised for only one purpose: To attack quickly, and devour its prey whole. And in a manner of speaking, she was! Stellan could feel his mind washing over with the torrent of her flaming desire. And he had to admit, it was not the worst feeling. It was on one hand nice, to see her relax mentally and let herself go a bit, not worrying too much about duty and etiquette. For as important as these two were, they could temporarily take a backseat in favor of mental healing. And on the other hand, of course he could not deny himself the personal pleasure of sensing those feelings from her, and watching that show. He was only (half) human!

From a strictly physical point of view, there was no reason why he should not be charmed by her, why he should not give into this very pleasant distraction. And while he didn’t really consider duty to do much in terms of holding him back – seriously, he habitually probed into people’s mind without asking, rules weren’t quite for Stellan – he DID take his work and the results seriously enough to not give into every whim just because it would make him feel good. That was probably what truly set him apart from other ‘professionals’ on the ship, who almost viewed their departmental duties as some sort of setup for a random quickie.

In the end, what rubbed his curiosity most, however, was that Cir’cie seriously thought she could get away with it. The physical signals and her rather conscious desires. Even had he not been a telepath, those had been hard to miss. Which was not a judgment, really, as it had been established he enjoyed the sentiment. He certainly appreciated the compliment that followed. It struck him oddly deep and in a place that wasn't often frequented by the touch of others. A part of his ego usually stroked by himself alone in solitude … among other things.

“Well, thank you, Cir’cie.” Stellan replied honestly, a certain sense of awe to his voice, as he nodded pleasantly, for good measure. He really appreciated the sentiment. And just as he wanted to tell her that it didn’t have to end here – as a matter of fact, he didn’t even want it to – the beautiful Vulcan herself sort of admitted she too had no intention to just walk out and let bygones be bygones in this moment. No, they weren’t done, were they.

Flipping his PADD, so that it stood upside in his lap, the man clasped both palms onto its top, keeping it teetering vertically, as black eyes met her emerald hues. “I am sure we both know that’s not what you want to do right now.” he challenged her, a daring glimmer to his eyes, as he looked at her with still a modicum of professionalism. Especially since he could sense what she’d rather want to do.

“Let’s take a moment, come on, sit down again.” he advised gently, a courteous nod towards the chair that still smelled of her heat. “Unless you thoroughly enjoy this whole standing thing … it certainly is working for me.” Okay, maybe not TOO professional. “Say, since we’re all honest and open here, why do you think you’d rather want to sit in my lap, than the chair?” he asked, somewhat coyly.

And while he’d had the desire to make it sound less direct, there were only so many understated vernaculars one could use, before sounding like a total tool and not getting anywhere.

“Not debating why you'd want to sleep with me, we both know that’s part of why we’re talking … well, in general.” Stellan admitted, a gentle flick of his hand on the PADD’s edge accentuating that point. “But more exploring the reasoning why you feel like this would be a good thing to do right now.” Cutting himself off once more, the man did not often find himself at a loss of adequate words, and it showed in his gentle huff.

“Guide me through your motivations …”

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #11 – April 13, 2021, 04:35:26 PM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy]

Giving her Counselor an incredulous look, it was soon followed by the trademark expression of curiosity or uncertainty that a certain Spock used to perform all the time - the tilting of one eyebrow. Regardless, she would pace around a few more times - as if to assert her curves once more to him, the way her Starfleet issued slacks hugged at the vivacious nature of her legs and hips, despite being so lithe and thin compared to most of the other women onboard. She would take her seat and fold one shapely leg up over the other before glancing at the wall on the other side of the room, as if trying to think. He could still feel the promiscuous nature of her psionic aura not letting up, it was like an invisible fire that surrounded her body that only those with more sophisticated brains capable of telepathy or psionic sensitivity could pick up. Completely taken aback by Stellan's sudden heel-turn of an approach in his method of consoling her, she was confounded on how to respond. Was he just flirting with her now? Or trying to test his resolve She could not be certain, but after a few moments of silence, her eyes would sharply turn to glance in his direction and she decided that she would call his bluff.

"It seems curious that you would make presumptions of me rather than statements of guidance or encouragement now that I am making some progress and trying to think more so for myself, rather than allowing myself to be restricted by obligation... Obligation, it is one of the three aspects that holds this ship together, isn't it? I would argue that since we're no longer officially with Starfleet - we hold onto it...a little too much. What has self-restraint and discipline in regards to my sexual behaviour gotten me... Nothing, not really."

Slowly sitting back, her eyes would trace over his form before she noted how he was choosing to hold his P.A.D.D. and this illicited something from her that he might not have expected, or at least, not from a Vulcan. She gave a knowing smirk. "What would my motivations be for attempting to coerce you into having sexual intercourse with myself, Counselor... Other than Obligation, the ship requires Freedom... Freedom to relax and recover, Freedom to break the rules every so often I would possibly say. I suppose the taboo nature of trying to have a man throw his professional sense of duty aside is...arousing to me. Inappropriate perhaps, but arousing nonetheless. Sex after all is for many, an expression of control...a manner of release. I've not had either of those in abundance. And considering our circumstances from being so far away from our respective homes - I would argue that you, among many others on this ship feel the same way. We all have our own ways of finding release... I've decided that seeking it in others is the most...logical way to go about it. It is healthy, strengthens bonds and provides a sense of relief."

Brushing a hand up over her left leg in a suggestive manner she would then flick back her sharp yet small bangs, her smirk fading back into a stoic shelter of neutral expression. "That would be my logical explanation behind it. But simply put-" with a level of quickness that defied the current relaxed, albeit sexually tense air in the room, Cir'Cie quickly leaned forward and yanked the P.A.D.D. from Stellan before setting it betwixt her legs and that devilish smirk came back to her once more.

"Maybe it just feels right. And I think you know that too, I was about to leave, yet you called me back here... So I offer a reprisal in your previous statement: Guide me through your motivations..." her sentence is capped off with her jade green eyes staring intently at him once more. She could feel her heart racing, this was exciting - this game of Cat and Mouse with her Counselor, she knew it was against rank and protocol but at this very moment, she simply did not care.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #12 – May 14, 2021, 11:20:36 AM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia
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Watching Cir’cie sit back down in her chair with all the allure that her tiny frame could muster, one delicate leg gracefully folded over the other, Stellan let a short moment of calm wash over him, at the small victory of keeping her situated beside him. He didn’t quite feel like the session was done yet. And it certainly wasn’t for lack of time. Rather that while their progress had been significant, he wasn’t sure yet whether the resolve would last beyond these doors, or past the next lopsided smirk of a hunky Ensign.

Delving quite a bit into that hypothetical outcome, the man was caught slightly off guard by her reply. As was evident by thick brows rising over the precipice of his ridgeline, settling the pale forehead into generous pleads beneath dark hair. The quick surprise of dealing with a Vulcan, who wasn’t quite as easy to read as a human, fore example, would never cease to excite him. Anticipating a person’s very move was a surefire advantage, but it could also get old very quick. In that very same sentiment, however, he was also moderately confused by the seeming disconnect between her radiant desires and the words spoken.

“Wouldn’t you say it’s only a presumption if it wasn’t based on insight?” he asked sensibly, forehead still in pleads. Though now more sympathetically than surprised. “I am merely stating the impressions I am sensing, asking you to put them into context for me – though predominantly for yourself.”

Maybe that was where the disconnect happened, after all: Cir’cie not even quite understanding these feelings and urges herself. But that’s what he was appointed to guide her through, after all. And it stood to argue that the Ensign had little to no reference what restraint actually looked like. But that wasn’t the kind of judgment helpful to her recovery, so it remained unspoken.

In psychology, there was a term called ‘exposure therapy’, typically employed in the treatment of phobias, but also having proven to be useful in other fields. A method in which a patient was confronted with his systemic issues in a controlled environment, so that the experience could be assessed and discussed afterwards. Applying this theory to the Vulcan, albeit slightly more suggestive than putting a spider on her hand, was potentially a valid way to hold up a mirror to her actions without the repercussions of the reality outside these walls. And hopefully in doing so, the insight would rather come sooner, than later.

Being caught slightly off guard by the quick motion of snatching away not only the PADD, but also a sense of guardedness and distance, Stellan could very well damn that Vulcan mind mere minutes after having praised it for its illusiveness. Yet still that sense of amusement and glee remained over having been surprised by someone, which – as established – wasn’t an everyday occurrence … by a longshot. Yet it did not even end there, as the act was followed by a verbal sparring call.

The counselor was very much aware of his motivations over keeping her from leaving the room. Yet it wasn’t what she thought it was. But the questioned remained whether the truth was always the right thing to say. And in a quick second the man decided, it wasn’t.

“I didn’t think we were done yet.” he replied. Which was both truthful and ambiguous at the same time. Too intrigued by where this was going to be definitive. In all honesty, Stellan realized that it had been mostly Cir’cie talking for the past minute or two. But he also understood it was because he felt like in this moment actions were far more telling. Such as the PADD now fully exposed to the warmth between the woman’s thighs.

“Preparing to follow your earlier motivation by freeing up my lap?”

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #13 – July 06, 2021, 03:39:35 AM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

Cir'Cie was somewhat surprised by Stellan's response, it wasn't one of indignation or shock and this piqued her interest. His words intrigued her and she found herself raising an eyebrow of inquiry - but her expression was one of slight sexual interest. She would slowly stand forth from her seat and then walk to where her Counselor was sat. Once she was stood before him, she let her piercing eyes stare into his dark mysterious orbs for a moment until she decided to call his bluff.

Deftly slinking onto his lap, rather than sit on him, she chose to straddle him - being deliberate in how she would allow the supple and soft fabric covered frame of her rear brush over his thighs before firmly placing his nether regions betwixt her legs and she would then offer him the PADD, holding it just above and between her breasts while keeping her eyes fixed on his. "At your suggestion, it does seem like a logical thing to do..." she would finally say, answering his last question. Exhaling through her nostrils with a level of feral excitement, her stoic expression did little to hide the sexual tension she was feeling with him, be it all imagined in her head or not. The risk was worth it, part of her wondered if Stellan was playing mind games with her, if this was just some part of his strategy to get to realize that, despite her progress in coming to terms with herself, she wasn't that in control of herself as she had made out before.

Regardless, she had made her move - be it the right one or not, she waited to see how Stellan would react to her advancement.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #14 – July 27, 2021, 10:34:23 AM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia
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Alright, so maybe Stellan’s judgment was a little bit clouded, when he contemplated the certain possibility of impending sexual relations with the Vulcan, as a mere extension of his therapeutic approach. Of course, there were different approaches to healing a broken and mind and the terminology of getting someone to “feel comfortable”, first and foremost, was a pretty ambiguous one.
But as he was too a red-blooded man, aside of being a therapist, millions of years of preconditioned evolution were currently working against him and his strong mind. Physical reactions, such as the raising of his blood pressure and cardiac activity, overrode any conscious decisions he could make. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t having a front row seat through all these shenanigans. He was merely sitting back and relax, while the autopilot took over for a while.

As Cir’cie climbed into his lap, straddling him like a rampant bull swaddled docile in between her magnificent thighs, a lop-sided smirk transplanted onto his thin lips. One that was far more self-conscious than the heat emanating from his skin as the blood streamed violently beneath.

“Logical, eh?” his raspy voice managed to shave off the brimstone that were his vocal cords this minute. Letting a gulp of moisture wash down the dry membranes of his esophagus the man brushed his lips together in astute anticipation. Her own, much fuller cushions, glimmering flesh in the diffuse light cast onto her beautiful face, like slices of juicy peach on a summer morning. And he couldn’t quite wait to sink his teeth into it and savor the sweet nectar of her burgeoning passion. A thirst growing that wasn’t at all literal, but rather the kind of longing that only befell the lonely.

Letting his hands fall gently onto the voluptuous curves of her hips, fingers coming to rest onto the soft fabric lading down her posterior, Stellan had to admit they were in quite a comfortable situation. He could see the glimmer of a new day, a new page being turned, just as he scanned the subtle hues in her irises, like an explorer flying over the lush green of the amazon. Merely catching a glimpse of the feral wilderness beneath the green canopy of shifting greens. An entire world shielded from the judgment and influence of the outside world. And he couldn’t wait to be the first one to truly venture into it … personally and professionally.

At any rate, he was confident enough in his abilities, both personally and professionally, to guide this encounter into one that would eventually be satisfying. Even if he would let her be in control. After all, for a telepath an encounter like this was experienced not only through one’s own mind.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #15 – August 08, 2021, 03:49:36 AM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

It was here now, with the lithe and model-esque like Vulcan who sat astride upon his lap, the outline of her womanhood teasingly rested upon his girth, that he began to realize why these people had adopted the word 'Vulcan' for their race name. For while her exterior demonstrated a stoic calmness that would infer a serenity unattainable by most, the aura coming forth from her being showed otherwise. Her libido was raging like the fires within a magma chamber just waiting to dispense its contents out upon the world for all to see - and very much so, even if this room was being monitored and recorded by either Stellan's own instruments or Thea's ever-watchful eye, the burning sensation between her legs and the ever increasing flow of hormones through her body and mind were throwing caution to the wind. With a level of skill akin to a Risian entertainer or Orion dancer, she would lean forward to brush her lips against his own before giving a soft nip - the heat of her breath steaming his glasses somewhat as she started to roll and gyrate her hips. Her movements were slow, erotic, teasing and very deliberate, the fabric of their Starfleet issue pants being so tight they did very little to stop her heat brushing over his girth.

"Logic is the technique by which we add conviction to truth...And the truth of it is, I think all these talks about sexual responsibility with one another has lead to a tension between us that is threatening to...change our position from Counselor and Patient to something more... There is a level of taboo to this predicament that...makes it difficult to want to walk away..."

And still her hip rolling continues as she brushes and grinds against him, casually tossing the PADD aside before placing her dainty hands upon his shoulders, her gaze never leaving his own. The other side of her being was winning out in this instance, that psychological splinter in her mind that manifested itself as a whore born of the Niga's ministrations upon her being all those motnhs ago, it was a thing that needed feeding and right now it wanted him. She would push and press what bust she had into his chest and brush her lips along his neck before exhaling sharply, trying to break weeks of professionalism with the temptation and offering of her bronze curves and the nectar that lay between her legs.

It seemed as if she was testing his will or his resolve, she herself conflicted as part of her knew this wasn't right, and yet another part of her simply did not care, her libido was overpowering her sense of reason and what would happen next would fall down to Stellan.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #16 – August 15, 2021, 08:40:26 AM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia 
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As Cir’Cie began to roll her hips into his increasingly tense lap, like a skilled baker would relentlessly knead the dough into a hard marble countertop, Stellan couldn’t help but feel his metaphorical mouth water, for the dish that was being prepared right before his eyes. The chemistry that was being added to, ingredient by ingredient, until the mixture would blossom with the most exquisite flavors, in perfect equilibrium. He couldn’t help but wonder in this instance, whether the Vulcan’s skill was inherent to her species, acquired by her as a person, or instilled alongside the psychological compulsion she felt to follow her more carnal desires in the aftermath of her infection. For there was actually a medical condition, where people felt symptoms all the same, long after the illness was already cured. Especially if it had become such an integral part of their lives.

But the truth of the matter was, there existed a stark distinction between addiction and giving into cravings. For where addiction meant, that one would create situations beneficial to their needs at all costs, a healthy person would still act on situations presenting themselves naturally. And this was, what this was. He had sensed that Cir’Cie had not come here with the intent to sleep with him. Nor had she manipulated the session in a way where this was possible now. Which was where his telepathic abilities gave him the tools to discern that this was different. And that unbeknownst to her, the Ensign had already proven that at the very least this, if not all, her sexual excursions were mere testament to a more human approach to sexuality than her genetics would imply. Rather than a compromission of her hereditary psychology.

As Stellan understood, the Vulcan mating period was not necessarily biological, but rather encouraged and enforced by a strict ritualistic repression of emotions, which eventually had to surface once every seven years like a magma chamber, building up too much pressure. In that sense it was a cultural phenomenon, and stigma, rather than a medical condition. Even though it certainly had its physiological effects. Yet, if he could show Cir’Cie that this interaction, if it went through, would not be an issue with negative ramifications, than by the rules of positive affirmation it should help alleviate residual doubts about her condition being quite normal and explainable. There had been plenty of documented cases where isolated Vulcans, who would not follow a rigorous meditation regimen, would develop a sex-life more akin to most other intelligent species.

That was if they didn’t turn into bloodthirsty vampires, of course.

The woman’s verbalization of her rationalization was cute, but if only at the skill of his telepathy, entirely unnecessary. Of course, Stellan understood the appeal of taboo, the attraction of the female warmth. He wouldn’t be in this position if he didn’t. He wouldn’t be reacting in such obvious physical ways if his biological makeup wasn’t designed to do so.

Switching the small controller at the bottom of his evaluation sheet, while contorted in her straddle, the counselor indicated to the system that the session was over. All regular surveillance and recording would stop – aside of Thea’s routine overwatch, of course. But unless a singularity would form in the midst of the counseling suite, the ship’s AI would not notice. And no matter how much virility and passion he would subscribe to the slender brunette, to conjure such a large void, he had to realistically assume she was not capable of doing just that.

Then again, she had been ‘busy’.

Letting the PADD being snatched from his feeble, awkward grip, just as he had leveled the field for them to roll around in its flowering meadow, a mischievous grin transplanted to his thin lips, making the patchy scruff around his mouth move like a cornfield in the wind. Sucking in the residue of her sweet sugarplum kiss on his lips, the Lieutenant squeezed the top of her dainty derriere habitually. Letting the firm flesh fill his fists like the luscious dough that begged for a rolling pin in its midst to take this recipe of theirs to the next level of culinary delight.

The fact that he was getting hungry by the minute, and not only her sweet nectar taste, being only a momentary concern. Yet still, as her counselor and a gentleman, he was only here to react and play off her actions. It was not his nature in either capacity to initiate. But that didn’t mean verbally teasing wasn’t very well in his wheelhouse.

“Is it that time of the decade already?!” he thus grumbled quietly, the words rattling against his vocal cords like powerful boulders.

And even if his verbal prompts weren’t obvious enough, the tension growing in his groins, pushing against her demanding gyrations, was growing to be rather conspicuous.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #17 – October 22, 2021, 05:10:48 PM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

Hearing her Counselor's question delivered with a level of incredulous disbelief, barely held back in restraint by the power of his voice and the circumstances he found himself in, Cir'Cie would lean back away from his face and look at him with those piercing jade green eyes of hers, an expression of annoyance that quickly turned into a wry before settling into a minor yet noticeable smirk. She would grind and roll her hips several times with rapid insistence, being deliberate to caress the turgid rod that now outlined the Lieutenant's slacks. "My last experience with the Pon Farr occured when I was just sixteen years of age, fortunate for the pair of us that I'm no longer that young..." She could feel it; she was so close to obtaining that which her body was craving, that a portion of her mind was demanding she obtain right now. Yet she could sense the hesitance on Stellan's part and it made a spark of anger course through her, he was not trying to summon security and indeed he had shut down the surveillance to the Counselling room they were currently within.

So why was he only content in just touching her, why didn't he make a real move?

Being able to quell that animalistic rage that all Vulcans harbor within themselves, especially when they are threatened by the consumption of carnal lust, she would exhale heavily and with great reluctance - remove herself from his lap, only to lower herself down onto the floor. Her hands would glide and roll up over his calves before snaking over his thighs as if they were appendages belonging to the Niga plant itself. In all of this, her eyes never once left his own.

"I get the feeling this is a test of some kind, truly I want to indulge in what is being presented here... But seeing as you're content in sitting back, perhaps I should...what was that Human expression?" she would pause for a moment, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement before then slowly standing up and saying "Put my cards on the table."

Emitting an exhale, Cir'Cie would stand up and then start to remove her clothing. Given the nature of the uniforms they had to wear on a daily basis and their simple design - she found it both easy and swift in removing her form fitting jacket and the undertunic that lied beneath, her bronze skin glistening somewhat in the lighting of the room before she set to removing her slacks with ease once the belt had been discarded.

Standing before Stellan in just her underwear - she watched him intently, putting her hands upon her lithe hips. It was at this point Cir'Cie realized this was more than just a tense situation spiraling out of hand, and it was most certainly more than just mutual carnal want that had built up as the result of a few weeks of casual yet thought provoking sexual discussion. It was a mind game was much as it was a physical one, and she intended to make Stellan play it properly.

Giving a slow twirl to show off her sumptuous yet nubile form, the light carefully dancing over what curves she did have, showing off her youthful frame with only the level of clarity the lights onboard a Federal starship could offer, she then gave Stellan a soft yet challenging stare as if to say 'Your move.'

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #18 – November 08, 2021, 09:57:05 PM

[ Lt. Foster | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @UltimaImperatrixia
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Stellan could feel Cir’cie’s apprehension on the wind, like ripe oranges in the golden warmth of autumn, back on his home planet. A sweet ether, dancing along on nothingness with ethereal ease, like heralding fairies on angel dust. Melodical trumpets, executing distant fanfares, forewarning of an impending doom. For that confusion sparked into anger, like a lover’s fervor could grow into ire, at the precipice of affection unrequited. As had never been his intent. In the school of navigating the waters of manhood, trying to ship around the pitfalls of his gender, the physical as well as mental shortcomings and predispositions, his guiding star of intent had always been to stay passive in the pursuit of his own longings. To steer clear of passion guided acts of oppression or coercion, focusing his inherited vileness rather on avenues of the mind and body, that cast him unfavorably as a human, not a man. It was the one of the things he had internalized through his father, over the years, or more precisely through striving for the opposite. Especially in light of how his mother and stepmothers had been treated by the man.

But he still did not want for his self-imposed chastity to confuse or enrage someone, when his deeper intent was actually quite in line with what was presented to him in terms of prospect. Thus, his brows furrowed lightly, drawing together in a knot of skin, above the sculpted architecture of his nose bridge, as she interpreted his passiveness as a test of her dedication. As if a little kitten, goaded along by a mouse on a string. Which was far from the reality, yet so endearingly close to a thrilling ploy, the man did not immediately contemplate to rectify the misunderstanding. If only out of the sheer carnal desire to see where the avenue of ‘proving herself’ would push the leggy brunette to. Which was part of his lesser reputable humanity at play, for sure. But he was certainly all game for putting ‘the cards on the table’. Even more so with no intention of his own to fail doing the same.

A gentle smile casting over lithe lips, Stellan subconsciously nibbled at the inside perimeter of his labial skin, tucking gently at the soft tissue as if it was a lover’s flesh. All while obsidian orbs roamed the revealing statuesque of alabaster stone like a marvel of the ancient world being revealed from a burlap sack, it had been stored away in obscurity for centuries. Her beauty and allure coming to light as if hidden from the world in eons, radiating from every curve and delicate line, every cast shadow and every specular glow. Betrothing the experience with almost an artistic observation, rather than the potentially lascivious disregard of duty that it could be interpreted at. Yet in his reticence and deliberation he also proved to her that following her more physical urges and sexual desires, was not necessarily an act of emotional impulse. Certainly not always a herald from the dark times the Niga virus held a firm grip on her. Just because something had been taking from one’s own will, didn’t mean it would forever be signified by such loss of control, but it could indeed be reclaimed.

And she was doing so, with every deliberate motion, every coherent thought he could sense from her. Cir’cie knew what she wanted; it was as clear a path as was the delicate glen running down the center of her trim abdominal meadow. Dipping into the pond of her navel ever so coltishly, before vanishing in the delicate cover of her underwear. He didn’t think she realized it yet, but this tender back and forth, these moments of consideration and deep thought, were what separated an instinct – or the perversion thereof – and a self-determined pleasure one allowed themselves. So, there was no reason in cutting this tangent short, without following the revelation all the way through, to its ultimate culmination.

That in mind, the tall mand stood up slowly, teetering on the heels of his feet, as if blood pressure played catchup. Bringing his hands to the precipice of his collar, he gingerly pulled the zipper down, every click and every pop like a gunshot in the night, as the black fabric gave way to a teal canvas, upon which imagination and light drew the contours of his muscular torso. Ushering the jacket off his broad shoulders, aiding its restricted way off sturdy arms, the man’s dark ponds never left their basil-colored counterparts. In doing so, strong hands soon pulled the colorful tunic from their warm confines in his waistband, like a flag breaking rom its pole in a storm, revealing gentle crevices on his skin, where it stretched over the underlying frame of muscles, like water over a stony creek. A coy trail of hairs, like a flock of antelopes in the Serengeti, coyly congregating towards the lush valleys of the south, from the dried-out watering hole the leaped from.

In one swift pull, he raised the shirt over his head, arms crossing skillfully like a scissor, while the fabric twisted and turned, as it slipped off his body like the veil of darkness from hillside pastures, in the wake of a new day. Accentuating the inverted trapeze of his upper body, as his latissimus drew forward, creating more and more delicate mounds and valleys, on his pale skin. Ever moving and changing, like dunes in a desert. Leaving his lissome, dark hair slightly disheveled, as well as his glasses crooked, the piece of clothing fell from his hand to the floor as well, while the chill air of the room stiffened his flesh. Arms falling relaxed at his side, shoulders like meaty pinheads, rolling in the joints at the upper perimeter of his torso. Taking a step forward eventually, feeling every molecule of air parading past his skin with cold delight, the man’s warm palms eventually came to land on the Vulcan’s tender skin, as it stretched flawlessly around her slender arms. He held her there, delicately, while dipping his head slightly to the side, slowly bridging the gap of abject resistance in the physics between them.

Dark moons shining upon forests in the night, he held her gaze like a token of trust and devotion, only letting the veil of darkness cast over each their perceptions once the precipice of desire sparked like fireworks from the touch of their lips upon one another. His scruff prickling against her silky skin like bubbles on the surface of a fizzy drink. His moist blankets cast across her plump pillows like a safe haven they built for themselves to revel in. A moment of safe complacency taking hold of doubts and trepidations, driving forth a measure of recuperation, that may have been possible by traditional means, but had been guided by fate towards a more blissful therapy, that Stellan did not mind one bit. And by way of his telepathic abilities, he figured as much was the case for the woman now flowing velvet, in his strong arms.

Re: Day 34 [1100 hrs.] Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Reply #19 – November 29, 2021, 10:56:19 AM

[ Ensign Cir'Cie | Counseling Department Offices| Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

With her soft and nubile bronzed frame now pressing softly against the chiseled and fine masculine form of Stellan's body - her eyes would open in surprise, for now their minds were also practically touching. And for the briefest of moments, Cir'Cie felt her own mind entering a state of calmness, the discipline and pure intent of Stellan's mind reaching into her own, causing her to exhale softly and slowly trace her dainty fingers across his broad chest and well sculpted sides, a sense of serenity briefly being felt emanating from her psyche and she would give him a light smile before leaning up to press the sumptuous curve of her lips into his own so that they might share a tender and soft kiss of understanding through genuine sexual attraction, rather than wanton lust and abandon.

It was such a curious thing for Cir'Cie, being a young Vulcan - this was her first kiss that had ever held any meaning to it. Any real sense of feeling wanted genuinely and truly, for who she actually was. The level of understanding and the tenderness that was being communicated through this singular kiss allowed her to experience a level of calm and bliss that she had not felt since before the incident in the Mahéwa system. And naturally, she wanted to feel more of this exciting yet re-assuring feeling that one gets when fully trusting another in an emotional and sexually delicate situation.

Brushing and caressing her shapely legs against his own, she would carefully guide the tumescence that laid within his briefs to nestle sharply between her legs, letting the fabric covered outline of her flower brush and caress into him with a manner of intent and teasing. In doing so something would spark within Cir'Cie's own mind, that sense of anger and impatience he had felt before - her hands which had been so delicate in how they had chosen to explore and sweep over Stellan's body like diligent rovers seeking new life on a smooth hardened land, now began to scratch lightly. Sharp pangs of lust and intoxicating fumes of concupiscence would reach out to touch his mind, promising sweet and hot pleasure of a voracious kind that romance and affection simply could not offer.

Cir'Cie decided this was it, now or never, and she would begin to push at her briefs, letting them slip further and further down her taut and slender legs, the pelvic lines dipping further and further in what little light there was until finally her slit was now fully exposed to the sterile air of the room, kicking her panties aside, she wasted no time in pressing the attack. Her tongue would lash and flicker over its opponent, like a pair of fencers in motion, it was now a kiss of fiery need.

Pushing Stellan back down into his seat before once again straddling his lap, only this time with much more intent as the soft expression in her eyes was now replaced with the predatory gaze of an animal chasing its prey, now she was on top of him and once more rolling her toned derriere, putting the right level of motion into her hips to grind and graze against his groin while she kissed him in a feverish and needy manner - and the more she threw herself at him, the more her mind opened up until finally the scar that which the Niga had left upon her could not only be seen but felt. A Pandora's Box that Cir'Cie had mostly kept shut and locked tight with her teachings of Surak, self-discipline and the various platitudes and suggestions of logic and reason needed to keep the scar in check, to keep that surging libido that she now lived with and struggled with on a daily basis. And it was now to be shared with him, pain and salaciousness in full.

In all of this now, was the full extent of what was wrong with this woman fully brought to bare. She wasn't simply experiencing sexual addiction, or chasing a new life style after an emotional overload in an encounter, no it was much more. For the Vulcan mind was extremely susceptible to being altered after mental trauma, taking on physical results. Results that could worsen over time and in this case, a shadow had fallen upon Cir'Cie, an animalistic mnemonic impression she had inherited from the lush green valley of death that spawned the first plague on the Theurgy all those months ago.

And now Stellan would have to either push Cir'Cie away or relish in this lust driven anguish with her.

-FIN