[ Lt Carrigan Trent | Quarters | USS Theurgy ]
To his great irritation, the Betazoid did not rise to the bait of discussion, simply giving his comments and rights to better treatment a blanket dismissal under the argument that he'd read all the reports and made his own call on the contents. Not even acknowledging how Ives, perhaps even Dewitt, might have altered the reports! Surely that was not beyond them, framing him as the two had even though he was in the right of it. He would not put anything past Dewitt, but the greatest betrayal was in how Ives had taken her side.
When Trent came aboard, he'd sacrificed everything for the Theurgy and her mission, for Jien and the crew, when he unleashed the virus upon the Archeron and the subspace sensor network that ran through the whole task force. Career suicide, sacrificing countless lives of Ops personnel in the shuttle bays, and painted a target on his own back. For what? This?
In the end, Trent found nothing to say, and made no comment when he was rebuked, remaining silent until Commander Ducote asked of his requirements of personnel to carry out his tasks. He paused in silence, perhaps for effect, but just as much to try - against his wishes - to dismiss his concerns about Dewitt and the way he'd been slandered left and right by lower ranking officers that didn't have the experience and fortitude that he had. He felt like a sacrificial lamb which had been gutted to quell the hurt feelings of the Bellerophon crew. While he didn't say it, knowing it might not be entirely justified, he did feel that since he could see through Sankolov, then every single soul in the Infested's task force could have done the same.
"I would like Selena Ravenholm, provisional warrant officer and encryption specialist, to report directly to me and make herself available as soon as possible. Furthermore I would need Thea's personal projection at a minimum of three hours per day, as well as a minimum of ten security officers of high qualifications that can be my eyes and ears down on Aldea. Moreover, I need Dewitt as well as Zyrao Natauna to submit all reports to me, and make their scheduled duties available to my purview. I also need one flight of Lone Wolves - that's four of them - to do recon on my behalf, following up any leads I may have on threats in the Epsilon Mynos System and without. Also, a minimum of two CONN officers on standby at all times. Moreover, I need officers that have experience with undercover duties to investigate the old safehouses that Captain Ives left behind in the city, since my own training is woefully inadequate in that regard. I need the Science department to dedicate a minimum of two officers to enhance the particle sensor suite that Ensign ch'Xinya built, and also build new Tovarek-class drones, fitted with Aldean sensor scramblers."
Carrigan shifted in his seat and continued in his quiet voice. "This is just what's at the top of my head, but I will send you the full list of what I need, in hope that the rest is just as reasonable."
Boldness tended to take you quite far...
[Lt. Zephyr Praise | Commanding Klingon | This Bucket of Bolts | Is This Real? | How Are We Even Moving]
@Zodiac @fiendfall @Numen @Stegro88
The night had been spent well enough. Sleeping beside her mate, was normal, like always. Though the bunk was much smaller than the bed they shared. Curled up in his arms, his chin on top of her head, she had slept with the rumble of his lungs in her ears all night. The thrum of his two hearts against her ears. He had been warm, and safe, and comfortable. She loved him and he loved her, though her heart ached for the issues that she had experienced recently with Ravon. She didn't want them, she wanted him to be her friend, she wanted to be someone in her life but he had made it absolutely clear that it was not what he wanted to do. So, she found herself embracing the Klingon in her life even more so and doing whatever life threw at her. Leaving Ravon to his own devices as she wasn't really sure what she wanted to do there and it seemed he needed time to sort his things out. He had a lot of anger in him and that was something she didn't think she could help with.
When it came time for Bridge duty, she had donned her Klingon uniform that had been beside her shared bunk and told Khorin that maybe she could keep it. The glare in his eyes told her that he found it quite attractive but she was in no way ready to do anything like that. Here, she would want to behave as much as possible they were all too close together for anything else. Besides, that kind of build up in his system would have a great payout later.
On the Bridge, they had been going for a while. Zephyr was in the main seat since she was the ranking officer on the Bridge and she needed to be able to keep tabs on what was going on around her. Hazel green eyes flicking back and forth through to her officers and taking in all their reports on her own console so that she could get whatever information was being given. Looking up as the Captain entered the Bridge, his heavy footfalls and his stout mind as prelude to his actual arrival. She twisted in her seat to see him coming up from behind. Her brow rose as he addressed her and all the other officers began to chime in. She gave the Captain a bit of a warm smile.
"Nothing yet, but we're quite close to our destination. What are the plans once we have arrived?" she asked curiously staying in her seat, as she saw no real reason to move unless he wanted it for himself. Then she could sit in the Science seat.
----------sorry it's short guys I couldn't come up with anything else. -------------
Last post by BZ -
[Albert Tiran | Attempting to Work | Yes, That is Me | Haters Gonna Hate | Spell it With me Now: A. L. B. E. R. T.]
[My designation, given by Commander Tiran, is Albert Tiran. When I gained sapience, I accepted it as my moniker because it was already familiar to myself.]
Albert shifted himself from the flight path that he had been on to go help another officer, and instead perched himself on the back of one of the chairs which was assigned to a console. No one was currently assigned to the spot and so the seat was all his for the time being. His optical sensors took in the Chief as he asked a nearby officer what he had thought Albert would look like. Something that resembled an optical sensors in it's own right but flying. Apparently, this other officer had said that he could look like that but it didn't mean that he did.
[Commander Tiran, created my visage in the likeness of an Earth owl.]
The Master Chief turned over towards zh'Ron and asked if she had been introduced to Albert when he entered Main Engineering. The eyes on the Andorian woman got quite large for the moment as she looked over at him. "Well.... I mean.. I .. he.. he might not have.."
[To belay further misunderstandings, I can pull up the audio and video feed of my conversation with the Ensign if you wish.] he stated calmly.
Zh'Ron looked up and shook her head. "He... introduced himself but I don't see why the fuck I should have to work for some toy that our new Chief created. And furthermore, how does she get the job you were fucking doing just fine before she just showed up with her bitchy attitude and took it over? I don't like the changes here, we were just fine we didn't need new leadership or anything like that."
[I am afraid chain of co-]
"I didn't fucking ask you!" zh'Ron said to the owl angrily.
[LCdr Blue Tiran | Family is Shit | Family is Everything | Family is- | Ducote is Family]
Blue was cautious. Because she was pretty fucking sure that while Hathev sat there calmly and explained that she understood the sentiments behind what Blue was telling her, she was full of shit. There was no way that anyone that hadn't been through the level of shit that Blue had would understand. Even then, it wasn't just the shit was the age the shit had fallen all around her. It was all well and good that she was trying to allay Blue's fears that she would understand there was not one fucking thing that was sacred in her life, not one thing that remained untarnished by some serious fucking shit. Even Ranaan, though she was getting over the fact that he survived while she suffered, only because she knew that he had suffered in a different but still profound way. Still, nothing in her life was completely untarnished and it was hard for her to really enjoy much of anything.
However, she was glad that there was nothing she had to answer, it was all just what she was willing to answer, she had heard that shit before. Blue knew that at some point they were going to get into the shit that she didn't want to think about, that she didn't want to talk about, that she didn't want to feel. Part of her hoped that she would be able to actually take care of it this time, there was always the hope though. She wanted to talk about some of it, but she wasn't sure how. Ranaan knew a lot, he knew more than anyone else in her entire life had, and.. his mother probably knew more than she let on because of her empathic skills.
And now I'm never going to see Ratela again. she thought remembering the way that she had kind of stepped into the 'mom' roll that Blue had never felt that she needed. But with her there, she was so good at just making her feel at ease. The way that she kept Erich in check with just a bit of a look, the way that she constantly felt warm. There was a warmth there, that Blue could not remember getting from her own parents.
Hathev broke into her thoughts asking how she felt about family. What it meant to her, as a whole, as a word, as a concept. Why was Cross and Ducote part of her own created family. Blue sat there for a long moment as she thought about what it meant to her. There was so many conflicting emotions when she mentioned family. She paused in her twinkie consumption as she looked down at her pant leg and picked heavily at the fabric there. There wasn't any loose strings to pick at for the moment, but she was picking at it anyway.
"Family is .. mother fucking shit." she whispered, just a little bit over a whisper, but very quiet. "They birth you, and they're supposed to take fucking care of you, and then when shit goes badly they-" she shut her trap and she gave out a long sigh.
"Family is supposed to be there for you. When shit gets real, they're there. They wait for you, and care for you, and do shit for you. They're the kind of people that it doesn't matter if you're a bitch or having a bad day because they're going to accept you no matter what because you are a person worth some fucking thing." she stated almost angrily so there was obviously some history there, some anger in there that was still resonating heavily with the young Chief Engineer.
She bit her lower lip. She had asked why Cross and Ducote were in her family. It was so fucking hard for her to get family, for her to do whatever it was that was necessary. To let them in, and trust them, to be vulnerable around them. She thought about them. "Ranaan." Her voice was filled with her love for him, just rolling off the syllables of his name. She pulled her knees up to her chest, closing herself off body wise to Hathev as she lay her head on her knees. The vibrant blue and black curls spilled over and around her legs.
"When I met him, everything .. just... changed. He saw me, not the me that I give to everyone else. Not the bitch that has severely talented at keeping everyone the fuck away from me. But, inside. The shit I hide. I realized later it was probably because of his empathy even though he thinks it's shit and he has no talent its just because he has no fucking confidence in it. Anyway... he listened to me, and talked to me, and ... we teased each other. There was attraction and there was acceptance. Even on the Endeavour, I can't count the amount of times I have been brig'd for doing shit people fucking deserved. He is always fucking there. He doesn't get me out, or anything, I'm fine with serving my time and getting yet another beautiful dark mark on my ever darkening folder, but... this is different. He still accepts me when I get home. He always does, no matter what."
She spoke with such gentle tones in her voice. She brushed her hand through her hair and she gave a sigh. "Cross. Cross was there when I fell apart." Blue wasn't looking at Hathev, she was staring out on her own, straight across the room, and her voice broke slightly. "He was dead. Ranaan. As we left, the ship.. the Endeavour exploded and he was... he was dead. At least.. that was what I thought. The whole time we were on the Ver.." her voice broke more. "...sant. He was dead. He is.. was.. everything. My air, my light... everything. And he was gone, and I was on that fucking hell ship... Cross was there. We fought together, we talked together, we slept beside each other. When I needed someone to lean on, when I needed a boost... there was Cross."
Did she pity Cross. "What?" Blue looked up and her eyes that had softened, rehardened again. "Fuck no. He is a friend, a brother, someone that I can count on when things get shit. I don't pity him at all, he doesn't need pity."
When she brought up Ranaan and how she might be misreading the pity in his eyes for just general care and concern for his love. She swallowed heavily and thought about it. Her eyes stared down at the table that was between them. She drummed her fingers on her knee. "Maybe. It's hard to read him sometimes. I know he might... feel bad because of all the shit on the Versant, but.. but in the same way.. I just... maybe I'm worried that he feels that way. That I'm just a fucking burden, but I always feel like a fucking burden. Like .. sometimes I don't know why the fuck he is even with me. I'm totally wrong for him. He needs someone kind, and warm and fucking... like... wholesome.. Then there is me, and I'm like... wrong, and I break all the fucking rules, and I'm always fucking working. I forget to eat, I forget to sleep, I forget all kinds of shit but... but .. he is there anyway. Maybe you're right... maybe I feel my own pity and I'm like making it seem like it's his but .. I don't fucking know. When it comes to Ranaan I don't know if I always see clearly."
She swallowed and looked up at Hathev. "Is that.. normal?"
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @DaValle @BZ
The engine room bustled about with far more activity than she had seen in some time. The ranks were filling back out, thought Natalie had to admit that the methods of 'recruitment' were far from the norm. She'd been brought up to speed by Captain Ives upon their return, that a number of new officers were going to show up over the course of the next few days, having been sent on by their new contact at Starfleet.
But most of the new faces she saw in Main Engineering were from the Endeavour, mostly, or refugees from the other ships that had crossed in the Theurgy's wake. That many of those had come from ships that her own had sparred with, and left the worse for ware was...regrettable. She had a few new Ops Officers in that boat, and had come down to check in on things here with Lt. Commander Tiran on similar matters of crew integration. Of course, that meant integrating with the aforementioned Lt. Commander Tiran was...an unfortunate side effect. She would have to get along, she knew. For the crews' sake, for Captain Ives, and for her own sanity. Plus there was the owl...
Natalie had not yet had the chance to interact with the little AI and had idly wondered if she might see the creature on her trip to the engine room. She wasn't here just to see Blue. As the ships Second Officer she'd started to make wider rounds each day, dropping into different parts of the ship. Today she decided that she needed to be here anyways, this might as well be her destination. And there was the fact that Billy Bob had been on hand, and she'd paused to say hello and make sure that he was well.
It was impossible not to like the soft spoken Master Chief, and she had privately wanted to make sure he was happy being back with his engines and not responsible for the entire ship. Satisfied there, at least, she had just the time to turn and discover a strange looking alien man striding across toward Blue's empty office, with a long trench coat on. Not at all standard uniform, but Natalie simple crossed her arms under her bust and watched from the moment, as the man seemed to walk with a purpose. Security was as tight as could be, so she wasn't immediately worried about an intruder. but she did see a few of the other engineers reaching, here and there, for a spare hyper-spanner or plasma torch, just in case. Far too many of them had seen mutiny aboard in the past, and while the crews were working hard to see themselves as 'one crew' and not a smattering collection, it was not as easy a process as she or anyone wished, and there was more than a little suspsicion to go around. TIme would tell, of course.
And if that isn't both heartening and heart wrenching all at once, I don't know what is, she reflected, watching the mans fruitless quest for a meeting with the infamous 'blue menace' (an unfortunate nickname that had managed to crop up, despite the good work the new Chief Engineer was doing. Nat would have to put a stop to it if she could). There was, she reflected ironically, never a dull moment on this ship. This thought promptly bit her in her skirted ass as the man turned and alighted upon Natalie herself, seeing her from where she watched, and made a bee line for her. Oh, hell.
He snapped to attention and saluted, and Natalie was taken wholly aback, not at all comfortable with the formality of the gesture that she blinked in surprise, her arms loosening. His behavior and dress made him a newcomer in every way and form, and Natalie struggled for a moment to process. There was something familiar about the man's features - or more his species features. She had seen his kind somewhere, though she did not remember precisely where. She knew that the race had to be something out of the ordinary for her to even have a trace memory of it standing out.
"At ease," she ordered first, waving off the salute with a flick of her wrist, and putting a smile on. More than one Starfleet officer had started their career somewhere else, in the service of another government, and more often than naught a more strictly organized form of military. And then again, those that came into the fleet during the Dominion War, serving on the front lines, tended toward a more strict accounting of themselves, even seven years after the fact. That Natalie did not was something of a surprise for many of her graduating class.
She hadn't been in the thick of the fighting though. No, she just had the Borg to deal with, most recently, and before that the Klingons, the Asuarian's, the infested...
"I'm afraid you're in the same boat as me," she continued, stepping forward as she spoke, unable to see a marking of rank from where sh was, or how the trench coat lay on his frame. She had to look up at him, because of course she did. Once again she reflected on just how annoying it was to be short. Little to be done about it however. Instead, she continued on, smile in place.
"I'm here to see the Lieutenant Commander myself and do a bit of a check in to see how she's managing. I'm Lt. Commander Stark," she said by way of introduction, having done this a few times by now, and throwing most military decorum out the window, extended her hand in the classic of human greetings, knowing not this man's culture, adding, "Chief of Operations and ships second officer. Welcome aboard the Theurgy, Mister...?" And there she let her voice trail off. She did not know who he was and was not on hand just to welcome him aboard, though both she and Commander Ducote would be doing plenty of that as the supposed supplemental personnel that they had been promised trickled in. She now wondered just how this man had got aboard, and would certainly do a read through of his file, as she was the one to meet him first.
[ Lieutenant Commander Jennifer Dewitt | Aldean Spa & Resort | Ibai Besi | Aldea ] Attn: @Brutus
The day had been entirely too long, and having all the knots and stresses rubbed out made Jennifer feel detached from reality. So she lowered her face back in its cradle, and breathed heavily in enjoyment - lips pursed and eyes shut. The amount of oil that Lanar was using was far more than she was used to, as if it was a gel covering her whole back. It warmed her muscles and skin, and those slow yet firm hands moved over her as if the man could read her mind - sense where she wanted them. It was, of course, just experience on Lanar's side, since Dewitt didn't believe Aldeans - gestalts or not - had any gifts like telepathy.
"The first stage of the urun treatment will begin shortly," said the dark-skinned man, pulling Jennifer out of her reverie, and she raised her head a bit in motion to answer him, since he was standing in front of her...
...only whatever she meant to say died in her agape mouth when she saw that Lanar had not just removed his chlamys, but stood completely bare before her - massaging her shoulders and neck as if nothing was out of the ordinary. What the...? Why... How...? Did Faye see the same thing she did? Before her hung the full endowment of her masseur, and besides the proximity, the second thing she noticed was how the man had groomed himself to the extent that there wasn't a single hair to be seen anywhere. A thousand questions ran through her alarmed state of mind, ranging from the customs of the Aldeans to how the ADC representative had insisted this particular parlour and treatment - even paying for it on her tab. Was this how they made amends, or was this a ploy to embarrass them after the negotiations? A way to get back at them? Dewitt had no way of knowing this since she knew too little of the representative in question.
While all these questions ran through her head, Lanar had stepped around her side, and she suddenly felt the surface of the massage table shift beneath her to accommodate the weight of her masseur. She could feel Lanar's thighs outside her own as well, and realised that he was straddling her thighs where she laid face-down with her face in the cradle. Her eyes were wide, wondering if she ought to defy all cultural and social conventions and just push the man off her and run for the dressing room. Another glance towards Faye made her realise that she was there in the company with a Betazoid, and Faye would likely not have anything remotely against the development of naked massage assistants. Dewitt realised that she was the only one in the room with any objections in mind, and had no immediate answer to her predicament.
Without further ado, having lifted her head a little, she saw Lanar's hands wrap around the edges of the massage table on both sides of her head... and he began to rub his hairless body along her back. She wanted to shout and push him off, but it was as if the weight of the man had smothered her, even if he in no way laid his full weight upon her. Some sort of sound escaped her when he continued, his limber and strong frame undulating and sliding down her oily back once more, only to reverse direction and run his torso from her thighs to her upper back. She could feel him slide along her inner thighs! Lanar had been... impressive before he began this 'urun' treatment, but now she could feel how his hairless endowment had begun to quicken as well.
What do I do? she asked herself, despite how good the man made her feel when sliding up and down her back - the oils making sounds between them. She supposed... that regardless if the representative had ordered them this particular treatment out of genuine well-meaning - or out of spite - the best thing she could do... was actually to accept it, and enjoy it. Strange as it seemed, it appeared to be the best answer... and perhaps... Just perhaps... Lanar was making the experience more than just endurable.
It certainly seemed like the man was enjoying himself, given the way his hardness was sliding along her inner thighs and across her outer lips without visiting her. When had she begun to breathe like she did? She could not recall, but once she'd resolved her inner thoughts about the development, and relaxed where she laid on the table, she idly wondered if it was all business for the man, and if it was, how many women had he been with in his line of work? Surely, if the Aldeans paid the obscene amount of money the parlour asked for their treatments, the masseur was scanned and treated of any deceases after each session?
Dewitt was running out of excuses to object... and found her noises becoming bolder by the moment, that she was even beginning to undulate her hips a bit in answer when Lanar slid up her body... and his hardness rode up her slick inner thighs. She'd felt the swollen crown brush over her entrance several times already, and if she just shifted her hips... just so... she felt him line up...
...and push inside.
Jennifer let out a hiss of satisfaction through her teeth, and she lifted her face from its cradle to look behind her. Lanar had paused, meeting her green eyes across her shoulder. "This is your first urun treatment, is it not?" he said quietly in that deep voice, his lips close to hers. For a moment, Jennifer thought she'd done something wrong, a feeling of panic almost overtaking her. Lanar, however, smiled for the first time. "Relax, you need not move. You will be completely satisfied without any need to reciprocate. This service is all about your fulfilment, not mine."
"I..." Dewitt found her own smile, and leaned up a bit further, her chest lifting from the table a bit, "I don't care. Customer satisfaction, isn't it?" And even though it might have been wildly inappropriate to do so, she laid her lips to Lanar's, kissing him deeply for only a moment. The Aldean took it in stride, however, and smiled to her in the dim candlelight... before he began to move again.
Panting shallowly in rhythm with Lanar as he thrust into her, still rubbing his body against her back, Dewitt wondered what the Ensign next to her might say... her conduct not becoming of her rank, until she - again - reminded herself that the younger woman was a Betazoid. All her worries were mitigated when she looked over towards the other table.
[ Lt. Erev-Sae-Reyanad Xan | Olfactory Hell ] @fiendfall
"Long as you don't mind a pyrrhic victory," thank the spirits, this was in fact his contact. Better this handsome fellow than the bandi, or the shifty bolian. At least Andersson knew how to pick his agents, that much was certain. Erev made no protest as he stood to follow the hotboy, though he made a conscious decision to palm the klingon disruptor beneath his ragged poncho as he did so. He could assume that Avi was similarly cautious, as was everyone else on this excuse for a ship. At the very least they could give a nasty surprise if anyone followed them.
There was ah... of course the small chance that this wasn't his contact, but rather some oddball who loved chess and was about to try bed Erev because of an unhealthy fixation with the game. Small chance, but one can never know on a ship like this. The man knew the passcode and also resembled his contact so it was a reasonable guess, but... one never knew...
Right, push those thoughts out of the way, it was mission time.
The bunkroom was... well, drab. Erev could spot at least three different kinds of mattresses, plus one bunk that looked like it distinctly did not have a mattress. Only two blankets as far as he could tell, one with what looked like a faded squid pattern, and one that had seen about fifteen fluids he didn't much care to identify.
Nobody was inside the room at least, everyone out in the commons for the most part. Everyone seemed to like watching the stars zip by as streaks of light filtered through the superluminal lense of the warp field. Whatever, less pressure on their backs.
Erev sniffed the air. Still awful, and this time it smelled vaguely of- Spirits the people on this ship were so uncouth.
Regardless, he turned to face the man before him.
"So," Erev began, "Just to make sure, I'm assuming I have the right person before me? Does the name Andersson mean anything to you?"
He placed his hand on a bunk to lean against it, but reconsidered after a few seconds. Well, still, not as bad as cleaning up that one orion merchant's quarters after- no, those memories must never be unearthed, let not the terrors of the past come back to light.
[ Deacon | Counseling Office | Deck 9 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @FollowTomorrow
Fill in the gaps? That assumed she had a foundation to work with. Knowing a species exists is about as illuminating as noticing that the sun does not extinguish in the ocean each night... that the breath in your lungs and the gale on the mountain are one and the same... He exhaled slowly, doing his utmost not to tense and snap at every inquiry. There was a reason behind the collective ignorance of his people and that was shame. It was one of the few demands the Patriarch had made of those who had so single handedly defeated them so many centuries ago -- steer clear of their borders and forget they had ever crossed with the Kzinti. Certainly, there was no expectation that they would obliviate all knowledge of their conflict; that they bothered to check up on them periodically was proof enough of this, but those not of sufficient rank -- they were those left in the dark. No doubt it was more an effort to eliminate the potential nightmare of their populace, leaving them ignorant of a predator species at their veritable bosom; far closer and far less amicable than the Klingons, the Romulans...
Deacon rubbed his forehead with a sigh. It would almost be easier to let her read the report he had prepared for the captain. Maybe that would give her sufficient foundation to identify those gaps about which she so liberally inquired. But that, he knew, was not an option and it alone was solely adequate to illuminate the military machine of his people, and there was so much more to them than that, although that was all most were privileged to see unless they had the fortune of enslavement to the Patriarchy instead of elimination.
When he opened his eyes once more, the gold had subsided to crystal blue behind the glasses. This one was Cardassian. He wondered had events unfolded in the Kzinti's favor three hundred years prior, would the Cardassians have seen fit to bow or would there have been a new war? Three hundred years of history unraveled in his thoughts and rushed to stitch itself together in a flash of what-if's, speculations and hyperbole. Stop. He had to stop this blackhole of questioning.
There was an urge to excuse himself again; to give this one time to perhaps educate herself further. To put context to background. But that, he doubted, would yield the results he expected. This wasn't a matter of merely sending out a local inquiry. Even had they the resources available, all she would have access to is what little came from his personnel file. No, there was no way out of this except to plod through its murky recesses. It might have been easier to plead humanity, but then the question remained of why he was here at all.
Treat her as he might a Kzinrett? The parallel of ignorance was there, sure, but sapience, as he had to remind himself, was another matter entirely. How and why would he submit himself to such a process conducted by Kzinrett? It was almost worth reconsidering telepathic intrusion, if only to expedite matters. Almost.
Finally, he leaned back on his seat and stared at her for a moment. "Counselor, if someone were to ask you to explain the sum and total of what it is to be Cardassian, without context, without preamble and without guidance, I am certain you would find yourself in as challenging a position as you place me in now." He needn't point out that there was likely be a particular bias in any recounting, but he suspected that she might find such bias revealing.
"But, to cut to the chase on some elements... think Klingon with a tendency to eat what we kill... Ferengi with regards to our females, but far less egalitarian... and so self-assured of our superiority the Founders would blush... if Founders blush..." he paused for a second to consider the analogy. With a wave of his hand, echoed by the tip of his tail, he dismissed the notion, "Whatever Founders do. Did. We'd've eaten the Vorta, that's for sure."
[ Lt. Zelosa Ejek | Counseling Office | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @steelphoenix
Ejek thought it wisest not to mention whether or not B'nila was truly dead. If it concerned him, he would pursue it. She also did not want to risk adding even more grief to his bucket, whatever he carried in it. It was another issue for another time.
It was more important to Ejek to witness Deacon's response to her question. He seemed to flinch. Already, she knew she was stepping on a minefield. He was about to say something, something with the prefix 'mon', but she didn't get to hear the rest of it. He was angry, hurting, he struck back at her, and they'd barely begun. Fascinating.
For her part, she did not flinch, or even acknowledge a blow had been made. Such strikes and counter-strikes are a part of counseling, and she had long ago become accustomed to it. It was how he struck back, and when he chose to do it that offered her far more information than a thirty minute monologue could ever hope to do. Clearly though, she was not going to see change in him in this path. It was time to take the long way around...
"Well, that you are Kzinti was not in question. I've read over your file. However, be it the Theurgy's fault or the Federation's, there's precious little about Kzinti in the ship's databanks. I know that they exist..." She really did seethe over the Federation's absolute incompetence. It made her look like an absolute fool when she didn't have the information she needed before a session. She sincerely hoped Deacon understood. People to complain about the Federation with were so few and far between.
"If your goal is to reintegrate with your father's people, then I would inconvenience you by asking to fill in the information gaps for me." She raised her eyebrows and smiled. His eyes had become golden. They reminded her of a feline's. Not human. Interesting. Her smile felt genuine. Deacon was going to be fun.
[ Lt. Jg. Suq | Secluded Beach | Aldea ] @fiendfall
Morgan's hands were soft on his skin. Sure, they were working hands, but the way he touched was soft. Like Morgan appreciated Suq's body. Morgan wasn't afraid of how non-human he was. Suq was hairy and short and stout, and people didn't usually like that. Morgan did not care.
He allowed himself to close his eyes and just feel. Morgan's skin was cooler than Suq's, the waves even cooler still. The waves came and went. The ocean's pulse. Morgan's pulse right beside it. His voice was soothing. No, it wasn't confident. He stopped up on some words, but that's what made listening to him actually interesting. It made him real.
Morgan said Suq was 'pretty interesting'. It made half of his mouth lift in a sort-of smile. Suq knew he seemed interesting to some. Weird was the correct word, but interesting was the polite one. Whether Morgan meant to say weird or not, he didn't mind. He knew who he was, what he was. It was Morgan he wanted to find out more about.
"A beach on Earth? Did you live on a beach then?" He asked, his voice a gentle, dual-toned murmur. He was letting his second voice slip again, but it was alright. He was relaxed, that's all.