Post by Judith Eastman on Jul 4, 2021 14:23:13 GMT
We have a runoff for POTM. Cast your votes by Tuesday, July 6th, at 7:30 AM Pacific Time.
{Submission #1, by Kova Sh'qaleq, is in the Down Time thread Some Assembly Required}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Kova Sh'qaleq - Holosuite]
This was a mistake. Coming here with Syl. Kova wasn't certain what was happening. What malfunction had occurred and was assaulting the young pilot. Whatever the glitch was, it was invisible... undetectable. Kova started to reach for her, but Syl seemed to be frantically pulling first at her helmet and then at the harness that she wore. "S-syl?" Kova uttered. Yet, even the Andorian wasn't certain if she had actually spoken or merely mouthed the words.
The Andorian was frozen in place. For what felt like an eternity, she simply stood there watching, wondering what she should do. She considered calling for medics to report, but Syl didn't appear to be physically injured, despite her antics. Perhaps what she needed was a counselor. It'd certainly be the first time Kova could conceive of an actual use for them. And then, perhaps she needed nothing. Kova did think about simply leaving Syl here alone... with her thoughts. Sometimes, one needed simply time to themselves to work matters out. Kova had taken a single step back before she froze, the prevailing thought being that humans were different.
She rolled her eyes at the tiny voice in her mind, urging her not to leave. After all, what did it really know? It knew that Syl hadn't abandoned her when that riot broke out. It knew that she didn't just let Syl bleed out at the hands of Solon. It also hadn't let Syl come to the holosuite alone. And it wasn't inclined to leave her there alone now. An annoyed mumble left Kova's lips. Not necessarily annoyed with Syl, but likely with Kova herself giving this as much thought as she had.
The Andorian followed her towards the pavement, as she stared out at the mountain range. She wasn't sure what Syl was doing there... or perhaps she pretended not to know. The Andorian's hand rose slightly. It first hovered just behind Syl's shoulder and then over the human's head. Which was more appropriate to pat supportively? She eventually moved to stand beside Syl, attempting to discern what she was possibly focusing on, ignoring her tear-stained face. "So, I take it we're done with the gliding?" She simply stood there for a moment before finally speaking once again. "Would you prefer we visit the river instead?"
You can read the post in context here.
Kova dealing with a human having a panic attack. 'Nough said.
Here's the post itself:
This was a mistake. Coming here with Syl. Kova wasn't certain what was happening. What malfunction had occurred and was assaulting the young pilot. Whatever the glitch was, it was invisible... undetectable. Kova started to reach for her, but Syl seemed to be frantically pulling first at her helmet and then at the harness that she wore. "S-syl?" Kova uttered. Yet, even the Andorian wasn't certain if she had actually spoken or merely mouthed the words.
The Andorian was frozen in place. For what felt like an eternity, she simply stood there watching, wondering what she should do. She considered calling for medics to report, but Syl didn't appear to be physically injured, despite her antics. Perhaps what she needed was a counselor. It'd certainly be the first time Kova could conceive of an actual use for them. And then, perhaps she needed nothing. Kova did think about simply leaving Syl here alone... with her thoughts. Sometimes, one needed simply time to themselves to work matters out. Kova had taken a single step back before she froze, the prevailing thought being that humans were different.
She rolled her eyes at the tiny voice in her mind, urging her not to leave. After all, what did it really know? It knew that Syl hadn't abandoned her when that riot broke out. It knew that she didn't just let Syl bleed out at the hands of Solon. It also hadn't let Syl come to the holosuite alone. And it wasn't inclined to leave her there alone now. An annoyed mumble left Kova's lips. Not necessarily annoyed with Syl, but likely with Kova herself giving this as much thought as she had.
The Andorian followed her towards the pavement, as she stared out at the mountain range. She wasn't sure what Syl was doing there... or perhaps she pretended not to know. The Andorian's hand rose slightly. It first hovered just behind Syl's shoulder and then over the human's head. Which was more appropriate to pat supportively? She eventually moved to stand beside Syl, attempting to discern what she was possibly focusing on, ignoring her tear-stained face. "So, I take it we're done with the gliding?" She simply stood there for a moment before finally speaking once again. "Would you prefer we visit the river instead?"
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #5, by Ic Arbrell, is in the Event}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Delirium, Promenade]
It was torture to watch Shavan move like that. Sweet, hot, rhythmic torture, as he finally understood the first verse—
Ic pouted at Kova’s refusal to hear his resignation, a mask for the mixing of feelings that moved to the cover me with kisses, baby in a painful shade of teal. It had been more an offer to leave the competition completely so they’d have a chance of winning than it was to get out of embarrassing himself with dancing, and although he wasn’t sure she knew that, it was clear to him that she was trying to help anyway. Whether she believed that they could still win, or if she actually liked him well enough to keep him around, he couldn’t tell. Even if she just wanted to see him embarrass himself in front of Shavan and die in D minor, she was going out of her way to do it… with a really cool thing.
When she offered the lens ready to go, he turned it over with his usual curiosity for a moment before he put it on. Everyone but the choreographer vanished from view— but not so from the periphery of his feeling. Emotions come, I don’t know why, cover up love’s alibi—
Betazoid dance was symbiotic in nature, relying on being perfectly in tune with one’s music and partner to produce a compelling performance. Almost entirely improvised, it had next to no recognizably standard moves but for any of the common nonverbal gestures used in everyday communication to emphasize a feeling. It was made entirely of feeling, a shared emotion between two and tune, displayed on the outside.
Although Ic Arbrell knew every move in the choreography of each of Madonna’s videos and major concert performances, he could only follow it without the distraction of someone else. Independence of her work conflicted with what he knew, and the midpoint was disastrous. But he had two someone elses in the same boat to help him through Blondie. He didn’t count on matching emotion, and it would have been a whole lot easier if no one could see him either, but he’d do his best.
“Chel-E, end choreography,” he suggested quietly. To his surprise, it did. Hmm.. “Chel-E, take a message to display for Kova— You're the best.” He lifted the lens to take one last longing look at the lieutenant he knew he really shouldn’t have, and with a resolute sigh (leaving the berries safely on a table nearby) headed in to join his team on the dance floor.
When you’re ready, we can share the wine, call me!
Whatever protestations Ic had about dancing in front of other people was criminally unfounded. He was no Orion, and it was clear he wasn’t suited to solo performance, but a little each of his partners’ shifting moods on top of his own was enough to get into a groove. His only comfort right now, though, was knowing that the bouncer had seen a whole lot worse.
You can read the post in context here.
I love all of Ic's posts, but his reaction to being forced to dance with his crush, and Kova's assistance, made this one particularly enjoyable to read
Here's the post itself:
It was torture to watch Shavan move like that. Sweet, hot, rhythmic torture, as he finally understood the first verse—
Ic pouted at Kova’s refusal to hear his resignation, a mask for the mixing of feelings that moved to the cover me with kisses, baby in a painful shade of teal. It had been more an offer to leave the competition completely so they’d have a chance of winning than it was to get out of embarrassing himself with dancing, and although he wasn’t sure she knew that, it was clear to him that she was trying to help anyway. Whether she believed that they could still win, or if she actually liked him well enough to keep him around, he couldn’t tell. Even if she just wanted to see him embarrass himself in front of Shavan and die in D minor, she was going out of her way to do it… with a really cool thing.
When she offered the lens ready to go, he turned it over with his usual curiosity for a moment before he put it on. Everyone but the choreographer vanished from view— but not so from the periphery of his feeling. Emotions come, I don’t know why, cover up love’s alibi—
Betazoid dance was symbiotic in nature, relying on being perfectly in tune with one’s music and partner to produce a compelling performance. Almost entirely improvised, it had next to no recognizably standard moves but for any of the common nonverbal gestures used in everyday communication to emphasize a feeling. It was made entirely of feeling, a shared emotion between two and tune, displayed on the outside.
Although Ic Arbrell knew every move in the choreography of each of Madonna’s videos and major concert performances, he could only follow it without the distraction of someone else. Independence of her work conflicted with what he knew, and the midpoint was disastrous. But he had two someone elses in the same boat to help him through Blondie. He didn’t count on matching emotion, and it would have been a whole lot easier if no one could see him either, but he’d do his best.
“Chel-E, end choreography,” he suggested quietly. To his surprise, it did. Hmm.. “Chel-E, take a message to display for Kova— You're the best.” He lifted the lens to take one last longing look at the lieutenant he knew he really shouldn’t have, and with a resolute sigh (leaving the berries safely on a table nearby) headed in to join his team on the dance floor.
When you’re ready, we can share the wine, call me!
Whatever protestations Ic had about dancing in front of other people was criminally unfounded. He was no Orion, and it was clear he wasn’t suited to solo performance, but a little each of his partners’ shifting moods on top of his own was enough to get into a groove. His only comfort right now, though, was knowing that the bouncer had seen a whole lot worse.
You can read the post in context here.
