Post by Judith Eastman on Nov 5, 2021 20:29:59 GMT
With apologies for the delay, I present to you our POTM submissions for October. The procedure is as usual. We have 5 nominations and 1 honorable mention.
{Submission #1, by Eliska Bremmer, is in Mission Through the Looking Glass}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
You can read the post in context here.
Canuck did a great job having his character solve a problem creatively.
Here's the post itself:
[ PO3 Eliska Bremmer - Bridge -> Storage Bay Level 2, Deck 11, Prime!Mac ]
Well, having just settled at a console that felt thoroughly alien to her, Bremmer was trying to make sense of the many inputs before her. Shield emitters were coming back online after modifications, structural forcefields were responding, and the last of the casualty reports had come in. So things were moving well enough until the Bridge intercom sounded, with Mister Nork, of all people, reporting he was under attack.
Well, given she was one of the few members of her department currently not tied up with many other duties, that meant the Petty Officer could at least do something that made sense to her. Especially given the call for assistance was cut short, and she could swear she heard a dull thud just after the word 'by', even as she poinpointed the sourced of the transmission (well, more like read what the ship's communications grid reported about it).
"I got this," she simply announced before turning to one of the Bridge small arms lockers and found herself a phaser, and headed for the Turbolift. If someone had been assaulted, she would not go down there unarmed!
The trip towards the cargo bay had been short enough, and before long the heavy doors rumbled open and she carefully stepped in, her hand on her weapon and her eyes seeking out trouble, or at least sign of that infuriatingly Vulcan Ensign. "Mister Nork? Anyone? This is Security, come on out if you can..."
Well, having just settled at a console that felt thoroughly alien to her, Bremmer was trying to make sense of the many inputs before her. Shield emitters were coming back online after modifications, structural forcefields were responding, and the last of the casualty reports had come in. So things were moving well enough until the Bridge intercom sounded, with Mister Nork, of all people, reporting he was under attack.
Well, given she was one of the few members of her department currently not tied up with many other duties, that meant the Petty Officer could at least do something that made sense to her. Especially given the call for assistance was cut short, and she could swear she heard a dull thud just after the word 'by', even as she poinpointed the sourced of the transmission (well, more like read what the ship's communications grid reported about it).
"I got this," she simply announced before turning to one of the Bridge small arms lockers and found herself a phaser, and headed for the Turbolift. If someone had been assaulted, she would not go down there unarmed!
The trip towards the cargo bay had been short enough, and before long the heavy doors rumbled open and she carefully stepped in, her hand on her weapon and her eyes seeking out trouble, or at least sign of that infuriatingly Vulcan Ensign. "Mister Nork? Anyone? This is Security, come on out if you can..."
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #2, by Kaya Som, is in Mission Through the Looking Glass}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
You can read the post in context here.
This post was so beautifully articulated and hit different. It was like a gut punch but wonderful at the same time. It just perfectly captured the feelings of the mission and understanding.
Here's the post itself:
[ SCPO Kaya Som - Sickbay | Old!Kaya et. al. - Engineering ]
In Sickbay Kaya situated herself in the biobed, finding it harder than she'd thought to get a comfortable position for her recently healing innerds. She clipped the commbadge to the hospital gown and balanced the PADD on her lap.
"Som to Engineering, status report."
Down in Engineering, ears perked up at the voice of their absent chief Engineer. The more aged Kaya paused and considered before answering. She smiled. It was always bizarre hearing your own voice, but Kaya's truely did sound to her all too young.
The older Kaya provided the update as the others looked on.
"Everything's fine. Nork is under control. We're prepping to get out of here."
In sickbay, bed-bound Kaya was taken aback. Lack of protocol over comms was a clue, but it was her. Her voice from far in the future! Her face lit up alone there on the bio bed with all the privacy Dr. Harrison had promised, her throat suddenly tight with emotion.
"Okay, great. Um." she responded suddenly struck speechless. Encountering a copy of yourself, Kaya had thought about it before. What would you do if you met your clone, or your past self, or your future self - all the prompts of late-night party discussions had a similar bent and Kaya's answer was always the same. She laughed to herself and tapped in again.
"Do you need any help? I can't come down there. I'm in sickbay."
Down in Engineering, the older Kaya was moved by the emotion in her own voice. She looked to Maddox hoping he understood what she had to do.
"We're alright here. Don't move. Kaya out."
With a last look at Engineering, at everyone who knew what to do, at Nork who was more capable than she ever gave him credit for, and at her spouse, Kaya left to find herself.
[ Exit Old!Kaya ]
[ Sickbay ]
Sickbay was busy but this time there was hope in the air. The older Kaya found her way back to the recovery suites. The door slid open and she saw herself look up from where she was on the bed, PADD in lap.
"Vek'tema..." she breathed. The younger Kaya had the same response, defied doctor's orders and slid from the bed, her bare feet taking the floor. The two Kayas didn't hesitate in their approach. The older took the younger's face in her hands. Younger Kaya's cheeks were smooth and plump, her hair still a thick chestnut brown, her spots clear and not hazy. The younger Kaya had put her hands on top of hers, cold on Trill cold, feeling the other's knobby joints and calloused fingers.
They spoke to each other in Trill.
«You're crying,» said the elder.
«I always said that if I met another version of myself,» younger Kaya began with a shaky laugh, «that we'd make out.»
Elder Kaya was already smiling, her smile big, her heart full. She knew, of course. They'd lived the same twenty-eight years. Elder Kaya leaned forward and gently kissed younger Kaya's forehead. She lingered there for a long moment knowing it was a cosmically sacred moment. She held hope in her hands for the first time in decades in a way even the mothers never had. The younger Kaya relaxed deeply into it, knowing the same thing.
When the Elder Kaya pulled away and released the younger from her hands, the younger had so many questions but she led with a compliment.
«We look good! I love the grey.»
Elder Kaya laughed. «Yeah, thanks. Dignified, really. You, though, enjoy that arse while you can.»
Younger Kaya laughed but immediately winced, holding her tummy. The elder's face fell and she reached to help her back to the bed. The younger Kaya showed off the doctor's handiwork. The elder admired it, the lack of any scar. It was just a bit red.
«Oh, look at that. Much better than mine. He save yours?»
The younger Kaya shook her head no. «It's still in there, but I can't join.»
There wasn't anything to be said. Kaya knew that Kaya knew what Kaya knew. They'd felt the same way on this day. The only difference was that today, Kaya had Kaya there to understand it all exactly.
In Sickbay Kaya situated herself in the biobed, finding it harder than she'd thought to get a comfortable position for her recently healing innerds. She clipped the commbadge to the hospital gown and balanced the PADD on her lap.
"Som to Engineering, status report."Down in Engineering, ears perked up at the voice of their absent chief Engineer. The more aged Kaya paused and considered before answering. She smiled. It was always bizarre hearing your own voice, but Kaya's truely did sound to her all too young.
The older Kaya provided the update as the others looked on.
"Everything's fine. Nork is under control. We're prepping to get out of here."In sickbay, bed-bound Kaya was taken aback. Lack of protocol over comms was a clue, but it was her. Her voice from far in the future! Her face lit up alone there on the bio bed with all the privacy Dr. Harrison had promised, her throat suddenly tight with emotion.
"Okay, great. Um." she responded suddenly struck speechless. Encountering a copy of yourself, Kaya had thought about it before. What would you do if you met your clone, or your past self, or your future self - all the prompts of late-night party discussions had a similar bent and Kaya's answer was always the same. She laughed to herself and tapped in again."Do you need any help? I can't come down there. I'm in sickbay."Down in Engineering, the older Kaya was moved by the emotion in her own voice. She looked to Maddox hoping he understood what she had to do.
"We're alright here. Don't move. Kaya out."With a last look at Engineering, at everyone who knew what to do, at Nork who was more capable than she ever gave him credit for, and at her spouse, Kaya left to find herself.
[ Exit Old!Kaya ]
[ Sickbay ]
Sickbay was busy but this time there was hope in the air. The older Kaya found her way back to the recovery suites. The door slid open and she saw herself look up from where she was on the bed, PADD in lap.
"Vek'tema..." she breathed. The younger Kaya had the same response, defied doctor's orders and slid from the bed, her bare feet taking the floor. The two Kayas didn't hesitate in their approach. The older took the younger's face in her hands. Younger Kaya's cheeks were smooth and plump, her hair still a thick chestnut brown, her spots clear and not hazy. The younger Kaya had put her hands on top of hers, cold on Trill cold, feeling the other's knobby joints and calloused fingers.
They spoke to each other in Trill.
«You're crying,» said the elder.
«I always said that if I met another version of myself,» younger Kaya began with a shaky laugh, «that we'd make out.»
Elder Kaya was already smiling, her smile big, her heart full. She knew, of course. They'd lived the same twenty-eight years. Elder Kaya leaned forward and gently kissed younger Kaya's forehead. She lingered there for a long moment knowing it was a cosmically sacred moment. She held hope in her hands for the first time in decades in a way even the mothers never had. The younger Kaya relaxed deeply into it, knowing the same thing.
When the Elder Kaya pulled away and released the younger from her hands, the younger had so many questions but she led with a compliment.
«We look good! I love the grey.»
Elder Kaya laughed. «Yeah, thanks. Dignified, really. You, though, enjoy that arse while you can.»
Younger Kaya laughed but immediately winced, holding her tummy. The elder's face fell and she reached to help her back to the bed. The younger Kaya showed off the doctor's handiwork. The elder admired it, the lack of any scar. It was just a bit red.
«Oh, look at that. Much better than mine. He save yours?»
The younger Kaya shook her head no. «It's still in there, but I can't join.»
There wasn't anything to be said. Kaya knew that Kaya knew what Kaya knew. They'd felt the same way on this day. The only difference was that today, Kaya had Kaya there to understand it all exactly.
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #3, by Isaiah Quinn, is in the event Flotsam}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Ready Room, N.S.S. Soteria ]
The level of tension in the room was high. Vasser could only imagine that a very similar disposition was taking place aboard the station as well. However, that wasn't her concern. For now, her purview was limited to what was taking place aboard her own vessel. Particularly, where her Intelligence officer was concerned. It wasn't in Vasser's nature to simply allow idle hands to roam. After hearing about Avi Moz, Vasser thought it best to put Chromar's talents to constructive use, rather than leave him to his own machinations. And at those he was quite talented.
"Have you discovered anything useful?" Vasser asked.
The Romulan stared coolly in Vasser's direction. His venomous glare wasn't aimed at her directly, but she certainly hadn't alleviated the matter. Sometimes, he thought the fact that she had been a Starfleet Captain was to her detriment. Still, he couldn't argue with the effectiveness of her methods overall. "If you are asking if I've discovered the identities of any other moles... the answer is no. As per your request."
Vasser pursed her lips. "And I thought we agreed the more prudent strategy was not to uproot the mole, but to control the narrative. How're things on that front?"
A long sigh left Chromar's lips. "We won't know for certain, until they haul you in for another inquisition, but if their source... or sources are worth anything, I'm certain their tongues are wagging quite profusely," Chromar admitted. "There are enough... alternative facts... that they won't ignore. If Harmon's replacement has access to any of that information and has shared it with Captain Eastman and the rest of the staff, they'll tip their hand and verify there's a spy on board."
Vasser nodded. "Excellent. Thank you, Major," she said. Perhaps that was enough stroking of Chromar's ego for the time being. A little praise went a long way in soothing one's wounded pride. "Now, I'm not certain if things will escalate, but I do plant to take the Soteria out very shortly. I imagine that Captain Eastman will be resistant to that notion if Lieutenant Henriksen mood was any indication."
She then turned her attention to Captian Jogann. "Captain, your assessment of any attempts to retain us?" She paused waiting for the Brikar's response.
"The obvious play would be to lock down the clamps and keep us stationary," the Captain stated. "They may even attempt to breach and board, or extract via transporter. I have contingencies in place for each of those. The majority of your men are trained in anti-boarding and close-quarters combat. I'm not certain the same could be said for Starfleet stationed here. As for nullifying the transporters, we can erect a scattering field. It should interfere with their sensors enough that they it would degrade the accuracy of a signal lock well below their preferred threshold." The Brikar tilted his head slightly. "And we could have a team of six cutters in EVO-gear at your discretion if you choose to physically cut or blow the docking clamps."
Jogan was good... effective. Vasser made a mental note to see what she could do about stealing him away from Sigma-4 on a permenant basis. "It's good to know we have options, Captain. Let's proceed with the scattering field. Have all people standing by to defend against a breach and board. The clamps will be a last resort." The last thing Vasser wanted to do was escalate things to that level if it could be avoided. "I just received orders that our presence is required just outside the Decius system, immediately."
"That's where--" began Chromar.
Vasser nodded. "That's right," the colonel said. "A very popular area as of late, with absolutely no strategic value. Have you heard anything more?"
"Colonel... even I have my limits," said the Romulan. Vasser wasn't entirely certain if she believed that. However, given that someone had nearly killed him several months ago, she knew that Chromar would be dogged about learning what he could from those shadows.
It was then that Vasser was advised that Captain Eastman was attempting to contact her. "Well, gentlement... it seems we're being summoned." Vasser rose from her seat and moved to the Bridge. She nodded for Gorsk to put the message on screen. As she stared over at Eastman's image requesting her presence, Vasser wasn't entirely certain if Quinn had gotten the message she'd sent him or not. Which meant there was only one way to proceed.
-♦- "Captain, your timing is impeccable. I trust Lt. Henriksen relayed our time table to you, so I must decline your invitation. My ship has business elsewhere, and as I said before... I've shared with you all that I can. Everything I have said and will say is in the official receipt that Mr. Quinn signed for." -♦- Vasser nodded towards Jogann, and the Brikar proceeded to the tactical station and erected the scattering field. It wouldn't interfere with communications, but he did imagine that if they were being watched, they'd realize it was in play.
"Sergeant Gorsk, send our official request to disembark to Ops," Vasser said. Her eyes moved back to the viewscreen. -♦- "There are a lot of eyes on us, Captain," -♦- Vasser said. -♦- "I suggest we each be very mindful of what follows from here." -♦- Vasser then turned to Chromar and gave a second nod. The Intelligence Officer began filtering through com-traffic to and from the ship, no matter how significant. Vasser took one a deep breath, her eyes staring directly into Judy's as she gave her next orders aloud for Eastman to hear. -♦- "Helm, prepare to disengage and proceed to our coordinates on my mark." -♦- Vasser continued to stare directly at Judy's image. She wasn't certain how much time had passed before she finally uttered the word. -♦- "Mark." -♦-
You can read the post in context here.
This is deft work, choreographing basically the entire Nyberrite Alliance, creating solid and engaging ensemble scenes, each character with their own unique motivations.
Here's the post itself:
| Col. Helena Vasser | Maj. Chromar | Alpha Sgt. Gorsk | Dr. Bel | Capt. Rez Jogann | 2nd Lt. Neema |
 |  |  |  |  |  |
The level of tension in the room was high. Vasser could only imagine that a very similar disposition was taking place aboard the station as well. However, that wasn't her concern. For now, her purview was limited to what was taking place aboard her own vessel. Particularly, where her Intelligence officer was concerned. It wasn't in Vasser's nature to simply allow idle hands to roam. After hearing about Avi Moz, Vasser thought it best to put Chromar's talents to constructive use, rather than leave him to his own machinations. And at those he was quite talented.
"Have you discovered anything useful?" Vasser asked.
The Romulan stared coolly in Vasser's direction. His venomous glare wasn't aimed at her directly, but she certainly hadn't alleviated the matter. Sometimes, he thought the fact that she had been a Starfleet Captain was to her detriment. Still, he couldn't argue with the effectiveness of her methods overall. "If you are asking if I've discovered the identities of any other moles... the answer is no. As per your request."
Vasser pursed her lips. "And I thought we agreed the more prudent strategy was not to uproot the mole, but to control the narrative. How're things on that front?"
A long sigh left Chromar's lips. "We won't know for certain, until they haul you in for another inquisition, but if their source... or sources are worth anything, I'm certain their tongues are wagging quite profusely," Chromar admitted. "There are enough... alternative facts... that they won't ignore. If Harmon's replacement has access to any of that information and has shared it with Captain Eastman and the rest of the staff, they'll tip their hand and verify there's a spy on board."
Vasser nodded. "Excellent. Thank you, Major," she said. Perhaps that was enough stroking of Chromar's ego for the time being. A little praise went a long way in soothing one's wounded pride. "Now, I'm not certain if things will escalate, but I do plant to take the Soteria out very shortly. I imagine that Captain Eastman will be resistant to that notion if Lieutenant Henriksen mood was any indication."
She then turned her attention to Captian Jogann. "Captain, your assessment of any attempts to retain us?" She paused waiting for the Brikar's response.
"The obvious play would be to lock down the clamps and keep us stationary," the Captain stated. "They may even attempt to breach and board, or extract via transporter. I have contingencies in place for each of those. The majority of your men are trained in anti-boarding and close-quarters combat. I'm not certain the same could be said for Starfleet stationed here. As for nullifying the transporters, we can erect a scattering field. It should interfere with their sensors enough that they it would degrade the accuracy of a signal lock well below their preferred threshold." The Brikar tilted his head slightly. "And we could have a team of six cutters in EVO-gear at your discretion if you choose to physically cut or blow the docking clamps."
Jogan was good... effective. Vasser made a mental note to see what she could do about stealing him away from Sigma-4 on a permenant basis. "It's good to know we have options, Captain. Let's proceed with the scattering field. Have all people standing by to defend against a breach and board. The clamps will be a last resort." The last thing Vasser wanted to do was escalate things to that level if it could be avoided. "I just received orders that our presence is required just outside the Decius system, immediately."
"That's where--" began Chromar.
Vasser nodded. "That's right," the colonel said. "A very popular area as of late, with absolutely no strategic value. Have you heard anything more?"
"Colonel... even I have my limits," said the Romulan. Vasser wasn't entirely certain if she believed that. However, given that someone had nearly killed him several months ago, she knew that Chromar would be dogged about learning what he could from those shadows.
It was then that Vasser was advised that Captain Eastman was attempting to contact her. "Well, gentlement... it seems we're being summoned." Vasser rose from her seat and moved to the Bridge. She nodded for Gorsk to put the message on screen. As she stared over at Eastman's image requesting her presence, Vasser wasn't entirely certain if Quinn had gotten the message she'd sent him or not. Which meant there was only one way to proceed.
-♦- "Captain, your timing is impeccable. I trust Lt. Henriksen relayed our time table to you, so I must decline your invitation. My ship has business elsewhere, and as I said before... I've shared with you all that I can. Everything I have said and will say is in the official receipt that Mr. Quinn signed for." -♦- Vasser nodded towards Jogann, and the Brikar proceeded to the tactical station and erected the scattering field. It wouldn't interfere with communications, but he did imagine that if they were being watched, they'd realize it was in play.
"Sergeant Gorsk, send our official request to disembark to Ops," Vasser said. Her eyes moved back to the viewscreen. -♦- "There are a lot of eyes on us, Captain," -♦- Vasser said. -♦- "I suggest we each be very mindful of what follows from here." -♦- Vasser then turned to Chromar and gave a second nod. The Intelligence Officer began filtering through com-traffic to and from the ship, no matter how significant. Vasser took one a deep breath, her eyes staring directly into Judy's as she gave her next orders aloud for Eastman to hear. -♦- "Helm, prepare to disengage and proceed to our coordinates on my mark." -♦- Vasser continued to stare directly at Judy's image. She wasn't certain how much time had passed before she finally uttered the word. -♦- "Mark." -♦-
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #4, by Ic Arbrell, is in the minisode Bump}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Ens. Dolores Holiday — Park, Front Ear]
Lola could never be convinced that there weren’t such thing as ghosts. She felt them with her all the time; those of the dead, those of the living, and those of her own past selves. It was the last of these that haunted her now. Handwritten notes about refits she hadn’t come up with, meticulously-coded file names that became mysteriously-coded when she realized she couldn’t remember the method or forgotten the key. Today, the little phantom was a lacy white dress laid out on her table, and a reminder tucked in the sleeve: 10/31, Halloween. Comet party @ Park, no arrangements.
Not being one to refuse her own invitations (everything would fall apart if she did), and certainly never willing to skip out on a chance to dress up and eat candy, here she was. It had been far too long since the Trill had actually gotten out and mingled that she probably was a ghost to most of the station. Third shift, part time, structural engineering, replatings and renovations done while you sleep—
The lights flickered as she stepped off the turbolift and drifted into the park, and Lola found that she could not suppress the pleasure of a smile. Bare feet moved steadily toward the event setup— steadily, that is, until each next costumed person she saw poked up her excitement another notch, and she could not help but wiggle to the band’s beat, trying to hum along. Her first task was, quite naturally, to collect a handful of candy from one of the offered bowls. Although she wasn’t technically supposed to partake in too much sugar, she rather doubted her doctors would be here or take the candy bar out of her mouth.
As she was fighting with a wrapper, she glanced up at the people around her, ready with a smile in case anyone noticed, until the comet on the viewscreen captured her (—imagination) attention.
“Say,” she addressed no one in particular, and indeed possibly just the chocolate, “Anyone making a wish on this thing?”
You can read the post in context here.
I just enjoyed the build up to the arrival & then how her question struck up a conversation
Here's the post itself:
[Ens. Dolores Holiday — Park, Front Ear]
Lola could never be convinced that there weren’t such thing as ghosts. She felt them with her all the time; those of the dead, those of the living, and those of her own past selves. It was the last of these that haunted her now. Handwritten notes about refits she hadn’t come up with, meticulously-coded file names that became mysteriously-coded when she realized she couldn’t remember the method or forgotten the key. Today, the little phantom was a lacy white dress laid out on her table, and a reminder tucked in the sleeve: 10/31, Halloween. Comet party @ Park, no arrangements.
Not being one to refuse her own invitations (everything would fall apart if she did), and certainly never willing to skip out on a chance to dress up and eat candy, here she was. It had been far too long since the Trill had actually gotten out and mingled that she probably was a ghost to most of the station. Third shift, part time, structural engineering, replatings and renovations done while you sleep—
The lights flickered as she stepped off the turbolift and drifted into the park, and Lola found that she could not suppress the pleasure of a smile. Bare feet moved steadily toward the event setup— steadily, that is, until each next costumed person she saw poked up her excitement another notch, and she could not help but wiggle to the band’s beat, trying to hum along. Her first task was, quite naturally, to collect a handful of candy from one of the offered bowls. Although she wasn’t technically supposed to partake in too much sugar, she rather doubted her doctors would be here or take the candy bar out of her mouth.
As she was fighting with a wrapper, she glanced up at the people around her, ready with a smile in case anyone noticed, until the comet on the viewscreen captured her (—imagination) attention.
“Say,” she addressed no one in particular, and indeed possibly just the chocolate, “Anyone making a wish on this thing?”
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #5, by Ic Arbrell, is in the minisode Ar'puk}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Ensign Ic Arbrell — Hot Springs, East Mountains, Talor Prime]
Ah, yes, Shavan’s tastes. He wasn’t sure if it was a spectrum in the form of a mobius on which Jovireh probably spanned an impressive interval, or a numbered scale at which she undoubtedly placed highest in comparative value. He was certain that by those qualifiers, he was a hue outside of representation, able only to be sensed by its absence; in the negatives, an outlier, and therefore should not be counted.
Ic was not a person but a supercharged experience. Not the senses of a jacarine in the mouth or hand, nor the pleasure of eating the piece of fruit; he was the unnamed emotion of brief adrenal surge from a spritz off the rind, existing more greatly in metaphor than any real substance. As if to preserve the fleeting feeling of him, they handled him with kid gloves.
Things were clearer when people thought in words, but everything was louder when they shared intentions. He hadn’t landed his attempt to play off his discomfort; they just didn’t want to make him feel bad. And while it was very, very kind of them— and that was exactly why he liked the two of them as much as he did, and wanted to make the right impression— Ic got the sense, rightly or otherwise, that the dynamic, the vibe, had shifted. He felt like some nerdy little sister hanging around the cool teens. There was no way he was going to be able to play harmony to that.
In his continued, futile attempt of doing so, however, he caught notice of a poorly muted thought. It moved in and out of perception, avoided like sleep on a double shift, creeping in peripheral flashes of flesh and—
Something Talorian approached for a perfect (—hello, fit naked man) distraction. Or maybe not so much, when he found the formerly obscured thought reflected all too plainly in the stranger’s thoughts. The invitation— or was it an imperative?— to dinner was welcome, at least. “Thank you, sir,” Ic said quietly, a sound thinned by steam and insufficiency (and great doubt that he would actually be so thankful, but Ic couldn’t bear to be rude).
“So, pregaming, I guess. I can grab the drinks, you two can relax, and if you think of anything else you need—” He already regretted this as he tapped his temple: “You know how to get a hold of me.”
He wondered if he could go with the Talorian to get a few glasses or recommendations of which of their liquors was best if he didn’t want to remember anything the next day.
You can read the post in context here.
YOOOOOO...!
"Ic was not a person but a supercharged experience. Not the senses of a jacarine in the mouth or hand, nor the pleasure of eating the piece of fruit; he was the unnamed emotion of brief adrenal surge from a spritz off the rind, existing more greatly in metaphor than any real substance. As if to preserve the fleeting feeling of him, they handled him with kid gloves.
"
"Ic was not a person but a supercharged experience. Not the senses of a jacarine in the mouth or hand, nor the pleasure of eating the piece of fruit; he was the unnamed emotion of brief adrenal surge from a spritz off the rind, existing more greatly in metaphor than any real substance. As if to preserve the fleeting feeling of him, they handled him with kid gloves.
"
Here's the post itself:
Ah, yes, Shavan’s tastes. He wasn’t sure if it was a spectrum in the form of a mobius on which Jovireh probably spanned an impressive interval, or a numbered scale at which she undoubtedly placed highest in comparative value. He was certain that by those qualifiers, he was a hue outside of representation, able only to be sensed by its absence; in the negatives, an outlier, and therefore should not be counted.
Ic was not a person but a supercharged experience. Not the senses of a jacarine in the mouth or hand, nor the pleasure of eating the piece of fruit; he was the unnamed emotion of brief adrenal surge from a spritz off the rind, existing more greatly in metaphor than any real substance. As if to preserve the fleeting feeling of him, they handled him with kid gloves.
Things were clearer when people thought in words, but everything was louder when they shared intentions. He hadn’t landed his attempt to play off his discomfort; they just didn’t want to make him feel bad. And while it was very, very kind of them— and that was exactly why he liked the two of them as much as he did, and wanted to make the right impression— Ic got the sense, rightly or otherwise, that the dynamic, the vibe, had shifted. He felt like some nerdy little sister hanging around the cool teens. There was no way he was going to be able to play harmony to that.
In his continued, futile attempt of doing so, however, he caught notice of a poorly muted thought. It moved in and out of perception, avoided like sleep on a double shift, creeping in peripheral flashes of flesh and—
Something Talorian approached for a perfect (—hello, fit naked man) distraction. Or maybe not so much, when he found the formerly obscured thought reflected all too plainly in the stranger’s thoughts. The invitation— or was it an imperative?— to dinner was welcome, at least. “Thank you, sir,” Ic said quietly, a sound thinned by steam and insufficiency (and great doubt that he would actually be so thankful, but Ic couldn’t bear to be rude).
“So, pregaming, I guess. I can grab the drinks, you two can relax, and if you think of anything else you need—” He already regretted this as he tapped his temple: “You know how to get a hold of me.”
He wondered if he could go with the Talorian to get a few glasses or recommendations of which of their liquors was best if he didn’t want to remember anything the next day.
You can read the post in context here.
{The Honorable Mention, by Judith Eastman, is in the Down Time thread Hide and Seek}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[NPC - Lt. Mabel J. Henriksen - Ops]
Mabel had to weigh her words carefully. She had a sneaking suspicion that Matt knew where Mott was, and that her words (or a Matt-ified version thereof) might reach the Bolian before she ever did.
=A= "Well, Matthew, we just finished renovating the VIP quarters, and someone needs to do the proper inspection of them. Make sure the replicator is working and all that," =A= she declared. It was a lie with a hint of truth in it.
=A= "The Captain heard he might be available, but be warned - there is paperwork." =A=
Best way to make a story believable? Just add forms.
=A= "But we can get him pizza. I'm actually in the mood for pizza." =A=
You can read the post in context here.
Mabel is so clever. What a dear.
Here's the post itself:
Mabel had to weigh her words carefully. She had a sneaking suspicion that Matt knew where Mott was, and that her words (or a Matt-ified version thereof) might reach the Bolian before she ever did.
=A= "Well, Matthew, we just finished renovating the VIP quarters, and someone needs to do the proper inspection of them. Make sure the replicator is working and all that," =A= she declared. It was a lie with a hint of truth in it.
=A= "The Captain heard he might be available, but be warned - there is paperwork." =A=
Best way to make a story believable? Just add forms.
=A= "But we can get him pizza. I'm actually in the mood for pizza." =A=
You can read the post in context here.
