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Kela Idisha

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About Kela Idisha

  • Rank
    Cold but Friendly

Fleet information

  • Current Vessel
    USS Discovery
  • Current Post
    Security Officer

Personal information

  • Gender
    Female
  1. ((Reposting with the whitespace that was dropped when I first posted - admins please feel free to delete my previous two posts. Sorry to spam the thread!)) Cadet Kela Idisha stepped from her refrigerated shuttle into the halls of Starbase 118 through a thin mist of condensed water vapor. Brushing a wayward strand of white hair from the blue skin of her forehead, she glanced about the bustling docking zone. After saying farewell to the other Andorians who had shared her refrigerated shuttle on the voyage to Starbase 118, Kela slung her pack across one shoulder, instinctively making sure it wouldn't interfere with drawing the hrisal blade that adorned her hip. She then drew herself up to her full height and stode with exaggerated confidence through the crowd, hoping she would soon spot a map that would direct her to the offices of the diplomatic service so that she could check in. Instead, though, Kela's attention was diverted by the smell of one of her favorite Earth foods, and the realization that she had been too excited to eat since the day before. Following the aroma, Kela found herself seated at a ramen bar. "Ramen with tofu skin," she said. "Iced, with extra salt." Perhaps the proprietor was accustomed to Andorian tastes, or perhaps Kela's enthusiasm was too apparent to resist, but he leapt into action with no hesitation, and in moments the dish was ready: noodley soup steaming around bits of ice and tofu. "Have you just arrived on board?" asked the cook, a young Japanese man. Kela nodded as she stirred the ice with her chopsticks. "Yes. You're my first stop." "I'm honored," the man said, casually. At the first taste of the soup, Kela was in heaven. "This is wonderful," she said. "Even better than San Francisco." He lowered his head humbly. "We have access to more exotic spices out here. The highest quality simply cannot be replicated. As I think you know, judging by your blade." Kela raised her eyebrows and her antennae, silver eyes meeting the human's. "Are you a connoiseur of blades, then, as well as noodles?" she asked. He placed one hand behind his head and laughed self-consciously. "I suppose it's a bit stereotypical, but the ancient culture of my homeland interests me deeply, so - yes, I do dabble in bladesmithing as well. But I have never seen an Idisha blade in person." Kela nodded and stood to unfasten the tough cloth belt that carried her sheathed hrisal. While Andorian and Klingon strangers invariably recognized the maker's mark of her clan, keth Idisha, on the blade's handle, it was rare knowledge among humans. After folding the belt carefully, she offered the bundle with both hands across the counter. The man reverently set it on a clean portion of the counter and drew the blade forth. He examined it in silence for a short while, then resheathed it and passed it back to Kela. After she had refastened it and sat down, he spoke. "It is impossible to mistake the quality of the blade, created by a people who never stopped venerating the craft even into the modern day. It truly deserves the name hrisal - 'perfect killing tool.'" For the first time since arriving, Kela was a bit uncomfortable. To her, the hrisal was a tool for defense and an emblem of pride in family and craft. But literally, yes, the word meant 'perfect killing tool.' And though she had never used it to take a life, that was what it was designed for, ultimately. She found herself wishing that she had met a human who was enthusiastic about keth Idisha's famous stage dramas, instead. But fighting was an inescapable part of Andorian culture, and Kela had fought her share of duels against bigots who didn't like that her birth mother was an Aenar Andorian, one of the blind 'others' from deep within the ice. Not to the death, just until their blood struck the floor of the icy arena. It was that rigid, aggressive culture that Kela sought to escape by joining Starfleet. She looked forward to working with aliens of all kinds, meeting new life and hopefully making friends. But if Starfleet butted up against an aggressive people that understood only force, well - Kela knew how to deal with that, too.
  2. Sorry, that came out as a big blob of text without paragraph breaks for some reason. But it seems I can't edit to fix that (or the spelling of my name). I'll get the hang of it, though.
  3. Cadet Kela Ishida stepped from her refrigerated shuttle into the halls of Starbase 118 through a thin mist of condensed water vapor. Brushing a wayward strand of white hair from the blue skin of her forehead, she glanced about the bustling docking zone. After saying farewell to the other Andorians who had shared her refrigerated shuttle on the voyage to Starbase 118, Kela slung her pack across one shoulder, instinctively making sure it wouldn't interfere with drawing the hrisal blade that adorned her hip. She then drew herself up to her full height and stode with exaggerated confidence through the crowd, hoping she would soon spot a map that would direct her to the offices of the diplomatic service so that she could check in. Instead, though, Kela's attention was diverted by the smell of one of her favorite Earth foods, and the realization that she had been too excited to eat since the day before. Following the aroma, Kela found herself seated at a ramen bar. "Ramen with tofu skin," she said. "Iced, with extra salt." Perhaps the proprietor was accustomed to Andorian tastes, or perhaps Kela's enthusiasm was too apparent to resist, but he leapt into action with no hesitation, and in moments the dish was ready: noodley soup steaming around bits of ice and tofu. "Have you just arrived on board?" asked the cook, a young Japanese man. Kela nodded as she stirred the ice with her chopsticks. "Yes. You're my first stop." "I'm honored," the man said, casually. At the first taste of the soup, Kela was in heaven. "This is wonderful," she said. "Even better than San Francisco." He lowered his head humbly. "We have access to more exotic spices out here. The highest quality simply cannot be replicated. As I think you know, judging by your blade." Kela raised her eyebrows and her antennae, silver eyes meeting the human's. "Are you a connoiseur of blades, then, as well as noodles?" she asked. He placed one hand behind his head and laughed self-consciously. "I suppose it's a bit stereotypical, but the ancient culture of my homeland interests me deeply, so - yes, I do dabble in bladesmithing as well. But I have never seen an Ishida blade in person." Kela nodded and stood to unfasten the tough cloth belt that carried her sheathed hrisal. While Andorian and Klingon strangers invariably recognized the maker's mark of her clan, keth Idisha, on the blade's handle, it was rare knowledge among humans. After folding the belt carefully, she offered the bundle with both hands across the counter. The man reverently set it on a clean portion of the counter and drew the blade forth. He examined it in silence for a short while, then resheathed it and passed it back to Kela. After she had refastened it and sat down, he spoke. "It is impossible to mistake the quality of the blade, created by a people who never stopped venerating the craft even into the modern day. It truly deserves the name hrisal - 'perfect killing tool.'" For the first time, Kela was a bit uncomfortable. To her, the hrisal was a tool for defense and an emblem of pride in family and craft. But literally, yes, the word meant 'perfect killing tool.' And though she had never used it to take a life, that was what it was designed for, ultimately. She found herself wishing that she had met a human who was enthusiastic about keth Idisha's famous stage dramas, instead. But fighting was an inescapable part of Andorian culture, and Kela had fought her share of duels against bigots who didn't like that her birth mother was an Aenar Andorian, one of the blind 'others' from deep within the ice. Not to the death, just until their blood struck the floor of the icy arena. It was that rigid, aggressive culture that Kela sought to escape by joining Starfleet. She looked forward to working with aliens of all kinds, meeting new life and hopefully making friends. But if Starfleet butted up against an aggressive people that understood only force, well - Kela knew how to deal with that, too.
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