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Trellis Vondaryan

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Everything posted by Trellis Vondaryan

  1. I've stated many, many times that Trellis is fascinated with Romulans and their technology. He would jump at the chance to serve using it and learn from them.
  2. It was a toss-up between Security and Helm, but eventually went with Helm. Trellis is actually rather good at Tactics, so could handle that side of the department, but honestly a bit of a coward when it comes to defending people. He's also a terrible, terrible pilot. Technically he passed his shuttle proficiencies, and that's mostly because you can set up autopilot. I considered Marines, but then realized there's actually an Intel division in most marine units, so he could totally fit in there. Really could have clicked all three of those and been fine with the answer.
  3. A good Captain would have got the Caretaker to send the ship home in the first episode, thereby making all the other shortcuts null and void.
  4. I went with cloaking device. Other species in the Trek verse have their own versions of replicators, so that technology seems relatively common. I was tempted with transwarp options, though decided that there are still too many limitations on it for it to be completely effective. Not be a particularly aggressive person, I didn't go with ablative armor, weird weapons or assault modes. In the end I thought cloaking would be the most useful for long-term use.
  5. ((Counselors Office, USS Gorkon)) ::Tasha took a deep breath and looked at her mother. She gave a nervous smile and glanced back at the door before her.:: T. MacFarlane: Are...are yeh sure about this ma? N. MacFarlane: Aye, it will be good f’ both o’ us...righ’? ::Tasha took her mother’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then took another deep breath and pressed the door chime.:: Fortune: Come in! ::Corliss grabbed up an additional PADD, smiling as the door opened.:: Fortune: Hello again, it’s good to see you again, Lieutenant. ::Stepping into the room Tasha flashed a small smile at the pink haired Ensign.:: T. MacFarlane: Aye, I’m a bit more awake this time. This is m’ mother, Natalie. Ma, this is Ensign Fortune, th’ ships counselor. N. MacFarlane: Pleasure t’ meet yeh. Fortune: Pleased to meet you as well, ma’am. Although, I take it this is less of a social visit then? ::She chuckled, waving at the seats.:: Fortune: Sit, sit. Would you like something to drink? T. MacFarlane: Tea please, f’ both o’ us. Jus’ ask th’ replicator f’ MacFarlane blend three. ::The two women sat and Tasha nervously tugged at her sleeves. Natalie placed a reassuring hand on her daughters thigh.:: N. MacFarlane: Its alrigh’ Tasha. ::Corliss chuckled, flicking on the replicator as it made up the two teas. She brought them over, setting them on the small table.:: Fortune: here we are. ::Tasha gave a small smile and looked to the pink haired Betazoid.:: T. MacFarlane: Shall we cut t’ th’ chase counselor? ‘ow much o’ m’ counselin’ record ‘ave yeh seen? ::Corliss sat with her own tea, earl grey with a massive amount of sugar, so much it was probably just sugar with a dab of tea. She sipped it slowly, humming.:: Fortune: I did read over what happened with your arm...and I know, certainly, that this whole dream incident has probably had a horrendous lasting effect. Is...that what this is about? Or something that happened in the dream? T. MacFarlane: Well, it actually ‘appened when I was…’ow old? N. MacFarlane: Four. T. MacFarlane: Four, but I didnae remember until th’ dream brought it up. ::she took a deep breath.:: Counselor, I ‘ad a twin sister. She died when we were four. I...I didnae remember she existed until th’ dream, an’ even then I wasn’t sure if it was true. ::Corliss tilted her head, holding the cup lightly.:: Fortune: As children, what we remember and what happened sometimes melds together, so I can understand why you felt uneasy about that... N. MacFarlane: It...it was my fault. Evelyn slipped and fell down th’ hill. ::tears were starting to roll down her face.:: I...I...there was nothin’ I could do t’ save ‘er! M’ baby girl! Gone! ::Natalie began to sob, and Tasha gently wrapped an arm protectively around her mother.:: T. MacFarlane: Hush ma. Its alrigh’. Its good t’ let it out. ::Corliss handed over the tissues easily, nodding.:: Fortune: Yes, it’s never good to hold it in. I can see you’ve been holding it in for years, ma’am. N. MacFarlane: ::Dabbing at her eyes:: Y-yes. It w-was more than t-twenty years a-a-ago. ::Corliss leaned back, tapping the cup lightly.:: Fortune: It sounds like it was a horrible freak accident, and I’m sorry this has happened...however, Miss Natalie, have you ever talked about her? N. MacFarlane: O-only at th’ t-time. M’ husband was th-there too. Who else could I m-mention it t-too tha’ m-might underst-stand? Fortune: To...anyone, I suppose. Talking things out...helps, in their own way. It hurts, it reopens old wounds, but for them to heal they have to be reopened, sometimes. I think Tasha has her own grief on this, although separate and different. T. MacFarlane: Aye. ::Corliss put her empty cup down, sitting up.:: Fortune: Tasha, you didn’t recall her until the dream. Twins, even siblings, that find out they once had a sibling that died years back still feel grief. It’s a grief, a sadness, of missing someone you don’t know. Miss Natalie, you knew your child, and that’s a greater sadness that could possibly be told in words. However, I think if we...talked about her, perhaps what she was like, what she loved to do, how alike or different she was from her sister...perhaps that can lighten the load a tad, as it were. N. MacFarlane: Evelyn was...happy. Always. Both o’ yeh were. ::She looked at Tasha, struggling to hold back the flow of tears.:: Yeh were inseparable, always laughin’ and smilin’ with each other. Yeh were sad an’ quiet f’ months after th’ accident. Tha’ ‘urt almost as much as losin’ ‘er. Eventually yeh returned t’ yeh usual ‘appy self. I think tha’ must o’ been when yeh started t’ forget about ‘er, tha’ was also when yer father joined Starfleet. ::She reached into a pocket and with drew the holophoto of the twins. She gently traced Evelyn’s features with the tip of a finger and gave a sad smile.:: Not quite identical. Evelyn was more like yer father, yeh ‘ave his eyes, but my hair. She was all ‘im. ::Corliss smiled softly.:: Fortune: They look happy together. T. MacFarlane: Ma...th’ photo. Where was it taken? N.MacFarlane: In our garden. Only a few weeks before...before...I can’t! ::The photo slipped from Natalie’s fingers as she buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Tasha’s arm snapped out and caught the photo before it hit the floor. Carefully she turned it around and looked at it with intense scrutiny, committing the details of her sister’s face to memory.:: Fortune: ::nods:: I understand. These things take time. We can’t fully wrap everything up in one session-not that I would force you, anyway-but, I think this was a good thing… ::She hummed, watching Natalie a moment.:: Fortune: I...would suggest counseling, privately, for yourself, ma’am, perhaps to slowly shift through the grief itself. It certainly wouldn’t hurt...we can pause here, for now, if you prefer, or we can go over something else besides Evelyn, if you feel up to it? N. MacFarlane: I...I think...I…::She rubbed her palms across her eyes, wiping away the tears.::...I...twenty years an’ it still feels as fresh as th’ day it’ ‘appened. Why Miss Fortune, why does it still ‘urt so much? Fortune: Grief, whether over a death of a family member or the end of a relationship, is varied and...odd. It’s not like a scratch you’ve made with a fingernail that heals but burns for a while, nor is it like hurt feelings after an argument. ::pauses:: There’s an old saying about wounds healing, but a death is much more like a scar. A scar is made from a deep wound. Sometimes when the wound heals over with a scab, we think the underneath is healed, but it isn’t. If you, say, pull back the scab...you get all the pain and heartache as if it just happened. N. MacFarlane: So...you think that my coverin’ it up is th’ problem? I should o’ let it out earlier? ::Corliss gave a soft smile.:: Fortune: However, there’s something to be said about...letting a wound ‘air out’. If you dig into it, continuously obsess over it, that’s not good either. But slowly retelling what happened, remembering her in small instances, can gently let that heal into a scar. The scar won’t fade, you won’t forget your daughter, but eventually, you’ll be able to recall her without having it ache so badly. N. MacFarlane: I...I think I understand...thank yeh counselor. ::She went quiet for a moment as she gathered her thoughts.:: So...how do yeh think I should start doin’ tha’? Fortune: Small steps, of course. Perhaps, rather than speaking about what happened that day, why not talk about say, her first word or something they both did that was silly as children? Or, you could write it all down in a journal of a sort, and if you don’t remember something, that’s okay. It’s...been a while and memories are fickle things, but any little bit helps. N. MacFarlane: A journal...I like tha’ idea. Make it permanent. Keep her memories with me. T. MacFarlane: D’ yeh think I could read th’ journal...once its done o’ course. ::A solitary tear traced its path down, Natalie’s cheek and she gently took Tasha’s hand. She squeezed it and nodded.:: T. MacFarlane: Counselor, d’ yeh know any way tha’ I might be able t’ remember more o’ Evelyn? I...I remember nothin’, ‘cept ‘er accident. Fortune: ::Smiles:: I think a journal is a perfect starting point. You can write down memories, hopes you had for her, so on. For you, Tasha...hmm… ::She thought for a moment, jiggling her foot lightly.:: Fortune: You said you were four, yes? T. MacFarlane: Aye, four. Fortune: Mmhmm. At that age, significant events do leave an impression, whether they end up being traumatic or something as simple as moving rooms. ::hesitantly:: There are several ways of...forcing memories to the forefront. One such is hypnotism, however, there’s also the threat of implanted memories. There is also the...interesting therapy in which one is brought back to their younger years. ::Both MacFarlane’s sat back and listened. Hypnotism seemed like a plausible option, and this therapy where one was brought back to their younger years seemed like an odd, yet sound idea.:: Fortune: There’s also support groups, which I would greatly suggest to you both. Natalie, there are quite a few for the parents of children lost at a young age. Tasha, you may find groups that focus on talking through their own memories of siblings or close friends that they lost at a young age to be a great help. N. MacFarlane: Thank yeh, you’ve given us much t’ think about. ::There was a determined fire in Natalie’s eyes, as though finally speaking about her lost child had brought something to life within her.:: T. MacFarlane: Aye...d’...d’ yeh think we could perhaps try one o’ those therapies yeh mentioned? Th’...th’ hypnotism or younger years thing? Not today o’ course, but perhaps next time? Fortune: Perhaps, yes. How about in a few days time, you come back around and we’ll discuss it further and see what we can do? ::Hypnotism wasn’t so hard to figure out, plus it seemed to help assure Tasha...and well, it had a good track record with buried memories, even with the small amount of false ones.:: T. MacFarlane: I would apreciate tha’, thank yeh. Fortune: Wonderful! Alright then, is there anything else I can help with? If not, perhaps we’ll break for lunch then, and I assume the rest of your visit, Natalie? T. MacFarlane: Aye, lunch sounds like a good idea. Thank yeh f’ yeh time Counselor. N. MacFarlane: Aye, Thank yeh Miss Fortune. ::The two MacFarlane’s stood and headed for the door. The session had pulled many things to the fore, and it would take quite some time for them to work through all of these new, and reawakened feelings.:: ----- Natalie MacFarlane Civilian Holonovelist & Lieutenant Tasha MacFarlane Chief Engineer USS Gorkon G239311TM0 & Ensign Corliss Fortune Counselor USS Gorkon G239510CF0
  6. @Tasha MacFarlane I think you might be fooling yourself with that line. 😘
  7. Especially when there's a rabid tribble invasion involved. 😄
  8. I went with marine. In part because the mentality often associated with them is slightly counter to the traditional Trek ethos. In part because they often fulfil a similar role to security. And in part because they're "outside" the regular chain of command, so figuring it out who commands who, jurisdiction on things, and incorporating them into any non-specialized plot can be hard.
  9. While I'm not sure Trellis would ever actually leave Starfleet, if he ever did he'd want to explore the areas of space that aren't Federation territory. He'd most like to see parts of the Romulan Empire and would figure out some way to consult with them on something technology related.
  10. Trellis can throw shade every once in a while. So deadpan.
  11. What's a bit odd is I wanted to play Trellis very ruthless and yet had to abide by Walter's old pesky Starfleet ethics... 😉
  12. Trellis joined because, like most Vissians, he's very curious. His particular interest was in warp and other FTL technologies. He wanted to learn about as many different technologies from around the galaxy as he could, and, if possible, improve upon them. So since Vissia is a Federation member Starfleet seemed the best option to do that. Had Vissia been part of the Romulan Star Empire or Cardassian Union he most likely would have joined their forces for the same reason. So it's for almost entirely selfish reasons that he joined.
  13. Hello! I'm originally from California (and hopefully moving back soon-ish). Welcome to the fun and madness.
  14. Do we have an August poll for best line?
  15. Janeway. Who wants to get lost on the far side of the galaxy and then repeatedly told EVERYONE ELSE IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN MY CREW for the foreseeable future? Seriously, there were at least seven instances where she could have led the crew back home in an instant (Q, the Caretaker, wormholes) and she always was "nah, we'll do this some other way." How there wasn't a mutiny or seven I'll never understand. Also, no opportunity for promotion...
  16. I like the design of the DS9 era with more (subtle) technological advacement but the uniforms of the first few TNG seasons.
  17. ((Observation Lounge, USS Gorkon)) ::She didn't know why she was sat here, staring out of the window. Any console where she could access the ship's sensors would be far more helpful in her current endeavour. The many sensor pallets of the Gorkon were vastly superior to her own eyes, and yet she desperately wanted to see the arrival of the Triumphant in person, rather than through a console screen. ::So there she sat, and there she squinted, waiting for the tiny, familiar dot of white to get close enough for her eyes to find it. ::It took a while, but there it was. A smile like the breaking dawn caught her lips, and she watched as the punchy, powerful little ship took a slow, graceful arc toward the planet. The orbit insertion was a complicated, fancy manoeuvre -- Walter was clearly letting his helmsman show off, and it made her chuckle. She watched the little ship circle the planet for a while, indulging in a little nostalgia about her time aboard it.:: Brunsig: =/\= Brunsig to Reynolds. I'll be in the transporter room in five. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Aren't you supposed to ask permission to come aboard? =/\= ::She grinned at the impatient sigh that echoed through the channel.:: Brunsig: =/\= I assumed that the Ktarian chocolate puff I've brought with me would do the talking. =/\= ::She was out of her chair like a torpedo from its tube, heading straight for the closest transporter room.::: ((Personal Quarters, USS Gorkon)) ::The next morning, the first sensations she had on waking was perfect comfort and warmth. Warm, in no small part, due to the other body in the bed that was laid against her, the comforting weight of an arm draped over her waist, legs entangled with hers. Her small movements prompted a breath of air against her neck, a kiss just underneath her ear.:: Brunsig: Morning, Sunshine. Would you like bacon and eggs, or toast? ::She replied with a sleepy laugh, recognising the words. He'd first said them to her back on the Triumphant when she, as a newly promoted JayGee, had dozed off in the torpedo control room after working through the night on the targeting systems. When he sat down next to her to check her work, she had inadvertently curled up to him in her sleep, as though he were her favourite teddy bear. Back then, those words had been said with the express intent of embarrassing her; Walter couldn't be accused of being good with tactile contact, either giving or receiving it. ::Since then, it had become an odd little ritual of theirs, a greeting shared whenever they woke up together after some time apart. She usually got the offered breakfast, too. Today, she thought, she'd go with the bacon and eggs. ::Her train of thought was broken by another kiss on her neck and a murmured question in her ear.:: Brunsig: Gone back to sleep? Reynolds: Just thinking. Brunsig: I've a cure for that. ::She laughed and he grinned, pulling her close and into a kiss that made it explicit exactly what his intentions were.:: ((Hiking Trail, Taidel Woods, Trill)) Reynolds: So… I haven't told Dylan about you and I. Brunsig: I'm surprised, Cupcake. Look at me. This is my surprised face. ::He scowled at her. Of course he did.:: Reynolds: Oh, don't be like that. I just… I wanted to give it, to give *us* a little time. To get used to being us again. ::He didn't answer for a little while, and she didn't push. There was no need and she had no inclination to do so. They had miles to go, and she knew him well enough to know that prodding for an answer would only earn her sarcasm and snark in return. ::Instead, she let herself soak in the surroundings. It was a pleasant day; the sun was peeking through the canopy, casting dappled light across the trees and bushes of the forest floor. The trail underfoot was soft, cushioning their booted feet, and easy enough to follow. And it was quiet, with only the breeze rustling through the leaves and the spirited calls of birds to listen to. It was heavenly, the kind of place she usually only got to visit in a holodeck.:: Brunsig: I'm assuming this means you want to tell him now. Reynolds: I'd like to. But only if you're happy with it. Brunsig: It makes no odds to me. ::She hadn't expected a ringing endorsement -- this was Walter Brunsig she was talking to, after all -- and yet she found that response somehow disappointing.:: Reynolds: Okay. ::His eyes, the colour of the clear sky above the trees, swung away from the path ahead to look at her. Brunsig: Look, Quinn. We're… ::he hesitated, a discomforted frown on his face,:: ...family. A screwed up family, but nevertheless. So I'm fine. It's good. You should tell him. ::She smiled at him, and she was granted one of his rare, fleeting smiles in return. It changed his face, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Funny, the way things went; when they first met, she couldn't stand him. And now here she was, loving him so much that sometimes it hurt.:: Reynolds: I love you. Brunsig: And yet you're usually so smart. ::He smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes, laughing. His fingers intertwined with hers as they continued their walk, hand in hand.:: ((Shuttlebay, USS Gorkon)) ::The next day, he was here. The shuttle door opened, pivoting on its hinge, and Dylan stepped out. She swore he was taller than the last time she'd seen him -- but then, she always did. He'd had a hair cut, which suited him, and he was more tanned than when she'd left. Which, instead of concealing his freckles, had only seemed to birth even more. It was funny how similar mother and son looked -- the both of them with brown hair, slim builds and naturally pale, freckled skin -- given that there was no shared DNA there at all. ::With his bag swinging over his shoulder, he smiled at her and she smiled right back, her heart leaping at the sight of him. He sauntered over, straight into a hug, and didn't even complain when she kissed him hello on the cheek.:: Dylan: Hi Mum. Reynolds: Hey, Pickle. ::He pulled away and frowned at her, evidently finding his childhood nickname entirely inappropriate now that he had reached the grand old age of ten. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around Walter's waist, and an awkward grimace took root on the blond captain's face. But to Quinn's surprise, he returned the hug, scowling at her when she dared to smile about it.:: Dylan: Dad. Brunsig: Offspring. Dylan: Hi. Brunsig: Yes. ::Quinn rolled her eyes, while Dylan grinned as he stepped back; unlike her he was entirely content -- happy, even -- with the monosyllabic exchange. His gaze swung between the two people he considered his parents, and then with the with offhand manner that only children could pull off, he stuck a pin the balloon of apprehension she'd spent the past few days inflating.:: Dylan: So you two are back together, huh? ::She stared at him, her carefully prepared and rehearsed speech out of the window with one throwaway question. Quinn wasn't sure if she was annoyed or relieved.:: Reynolds: Uh… Yes. We are. ::There was a pause as she hesitated, debating whether to ask him how he felt about that, when her eldest child preempted her again, this time with a casual shrug and a nod of approval.:: Dylan: Neat. I'm hungry. Can we eat? ::She stared, wordless, while Walter snorted in undisguised amusement. Jabbing his thumb toward the large shuttlebay doors, he answered the youth's question.:: Brunsig: Come on, Pickle. Let's hit the lounge. ::Eyes twinkling with mirth, Walter shot her a look before starting off, Dylan trotting along beside him. All she could do was shake her head, and follow.::
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