Corliss

Death comes, as Death has always came, but not in the way most suspected of that night, of being explosions and loud ruckus. Death came silent, and swift, and smelling of rotted eggs.

Aaaah! How sweet, Quinn, how sweet! QwQ I'm all blushing now lol. Congrats everyone!!!

Congrats, congrats!!! Party time ❤️

Congrats, everyone!! Drink up and be merry ❤️❤️ ❤️

Awwww yeah 😎 Loved everyone's stories! This was truly an eventful writing contest this year!

Personal Log of Doctor Zazi sh’Viakrik, stardate 2399.0214 This log has nothing to do with the previous mission, or at least, not in an official capacity. The takeover by rogue members of a Vulcan clan who designated themselves as ‘vampires’ have been arrested and are being put to justice, the ship itself is healing and the people who were injured have been well and truly tended to. This is about the after. I was in my office, cup of Katheka on the side, hardly touched. I had just finished an emergency surgery and was filling in requisition forms. Gods above we need as much supplies as the USS Tripp can carry right now. My door opened, and I wanted to snap at whoever it was. This was my time, the hour I had left to myself before being dragged into the fray, or being forced to be alone with my thoughts. It was Jenny. She looked pristine as if this were any other shift on the rotation. Today she had on a beautifully tailored set of black pants, flat shoes, and a scrub top that could easily be shucked off in case of blood spillage. We had a lot of those recently. I was pretty sure this was not the scrub top she had come on shift clothed in, but better than my own doctor’s coat that, on the edges, wore a spattering of green and red blood. Her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed in a bun, and she smiled at me, holding a platter with two cups of what I knew to be tea, a bowl of sugar cookies next to them. “Doctor,” she said, and I sunk lower in my seat, prepared for the gentle admonishing. “You’ve been up for nearly two days now.” “Yes, and nearly half the ship’s been unconscious for the same amount of time,” I snarked back, despite knowing it was not her fault. I feel embarrassed about it even now, that in the face of gentle friendship, I snapped at the hand offering it. Still, she never wavered, stepping inside and setting the tray down on the desk, heedless of anything I was doing. She took a seat across from me, and picked up the cup, placing it in front of me near the PADD I had some files pulled up on. “Just means our CMO shouldn’t run herself into an early grave.” Those words had been spoken so many times. I was known for taking on multiple shifts, using the fact that I could sleep for only a few hours before jumping into the fray again to my benefit. It didn’t mean my coworkers didn’t worry, and I was sure that they had goaded Jenny into being the one to come and see about me. She was better at tampering my blood pressure. I stared down at the cup as she took up her own, sliding the tray away after settling the set of cookies before us. Her hands, slender and pale, cupped the tea with a middle finger looping into the handle. She picked her cup up, settling it against her lips, the tendrils of steam rising every second. Exhaustion seeped into my very joints then, as if her entering and providing me with tea had sent a signal to my brain. ‘It’s time to rest now.’ My brain was a liar. I watched her take a sip before settling the cup back down onto its small saucer, gifting me another easy smile, the blue of her eyes sparkling in the light of the office. “Doctor. Your tea.” “Right,” I mumbled, and I cupped my hand around the tea, finger looping in the handle before bringing it to my lips. My eyes shut out of instinct, the srjula hitting my lips and giving a shiver down my spine. I lowered it, smacking my lips as I opened my eyes. “Srjula. You never fail to remember.” “Three years together, sir,” she had said, a hand reaching out for a cookie, breaking a piece off to dip in her tea. “You act, every single time, as if it is our first day together, and that it is something of a torture to know you.” Just as she knows me, I know her. I know the tea in her cup is more milk than tea, that she will dip the sugar cookie in it three times, tap it against the edge of the cup, then flick it as if trying to get the drops off. Only then will she attempt a bite of the cookie, and she will smile and compliment the cookie as if it were the first cookie she had received in her entire life. My dark blue hand reaches out to one cookie, and I drag it to me as if the weight of it made it seemingly impossible. I’ve never liked sugar cookies. But I like Jenny. We eat in silence, Jenny’s nimble hands plucking up pieces and dipping them, while I tiredly watch it as if it were a private entertainment show, a jester putting on tricks to make me laugh. I feel as if someone were cupping my cheeks, dragging their fingers across my eyes and downwards, as if trying to force myself to sleep. Jenny put her now empty cup down, letting out a long sigh that usually accompanied her finishing any drink sent her way. “A little quiet helps the soul.” “So you say,” I grumbled, a barb neither meant for her nor anyone really. I’ve been told my bedside manner could use some work. She nodded, brushing a hand across her forehead, bits of stray hair following her hand and pressed into place. “I daresay our counselor will have his hands full.” Oh noble Syron, he who uses logic above feelings. If I was quite honest, and I usually am, he’s been good for the crew. He is stalwart, unbending to anyone’s anger or pleading, and quite honestly a breath of fresh air. I hadn’t gone to see him, but after this last…hoorah, well, it may be in my hand of cards this time. “Syron’s good at his duties,” I had answered, and she smothered a laugh. “What?” “Normally you have something quite prickly to say about folks. Has Syron gained a little recognition from the mission before?” Of course he had. The darned man had put himself in danger just to try and save me from a falling rock. He was foolish and hard-headed and I gave him a piece of my mind only to get laughed at in my face. I admire people who think they can do that. I admire it more when they’ve saved my life. Still does not save him from me calling him many, many things under my breath. Jenny just had that knowing smile on her face, and I grimaced, looking away from her for a moment before my attention slowly wavered back to her again. “He’s…okay.” “So he’s wonderful then, in Zazi speak.” I sometimes wondered was it really the fact we had been working three years together that we knew each other so well? Or had it been something else? Her smile shifted to a frown in my silence, her head tilting, allowing her bangs to slide forth once more across her forehead. “Zazi.” There it was. That tone. That tone that had came forth in our last year of Academy, that tone that popped up so many times aboard the USS Tripp. It was one that I knew by rote. ‘Zazi, when have you last slept? Zazi, four days ago and for three hours is not healthy. Zazi, as a professional, you of all people should know the dangers of burnout.’ I felt my shoulders climb up to my ears, my face darkening from a rush of blood to my face. “I know,” I mumbled back at her, hoping this conversation would not be had. “I get it, but I have to get this all done, no one else is going to be able to do it.” My antenna quivered in the air, twitching and shrinking down lower as well. I heard her sigh, and didn’t know when my eyes had started to drift down. I looked back up at her, and her face softened. “Being CMO is hard, and I know you’ve only been for the last year. Have you…considered…taking a break?” Laughable, and she knows it. The last time I ever took a break was our first year here, when the ship had been assaulted by a memory-eating nebula, our minds adrift and unknowing. I had felt…a lot that day, and had taken a week off to destress. As did many, many people, for many other reasons. “Breaks are for others. We’re low in this department until a new influx of Ensigns, and it’s only us and the other four nurses.” “It’s not fair to leave it all on you, Zazi. You have just as much importance as anyone on this ship.” “My duties,” I had said, my hand curling into a fist and shaking under the desk out of…adrenaline or anger or something, “are never-ending. I won’t put them off on someone else, I am not…that way, and you know that.” “I do,” she had said, looking at me as if she could physically peel away the layers and see what made me up. What triumphs and failures I had experienced, what life had put me through. “But it’s no harm in asking for help.” “I don’t need help!” I had shouted, and now, hours later, I feel just as horrible for doing so. Jenny had not done a thing to me, and yet here I was, shouting at her, standing up from my desk and motioning wildly, almost knocking my tea over that she had brought me. “I don’t need help, I just need to get this done! Once it’s done, I’ll-I’ll just have more to do, more notes to put together, things to send to Syron or my opinions on those who need to go to work and those who shouldn’t, th-the replacement hand for Traxxon…” The list was never-ending. There was always one more thing to do. Syron needed updates for the mental wellbeing, Traxxon’s hand that had been necessary to amputate, Kyra’s fear of inheriting her mother’s heart condition. One more thing, one more thing on top of another, and I was drowning- I hadn’t realized when she had side-stepped my desk, nor when her arms wrapped around me. My own hands came up, grabbing at her shoulders as if to push her away, but they didn’t cooperate. They just kept her closer. She smelled of antiseptic and flowers. Her hands were grounding in a way better than any meditation I had attempted. The texture of her shirt, how it appeared to be flowers but felt slick and smooth at the same time, how it bunched under my fingers. I’ll never forget the way it felt in my hand that day. Our relationship was never more than cordial, than professional. …today I learned two things, both of them just as terrifying as the next. One: I may be in love with Jenny. Two: I needed lighter duties, or to step down as CMO. Temporarily, at least. The work is killing me, literally. My blood pressure has yet to really recover. I know that the USS Tripp is the last on the list to get new recruits, but I’m going to force Starfleet’s hand. CMO will have to wait until I can handle it again, when and if that happens. And when it does, I hope Jenny’s by my side when it happens. …she’s a great nurse, an even greater friend…I’ll just…not think about anything else but that. That’s the appropriate way of handling this, yes? What am I doing. I’m talking to a PADD as if it can answer me. Tomorrow I have an appointment with Syron. We’ll…we’ll discuss this. First about me stepping down as CMO, or at least taking on much lighter duties than I had been, and…then about the…about Jenny. For now, I’m going to rest, as I promised I would do. I wonder what tomorrow will bring. Log, end.

Ya'll the ones flinging to your deaths during Hunger Games for some chocolate cake 😂 I just want ONE cupcake!

"THIS REVOLUTION IS FOR DISPLAY PURPOSES ONLY." -Last Tango in Cyberspace

Fabulous, as always UwU

Whoop, congrats guys! Hard work this year with an awesome prompt, haha!

"I always loved the wind… ...until that mission on Telstrus 3." They were visiting Betazed this shore leave, an unexpected treat for sure. Her father was pleased to hear about her surprise visit, and while she knew her mother would be busy back on Earth, there was still a twinge of regret there, along with her brother out on his own mission amongst the stars. As such, she dressed in her favorite pink summer dress, her blonde hair flowing free today, under a beige wicker hat with a bow on it. The walk to the greenhouse was never long, just enough to get the mind wandering about, but not enough to tire her out. At least not now that she was older and no longer smaller than her kneecap whose steps equaled to that of three adult ones. A knock at the door before she pushed it open. "Dad?" "Corliss!" She heard a distant crashing and couldn't help but let out a small sigh of a laugh, shutting the glass door behind her. Plants upon plants upon plants surrounded her, creating their own version of a rainforest, one might say. One ivy crept along the top of the roof, and a tall tree bearing fruit that glowed blue caught her eye as her father appeared. "You've grown!" "You say that every time!" He had his arms open and she couldn't help to walk into the hug being gifted, both of them squeezing as hard as possible, feeling her ribs creak and she had to smack his back, laughing. "Let go, hah!" "Fine, fine!" He did, albeit one hand remained on her shoulder, a happy goofy grin remaining on his face that was echoed back on hers. "My, it has been a long time, hasn't it? Oh, where's that boy you wanted me to meet?" And there it was. It made her face heat up and she sighed, shaking her head, arms crossed. "Dad, I'm not a little girl anymore. He's not a boy. He's a Starfleet officer as well, you know. Medical." "What a field to go into! Mind you, I can't say anything," he laughed, his hands now on his hips, looking as always over the top, his glasses shining in the light like one of those cartoony villains. "I remember taking that course of study for half a semester! Never could wrap my mind into the whozits and whatsits, so good show on him!" She couldn't help rolling her eyes, snickering. That was just her dad, being his usual self really. She'd been told they were so alike it was scary but she didn't see it. She had no green thumb and he was all green thumbs...so, yeah, she didn't see it. "Anyway, we thought we'd go into town and eat, it's kind of our thing," she grinned. "There's a place I promised to take him that has that sweet tea that's a bright green, remember? The uttaberry chai." "Yes yes, your mother adores it, although I think she likes it more for the decorations, I think," he nodded. "Well, let me finish up here and we'll get our wheels rolling!" With a tap to her shoulder, he was off back to wherever the crashing had come from. She shook her head with a laugh, leaning against the doorframe for a moment with a sigh. It was colder than she remembered, or maybe, she was used to the ship being warmer. In fact, she regretted not lugging along a thin jacket. The mountains made everything feel just that much...heavier? Plus the snow in the winter, the sadness when the plants would inevitably die, the refreshing spring or fall weather... The sun was beaming down now, warming her up through the glass of the greenhouse. Honestly, it was such a beautiful day. Perhaps she could convince both of them to go out and walk around the central plaza, the hedges always made such a wonderful maze... "And I am ready, dear daughter!" He skidded back into view with a grin, this time wearing a checkered shirt and slacks, plus his mirrored glasses of course. She shook her head, smiling. "Way to make an impression, Dad." "Why of course! Who did you think you got your sense of fashion from?" ...she was not going to answer that. Instead, she opened the door with a sweeping arm. "After you, dear father." "Why thank you, dear daughter," he playfully bowed, she bowing back, both of them cracking up in laughter. Two steps out the door, the wind picked up. "And you see, I thought I could make-Corliss?" The wind whistled around the greenhouse, her hair picking up along with it like fingers sliding through the strands, her hat tilting as she froze in place. "Corliss?" The wind whistled angrily, more a shriek of anger than a simple whistle, the rain pelting on them from the clouds above. "To the cave!" came a voice, she knew the voice, she did, but she couldn't place them amongst the terror of the storm. "We'll be safe there, go, go!" "I..." She could feel her breath pick up, catch in her throat like someone reaching out and squeezing it tightly, her heart hammering behind the bones that kept it safe. She fell in the mud, one hand sinking lower than what she felt was safe, shouting out in pain from the jerk of her wrist. Lightning cracked across the sky, the wind gearing up into the shrieking crescendo that only toddlers could ever seem to reach, and just as she pushed herself up, her eyesight swinging up, a large tree branch was sent flying her way. "COR-" "-liss?" A touch to her shoulder had her jerking, blinking furiously as she stared at her dad, who frowned back at her. "Are you alright? You've got your net up," he tapped at his temple. "...just....habit," she mumbled, staring up at the blue, empty sky. "Lots of people onboard value their privacy." It took a moment, but he pulled his hand away, nodding quickly, a simple smile on his face. "Right! Right, yes, that whole...keeping to oneself thing." "..." she shook her head quickly, pretending to brush a stray hair away from her cheek and clearing her throat before smiling. "Well, we're late, I suspect, we should go." He sighed, doing that full-body sag as animatedly as he did every action that continuously surprised her. "You and your mother are so very alike, do you know that?" "What!" she squeaked out, for a moment brought out of those dark, painful memories. "We are not!" "You are indeed!" He laughed, turning around to start down the path once more, and her jogging after him huffing and puffing. "Neither of you are very good about talking about yourselves." Oh. Well. He had her there. She winced, looking away, the hat tilting as if to hide her face from him. "There's not much to talk about. Just the usual...death-defying missions and all," she laughed uneasily, letting it trail off as the soft wind died down, leaving her arms covered in bumps of skin. "I'm not so sure why everyone is so okay with that," he said, lightly. "I've never enjoyed my children close to death, after all." "It's just how Starfleet is, Dad. Traveling...seeing things...doing things..." dying a few times, being yanked into an alternate reality where everyone she knew and loved was de- "How exhausting," he sighed, a hand touching his temples as he shook his head, grimacing again and making her laugh. "And to think, you've not told me about a single mission so far! Here I am, left to float about the days, alone as ever," he sighed louder, his arms dangling like a dramatic teenager, and her face hurt from smiling so hard. "Aw, Dad, don't be like that," she bumped his shoulder playfully, smiling. "I tell you things. Boss, on the other hand..." "Your brother is so secretive, shhh!" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, a finger to his lips with a giant grin. "Wouldn't want the neighbor boy to hear his dastardly plans and reveal them to the cats!" She burst out into a laugh, swatting at him and they both started to laugh harder, their eyes clouding over from their joy as she leaned on him again, wheezing with laughter. "That's horrible and you know it! It's protocol!" "It's mildly ridiculous!" he grumbled, his hand making motions in the air before he let it dropped, letting them walk in the easy silence for a moment. "But that's what it was, right?" "...huh?" "A mission," he said. "Something happened last time, yes? Your face turned white, and normally you do that around blood." How could he know her so well? He did raise her, after all, so maybe that was part of it. She let out a very long sigh, the kind that leaves one exhausted but weightless, as if the suitcases of stress were let down and they could lie on the ground for a little while. "...yeah. A mission." He nodded, but didn't continue. They walked some more, turning the corner of the trail onto the concrete of the road. She cleared her throat, the small hubbub of the town echoing around them. "Remember when I was little, and I liked storms?" "Yes!" he laughed. "You were such an interesting child! You'd open your window at night and your room would be soaked but you loved the chaos of the night!" he laughed harder, patting her back almost a little too heavily. "Your brother told you one day you'd be taken away by the wind, and you believed him for a little while." "Mmhmm." There had always been something about storms that entranced her, the way the rain poured, the way the wind howled and squealed, arching around the mountains and bringing blasts of cold with it. "I always loved the wind... ...until that mission on Telstrus 3." The tree limb smashing into her, the wind giving it enough gust to force her back, her feet scrambling at the ground for purchase. All she could do was hold onto the tree branch as it continued to fly, the wind giving it assistance, her heart nearly smashing its way out of her chest from fear and adrenaline mixing together- "I guess the mountain wind just...it made me think of it," she shifted her hat back a little, smoothing out her bangs fussily. "But I'll be fine. Like always." "Hmm," he had his hand on his chin in thought. "You should-" "Dad," she interrupted with a flat glance, "if you say 'talk to your mother', I will tell them not to let you have cake." "So cruel!" he groaned, shaking his head with a sigh. "No, not your mother. You should talk to the counselor." "I am the counselor," she laughed. "Remember? I called you all and told you? It's been what, three years? You can't-" "That's not what I mean," he set his hand on her shoulder again, that soft half-smile where he was trying very hard not to insult her or hurt her feelings, while at the same time telling her something that she probably didn't want to hear, "that Carys woman, she's onboard too? And Vatta?" "Vaala, Dad." "Ah, her! The enthusiastic learning protégé!" He sighed, still smiling. "They're not just there to exist around you, dear. They're there to help as well, even if Vaala is only just stepping into the profession." He...also had a point, although she didn't want to accept it. Perhaps he was right, she and her mother were quite similar in that. Corliss didn't bring up anything, and her mother acted like everything was okay with herself. Or, she'd never told Corliss if she'd ever had counseling herself. Rather, it was always a storm of mystery about her, an outsider with only the most distant of relations. She rubbed her neck, smiling. "Yeah, Dad. I'll do that." "Alright then, now let's go see this boy that's so taken your eye!" She let out a very low sigh, an amused smile on her face. He just could not help calling Loxley a 'boy', could he? Then again, Dad was at least three times their own age, so it wasn't too weird for him to see them all as children. The wind picked up again, a few crinkly leaves skittering down the road, a few small children laughing as they ran by them. Her hair ruffled with it, slipping over her shoulders, the bumps of skin ghosting about her shoulders fast as wildfire. She clenched her hands, swallowed, and started walking again, content to once again ignore the behemoth waiting in the wings.

*raises hand* I know you said not to include others but what about mentioning names? Like "Well, you talked about someone named Vaala right? How are they" but Vaala herself is not in the story.

"Boop!"

Awww Jo!!! Making me blush 😊 I really enjoy slipping into everyone's character for a moment, really seeing how their thoughts connect and intersect. Every session is always a blast to go through, and you all keep me on my toes I love it, bring it on UwU