Alora DeVeau

Just leaving this here. LOL

Welcome! Glad to have you!

Second part to @Drex0379's story that gives some good insight into family dynamics. IC: ((Bajor Capital, Some Hotel, Drex’s room)) Ayra’s reaction did not surprise Drex. And it was the main reason he waited so long to call her. He bit his lower lip and waited for her sister to finish her list of invectives. When she finally took her breath he dared to reply. Drex: I’m sorry. oO She forgot a couple of names this time Oo I just arrived here and didn’t really do anything yet, I cannot ask to leave now. I told you. You should have organized it before I graduate… Ayra: I did! :: She interrupted him :: And you could not come, either! Drex frowned, his mouth half opened. oO What had been the excuse back then? Oo Drex: I-I couldn't make it. Ayra sighed and moved his gaze away from his brother. Drex could imagine her thinking and felt guilty. He was using his job as an excuse, he surely could ask and perhaps received a positive answer, but he was not even going to try. Drex: I'm not the helmsman of my life right now, you know. I have a lot of people to answer to. I oO That's not an option Drex, don't say it! Oo Maybe... but I don't guarantee anything, if I'll be off duty... maybe I can call in and take part in the ceremony from the Station. She kept silent for a few seconds, but they seemed hours to Drex. He knew her too well. He could tell any single word passing through her mind, or at least he could tell the main meaning of those words, and he did not like any one of them this time. And he knew he was an open book to her as well. oO I shouldn’t call Oo He sighed lightly. Ayra: Is it the truth, Drex? :: She returned to face the screen :: Or something happened with Gar? Drex shocked his head. Drex: No, I like Gar. I know him and you’ll be fine, I’m sure. :: His tone dropped oO Tell her! Oo :: It’s not about you and Gar, you know I’m happy if you are hap… Ayra: Is it dad, isn’t it!!!?? She raised her tone. It sounded almost triumphant at Drex’s ears. Ayra: Oh… :: She pointed at him :: I can believe you’re still mad at him! Drex: I’m not mad at him, but you can imagine what will happen if I show up. :: He replied :: Ayra: So? Are you going to wait until he'll get old enough to lose his memories? It will take a couple of centuries or more! :: she snorted :: I promise you, he will leave you alone. Drex: You cannot promise me this, but thanks :: he smiled a little :: I don’t want your day ruined because of me, Ayra. Ayra: You should let me decide about this. Drex: Please… let it be. I know I have to settle the matter with dad, I will. When he’ll be ready to listen to me. She lifted her eyebrows. Ayra: It will take more than two hundred years, then. :: She commented ironically :: Com’on Drex. He just wants you to be happy… I’m not saying I approve of what he told you, but… Drex: Please, stop. :: He raised his right hand to ask her to silence :: You were not there. I have all the rights to be mad at him. Ayra: He’s just worried. Drex: I understand that, but he should know me. He should respect my choices. Ayra: He is proud of you. Drex looked away. Was he really proud? He was once, I knew it because he had told him so. But now? He did not want him to join the Fleet. He did not explain his reason he was tough. Drex could just imagine it had something to do with his uncle, but Jorx never really said a word. Ayra: You have five weeks. I want my twin with me. Please, try to be here. The Ensign returned to look at his sister. She made a sweet smile. Drex nodded. But he was not convinced. Drex: I have to go. I’ll call you, I swear. Ayra: I love you. Drex: I love you, too He closed the call and stared at the black screen. oO Oh, good job, Drex! Very smart of you. She will talk to him now. If this was the plan you could have told her months ago. Oo Drex: Oh, shut up! I will call him! I'll make things right. But not today. He pushed back the chair and stood up. He looked at the window. It was night. He grabbed a jacket and walked to the door and left the room. Drex: Some fresh air will help. END ============ Ensign Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

Welcome and welcome back!

Firefights make one hungry.

Remind me not to go bowling with Kettick...

I just love this title! LOL Yes, we are dealing with a blob!

@Kailar Tod has a knack for descriptive narration that I always appreciate!

@Alexander Brodie

Congratulations, glad to have y'all!!

Welcome! Glad to have you!

Glad to have you on the flipside!

Someone likes scans a little bit too much....

Congratulations and welcome! Glad to have you!

Karen/Stefania shared this with me and I knew I had to share it here. I love the creativity, of order and logic through music which, especially with certain styles, is very orderly and logical. I found it a fascinating idea and felt it deserved to be here. **** ((OCC. inspired by the awesome Aly's Haukea music description 😉 I had to do something about Vulcan music and about a Vulcan ritual to find the pure logic trough music : The Vulahar. )) ((Little Risa - On a secluded beach - Starbase 118)) T'Paun, a youthful Vulcan musician and composer at the age of 63, served as an apprentice to the deputy priestess of the Vulahar temple on Vulcan. Notably, she possessed a striking beauty that even surpassed human standards. Over the course of several years, T'Paun dedicated herself to intense preparation and the nomination process for the revered Vulahar ritual." The Vulahar is a Vulcan ritual and a mental discipline that aims to harmonize the mind and the body with the universal order through musical expression. It is not common for all Vulcans, but only for those who have a natural affinity for music and seek to transcend their individuality. The Vulahar can take several decades of study and practice, and it is usually performed at the Temple of Vulahar in the Vulcan's province of ShiKahr. The final ritual involves a musical performance with a Vulcan master, who evaluates the candidate’s musical skill and logical purity. If successful, the candidate receives The Vulahar medallion as a symbol of their achievement. T'Paun's candidacy was repeatedly rejected in accordance with Vulcan tradition. In fact, throughout Vulcan history, acceptance had never come easily to anyone. For some, their applications were perpetually declined, and it was customary to attempt up to 99 times without ever achieving success; 99 was indeed the maximum acceptable limit, even for a Vulcan. Even the founder of the ancient discipline, the esteemed priest Svok, nearly a millennium ago, restrained himself by refusing 98 times before ultimately awarding himself the medallion of the Vulahar. In the final ritual, Svok performed the flawless musical composition in complete solitude. At that time, he was the sole follower, the only priest, and the exclusive master of the Vulahar. On Earth, he might have been deemed a misunderstood and forgotten individual, but on Vulcan, over the centuries, he had earned recognition as a highly acclaimed master of logic and musical purity. His composition, "Gok'shiv n'pana", is still played and repeated with each candidacy, serving as a test of purity to separate the less dedicated. ((OCC "Gok'shiv n'pana." = "The Flock's Starling.")) The Tradition had nearly faded into obscurity, surviving only through the sparse notes of a few monotonous songs and rare melodies carried on the winds of the desert plains of ShiKahr. It had only been rediscovered almost 200 years prior and had finally gained acknowledgement and respect from the Vulcan Music Academy, ranking second only to the realm of science—perhaps even higher, some might argue. After T'Paun's fourth application was rejected, she spent nearly two years deliberating over the perfect instrument, torn between the harp and the Vulcan flute. Ultimately, she chose The Vulcan Flute. It is a wind instrument made of metal, with a cylindrical body and a conical mouthpiece. It has six finger holes and a thumb hole, which allow the player to produce different pitches and tones. The Vulcan flute has a range of two octaves, and can produce both soft and loud sounds. The sound of the Vulcan flute is clear and pure, with a slight metallic timbre. It is often used to express the inner thoughts and feelings of the player, in a subtle and refined way. The Vulcan flute is considered a difficult instrument to master, as it requires precise breath control and finger coordination. Following her fifth rejection, in accordance with tradition, she opted for self-exile, leaving behind the familiar comforts of her home planet, Vulcan. Thus, she found herself at starbase 118, seeking solace in a place far removed from Vulcan's temptations and distractions. Here, she sought refuge in the unfamiliar, drawing inspiration from the chaos that surrounded her, ultimately discovering inner peace through the stark contrast. She began to play a monotonous, detached melody, a tune devoid of emotion—a painfully dull composition. Could this, at last, be the solution she had longed for? The sought-after goal? Surprisingly, the melody possessed a poignant quality, although it remained true to the typical monotony and flatness associated with Vulcan music. Its purpose was to clear the listener's mind, inducing a state of deep meditation, effectively lulling them into a state of profound boredom. At a considerable distance from the vibrant center of the festival, on a secluded and isolated beach, T'Paun found herself playing her instrument in an atmosphere of profound solitude. Only a handful of Vulcans stood as her audience. With a few deft touches on the panel , the instrument seamlessly continued the melody on its own, creating a repetitive loop that provided a steady backdrop. This allowed T'Paun to transition seamlessly into her own vocal performance, her voice weaving effortlessly through the recurring notes, enriching the musical tapestry with her hauntingly beautiful vocals. Wuh eshikh panu. (The Desert World) This is the world where we belong. A world of sand and stone. A world of harsh and dry A world of strength and will. This is the world where we survive. A world of challenge and struggle. A world of danger and risk. A world of skill and wisdom. This is the world where we thrive. A world of order and harmony. A world of logic and reason. A world of peace and balance. This is the world where we meditate. A world of silence and calm. A world of no emotion and no distraction. A world of mind and soul. This is the song of the desert world. A song of flat and steady. A song of no melody and no rhythm. A song that only we can hear. The song concluded with a jarring, discordant final note, reminiscent of the abrupt sound of an alarm clock or a burglar alarm. This disruptive noise served as a mechanism to snap the listener back to reality, occasionally jolting them awake in a rather unsettling manner. -- ================================= Apprentice Priestess of the Vulahar Temple T'Paun SB 118 ID: C239604KS0 =================================

Congratulations everyone!

Welcome to the madness!

Glad to have you with us!

He gets that a lot. 😄

Awww, thank you!

I just love Cirus' attitude!

MWAHAHAHAHA

From the narration of @Alexander Brodie Yet.

((Promontory’s Quarters, Deck 4, ‘Oumuamua)) Avander hadn’t stayed too long at the awards ceremony. It was just all too much. And it was still too soon since they had lost Jack. No one had talked much on the return trip from the failed mission to find Jack’s parents. They hadn’t been pursued, but it might have been a nice distraction if they had been. No, instead, everyone just sat in numbed silence. The debrief hadn’t offered much relief either—they reported their experiences to the Commodore, who, as always, took things in stride. The recovered FO from the Caboto had been taken in for more interviews, but Avander had given up hope that that would be a profitable avenue of inquiry. And then there was tonight's awards ceremony. For a minute or two he had been able to forget about the loss of Jack as they celebrated the accomplishments of the rest of the crew. But Avander didn’t want to forget. It was like a betrayal to Jack for everyone to be celebrating while he was… What? MIA? Dead? As much as Avander didn’t want to think about it, the pain felt right—like the only appropriate way to honor Jack and his sacrifice was to be miserable. It’s not like Avander didn’t know that there would be risks, even losses, with missions. Intellectually, he knew that. Expected it even. If you had asked the fresh-faced cadet if he might lose colleagues—friends—over his Starfleet career, he would have answered all too quickly, “Of course.” But that was in theory. Experiencing it was another thing altogether. Avander was suddenly very hot. He ripped his jacket off violently and threw it with all his might—without bothering to take off his combage or awards or anything—against the nearest bulkhead where it gave a soft, unsatisfying *flop*. He sank to the floor, eyes aflame. Promontory: Computer, play “See You Again” by Wiz Khalifa. It was the song that his mom used to play when she was thinking about her dead husband. He fell asleep, crying softly, as it continued to play on repeat. -- Lt Avander Promontory Intelligence Officer USS Oumuamua O239910AP4