Lephi

Welcome to the fleet! Congratulations on graduating!

Yay!! Congratulations on graduating! Very excited to see where you end up, and what kind of adventures you get up to 😊

Welcome Julan, and welcome back Valin! So nice to see your digital face again! Can't wait to see what adventures you both get up to!

@Alieth may have been able to suppress her shudder, but as a reader I openly embraced the chills this fantastic piece brought me. Very well done in a scene of very well done pieces. ((Sickbay, Deck 2, Sasu Gol)) The body of the dead doctor on the bloodied biobed, lights that flickered, a dance of sinister shadows. Even more ominous words, a dark account of what was, of how the madness had percolated through the starship as it entered the Rift, vague strokes of how to detect the perturbations, how to profile the advent of that which induced the madness. Something in the nurse's statement prompted Alieth to suspect that they had found a cure, the old-eyed young man's reply to her enquiry on the subject, as uncanny as their surroundings. And then, the shadow came, taking the light with it. Doors burst open, pouring night from the corridor, pitch blackness, all limbs and fangs and eyeballs and things scarcely identifiable beneath the tide of gloom, just sketches of the horrors it heralded. Motion, Starfleeters diving for cover and a young man alone, peering into the gloom. A hand surging forward, seeking to defend a man who looked on, undaunted at his fate. A voice, flat and toneless, that barely concealed the despair of the moment. Alieth: Diinr! Now! Two voices, emotion entwined with their vocal cords, a bequest of their species. Stoyer: He’s going to get hurt. The clarion call of a golden voice, anxiety and distress. Next, a gilded howl, with his feet firmly on the ground, festooned with fierceness. O. Marshall: Get down, you mad [...]! An eternal second, lengthened by the roaring of shadows and the hysterical beeping of Alieth's tricorder... and the petite Vulcan was on the move. A quick sprint to cover the short gap between her and the young man, a hand outstretched to his shoulder. The shadow striking. A sudden flight powered by some indescribable force, intangible and impossible, until the very solid duranium of the wall halted her flight. A crack, a thud. A new slam against the floor, pearls of green blood garnishing the ice-cold metal, right next to the stain they had been examining back to what seemed like a lifetime ago but had in fact occurred only minutes before. Stoyer: Alieth! A voice, familiar, distant, so remote amidst the blanketing obscurity and the cottony unreality that pervaded her brain. And then another voice. Brand new, distinct and terrible, reverberating echoes in and out of her head, words clearly pronounced to add gravitas to each and every syllable. Diinr: Don't you see, Lieutenant? Don't you see this is our fate?! He laughed and in the desperate, contused somberness of her mind, Alieth could only watch .... and shiver. Because there was nothing that could stop the madness that had ripped all logic and sense from what was happening in the Sasu Gol. And then, like a mantle, a shroud draped in nightmares and hopelessness, the shade wrapped itself around the nurse, an immense and terrible second skin that crept across his flesh and into his veins and deep in his eyes until the two were one, black on pale skin in stark contrast, a grin like a gaping wound in the middle of a face that wept darkness. A terrible creature, shadowy wings and Vulcan arms, as an otherworldly shriek shook the very structure of the sickbay. Diinr: It demands sacrifice. ::His voice boomed with the slip of shadow, amplified by the swirling madness around them.:: You will become the next. And, at that moment, at that very moment, Alieth knew that their mission was doomed to failure, that they could do nothing against it, too big for them, mere mortals. And then there was a light, bright crimson, shimmering, silhouetting a figure of an oversized Bear Marshall. A scarlet hero in the face of the dark. All around them, eyes and faces festered and leaned out of the shadows, before them all retreat with a deep hiss. That sibilance, then, a retreat, a flicker of lights, a split second of nothing. And then, all of a sudden, when eyelids once again fluttered wide open, it was gone, and everything was done. The lights had returned to their former selves, dim and diffuse, barely a fraction of what they should have been, flickering a thousand times in the ice crystals that covered everything, in the polished surfaces of dented metal, in the frozen blood, in the unfired weapons, in the silent tricorders and the mute combadges. Stillness. Diinr and the shadow had gone. A human man collapsed on one side of the room, a Vulcan woman crumpled on the other. Somehow the third man, still standing, frozen in the midst of time, swear words slurred in two languages through fluttering limbs and quivering lips. Alieth could not blame him, if she could have allowed herself to do so, she would have done the same. Finally, the prostrated man broke the silence. Stoyer: Diinr? O. Marshall: He's gone. He was gone, just like that. Just as he had appeared along with the dead doctor, still on the biobed. Alieth tried to shake her head, in the face of such an accumulation of senselessness. She regretted it instantly. When the Sasu Gol ceased to spin around her, the less endearing Marshall was at her side, tricorder in hand. O. Marshall: Alieth, you still with us? Logic once for yes, twice for no. Alieth: ::grumbling:: Ponfo mirann1 …::In more audible tone:: If that will convince you that my physical and psychological state is adequate .... logic. The words were spoken with the soft, emotionless cadence that was her trademark, but in a way it was implied that, were it not utterly unworthy of her, she would be strangling the man right now. Or tossing a Padd to the man's forehead. She started to disentangle herself from the debris and away from the Vulcan-shaped hole she had left in the wall. If nothing else, she had to give the human credit that he'd managed to make her forget the despair that had overwhelmed her. Turning it out of sheer exasperation, but that was an issue she could deal with at a later time. When she had managed to climb back to her feet and before she or the Bear Mountain Jo called brother could say a word, Stoyer spoke again, also standing upright once more, and as disoriented if not more so than Alieth had been. Or more. Stoyer: You guys ok? What was that? O. Marshall: That was one goddamn crazy Vulcan. Is that what happens when your lot loses their minds? The gaze of the petite science chief shifted to the empty space that Diir had left next to the biobed. This time, she was able to suppress the shiver that ran through her from head to toe. Alieth: To some extent. :: The woman's eyebrows drooped a notch more::: Of course, without the darkness… ::waving her hand towards where Diir had been::: ...or all that. Some death perhaps, but no need for a sacrifice. That... that made no sense. All eyes focused on where the nurse had been, as if they could somehow make sense of what had happened, or of the Vulcan's words...of the man himself...of that thing he was. O. Marshall: He said sacrifices. More than one. Alieth: Only the doctor is dead.... or has been sacrificed, if that is what Diir intended. Despite her words, the Vulcan's eyebrows furrowed a little more as the ramifications of her own words began to reach her foggy brain. Stoyer: Response O. Marshall: Human blood on the doorway. The Vulcan Doctor committing suicide. ::He pointed to the biobed.:: That. You tell me the logical path from there. The equations don't fit. Alieth: That is a lot of casualties, but perhaps not enough. :: Looking at the others:: We are probably the next objective... if there are no other crew members left on board who have managed to evade him so far. Somehow, at that moment, Alieth had the impression that the air was even colder than it had been since they had transported to the freighter, as illogical as that seemed. Stoyer: Response O. Marshall: Just… a thought. Maybe he lured whatever it is here. Maybe it became… part of him. Or it became part of him. I don't know. ::His heart had started to come down from the rafters, blood no longer singing in his ears.:: Whatever it is, I want out of this room and off this damn ship. Where does the umbilical connect? The thought that something, that darkness, that blackness was a living, distinct creature, using the madness of the nurse and the ship, all the deaths they were aware of or sensed was extremely disturbing and, at the same time, profoundly logical. Alieth did not like it one bit. Alieth: The logic of that thought is sound, as far-fetched as it may seem, whatever it is, it certainly does not want us here, nor does it want crew of the Sasu Gol... or the Triumphant's here. The petite Vulcan let out a tiny sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Alieth: As for the umbilical... if I remember correctly it joined the two central decks of both ships, :: turning towards Stoyer:: near engineering, right? Stoyer: Response Alieth: While the possibility of fleeing the ship seems reasonable, given the impossibility of returning to the Gorkon via transporters, heading for the umbilical coupling seems reasonable. :: Before either of the others spoke, she held up a finger:: HOWEVER, we have not yet accomplished the mission we were tasked with: we neither know for certain what has happened nor have we found any survivors :: she paused, her eyes settling on the deceased doctor :: Not any we have been able to save. O. Marshall/ Stoyer: Response She was waiting for those answers, and while her instincts, even in spite of her still clouded mind, screamed that she should get out of there as soon as possible, the more rational part of her, more awake with each passing minute, still had grounds to remain there. Alieth: I remind you gentlemen that we came here not only on the way to the bridge, but because we detected evidence of a human passage relatively recently. Not to mention that the presence of the Triumphant shuttle on the shuttlebay suggests that there are still officers from that ship on board. O. Marshall/ Stoyer: Response Alieth: That is a good point. :: She was silent for a moment:: This is what we will do, we will make sure we undock the umbilical to make sure the Triumphant is clear, and we will make our way to the shuttlebay. If we find any survivors along the way... we will take them with us. It was a compromise solution, something that satisfied neither side, and yet it covered part of what each wanted... partially. O. Marshall/ Stoyer: Response With that, the small group left the sickbay, not by the door they had come through, but by the opposite one. As well as through the opposite door to the one through which that which had enveloped and, at the same time, was part of Diir had appeared. They might have no choice but to encounter it again later, but the Vulcan was certainly not about to run for it, at least not so soon. Despite that thought, the petite woman couldn't help but glance back before leaving the room to see if it was following them. Her eyes fell on no ghoulish grin, no shadowy figure, but her sensitive ears caught the echoes of maddened laughter just at the edge of her hearing before she trotted behind the two humans, who had moved swiftly forward using their long legs, down the aisle. OOC: 1Ponfo mirann → Vulcan, an expetive that cannot be translated; maybe a swear word ================================= Lt. Alieth Chief Science Officer USS Gorkon NCC-82293 E239702A10 Image Collective Facilitator /Art Director =================================

Congratulations on finishing the Academy! Very excited to see what adventures you get up to here!

I think this might be my favourite line in my time here at SB118. Thanks for the literal spit-take, @Jo Marshall. My nose hates you now.

Another delightful piece from a super talented and skilled writer. I'm not crying, you're crying 😢 ((Corridors, Sasu Gol)) Luminous threads of light spiralled through the halls of the starship, shadows stamped upon them by footsteps drumming a frantic tattoo against the deck. Ragged breaths stirred still air, hearts thundered in chests, sweat beaded on brows. It couldn't be real. None of it could be real. Christalle eyes flew furiously down the passageways as they rushed by, each one expanding like a deep black cleft, shadows seeping over walls and floor. Something raced overhead; a lacerating mist of gloom that vanished into the bulkhead partition almost as soon as it appeared. Jal grunted as his shoulder collided with an unexpected barrier, allowing him a split second to look up and see the Lieutenant and the Ensign close behind. Desoa: Which way were the lifeboats? Bjarnadóttir: Keep— The Icelandic woman skidded to a halt as the ensign stumbled and sprawled on the ground in front of her. Grabbing the young Denobulan’s bicep, she dragged him back onto unsteady feet. He looked back at her, his blue eyes wild, and she felt twin stabs of frustration and sympathy. Fresh out of the Academy and already slammed headfirst into his limits, barely able to do more than run. Capturing his gaze, she tried to offer some reassurance by way of answering Desoa’s question. Bjarnadóttir: We’re close. Just down the corridor, by the mess hall. Desoa: You're doing well. Courage in everything. The man's massive hand squeezed the Ensign's shoulder, providing what consolation he could in the tight and dangerous circumstance they hadn't anticipated to be in, even while the Ensign quaked like a sapling in a gale. Those dark purple eyes snapped to Petra, concern carved like caverns in the corners of the usually jovial countenance, giving the same without the extra epigrams he doubted she'd believe. She nodded in return, no words required. The forcefield covering where the passage split in two ahead of them was a shredded wreck, barely functioning, power draining from it with each diminishing wave of remaining operating systems. Their combadges hissed determinedly; communications trying to break through an encroaching veil of webbed silence, useless in the face of… It was impossible to say, let alone think about, and Jal determinedly aligned his thoughts with getting to the lifeboats. If there were any of them left. If anyone had managed to get off the Sasu Gol. Up ahead, barely ten metres from their position, one of the crew lay prostrate on the deck. Until it wasn't. Until it moved, dragged by an unseen force, forward by the arms. Squelching noises of writhing and shuddering as what was once a Vulcan disappeared out of view. Desoa: Petra— Bjarnadóttir: I see it. ::She wished she didn’t. Squeezing her eyes tight for just a second, she opened them again and shook her head. The man was already beyond saving.:: We can wait, or we can go around. Either has its risks. Your call, sir. Desoa: We'll be spotted less if we split up. ::He pointed down one side of the flickering forcefield split passage, and then the other.:: You go that way. Ensign, go with. Get to the lifeboat as soon as you can. If I'm not there, jettison. Bjarnadóttir: You’d better be there. ::She wagged a finger in his direction.:: You still owe me a bottle of brennivín. Despite the circumstance, the Tyrellian smiled, recalling happier times on board the Triumphant, when they weren't fending for themselves aboard the Vulcan vessel. The crack of a breath came alongside hesitation; unsure of what to say. Thunk in his gut and hollow of his throat. With a heavy hand and an even heavier heart, he clasped his friend's gold shoulder. Dark eyes of mauve seeking ever-observant blue. Desoa: We'll see each other again. Your smouldering wine needs a suitable home. Bjarnadóttir: Good. Áfram með smjörið.¹ She patted his hand and then nudged his shoulder, urging him the direction he’d chosen. Wasting no further time, ignoring the weighted tug in the middle of her chest and the temptation to look back, she turned toward the terrified young ensign and shepherded him down the corridor. Kaleidoscopic markings on the Tyrellian's skin shone beneath the emergency lighting as he watched the Lieutenant move through the passageway. Jal clenched his fists, nerves he had left steeled against the thin veil of courage beginning to wear away. Footsteps hewn in trepidation, headed down the deserted corridor to the echoes of a gravelly breath humming the old melodies to him from the dark recesses. Long forgotten songs from the old Tyrellia. Devotional and worshipful, like a lyric prayer. Sonorous and vibrant. Tonal and celestial in essence. Speaking of ancient trails, the breath of home. The planet has become barren and the voice summoned him to a place of death. Jal went slowly along the deserted halls, ignoring the hungry need and growls emanating from the murky crevices. Xiva, Originator, and Redeemer. Flashes of movement on the edges of his vision, always out of step, out of reach, moving slower, then faster. Watching and waiting. Watching and hunting. Twitching just out of reach. A grim parody of his walk. Diaphanous warnings etched in suffering. Each step a new tenet of the old. Believe in oneself when all else fails. Liheni²… Liheni… Liheni… It would be so easy to give in. Slide down the wall. Rest. Wait for rescue. Screams of dread ripped through the corridors, bypassing his senses and pierced through his chest like a sonic spear. It drew him back to the world of the living with a clap of thunder and sparked movement in his limbs. He broke into a sprint, dashing through the vast cathedraline ship toward the lifeboats. Bjarnadóttir: Don’t— A metallic clang thundered through the hallways, and Jal rounded the corner to see Petra slamming her fists on the outside of the escape pod door, beating a futile demand against unyielding metal. The ensign stared back at her from the inside, dilated pupils turning his eyes black as pitch, blood smeared across the Denobulan curves of his face and across the gold shoulders of his uniform. Bjarnadóttir: Don’t you dare! ::She thumped the locked door once again.:: Let us in right now! The young Denobulan shook his head and stepped back out of view. Hisses whistled through the air, a deep rumble of ignition and the rattle of moving apparatus, and then with a boom which rattled the deck, the pod ejected. Through the small window, they watched the pod speed backwards, thrusters operating as they should from the localised power source contained within, burning through the limited fuel source in bright blue and purple flashes. Silence. Alone. In the dark. Metallic scraping behind, whispers licking like embers of a dying flame. Tyrellian turned to Icelander, unspoken intentions clear. They needed to hide. fin ¹ Icelandic: Move your butt / get on with it (literally: on with the butter). ² Tyrellian: Courage. -- Commander Jal Desoa First Officer USS Triumphant G239304JM0 & Lt. Petra Bjarnadóttir Chief of Security and Tactical USS Triumphant T238401QR0

Some might consider Stahma to be a misunderstood poor old soul, but not me. Living for the truths Rishma spits in this. Another excellent piece from the super talented @Elizabeth Snow (( Snow House, Lake Cataria, Betazed - Stardate 239811.18, evening )) While Lephi was busy with her dad and brother goofing off, Elizabeth decided it would be the perfect moment to steal some time with her mother. She grabbed her mother’s arm and began to pull her towards the lake. E.Snow: We should walk and talk. Rishma could sense the anxiety coming from Elizabeth and nodded knowing her daughter needed her. They began their walk around the lake arm in arm. She missed days like these. They walked in silence for a few minutes before RIshma finally broke their silence. R.Snow: What is going on, my little dove? She smiled. Happy that her mom was the one who broke the silence as she was still figuring out how to tell her. She kind of just blurted it out. E.Snow: Lephi has been reassigned to the Gorkon for now. Rishma’s heart sank. She hated that for them, but she knew what they were going through. She and Geroge had spent so many years apart and it wasn’t the easiest thing to go through. At least they didn’t have any children involved.. Yet. R.Snow: I’m so sorry, my dove. Is there anything I can do? I know I can’t go to Starfleet and make them put you two together, but anything to ease things? E.Snow: Well, I did talk to the Captain, he and his husband are each Captains of their own ships and he did give me some great advice, but I would like to hear how you and dad made it through. Rishma smiled and nodded. R.Snow: It wasn’t easy. We both came from two different worlds and your father was still in the academy at the time. So our story started out long distance. We spent a lot of our time together via video transmissions, recording videos for the other and sending them to let them know we were thinking about the other, and doing our best to schedule days off together whenever we got the chance. It wasn’t easy, but it was our love for each other that kept us close even when we were apart. She smiled at her daughter. R.Snow: I know you love Lephi and I know what she loves you. Give it time, Honey. You all will be just fine. Elizabeth nodded and smiled considering her mother’s words. She was right though. They would survive and their separation may not be ideal, but they were Starfleet and there were plenty of ways out there that would make the distance seem small. Their love was just one. E.Snow: How did you manage the worry? Weren't you afraid of something happening to him? R.Snow: Of course I was, but you can’t dwell on things that are beyond your control, Dove. You’ll run yourself ragged and be of no use to anyone. She nodded. Again she was right. Perhaps she would work on meditating each morning and night. It seemed to help and so had the advice given to her by Kurt after the kidnapping. Some things she needed to start doing and being more mindful of when life got her down. E.Snow: ::smiling:: Thanks, Mom. She hugged the woman and then let go. There was something else she needed to get off her chest. Something that always weighed heavily on mind and her heart. E.Snow: There is something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. I know that I’ve put a strain on your and Ma’s relationship and I’m sorry for that, but I was just wondering how you were holding up? Risma looked at her daughter and stopped walking. She moved around to where she was now facing Elizabeth. She put her hands on her daughter’s shoulder and then took her left hand and raise Elizabth’s chin so that their eyes met. R.Snow: Elizabeth Merandar Snow, you listen to me. You did no such thing. Your grandmother and I have always had a rocky relationship because of the way she is. In no way is any of this your fault. Your grandmother has always had a flair for the dramatics and I’m sorry that she decided to pull something with you. But that’s on her. I know she hurt you when she did that and I know what you’re going through. I’m here for you if you need to talk about it. She nodded as she listened to her mother. She didn’t realize how much she needed to hear that. It felt as though a weight was lifted off her shoulders. Though it did hurt, but now she understood that it wasn’t her fault. That the situation between her grandmother and herself wasn’t because of her. R.Snow: I honestly didn’t think she would have ever done this to you or Emerson. But just know that if you and Lephi do wind up working it out with your grandmother, that you need to keep her at arm's length. If you all decide not to pursue a relationship with her again, that we completely understand. I honestly don’t know why she does some of the things she does. But you definitely need to set boundaries with her no matter the outcome. Don’t let her make you feel guilty in any way. Elizabeth thought about her mom’s words carefully. In everything, she was right. She was glad she had a mother that she could talk to and that her mother was always there knowing what to say or do to make everything better. If Elizabeth ever got the chance to experience motherhood, she hoped that she would be as great a mother as the dark haired woman standing before her. A guilt that she had felt for so long was finally gone. If her grandmother didn’t want a relationship with her, then that was fine. E.Snow: ::smiling: Thanks, mom. I really needed that. Rishma embraced her daughter in a long, tight, hug. R.Snow: Always, my Dove. Elizabeth looked out at the lake as the pair resumed their walk. It was such a beautiful evening and she hoped that Lephi was having a great time. Now that she had talked with her mother, she felt so much relief. The pair continued talking as they walked. She couldn’t wait to begin showing Lephi all the wonderful things she loved about this world. ============ Lieutenant Elizabeth Snow Chief Medical Officer USS Chin'toka NCC-97187 Veterans Affairs Team Wiki Team D238803EH0

Thanks for the nod! This one took some time to write as it was very emotional for the both of us. It involved a lot of setting it down and walking away for a day or two at a time, but I'm so happy with how it turned out and I love that you love it 😊

Welcome, Ensign! Can't wait to read what you get up to around these parts!

Happy to have you here, and I can't wait to see what you get up to in our little corner of the internet! 😊

I can see none of you are smugglers; that's why it's so loud. - Eugene Ormandy

Fashionably late as I always am. Welcome back to the fleet. Hope to get the chance to sim with you in the future.

Glad to have you here, congratulations on graduating the Academy! Can't wait to see the fun adventures you get up to!

Another awesome piece in the saga. Super in love with how Justin captures lightning on the page with the confusion of the moment. 💙 (( Vedek Hamsan’s cottage, Dahkur Province, Bajor )) Dwich had never been more disengaged from evening services, and as he walked back to his cottage under the orange and purple evening sky, he’d never felt more disconnected from the Prophets. Preoccupied by the unexpected arrival of a woman from another time and place, Dwich sat at his desk and struggled to thumb through a selection of his favorite prophecies, hoping his attention would divinely be drawn to a passage that would help him make sense of it all. There was nothing. Dwich’s experience, and his growing problem, was completely outside the realm of what Bajoran religion could counsel. He turned the desk lamp off and sat back in his desk chair, the moonlight of Derna and Jeraddo casting a pale grey glow through the open window. With nothing more to say or do, just a deep feeling of unease that needed to be worked through with prayer and rest, Dwich unfastened the top of his robes and—— (( Sickbay, Deck 2, USS Resolution )) ——stood in the doorway of a completely unfamiliar place. Adea: ::muttering as he got up and left his office:: Will this never end? Dwich looked down at himself; his vestments were gone, replaced with a Starfleet uniform. A set of double doors started closing on him, and he stepped forward lithely to avoid them. He was in a medical facility of some kind, small but well appointed. The man who spoke first had distinctly dark eyes, a trademark of Betazoids, if Dwich remembered correctly, and he sprung into action to administer care to a seriously ill Bolian. Adea: I take it that you didn’t get on with our Q friend? Hamsan: I— ::beat:: I don’t know. Sirin: ::stares at Dwich:: I - um, not sure what happened. The voice from behind him was familiar. Dwich turned round to see the woman from his hallucination, standing before him in the flesh and real as could be. It was clear that the Betazoid and Dwich’s ghostly visitor knew each other, and they were all wearing the same uniform as he. He pinched his forehead in the space directly above his eyebrows, feeling suddenly twice as confused as he had been in the silence and security of his cottage. Nusin: No. Not this time. Let me go, Doctor. You and I both know you can’t save me. Dwich had no idea what had happened to the Bolian, but from the look of things, they weren’t going to last long. The cleric looked at the Vulcan, then the Betazoid, and recognized that everyone in the room needed pastoral care now. He took up position on the opposite side of the biobed from the doctor, and held the dying Bolian’s hand. Adea: But I can be there for you. Always. Hamsan: The Prophets teach us that all our times are in Their hands. ::beat:: Prophets, hear our prayer as you await the arrival of this one’s pagh. Comfort them and welcome them into the Celestial Temple, and to your everlasting care. Dwich squeezed the Bolian’s hand as one monitor after another sounded. In quick succession, they fell silent once again, and Dwich felt the hand he held go slack. There was little else to do but rest it back on the bed, and allow for a moment of respectful silence. The pastoral care of those who were present became his concern now, so Dwich crossed over to the Betazoid doctor and put an arm around his shoulder. Sirin: ::to Genkos:: Doctor, I think that CloQ gave us the answer when I first met him. As crazy as it sounds, we can stop this, but we have to stop trying to escape. Adea: response CloQ. The name was unfamiliar to Dwich. Sirin: He wants us to continue the experiment. I think that if we just stop trying, he will as well. Adea: response At that moment, two pairs of eyes fell on Dwich. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that, given he wore their uniform and had said very little, they probably mistook him for… The pieces began falling into place. The Vulcan woman who appeared on Bajor did in fact know him. He was her ja’ital, and she was his tem’en, but in another life. A life he didn’t remember. Hamsan: I’m afraid I don’t know who either of you is. Do I ::looks at his uniform:: belong here? Adea / Sirin: response (( OOC: Glossary ja'ital = my light (used for a beloved person) tem'en = bright one (used for a beloved person) )) Tag / TBC PNPC Vedek Hamsan Dwich Vedek, Kaiett Monastery Dakhur Province, Bajor simmed by Lieutenant Yogan Yalu Helm Officer USS Resolution NCC-78145 Justin D238804DS0