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Lt. Mirra Ezo - Successful Diplomatic negotiations

Sal Taybrim

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((Cabin #12 - Raskor I - Evening of Kinney's Resignation))

::It had been one hell of a...Day? Week? Month? She was losing count. After the painfully awkward encounter with Tyler, Mirra's hasty patch job and near sprint of a retreat had been less than ideal. But, once in the Raskor Embassy Medbay, she had plenty to keep her distracted. Ishani had thankfully regained her sight, as expected, and the majority of those who had been in direct path of the flash bomb or phaser fire had been cleared. Dr. Phrik had yet to regain consciousness, and Mirra was lingering to keep an eye on him. 

While she waited, the news came from Sal, now aboard the Columbia, that with Ambassador Nicholotti's oO As in...Captain Nicholotti? I can't believe it...Oo, witness, Allen Kinney had resigned his commission, effective immediately. It was over. They finally had a win. And it only cost a near assassination. She had no clue the fate of the Angosian Augment, nor did she truly care. As long as it meant she was in the hands of those who knew how to deal with her, and far away from windows, and Mirra.
With the hours ticking on, Dr. Phrik regained consciousness. But the vision in his left eye hadn't returned yet. Along with the resident physician, she had ordered a variety of tests. His vitals were steady...but she herself, wasn't. She was exhausted. Weary down to the marrow of her bones. Despite all her protests, she actually began to wobble a bit on her feet and was promptly kicked out of Medbay. Someone had come with a key and a map for her to find her way to the circle of cabins surrounding the Executive Beach house Commodore Kinney had installed several years ago. She shambled her way towards a small, beautiful cabin near the left corner of the outcropping. Raskor I was beautiful. The cabin was whimsically decorated in swirls of light blues and greens, matching the clear sky and gorgeous shore line. She assumed. She was far too tired to appreciate it. She stumbled over the threshold, stripping the ruined dress whites as she went, before collapsing on the over-sized bed at the end of the hallway. Before she passed out, she giggled to herself wondering just when exactly the other eight or so people who would make use of the excessive amount of pillows would show, but ended up crafting a rudimentary pillow cave around herself instead.::
((((Brief Timeskip - A few Hours later))))
::Mirra had woken with a start, she was deeply disoriented. Had she fallen asleep in a vat of marshmallow..? Oh, that was the pillows. Sitting up, she looked around at the darkend room. She had been so tired, she must have slept through to the next evening. No, it was just before dawn. What had woken her? She couldn't remember if she had been dreaming, but after attempting to reconstruct the pillow cave, it had clearly lost it's magic. Crawling out, she stumbled into the attached bathroom and caught her reflection in the mirror. It stopped her cold. Her neck was a patchwork of blueish purple from the healing bruises, the bags under here eyes nearly matched the shade. Taking the regenerative bandage off her wrist, the deep bruising extended from her hand to halfway up her forearm. Apparently she had swung harder than she thought. A smirk ghosted the corner of her mouth. oO I punched Allen Kinney. Hard. Oo Glancing back up at her reflection, she gave a satisfied little head nod. 
Much to her absolute delight, the cabin was equipped with a real, water shower. She had cranked the heat, and stayed in to the point where the complexion of her skin nearly matched the vibrant red of her hair. Finding a large, fluffy robe, Mirra had wondered out to the semi enclosed porch directly through a set of French doors off the bedroom. She settled into a large, almost complicated looking deck chair that had been fashioned to look as if it was made of driftwood and an overly large leaf. It enveloped her like a warm, comfortable cocoon. She was certain whatever the fabric of this chair was, it had to be bewitched. She had never been this comfortable in her life. She was going to stay here, in this chair, until she withered away. She sat, eyes transfixed on the ocean before her, with the twinkling stars above. She had transcended sleep altogether, and transitioned into some sort of dormant state. Completely oblivious to the passage of time, the fading of the stars and the first soft rays of the sun. There she sat, her hair long since dried by the soft, salty sea breeze. Unfazed by the morning opening up around her. She had become one with that deck chair. That was...until she heard footsteps approaching. Lethargically, she moved her head towards the new arrival.::
Ezo: ::tiredly:: Is someone dying or bleeding...?

Tatash: Not yet, but the booze has just been opened so it's just a matter of time.

::Slowly, she turned her head back towards the sea.::
Ezo: Oh thank the Gods. I was worried it would require my moving. ::barely gesturing:: This chair and I have come to an understanding. We're one and the same, this chair and I.
Tatash: But I made breakfast. ::he nudged his snout towards the dining area::
::She let out a very disgruntled sound::
Ezo: ::slightly whimpering:: But...the chair, it's accepted me as one of it's own. If I leave now, that's...hours of diplomatic negotiations, wasted. It'll never trust me again. Can you live with that knowledge...?
Tatash: Then I officially declare war on the Republic of Chair. Get up and come and have some bacon.
Ezo: ::crestfallen:: Well...does it require pants...? ::looking pathetic:: I've become one with the bathrobe too...
Tatash: Theo will shade you for eons if you mope about in a robe all day.
::Mirra let out a lamented wail. With exaggerated struggle, she finally freed herself from the confines of her throne of comfort. Her eyes narrowed into near slits::
Ezo: Stay here, and make amends with my chair while I change...



Lieutenant Mirra Ezo, MD
Chief Medical Officer 
Starbase 118 Ops
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