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Lieutenant(jg) Regan Wilde - Adagio For Springs


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For all our advancements in technology and medicine, the loss of a friend is still keenly felt by all that knew and served with them.  Here, Lt. Jg. Wilde beautifully commemorates the rich service of one such comfy colleague, speeding it upon it's way to Valhalla's basement rec-room.  

 

Great job, @Regan Wilde!  Funny and touching in equal measure.  

 

============================

 

((OOC : You wanted a sofa funeral, you've got a sofa funeral...))

 

((USS Arrow - Deck 3; Main Engineering))

{{One Week into Shore Leave}}

 

It was a truly sombre affair. A lot of the battle-damaged consoles hadn’t been fully repaired yet so the whole engineering section had been decorated with black drapes, and the central area held an old fashioned easel which held a large and audacious painting of the Engineering Sofa. The painter, who wished to remain anonymous, obviously had trained in the Romantic school of impressionism, because the painting looked far better than the actual sofa ever did. 

 

The sofa had been a devastating casualty in what most of the crew were calling - rather too excitedly - the ‘Battle for Main Engineering’ in the midst of the pirate boarding. The sofa had been used as a makeshift barricade, hidden behind as a shield, hit with many disruptor bolts, been split in two by an exploding duranium engineering door, flattened by the aforementioned door, caught fire from the molten metal on the aforementioned door, and phasered into oblivion.

 

In the centre of the room was a sleek cherry wood podium which on top housed a small, silver urn. The remains of the sofa; well, what was left of the remains, had been ceremonially cremated (if you could actually cremate anything which was already 70% ash and the rest a gloopy mess of fire extinguisher foam and springs), and placed in the urn. 

 

Regan stood in front of the warp core, his finest dress uniform complete with black armband cascading the brilliant lights of the warp core against him. He wore a large black pair of dark sunglasses, his hair coiffed expertly. His new synthetic now in place and working, Regan was now back at his best. 

 

Beside him Chief Thaon Brom wore a traditional Scottish kilt, complete with sporran, socks, hat, the works. Odd, considering he was a Tellarite and not remotely Scottish in the slightest. Brom solemnly played the bagpipes as the rest of the guests milled into engineering. Regan was going to ask where he got the bagpipes from but was, quite truthfully, scared of the answer.

 

As the guests entered they shook hands with, or kissed the cheek of Lieutenant Keneth Nakada, who had taken to his role as the grieving widower with aplomb. The sofa had been one of his work colleagues, and in the latter days, closest confidants and companions. 

 

Wilde: Dearest crew of the Federation starship Arrow, thank you for coming. My name is Lieutenant Regan Wilde and I’ll be your Master of Ceremonies for today's event. I’d like to start today's proceedings by saying how sorry I am for engineering’s loss of a fine and dedicated piece of furniture. Particularly to Lieutenant Keneth Nakada whom I believe spent more time sleeping on it than he did in his own bed. We mourn and cherish the service the sofa provided to everyone on board. For she was not just a piece of furniture to some. To me she was an eyesore, but I digress. To engineering she was a comrade, not a tool. She offered comfort, protection and relaxation. She even had a little drinks holder in the armrests. The left hand seat reclined out with a footrest, and was covered expertly in fine corinthian leather. Scholars say that in her day she retailed at the princely sum of $699.99, which I’m led to believe was and I quote ::Consulting his PADD.:: ‘Top quality at a bargain price’. ::Beat:: Such a loss.

 

We enter the service of Starfleet in order to better ourselves, to improve humanity's understanding of the universe; and in working with, living with, and indeed loving other species we forge a better, peaceful universe in which we live. Starfleet doesn’t, however, teach you how to live without superior upholstered furniture in your life in circumstances such as these. This sofa seems irreplaceable to the needs of the crew. Indeed, that particular brand of sofa hasn’t been manufactured in this quadrant for at least three hundred and fifty years and I beg Keneth never reveals to me from which space dump he stole it from. Some things must forever remain a mystery.

 

We gather today to pay our respects, to mourn, to comfort each other the only way we can, and to begin a healing process. In my writing of this eulogy I searched through many counselling texts, none of which had any significant information whatsoever to prepare me for the insanity and downright ridiculousness of today. However, I’m grateful that Counselor R’Ariel is around, should anyone need any further assistance.

 

Ladies, gentlemen, honoured androgynous and non-gendered species, I ask you to raise your glasses to ::Checks his PADD, then snickers a little.:: Really? ::Regaining composure:: To Sofia Davenport, the engineering sofa. Who bravely and valiantly gave her springs, so that the ship can live on.

 

Anyone: Responses

 

Wilde: I believe Sofia is survived by a number of scatter cushions, and a manky old throw which was so old and threadbare we cremated that too. We hereby commit Sofia’s remains to the galaxy. Ashes to ashes, stuffing to stuffing. Fly high amongst the stars, Sofia. See you… somewhere out there.

 

Anyone: Responses

 

Wilde: Would anyone like to say a few words before we beam the urn into space? 

 

Anyone: Responses

 

 

TAG!

 

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Lieutenant(jg) Regan Wilde
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USS Arrow
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