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Sern of Vulcan - The Phantom of the Teller

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@Alieth has introduced this lovely character arc involving her deceased lover (don't even try to deny it, Alieth) who was killed and his katra placed in @Geoffrey Teller in order to preserve it.  Here, we see that Vulcans are not devoid of emotion, and though the display isn't as overt as perhaps one might see in a human, I can't help but connect emotionally to Sern and Alieth.


((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Veritas))


Sern: I do not choose the places. They never last long. Days - sometimes hours. It was fortunate I came across this one. 

The bridge jolted around them. On the screen, the nose of the Veritas pitched towards the planet, its rings and moons taking up more and more of the screen.

Alieth: Then choose a location, hold on to it. This bouncing from one memory to another is putting Geoff in danger.

Her voice came softly, stating the glaringly obvious. He’d figured that out weeks ago - back on the holodeck. When he first began to withdraw. His reply was quick and curt.

Sern: I am aware that Geoffrey John is in danger, and I am telling you that my actions are not the cause.

She straightened up and blinked several times.There was another long pause, as he considered putting his hypothesis forward.

Sern: I … I believe it may be my presence.

It made sense. Carrying the katra of another, the essence and full memories of another Vulcan required a toll. A Vulcan could adapt - given enough time and mental discipline.

A Human could not. The Human brain was simply not constructed to bear the weight of the katra.

And they both knew it.

She held out her hand. A smile etched softly across her face. It was a gesture that comforted and alarmed him in equal measure.

Alieth: Then come back to me. Just as it used to be. You and me.

Sern looked from her hand to the surprisingly eager expression on her face and back again. Could it be done? Could he return? Such transfers had happened - but in a matter of days, not weeks. And certainly not months… The damage he was wreaking on his Human host was obvious, more than obvious. 

Was it the same for a Vulcan?

Were they just better at hiding it?

Yet, more importantly - what would be the consequences of returning now?

Sern: No. ::he paused, the word coming through a little too harshly:: I cannot - we cannot.

She took a step back.

The starship shook around them. Panels fell from the ceiling, a cascade of sparks burst from the viewscreen before a rift split it in half, extinguishing the view of space. With a pop and a flash, everything forward of the helm snapped out of existence, the blur closing in. A crack spread out between the two Vulcans, narrow, but tearing them apart.

Alieth: I do not understand. Why? Why not?

The rift deepened, spreading across the bridge to the point where the illusion ended, and curving around to split the ceiling above.

Sern: This place is unraveling - come with me! Jump!

She tried to reach for him, arms outstretched in front of her. The crevice broadened suddenly under her feet and she was forced to stop at the edge of the abyss, her goal forgotten in a vain attempt to keep her balance on the edge. He took a half-step closer, held back by a familiarity with the calamity the Edge could hold. 

At the other end lay another memory - some good, some bad. 

With an unraveling as violent as this: almost certainly bad.

Alieth: Sern!?!?!?!

His hand snapped out in one final effort to catch hers. 

Sern: He must be pulling you back - I shouldn’t - I knew this couldn’t last… JUMP!!

Despite his words, despite her efforts, she fell.

The blur around the edges deepened - the line between existence and darkness rapidly disintegrating until-



((The Brew Continuum, Deck 4, USS Veritas))

((Not Blowing Up))


The silence was deafening after the sound-and-fury departure of the last world.

Slowly, the space filled with a soft backdrop of white noise: the clatter of cups, the occasional hiss of steam from the equipment, the blended chatter of voices. No conversation could clearly be distinguished. After all, neither the Vulcan nor the Human knew what had been said. 

The room itself began to take shape - a close, tight arrangement of tables and beings. Some, Sern knew from his last trip here, belonged. Others, not so much.

Good. He’d stumbled onto a haven. 

Slowly, a table began to take shape in front of him. Sern found himself sitting before he could fully recall the place, a mug appearing in his hand.

From the depths of the vessel rose a distinct aroma, borne on the tendrils of steam that snaked their way up to his nostrils.

The Vulcan hated to admit it.

He was beginning to grow fond of that vile, brown liquid…


[End Scene?]


Sern of Vulcan


Reluctant Coffee Drinker




Edited by Alora DeVeau
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@Quen Deena has made such an AWESOME work developing Sern with just a super sketchy draft that she has just blown my mind and I'm super THANKFUL of having handed her this WORK.

100% a PERFECT display that why collaborative writing rocks and how hand key character of your character background/past to other writers it's not only a GOOD idea but a GREAT one

Thank you so much May!

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