gorkon Lieutenant JG Vorin - A Treasured Repository

[Alieth]

I LOVE the fine level of emotion plus excelent worldbuilding in this sim. Awesome one from Jo!

 

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((Museum, Iyiria, Deluvia IV))

 

Set beneath the undulating waves of a Deluvia up above, the entire city was born from pursuing science and art. Mosaic lined the city streets, a holdover of the Selkie homeworld of Pacifica and the capital city of hi'Leyi'a, twirling in time with the delights only Deluvia offered, displaying the battle between the elements of the climates warring on both sides of the tropical and the arctic. 

 

Rarely was Vorin awestruck by the sheer magnificence of a place, however, the capital city of Iyiria enraptured his Vulcan heart. 

 

The ShiKahrian philosopher Salln once noted it was inevitable a culture would transform when the arts and science became secondary to the needs of the military, shifting the focus of the creative to the narrow. Despite their enslavement by the Orions, the Selkie had no military to speak of, therefore developed their own unique style, able to indulge in their passions of horticulture, marine aquaculture, science, engineering, and the health of their people and the Federation. 

 

Vorin clasped his hands in the small of his back as he walked through the grand gallery, in as much of a funk as he could be. Leaving behind the revelry of the night before, having assimilated significantly less alcohol than his fellow revellers, a walk amongst the museum seemed the perfect escape for the man with much weighed down on his mind. Applying logic to a situation born from a love of his t'hy'la seemed to leave him cold and empty, with much meditation required to return to the fundamental principles of cthia. 

 

Fortunately, he had not yet resorted to Shal'tiar, though the notion seemed quite amusing.

 

The halo of holographic sound surrounded his head, emitting the spoken word to his ears. A voice fluently Selkie yet universally translated in the Vulcan dialects. Descriptions and explanations of the exhibit he stood in front of, statues nearby when he turned toward them, and the magnificence of the vaulted ceiling made from a type of limestone, carved out to create a cathedral of light and shimmering colour, carpeted by the sand from the seabed. 

 

The speaker had introduced themself as Aoides, master of the legends, and curator of the museum. They explained, in serene and soothing tones, how the religions of the Selkie had long since fallen into mythology, with few if any practising sects remaining throughout the disconnected worlds once the species had left Pacifica. This had the effect of distancing the state from religion, of erecting a soft barrier where the governments decided with logic rather than a belief in the writing of one deity or another. Vorin appreciated this immensely, showing his approval with a mild raise of an eyebrow as he continued his walk. 

 

He paused beside a statue of a shockingly beautiful Selkie male, pellucid skin as though they carved the effigy from ice, rippling dark golden hair shimmering from the crown of his head down his spine, embedded eyes the colour of glistening amber. 

 

Aoides: =/\= Here we find Scotu, the God of Crossroads. However, as with all things, he is also our patron of chaos, politics, and feasts, traditionally worshipped by warriors and those about to embark on long journeys. Ancient oral lore speaks of a ritual greeting his followers would use to distinguish themselves when travelling, hoping to receive generous hospitality in return. =/\=

 

The statue was shorter than Vorin expected, the carve of muscles visible along bared arms, a light armour of pearl and green adorning his upper body, and the tunics of traditional Selkie dress worn beneath. As Vorin gazed up at the statue, he could almost feel as though it smiled back at him, with the guise of a smirk lifting one corner of translucent marbleised lips. 

 

Aoides: =/\= You can find shrines and altars dedicated to him beside bridges, with offerings one might associate with the trappings of travel, such as a silver cethipa coin to ensure safe passage. Many myths involve his friendship with Araera, the Goddess of Tricksters, and the two creating havoc for the traveller who does not respect the passage. =/\=

 

At the foot of the statue, examples of the cethipa lay scattered over Scotu’s translucent shimmering webbed feet, as though an elderly Selkie had kept the coins for such a time and dispersed them to ensure their safe passage on an enduring voyage across the stars. It was more likely, however, that they were not real currency from the ages and times long gone. Vorin, not one to believe in superstitions, as logic prevailed, still bowed his head a little, almost imperceptibly, to ensure the Gorkon continued finding a good fortune among the stars. 

 

Leaving Scotu and his charming amber eyes behind, Vorin and his halo of sound turned toward the centre of the limestone cathedral to see the fierce and brave Trill security officer he had descended beneath the waves with. Her dark curled hair brought to mind one of the many statues surrounding them inside the gallery. Undoubtedly as fearless as any of them, with boundless courage he had seen on the SS Vikartindur. 

 

For once, the Vulcan was glad of the company, and although they had parted ways upon entering — to listen to the stories recited by the Aoides, and seek what interested them — he was interested in her impressions. 

 

Vorin: How are you enjoying the explorations of the mythical and cultured, Ensign?

 

Eden: Response

 

Vorin: There is much here I would expect of a culture derived from the sea and associated with extensive voyages. ::His dark eyes flit around for a moment, the various other statues all symbolic of another elemental wonder.:: More so when you discover their oral histories extend further back than their written records. Relying on generations to continue the retelling seems… illogical. 

 

Eden: Response

 

As Aoides spoke once again into his pointed ear, Vorin paused the hologram and the projected halo of light swimming around his head vanished back into the breastpin attached to the navy Pel-el styled sleeveless shirt. Once again, his hands clasped in the small of his back as he turned to the side, inviting Maia to walk with him at a slower pace through the museum as they conversed. 

 

Vorin: A previous host of the Eden symbiont was a historian, was he not? I enquired, following our venture onto the Vikartindur. I expected to find a battle-worn warrior of the Trill hiding among your incarnations. 

 

Eden: Response

 

 

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Lieutenant JG Vorin

Biologist

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0