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A dress working overtime

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@Josh Herrick with a delightful and thoughtful entrance of a NPC



(( Shuttle Bay Control, Deck 8, USS Octavia E Butler, in orbit around Cheyd'lang ))

It had been years since Donda had been outside the mines, and now she was in space aboard the Starfleet vessel Octavia something. She hadn’t met anyone from Starfleet, but her parents had. No longer around, a result of being the last generation afflicted with the Quickening, some Starfleet doctor had helped engineer the cure.

A blessing and a curse. She would be able to live her natural life span, at the expense of not having any memory of her parents — having died shortly after her birth. Now, she’d been saved by Starfleet a second time; sparing her longevity from being used to further the King’s Path’s goals.

She looked around at the chaos, so many former slaves – an equal amount of Cheydalanga and foreign species. She was the only Teplan that she knew of, having been one of the unfortunate scouts to have entered the system after the government restarted its broader space exploration program. The King’s Path stripped the vessel of all its parts and sent her to the mines for her curiosity.

She looked down at her arms, her hands looked as if they belonged to someone twice her age — overused and arthritic. Her arms were scarred from mining equipment malfunction. She’d assumed she’d die down there, but now she had options.

She wondered what her next step might be, returning to her home planet where she had no cash or become a vagrant among the stars. Neither of which was desirable. As she weighed the pros and cons, a fight broke out in front of her.

Unknown Man: This is my space… my stuff.

Unknown Woman: This is all our space… and I don’t want your stuff.

Unknown Man: You better step back or…

Unknown Woman: Or what… you’ll just be like the slavers?

An unintended sign passed Donda’s lips. Was one day of peace too much to ask?

Unknown Man: Or, this! ::shoving the woman::

Down in the mines, most people kept to themselves as talking too much usually ended up being ‘corrected’ by the guards. She knew nothing about anyone but recognized many faces. But, being free meant she was no longer restrained.

Donda: (hoarsely and in a whisper) Stop it.

She hadn’t used her voice in over a year; it wasn’t needed. Mine, eat, sleep, repeat. When she heard the sound of her voice it surprised her, and the weakness didn’t make it carry much weight.

Unknown Woman: You’re just like them… shame these people seem to let anyone onboard. ::shoving back::.

If they weren’t too careful, the officers might think the refugees were more trouble than they’re worth. Donda had no desire to be sent back down to Cheyd'lang. She stepped forward and inserted herself into the small gap between the pair and held her hand out.

She spoke again, her voice still quite rough but louder.

Donda: You two will stop it! She ::nodding to the woman:: doesn’t want what little you brought up. It’s all crowded here; we’re bound to get up in each other’s personal space. And, unless you’re a telepath ::glaring at the man:: you don’t know what her intentions are. How about we stay clear unless you want a one-way ticket back down.

That shut them up, but as she glanced between them, it was clear that tensions were running high. She waited a few more moments and then they walked away in separate directions.

Donda: oO Those conflict resolution courses paid off… Oo

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the many vessels that had also been docked inside the shuttle bay. When the Starfleet officer that rescued her saw that her clothing was barely holding together at the threads, she replicated a beautiful red dress; simple, but elegant. She had donned it immediately but hadn’t seen herself in a mirror.

She felt tears welling in her eyes. oO Free. Oo

As she continued to stare at herself, her gaze was broken by three officers stepping in front of her.

Stendhal: Honored Madam, your leadership in calming the recent unrest has not gone unnoticed. I am Counselor Karen Stendhal of the USS Octavia E Butler, and on behalf of our crew, I extend our sincerest commendations. May we engage in dialogue to better understand your needs and those of your people?

Donda: oO This dress is working overtime. Honored Madam? She’d only been called a slave yesterday. Oo

The officer in blue stepped forward; almost like a silent follow-up.

Donda: Considering we have you to thank for all this, yes.

Promontory/Herrick: Response

Donda: Well ::looking to the corner of the room:: We have plenty of toilets, but I think we would do well with extra showers. I can appreciate that we’re a huge mass of people, but it would be good to get the dirt and stink off and feel like our former selves.

Stendhal/Promontory/Herrick: Response

Donda: I think that the unknown of what’s next is what’s starting to stress people out, me included. The sense of freedom is euphoric, but it wears off and with all of us, we’re always looking out for danger around the next corner, a lesson from the mines.

Stendhal/Promontory/Herrick: Response



Liberated Teplan


(character: she/her/hers / player: he/him/his)


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Damnit you beat me to it. I was going to post this too.

Honestly this is what makes @Josh Herrick one of the best people in the fleet to sim with. Every single one of his characters is unique, diverse and beautifully written. You really feel like each character has a history, their own wants and desires and feel like real people. What takes me a hundred sims to develop takes Josh meer seconds. 

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