LCDR Talia Ohnari LCDR Nolen Hobart — The Dream

[Richard Matthews]

This sim from @Nolen Hobart that also included @Talia Ohnari had the perfect blend of fun times and drama. I was lulled into a false sense of security with the funny banter, and then Hobart gut punched me. I love seeing all the different characters bouncing off each other, and just how some characters pair off as friends or something more. And gosh dang it, but I'm invested in the crazy doctor and the first officer. So I'll keep coming back for more, even if I might end up crying after a read.

Couldn't just quote a few lines from this sim. So everyone gets all of it! Come appreciate these writers' work. 

Warning, the back half of this sim makes reference to violence against children.

Quote

((Sickbay, Deck 6, USS Khitomer, Earth Orbit))

Hobart: I haven't had any alcohol for… three months, maybe.

Ohnari: I...hadn't realized that. Although, I don't think that is the cause. 

He regretted bringing it up instantly. He didn't want to change his lifestyle! He didn't want a healthy relationship with his brain. He liked being able to turn it off with a chemical lightswitch. He liked it almost as much as he liked spending time with Talia. At that thought, the little accountant in the back of his brain cleared his throat, as if to punctuate an implied lecture about leverage.

Hobart: Alright, so… any theories?

Ohnari: Well? Given the events of the Sencha wave, and the...unique aspects of your last off ship outing, your senses may be maxed. That, or something else I am not finding is causing this. So, I am going to have you wear a monitor. ::smirking:: Don't worry, it's not invasive, and once I have more data, I could narrow down my diagnostics.

As he lay there, Nolen made a brassy sound through his sinuses, full of doubt and discomfort. It wasn't a sense of vanity, he just didn't want people to ask him about it. Or question his fitness. Or think it made him look silly. Okay, so maybe a little vanity.

Dr. Ohnari then produced the referenced monitor and Hobart got intrigued. It was tiny, no bigger than his thumbnail. Silver and with a couple of tiny lights blinking softly, it wasn't necessarily obtrusive. Unless it went right in the middle of his forehead. He made the brassy sound again, though with noticeably less volume.

He stared into her face as she neared and reached around his head to plant the monitor, her fingers brushing against his ear before she swept aside some hair to clear an appropriate site. With her eyes fixed on her work on the side of his head, his glanced down to her glistening lips, and his mind began to similarly wander.

The sharp, but fleeting, pinch of the tool affixing the device to his skin brought him back.

Ohnari: ::smirking saucily:: And now your mind is mine Hobart. ::blinking innocently, reviewing her tricoder:: My what indecent thoughts you have…

What? Really? He wasn't sure about this anymore. Wait, no, play it cool.

Hobart: You ain't seen nothin’ yet.

She laughed and flipped her tricorder over to show none of the lurid images he'd begun to conjure for her benefit.

Ohnari: Gotcha. ::grinning:: The look on your face.... ::glancing around, confirming they were alone, she helped him sit up and then wrapped herself in his arms:: Although… given your reaction… I have a feeling tonight's gonna be awesome.

Sitting on the edge of the biobed, his arms around her, a wicked smile clawed into his cheeks. Just for fun, he had decided to continue conjuring lurid images for his own benefit.

Hobart: ::seductively:: Big plans.

She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, which pushed back intensely. For a moment the heightened emotional connection, searing through skin-to-skin contact, made him yearn ever so slightly for the curse of telepathy, so that they might read from precisely the same page, instead of merely the same chapter. Without it, those big plans would have to wait.

((Timeskip, Late Evening, Ohnari Quarters, Deck 13))

The big plans waited still.

When Nolen had finished his duties (official and unofficial) he had realized there were yet more tasks to complete for his friend. Top on the list? Groomsmen attire, specifically ties and pocket squares. And in fulfilling this part of his promise to Connor, Nolen was a little bit selfish. He was going to make sure the color looked good.on him, even if the final choice was ostensibly the groom’s. To that end, he'd decided to present the man with three options: one excellent, and two that were pretty bad.

But the effort was draining, on top of everything they'd been through, and Talia had been so focused on her tailoring efforts that they'd barely spoken to each other after dinner. He was determined to make at his three selections before he could no longer keep his eyes open, an effort made all the more difficult by the rogue Haliian sprawled across his chest, and the fruit bat curled up atop her.

Ohnari: This is exhausting. And I replace limbs for a living!! ::yawning widely:: Do you think Connor and Ayemet are this tired?

The question was a good one, and it wrenched this thoughts away from the task at hand. He slipped one hand’s fingers through her hair. Hobart was sure the spouses-to-be were well-rested—that was the point of taking on so much work on their behalf. But “well-rested” and “tired” were different things and Nolen would be damned if Connor didn't get sufficient… “exercise” in exchange for all his hard work. 

Hobart: ::sleepily:: If that man is able to walk unassisted tomorrow morning I'm gonna break his legs for wasting the opportunity. ::frustrated sigh:: Why are there so many different shades of green?

Ohnari: All the alterations are finished, even if the best man was a little handsy during that last fitting, ::she flicked his shoulder playfully, with the strength of an exhausted fruit fly:: Plans for the bachelorette party are… mostly finalized. Connor's being weird about goats and I need goat milk. ::wincing:: Don't ask. Bajorans can be weird about their purification rituals…

He smiled, and forced himself to choose three colors, two of which would be immediately ruled out by any rational decisionmaker. Tossing the PADD in the general direction of the couch. He liked Ohnari's quarters for a list of reasons. First, she was there. Second, he knew where everything else was, too. He'd spent more time in her assigned quarters than he had in his own, despite the fact that his were markedly better-equipped.

Nolen closed his eyes and sighed, enjoying the weight of her as his lungs emptied their air in favor of her presence. He'd finally gotten Connor's party sorted, albeit without any of the Captain's Andorian bikini girls—he was still unsure of whether the man was serious, which, come to think of it, was odd. He should have been able to tell. Maybe it was the telepacancer.

Hobart: ::distantly, through a yawn:: I trust you'll warn me if Haliians have any weird dairy-related wedding practices before—

His eyes shot open, his mind catching up with his mouth, and realizing the implications of the sentence he was about to finish.

Ohnari: Response

Hobart: ::eyes closing again:: Yeah, let's rewind about ten seconds.

He inhaled deeply, his thoughts getting tangled in the scent of her hair. Through the last ounce of effort he had left from the day, he shifted himyself under her so that they were more or less aligned, in body and mind, before taking the plunge into sleep.

Ohnari: Response

Talia, it seemed, saved her ounce of effort for a different purpose.

Hobart: ::eyes bolted open:: …we’re gonna what?

No answer came. She was asleep, and, eventually, he would be too.

((In the Dark))

The Dream, specifically this one, didn't always start the same way. But Nolen always knew when he was in it, anyway. He'd just been with Talia, on the back seat of a bus, exhilaration melting into realization, bound up with determination. They'd been there, together, in a fragment of a memory that hadn't yet been, and might never become.

And then they weren't together any longer. Or maybe they were, it was hard to tell. She might have been in the crowd, in that cold, wet room, full of concrete and dust. Twenty or so souls, all fearing, conspiring, and running in a metaphorical sense. She might not have been there, but in that crowd he wasn't alone. The Boy was there, too.

Nolen didn't want to look at the Boy. He knew his face, every curl of his brown hair, once in luscious locks and now matted down by rain and dirt. But his eyes, perfect black Betazoid irises set in a defiantly optimistic face. Always happy, never knowing what was about to happen to him. What always happened. Those sharp cheekbones, that chin. It was almost like looking into a mirror, thirteen years ago or thereabouts.

The Boy sat near the Wall, away from the Stairs. The Stairs were where danger would come from. Footsteps above, heavy, armored, and bearing arms laden with weapons, thumped down above their heads. All was silent, but for the footsteps. Fear filled the room, mingled and shared, but the Boy was confident, optimistic still. He believed nothing would happen because he'd been told as much. Everyone watched the stairs, but Nolen watched the Boy.

The blast came, not from the Stairs, but from the Wall, and the Boy lay stricken among shards of brick and mortar. His legs were bent the wrong way, and his eyes seemed glassy, now. The crowd was rushing, crushing, towards the Stairs. Nolen tried to push against them, because he had to. He didn't want to, but he was obliged. The Boy’s face turned, and his arm reached. Nolen reached back, but arms gripped him. Impossibly strong arms. Strong minds that said he must be left.

Horrible monsters poured into the hole where the Wall was, like a sea of hate sinking a punctured ship. Their faces were gray, and they had snarp, hideous teeth in their mouths, their chins, their necks, and their scalp. The Worst of Them stood over the Boy, as Nolen struggled not to go up the stairs, towards danger, and away from worse. The Worst of Them raised his rifle at the Boy, then looked to Nolen. Black pits where eyes should have been stared emotionlessly at him and the Worst of Them lowered the rifle, before raising its butt.

Nolen hated this part most of all.

((Ohnari’s Quarters, Some Ungodly Hour))

Hobart’s eyes flashed open, to find Ohnari above him, straddling his waist. Her cheeks looked wet, as if she'd been crying, and her chest heaved, as if she'd been panicked. His hand burned, as if he'd been pinched. He went to lift it, but she held it tight.

Hobart: I'm awake! I'm awake! What's wrong?!

Ohnari: Response

Tags/TBC

———

Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart

Executive Officer

USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)

A240001NH3