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Personal Log, Stardate 41026.06

Posted on 17 Sep 2020 @ 12:19pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el

“Personal Log, Stardate.. Uhm.” T’Char leans over in her chair to get a better look at the timestamp on the desk console. She has to squint because the lights on the device are too intense to handle directly, despite being on the lowest setting. She thinks her double eyelid is somehow compromised.

“It is zero seven-hundred hours and twenty four minutes. Of today.”

The Vulcan leans back to put a hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose with a harsh grimace. The headache only gets worse.

“There is not much development in our situation with the Tathi Accord- we are to meet on one of their host species’ worlds, during our investigation of the stolen Starfleet vessel. Our current position is with the “Shield Fleet” making rounds throughout the star systems of the Accord.”

She inhales sharply and tightens the cloth belt around her robe, trying to force her body into a more awakened state with a measured breathing exercise. It doesn’t work.

“Though I fail to see the logic in a single fleet at one location as a means of protection, where the combined force spread over several light years in stationary positions would suffice, I am not a tactical officer. My take on the matter is neither desirable nor educated.”

The Vulcan shrugs lightly and folds one leg over the other. The mediocre yowl of a tired Sehlat causes her head to turn, and she spins her chair to face the bed. Little Cloud stretches her legs out and pushes the blanket halfway over the side, yawning. T’Char smirks very softly, and makes a clicking sound with her mouth to beckon to the animal.

Little Cloud merely sits up straight, lifting her chin in defiance while eyeing her mother with mild disdain.

“Ra du aitlun? Hm? Ra du aitlun pi' e'shua?”

T’Char lilts her words at the Sehlat, causing the animal to tilt her fuzzy ears back and forth. Little Cloud is unsure what to make of the noises she hears, but it’s comforting enough to answer her large, strange smelling, and un-furry guardian with another tiny howl. The Vulcan chuckles, and hisses through her teeth as something hammers on the inside of her skull, turning her chair back around to face the desk console.

“In.. other matters. There was a.. minor celebration last night in the common on deck ten. A gathering to revel in the success against the Galaxy. The humans called it a Pot-Luck. I am unsure why, there is no way to place a metaphysical ideology into a ceramic planting bowl. Nor was that concept discussed at any point-”

T’Char moans again as her forehead pulses angrily. It’s painful to keep her eyes open for too long, and she’s getting a bit nauseous.

“That is not why I bring it up. There was a.. misunderstanding?

The grimace from T’Char isn’t related to the hangover this time, and she can feel a second headache beginning to form before the first one is over.

“Kyr.. wanted to do something nice for me. Most non-Vulcans see the act of trading objects or consumable items as a form of affection. More potently so if said item is constructed independently. A practice which I… do understand. However-”

Little Cloud doesn’t like it when she’s not being paid attention to, so she howls again, loudly. It makes the Vulcan exhale forcefully as she hunches her shoulders, almost doubling over. She chooses to bite her tongue instead of justifying the action with a response.

“..However. Kyr decided to bake for me an item of cultural significance, without realizing the context for the dish. He… assumed that Tufeen Hushani was merely a regular dessert item, and was not aware that it is only consumed during weddings on Vulcan.”

She bites her lip, forcefully enough to open the small scab on her lower lip.

“Needless to say, when he revealed the cake in front of our colleagues after convincing me to attend because of a surprise waiting for me- I was. Shocked.”

Her eyes narrow slightly as her eyebrows furrow expressively.

“Perhaps more than simply shocked. I lost consciousness for several minutes due to a bout of hyperventilation and reduced blood flow to my extremities.”

The Vulcan attempts to stand up, slowly to let her already wobbling senses readjust in time with the rest of her body. The nausea doesn’t stay in the chair, unfortunately.

“I misconstrued the gesture as a… proposal. The emotional shock was intense to say the very least. I lost a great deal of control in a very short period of time.”

She glances out the window for a moment, sucking at the coppery taste on her lip.

“I suppose it was irresponsible to accentuate the loss of emotional suppression by utilizing sucrose intoxicants- but my logic in the moment was, admittedly rather flawed. Besides, my memory regarding the time after I returned from si-”

Her face suddenly pales as she catches a glimpse of a peculiar object on the floor next to her bed. It’s a statuette of a heavyset Andorian woman in a suggestive pose, with...accentuated features. It clearly belongs to Kyr, she’s seen it before in his room. A short recollection of her fractured memory seems to point to her taking the object from a table, in a fit of emotional imbalance. T’Char picks it up so Little Cloud can’t chew on it, but an impulsive thought tells her to use it as a fetch toy with her Sehlat.

“S-sickbay. To the, uhm. Party.” T’Char continues, still staring at the statuette in her hands as a green flush begins to fill her cheeks with color.

“After I lost consciousness, I mean.”

Fuck, she thinks. No word in Vulcan can adequately express the same level of emotion that this single phrase is capable of producing. It was easily her favorite Human word. Fuck, she thinks again.

She spins around quickly to put the figure on her desk, not a smart thing to do if you’re nauseous and hungover. T’Char has to lean on the edge of her chair in order to keep from falling over and vomiting. Little Cloud gets worried and jumps off the bed to rub against T’Char’s bare leg, chirping quietly to her mother for reassurance. It takes a minute, but the Vulcan manages to lean down to squish her Sehlat’s mane-fur, more for her own benefit than the cat’s. Leaning over also gives her an excellent opportunity to lay her back down on the floor, which she hopes will hasten the room to stop spinning.

“Computer... end log.”

She thinks it would be an efficient and logical decision to have a damage control team follow her around at all times.


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