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Personal Log, Stardate 41892.8

Posted on 24 Nov 2021 @ 5:54pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el

November 22, 2364, Time: 18:21:18
Stardate 41892.8

“Sochya, Skaren. Nam-tor Satesh.”

The Vulcan sits at her desk staring at the screen with a dim expression, uncertain how to respond. Her leg starts to bounce almost as quickly as her shoulders hunch in tension, conveying her status as distinctly uncomfortable.

“My name is T’Char. So it has been since the Kahs-wan.”

Satesh nods. His ears seem to mirror those of his daughter’s on the other side of the glass, round and pointed to the tip. Even his nose wrinkles the same fashion, baring their relation enough to be obvious. It might even be cute, were the situation not so tense.
“So you passed it. I am pleased. It is a rite of passage for all males who rea-”

“You are mistaken, again.” T’Char tightens her jaw nearly into a vise, grinding her teeth to force her tongue into submission. An outburst so quickly into this meeting would not, to use a terran expression, earn points in her favor.

“The Kahs-wan is for all who wish to prove themselves, not just men. And my identity is an aspect I bring with me, not a requirement for participation. Kahs-wan or not, I am T’Char.”

The grizzled Vulcan on her screen inhales and lifts an eyebrow, leaning back in whatever seat he has out of view. It makes T’Char cringe internally- were Satesh human, he might as well have made a displeased noise and frowned disapprovingly.

“Very well- T’Char?” Satesh’s pronunciation is clean, and perfect. His enunciation might as well be mockery, T’Char thinks, unconsciously allowing herself a scowl, before she hides it with a bite of her inner lip and a headshift.

At the lack of an immediate response, Satesh continues. “Regardless of your reasons, you earned the rite of passage, and deserve as much respect. I am pleased.”

Pleased, he says. Is this a joke? Does he approve or not? His tone is impossible to discern. T’Char briefly thinks she might be overthinking it- but if he was the type to bond Mother caution is certainly warranted. At least, that’s how T’Char decides to justify it for now.

Any further distraction is cut off by the movement of Satesh on her screen, when T’Char realizes it’s been half a second too long for the silence not to be awkward.

“I..uhm.” T’Char straightens in her seat, in an attempt to be more imposing. “Your expression of approval is unnecessary. And... strikes me as illogical.”

Satesh doesn’t even bother to lift an eyebrow, remaining stonefaced compared to the constant fidgets of T’Char. “Your logic escapes me.”

“A prerequisite for having an emotional response to a family member completing a rite of passage, is that you have an emotional basis from which to form the response. As you clearly do not experience emotional attachment to me, your pleasure at my success is merely a statement of formality and not of truth. Therefore it is illogical.”

T’Char tightens her jaw and inhales, confident in her analysis. Satesh remains neutral, however. He takes a reasonable moment of pause to fold his arms, and brings a hand to his chin, rubbing it gently with a finger.

“H’esti did provide warning, though I considered it an exaggeration until now. You are very much alike your mother, as I remember her.”

Taken slightly aback, T’Char is unable to reply. She expected a fight, not.. whatever this is.

“I.. resent that implication.” She furrows her brow and wrinkles her nose in disgust, without meaning to provide expression. Her attention is shifted towards strategy now that her plan of conversation requires reform, and her ability to suppress emotives falls to the wayside as a consequence.

“I might say I resent the assumption of not having an emotional attachment to you, as my offspring, but truly I meant you no offense in the comparison.” Satesh picks up quickly, hoping to continue.
“Rather, I find it reassuring that some of her lives within you, in your mannerisms, your speech. In contrary to your assumptions, I have given you evidence of the emotions you claim I do not have, by allowing myself to reminisce on how alike my daughter is to her mother. Both of whom I love.”

T’Char furrows her brow in confusion, feeling a warmth on her cheek that seemed to spring from nowhere. She moves her sleeve up to dab at the presence and it comes away wet, smelling slightly of salt. The Vulcan woman decides to aggressively ignore it for now, quickly wiping at both eyes with her other sleeve before speaking again.

“I.. am uncertain how to respond.” T’Char croaks, hoarsely.

“I do not expect anything, T’Char. My only wish was to see you once more and reestablish a relationship lost due to my faults.”

“A’ulu never called me her daughter. Not even once.”

Satesh betrays a look of sympathy over the viewscreen, nodding slightly. There’s a short pause before he speaks again, choosing his words carefully.
“Her logic was flawed. There is no denying that you are my daughter. And I am.. sorry, for leaving you and H’esti when I did. It was an error in judgement.”

T’Char sniffs and tightens her jaw, shaking her head. “Kaiidth. You are making an attempt now, I recognize that. Your apology is.. accepted, but I need- time to think on what. That means.”

Satesh nods, exhaling through his nose audibly. “That is logical, and agreeable. May I-”
The older Vulcan pauses, hesitating halfway through a thought process. T’Char looks up more directly at her screen, still green-faced but less emotionally compromised.

“May you-?”

“I wish to ask you about your name.” Satesh finalizes, giving T’Char the patented eyebrow. “Not in judgement, but curiosity. You have a rare title, to which I am unfamiliar.”

t’maat Ch’kariya t’sai, vi-T’Char.” T’Char holds her head up high, proud of her title and intent on showing it. Satesh is visually unimpressed, but his eyebrow recedes to the normal position.

“I see. You are the matriarch of a clan of one, the Clan of the Ch’kariya. Wuh Char maat?

Ha, yeht.” T’Char furrows her brow again, expecting some further judgement on instinct but it never arrives. Satesh nods on her screen, closing his eyes a moment.

“It is a title reminiscent of ancient nobility, in some ways. The Ch’kariya is a hardy animal, who is capable of great feats of resilience and survival. I suspect that it was not chosen lightly.” Satesh opens his eyes to look his daughter more clearly in the face, a small hint of a smile ghosting his lips.

T’Char turns slightly to look out the viewport across from her desk, as her voice reduces in volume. “No. It was not.”


“Personal log, stardate 41893.2. I have just completed a conversation with my father.”

T’Char finally stands from her desk towards the replicator, Little Cloud nearly nipping at her heels all the way there as she dictates her log. The Vulcan has to flick her foot to dislodge the baby Sehlat, who offers a yowl in impatient complaint.

“Peace animal! You will not starve! Computer, custom supplement 14-” She waits at the replicator before the two plates finish fizzling into existence: One large bowl with hard pellets of kibble intermixed with bits of processed meats, and another tiny dish with pureed fish. Little Cloud bounds for joy at the smells, and nearly falls over in the process.

“Sit! Hayal-tor!” T’Char commands the sehlat, who reluctantly complies, before placing the large bowl at her feet. Little Cloud wastes no time at all before springing herself facefirst into the meal, enthralled. T’Char moves to put the other dish on a small shelf she retrofitted as a cat platform, knowing it’s where Mr. Soup prefers to spend most of his time.
On cue, the regular earth cat trots himself around the corner and takes a zigzag route up the desk, over a series of shelves, over a bookshelf and down to his eating spot, entirely without noise. T’Char takes the brief pause in the chaos of her quarters to continue her log.

“He was not what I expected. Though in honesty I am uncertain what it is I expected to begin with. I do not have any experience with parental figures outside of my mother, who was.. less than ideal.”

T’Char moves back to her desk chair, slumping into the seat and turning to look out her viewport, releasing the air she forgot she was holding captive.

“Still, it was a success. I informed him that I would remain in contact, and that should his duties bring him within proximity to the Boston, he would be welcome to visit. Though, as a member of the High Command diplomatic core, it is unlikely I will see him in person any time soon.”

She leans back against the head cushion of her seat, allowing herself the indulgence of slouching while not under observation by her peers. An act of relaxation rare from the usually high strung T’Char.

“I can say it was… pleasant, to be validated directly. Acknowledged in a way I never received from any parent before. It-”

T’Char halts herself in her speech, suddenly tense again in her shoulders, just from instinct.
“..It was unfamiliar. And produced emotions I was unable to discern. Though I did not reject them out of hand.”

She shakes her head and stands up again, trying to regain control over her notable dysregulation. One arm stretches over the other, and reverse, a leg is pulled upwards and back with a hand, all while T’Char speaks to her console.

“My.. unfamiliarity with these- hnf- emotions is troubling, but at the same time I -huff- I am unwilling to reject them out of hand. What I require is meditation and -Hmmph- and control.”

The Vulcan remains in place, bent at the waist facing forwards to touch her toes, stretching the back of her calves. A moment passes as T’Char inhales and exhales evenly, confirming her bodily sensations for tension or anxiety, before slowing rolling back upright. A hand moves to pull out the tie in her ponytail, and shake loose her profuse curls normally pulled tight.

“And perhaps tea. Strong, mellowing tea. Computer, end log.”


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