Personal Log, Stardate 40935.17

Posted on 11 Aug 2020 @ 1:55pm by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 11 Aug 2020 @ 4:52pm

“Computer- begin personal log.”

T’Char sits at her desk with her face in her hands. The only light in the room comes from the lamp a few feet away, above her desk console.

“The stardate is 40935.17. I have just returned from my duties in the shuttlebay aiding in the retrofit of another civilian craft. The situation was- tense, to say the very least.”

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“The presence of the Romulan is having an extremely negative effect on the crew. On myself included.”

The Vulcan folds one leg over another as she adjusts in her chair, recrossing her arms with the opposite one on top this time. She can’t help but fidget uncomfortably.

“I very publicly became emotionally compromised. Albeit from the- incentivisation of the Romulan agent, it was still very much my own fault.”

T’Char digs her nails into her arms. It hurts, especially on her left arm where the burns used to be. She presses harder to intensify the nerve agitation.

“In the process, I made several expressive statements that were...damaging. Specifically.. in reference to the relationship I have with Lieutenant th’Vovass.”

She stands up abruptly as if she’s going to pace across the room, but she only manages to walk around to the back of her chair to grip the headrest anxiously.

“The- Rihansu repeatedly made the distinction between me and Lieutenant th’Vovass as being-” She bites her lip and tries to scowl, but it just makes her look like she’s about to burst into tears.
“.. more, I mean.. a-as if he was he was in fact my t’hy’la. Which, is of course, absurd. And illogical. And more than likely not a facet to how Kyr perceives my affections for him.”

Her hand moves up to her mouth so she can chew on her nails. They’ve already been bitten to pieces today, but she finds places to gnaw irregardless.

“During my- outburst I, attempted to correct her, perhaps more enthusiastically than should be expected of a Vulcan in total control of her emotions. Very typical of me, I am beginning to suspect.”
The Vulcan finally starts to pace, but only makes it to the bed and back to her chair once before she sits down at her desk again.

“In my enthusiasm, I stated that we were not mated together. As is the truth. However, with the emotional intensity that I expressed, I am concerned that I have insinuated the concept of being t'hy'la to Kyr would be- undesirable.”

She wrings her hands together, squeezing her fingers as she gesticulates with her face in a very un-Vulcan manner.

“Which is, of course, incorrect. Not to insinuate that I have such a desire at this time. Not to say that I am entirely against the idea, of course. Or that such emotional attachment is not worth consideration. But it is also not up to only myself if theoretically, there was a scenario in which these emotions were shared. Which by the very definition of the scenario requires that both of us have the same emotional attachment to each other. Which he most certainly does not, for me. And I do not have those sorts of emotional attachments either.”

When she finally inhales she feels a bit lightheaded. Her head falls back into her hands as she leans on the desk.

“And even if, in this theoretical scenario, the emotions are reciprocated, which is not possible, I am still undesirable. I cannot have a family, and I am a Romulan. I have no aspects that can be classified as having any value. I am barely in control of my emotional state because of a heritage I cannot claim or even validate.”

She can tell her breathing is uneven, and there’s a lump forming in her throat. She doesn’t bother to try suppressing it this time, but nothing happens. Her eyes are misty but there’s no will to cry. All the Vulcan is able to do is stay in one spot, and feel everything. It’s very disorienting.

T’Char puts her forehead on the desk as she wraps her hands around her neck, leaning all the way forwards over the screen-like surface.

“In my unbalance, I also attempted to rectify the situation by repeating a gesture I- have always been curious about. Humans seem to do it quite often to express a form of friendly intimacy, it is called a ‘hug.’ After apologizing to Kyr for my outburst, I.. hugged him. It was very... pleasant. I wish to hug him again some time.”

She rolls her head to the side to stare at her console. It clearly states the time, and a small red dot confirms that she’s still recording. Her reflection in the screen is distorted and wobbly. T’Char thinks it’s an excellent representation of her current mental state.

“The prospect seems unlikely. As a result of my emotional compromise, he was forced by his duties to report my actions to the First Officer. She was significantly displeased.”
As she props her head up to place her chin on her arms, her voice gets hoarse. Her toes in her boots curl as she fidgets in her seat, unable to truly sit still.

“I should note, one of the other Vulcans onboard, an Ensign T’Rena was present for the lecture as well. Though… if I am being honest it seemed as if Commander Raj had much more pressing concerns to address with her. Her… agita, was mostly directed at the Ensign, perhaps unfairly. I attempted to take full responsibility for the resulting situation, and for provoking our Romulan guest.”

T’Char sits back up and slouches into her seat. “I do not believe I was successful.”

“I cannot help but consider what might have happened if I had not lost control. My outburst seemed to be the instigation of a series of conflicts, all of which revolved around the Romulan. Even Lieutenant Vos was emotionally displaced a great deal by the atmosphere in the shuttlecraft.”

She shivers slightly as a brush of cold air from the ventilation system moves past her, it makes the Vulcan fold her arms again. Her nails go back to digging into her arm. The pain helps her focus, somehow.

“I would like to state for the record that I maintain full responsibility for inciting any grievances towards the Romulan agent that she, or any other officer may have been witness to. Ensign T’Rena followed her duties, in my observation, to the letter. Where I failed by giving in to a provoked emotional response, she not only did not respond, but tolerated preceding verbal abuse from the Romulan agent. I will again request that any penalties she incurs be applied to myself as well.”

Her arm is gouged to the point where the recently healed muscles start to get sore again. The action of irritating her nervous centers becomes unconscious.

“The welfare of Lieutenant Vos has seemed to decline since our encounter with the Orion raiding party. I cannot help but feel partially responsible for damaging her emotional state, however unintentional it may have been. I attempted to rectify my mistake by offering to guide her in a meditation exercise but- that, was-”

She grimaces, tightening her grip on her arm.
“Ill-advised, perhaps. She seemed preoccupied with the opinions of Commander Raj on a subject. It is highly probable that she was approached by the commander for some feature regarding the Romulan. All of which would not have occurred if I had simply remained in control in the first place..!”

The Vulcan is leaving scratch marks on her own skin. Tiny pinpricks of green begin to show on her epidermis where her nails pass over.
“There is no resolution to this except for the fact that I must endeavor to remain in control. When I am not in control, I am capable of great harm to others, even without even the intention to do so. End of Log.”

She pushes her finger into the screen aggressively on her console, even though the computer beeps to tell her the voice command was recognized.
T’Char wishes she could reach over and tear the skin off her arm. To throw her green ichor against the window and paint the stars. In a way, she’d cover the universe. But how arrogant, to think she could fill the void, one small, ultimately inconsequential collection of biological matter. That is, of course, illogical. This entire speculative journey is illogical. Why detail over emotional dramatics like some kind of Rihansu a’rip’an, it’s incredibly juvenile.

She finally looks at her arm and recoils, she’s left a few minor cuts. She pulls her sleeve down to hide them.