moved to livedtough

moved!

paul has been rehoused here!

moved!

paul has been rehoused here!

moved!

paul has been rehoused here!

moved!

paul has been rehoused here!

#* OUT OF CHARACTER.#ill put this in the queue. once a day for the next week.#this one makes me sad but its for the best and hes not leaving!! just moving :]

moved!

paul has been rehoused here!

i think it might be time for paul to go to the multi. i'll make a proper announcement when its time

phoenixspirits

It's obvious from the way they keep skirting around him that Paul doesn't want to talk about Dr Culber. And maybe that's not healthy in the long run but Airiam's not a therapist and it's not her judgement to make. And Paul's never liked talking about feelings, not as long as she's known him, at least. She doesn't count the time he spent high on the mycelial network.

"I don't think that's weird," she replies, head tilted towards him. "When you say 'anywhere' do you mean anywhere on the ship? Or anywhere anywhere?"

They've all just been through a horrific war. They've lost crewmates, loved ones. None of them are the same people they were before. Just magnified, of course, in Paul's case.

#omg hi! no this is great this is fun yay #im doing pretty well i hope you are too <3!#* VERSE; SEASON ONE.#* QUEUE.#phoenixspirits

She could ask, but she doesn't, and he's grateful. Most people haven't, have had the wisdom to understand that if he didn't want to talk before, he certainly can't now. Some people, the ones he has managed to form something of a relationship with, have tried, but he tends to brush them off. The worst part, though, is the pity. The people who have never spoken to him before now looking at him with open pity. They skirt around him, not because they don't want to be on the receiving end of his glare, but because they don't know how to react to him. Because they don't want to face the fact that they could be in his place.

She does ask one question, though, and it's a good one. It's one he can't exactly figure an answer to. He has never been able to stand not having the answers, and he's had less than ever since Hugh died.

"I don't know," he says after a moment's pause and a furrow between his eyebrows. "Maybe just anywhere. But I've only been here, and I don't know where I should go to find out."

i. What color is paul's aura?

succulents, key lime, glow-in-the-dark stars, blown glass, honeydew, garter snakes, notes in bottles. your essence is honeysuckle: you are quiet and avoidant, submerged in your own privacy. you compartmentalize effortlessly; you are many pieces, and rarely do others see the whole picture. you are creative but trepid -- cautious to address your feelings even in solitude. you are the recluse. you are the librarian. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of moss, chartreuse, sage, and peach, who share your profound curiosity. you are also drawn to the expressive souls seafoam and apricot, who will help you grow and trust others to listen respectfully to you. however, you may struggle to get along with the people-pleasing personalities of rose and cream who come across as shallow and pandering.

tagged by: @heartsrising

tagging: you!!!!

#had to retake this. turned out i misread one. like this MUCH better #* DASH GAMES.#* AESTHETICS.

Something about the bluntness of the question was achingly familiar, but also comforting. Elnor returned the faint smile. "I am not Vulcan." He grinned brightly. "I am the first of my species in Starfleet. I could say that I am one of the Rigellian Vulcanoid species... but that would be a lie. It would, however, be closer to the truth than it is not."

That would be because the Rigellian Vulcanoids were an offshoot of the Romulan exodus. But he could not say that part of it. The scans, however, confirmed that: at least, neurologically. They could not yet account for the other physiological differences. Otherwise, however, he seemed to be in perfect health. Abnormally perfect health.

Still, his excitement about this, his joy at his own truth, overrode some of the fear that threatened to overwhelm his heart. In the moment, that meant that joy was all that he had there: joy, beauty, the delight of discovery, at the entire universe of things. It chased away the shadows as if they had never existed. The scans showed that too--a decrease in stress chemicals, neurons lighting up in different patterns.

"... What you said before, about mycelium? It makes sense." His smile faded. "I wish more of my species thought that way: to share the universe. I-- I shouldn't... say more, but... I want to?"

He looked at Paul searchingly. This was why he had joined Starfleet after all: to explore, to meet new species, to share his own culture with them, to find those similarities and differences, to help people. Paul seemed to share that, he thought, if only a little. He came alive when they spoke of time, or fungi, and now about his species.

"It's why I joined Starfleet. That, and to aid my friends. To learn and explore. You feel that way, I... think. Why aren't you happy here?"

It was probably too prying, to candid, but he decided he did not care. This officer was the opposite of what he had been warned about when he started at the Academy. He didn't treat him differently, didn't seem to be taken aback by earnest curiosity. That was comforting, as well.

Maybe, if this man had a place in Starfleet, Elnor could have one too.

#THANK YOU thats the nicest thank you :]#* VERSE; SEASON TWO.#* QUEUE.#semnhakkon

There, now he understood. He looked between Elnor and the nurse who was looking him over, and received a nod. Everything he said was in place. An unfamiliar biology, but close enough to a Vulcan that it wasn't entirely impossible that, instead of a strange series of birth defects, he was, rather, part of an offshoot series. A separate branch of evolution that was currently unknown to Starfleet in Paul's time. Fantastical, maybe, but so was being trapped within a realm of mushrooms with a man that claimed to be from another time. So was the fact that Paul believed him without reservation.

"Then we'll leave it at that," he agreed with a small smile of his own. He knew what it could feel like to feel the need to hide himself away, and despite so many less desirable facets of his personality, the parts that were so often labeled as prickly, he didn't think that anyone should have to pretend to be something they weren't. Even if Rigellian Vulcanoid was as close as they were going to be able to get.

As Elnor's stress decreased, as he opened up back to Paul, he could feel his own neurons firing, could feel the release of pleasant chemicals. (It had always been difficult to be such a brilliant man, to rely so heavily on facts and to dislike the idea that he was a slave to chemicals in his brain. It was made all the more harder to come to understand that he was a man who felt deeply. It was a constant point of contention between the body and the self that made him long for a Vulcanoid purging of emotion. Or, perhaps, a body of wires incapable of feeling. A man could dream, couldn't he?)

"If there's anything I've learned since coming here, it's that everything is connected." He didn't mean it as though Starfleet had awakened some deep, previously unknown spirituality, but in a very literal way. "This place connects to everywhere. If some people knew that, they'd want to use it for power." A pause. "I only ever wanted to find out what that meant." Which was all to say that he understood. He wished more of his species thought that way, too.

When this had started, he'd thought of everything that could be done. Travel in an instant, transport of medicine and food before disease had the chance to become a plague. Clean, instant access to anywhere. And Starfleet took his work and attached it to their flagship in the war against the Klingons. He might not know anything about the Romulans, but he certainly knew what it was like to feel like the lone scientist in a room of soldiers.

If Elnor was from the future, there was no reason to keep anything a secret. This should all be public knowledge, shouldn't it? Though his lack of familiarity with the little Paul had shared so far was suggesting a few unpleasant ideas about what happened to his work. His lips pursed for a moment as he thought of how to explain himself, how to turn his thoughts into the right words.

"I joined Starfleet because my research was going to end up with them whether I liked it or not, and I thought it would be better if I was there. I always thought they would find a way to use it to make a new weapon. Instead, we used it to travel in order to fight a war. The war's over, and I'm hoping we can help now, but...I lost people. Being a part of this hurt people I cared about." He paused, sighed. He hated talking about himself like this, about the things that he felt, especially before a roomful of people. "Starfleet talks about exploration and discovery, but they told me that this was a science vessel. I'm still waiting for the science."

Elnor's curious squint narrowed. "How is that any different from wires? They are very thin, they connect systems, they are used to communicate, and... cells can be programmed... sort of... right? And, why is that obvious?"

Not that he could explain why he was asking, anyway. From the era he guessed this ship was from, he had to keep knowledge of the Borg to a minimum. And, anyway, he was quickly distracted by the medbay.

Images and sensations flooded his mind as he stared at the biobed: burning in his chest, flashes of green--green light, green blood--darkening the brightness of this open, white-flooded room. Gold. Raffi's hair, glowing warmly against the green, her eyes lit up by it.

He backed up closer to Paul, the only friendly face here, then turned to look at him. Something about his expression, that strained smile, brought his courage back. He took a breath, nodded slowly, and walked over to the medical station. He took a seat, just a seat, on the edge of the bed, gripping the edge so hard his fingers turned pale.

... This wasn't like him. That was, for some reason, difficult to voice.

He looked at the doctor, then at Paul, grounding himself in the explanation that needed to happen. "There will be some anomalies on your scan from what you expect from a Vulcan." He touched the base of his palm on one hand with the other. "A much more pronounced wrist-spur and more robust skull features, although--" No, wait, too much information. Don't start talking about regional differences on Romulus-that-was. "--not... excessively. And... different... neurological structures. I ask forgiveness. I cannot explain completely why."

That would mean explaining what Romulans were. And it would mean getting into the history of Romulan genetic engineering, something he was unsure if the Federation even had detail about in his time. So, he kept silent, frowning in frustration at the lack of candor. He was annoyed. And annoyed was better than frightened or confused.

"I wish I could tell you everything. I think I dislike protocols. A lot."

#:))#* VERSE; SEASON TWO.#* QUEUE.#semnhakkon

What a beautiful question, Paul thought. He looked to the younger man with a smile, small, almost hesitant. He was not much one for smiling, and lately had become even less so, but he liked the comparison that was being drawn here. Physics as biology, wires as mycelium. He was so set on dismissing him, on insisting that they weren't wires, but, really, what could Paul say to tell him otherwise? He shrugged. "I guess it's not. You'd be surprised just how many things we've invented that mirror nature. We think we know better, that we've mastered the universe, but how can we say that? We don't own the universe. We share it." But that was enough of his soapbox for the moment. "Everything comes down to biology in the end."

He was distracted, distracted by himself, when Elnor moved closer. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked to the younger man. So this protectiveness went both ways, it seemed. But did Paul feel for him as a person, or an experiment? And did it matter, when Paul had always loved his experiments more than people? For a moment, he felt almost nervous. He was not interested in being imprinted upon. Even if he'd already done the same. He wished he'd adopted a cat instead.

Despite his hesitancy, Paul nodded. There was no danger here, and that was something he could promise. At least, not from other people. Not anymore.

He took a small step closer to the bed as Elnor sat on it, and he told himself it was only so he could get a better look at the screens. What it ended up doing, though, was giving him a better look at the man as he spoke. Anomalies? He didn't suppose that was all that strange, but the anomalies themselves seemed odd. He wasn't sure if he was a half-Vulcan, though his understanding was that the case of Burnham's brother was rare. Though that could have been his own ideas of the species, that they didn't seem terribly interested in anything outside of it. Maybe, though. Maybe. Or they could have been birth defects.

Or...

He was from another time, wasn't he? It was possible that he wasn't Vulcan, at least not in the way that they thought of them now. That theory was given significant support by his plea for secrecy. Paul wanted to know, but he understood. And it thrilled him.

"You're...not a Vulcan, are you?" A pause, then a smile. "And you can't answer that. Never mind."

get to know your mutuals! ( answer & tag six people ! )

favorite color: pink and turquoise that hurts to look at

last song: uhhh i forget.

currently reading: angels of music by kim newman (not great. actually really stupid but i love the phantom so i had to try) and on my phone i have gwendy's final task by stephen king and richard chizmar that i started because i couldnt get angels on my phone for bed time and honestly forgot about

currently watching: uhh therm stream

currently playing: tomodachi life & legend of zelda skyward sword

currently craving: the ice cream i was supposed to get today that they didnt have

tagged by: @heartsrising tagging; you!

#* DASH GAMES.#* OUT OF CHARACTER.

Oops. Elnor had assumed that Absolute Candor would be his worst enemy when it came to the Prime Directive... but in this case, it was a simple mistake. He blinked in surprise, then corrected, "Um, you probably know it as General Order One. It... also... applies... in situations like this. Situations outside of... time. I think. I haven't taken Temporal Mechanics yet." He admitted quietly, "I've failed the prerequisite."

He listened carefully as they walked, only very occasionally eyeing the security team. He had decided they were no longer in danger of throwing him back out and could easily be ignored. He was much, much more interested in what this Science officer had to say.

"... Between normal planes of space... connected... like... wires? There was a species, one we, um, acquired the aid of to travel across time? They are connected to every version of themselves, across all times. They are very dangerous." His brow furrowed in thought. "But they do not use fungi to communicate. I... think. And it does not explain-- it does not explain why I am here when I remember dying."

It was not the only thing this reminded him of, but he filed the superstitions away for later. He did not want to begin speaking of something he was not sure was the truth. Instead, he stopped in the middle of medbay, watching the biobed with a sudden pit of unease, and took a single step back. He looked at him helplessly.

"Am... Am I required to lie down on the biobed?"

#it's fine <3 #* VERSE; TBA.#* QUEUE.#semnhakkon

General Order One. Paul may never have set foot within the halls of Starfleet Academy, but he'd been briefed on what mattered when it came to the rules and regulations of the organization. Of course, knowing Hugh had given him a bit of exposure beforehand, but he'd never thought he would need any of it. (He couldn't stand it, just how much every part of his life was colored with him. Grief, it turned out, was a terrible thing.) "Right," he said, nodding. "Even if it doesn't, it's probably best to avoid it, anyway. Those things seem to have a way of getting complicated."

He spoke like this was normal, and to him, it was. Or, if not normal, it was exciting. He could say that he didn't have much more than anyone else on the ship, but the fact that he had more experience at all was probably saying something. His understanding that the majority of people's experience with temporal phenomena was usually zero.

"Like mycelium," he corrected, the sparkle in his eyes probably not one that many people get when speaking of fungus, but that had never bothered him before. "They're the roots of fungi, very thin, that they use so communicate. This specific species is very special, and, yes, it connects everywhere. This place is the common space for every universe." Which was to say dangerous. He shook his head. "Of course it does. This place uses fungus." He said it like it was obvious, which, to him, it was.

What wasn't obvious, though, was the connection between Elnor and the network. His eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment he turned it over. It was a good question, that much was certain. "I'm going to figure out why you're here," he assured, and that much he could do. His lips pursed in a tight smile, though. He knew that this promise couldn't be worth much. At the other's concern, he looked between him and the others, unsure, though he was already feeling somewhat protective over him. "I'm sure they could look at you standing...?"

Elnor nodded quietly, pressing his palm to the ship, feeling the coolness of it, the sleek flat plane. It was calming. He took a breath. "Q. A powerful... being. I don't know how to explain without breaking the Prime Directive." He looked around the ship again, trying to date it. "I think." He let out his breath with a sigh. When he did, he felt calmer.

He stepped away from the wall, nodded, and started to follow, pointing out, "It's the only ship I could have come to. Unless there are other ships trapped here..." He squinted. "Where is here?"

The fact that they were going somewhere that could help kept him focused, kept him from breaking again. He was, instead, trying to determine what to say when they reached the medbay. If he was correct for how old this ship was... medical scans were going to get interesting. But he was just as soon distracted by another thought.

"... You seemed... excited about something in what I said? Interested? Your demeanor changed. You were no longer agitated."

#they DO!!!!!!!!#* QUEUE.#semnhakkon #* VERSE; TBA.

Q. The name ignited nothing within Paul's mind, and he didn't like that. Still, any unknown fact was something he could learn, right? Something to tell himself, something to get through the moments of that itch. Still, he wasn't entirely sure that he would learn who Q was, especially with the inclusion of the--Prime Directive? His eyebrows furrowed, though a small smile pulled at his lips. He looked to the officers behind him, and they shook their heads. "We don't have that yet." It made enough sense to imagine that it was something that they would have, right? Maybe he shouldn't be accepting of all of this so quickly, but he was. He had seen too much not to.

He started to lead him away, the security team clearly annoyed behind him, but he didn't care. He believed this boy, and he was going to help him. "Not that I know of. I would think that we're the only ones here." A beat. "But I also would have said that there's no reason for you to be here, either." Which was another question to answer.

He led him through the halls, ignoring the looks from others, the comments from the security team that very much did not like what he was doing. "This is the mycelial network. We're in subspace. It's..." his hands move, one beneath the other, "between the normal planes of space. It's the realm connecting the roots, the mycelium of a remarkable species of fungus." Of course he knew how it sounded, but it was the truth.

He didn't like medbay anymore. He hadn't always minded it, but now... Well, that wasn't anyone's problem but his own, so he focused his attention on the others as they entered the room, and if it was a little more focused than it had been, well, that was fine, wasn't it? He was asked a question, and that helped. "I am excited. This place, it's everything I've spent my life working towards. None of us belong here, but finding you...it's incredible."

opens-up-4-nobody

:-)

familyparadox

@insanelyinlovewithstamets

aehallhyon

@quantumstarpaths

#BOYS!#i really like the double tagging #* SHIP; PAUL STAMETS & HUGH CULBER.

Elnor watched all of them with the same attitude as a cat watching a bird, or perhaps of a bird watching a cat. He stood very still, hands behind his back, as his eyes flicked over each person observantly.

He gave Paul a faint squint. "You don't like Starfleeet. Even though you are Starfleet?" And not Confederation. There were non-Humans among the crew. He hesitated and looked away, less to avoid the question as to process what he knew to be true. Or did he? A crease furrowed his brow, and his voice grew softer, quieter.

"I was on a training cruise. We were responding to a possible threat. And then-- and hen I was somewhere else. On Earth, but it wasn't my Earth. It was cruel. The 'Confederation' were conquerors, not explorers." He shifted uncomfortably, uncertainly, hunching his shoulders as he looked to Paul as if he could explain it somehow. "I was a rebel. Most of my friends were... evil. But we remembered our own universe."

The discomfort grew until it felt visceral. His stomach churned near his heart. He touched one hand to his side, to remind himself it was still beating. It was. His eyes could no longer quite meet theirs.

"We were brought there by a powerful alien, um... to test us. We found a way to go back in time, to fix it. But... I was... injured. I remember dying." He hesitated. "Then I woke up here. I don't understand it."

He felt very, very small all of a sudden, and the corridor felt like it was spinning. Was it spinning? He reached out a hand to brush the wall, seeking stability. The cold metal brought a sense of calm. Sort of. He drew on his qalankhai training, trying to name the emotion. Grief, he decided. Overwhelming, unrelenting, crushing grief and confusion.

"... Can you get me home?" he asked, his voice breaking. "You aren't Confederation. We-- we must have succeeded. I will be grieved." He paused, then added as if he was pleading with them, "I grieve."

Naming it did not lessen the pain. It brought it sharply to the surface. He began to shake as he resisted the urge to curl up and cry. It was not how he had been taught... but it was what a Starfleet cadet would do. As he fought with himself, he eyed the Security officers, who were eyeing him with the (justified) tension of someone watching a 'Vulcan' begin to break down.

"... Your Security officers do not trust me. I will answer all of your questions. But I want to eat? And sit?"

#oh wow thank you!!!#* VERSE; TBA.#* QUEUE.#semnhakkon

He gave him a look, not one of judgement, but of irritated acknowledgement. "It's a long story." It wasn't actually, not really, but it wasn't one to get into now. For one, if he started, it wasn't likely that he was going to stop any time soon, and aside from that, there were more important things to focus on. And aside from that, he'd found that security was usually the group of people, not counting command, that felt most strongly about Starfleet. If he started on his tirade, as it had been called once or twice by those closest to him, it might end him with a phaser stun to the back just to shut him up.

He doesn't know what the man's talking about. Training cruise, sure. Another Earth...well, he knows something about that, too. But it doesn't make sense. He understands, but it doesn't make sense. But it does. Of course it does. There's no attention on the others behind him anymore, and he's sure they can't stand it, but he wants this man to come into the ship. They can help him. Maybe he can help them. There's an almost supernatural call to him, but of course that's not real. There's nothing in his blood that sings to the other man's. It's only a light of recognition. He doesn't believe in fate, doesn't believe in destiny, but this feels like the sort of thing that might make a man change his mind.

He nods, and he even smiles. He doesn't care if anyone else has something to say later, if anyone thinks he's acting out of rank--which he is. He is, but he has to. "I think you came to the right ship," he says, and he reaches out for the man's arm, hand resting right above his elbow. He's never one for touch, except for what he initiates. He doesn't like to be touched, but he's surprisingly tactile, especially when he gets excited.

"The Confederation. I haven't heard of that." A beat. "You say that someone changed the timeline?" He didn't know, of course, because if this man was from the future, Paul would be long dead by the time that anything changed. It was almost a shame, though, because Paul would know. The tardigrade DNA would help him keep both times in his mind. Right now, though, he could be of no help. What mattered more importantly, though, was that he died. When Hugh died...Paul had been with him, and he had linked him to the network. Why was this man here? What a wonderful question to answer.

Elnor reached out to balance himself, and Paul understood that he was doing it again. Asking questions, trying to solve mysteries, and not paying attention to the people he was asking them of. But he needs to know. No one ever seemed to understand that he needed to know. It was an itching beneath his skin, a squirming within his chest. He couldn't stand not knowing, having questions unanswered. But now he was getting upset. His voice was breaking, and Paul didn't know what to do. He hated having to comfort people. Weren't Vulcans supposed to have more control? He'd envied it, at times throughout his life. But now he envied nothing, except the people who weren't in this room.

"I don't know," he answered, figuring he may as well be honest. "But we'll try." He would try. But they were already unhappy with his opening the door. He softened his voice slightly. "I think we can arrange that." He looked over to the others, expression asking for him. It wasn't pleading, only questioning. Whatever he was, whoever, he was just a kid. He didn't deserve this. The security team looked between themselves before nodding. "How about we get you to medbay?"

vuulpecula

Nodding, Fox chewed the inside of her cheek. Of course it would involve the medbay. In which would be witnesses to their mistake. Or victims to whatever they might now be harboring. No, that sort of thinking was going to get them nowhere. Yet, shouldn't it be something they thought about? The risk to others? She continued worrying over it as she watched him gather the sample. Watched the spores continue to float around his head. "Y-Yeah, we'll be fine." Though she didn't feel confident, she hoped she at least sounded it. "We're never going to hear the end of this, I bet."