#kashnohv

[entriprises]

she sits up, a huff escaping her lips as her arms fold over the tops of her bent knees. boots skid into her vision, kicking up dust that she instantly turns away from to not end up with a face full. spock.

“look at me . how many fingers am i holding up ?” ‧₊˚ @kashnohv . . . making demands.

"what?" her head shakes, tilting up. though she looks at him as though he's suddenly grown another head -- not an entire improbability with anyones track record -- she knows she's not seeing double. she's seeing spock, unharmed, perhaps a bit dusty, and holding up a hand that she politely pushes away. "is that supposed to be a joke?" the human phrase from him of all people knocks farrah more off balance than the hill that she just took a tumble down. "mr. spock i'm not dying. it's not that grave. i'm at worst a little bruised."

[guidefaithed]

"I had a dream tonight. You were in it."

"You did?" She looked up from the PADD in her hands, trading the words about a potential new painting course for patients for the familiar, steady presence of Spock. His expression was unusually serious, making her suspect the dream had not been a pleasant one. "If you'd like to share it with me, we could consult the writings of La'rath and see what meaning it might hold in your subconscious."

La'rath, one of Vulcan's most renowned oneirologists, had a reputation that was anything but unanimous. While some dismissed his methods as lacking scientific rigor, T'Pring had always found his work deeply compelling. Few Vulcans had dared to explore the science of dreams, but La'rath had collaborated with numerous other species to advance his research.

Her mother was not particularly fond of him. Perhaps that was why T'Pring had already invited him to dinner twice. He had accepted both times, eager to discuss his work and seemingly impervious to T'Pril's pointedly disapproving looks.

[entriprises]

eyes wide, “oh,” head nodding, “right, uh,” their eyes move from the panel to the officer before them and then back away, “i will do that.” quieter, voice held under their breath, “i don’t know how i’ll possibly do that, but…” all the technology at their fingertips is different — back to the way it used to be before the discovery was fitted out with a complete technology update. what adira remembers of any of it from the short time aboard the ship before then is limited. what good is the symbiote if it doesn’t apply now?

their head turns up once more, offering a slight smile, embarrassed and awkward, “thanks. thank you, uh...” and now waiting for a name in reply.

‧₊˚ @kashnohv : continued from this post

[entriprises]

Spock @ Adira.

adira blinks in surprise, eyes a little wide as they suck a breath in, mouth open in search of some words. maybe it'll come to them now after having taken a breath -- they're truly a little caught off guard. sure enough a smile overtakes their features as they nod with a small, "thank you, mr. spock."

[lookedinfinite]

@kashnohv | continued from here

she always came and went without announcement, with barely any noise. a fluttering between seasons: always watching the world around her. she suited being seperate from it - or, at very least, she did in own mind, in own view of herself. but there's fascination that comes with watching it all, with staring into the windows of other people's lives. growing up on vulcan had shaped her plenty, beyond the sharpness of pointed ears beneath always carefully styled brown hair, ignoring the chill in the air, having had no real intention to do more than pass through like curious ghost. just to catch a glimpse, then to return to whatever work was sitting in wait for her return.

her name - or rather, her rank - hadn't been something she'd been listening out for. giving low hum in reply, doe eyes blinking as they took a moment to flicker away from whatever across room had momentarily caught her attention.

polite nod was already a greeting, maeve never one for too many words. "in truth, I haven't decided yet." her adoptive father had been such a big fan of anything from earth's old days: movies, books, songs. there was something nostalgic to it regardless of how she had no intention of ever willingly returning to planet. "I don't believe I've seen this particular one since I was a child." 

[owedfavors]

⤷ ✧ @kashnohv said, ❝ You were in a fight. ❞

❛ I was not. ❜ the stress lands ambiguously, simultaneously neither I was not, nor I was not, and a subtle blend of both. after all, to be in a fight implies some participation in the events, not merely the receipt of stray fire, and it had not been she embroiled in the whole affair. save, that was, for the unfortunate circumstance of having to wrangle back to the settlement a lost group of the colony's children. a lost group of children who had provoked the conflict in question.

the disapproval and exasperation in her tone, however, is wholly unambiguous. ❛ is it just me, spock, or did the governor neglect to mention the presence of other settlements when he requested our help? ❜

perhaps settlements indicates too much organization. more concise than individuals not belonging to this settlement, if perhaps less accurate. una doesn't know, a fact as annoying as the rest of her current circumstances. after all, were it not for her undesired charges, whom she had sent in the direction of medical care with one of the colonists as soon as they reached the perimeter, she might have had the answers.

[entriprises]

“it’s been my experience that not everything makes it to the official record.” she leans over, a cautious hand reaching out to gently swipe alongside a branch of the flower shrub. its yellow blooms leave hairs all along her hand as it pulls away slowly. rubbing the texture between her fingers, it’s nothing too new or really surprising. “there’s always a chance with the million starships out there that some group, however small, happened to make a pit stop. it wouldn't be that far fetched...” she looks over towards him and the top of his head, "some rogue australians."

farrah expects the plant to stump her, her knowledge of plants limited to some introductory classes, and a single botany class a decade ago that taught her more about survival tactics than it did plant care. but it doesn’t matter what the plant is. this is a discussion of light, and the lack of it. "maybe they saw something or did something to the plant seed. if it's been here long enough or been modified in any way, it might not need the sun. there could be something in the soil or deeper that can replace the sunlight required for photosynthesis with something that could help oxidize the water and create the glucose and the oxygen.”

standing back up, letting her back crack at the fix of her posture, "chemosynthesis eliminates the need for light, but it's usually found in oceans. with something like sonoluminescence— though it’s never been tried for something like this— the water could in theory become the light."

‧₊˚ @kashnohv : continued from this post