Posted by Cadet Caelian Weir (Engineer) in Counselor’ Check-In for Caelian Weir

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Hilo (Counselor) in Counselor’ Check-In for Caelian Weir

Posted by Cadet Caelian Weir (Engineer) in Counselor’ Check-In for Caelian Weir
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Caelian sighed inwardly as the turbolift doors opened. One more stop to make, he consoled himself, then a well-deserved dinner. Then a shower, then bed. Maybe… maybe not in that order.

His last stop would be the easiest on his first day aboard the Challenger: talking to the ship’s counselor. As one of the only children growing up aboard the Venture, he’d gotten used to the quaint chats with the various staff. At times he almost felt like a science project—a curiosity about the effects of extended space travel on the young—but he’d never been insulted by it. Understanding the universe was a science vessel’s goal, after all. This would probably be simple by comparison, an elementary battery of questions designed to clear him for duty.

And since I’m not rampaging around the halls like a Tarcassian razor beast during mating season, he chuckled to himself, I should be fine.

He paused outside the counselor’s office thoughtfully. Was it protocol to just walk in and announce himself? There hadn’t been a waiting area aboard the Venture and he hadn’t thought to check the Challenger’s specs before making his way down here. Shrugging, he pressed the call button on the panel beside the door and waited patiently.

The door to the counselor’s office slid open automatically, obviously expecting Weir’s arrival for his appointment. The room inside was of decent size by dimension, but was filled with an assortment of furniture, art, and lots and lots of plants. In the primary space, a high-backed armchair sat facing a loveseat couch, both adorned with a warm brown cloth fabric and designed for comfort when sitting for extended periods. The loveseat was flanked by two intricate end tables made of dark wood, each of which had an arrangement of little statues, candles, and a tissue box. A hemp rug bridged the space between the two seating options.

There was a desk pushed up against the far wall, but it was almost obscured by an indoor jungle’s worth of potted plants on that side of the room that hung from the ceiling, stood in large vases, or sat on shelves with dozens of other specimens. The plants, in combination with the earth tones of the furniture and the slightly yellowed lighting in the office gave the space a tropical atmosphere. Indeed, the plant life might even make the air feel be a bit more fresh, to those with keen senses.

Among the plants, a tall man with tanned skin and pushed-back brown hair turned to peer through the foliage as the door to his office opened. A small circular symbol sat on his forehead, indicating that he was from Risa. He grinned as he maneuvered through the organic maze. “Cadet Weir! Welcome! I’m counselor Hilo. Please, come in! In fact, come over here,” Hilo said as he motioned toward the jungle, leaving the seating area ignored for now. “I need your opinion on something.”

Hilo stopped in front of a shelf that had three plants sitting in plate-sized pots. One housed a Christmas cactus. Another, a hydrangea. And the last, a sage plant. Hilo put his hands on his knees as he considered them. “I saw that you have some knowledge of music, so surely you have a sense of artistic flow in sequencing… maybe that’s a stretch. In any case, I can’t decide how to present these plants, which order to put them in. I want them to look nice, of course.” He looked back at Caelian. “Any suggestions?”

(Lt. Cmdr. Hilo, Counselor)

For a moment, Caelian wondered if he’d taken yet another wrong turn and ended up in hydroponics. A verdant sea yawned away from him and wrapped around the periphery of the room, curtains of hanging plants partially obscuring the traditional therapist furniture arrangement at its heart. Short as he was, several of the pieces brushed his dark hair as he ventured inward. When the doors hushed closed he felt the tickle of a smile at the corner of his lips. The lighting of the room was softer than the rest of the ship, less harsh on his eyes. The scents of the room were an interesting and soothing mixture of tantalizing aromas and lingering hints. The decor reminded him of a short stint on Dinaar III during one of his mother’s digs—the natives actually grew their homes over centuries of cultivation.

He’d almost lost himself to the surrounding scents and memories when a verbose Risian pressed through the flora, smiling at him and waving him inward. Baffled yet intrigued, Caelin followed dutifully to the display in question. He’d expected a dry, casual conversation with a professional. The man’s demeanor was downright inviting, exuberant! He’d heard of the varied and playful people of Risa, but had never visited the world. Growing up, vacations had either been digging in the dirt of an excavation with his mother or restoring outdated weather control systems with his father. Plenty of good memories there, but nothing this… tranquil.

“I play a bit of piano, sir, but only as a hobby,” he offered as he considered the plants. He knuckled the stubble along his jaw as he thought. “I’ve got the hearing for it, I guess. It’s all math, really: harmonics, resonance, measures, and the like. I wrote a thesis on musical formulas commonly found amongst the Federation…”

He coughed a laugh, waved the idea away. “It was pretty dry, though. Like I said, it’s all math.”

Caelian considered the plants again for a moment, arranging them on the shelf in his mind. He didn’t know much about botany. That had always been Kendra’s passion, and whatever wisdom she had tried to impart on his younger self had gone in one ear and out the other. He placed his knuckles to his lips pensively, considering. Not to hide the saddened expression, no. They did not need to have that conversation. Not yet. Hopefully not ever, though he knew her death would come up.

It always does, he grumbled inwardly.

With a nod, he moved the cactus into the middle of the arrangement. “Perhaps a bit of diminuendo between the two paler, taller plants?”
—Caelian Weir, Cadet—

Hilo narrowed his eyes, inspecting the arrangement critically. The risian symbol on his forehead shifted atop a wrinkled forehead. Then, the counselor burst into a giant smile, and clapped his hands together once. “Perfect!” he exclaimed and then slapped Caelian on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “Looks great! Glad you can be decisive, because that’s not one of my strong suits.” He stood back a couple feet and again appraised the display, arms crossed. Then he nodded once in approval and spun to walk back toward the seating area, motioning for Cadet Weir to follow.

The counselor settled into the high-back seat, crossing one leg over the other at the knee and letting Weir get situated before continuing. “Well welcome to the Challenger! I’m the ship’s counselor, and really I consider myself more of a ‘guidance’ counselor, rather than a ‘psychologist’ counselor. So I’m here to help with any situations that might arise while you’re aboard that cause undue stress. But in in order for me to do my job to the best of my ability, I have to know a bit about you! Of course I’ve read your file, but those tend to be a bland, sanitized version of a real person. So please, tell me about yourself!” The excitement was genuine, and the counselor obviously enjoyed his job and getting to know new cadets. Nethertheless, his eagerness might be a little offputting to some who might have expected a more formal boarding assessment.

(Lt. Cmdr. Hilo, Counselor)

Caelian tipped forward at the friendly gesture, still not sure what to make of the counselor. Certainly, there were people who loved what they did aboard ship, but the man seemed downright bred for the job. Or, he supposed, the Risian possessed the therapist version of bedside manner. He watched, bemused, as Hilo flitted between the curtain of foliage before settling on his seat. Caelian had a little less luck avoiding a few playful slaps from the hanging plants, but sat opposite of Hilo. After adjusting his uniform, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, crossing his fingers in front of him. While a bit worn from all the running around he’d done that day, Caelian seemed at-ease.

“I’m not exactly sure what would interest you, sir,” Caelian shrugged. He lowered his gaze for a moment while he thought, then back up.

“I like to joke that I’m a Starfleet baby, since I was born on a Federation science vessel. My father was a career engineer, third-generation Weir to serve. Probably thought he’d die in the uniform if my mother hadn’t sweet-talked him into retiring. She’s a civilian—xenoarchaeology—but you’d think she was a captain the way she carries herself on a dig. But it works for them, made for a nice home even though we wouldn’t much be planetside when we weren’t digging in the dirt.

“It wasn’t the easiest childhood, mind. Not a lot of kids my age—or at all sometimes—on the Venture, so I guess I got to grow up a little faster than I probably would have liked. It was interesting if nothing else, what with all the scientists to talk to about this and that. Most didn’t even talk down to me, which was nice. I think Mamma was a little sad when I didn’t take to it as much as she did. I was always better with the more technical aspects of life.”

That was a lie. Well, not quite. While it was true that he had a keen mind for facts and figures, he’d also inherited his mother’s love of art and music. As he had mentioned to Hilo before, it was all math to him—the variety was in the expression. When he was young, he would listen to his mother and sister play the piano together for hours, wrapping himself in the melody and exploring the different compositions from across the quadrant. There had been something universal, magickal, about music that stuck with him. He’d even dabbled with it himself, though it was nothing more to him than a hobby.

That had all changed when Kendra died. His mother would still play, but even a light Chopin tune carried a hint of sorrow. Still, it kept her connected to Kendra’s memory and allowed her to grieve. His father, however, had no such means and nearly lost himself in his work. It was only Caelian’s technical curiosity that had pulled him back from a very dark place, gave them the opportunity to bond and grieve together. It eventually became his own coping tool, a way to understand the world around him.

A way to keep the people he cared about safe.

Caelian realized that he’d been quiet for longer than he’d meant to. He scrubbed a hand across his chin and gave a sheepish laugh. “I think that’s what made me apply to Starfleet, to become an engineer—it runs in the family.”
—Caelian Weir, Cadet—

Hilo nodded along in understanding as Caelian spoke, his dark eyes never flickering away from the cadet in front of him. The risian’s bright demeanor had dimmed as the conversation turned more serious, and his boisterous personality had similarly quieted to allow for Caelian to speak for as long as he’d like.

The counselor shifted slightly in his chair to lean more into one corner as Cadet Weir finished. He allowed for a couple seconds of silence, although a perceptive ear would hear that there was some some of miniature, desk-top fountain gurgling somewhere back on the jungle side of the room. “Forgive me if this sounds like a challenge,” Hilo started carefully, “I certainly don’t intend for it to be. But family legacy, in my experience, isn’t usually the most compelling source of motivation. At least, not in isolation. Surely, there’s an additional layer to that, no? What do you want to get out of your career in Starfleet? What drives you?” The counselor was asking for internal motivation, whereas Caelian had (from Hilo’s perspective) described two external sources of motivation: family and being a Starfleet baby.

(Lt. Cmdr. Hilo, Counselor)