Posted by Captain Zachariah Cobb (Commanding Officer) in Jörmungandr Lounge - All crew welcome
OOC: I’m going to reproduce here my initial description of the Jörmungandr, just to help you all visualise your surroundings:

The frigid off-white walls had been painted a deep, azure blue and decorated with nautical-themed paraphernalia - an old, rusted anchor, a shelf holding lanterns of all shapes and sizes, a decorative fishing net. Along the left and right walls were a series of booths, with nautical-striped couches and sturdy wooden tables, each one illuminated by a holographic candle in a hurricane-lamp style holder. Additional seating was scattered randomly about the remaining available space, taking the form of comfortable sofas and smaller, round tables with stools.

The bar itself ran almost the full length of the back wall. Fashioned from the same light wooden panels as the tables, the countertop had a transparent aluminium surface, beneath which sat a beach collage of sand and coloured shells. Floor to ceiling shelving behind the bar held a dazzling array of multi-coloured bottles and decanters, although Zachariah suspected that most still contained synthehol. But he’d be willing to donate a few key items from his personal collection to enhance such wonderful surroundings.

But the true centrepiece of the Jörmungandr was a huge, cylindrical vessel that reached from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. To an engineer like Cobb, it was instantly recognisable as a magnetic constriction segment from an old M/ARA reaction assembly, except here it had been repurposed into an aquarium, alive with brightly coloured, real, tropical fish. The illumination cast by the column radiated waves of shimmering blue across the entire space, making one feel as if they were indeed submerged underwater.

---

IC: It had been a difficult couple of weeks. Gods, was that all the time that had passed? To Cobb it had felt like several lifetimes already! And while, as Captain of this vessel, he was as acutely aware as anyone else onboard, of the vast preparation still required before they reached the Paulson nebula, he was also aware that all work and no play oft made Jack a very dull boy.

And so, at around noontime that day, every crewmember would have received a personal message from their captain that read:
=^= Crew, I realise that the past two weeks have been chaotic and that our premature departure has added much to your already significant workloads. I can not thank each one of you enough for the skill and the dedication with which you have helped to get this ship up to scratch. I anticipate another two days before we reach our destination. Just enough time, I reckon, to reward you all for your continued, and highly valued, service.
So I would be honoured if you would present yourself to the Jörmungandr lounge, at twenty-hundred hours this evening, for a chance to relax, to enjoy some good food, good wine and the best company in the Federation. The occasion will be informal so please, dress as dazzling or as casual as pleases you.
I look forward to seeing you all there.
Your Captain, Zachariah Cobb =^=

As guests arrived, they would find the lounge lit by countless holographic candles and ‘fairy lights’, an upbeat jazz melody emanating from the central computer. On the bar lay a dazzling array of foods, all replicated of course, representing as many different cultures and races as Zachariah had been able to recall in the two hours it took him to prepare (he had also considered donating a jar of his treasured cookies but had changed his mind at the last).

Behind the bar, the shelves were filled with an array of different drinks and liquors, some of them synthetic, others the genuine article. All available for the guests to simply help themselves.

And leaning against the aquarium, in dark navy trousers and a rainbow hawaiian shirt, was Captain Zachariah Cobb, his long hair and beard neatly combed and plaited, in a manner reminiscent of Terran vikings of old. Were one to scrutinise the man too closely then they might wonder if he was nervous about the upcoming festivities. But the large bottle of mead in his hands would hopefully take care of that soon enough.

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

Casela had seriously contemplated not going to this event. But Zachariah had made it very clear to her that he expected her to be in “top form.” That meant that she had to show up to this gathering of his. Of course she’d encouraged him to have this gathering. She supposed she’d better not show up in uniform. That wouldn’t exactly show support for the good captain. Casela opted for what she called gypsie pants. They tied in the back and wrapped around to tie again in the front. The pants legs over lapped but there seam was open. She choose them because the appeared casual but they were easy to move and fight in. Her shirt was a long hemmed capped sleeve blouse, her hair in its usual bun.

She entered the lounge several minutes before 2000 hours. She glanced around, not having been there before and took in the nautical theme. She made her way over to Cobb and inhaled the honey scent of the mead. “Mead?” she asked as she approached him. The smell made her homesick for her time with Admiral T’Jal. The woman had a strong love for her Irish heritage and though mead wasn’t historically Irish, her family had brewed it for generations. Seeing Zachariah’s Nordic braids reminded her of Jake Smith, T’Jal’s husband. He strongly identified with his Nordic heritage and seeing Cobb wearing the braids and then the smell of the mead made the Lounge feel like the last place she had called home. It will sneak up on ya when ye least expect it, this new home yer looking for. ‘Shut up’ she told her memories. She wished that she hadn’t given the RTF team the night off. They’d train tomorrow before they were deployed to the Einstein. They’d worked hard and deserved to enjoy themselves as well. She’d sneak out early and put in some of her own practice. She’d make it up to the captain later. Large social functions were not her idea of relaxation. “You’ve out done yourself, Zachariah.”

Casela Synthi-er