Posted by Lieutenant Symar (Chief Medical Officer) in Putting on a Logical Top Hat (Tag XO)

Posted by Lieutenant Commander T’Aria (XO / Navigation Officer) in Putting on a Logical Top Hat (Tag XO)

Posted by Lieutenant Symar (Chief Medical Officer) in Putting on a Logical Top Hat (Tag XO)

T’Aria wiggled her brush to coax a blob of muted greyish blue paint (“livid”, as Y’cha often insisted) from her palette. Tenderly to avoid disturbing the damp, half-blended gradient that saturated her canvas, she flicked her wrist in quick and controlled blotches. That was what Y’cha had suggested, no? T’Aria peeked at the PaDD communique to check, but it was beyond her visual range. It would have to do. She dipped her brush in a mason jar of murky water and considered the canvas. Though her clouds took on outlandish shapes, perhaps offensive to the eye, she supposed even nature refused total perfection. Snatching a thinner brush and a tube of brown (“Umber”) paint, T’Aria prepared the next step in her ‘meditative’ session: trees.

Symar felt… conflicted, a new and highly illogical feeling for the Vulcan Doctor. His feelings for Lieutenant T’Aria were becoming more and more apparent as their time on board the Chernov went on. The two had requested to spend shifts together frequently since their first meeting. Now; a tap dancing seession in his quarters, not the usual recreational activity for two Vulcan Starfleet Officers, was next on the agenda. Arriving at the XO’s Quarters on Deck 2, a freshly polished pair of sleek black tap shoes in hand, Symar gave a gentle click of the door chime and stood, resolute in his decision.

-Lieutenant Symar: Chief Medical Officer-

T’Aria lifted her head to a familiar footfall, wavering until the chime confirmed her suspicions. “Come in!” She called over the ‘Enter Sandman’ (a song she found particularly curious) bellowing in the background. Rising, she slipped her remaining brushes into the jar and nudged them further onto the table. Then, untying her apron, T’Aria draped it over the chair and made a quick approach to the door. If Symar were to enter any moment before, he might’ve caught a paint-stained, messy-haired woman moving in deceiving chaos about her quarters. It was a conflicting sight if he were not aware of her mannerisms.

“Doctor Symar, I was not expecting…” she consulted the clock only to discover time had deceived her, but she refused to allow the bashfulness to seep into her expression. “My mistake. Please, come in.”

— T’Aria, XO

Symar arched an eyebrow, “My apologies, I can return later if you would prefer?”

-Lieutenant Symar: Chief Medical Officer-

“No…” T’Aria glanced at the unfinished canvas glowering from its easel, “I welcome the distraction.”

Although Y’cha praised painting for its ‘innate power to relieve tension and inhibition’, T’Aria failed to derive even a sliver of calm from the art. Every stroke had a deliberate stiffness that divorced the fluidity she came to appreciate in dance. Those clouds, however, were only her first attempt. Maybe she needed to find her rhythm.

“I see you brought your shoes,” she resumed before she risked losing his company (something she looked forward to), “would you prefer to practice here or in the gymnasium?”

T’Aria’s quarters had ample space in dining and living modules, but they were adorned in shelved relics, low-rise tables and seated pillows, tapestries, and rugs galore. Though pristine and contained, she suspected her quarters lacked the space and free movement that tap dance demanded. Then again, she had an especially barren closet that could easily house a few stray items. It was really up to Symar’s comfort and preference.

— T’Aria, XO