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)
Posted by… suppressed (4) by the Post Ghost! 👻

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

Slipping into the sleek black shoes, Symar indicated a small round rug in the corner of the room, “I will only require a space around that size, though it would be preferable if the material were more akin to wood.”

-Lieutenant Symar: Chief Medical Officer-

“Wood…” T’Aria knit her eyebrows in a pensive frown and scoured the contents of her quarters. Did she possess anything wooden and smooth? Her decore was much too small and her relics too delicate, but… T’Aria lifted a ‘one moment’ finger and vanished into her bedroom. She emerged heartbeats later with a pair of round wood canvases Y’cha gifted for their second ‘art therapy session’. They weren’t cut for tap dance, but she suspected the origin and purpose of their platform had little bearing on the art.

“Will these suffice?” T’Aria propped them against the wall for Symar to inspect while she nudged the table and attending pillows to a less intrusive and fall-prone space.

— T’Aria, XO

“I am not an Engineer,” Symar said flatly, “However, logic would dictate that if you can find a way of fastening the canvases together as one, I should have enough room to perform a routine.”

-Lieutenant Symar: Chief Medical Officer-

T’Aria draped a quilted blanket over the table and shot Symar a cocked eyebrow. But, she detected the irritation bubbling in her belly and hindered any attempt at betrayal. She took in a slow, sobering breath and snatched the canvases from their perch. “Next time,” T’Aria strode into the dining module and tugged open a drawer, “we do this in your quarters.” From an indexed array of screws, small tools and what appeared to be substitute strings, she seized a roll of half-used duct tape. Then, releasing her supplies to the floor, she carefully stitched the canvases together with approximately three 10cm with two 15cm strips to reinforce the anterior.

“I am, too, not an engineer.” T’Aria ascended and swiftly returned the duct tape to its shady locale. It was neither a feat of engineering nor remotely aesthetic, but she hoped it was at least functional. She lifted her masterpiece and laid it at Symar’s feet. “Is this acceptable?”

— T’Aria, XO