Posted by Lieutenant Sural (Chief Engineer) in Sural’s Quarters
Sural stared at the bulkhead from his meditation mat. It was no more than woven rushes intertwined with dark and light tones. It was not particularly more comfortable than the decking but it had a familiarity that was, at least by perception, if illogical, more comfortable. The bulkhead he had installed with ‘holo paper’, a programmable nanite based film that could display any scene even with sounds. Sural was a registered dealer in the patented holo paper. Right now he was looking out from what was the porch of his family’s ancestral home at the desertscape beyond. In the distance the ‘Forge’ could be seen with light misty clouds about its peak. They were rare. Sural could hear the faint wind as it moved through the hollowed out tubes hanging from the edge of the porch. They were not so much chimes as their sound was more mournful, meditative. This was his setting of choice when meditating which he scheduled into his morning routine before going on duty.

Being among a significant crew of severely emotional beings, Sural found he needed this time to refocus. As much as he was trained in the culture and arts of logic, the ‘culture’ of these emotional storms pulled at him and he needed to be reminded that there was another way.
- Sural

OOC: If someone wanted to visit, please do

The Vulcan found that many of the human cultures were extremely emotionally based, including those philosophical movements in their history. In their mental disciplines they only went so far before collapsing among themselves anew. The transition was successful on Vulcan because everyone chose to adopt it; small colonies on Earth never had a chance. One group, however, did fascinate him. It was the ancient Japanese Samurai where they adopted even the smallest things as a discipline to master and perfect. It was something Sural approved of and, in many of his personal habits, was mindful of bringing in this Terran discipline. His father and he had several discussions over this; his father did not approve.

Shifting his focus to his ‘writing table’ Sural sat. It was a ‘guilty pleasure’ as his sister would say. Sural was part of a group who actually ‘wrote’ letters and mailed them. He found the discipline one that was mentally stimulating and engaged a part of his mental thoughts that dictation or holo letters did not do. In the latest ‘mail packet’ were three letters. One he knew included a move in his three dimensional chess game that was now two years old. Another was from his sister. The third, however, he was looking forward to reading. With almost ceremonial precision he slid the letters out from the slot in the table and set them before him.
- Sural