Incommunicado – Snooping
by Commander Rakka
Post Details
Rakka cautiously stepped into Petro's quarters as the door swished open. She mindlessly dropped her duffel bag and turned in a slow circle, surveying her surroundings. She had expected Petro's quarters to have changed along with her body, but they were just as spartan as they always were--almost as spartan as Rakka kept her own quarters. Still, it was as if every object called out Petro's name, mostly because her scent was on everything.
Rakka spotted a framed photo on top of a bureau and went for a closer look--to her surprise, it was a picture of herself with Petro--she didn't remember any such picture being taken! She realized Petro must have made a composite of two separate images. Looking around, she couldn't see any other pictures of friends. Rakka felt her heart swell with warmth as she set the picture frame back in its place. There were a few other objects on the bureau, and Rakka realized she recognized them all. There was a bundle of dried flowers--a souvenir she had given to Petro after an evening they had spent in the arboretum. Napkins with logos from restaurants they had been to together. She opened a small jewelry box and found the necklace she had given Petro when she had departed DS5--a clear jewel with a red rose shape in its centre. Her friend's sentimentality was very touching.
Rakka zipped open her duffel bag and the first object that popped out was an unremarkable pitcher. It was the one gift she had from Petro. She remembered her friend recognizing the trouble she had with normal drinking cups due to her fangs, and had come up with the ingenious idea of offering her a pitcher with a convenient spout, which proved much easier for the Nausicaan to drink from. She had used it ever since. For now she placed it on top of Petro's bureau alongside the other memories--it seemed to belong.
Feeling like a terrible voyeur, Rakka crept carefully into Petro's bedroom. She knew she probably shouldn't be here, but her curiosity was overwhelming. The room was not much different than the rest--sparse and plain. Rakka sat down on the bed. It felt odd to be near a bed as she never slept in one. She noticed a stray hair on Petro's rumpled pillow and delicately plucked it up between her large, clumsy fingers. So delicate.
Surely now she had gone way past the line of propriety--and sanity, no doubt. Rakka dropped the hair and rose to leave the room, but stopped before she had passed the closet where Petro kept her clothes. She thought of that red dress... that pretty red dress pretty Petro had been wearing the day Tahir had almost been assassinated and her own Ensign Riley had gone down instead. Did Petro still have it? She opened the closet and saw mostly uniform garb, but a flash of red caught her eye--yes, there it was. The Red Dress.
There was another garment separate from the rest, and at first Rakka mistook it for another uniform. Looking closer she realized it was a wetsuit--the same suit she had worn in the holodeck the day Rakka had tried to teach her to swim. Again Rakka was touched by her friend's sentimentality. Would Petro go swimming with her again? Would she wear this suit... or something new, more appropriate for her new body? Rakka had seen suits in stores that were little more than string and a few triangles of fabric. Looking at Petro wearing something like that would be impossible... like trying to stare into a supernova.
She stepped away sharply from the closet and left the bedroom. She flopped out on the couch, her long limbs hanging way over, and stared at the photo across the room. The Petro in the picture was the old Petro, the friend of her memories. Surely soon there would be photos of the newer, more feminine Petro with newer, prettier, better friends. Boyfriends, even. The silly trinkets of their past would be replaced by gifts from handsome admirers.
Rakka felt unaccustomed tears sting her eyes. Could there be a new Rakka? How many features could she have 'fixed'? The fangs and ridges could be tamed, perhaps. But only so much. And she couldn't have inches taken off of bones and muscles. A surgeon couldn't give her a new voice, a new personality. How could she possibly meet Petro's apparent standards of what a woman should be? She sniffled and groaned, crossing her arms over her face so she wouldn't have to look at the photo anymore. It was a picture of two fast friends who had bonded because they both felt like outsiders... like oddballs. But Rakka was still in that place while Petro had transcended it. It was only a matter of time before Petro realized that the world was falling in love with her and she didn't need to waste her time with the likes of Rakka.
OFF:
Cdr. Rakka... feeling sorry for herself
To be assigned
by Commander Rakka
Post Details
| Title | Snooping | |
| Mission | Incommunicado | |
| Author(s) | Commander Rakka | |
| Posted | Fri Jun 08, 2012 @ 7:43am | |
| Location | Petro's quarters |
Rakka spotted a framed photo on top of a bureau and went for a closer look--to her surprise, it was a picture of herself with Petro--she didn't remember any such picture being taken! She realized Petro must have made a composite of two separate images. Looking around, she couldn't see any other pictures of friends. Rakka felt her heart swell with warmth as she set the picture frame back in its place. There were a few other objects on the bureau, and Rakka realized she recognized them all. There was a bundle of dried flowers--a souvenir she had given to Petro after an evening they had spent in the arboretum. Napkins with logos from restaurants they had been to together. She opened a small jewelry box and found the necklace she had given Petro when she had departed DS5--a clear jewel with a red rose shape in its centre. Her friend's sentimentality was very touching.
Rakka zipped open her duffel bag and the first object that popped out was an unremarkable pitcher. It was the one gift she had from Petro. She remembered her friend recognizing the trouble she had with normal drinking cups due to her fangs, and had come up with the ingenious idea of offering her a pitcher with a convenient spout, which proved much easier for the Nausicaan to drink from. She had used it ever since. For now she placed it on top of Petro's bureau alongside the other memories--it seemed to belong.
Feeling like a terrible voyeur, Rakka crept carefully into Petro's bedroom. She knew she probably shouldn't be here, but her curiosity was overwhelming. The room was not much different than the rest--sparse and plain. Rakka sat down on the bed. It felt odd to be near a bed as she never slept in one. She noticed a stray hair on Petro's rumpled pillow and delicately plucked it up between her large, clumsy fingers. So delicate.
Surely now she had gone way past the line of propriety--and sanity, no doubt. Rakka dropped the hair and rose to leave the room, but stopped before she had passed the closet where Petro kept her clothes. She thought of that red dress... that pretty red dress pretty Petro had been wearing the day Tahir had almost been assassinated and her own Ensign Riley had gone down instead. Did Petro still have it? She opened the closet and saw mostly uniform garb, but a flash of red caught her eye--yes, there it was. The Red Dress.
There was another garment separate from the rest, and at first Rakka mistook it for another uniform. Looking closer she realized it was a wetsuit--the same suit she had worn in the holodeck the day Rakka had tried to teach her to swim. Again Rakka was touched by her friend's sentimentality. Would Petro go swimming with her again? Would she wear this suit... or something new, more appropriate for her new body? Rakka had seen suits in stores that were little more than string and a few triangles of fabric. Looking at Petro wearing something like that would be impossible... like trying to stare into a supernova.
She stepped away sharply from the closet and left the bedroom. She flopped out on the couch, her long limbs hanging way over, and stared at the photo across the room. The Petro in the picture was the old Petro, the friend of her memories. Surely soon there would be photos of the newer, more feminine Petro with newer, prettier, better friends. Boyfriends, even. The silly trinkets of their past would be replaced by gifts from handsome admirers.
Rakka felt unaccustomed tears sting her eyes. Could there be a new Rakka? How many features could she have 'fixed'? The fangs and ridges could be tamed, perhaps. But only so much. And she couldn't have inches taken off of bones and muscles. A surgeon couldn't give her a new voice, a new personality. How could she possibly meet Petro's apparent standards of what a woman should be? She sniffled and groaned, crossing her arms over her face so she wouldn't have to look at the photo anymore. It was a picture of two fast friends who had bonded because they both felt like outsiders... like oddballs. But Rakka was still in that place while Petro had transcended it. It was only a matter of time before Petro realized that the world was falling in love with her and she didn't need to waste her time with the likes of Rakka.
OFF:
Cdr. Rakka... feeling sorry for herself
To be assigned