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Your communit crackles to life and announces "Corian? Most certainly, of
course. What can I do for you?" in Clara's voice.
You say "I have a question--perhaps more than one, I believe. Would it be an
intrusion to ask that you meet me somewhere? I also may come to where you
are, if that is more convenient. And, of course, it may wait, if now is an
inconvenient time." into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and blares "*chuckle* Now is fine, actually. I was just doing some minor maintence on some equipment, and I'd love a break. I'm still on duty, but if my office would do?" in Clara's voice.
You say "Your office would do quite nicely, yes. If you could advise me of its location, I will join you there." into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and says "Oh, certainly...knew I was forgetting something. If you'll meet me in Medbay, we can head back down the hallway together. Medical Bay is the set of doors off the second floor lobby I came out of the night we went to the Fruvous with Riley." in Clara's voice.
You say "*A pause, just long enough to be noticeable* Medbay, of course. I remember its location. I will be there soon." into the communit.
[Travelspam deleted.]
You head towards the Medical Bay.
Medical Bay
Even the circulation of air can't quite keep the antiseptic smell from this
room. Immaculately clean, the tiles of the floor are the same pristine white
as the walls. Gadgets and gizmos abound. The highest medical technology
available for all the races that might conceivably come to the station are
present. A pair of beds near the door provide places for emergent cases,
their bioscan devices ready for monitoring. Doors lead to rooms for surgery,
short-term care, and long-term care. (OOC note: To set your room doing, try
'I'm <doing>'.)
Contents:
Corian, standing by the door.
Clara, standing by the door.
Obvious Exits:
Short Term Care Chief's Office Elevator Lounge
You arrive from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Clara pulls a micromagnifier headset off of, curls sproinging out cheerfully, and rises as she sets them on the desk by a half-disassembled instrument. Offering a warm smile, she gestures down the hall. "Good morning, again. My office is back thataway..." she offers easily, heading back that way.
Corian comes lightly into the room, absently adjusting the lines of her skirt
as she does so. Her smile is pleasant, though it seems a bit less so than
usual. "Good morning," she returns amiably, adding a graceful bow into the
bargain before she follows.
Clara walks towards the Chief Aleron's Office.
Clara has left.
You walk towards the Chief Aleron's Office.
Chief Aleron's Office
Bright and airy, this fair sized office is far from pretentious, but instead useful. A large wooden desk faces the doorway, a pair of pointillism paintings in soft pastels flanking either side of the wall behind it. A second desk adjoins to the first, branching back from one side, upon which a terminal and keyboard rest. A pair of fairly comfortable chairs face the desk for visitors, wooden with soothing sand colored upholstery. On one side of the door is a simple brass coatrack, and on the other a bit farther down the wall is a full sized synthetic human skeleton. Along the right hand wall, a low couch covered in brown velour looks frighteningly comfortable, graphic print depictions of Stilvani and Edreeni internal anatomy framed neatly above it. Across the room is a single bioscan bed, much like the ones outside, just as the easily cleaned white tile flooring is unchanged.
Contents:
Clara
Obvious exits:
Medical Bay
You walk here from the Medical Bay.
Clara gestures at both the couch and the chairs, a hint of puzzlement creeping
into her features. "Please, have a seat wherever you feel comfortable. May I
get you anything? Coffee? Soda? I have an automatic kettle for tea,
perhaps..."
Corian settles herself lightly into one of the chairs. "Tea would be
appreciated," she says, with a smile. "My thanks." Her gaze flicks around the
room, settling briefly on the Edreeni print, before she adds, "Any variety
would do."
Clara crosses to the small bookcase behind her desk to catch up said kettle, then disappears into a small side room, the sound of running water preceding her return as she clicks the kettle on to boil. "I have..." she fiddles for a moment, "Darjeeling, orange spice, and mint." She glances up with faint amusement. "The latter leftover from Honalee, bless her heart."
Corian takes a moment to ponder, as if the variety of tea she will be drinking is a crucial decision. "I would prefer the orange spice," she says finally, though her expression warms at the mention of Honalee. "Many thanks."
Clara inclines her head, turning back to tip different tea bags into two mugs, Darjeeling in one, orange spice in the other. Boiling waters is added to both. "She left a great number of delightful things, the tea being one. Your brother's penguins being another," she adds with a trace of humor, reaching over to pull a penguin from behind her monitor before sliding the fresh cup of tea across the desk and turning about with her own.
Water. Singular. No oceans or lakes here. ;)
Corian murmurs her thanks, slender fingers curving lightly around the mug. Your
humor is reflected in her eyes as she considers the penguin, then chuckles
quietly. "She mentioned them, last we spoke--my father, you see, sent with me
another penguin for Riley. I do hope that it will remain with him," she adds,
voice holding a glimmer of suppressed mirth. "Though I suppose my father
would be amused."
Clara tucks the penguin away, but not without an exceedingly fond look before nodding. "I've no intention to relieve him of the one from your father. It is lovely, certainly." She warms her hands about the mug, tilting her head. "But I doubt penguins were what you wanted to discuss?" she ventures.
Corian smiles brightly at the praise of her father's work, though that smile
fades perceptibly at your question, the expression finally leveling at what
could be termed polite pleasantry. "I... yes." She pauses a moment to collect
her thoughts. "Please forgive me; it has been some time since I have had such
a discussion. But when my brother and I spoke, not long after my arrival, he
mentioned a certain difficulty that he had, pertaining to sugars." Her tone
is not quite questioning, and her manner is somewhat more formal, as if that
formality is a veneer over something else.
"Take your time," Clara urges soothingly, offering a warm smile. "We're in no
hurry." She leans back in her chair, steepling her fingers in thought. "It's
not so much a problem as it is a requirement. It's the mixed Edreeni/human
genetics. There's a catalyst in the ribonucleic acid in that particular
species mix then enhances the processing of glucose through the bloodstream.
Essentially, it takes far -more- simple sugars to keep him going." Her
fingers lace as her head inclines gently. "And perhaps you as well?" she
suggests.
Corian does not lose her formal mode, listening quite courteously to the
explanation and nodding fractionally to acknowledge it. At the question,
however, she falters for a moment. "I am unsure," she admits finally. "My
lifestyle is not so... rigorous as that of my brother. And," she adds, humor
coloring her tone briefly, "I have learned to sleep when I am tired, which
seems to be a lesson that still eludes him."
Clara can't help but smile, echoing amusement answering in her own expression.
"Isn't that the truth? Ask him about the time I sedated him without his
permission," she suggests with a rueful grin. "It was...an adventure. Still,"
she says, tone changing to one of comfort again. "I can certainly offer my
services as physician and researcher to discern whether you have the same
needs, although a few chocolate bars a day seems to keep Riley going fairly
well. In -addition- to real food," she adds, tone implying just how much fun
getting that to happen is.
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Corian's silvery-blonde brows arch fractionally at the talk of sedation, but
she says only, "I cannot help but think, knowing my brother as I do, that
such action was necessary." She pauses for a few moments, then, though a her
expression hints briefly at distaste at the mention of chocolate; it
smooths once more into politeness and faint amusement at your final
statement. "To discern whether I have this need," she says slowly, "What
would this entail?"
"A simple blood and tissue sample," Clara replies immediately, adding, "Utterly
painless aside from the annoying little hiss that all hypos make. I'd then
use the sample to do a genetic scan like I did for Riley to discover whether
or not you had the catalyst, and if it worked in a similar manner." She
hesitates, then notes after a sip of her cooled tea, "It wouldn't have to be
chocolate, though. Anything high in simple sugars would do. A daily hypo of
glucose would work, even."
Corian nods thoughtfully, one finger drumming briefly on her tea mug before she
notices the movement and stills it. She doesn't speak for a moment, as if
organizing her thoughts--or prioritizing her questions. She murmurs a quiet
phrase in Edrilac, before nodding and offering a smile. "I would be most
appreciative if this could be done, yes. And it relieves me to hear that
there are other alternatives to chocolate, should something like that prove
necessary." Apparently she's not a fan of chocolate, though her player
cringes at the very thought.
Clara for some reason smiles faintly, a good natured note of humor in her
expression as she opens a desk drawer and rummages towards the back.
"Actually, this reminds me of a question I'd like to ask you, if I may." She
extracts a small medical kit from the drawer finally and clicks it open to
withdraw an innocuous looking hypo.
Corian's gaze flicks briefly to the hypo, but she smiles nonetheless. "Of course, please. I would be glad to answer your question as best I may."
Clara holds the hypo up to the light for a moment, then nods before folding her
hands about it somewhat sheepishly. "It...well, I'm not much of a linguist. I
know enough in the major languages to discuss a patient's medical status, and
I speak Standard and a dialect of French fluently. But...I'd like to learn
Edrilac."
Corian brightens perceptibly at your words. "I have texts which you may borrow,
of course, though I must say that many of the nuances of the language are
best explained by a person." She inquires thoughtfully, after a brief pause,
"You would like to do this for Riley... yes?"
Clara nods slowly, smiling at her cup for a moment with absent fondness that indicates her thoughts are wandering before she tilts her head wistfully. "We've had several rather long and...difficult...conversations lately, -made- difficult by my lack of understanding, and the lack of Standard translations for certain words and concepts. I would be most appreciative if I could at least borrow your texts. The rest I can work on...well, somehow."
Corian shakes her head fractionally, though her smile is warm and approving.
"If the concepts are what I believe they are, then it is perhaps not Edrilac
you would like to learn, but the variant of it--a combination of Edrilac and
Standard--which is spoken on Kashid. It is on Kashid, you see, that the Code
is followed. It is not a decision which I am to make for you, of course, but
one to be made in the fullness of knowledge."
Clara manages to blush at this, a surprising reaction perhaps for a doctor, but
not for her, although her smile widens slightly. "I think that might be best,
yes. We discussed your Code as much as we could, making comparisons where
possible to my own belief system parallels and differs. Still, it just seems
it would be easier to understand if I had the vocabulary and cultural
references." She clears her throat, looking both delighted and abashed all at
once. "Ah...perhaps I could get that sample now? Let it percolate in the
computer, at least."
Corian takes a moment to answer your statements first. "The Code can be quite
complex," she says seriously, "Even for one accustomed to it by circumstances
of birth and rearing. You are correct in thinking that understanding would be
aided by a knowledge of our dialect, though I must warn that it is a
difficult language to learn. There are, however, alternatives that may be
considered." Expression thoughtful, she nods. "There are inquiries I may
make, if you wish, on ways to facilitate learning." Then, finally, she
acknowledges your question with a nod and a murmured, "If you wish, of
course."
Clara rises from her chair and circles the desk, automatically assuring, "This
won't hurt a bit," as she draws in close. "Simply hold still for just a
moment..." Taking the sample in silence, she then leans against her desk for
a moment, eyes on a small penguin perched in the coatrack. "I have a lifetime
to learn," she says after a moment of thought. "And difficulty is no
deterrent in this situation." She looks down with hopeful gratitude. "But any
help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. This is, I think, terribly
important for me to learn."
Dangling from the coatrack, Purloined Penguin waggles a wing. It likes it when
people look at him.
Corian, naturally, holds still when prompted to do so, absently straightening
her sweater once the sample has been taken. "It is," she agrees softly,
"quite important, for a full understanding of my brother. I will do what I
can to assist." She pauses for a moment, then ventures, "Perhaps Riley has
not spoken of it to you, as it was quite late when I asked him, but I would
be honored if the two of you would join me for dinner some evening--at your
convenience, of course. My schedule is, I believe, somewhat more flexible
than either yours or Riley's."
Clara pushes away from her desk and crosses to a wall computer above the
bioscan unit, feeding in the sample. "He hasn't, no, but then I'm afraid I
haven't been precisely coherent lately. Unlike certain security chief's with
a modicum of sense, I didn't give myself an influenza vaccine this year, and
it caught up with me." She turns back with a grin. "I'd be honored,
certainly. If you can pin Riley down on a time, I'll be sure to clear my
schedule that night as well."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Corian's grimace is decidedly sympathetic. "Vaccinations are important," she
observes softly, "But, then, I suppose you have had an object lesson. I will
speak with Riley, and I am sure, between the three of us, that we will be
able to find a suitable time."
"Oh, yes. A very insightful lesson, at that," Clara assures with a quiet laugh,
turning back to scan the code now starting to sroll up the wall monitor.
"There's certainly a familial relationship here with Riley, I can say that,"
she notes affably. "Still..." She traces a finger down from the genetic code
on to a list of chemical compounds. "Are you a vegetarian, Corian? Your
protein levels are almost all botanically based."
Corian's lips curve in a quick, amused smile at the confirmation of the relationship. At the question, though, she nods. "I am, yes--I have been so for... eight years, perhaps? An approximation, but it will suffice."
Clara glances over her shoulder, brows lifting in surprise. "An early decision,
then. Still, it's not impaired your overall health," she comments
thoughtfully, returning to examining the results. "Remarkably low levels of
vitamin D, even for one with Edreeni ancestry. Not harmful, but you might
consider spending fifteen minutes or so outside a few times a week. Something
to watch."
Corian chuckles very quietly at the reply. "Yes, I suppose it was an early decision--one made in self-defense." She dismisses that topic with a brief gesture of one hand, adding, "Vitamin D--yes, of course, I will endeavor to do as you suggest. I assume," she adds, a hint of humor in her gray eyes, "That I should attempt to do this while the sun is still out?"
Clara clicks a side panel on the bioscan open to pull out a stylus, a somewhat puzzled look of speculation crossing her features at the mention of self-defense, but allows it to drop as well in an easy laugh, nodding. "That's usually the best time to get some sunlight, yes. It's just so terribly scarce at night. Medical bays on ships usually carry special lights for this purpose on ships, just as a reference for when you're travelling."
Corian's nod is agreeable enough. "It is my hope, though, that it will be some time before I travel again." There's a hint of something not-quite-right about her for a moment, but she dismisses it with a shake of the head. "I will remember, though, for my next journey. Many thanks."
Clara taps at the screen, and a printer behind her desk begins to silently feed
out sheets of paper. She returns to her seat and folds her hands with a
particularly undertanding expression. "Corian...if you ever need to talk to
someone, please consider me? Even on a professional level as a licensed
counselor, or simply as your brother's companion. I say this only because it
seems as if something troubles you."
Corian's smile reasserts itself, with a hint of formality tossed in for good
measure. "I appreciate the kindness of your offer. It is true that there have
been some recent... uncertanties, but I feel that all will be well in due
time. I will remember, though, for future need."
Clara spreads her hand and inclines her head in a gesture of acceptance. "Of
course. I don't intend intrusion, but merely an offering of services. Still,"
she adds, grin reasserting itself, "everything usually does resolve itself
satisfactorily in time." She pulls th eprintouts off the printer and scans
them. "And there's the catalyst," she murmurs. "You do have that same
requirement, it seems. I can compile a list of non-chocolate dietary
suggestions, if you like?"
Corian nods at that, with a quick smile. "I would appreciate that very much,
yes, if it wouldn't be a bother."
Clara grins and taps up a list on her terminal, selecting several items with the stylus. "A bother? To make a list of confections that'll put me over weight regs just -reading- it? Never. Now...do you like butterscotch?"
Corian considers for a moment. "I do not -dislike- it," she says finally, "As I do chocolate. I am, perhaps, ambivalent." Expression vaguely apologetic, she adds, "I am afraid I do not have much of a taste for sweets."
Clara lifts a hand in understanding, erasing a few of the choices from the
screen. "Actually, aside from orange soda, neither am I. Although chocolate
chip toffee cookies will always be a weakness. Still, I'd rather see you get
the glucose through ingestion than injection, simply due to the calorie
difference. Let's see...hmm. Here we are, fatimaners would work. And
divinity, too. Wouldn't take much, either."
Corian inquires, "Fatimaners? I am unfamiliar with that. Divinity, on the other
hand..." She chuckles very quietly. "Riley brought some, when we spoke the
other day. It seemed quite sufficient."
Clara starts to explain, then cuts off, looking puzzled. After a moment of thought, she tries again. "Fatimaners are a Scandinavian confection, extremely high in both sugar and calorie content, but not terribly sweet. They taste like...have you ever had chai? They taste like that."
Corian looks decidedly confused for a moment, then ahs quietly. "Chai--the tea
with the spices and honey, yes? Not straight tea. I think that would suit
nicely, yes."
Clara looks relieved, and taps a command into the computer that causes the
printer to cough up one last sheet that she hands over. "There's a list of
various items that would suit. I know the fatimaners can be found at
Johensen's down in the Java Quarter. Not to mention Mr. Johensen is a
wonderful old man."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Corian scans the list, then murmurs her thanks. "Perhaps," she says
thoughtfully, "I shall walk down there later this afternoon--in that manner,
I can achieve two goals at once. The sun cannot be set already, after all,"
she adds, with a quick smile.
Clara glances at her comm briefly, brows lifting in surprise. "No indeed, it hasn't. Not for several hours, in fact. Although I may end up heading outside myself for a bit if my head nurse tosses me out the door as I expect him to in an hour or so. The vote should be getting underway eventually, too." She glances up with interest. "Your services aren't required for such, I assume?"
Corian shakes her head. "They aren't, no--though I'm sure I will be able to
find something to keep myself busy." She makes a graceful gesture towards the
door. "But am I keeping you from work?"
Clara brings up a calender on her computer and surveys it for a moment. "Actually, no," she replies. "Jones is handling appointments today, leaving me on emergency call...directly related to what's going on downstairs. They want the CMO on call whenever they meet for some odd reason. But please, don't let me keep you if you've business to attend to."
Corian shakes her head, with a quick smile. "Now that I have caught up on the
backlog of translations that needed to be completed, much of my time is
flexible. I did promise to visit with Ximena," she adds, naming one of the
wives of the Sectassian ambassador, "But that was not until later this
afternoon."
Clara unsuccessfully attempt to stifle a visible wince, a smile held in place
by will power at the name, although she does look rather abashed at her
reaction. "Ah, yes. Lovely woman. All of the ambassador's wives are. And
so...-many- children."
Corian's lips quirk fractionally. "I worked closely with Ximena's father when I
was on Sectas," she murmurs. "Unfortunately, my stay had to be cut short.
She's a sweet woman, though, and her children provide... such excitement,
when they come to visit their father." She shakes her head fractionally,
perhaps not approving of that particular practise.
"I had the..." Clara searches for a word for a moment before lighting on, "honor of accompanying the entire family on a recent lunar field trip. It was most definitely one of the more interesting adventures in my life."
Corian's brows lift very slowly. "Oh, dear," she says, expression somewhere
between horror and amusement. "You have my... utmost sympathies. Those
children are several handsful."
Clara leans her elbows on her desk, chin in her hands with an almost juvenile
expression of dismay. "And themsome. I'm not my best on shuttles anyway, and
to have three little ones at a time all trying to sit on my lap didn't help.
You've traveled extensively, then? Sectass isn't the most common world to
casually visit."
Corian's tone holds just a touch of amusement, and sounds like she's
understating. "I have traveled extensively, yes--I went where there was
employment." After a brief pause, she clarifies, "I received a fellowship
after I concluded my tertiary education, and then there was a need for a
translator. What with one thing and another, ten years passed." She
apparently believes in the "good parts" version.
Clara grins wryly at this, rather looking as this sort of explanation makes
sense to her. "I think I can understand this. Ten years ago, I had just
joined the Fleet. I would have judged you as being far less than ten years
from your tertiary studies, given your appearance, though. Riley mentioned
that you are younger than he is..."
Corian nods at that, with a quick smile. "I am younger than Riley, yes. I will
be thirty-two in a few months." With a graceful gesture that holds both
amusement and a hint of deprecation, she adds, "You are not the first to
think me younger. But you, at least, seem willing to accept my words." Her
humor takes on a hint of wryness, as if this has not been the case in the
past.
Clara shakes her head with a rueful chuckles. "People persist in believing their eyes rather than what is. Although I'll have to admit I'm a xenobiologist. Edreeni longevity is no foreign topic. I might have to be jealous that most folk would think I'm significantly older than you are, though," she adds with a joking wink. "Tell you what...while the Council buries itself in votes, why don't I show you where that bakery is?"
Corian nods at that, with a pleased smile. "That would be wonderful, if it
wouldn't be any trouble. I have not had much opportunity to investigate the
Java Quarter--just a few outings."
Clara rises from her chair after leaning back to click off the kettle, then
crosses to a shelf to pull down a field medkit and strap it to her leg. "In
case I'm hollered at," she explains. "Shall we?" she offers, gesturing at the
door.
Corian gets gracefully to her feet, absently straightening her skirt as she
does so. "Lets do so," she agrees, with a smile, and a brief nod at the
explanation for the medkit.
[Travelspam deleted.]
You head towards the Java Quarter.
Java Quarter
In the very heart of the Java Quarter stands a massive granite fountain. Change
glints in the basin, and a whimsically carved dragon basks amongst the
pouring flows of water. A small faded plaque indicates it's a memorial of
some kind. Around the fountain square lurk squat little buildings, each
painted in a riot of colors and bedecked with curling wrought iron trim. Many
years ago these were fine houses for people from outlying steadings coming to
visit the capitol. Now they have been re-made into artist's studios, odd
little stores, java shops, and bars.
The streets in this quarter are all of cobblestone, and earthenware pots are
scattered at every corner. In these pots are planted quirky little topiary
bushes. The streetlights are made to mimic old gas lantern-lights, and the
street signs are of battered driftwood. A great deal of care has been taken
to keep the flavor and charm of this district without sacrificing modern
amenities. Small darkened 'alleys' lead off the narrow streets and between
the cramped buildings. Dingy and with a flavor of great age to them, they're
probably not the best place for tourists to go.
Contents:
Clara
Obvious exits:
Zimmies Bar and Grill Pavilion
You arrive from the Massive Open Air Pavilion.
Clara strolls down the sidewalk and gestures at various shops and vendors. "Of course, there's the Fruvous where we went the other night. That bookstore there is simply splendid for both new selections and that wonderfully campy older stuff. And that over-...good heavens. Um. And over -there- is a music store," she adds, rapidly pointing in another direction.
Corian, naturally, glances in the direction in which Clara wasn't pointing. "Fascinating," she murmurs, Spocklike. "Not quite art, but I'm sure they're quite a... draw, for customers." She chuckles quietly, and nods. "Of course, a music store. Do they have much variety, with the diplomats here?"
Clara blushes significantly, shrugging. "I'm sure everyone has their own tastes in...oh. Oh, yes! Instruments," she replies with relief, angling towards the shop's window. "Oh, certainly. There's a wealth of Terran instruments, but there's some from Tau Alpha, and that woodwind is Ghekellian."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Corian's brows lift in apparent recognition as she nods. "Yes--and it is in marvelous condition." She shifts to get a better look at the instrument, then nods thoughtfully. "Lovely, especially if it sounds as it looks."
Clara eyes a keyboarded percussion instrument, vaguely visible farther on in
the shop through the window, then glances sidelong in curiosity. "Are you a
musician also, perhaps?"
Corian's smile is quick, though her attention is more on the window and its
contents. "I enjoy music, certainly," she replies obliquely. "I have picked
up a bit over the years, though not, I believe, enough to term myself a
musician."
"I'm no more than an amatuer myself," Clara assures, straightening and craning
her head to peer down the street. "Aaah, there's Mr. Johensen's shop." She
glances back with a sudden grin. "Can you smell it from here? Quite possibly
the most comforting scent in all of Copper Hill."
Corian's head turns in the indicated direction, and she inhales lightly. She
starts to shake her head. "Not... no, wait, I do." A smile crosses her face
as she adds, "I fear that this store will cause quite a danger, if it tastes
as good as it smells."
Clara laughs easily, heading in that direction as she slips her hands in her
coat pockets. "Oh, it's terribly dangerous, I promise. Not that you'll have a
thing to fear, but if I'm not careful, I'll end up looking like my
great-grandmother."
Corian blinks as she moves to follow, but her nod is reasonably agreeable. "I
trust in your judgement to know how much is enough, and how much would go
beyond moderation." She glances in the windows as various shops are passed,
apparently taking note for later visits.
In the sky, The clouds begin to move away, revealing the bright sun.
Clara waves her hand at one shop as it passes...well, sits still as it's passed
really, and notes, "Excellent sporting goods store. Riley mentioned that
Kashid is rather mostly city, so you might want to take advantage of the
outdoors here on Linnae. Absolutely splendid."
Corian pauses a moment to peer skywards. "Ah, look. The sun graces us with her presence, so this trip is still more worthwhile." She smiles, then and nods. "Perhaps. Though Riley is somewhat more inclined to such actions than I am."
Clara lifts her face as well, delighted as the sunbeams make their way onstage. "I hear he is...we've yet to manage a vacation that isn't medical leave, though. Soon, I hope. Aaand...here is Johensen's," she announces, pushing open the door that causes a bell to ring overhead. (re)
Corian tsks quietly. "Soon, yes. Perhaps if he--" But whatever he is going to do is cut off by the aromas from the bakery. Corian pauses a moment to inhale--yes, folks, she inhales--then moves fully into the shop. "I believe I shall have to return here," she murmurs. "Frequently."
Clara glances back with a faint smile and calls over a greeting in fairly
mangled Norwegian to the shopkeeper, who returns with with a wrinkly grin and
far more precision. "I'm afraid that's about the only thing I can say in his
language, but this is one of my favorite places. He and his daughter make
everything here daily."
Corian offers a smile to the shopkeeper, but doesn't venture a verbal greeting.
"I can certainly understand why this is a favored place, yes." She moves
closer to the displayed pastries and other sweets. "The smells alone...
goodness."
Clara moves towards a tray of diamond shaped cookies slit in the middle and
folded in on themselves to form a sort of bow shape, tapping the glass before
them. "These are fatimaners. Normal baking ingredients, with cinammon, sugar,
and cardamom. I think. I'm a terrible cook, so I'm not sure," she admits
sheepishly.
Corian nods thoughtfully as she moves to investigate the cookies. "I'm not much of a cook, myself," she reassures. "But it does sound wonderful."
Clara grins in return, then straightens and heads to the counter, offering the elderly man a wink as she leans against it and rattles off her order in oddly accented French. This causes him to roll his eyes and snort, but off he goes to drop strawberry and cream cheese filled croissants into a bag. "I do that just because my accent drives him mad," she stagewhispers back, amused.
Corian laughs quietly at that, waiting to place her own order. "It is an interesting one," she says thoughtfully. "The accent, I mean. Forgive me if I have forgotten, but where did you live when you were younger?"
Clara accepts the resultant bag and offers a spate of thanks in the same manner as her order, handing over the correct amount of giros and standing away. "Earth, actually. To be more specific, a small island called Jamaica."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Corian inclines her head, manner suggesting recognition. "I was not able to visit there, during my stay on Earth. Perhaps in a later visit," she muses. "The accent is quite lovely, by the way." She flickers a quick smile, then turns to place her own order: some of the fatimaners, of course, and some excessively sugary cookies. "For Ximena's children," she adds, with a smile of utter innocence. "They do so enjoy these cookies."
"Thank you," Clara replies, ducking her head slightly at the compliment to
inspect her bag. "Oddly enough, it only comes out when I speak French. My
natural accent in Standard is rather far off." At the explanation she nods
solemnly, eyes dancing with mirth. "Oh, of course. The fact that they can't
raise the roof while eating is a lovely side benefit, though...had you
thought of that?"
Corian murmurs her thanks as she takes the sweets, counting out the proper
number of giros, then turns back to Clara. "Why... goodness, I do believe
you're right." One hand is lifted to her cheek in a feigned gesture of
surprise. "How fortunate for me." She laughs softly, adding, "Between these
and a story, I think I will be fine."
Clara echoes the laugh with delight, heading back towards the door. "I've no doubt you will be, most certainly. Shall we go enjoy a bit more of the afternoon? If the Council moves as slowly as we were taught they do in the Academy, they'll still be at the vote, and all will be quiet."
Corian follows amiably enough, with a nod. "That sounds lovely, yes. And it
will be interesting to see how the vote ends," she adds thoughtfully. "There
was some speculation before it all started."
"Oh?" Clara asks, stepping out into the sunlight. "Any particularly clear forerunners, then? I try very, very hard to keep Medbay as apolitical as possible, so I'm afraid I fall from the loop occasionally."
Corian shakes her head, blinking a few times as she gets used to the change in
light. "I cannot say how much faith to put in what I heard," she says
thoughtfully, "As there were several names mentioned, and there seemed to be
little consensus. I suppose we will have to wait and see how the vote
concludes."
Clara regards the distant Complex thoughtfully, rubbing at the back of her neck with one hand as she walks. "Which is much what Riley got from the situation too...or what he could tell me at least," she adds reasonably. "I do hope it clears up some of the messes we've run into recently."
Corian nods her agreement to that. "One can hope that is the case," she
murmurs, following Clara's gaze towards the Complex. With a glance to her
watch, she adds, "I am afraid I should head back, though, if I am to return
to my quarters before visiting Ximena. This clothing, unfortunately, is not
quite up to the attentions of the children."
Clara lifts a hand, nodding in understanding. "I sympathize entirely. I myself
wore fatigues when accompanying the little darlings. And if nothing
else...you have cookies!" she reminds, obviously thrilled with that idea as
she heads back towards the pavilion.
Corian murmurs something about the wisdom of the occasional bribe, especially
where children are concerned. With an amused shake of her head, she heads
pavilion-wards as well.
[Travelspam deleted.]
You head towards the Central Atrium.
Central Atrium
Filled with greenery and assorted plants from a hundred different Alliance worlds, this massive atrium is a chaotic and interesting place. The room itself is round, with evenly-spaced archways leading to the other areas. Each archway is color-coded, with a label telling where it leads in standard and the languages of each of the major races. For those who pause to look upwards, the escheresque upper levels of the complex may be seen, as the atrium reaches through the entire complex, with a plasglass skylight at the top through which Linnae's sunlight may filter. Paths wend their way through the carefully tended gardens, and small placards label the groups of vegetation and their homeworld. Some are labeled with the universal symbol for danger, be careful, they bite. Groups of benches are located here and there for the comfort of passing delegates and those attempting to lobby them.
The elevator is at floor number 1 (the doors are closed) and appears to contain
no people.
Contents:
Riley
Obvious exits:
Elevator Diplomatic Hall Arch Out Rec Hall Dining Meeting Hall Spaceport
You arrive from the Massive Open Air Pavilion.
Clara arrives from the Massive Open Air Pavilion.
Clara has arrived.
Riley is currently engaged in a low voiced conversation with the SecOff on duty
outside the Grand Hall. He's wearing his evil dress uniform, and looks even
less thrilled than that would normally entail.
Roland arrives from the Spaceport.
Roland has arrived.
Briga arrives from the Spaceport.
Briga has arrived.
Corian's brows arch at Riley's attire, but she refrains from making any snide
comments as she sees his manner. "Perhaps we misjudged how long it would
take," she murmurs to Clara.
Clara pauses, rather unable to miss someone Riley's size in that getup in the
crowd and lowers her voice as she leans into Corian. "I think you might be
right," she agrees with a note of concern."
Riley ends up heading back into the Grand Hall after an all but snarled comment in response to a diplomat's aside. Oh yeah, he's -thrilled-.
Riley heads towards the Grand Hall.
Riley has left.
Tara arrives from the Spaceport.
Tara has arrived.
Roland meanders his way nonchalant out of the space port, with a bit of a limp.
He heads over towards the elevator, ignoring anything diplomatic involved.
He's gotten pretty good at that, usually.
Tail twitches as Bri sees Riley..he is after all hard to miss. She proves the
adage curousity killed the Zaeltan as she starts to pad towards the grand
hall.
Corian shakes her head fractionally as Riley heads into the Hall, though she,
as she's not got a Zaeltan's curiosity, doesn't move to follow. Instead, she
shifts towards the diplomatic hall, and the people milling in that general
area.
Clara lifts her brows considerably, watching the over-uniformed Chief head back
in confusion. "Or perhaps it isn't," she adds with a slight shrug, nodding a
farewell as Corian heads off, she herself moving towards the elevators and
presumably Medbay.
A communit make a light sound and Bri looks at it in irritation before speaking
into it in the soft tones that characterize Zaeltan. She looks genuinely torn
as she glances between the elevator and the grand hall...then ear tufts droop
as she head towards the Zaeltan embassy.
Briga walks towards the Richly Appointed Hallway.
Briga has left.
Roland starts to reach out to press the button then a sharp pain reminds him that his arm's broken, so he tries the other arm. Hey, that works. But does
that mean he's gotta be a lefty from now on? Lefty's are weird folks.
Corian blinks at the fragments of news overheard from various diplomats, and
shoots a sudden look towards the grand hall, expression rather grave. "That
would explain that," she murmurs cryptically.
Clara unfortunately hears nothing of the snippits of news, zeroing in quite
neatly on Roland as she draws closer to the elevator, brows furrowing.
"You've gone and damaged yourself, DeMario," she comments quietly. "Come on
up to Medbay and let me patch you up?"
Roland nods his head absently. "I had help, believe me Doc Aleron," he replies
then grins. "So who's died?"
Roland pushes the button.
From the elevator, With a ping, the doors slide smoothly open.
Clara walks into the elevator.
Clara has left.
From the elevator, Clara has arrived.
Roland walks into the elevator.
Roland has left.
From the elevator, Roland has arrived.
From the elevator, Clara pushes the button marked 2.
From the elevator, Clara shakes her head wryly with a hint of dismay. "No one,
I sincerely hope. The Council's voting on a new Chairperson though," she
explains somewhat grimly. "What happened to you?"
From the elevator, The elevator direction light changes to UP with a ping.
From the elevator, The doors slide shut, soundlessly.
The elevator moves upward.
Corian, with a shake of her head and a murmur about Sectassians and timing,
moves to the elevator as well.