Lt Vylaa zh'Tisav: Peace Offering
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Andrew B
Aug 30, 2024, 3:04:21 PM8/30/24
to Gorkon IC
((Vylaa’s Quarters, USS Gorkon))
Vylaa stared at the pot of simmering soup, right antenna cocked, then down at the empty bowl in her hands. A layer of soup residue, missed by the hunk of hari bread sent to mop up the remainders, rimmed the bowl. The zhen looked back at the pot As if knowing what she was thinking, her full stomach gurgled in protest.
When one of the local Andorians had shown her the survivors aquaculture facility, she had thought it might be nice to cook up some soup like they did back home. At least, the home she rememberd. And it had been delicious. Just… She’d made too much.
Way too much.
zh’Tisav: You sure you two don’t want any?
Tyvya continued to sleep contentedly where she lay napping. Alorr rose from her favorite spot by the viewport, sniffed the air, and then retreated to the bedchamber.
zh’Tisav: You don’t have to be such a snob about it…
Vylaa was loathe to throw it out. That would have meant wasting the food that had been kindly offered to her by the locals. The problem was she had made it like an Andorian likes it, with plenty of salt, meaning it wouldn’t be very palatable to most of the crew. And most of the Andorians on board were either in Sickbay or had gone to Nassau. In fact, the zhen could only think of one who might still be onboard…
zh’Tisav: Come on, are you sure you two don’t want the rest of this soup?
((Later))
Vylaa walked slowly, trying to delay arriving at her destination. She’d managed to avoid this meeting thus far, ever since Andoria. And yes, she knew it had to happen eventually, she’d just hoped it would be when she retired, and were it not for her unwillingness to waste homecooked food, she might have succeded at that.
She paused outside the door. Tyvya rested in one arm, while a thermos of soup sat in the opposite hand. And continued to pause. Two people passed in the corridor before the zhen could bring herself to press the back of the hand holding the thermos to the door chime.
The door opened quickly. A face from the past stood there, cool and calm, just like Vylaa remembered.
zh’Tisav: Hello, Jhana. You look well.
Kosathka: response
zh’Tisav: I made some Esh’esh. Turns out they built an aquaculture garden on the asteroid, it’s not Andorian fish, but… Anyway, I made too much, ::shifted Tyvya a bit:: and this one wouldn’t even try it, ::Holds up the thermos:: Would you like some? ::She tipped it from side to side:: Just like my Grandzhavey made.
Kosathka: response
Vylaa stared at the pot of simmering soup, right antenna cocked, then down at the empty bowl in her hands. A layer of soup residue, missed by the hunk of hari bread sent to mop up the remainders, rimmed the bowl. The zhen looked back at the pot As if knowing what she was thinking, her full stomach gurgled in protest.
When one of the local Andorians had shown her the survivors aquaculture facility, she had thought it might be nice to cook up some soup like they did back home. At least, the home she rememberd. And it had been delicious. Just… She’d made too much.
Way too much.
zh’Tisav: You sure you two don’t want any?
Tyvya continued to sleep contentedly where she lay napping. Alorr rose from her favorite spot by the viewport, sniffed the air, and then retreated to the bedchamber.
zh’Tisav: You don’t have to be such a snob about it…
Vylaa was loathe to throw it out. That would have meant wasting the food that had been kindly offered to her by the locals. The problem was she had made it like an Andorian likes it, with plenty of salt, meaning it wouldn’t be very palatable to most of the crew. And most of the Andorians on board were either in Sickbay or had gone to Nassau. In fact, the zhen could only think of one who might still be onboard…
zh’Tisav: Come on, are you sure you two don’t want the rest of this soup?
((Later))
Vylaa walked slowly, trying to delay arriving at her destination. She’d managed to avoid this meeting thus far, ever since Andoria. And yes, she knew it had to happen eventually, she’d just hoped it would be when she retired, and were it not for her unwillingness to waste homecooked food, she might have succeded at that.
She paused outside the door. Tyvya rested in one arm, while a thermos of soup sat in the opposite hand. And continued to pause. Two people passed in the corridor before the zhen could bring herself to press the back of the hand holding the thermos to the door chime.
The door opened quickly. A face from the past stood there, cool and calm, just like Vylaa remembered.
zh’Tisav: Hello, Jhana. You look well.
Kosathka: response
zh’Tisav: I made some Esh’esh. Turns out they built an aquaculture garden on the asteroid, it’s not Andorian fish, but… Anyway, I made too much, ::shifted Tyvya a bit:: and this one wouldn’t even try it, ::Holds up the thermos:: Would you like some? ::She tipped it from side to side:: Just like my Grandzhavey made.
Kosathka: response
Lt Vylaa zh'Tisav
Chief of Engineering
USS Gorkon
C238601TB0
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