Lieutenant Amelia Semara - Decoration Therapy

[Max]

(( Intelligence Suite, Deck 18 - USS Khitomer, Dry-docked at DS33 ))

The starship design bureau really had a way of letting Amelia know what they thought of her relatively new profession whenever they designed this class.  Nothing could quite make the point the same way as being stuck in the dangly-bit beneath the secondary hull, right below the deck exclusively set aside for antimatter and deuterium storage tanks.  On the bright side, the suite was quite a bit larger than her quarters.  Maybe she could requisition some hardwood flooring, plush rugs, and a pair of overstuffed couches to go in front of the oversized screens.  The small lab bench through a doorway was perfectly set up with all the hazmat hookups to install a functional kitchen and fireplace.  It had all the right dimensions.  With a little work, the suite could be turned into a delightfully warm and cozy little Nantahala-style cabin.

On second thought, having a bit of lab space was going to be useful so that rather struck out a rather important part of her imaginary follies, but she hadn't been entirely kidding when she told Ras she was thinking of turning the suite into a den.  Artful Betazoid minimalism would look a lot classier and cushier than Starfleet's usual color palette.  Besides... People talked in those mountain cabins.  Almost whether you wanted them to or not.  She'd heard enough tawdry gossip to make even a Vulcan blush on her many girls' ski stays.  Seemed the perfect vibe.

Then again, she also wasn't kidding about how painfully quiet it was down here, or how no one came to visit.  That was probably the real point of sticking the suite way down here - no prying eyes or ears - but it wasn't much consolation for anyone with even half of Amelia's energy.  With no one else's brain to ping off of, she bounced around inside her own skull instead.

Sprawled out lazily on the stiff standard-issue sofa (which really had to go) and staring across at a diagram on the enormous briefing screen, these were the things flitting through Amelia's mind.  Her blonde hair was loose and pooled under her head on the one pillow.  (Talk about cruel and unusual torture - who puts two couches in a room but only one pillow?  And where were the blankets for heaven's sake?)  She stared absentmindedly at the Golden Leaf of Semizad in her fingers, turning it over, feeling the thin edges of the hairpin, watching the screen's reflections in the honey-pink sapphire.

Her lips twisted.  The suite was fairly spacious.  Maybe this would be a good place to roll out a yoga mat.  Her own quarters were always a smidge too small for it, and it felt like a waste to go to the holodeck or the gym those times she only wanted ten minutes.  Could easily make the space here...

Good heavens, she had a problem.  Quite a few, really, but the principal one was that there were so many huge, intractable seeming questions and so many naughty Alliance commanders probing various fronts, murky lab practices in Starfleet Sencha research facilities, and evil scheming wardens, and goddesses she wanted to talk to Ras...

It was pathetic, really, pretending she could work under these conditions, but she did need something to distract herself until the man was off duty and she could finally pounce...  No!  Not like that.  Well, maybe a little...  No!  Talk.  Definitely talk.  No, not talk!  That was exactly the problem.  She didn't want to just talk (still not what you're thinking... mostly), and heavens why did it feel like she was fourteen instead of thirty-four?  One might think after she'd handled the Velithari captain, she'd have no problems with saying what she wanted from the person she liked best on this ship.

The more she thought... Honestly, at this point, she didn't even especially care if he said no any more.  She just had to know.

Right.  That was it.

Amelia stood up, pulled a piece of her hair back, and firmly planted the Golden Leaf of Semizad into its place amidst her golden locks, and dusted herself off.

Semara: Computer, call up the furniture and decorations database, section Betazoid contemporary, subsection Casperian colonial-modern, sort by color and material...  :: Beat, a sly smile. :: And let's see my requisition limits for holo-emitters, while you're at it.

May as well get busy with going to the only other place her brain was willing to go, for the time being...

(( Timeskip, some time later ))

With the help of DS33's replicator, a transporter, and a small anti-grav unit, the amount of redecorating a single, buzzy, mildly-obsessed Betazoid could achieve in just a couple hours was nothing short of transformative.  With some holographic help, the walls still mostly looked like giant, high-tech displays, but now they looked like giant high-tech displays mounted over full-height picture windows looking out into the wilderness.  Strictly speaking, the emitters were for enhanced tactical and strategic visualizations, but they worked.  And the sofas... Oh, the sofas!  The zen-like ratio of blanket-to-pillow-to-sofa-to-tea-table took some time to achieve, but it was well worth it.  As for the other touches...  Replicated though they may be, touches of wood shelving and side-tables here and there and accents of fabric softened everything until the room was something stylishly comfortable Amelia felt like she could melt into.  She even took just a corner of the lab area to dedicate to some snacks and tea for visitors.  Why not be optimistic about it?  Besides, a small little oven was plenty to put a pre-made pie or zaranza into.

However, the last touch turned out to be the pièce de résistance.  With all-new furniture absorbing what little sound came down from the secondary hull, it was painfully silent.  Her heartbeat was nearly audible.  Hence: the little water feature tucked into a corner.

Amelia wasn't sure how she never thought about it before, but it seemed like every important place back home was by a creek or river or some other moving water.  The temple to the four deities sat right on the banks of a turn in the Sasagar river.  A town council house did the same, only upstream.  Her own childhood home was almost built right on top of the path a stream dashed over.  The old manor was set further back from its tributary, but she could still remember hearing the babble of water under the noise of cheerful soirees on the lawn.  Somehow, a tiny little jumble of replicated rocks with water jumping down them was the thing that let her relax more than anything.  She could even smell the faint trace of ionized moisture starting to fill the dry room under the smell of butter and sugar and flour and cherries softening and caramelizing in the small oven.

With everything all neatly decorated, it was the perfect excuse to try her theory about being the perfect space for a good stretch.  When the door chimed, she was blissfully deep into a melty pancake-like fold.

Semara: :: Bearily :: Come in!

El'Heem: Response

Amelia slowly walked herself back upright, legs still spread into a wide V.  Seeing who it was, she swallowed.  Inexplicably, something about the whole scenario made her blush when she saw Ras.  Part of what a Human might call Betazoid Yoga was an entirely telepathic meditation, so Amelia hadn't been present enough in the moment to feel Ras there at the door.  That wasn't to say she wasn't happy to see him.  Despite herself, she grinned as she tucked her legs back together and under her.

Semara: I told you I was gonna redecorate.  :: Beckoning with a hand and a big smile. :: Well don't just stand there, take a seat.  Get comfy! Take your shoes off! We got lots to talk about.  What can I get ya?

It was entirely likely something of Ras' reaction was due to the fact she was barefoot and presently only wearing a smallish black top that didn't quite meet her black pants.  So she slipped on her black-shouldered tunic again.  The boots were staying off, however.  There was nothing better than a thick, fuzzy rug underfoot.

El'Heem: Response

Semara: Oh.

The single vowel carried more disappointment than she wished it would.  She'd all but forgotten the oversize analysis of the nebula's bio-chemical makeup on one huge screen and a scan of a hunk of Leviathan on another.  And there was a lot of work to talk about, too.  He was chief of his department.  And Amelia?  She was her entire department.

Semara: Right, yeah, that.

She turned to him after plucking the Golden Leaf of Semizad from the reading table where she left it to put it back into her hair.  Her lips slanted in one corner, wishing for a smile.

Semara: Alrighty, then.  :: A breath. ::  Let's start with what you've got on the Velithari and their tech.  'Tween the two a' us and Engineerin', we're gonna need to be makin' recommendations to the diplomatic corps that might shape what they can and can't share with 'em.

Hair pinned back, she kept moving to collect some refreshments.  If she kept moving, it was less painful.

El'Heem: Response

Tag / TBC...

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Lieutenant Amelia Magnolia Semara

Intelligence Officer

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0