Lieutenant JG Amelia Semara - I Baked Too Much

[Max]

(( OOC: Inspired by the recent Juliet post, I asked to open another entry in our "side chat" series. ))

(( Juliet’s Quarters, Room 142, Deck 14, USS Khitomer ))

(( Timecode: night before arriving at Alpha Trionus II, after all the current investigations ))

Reality had managed to stay at arms length for most of the day, thanks to a combination of the freshness of the discoveries, a lengthy workout, and keeping busy tearing apart the Ouachita.  As a result, Amelia miraculously kept it (mostly) together in front of (almost) everyone.  So far, Ras had been the major exception - for just a moment.

The work was a convenient way to keep everything, frankly, outside the walled palace of her centermost thoughts.  There, the problem of Tori - her daughter! - and everything she represented and everything she was here to do created one massive tent-slum of unresolved worry, want, doubt, debt, and a myriad of other overwhelmingly smelly, disease-ridden think-y feel-ys.

Maybe it was inevitable that it would all come crashing through the shoddy, battered gates to infest every corner of her thoughts as soon as the shift finally ended and Amelia found herself back in her quarters with the supposed purpose of getting some rest before they arrived.

There wasn't even the planned dinner with Alix to distract her.  In grand Starfleet fashion, her friend and neighbor had been whisked off who-knows-where for who-knows-what reason without even time for a how-do-you-do.  Not that she could or would blame the doctor.  That's how it went in the fleet.

It just meant that, without plans or company, her quarters became an insufferably quiet, lonely place.  Just her and her brain.  Richard was her other neighbor, but she could sense he had fallen asleep as quickly as he ever did.  Lucky.  In that moment, she honestly envied Connor and Ayemet and what might, understandably, be a tear-filled shouting match.  Anything was better than the near-silent drone of the ship and her own heartbeat in her ears.  She'd already worked her body to exhaustion after the conference, but now that it was all coming crowding back in there was only one thing to do.

Bake.

And bake some more.

It started as just a loaf of bread for something to do - something to keep her moving and liven up her space with smells of home.  It quickly devolved into an elaborate, messy, industrial-grade production too big for her quarters that left a mess everywhere and involved four different recipes in tandem, two of which were completely improvised...  She just kept going, going, going, until she realized there wasn't actually space to start a sixth baking project, let alone somewhere to put the end result.

Consciously, she knew it would be better to let herself finally stop and cry at that point or at least suck it up and go to sickbay and ask for something to help her sleep, but the emotional exhaustion and hordes of yelling thoughts made it nigh impossible to actually choose the rational thing.

Maybe there were messages to check!

Not an especially sane thing to try more work or write personal correspondences at this hour in this frame of mind, but if the universe had gone mad, wouldn't that give her permission to do the same?

There was, indeed, a message to read.  By the time she'd finished it and swallowed down the lump that formed in her throat, she was already packing up a pile of baked goods.

So it was that Amelia found herself in front of Juliet's door wearing lavender pajamas with cartoon octopus and primary shapes printed on it and a rather intimidating pile of food containers heaped in her arms.  She scarcely even registered what time it was - only that she was dimly empathically aware Juliet was still awake before pressing the chime.

When the door opened, a waft of air dragged a lock of blonde hair into her face.

It took three undignified puffs of air to get it to go away.  She was on a mission and didn't have the time or free hands for that nonsense.

Semara: Hey.  I baked too much.

Spoken as if that was all the explanation needed.  It took quite a while for her to process the emotion that came back at her, and the fact that she should probably blush or do something to convey her cultural embarrassment at forgetting Juliet couldn't empathically read her intent, but all she could do was giggle at just how manic she must have looked.

Banks: Response

Amelia looked down at the goods she was carrying as if she were a private eye trying to unravel the baking crimes she practically sleep-walked through.

Semara: Honestly, I ain't even sure what all this is.  I just started stress bakin', and next thing I knew I didn't have anywhere to even put it all.  :: Cracking open a container and sniffing. :: I think this one's some kinda Baklava...  Never made that before.  Not sure why I did.  :: Beat :: Though it just occurred to me, nuts and honey are exactly the kinda thing I'd prolly bake with if I couldn't get fresh fruit...

You know - like in a dystopian, war-torn future like the one Tori came from.  Was there some way a craving for it had seeped through when she'd made telepathic contact?  Stranger things had already transpired in their short, tempestuous acquaintance.

Amelia sucked in a bit of air to continue monologuing, but caught the glimmer in Juliet that told her to stop now.  She couldn't help a wince as she finally came to her senses a little bit (but only a little).

Semara: Sorry... I should'a checked 'fore comin' over.  I just... :: Words rushing :: I just didn't wanna be alone, and I saw your message...  :: Beat, slowing down :: But it's late.  I don't wanna bother you if you're tryin' to get some rest.  I'm sure someone in sickbay can help me get some sleep 'fore we reach Alpha Trionus.

They'd all need sleep to clear their heads before their destination brought them even more new revelations they'd need to deal with.

Banks: Response

Tag / TBC...

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Lieutenant Junior Grade Amelia Magnolia Semara

Science Officer - Special Projects

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0