Lt. Jg. Ryden Tarus Kel - Off to the opera!

[Ryden Kel]

((Ohmallera Memorial Park, Ohmallera District, Starbase 118))

Kel listened as Lyra spoke, the humor in her words brushing up against
something far more brittle beneath. He didn’t need telepathy to hear
the weight of expectation threaded through every sentence... only the
quiet familiarity of someone who had grown up measured against a
standard they hadn’t chosen.

Voss: ::trying to laugh:: ~Well it means I can never fit my full name
and title on any Federation forms - “Lyra Dehladora Voss, daughter of
the Sixteenth House, protector of the Mutable Eye and heir to the
staff of Arla” is way too many characters. ::a small, more vulnerable
sigh:: It mostly means that, to my mother and grandmother, I was never
doing the right thing. The Sixteenth House is the House of Eloquence,
and the Vosses are the senior line. My mother is an actress, my
grandmother is a playwright. They tried endlessly to craft me into an
elegant, charming performer, and instead they got an awkward scientist
who’s terrified at parties. And I’m a first daughter. I’m supposed to
be a Matriarch someday. I’m sure that fact must keep them up at
night…~

Kel: ~It sounds like you were born into a role before anyone bothered
to ask who you actually were.~ ::There was no judgment in his
tone...only recognition.:: ~Expectation can be heavier when it comes
wrapped in tradition and love at the same time. On Trill, lineage
matters… but it’s quieter. My father used to frame it through the
Olysaar symbiont... centuries of lives measuring themselves by what
they added to the world. What they built, repaired, made safer for the
next generation.~

He let a breath out, the admission carrying a familiar weight.

Kel: ~Living with that kind of history in the room meant “good” was
never really the goal. Fulfilled wasn’t either. He wanted me to be
exceptional...because anything less felt like wasting all those
lifetimes watching from behind his eyes.~


Voss: ~ I could give up the position… My name would be struck from the
family tree, but that’s mostly a legal formality - not a mandated
shunning or anything. But then it would all fall to Azi - she’s the
next oldest - and I just don’t know if I could do that to her. Though
Four know, she’d be so much better at it. I don’t know. ::a weak
laugh:: Most days, I try not to think about it. I mean, boo hoo, I
grew up in a sprawling historic manor with every possible luxury, oh
no. ::shaking her head:: Nobody should be shedding any tears for me.
I… I’ll figure it out. At some point. ::shuddering and shifting
topics:: But… what was it like growing up on Trill? I’ve never had the
chance to visit. ~

Kel felt the familiar instinct to minimize his own history rise... and
set it aside. If she was trusting him with this much, he owed her
honesty.

Kel: ~Trill is… layered.~ ::He searched for the right word.::
~Beautiful, but full of quiet pressure. I grew up there, but I was
always a little out of phase... half Betazoid in a culture that
reveres continuity and memory. My father’s joined. He carries the
Olysaar symbiont. He’s a civil engineer... brilliant, meticulous...
and he believes excellence is a kind of moral obligation.~ ::A faint,
rueful edge slipped in.:: ~When he was joined, it only intensified. He
wants me to be the best at whatever I choose. Not good. Not fulfilled.
The best. He means well… but it can feel like there’s no room to
simply be Trill—or Betazoid, or anything in between.~

Their path curved deeper through the park, the quiet giving him space
to breathe through the thought.

Voss: ~Did you know any other Betazoids? Besides your mother, of course. ~

Kel: ~A few. Mostly visitors, diplomats, traders passing through.~
::He shook his head slightly.::: ~Nothing like a community. My mother
kept parts of that culture alive at home... telepathic etiquette,
emotional openness... but Trill society never quite knew what to do
with that. And neither did I, for a long time.~

Voss: ~ It must have been strange for you and your brother. What does
he do now? Do they all still live on Trill?~

Kel: ~My brother, Jarek, stayed.~ ::There was no bitterness in it,
just fact.:: ~He fits there more easily than I ever did. He works in
planetary infrastructure... close to our father’s field. My parents
are still on Trill. I left because I needed space to figure out who I
was without centuries of expectation pressing down on me.~

He sensed the moment stretching, questions lining up behind her
silence, when the ambient light of the park subtly shifted. When her
next words came, they carried a spark of something lighter.

Voss: ~Hey, how do you feel about Klingon opera?~

Kel blinked once, then allowed a small smile to surface.

Kel: ~Honestly?~ ::He let the answer settle before finishing.:: ~Are
you inviting me because you want company… or because you think
exposure therapy might finally cure me of my fear of loud,
honor-driven vocalization?~

Voss: ?

Kel: ~I don’t dislike it. I just never learned how to listen to it
properly.~ ::A pause, then more honestly:: ~I think I’d appreciate it
more with someone who actually understands why people love it.~

The thought surprised him a little as it settled... how easily the
idea felt right. Not an obligation, not a performance, just an
experience shared.

Voss: ?

Kel: Out loud or telepathic, I don’t mind. Either way… I’d go. If you’re going.

He let that stand, neither pushing nor retreating, aware of the quiet
curiosity humming through his Betazoid half. Somewhere between Trill
reserve and inherited openness, it felt like a small step toward
something he’d spent most of his life skirting around.

Kel: Besides, it might be good for me to hear something that doesn’t
ask me to be the best version of myself...

Voss: ?


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Lieutenant JG Ryden Tarus Kel
Medical Officer
StarBase 118 Ops
O240109RK1