Lt. J. G. Silveira: A change.
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Bruno Abreu
Nov 14, 2021, 9:26:50 AM11/14/21
to USS Resolution – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG
OOC: I thought of doing this after Sil gets his sentence, but considering he is again traveling to familiar grounds (I wonder who thought about bringing back the Columbia for picking us up) it makes sense that he does it now.
Also here is his current playlist that served as background music:
IC:
((Risa, Maklau Resort Hotel, Silveira’s room))
Vitor was still a bit stuffed from all the Profiteroles and Camel Drool. He went for seconds after he finished his massive first bowl. Feeling like he gained about two kilos, he sat by the corner of the bed. Loosening up his belt he almost layed down, but he still wanted to do one last thing before moving out.
He was hoping to get some sleep as well. All the cooking had worn him down, and he needed to take care of the burn in his hand. He took a deep breath and stood up.
Taking off his Maklau Resort t-shirt he went to the PADD, resting on the room’s desk. He opened it and connected it to the Hotel’s mainframe. He started looking around the database, searching for more songs to add to the playlist Tito offered him. It was taking longer than he expected so he sat down and kept scrolling. He came across several he had in his old PADDs, now lost, but after almost an hour he rubbed his eyes and called it a day. Still he managed to triple the list and he took the PADD with him to the bathroom. He put it down, ready to start playing as he looked at what he needed for his task.
He found scissors and a small comb, but couldn’t find the rest. Back into the bedroom he signalled the Hotel for what he needed, put on his shirt as he waited for the room service, walking to the balcony. He raised his head to the night sky.
oO The Columbia… Well if we pass by Ops and visit the Juneau it’s a full circle, right?
And I am still going? What happened to the inquiry? What will happen next? Oo
His questions were only answered by the arrival of room service. He stepped back into the room and opened the door.
One of the Resort attendants gave him all that he requested, before bowing and making his way out. He closed the door and went back to the bathroom. He began to put down all they delivered, placing it around the sink in slow movements and in a specific order.
When that was done he took a step back, looking at the set up. He nodded and took off the shirt, tossing it out of the bathroom. He looked up to the mirror, leaning on the sink.
There were no gray hair, yet, but some of the expression wrinkles were starting to show. Especially around his eyes. And cheeks.
He smiled, making them clearly visible. It was as if he had spent his life smiling and laughing so far. In a way he did, he always had a joke loaded and ready to fire, a remark, a quip ready to come out at the worst timing. That needed to change.
He needed to change.
And here he would start.
He turned to start the PADD and let the music flood the bathroom. Setting it on a loop, it would keep playing until he stopped it. He went to the sink and washed his face, but didn’t dry it, letting the beard soaked in water that dripped down. He combed it, taking out the excess of water, but keeping it wet. He then raised the scissors.
The first song played as he began the laborious work of trimming his beard. He mentally sang along as he started down on the chin and slowly worked up. He combed and cut, with the years of experience easing the work. Besides the music only the snip, snip, snip sound of the scissors was heard. Finishing up his chin he went up, combing down the mustache. With more slow and careful work he worked around the nose as the second song started.
He carried on working each cheek, each patch of beard, diligently trimming it, still singing in his mind. He put down the “working tools” and looked at his work. Rubbing his hands on it, he turned his head, left and right. He flushed down the hair on the sink and washed his face again. By now the playlist was on it’s final song. This time he grabbed a towel to clean his face.
Going for the comb again he began the second sweep, this time cutting as short as he could with the scissors. The playlist finished and he put the scissors down, taking another look in the mirror. With a nod he passed his hands through his face.
Washing it again he picked up the shaving cream bottle, shook it and filled his hand with a good portion. He spread it around carefully, covering his face, trying to evenly distribute it.
He shook his head as the music played.
oO I walk alone, I walk alone. My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me… Oo
Taking the razor he raised it and began to shave himself. Chin first, from the neck up to the nose, left jaw upwards to the cheek, right jaw upwards to the cheek.
Clean steady strokes, taking the foam and whatever was left of his beard.
The snip, snip from before was replaced by the tapping of the razor on the half filled sink.
He was surprised he didn’t cut himself, wondering if it was his dormant skill, or just the quality of the razor. He worked on the upper lip, leaning forward and raising his nose with the free hand.
Slowly and carefully he finished there and looked at the mirror.
He frowned as he didn’t recognize the face looking back. He passed his hand, looking for any rough spot. He found one on his right jaw, and took the razor for another pass.
When all his face felt soft enough he washed it for the last time. Cleaning it up he went for the aftershave and poured it on his hands.
Bringing them up to his cheeks he narrowed his eyes when the burning sensation began.
He rubbed it quickly and wrinkled his forehead, as he let the burn and freshness hit his pores.
The scent of it was pleasant, and reminded him of some fresh herbal smell, like lavender or rosemary. Slowly it began to settle down, and he finally looked more attentively to his clean shaved face.
It could have been a stranger. If it wasn’t for the eyes and hair it wasn’t him. Last time he shaved he looked like a kid when he did it.
Now there was a man in front of him. One with a few wrinkles and looking like he was permanently grinning.
As he began cleaning up, the list was back to song number two. With a doubtful look to the mirror and himself he sang along the verses.
Silveira: Sei que o melhor de mim está por chegar. ((I know the best of me is yet to come))
OOC: And here is Sil’s new look, again thank you Ryan:
End Scene
Lt. J. G. Vitor S.Silveira
Tactical Officer
USS Resolution, NCC-78145
O238907VS0
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