Madame Zeyva Thoné - Not Lovin' it
Alyndra Syrex
((A Restaurant, Proxima Sigma))
Although the Ronin was noisy, smelled weird, and everyone ate literal recombined faeces that cosplayed as food, Zeyva had to give them credit for saving Proxima Sigma.
Although it was nested in the proverbial back of the proverbial salad drawer of the quadrant, its culinary scene was a local wonder. They had a particular dining challenge, the “ABC challenge as they called it” in which 26 alphabetized restaurants existed all over the planet, serving a cornerstone of the planet's food.
Restaurant A was the beginning of the road, the easiest palette to conquer. It had a coarse and horrifyingly ugly modernist aesthetic. “Fast Food” was the theme, and the easiest step may well be the hardest for some.
oO Oh, it shall be worth it for the cuisine of the Z Restaurant Oo
Zeyva gulped
oO If I live that long… Oo
After ordering on a… tablet, Zeyva took a greasy table service standee, a happy golden chicken giving a thumbs up…
oO Disgusting appropriation of the avian kind Oo
A kids birthday party seemed to be in progress a few tables over, but the stench, the noise… it took her back to when she’d had her own son… and given the disappointment he turned into, she didn’t find the memories refreshing.
Pruning her feathers in the sticky mess of drink that she’d accidentally discovered on her table, as strands of her silver dress pulled against her feathered arm. She gagged, but seeing a waiter approaching, her hopes rose, as she crossed her arms, trying to appear demure.
Om-Zora: ::in a bit of a monotone:: Zeyva Thoné. It appears they assumed something about us both being feathered. This isn’t ideal, but would you be opposed to… company?
Zeyva couldn’t tell if this was a joke, a man in a chicken suit trying
to cheer her up from her noticeable slouch. However, his tone seemed serious. Just
as the pop of confetti buzzed from the table near hers, a strand of coloured
paper landed in her feathers. She knew it couldn’t get much worse than this.
Thoné: Yes, no. Do what you like ::eye twitches::. This place rots with or without you.
Om-Zora: Logical, I suppose. Fine, I will do as you say, so long as I do not have to keep standing here, then. I am Om-Zora.
Zeyva frustratingly gestured to the small plastic chair on the other side of the table, certain the lack of her usual expected flair was visible. This ABC challenge had to be worth it, to reach the end, the gourmet experience… It was as challenging as Terra’s “hungry games”
Thoné: Madame Zeyva Thoné of Klowahka
Om-Zora: Response
Zeyva’s eye continued to flicker
Thoné: I don’t know how they stand it, restaurant A is supposed to be the easiest, most relaxing. This is hell.
Om-Zora: Response
Thoné: Are you a mascot?
Zeyva pointed at the greasy happy chicken table marker. As happy as the chicken smiled, the more annoyed she felt.
Thoné: Are you a chicken man? Because I assure you, this isn’t funny. You aren’t Klowahkan, so what are you? Where is your zipper?
Om-Zora: Response
TAG/TBC
Zeyva Thoné
Federation Representative for Culinary Affairs
Proprietor of the “Clean Hall” (USS Ronin (NCC-34523))
R240107AS3