Ensign T’Fearne - How Are You Chloro-Feeling?
Teayl Thorn
((Counsellor's Office - Sickbay Complex - Deck 10 - USS Ronin))
At Winslett's beckon, she stepped into the room. The counsellor's office was expectedly cosy, with warm lighting, a faint aroma of something fruity, sweet and herbal that she couldn’t quite identify tickled her nose, and the furniture seemed designed for conversation rather than formality. It reflected moments of her childhood that put her slightly off balance at the memories.
She perched gingerly on the edge of the couch, back straight, facing the man.
T’Fearne: Part of my duties occasionally involves updating crew security certifications. Since you're newly assigned to the Ronin, your file's been flagged for recertification. If you have a few minutes, I’d like to conduct your interview and update your file.
Winslett: ::crossing his right leg over his left:: Well this will be a pleasant change of pace! In my experience, questions usually come from this side of the couch. ::smiling:: I’m happy to do the interview. Fire away!
She hesitated a moment, her shoulders went tight with discomfort, and she clutched the PADD in both hands in her lap.
Winslett: Is there anything else you’d like to talk about while you’re here?
T’Fearne: I also realised…The recent missions have kept me... occupied. I haven't exactly made time for a proper check-in with the ship's counsellor since coming aboard. I suppose now is as good a time as any. What would you like to know?
Winslett: ::furrowing his brow:: Interesting. Well, I’ll start by saying that, really, what I want to know is how you’re doing. How have you been lately?
The question struck her as amusing in its casualness. It felt oddly personal, coming from someone she barely knew.
T’Fearne: :: slight head tilt, ghost of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth :: I believe I’ve been operating within acceptable parameters.
Winslett: ::laughing:: Yes, I suppose it’s rather vague. I know that can be frustrating, but I don’t want to impose a standard of being on you. I want you to control the conversation. Let me help you organize any unpleasant emotions or persistent thoughts tumbling around in there ::pointing to his own head::.
Smothering a sigh, T’Fearne shifted slightly, smoothing a nonexistent crease in her uniform, adjusting her seat slightly, trying to get more comfortable. It wasn’t the couch, or the lighting or the decor or even Counsellor Winslett himself, it was the whole thing, the formula of "counselling" that made her uncomfortable.
T’Fearne: I suppose I do have thoughts… questions I ask myself that don’t always resolve cleanly. Things I wrestle with, sometimes.
oO …feelings! Oo
Winslett: Before we continue, do you mind if I record our conversation? It’ll be kept in strict confidence. It just helps me refresh my memory before we talk next, but it’s completely up to you.
T’Fearne: With respect, Lieutenant, :: PADD creaking under the strain of her grip :: I’ve had enough of my counselling sessions being recorded throughout my life. I understand your intent, but I’d prefer this remain a simple conversation, for now at least. As fellow crewmates, getting acquainted.
She hoped he wouldn't be offended, knowing how her words might come across as blunt, cold, perhaps even defiant. But she’d spent too many childhood and teenage years having her thoughts and emotions dissected in playback. Now, if she sought counsel, it would be entirely on her terms. A year on the frontier of the Alpha Isles had seared off the people-pleaser-cadet shine.
She met Winslett’s warm brown gaze with calm certainty. For a moment, she thought she detected a flash of emotion, maybe disappointment, maybe something self-deprecating, maybe her paracortex throwing up random nonsense again.
Winslett: ::nodding:: Understood. And don’t let me forget about the security recertification before you leave! Sometimes I can get to talking and completely forget why I walked into a room. Now ::shifting in his seat:: let’s start with your time on the Ronin. How are you enjoying a post with security?
He didn’t flinch at her boundaries. She appreciated his professionalism and casual display of humanity. She decided to see if he would meet her in a place she was more comfortable.
T’Fearne: I won’t let you forget. :: tapping a long finger against the PADD :: But before I answer that, I have a request. Would you mind if we walked while we talked? Through the ship, I mean. I find I speak my mind more naturally in motion or when I’m occupied with a task. Perhaps I could give you a tour of an area you haven’t seen yet?
Winslett: Response
((Arboretum, Deck 4, USS Ronin))
The arboretum spanned the height of two decks, 04 and 05, a quiet sanctuary of life tucked into the starship's steel frame. Tall trees from alien worlds stretched toward the upper level, where a narrow catwalk circled the space, dotted with benches and discrete railings.
Down below, carefully curated gardens spilled into ordered wildness, moss-covered stones, sculpted hedges from Risa, hanging blossoms from Telar Prime. A holographic waterfall danced down one wall, mimicking the rhythmic crash of water over stone, though it emitted no scent. In the centre, a patch of grass spread out like a soft carpet, punctuated by stepping stones and a simulated koi pond with lifelike fish swimming just beneath the surface. Deep greens dominated the space, accented by vivid purples, blues, and a single shock of fuchsia.
Invisible to most, a biome of bacteria, fungi, and harmless insects worked together to maintain the ecosystem. Somewhere in the background, a few long-suffering Ops crew or overqualified xeno-horticulturalists likely monitored it all, making sure the grass never grew too wild or the plants ate anybody.
T’Fearne leaned on the upper railing, taking in a lungful of the filtered yet earthy air. It wasn’t Proxima Sigma IV’s mountain breeze, but it was the Ronin’s little shipboard retreat. This area of the ship had been one of the surprises that she hadn’t expected to find aboard, but the literal need to “touch grass” or go crazy was clear for many members of the crew. As ships counsellor and as a newcomer to the Ronin, she thought he would probably need to know about this place sooner rather than later. She took a deep breath and felt the tension leave her shoulders, casting a glance at Winslett to see how he was taking it in.
T’Fearne: Circling back to your earlier question about enjoying my Security post…I am, but it’s not quite what I was expecting. :: Beat :: I thought it would be PADDwork, safety drills, data reviews, keeping everyone safe. And it is, for the most part. It's the missions that I was not expecting. :: waving a hand to forestall the expected cliché :: Yes, yes, the Academy instructors told us to expect the unexpected. But somehow, I thought we’d be doing more... exploring. Starfleet things, diplomatic first contacts, stellar phenomena, boldly going. The missions so far have been… Unexpected and bloody. I’ve found myself reacting in ways I'd have never expected of myself.
T’Fearne paused as a turquoise insect with delicate gossamer wings and beady red eyes alighted on the railing before her. It whirred softly as it settled. She straightened off the rail, giving the creature space, though she remained close to Winslett, looking out over the mini shipboard jungle.
Winslett: Response
T’Fearne: It’s just more than I thought it would be. Your public file says you’ve recently transferred from the Austaeus. Can you relate?
Winslett: Response
T’Fearne: Can I ask you an odd question? :: turning to look at August, analytical but curious :: Who do you talk to when you’ve soaked up the fears and trauma of the crew? What do you do with the feelings you come in contact with?
She gave him an appraising look.
Winslett: Response
[Tag, You’re It! / TBC]
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14