Ensign T’Fearne - Ronin Anachronism
Teayl Thorn
((Exterior Healers Domecile, near Batanca Spire, B'Hala, Kendra Provence, Bajor))
T’Fearne sat on a stone bench outside the healer’s shelter, allowing herself a few moments of respite to acclimate to the physical change in her circumstances. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft hum of life. Music echoed from down the street, and the lively bustle was almost too vibrant for her exhausted senses. Despite the confusion and physical discomfort, there was a strange peace in it all. The Bajorans, with their bright clothing and even brighter spirits, had welcomed “the ones sent by the prophets” with a warmth that felt both familiar and foreign. It was as though she had stumbled into a dream—a world on the cusp of reality and something else entirely.
Not forgetting her training, the young security officer had scouted the perimeter of the healer's house that they had been guided to and deemed it an unacceptable risk. Low, painless windows with flimsy wooden shutters flung open to the warm air and the bustling streets. She suspected it was market day, given the constant flow of carts and the crowd lingering in the area, though most seemed more curious than interested in working. There was a group of onlookers pretending to mind their business, though their eyes never strayed far from the newcomers in their midst.
She noticed a gangly, ginger youth lounging against the rough cool stone of an adjacent building. He had a basket of branches and was absentmindedly whittling pale strips of wood in his hands while pretending not to watch them. She studied his work for a moment, noting the care in his carvings before stepping closer.
T’Fearne: This is nice work. Do you sell the figures?
The boy stared at her, mouth slightly open to catch the local flying insects, then nodded without a word. His gaze darted nervously between her and the street, making it clear he wasn’t eager for much interaction. T’Fearne’s eyes fell on two sturdy branches in his basket, each about 40 centimetres long, solid and heavy enough to suit her purpose.
T’Fearne:::Holding them up to him:: How much for these:: after a moment thought:: and how much for the steel?
Belatedly, she realised she didn’t have anything to barter with. Or did she? She scrounged through the folds of the strange garments she wore and found several items. One turned out to be a rudimentary lighter or fire starter, a piece of rolled cloth and a sting of marked stone beads, what looked to be the local currency. Her Starfleet issues uniform, tricorder, delta and torch were all missing, replaced by the strange Bajoran clothes and pocket knickknacks.
T’Fearne: oO At least they have pocket-like pouches sewn into the garments. All they need now is pants Oo :: Holding the hand out to the boy:: Can I trade you?
The youth shook his head violently, pushed the sticks and the steel into her hands, picked up his basket and ran to the other side of the street. Clearly, he wanted to keep watching them but without having to interact with her.
Story of her teenage life.
T’Fearne: oO Boys, no matter what world or time you are from Oo :: shrugging::
Returning to the courtyard and the bench, T'Fearne allowed herself to take in the strange beauty of the ancient city around her, one that she had witnessed only hours before as cold, dark and hollow. She began stripping the bark from the sticks she had acquired. Not being particularly skilled at wood calving, she gouged her thumb a few times before adjusting to the new tool and the new fingers. Curiously glancing over at Ronin’s new science officer, she had several questions she wanted to ask her new shipmate, starting with her name.
T’Fearne::: cleared throat :: Ensign…Nemes, is it? You can call me T’Fearne. We are in some strange circumstances, but it’s good to meet you. :: Offering her diplomatic nod:: Did you just graduate from the academy?
Nemes: Response
T’Fearne: In that case, please accept a slightly belated welcome aboard the Ronin. I only graduated recently. I am from Betazed.:: Gesturing at her Bajoran visage:: originally Vulcan and Betazoid heritage. It was difficult to tell in the cistern…What species are you, or were you, if you don’t mind me asking? And where do you call home?
Nemes: Response
T’Fearne’s eyebrows quirked in surprise as their shared connection to Betatzed surfaced in the conversation. Before she could probe further, however, a recently familiar, shaky figure joined them in the sunshine.
Lorana: :: chuckles :: No one can say we don't bring the party eh?
T’Fearne: Steady, Commander? :: jumping up to offer a hand in case the former Caitian needed assistance::
Nemes: Response
Lorana: I'll be okay. I'm making adjustments :: looks to them :: We all are.
As the commander took a seat on another of the stone benches, T’Fearne returned to her knife and woodworking project. What Luxa said was true. She was slightly embarrassed at her initial reactions to waking up in a different location, in a different body. A weaker body. She had concerns about her primary function, even if she was an accidental addition to the science team, as a security officer by trade, she suspected she would feel more grounded when she finished her project.
T’Fearne: Yes Sir.
Nemes: Response
The petite Bajoran, formerly Vulcan, joined them outside.
Alieth: How do you feel? Have your wounds been tended to?
Lorana: I don't know what's in those incense sticks but I feel pretty … confused. But good. All things considered.
The security officer stared at the red blood drying on her thumb.
T’Fearne: This is very strange, Commander. I am not sure my current form will function at the efficiency to which I am accustomed, but I will adapt.:: flicking one of her sticks in a circle::
Nemes: Response
Alieth: We will have to get used to it, as far as we know. :: She paused, looking at all of them, although her gaze lingered a little longer on the most alien face, the one that belonged to the Bajoran Lorana, before she continued:: We have a few hours until our meeting with the religious leaders, so let us take advantage of them to study what is going on in the city. What locations do you think we should explore first?
The white-haired commander jumped up, overbalanced and corrected.
Lorana: :: raised eyebrows :: Bipedals. No tail. It's a miracle you can stand upright. I have a newfound appreciation for you all :: beat :: The only place of significance I remember is the Bantaca Spire that Benjamin Sisko unearthed, the waterfalls and the Temple of B'Hala - wasn't there another city, underneath B'Hala? Personally I think we should be trying to find the chamber. You know :: cautious :: Where we all almost drowned? Preferably with no water. That was the way here and probably the way back.
T’Fearne looked thoughtful, her brow furrowed.
T’Fearne: If this event is the past and not some hallucination or holodeck simulation of some sort, then we should figure out exactly where and when we are in history. What are the common threats or dangers of this time period? They may have records, historians or even orators who could shed light on what we’re dealing with and if there have been any others like us.
Nemes: Response
Alieth nodded, her voice was soft but firm.
Alieth: Other than that... have you been able to find out anything from our hosts? Anything to let us know about that prophecy about us saving the city?
Lorana: They called us priestesses. I didn't like that at all. Commander, Starfleet protocols state that we should be minimising our contact with the Bajorans and I think that includes not attending meetings with the religious leaders. I say we leave this place now, try to blend in while we find out what's going on?
Sheepishly T’Fearne looked down at the sticks she had been whittling with the gifted steel, her fingers unconsciously running over the grooves she had carved for better grip. Had she already caused damage to the future with her careless interactions with the people of this time?
T’Fearne: The people here... their demeanour is a mix of curiosity and awe. It may be difficult to disappear now, with so many having seen our faces. :: nodded toward the street where several people were trying to sneak glances at them:: And the prophecy... from the snippets I overheard, it mentions four women—possibly a talisman.
Alieth/Nemes/Lorana: Response
T’Fearne: One thing I am still confused about. I'm not a scientist, but I didn't think time travel could do this. :: gesturing with a stick around them and down at her alien body and garments::
Alieth/Nemes/Lorana: Response
A tremor unexpectedly shook the courtyard, causing a sculpture to topple and smash, clay tiles to slide from the roof and shatter around them, and livestock in the street protested, kicking up dust as the low rumble permeated the young city of B’Hala.
T’Fearne: That is a problem!
Alieth/Nemes/Lorana: Response
[[Tag, You’re It!/ Beginning of Act 2 for T’Fearne]]
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Ensign T'Fearne
Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14