JP Capt Greaves, Lt Sirok, & Lt Alieth - End of an Era - Part 1

[Jacob Rittenhouse]

JP Capt Greaves, Lt Sirok, & Lt Alieth - End of an Era - Part 1

((Vulcan, Kyr, Alem-kov restaurant))

It was an elegant place, the sound of Vulcan lyres filled the atmosphere. The space was softly illuminated with skylights and some candles, giving the place a warm aspect, a place for meditation. Even the diners at the different tables were following this order and seclusion, the forks could hardly be heard impacting with the ceramic of the plates and the conversations formed a very low murmur, almost monastic.

Sirok was the first to arrive, he had chosen the venue as per Wes' request, a fancy and elegant place for his new position. He had to use his family name to get a table, and it was one of the few times in his life that he had done so. The Vulcan had dressed appropriately for such a place and wore a light colored tunic with fine, elaborate embroidery.

When the next diner arrived, he was greeted by the maître and, without hardly speaking, accompanied to the table right in the middle of one of the skylights. He walked noiselessly, and moved smoothly, never breaking the atmosphere.

Sirok: Welcome. :: Sirok said without raising his voice, accompanying the atmosphere of the place. ::

Sirok had out done himself Wes thought. The restaurant was certainly a nice place. He’d initially thought of wearing his dress uniform, but now that he was here, the Marine was very happy he hadn’t. You couldn’t escape the warmth of the planet, and the tight fitting uniform would have been stifling. Even the button up shirt, tie, and slacks he wore didn’t provide much help against the heat. 

Greaves: (Quietly) Sirok, this place is exceptional. I didn’t realize Vulcans appreciated a fine dining experience. I thought you were all grim stoics. (winking)

Sirok: We appreciate art in a multitude of forms. Even more so if it can be achieved with a healthy diet.

The sound of Vulcan music filled the atmosphere.

Greaves: I’d expect nothing less from you… (pause) And I’d expect nothing less than fashionable lateness from our other compatriot. Where the heck is Alieth? 

Sirok: Her attention to schedules has never been great. And perhaps she wants to honor your culture by making us wait.

The Marine laughed and shook his head in mock offense. 

Greaves: I resent your implication that my people are always late. I mean… we are waiting on a Vulcan right now?

He continued to laugh and shake his head as the moment passed and they both watched the patrons of the restaurant. 

Sirok: Is this your first visit to Vulcan?

Greaves: This shore leave is, yeah. Alieth showed us how to sand board a little bit ago, but that’s it. I’ve got to say, it’s everything I was expecting, but still surprising.

Before he could answer, the door opened again and, this time, ushered in the petite CMO (and, as of recently, CSO) of the USS Thor. Like her fellow countryman, she was dressed in the traditional clothing of the planet, although the cut was slightly different. More angular, with bolder patterns, mostly in shades of ochre and red. The fabric was sturdier and heavier, made to withstand long wear and still remain comfortable. Although it didn't clash with the luxurious surroundings of the restaurant, it had a slightly disharmonious undertone in it, a slightly peasant, shabby, low-brow feel about it.

Alieth: Gentlemen

Greaves: Good to see you Alieth. 

Sirok: Doctor. :: He said it with a small nod of his head. ::

She nodded faintly and almost in unison the three of them sat down at the table. A second later in front of them were placed glasses of water, as well as a small tray with a desert flower on it, a token of peace.

Alieth: Remember almost a year ago, when we sat down for lunch at the Til'han Embassy? It was almost a day like this, with the sea in the background. ::She pointed to the only human at the table:: You ordered nachos.

Sirok: If you want to order some, they may only be able to make replicated ones.

Greaves: I recall a certain someone trying exceptionally hard to eat said nachos with chopsticks. Trying and failing pretty miserably if I remember right. 

[[TBC]]

OOC:

Alem-kov → Halite, a colorless or white mineral found in dried lakebeds in arid climates mined or gathered for use as table salt; rock salt

osu →      sir, used as a form of polite address for a man 

As simmed by:

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Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves

Marine Detachment Commander

USS Thor - NCC 82607

E239702WG0

&

Lieutenant Sirok

Chief Engineering Officer

USS Thor NCC-82607

Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding

E239702S10

 

&

Lt. Alieth

Chief Medical Officer

USS Thor NCC-82607

E239702A10  

Image Collective Facilitator /Art Director

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