Star Trek: Starbase 777

After messaging T'she about their biweekly teatime, which, even though it had never technically been roleplayed before, had probably been going on since he first offered to have tea with them eons ago, he arrived at the rose garden in thematically appropriate attire: a white dress shirt, opal earrings that looked like white roses, white leather riding boots with a rose pattern on the side (he'd gotten them from that western wear shop), and white, tight jeans. A semi-casual look. He hadn't brought his own tea set since T'she had offered to bring theirs, and so found a nice table by a patch of vibrant red roses, bright next to his white clothes, and took a seat, reading something on his Spindle (space kindle) as he waited. Probably fun facts about tea.

It was almost time for another one of their biweekly tea times, an event that always brought T’she some form of joy. Really, they had prepared a bit too much in the leadup, contemplating over exactly what teas they should bring, or which one of their tea sets would work best (they had offered to make the tea this time, and they, like always, wanted to do a good job doing it). They had settled for a small selection on blends, teas known to the Vulcans, teas known to the Klingons, and finally teas known to the Humans – a good way to represent both of their heritages, and a good way to offer different choices. They had dressed in their typical off duty clothing – with a slight twist. Instead of a jacket over their white turtleneck, they wore a nice red sweater with white roses patterned across it. They arrived to the rose garden promptly on time, their eyes searching for Eshen, walking over when they caught sight of him, a slight smile on their face. “It is good to see you, as always,” they spoke as they set down the tea set they had chosen on the table – one of their grandmother’s that they had inherited, terra cotta in color and seemingly simple, but T’she would always say that this set made the best tea period.

"Oh, T'she, first of all, hell-ooo, and secondly - we're so fantastically coordinated today!" Was the first thing Eshen exclaimed when he saw T'she. "And what a beautiful tea set. You have such excellent taste in tea and terracotta." He was having a good time already! "Sit, sit," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "What kinds of tea did you bring today? I really enjoyed that blue spice tea your brought before. I didn't know redspice could taste so minty." He still preferred resdpice tea, but variety was the spice of life. Sometimes on these meetings they even shook it up and drank... coffee instead. Nalas, of course, would also recommend various forms of boba, and they'd had some together on dates in the past; he had enjoyed taro milk tea, and as well as tapioca there'd been these little popping boba that were quite satisfying to bite, but he hadn't enjoyed the texture of the little weird things called 'jelly' boba. Over-all, though, he was a steadfast regular ol' hot tea fan, especially in fancy pots.

"I think both of us were inspired by our surroundings in this outing" they said with a soft laugh as they set down the tray and their tea set on the table in front of them. "This was my grandmother's favorite tea set, I've always found that it makes any tea taste even better than it would have otherwise." They explained their choice before they opened a bag and set out three separate tins of tea. "I have three teas for us to choose from today. First is Bahgol -- non-poisonous. Second is some classic redspice tea -- I am quite glad that you enjoyed the bluespice from last time, but sometimes the classics are the way to go. Third is Genmaicha -- it is a classic green tea with roasted sticky rice included, I would have brought a tea with roses in it, but I must be all out, a shame," they finished their explanation after they had sat down, hiding their excitement behind their usual stoic exterior, but a lot more relaxed than they usually were -- a common feature for these outings.

Ah. Their grandmother's tea set. That made him miss someone back on Earth. "I think you're probably right; the pot is as important as the tea, after all. Non-poisonous Baghol, though? You must've searched high and low to find that - I'm flattered!" He rarely got to taste it un-poisoned. The flavour was subtly different, probably because it was poison't. "The sticky rice sounds divine, and, of course, you can never go wrong with Redspice." Always good to mix in familiar tastes with unfamiliar ones. It kept the new things feeling new. "Next time, let's drink here again, and I'll bring some rose tea. For now, let me do the honours of preparing the Bahgol." Now, here comes the big question: how the hell would they heat the tea in the middle of a rose garden? The answer was, uh, who knows? Portable kettle powered by Wi-Fi battery or nearby replicator, probably, but it didn't matter - not before long, they had a steaming pot of Bahgol. "Let's hope we live 'til tomorrow," he said, as a morbid toast, as he poured out the drinks and then sipped one. It would be slightly bitter if poisoned, but it tasted sweet and a little tangy instead, which was a good sign.

“It was difficult to source, but I thought it would be a nice addition to our tea time repertoire,” T’she explained as they stopped fussing over the tea set and let Eshen take over in preparing the Baghol. They themself were never the best at it, even if they were always trying to get better – a fact evident from their rapt attention to Eshen’s movements. “I need to keep finding nice teas for these outings after all, I have quite enjoyed hunting for them so far,” they admitted with a slight tilt of their head – something akin to a laugh perhaps, given their usual, now only slightly, stoic demeanor. “Yes, let us hope,” they responded to the toast as they lifted their cup to take a sip. At least the taste was what they expected, that was very good, that meant that they had not been scammed into buying poisonous Baghol when they did not wish to do so. “The Baghol is divine, a testament to your preparation, of course,” they complimented with an actual small smile on their face.

"It's a bit of a game, isn't it, looking for the teas? I've had fun with it myself." It was easy at first, but it got harder and harder to find teas they hadn't tried before - all part of the challenge. The internet (or the Trek equivalent) had been a real boon, though. He exhaled a sigh of relief after T'she sipped and had no bad reaction, which hopefully meant neither of them had been poisoned today. Even if they had, they'd probably still be fine after a rush to sickbay, but he'd still rather neither of them had to have that experience. That the risk existed, though, even small, kind of made drinking the tea more exciting. "Thank you. I do have an advantage when it comes to preparing Baghol, of course." He tapped his ridges, returning T'she's small smile with his own, glad to have made them of all people show such emotion. "I think you'd best prepare the Genmaicha, though. I'm not as experienced with that one."

“You are quite right, I have found that I have been joining more enthusiast groups and making more friends while I try to find new things to try – a real boon I would like to say,” They admitted, they were getting more comfortable with being more social, getting more comfortable with talking to other people outside of work settings, and they were glad to say that their efforts had been succeeding thus far. It made them feel more human – and at the same time it made them feel more Vulcan. It made them feel more alive. It was good to know that they had in fact secured the correct tea, it made them all the more confident, and they even let out a small chuckle at Eshen’s gesture before they started to prepare the Genmaicha for a second course. After all, more tea was always welcome at these meetings. “I shall prepare the Genmaicha then, I hope you will enjoy it,” they spoke with a nod as they went through every step the same way their grandparents used to their own little ritual that ended with a delicious beverage!

T'she begun preparing the tea a little fast - his wasn't even properly cooled down yet, but he supposed it might be by the time they were done, so he gave his tea a big sip. He felt the sweetness over his tongue and down his throat, and then the tang in his whole mouth, a slightly dry but enjoyable taste that lasted longer than you'd expect. "I will enjoy it - undoubtedly, as I have enjoyed our friendship. Meet anyone interesting in these enthusiast groups?" He took another, smaller sip. "I met a Bolian the other day who had the most amazing sense of style - all high collars and leather and spikes. He was an engineer. His girlfriend was getting harassed by some ruffian, so he reported him to the authorities, but he said if that didn't solve the problem, he'd hit him with the 'reverse salt vampire'. I have no idea what that means, so I assume it was a concept the translator had difficulty putting into my own language; I can only theorise that it meant he was going to dehydrate him into a shriveled prune, or perhaps throw a salt lick at him." (edited)

Another day, another walk for his health. Tavaen was struggling today, having woken up with aching joints and a headache, and now that he was out and about, his lungs were starting to struggle too. He'd been leaning heavily on his cane for a while now, but finally had to call it, needing to take a rest immediately to have any hope of making it back to his quarters on his own. Luckily, there were plenty of benches everywhere in the environmental ring, and the rose garden was no different. It was slightly embarrassing, to be this weak. He could only imagine what his former allies would think if they saw him now. On his good days, he didn't have to think about it, and using his cane was second nature now to a degree that his ego didn't suffer. But on days like these, his stubbornness always ended up in a fight with his physical limits, and his physical limits always won. Which was almost more humiliating: he had to imagine one day pushing past his limits until he wouldn't be able to return home on his own. So he sat there, breathing heavily, trying to distract himself from his petty misery by imagining how he'd prune the bushes around him, which of the plants could use some more fertiliser, where to apply growth hormones to fill out the canopy slightly better. He was sure his expert opinion wasn't wanted, and these plants weren't grown for vanity the way he used to grow plants before Praetor 3, but it distracted him enough, at least for a little bit.

Evoras was wandering. If someone asked, she would naturally come up with a perfectly logical reason to be doing that. In reality though she had simply been feeling restless, not due to a lack of things to do, no never that, but rather because her brain was tired of the same few rooms she usually frequented. For once she was actually not wearing her uniform despite being off duty, rather she was wearing two tunics on top of one another under an orange-stained originally white cardigan and had wrapped a scarf around her neck. Her hair was open, but still slightly wavy from being braided. She wasn’t exactly trying to hide, but if she wasn’t recognised due to her atypical getup she would not be mad about it. Seemingly without a destination she wandered through the rose garden, it was just barely better than walking up and down the trail like an impatient student waiting for a test result. She suspected the beauty of the rose garden was lost on her to a degree. The plants were mostly growing well, and seeing as Evoras remembered the poor flowers her mother had attempted to grow in their garden when she was young, she didn’t plan on nitpicking. Everything was rather startling green, so much so it almost hurt to look at. Stopping, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, it smelled like plants and wet earth and the ever present tang of metal the earth of her mother’s garden had always had was missing. It was cooler too, almost cold really, like most of the station. The light was no natural sunlight, for obvious reasons, and while she wasn’t certain what a garden such as this might sound if it were located planetside, she suspected there might be differences in that department as well. She had not deliberately stopped close to where someone was sitting. That said, she slowly turned and examined the somewhat heavily breathing person for a moment “Greetings. Are you doing quite alright?” With her hand she absentmindedly formed the ta’al.

Tavaen had noticed the tall woman approach, but vaguely, his mind on other things. It was hard to lose himself completely to his thoughts still, even after his many years retired from his Intelligence work, but at the very least he could choose not to pay attention to all of his surroundings. Still, it was hard to ignore someone when they were talking to you, and as he looked up at the Vulcan, faced with the ta'al, he code-switched rapidly, greeting with the ta'al in return and responding in perfect Vulcan. "As alright as I can be, thank you," he responded between heaves of laboured breaths, clearly uncomfortable but, as expected of both Vulcans and Romulans, not showing much outwardly aside from the physical symptoms he couldn't hide. "I am taking a physically mandated rest." Bit of a pretentious way to say that you tired yourself out too much and needed to sit there until you could stand to move again, but an old man should be allowed his pride every so often.

Letting her hand fall back to her side and listening to what he said, Evoras slowly raised an eyebrow. For a while she stood there as if frozen in place. Something that might have been sympathy, pity or something else entirely passed over her face, before it vanished just as fast as it had appeared and she nodded. She had not expected to be responded to in Vulcan and hesitated a little before she spoke, but ultimately decided to switch to it as well. “I have found those rests are often the most difficult to tolerate.” When speaking her first language, she had a rather distinct, rather thick rural accent and neither could nor wanted to speak the language without it, but she did do her best to keep dialect words out of what she said as she usually did when she wanted to be understood. Reminding herself that her hair was not braided and therefore she had no braid she could pull on, she crossed her arms behind her back. “Will you be capable of continuing on?” Perhaps it was a foolish question to ask, after all she was well aware how hard pride you had never known existed within you could kick in in situations such as this, making you cling desperately to some semblance of control. He had no reason really to admit weakness to her even if he did need help.

Tavaen's Vulcan was proper, if a little older fashioned, and occasionally he had to look for words as if it had been a while since he'd spoken it properly. Which wasn't untrue, as the last time he'd spoken Vulcan full-time had been when he'd been on Vulcan, nearly seventy years ago. He'd taught it to Letor when he was young, and he'd spoken it frequently then too, but not like he had on Vulcan. As a result, despite never having unlearned it completely, he was slightly rusty still. "One gets used to it. At my age, there's very little that doesn't tire you out." It wasn't like he was super old for a Vulcanoid, hair not even starting to grey yet (though that might have been due to good genetics as well), but he had visible wrinkles and was obviously much much older than the woman before him. "Eventually, I will be able to walk on. For now I must sit and rest the legs." And the lungs. "But I thank you for your considerate nature, miss-" he trailed off, prompting Evoras to identify herself without asking for it. He liked knowing who he was talking to was all. His own name would probably give his heritage away, his given name at least, as his house name would certainly give it away. He couldn't bear to give either of his Vulcan names though, as those belonged to a house on Vulcan he would never be welcome in again.

For all that Evoras wasn’t out of practise as much as Tavaen was and had spoken the language full-time more recently, among other reasons for the simple fact that she’d not been alive long enough for that not to be the case, she had started to notice herself getting out of practise too. Not in simple conversations such as this, for now it was mostly limited to reading scientific publications, but it was somewhat startling nonetheless. She gave a short nod at what he said, it was less an agreement and more an acknowledgement. Considering the fact that she had been alive for less than half a century as well as the average Vlcanoid life expectancy, considering her young probably wasn’t the widest stretch one could potentially make. “I can not speak from personal experience when it comes to age related ailments. Yet even so, I would still imagine it to be a considerable feat of reason to accept limitation without… difficulty.” Raising an eyebrow she carefully looked him up and down, trying to assess whether he was being truthful about his condition. When she didn’t see anything that she could say with certainty contradicted his claim she slowly nodded. “Evoras.” She ever so slightly bowed her head in greeting, then she hesitated a second before expanding on that with her entire name. The one she had deliberately not used in its entirety on her Starfleet documentation when she had applied. She couldn’t say why she felt like using it now, but she didn’t expect to be asked for her reasoning so she elected to neglect reflecting upon it. Her name didn’t connect her to any well known people, unless you counted her herself personally as well known, which she would not. It was quite traditional though and connected her irrefutably to a rural area in the Redspice Dessert. “If I may ask for your name in return?”

"Miss Evoras, you flatter me. Accepting one's limitations is never easy; in fact, on days like these where I overexert myself, I must admit I can hardly bear to live with it at all." Was it possible to be jealous of one's past self, for taking health and comfort for granted when in fact they could be stripped away so easily? For not knowing the aches of age, the weakness of illness, the loss of strength to hold oneself upright when the body finally had enough? "I am Tavaen," he offered Evoras in return. An old Romulan name, one that forever sounded strange to his ears in a Vulcan accent when he had two names he would rather be called. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What brings you to this beautiful garden today?" Small talk could never hurt while he had to wait, the surface easy to breach even if deeper waters could never be uncovered in a chance meeting like this. At least the breathing was getting easier. Now he only needed the strength in his legs back to get home. Ev'kor was going to berate him for this, he knew it.

Evoras was about to protest that she had not intended to flatter him at all and was merely stating facts, but she quickly closed her mouth again as he continued. Her face was straight, but her eyes were almost warm and she nodded in understanding. “It is… unpleasant to be reminded you can not do things.” Frustrating, humiliating, infuriating. Her mind supplied quite a few words she might have used instead of ‘unpleasant’, but she opted for the choice that left her the least vulnerable. “If it is of any concern to you, I promise not to tell anyone about the circumstances of this meeting unless they are acutely important.” It wasn’t like she would ever do so anyway so the promise was easily made. Plus even if she were to talk about him, she didn’t (perhaps foolishly) think the likelihood of them knowing him was very big. All in all the statement was her trying to be nice and a little less grim. She knew practically nothing about Romulan names, aside from what she had learned from looking up how to pronounce the names of people she had regular contact with, so she simply nodded at his name. “Likewise. I suppose I am ensuring I remain familiar with the entire station. I do not usually frequent this part of it and it has been… some time. It is not an aesthetically unpleasant place. Is that the reason you are here?”

"Oh, I wasn't worried, miss Evoras. What reason would you have to tell on an overconfident old man you found sitting by the roses?" What reason indeed. Perhaps there were some who could do something with that information that was worthwhile, perhaps give him a reason to be worried. But Evoras didn't know any of them, and even if she did, by the time they found him through her he wouldn't be sitting here anymore. "I do frequently visit, yes. It's a necessity for my physical health, even if on some days it's easy to overdo. And my son, who is a doctor, tells me that plants are good for one's mental health, so on the days I don't go down to the promenade, I wander around here. It's big enough that I rarely do the same round twice." For the first time in nearly 150 years, his mental health had been made a priority. He never would have even considered it, if Ev'kor hadn't mentioned it off-handedly during one of their calls. And realistically, he had nothing but time now, so why not take care of his mental health, too? Of all the luxuries in the world, that one might have been the most priceless.

“I expect not to have any, but it would have been dishonest to pretend there were no hypothetical reasons that might prompt me to share information with someone else.” Her shoulders moved in a way that looked like she was fighting the urge to shrug. She was listening to Taevan speak, but her eyes were focused on the landscape before them. “My mother would definitely agree with your son’s opinions on plants. When I was on sick leave she was insistent I spend just about every second I was awake in the garden. Although… her garden is about as different from this one as it possibly could be.” Tilting her head back she looked up to the artificial lighting. “It is a lot less green for one and no wider than three metres at any point. I suppose, there is a nice view down the street from the garden chairs, but in the evening the sun shines down it and blinds you when you step outside.” Evoras didn’t smile or roll her eyes, but there was a warmth to her words that didn’t reach her expression. She had numerous fond memories that featured that thin stripe of sandy earth, surrounded from all sides but one by houses. Her mother had for als long as she could think done her best to force any and all plants that stood any chance whatsoever of surviving to grow there. The garden chair that had been assigned to her in her childhood was half broken and she remembered the careful way in which she would have to sit down on it as if she had just done so moments ago. When Evoras’ father had died her mother had thrown away the broken chair after coming to the entirely rational conclusion that they would not be needing three chairs anymore. It was a logical choice, but she had still avoided sitting in her father’s chair when visiting up until she was stuck on Vulcan three years ago. She rapidly blinked twice, returning her thoughts back towards the garden in front of them. “Is this…” She nodded towards a rose bush. “anything like the kind of garden you are used to?”

Tavaen listened intently to Evoras as she spoke of her mother's garden on Vulcan, presumably. She seemed fond of the place, having good memories there. Tavaen supposed he could relate; for him, the Khellian estate on ch'Rihan was much the same. He wasn't the one keeping the gardens then, but he spent a lot of time there, and the periods he did spend at home were usually spent agonising over the poor care some of the gardeners took of the flowers. Once he moved to a smaller house with his own family, after his stint on Vulcan that had resulted in a child, he had taken great pride in having his garden taken care of. "My first wife and I lived in a small house in the middle of the city, and we were so busy then we didn't have the time to keep a garden of any sort. When she divorced me, I took our son and moved closer to my family again, but I did get a house with a garden then." He sounded fond and full of love when he mentioned his first wife and son, despite her divorcing him. He didn't even realise he was doing it. "I maintained purple-veined succulents with flowers as big as one's face, and I was particularly proud of a large citrus tree that had come with the house, that finally started growing fruit again under my care." Never mind the fact that he was forced to get his own house because his mother didn't want to see him after disappearing for five years and coming home with a bastard child, he missed that house, and he missed Romulus. Particularly on days like these, where existence was sometimes as difficult as trying to pet a sseikea, he missed the past he was free to view with rose-coloured glasses, because it wasn't there for him to return to anyway.

Evoras nodded along as he spoke, silently taking note of the emotional tone of voice. The only time she had lived in a city was during her days at the academy and rather than notice any lack of gardens, in the first weeks she'd spent every free moment sitting in a park under a tree staring at just how green everything was. Once she had gotten more used to that plants weren't something she thought about often evidently, seeing as the cactus her mother had insisted she bring didn't make it past the first year. “My mother is a nursery school teacher and her commute to work barely takes longer than mine does here on this station. She can make time.” Evoras knew her mother had grown up on a farm and sorely felt the lack of space in the house they lived in. This, Evoras suspected, was also why she never complained when Evoras wandered off into the desert outside the town as a child. When he started to describe the plants her eyebrows slowly crept higher. By no means was she well versed on plants and perhaps those were completely normal plants to have in your garden on Mol’Rihan or Romulus or whatever other planet his house had been on, but to her they sounded… fancy, for lack of a better word. She tried to imagine what the garden he described might have looked like. “I do not usually garden, although I own a pot with a cluster cactus from Vulcan. It is supposed to have small dark red flowers…” The plant did in fact vehemently refuse to bloom, which Evoras was quite frankly not too surprised by. Yes, it really was more of a weed than a typical potted plant and grew under basically any conditions, but she was fairly certain that was the only reason the poor thing hadn’t perished in her care yet. The way Tavaen spoke about plants however made it sound like he enjoyed caring for them and was considerably better at it than her too. “Do you keep any plants currently?”

A school teacher with a short commute... that would be a nice living. In another world, perhaps; he used to be an instructor at the Imperial War College and didn't hate it, after all, so perhaps... ah, but what use do Federation or Republic schools have for the wisdom of an old fool? Perhaps it was best to let that little dream fly. Especially since currently, he was flying under the radar; certainly an employer would want to know what his previous experience was, and his identity forging days were far behind him now. Ah, well. Surely someone important had had something meaningful to say about dreams, at some point, well-articulated in a way he couldn't. "Since my retirement, I've had more time on my hands than I know what to do with, so I've taken to the Earth art of bonsai, myself. If you're unfamiliar, they take trees or bushes and use wires and different pruning techniques to keep the trees small, and in aesthetically pleasing figures. I've got an Earth apple tree, so far, and a small Klingon zilm'kach that is only just starting to get big enough that I can begin shaping it." He'd have to acquire Romulan citruses too at some point, but that could wait. Maybe when his sons visited, they could bring some with them? Certainly Letor would do so if he asked, and he would bring only the healthiest saplings for him to work with... Ev'kor, for all his sweetness, enjoyed the process of healing too much for Tavaen to trust him with moving plants over. There was a significant risk of ending up with a sick plant he needed to heal before he could do with it as he intended. "Despite you owning your own plants as well, I don't sense the same enjoyment in gardening your mother and I seem to share. Simply not a fan of getting one's hands dirtied?"

Evoras did not really comprehend why you would desire to keep trees small. In her opinion the way a tree ought to look was as tall as its surroundings allowed it to grow, casting shadow, defying the elements to the last root desperately holding on. They were aesthetic the same way rocks and clouds were, the way that allowed you to see new faces and shapes from every angle. She supposed the shaping that Tavaen described was in a way its own form of hardship, even if it came at the hand of a person, or maybe it was not so bad when one knew what they were doing. Either way it was not something she would enjoy, she concluded. Though it sounded like an impressive skill regardless. Tilting her head Evoras remained silent for quite a while after she’d processed his question, not knowing quite what or how to respond. “Not as such. Do I give off such an impression?” Her eyebrow shot up entirely unconsciously. “I do not… Well, nature is… fascinating.” Wonderful. “From a grain of sand to our galaxy and beyond the universe we live in is filled with… wonders, I suppose.” She crossed her arms behind her back to stop them from reaching for her hair. “It is the constant or rather consistent care that caring for plants requires that is the reason for my… uneasiness. It is less unsettling to care for things that do not depend on you quite that much. They are in better care with others and deserve better care than I would give them. I am more at ease with, well the stars for example.” A traitorous voice in the back of her mind whispered about how that wasn’t exactly a sentiment that was reserved for her interests only. It was much the same for people. It was horrifying to think of someone depending on her that much, too much, not on Commander Lhai’Ivek, who may be missed but ultimately could be replaced by any number of other scientists, but on Evoras. The thought was subsequently pushed away with a small head shake.

"Most people, when they enjoy an activity, don't tend to mention their mother's affinity for it first of all. I simply... inferred," Tavaen said, a sense of mirth in his tone as Evoras reacted outwardly despite her best intentions. He had to fight to not be reminded of a young widow he met, well over seventy years ago- ah, but that was nostalgia speaking, she and Evoras looked nothing alike. "I'm much the opposite, I fear. The nature I can touch is most valuable to me. Perhaps it is an arrogance, to insist on those things I can leave my imprint on. The stars won't change for anyone, but one man can set the river off her set course, should he set his mind to it. Those tangible things..." he was getting too old for childish dreams. Whatever imprint he will have left on the world, on the galaxy, on the universe, it will have been made already. Most likely, it would remain at the plants he chooses to cultivate and shape, at the animals he chooses to keep. Perhaps, at his progeny, certainly destined for greater things than he. "They hold much more meaning to me than the things I cannot change or influence." Perhaps it was, as with most things, simply an expression of the ancient hubris that burdened the old aristocrat who had yet to suffer real trouble for the folly of his actions.

“I suppose that is a fair observation…” Still, she would like to think that her none existent interest in gardening did not stem from a place of her feeling above getting her hands dirty. At least not anymore. There may have been a point in time when she had held similar irrational beliefs, but life had a way of rapidly correcting those views in anyone willing to listen and reflect. She stopped herself from commenting on how she knew multiple ways one person might directly affect the stars, seeing as that might be a little tactless when she was speaking to a Romulan. It would have been disingenuous as well, bringing up a technicality, when she was capable of comprehending his meaning just fine. “The ways in which we affect the universe and it affects us in turn are a fascinating field of study on their own. That said, it is perfectly reasonable to prefer easier to predict and more apparent results to one’s efforts.” For a while Evoras paused, eyes slightly narrowed but not focused on anything in particular, as she tried to find an appropriate way to put her thoughts into words. She had never even considered that the stars, metaphorically and literally speaking, might be something beyond her reach. “I do find my field of study worthwhile for the knowledge I gain in studying it, but to claim I do not… know the interest to be in control would be dishonest.” It was always reassuring to see when her work paid off in some way and she liked feeling competent, even if she would likely never even (want to) attempt most of the things she knew how to do in theory. “It is very well possible that between the two of us I am the arrogant one.”

"Easy to predict and apparent is certainly a way to describe the effects of the keeping of plants. Still, I understand looking at the stars, and wishing to understand them. I suppose in much the same way I enjoy taking the life of plants into my own hands but am content to stare at the stars without understanding them, you research the stars, and are content to look at a flower without needing to be the one with your hands in the soil." It wasn't difficult to relate to people when you approached them through such a lens. That was something Tavaen had had to learn, a lesson that hadn't sunk in until after the Great Loss, but it was valuable, and he used it often now that he was a free man in more senses of the word than simply his physical ability to move where he wanted. "Let's then share the arrogance between us. Me, for my desire to see the effects my deeds have on the world, and you for the desire to bring order to the chaos of the universe by understanding it. I'm sure there's enough of us to carry the burden. It gets more comfortable with age, anyway." As with many things (though ironically, the opposite of one's body) age made it easier to deal with heavy feelings. Guilt and shame and fear stung less when you'd felt them a million and one times before.

“What odd things interests and preferences are. They make us value one thing over another entirely on a whim. Although I do think, as it tends to be with things, there is reason and logic to be found behind them if one looks at the matter from the right angle.” She tilted her head, looked at one of the rose bushes and stopped herself from humming. “It is easy to write others off as illogical when in reality you just do not understand them.” In this comparison of interests she didn’t lack understanding, it was a disparity in world views that she had been made to understand by her mother as child. Still it was an important thing to remember, even if she had perhaps not needed to say it out loud. It had always been the understanding of logic that to her had seemed least prone to oversights fueled by arrogant ignorance. Perhaps that was because it was the one taught to her as a child, but she liked to think that wasn’t the only reason. “I suppose we do share it with quite a large number of people in this universe. Although I would rather not get entirely used to the discomfort. It is a fitting reminder, I think, of the gravitas and scale of all that we are a part of.” *Towards the end her voice trailed off slightly. She was treading dangerously close to reasoning her way into being emotional. “What I mean is that it is important to… remember to take a look at the bigger picture on occasion and a sense of unease is a convenient reminder.”

"My mother seemed to believe that one's interests are determined by what you are surrounded with. I do not know how true that is, and I certainly don't know where my eldest got his interest in circuitry if that is the case. Nature versus nurture, as humans have historically put it, I think. Are we shaped by our experiences, or the very building blocks of our being? I do take more after my father, in many regards." Turik e-Llairne tr'Khellian had been a lover, more than a fighter. How he ever ended up with the opportunistic, ruthless, strict Tika t'Khellian would be a mystery for the ages, but at least it gave Tika one child who survived her, given that all three of Tavaen's older sisters left home forever by eighteen to serve in the military, and none of them survived long enough to even see the Dominion War. "If that bigger picture is important to you, you must keep it in mind always, Miss Evoras. Some of us grow up and grow old forgetting how to look around them because they're to busy worrying about not scuffing up their shoes. And perhaps it is easiest to lose sight of the scale of it all when staring into something as vast as the starry sky." It is hard to forget what you are doing to people when you are looking them in the eye as you kill them, arrest them, condemn them to prison forever, destroy their life one way or another. You tell yourself what you are doing is good, and maybe you even believe it. But in Tavaen's century and a half of living, he'd found that the scientific types who don't actually have to work with people much have the luxury of believing themselves disconnected from it all, much more than someone like him ever did. Tavaen didn't think he was talking about astronomy or botany anymore. Ah, well. Despite his decades long attempt to distance himself from his past, a century of life lived did not simply go away like that. It would probably inform part of his being until he one day had the privilege of dying.

“I can’t say I disagree with her entirely, although it’s not usually as straightforward as placing a child in a library if you would like them to enjoy reading, people are more interesting and complex than that.” For all that people were unique, Evoras had yet to meet a child that wasn’t incredibly receptive to what happened in their surroundings. Why things developed into deep interests for some people rather than others was a more complicated topic, but you could hardly be interested in a field that you didn’t know existed to begin with. She tilted her head to the side, uncertain how much she ought to tell to what was effectively a stranger, before she decided it really did not matter. “My mother was convinced it was my father’s influence that led to my career aspirations.” To say that she had been initially displeased would be an understatement of colossal proportions, despite this it had only taken both her daughter and her husband looking at her with very pointedly raised eyebrows for Lhai to calm down again. “Naturally I am certain that if either of them had to be considered responsible it would be her.” After all Evoras only had one parent that followed the galactic news closely and she had not forgotten whose PADD her stumbling upon had resulted in watching reports on the Dominion War while she should have been at school. She had a hard time imagining herself being indifferent to what went on around her, not that she was overly invested in most people, but she had never managed to not care at least on a fundamental level. “I… have found, at least personally, that the stars, for all that they are usually far away, make it rather hard for you to forget that you’re not all there is. There is always something or someone else to consider.” The sky made her feel small, it was both thrilling and unsettling and she doubted she would ever have enough of it.

00:37

“Working with people helps too.” She could hardly avoid people in her position, nor would she want to. For all that Evoras internally cursed her paperwork, seeing the results of others succeeding was almost better at brightening her mood when she was stuck with her own work than tea. For all that she was enjoying the conversation, she wasn’t quite certain how they had ended up where they were. “There are, I am certain, quite a number of people who would call me illogically emotional if they overheard this conversation.” She raised an eyebrow as if to ask whether he would.

Tavaen calmly considered everything Evoras was saying. It seemed Evoras was of a different sort than many of his former colleagues were... Perhaps this wasn't crazy, as she was raised in a much different environment than what the Romulan Empire had been, a hundred years ago. "I wouldn't dare, Miss Evoras. I have always been the sentimental sort, myself. My Achilles' heel, according to many." Well, not that many, considering few Romulans knew of the human term, but Tavaen enjoyed the metaphor. "My son might agree, though, as he is far more disciplined than myself." He was talking about Letor, of course, who may not have necessarily valued the teachings of Surak the way the average Vulcan did, but followed many of the teachings for his own sake. Speaking of his sons, Tavaen was struck by a brilliant idea. "My other son is far more forgiving, in that sense. You should meet him, if you'd like. I feel he is similar to you, in a few ways. You could get along well." Well, it was a stretching of the truth, but not at all inaccurate, on the whole. Ev'kor was a sweet man, capable of getting along with anyone. "He is an accomplished doctor himself, so you're both in scientific fields, as well. He could use someone to talk to, to be around. I just wish for him to be happy." Yes, he was trying to sell his son to this woman, so he'd maybe get his ass in gear in the romantic department. Tavaen would never be mad at an intelligent, empathetic and beautiful daughter-in-law.

She straightened the way she was standing and raised her chin ever so slightly. Although she did in principle consider herself a follower of Surak’s teachings, she was well aware that some of her interpretations were heavily coloured both by how she had been raised as well as the long time she had spent away from Vulcan and amongst people from all over the galaxy. She did not regret how serving in Starfleet had changed her. Much thought and time had been invested into forming the beliefs on emotions and the discipline it took for them not to rule her actions that she held at present and, if necessary, she was willing to defend them. That said, she generally preferred not having to, so she simply nodded in acknowledgement and hoped the conversation would move on to a different topic. Only to be abruptly taken aback by what he said next. Evoras stared at Tavaen and blinked, once, twice, before raising her eyebrow. Uncertain whether she wanted to acknowledge what she thought he had meant and quite frankly a little bit bewildered by the unexpected topic she turned slightly to look at the rose bushes and contemplated what she had just heard. He must be proud of his sons, he did not strike her as the kind of person that would not be. “It is an important profession.” Her tone was very carefully blank. “I'm certain your son is an interesting person and it is probable that I would not mind talking to him, especially if what you say about him is true. That said, I generally do not… do this, especially not like this.” She paused, not particularly satisfied with the way she had worded that. “I am certain he will be able to find someone to talk to if he so wishes. How was the proverb again? There are countless creatures in the ocean?”

Ah, a shame. "He is very intelligent, and I'm very proud of his choice in career," he confirmed, not outwardly reacting to Evoras' polite refusal. "My children have done well for themselves, it's all an old man like me could want for." Let's not discuss his own life choices, or the fact that he didn't know what Pelmor was up to, only knowing that neither Letor nor Mirak would talk about him, or anything to do with him. He could take a hint, and Letor and Ev'kor were still around to be proud of. He felt his chest had loosened significantly from when he sat down, and he stood up to test it. Given that he didn't immediately topple over, he considered that to be the best it was going to get right now. He was still leaning heavily on his cane, but he'd get home fine-ish. "Miss Evoras, this conversation has been a delight, and I must thank you for sharing your time with me." It wouldn't do to leave suddenly, after all, and he had genuinely enjoyed their talk. "I fear I must leave for my quarters now, to take a proper rest. But perhaps we could repeat this sometime, when I'm in a better way." He wouldn't mind that, he could even put some tea on, maybe cook something for the occasion. "Live long and prosper," he finished, holding up another ta'al, as a proper goodbye.

She hoped, no she knew, that her mother and her father too, when he was still alive, felt the same way about her. Her mother would have rather walked out into the desert to die, than to deny her that certainty. That said, she was not quite sure whether she would make it known in such an apparent manner in a conversation with someone she had just met. “There is no need for thanks. I chose to spend my time this way and I assure you I hold no regrets. Should we cross paths in the future, it is likely that I will find an interesting conversation a worthwhile way to pass time then, as I did now.” For all that Evoras did not usually seek them out on topics that lay outside her expertise, she generally appreciated discussions and conversations in general, even if she had a tendency to forget that. People were interesting most of the time. She raised her right hand in a ta’al as well and nodded at him. “Peace and a long life.”