Star Trek: Starbase 777 - ens-bright﹢morvar

He walked in, and hopped over to his shared quarters. Sitting down on the bed, he growled as he looked down at his cast and flopped backwards, blowing some hair strands away from his eyes.

Soon the doors opened again, and in stepped the Romulan scientist. He looked around briefly, a weird feeling of not-quite-home settling in his chest. He also had a feeling that he wasn't alone in the quarters. "Anyone here?" he asked slowly, looking pointedly at the entrance to his flatmate's room. (edited)

Bright froze in place and held his breath for a moment, his eyes widening. Who was it? Maybe that was his roommate? So many options, but... Hell, he was so tempted to scare whoever was there! But thinking about the whole situation better, he slowly made his way towards the door of his room and opened it, tilting his head. "Oh, hello there! May i help you?" He asked cheerfully and hid his broken leg from sight by crossing them and leaning onto the doorframe.

He heard rustling, and soon a head peaked out - a human, Saren discovered with a bit of surprise. He took in the glasses, the red hair, memorizing his roommate's look and voice. The stranger in front of him probably did the same. At least that's what the Romulan thought. "Wanted to make sure that it's a person I was hearing in the quarters, not something else," he replied, leaning against the couch with his hip. "You also live here, I assume?" His eyebrows lifted slightly.

Bright's one braincell was sleeping so there were no thoughts in that empty head of his. "Well, hope it's the good option out of whatever you were thinking!" He joked a little, giving Saren his signature crooked grin before he leaned a bit properly against the doorframe. "And yup, this is my corner. Not too fancy, but it's better than sleeping in a drawer." He chuckled softly.

It seemed that this one liked to joke. Saren let out a half-amused huff at the human's words and crossed his arms. "I did think of a small rodent for a moment. A full-sized human is better, I guess," he teased, tone much lighter than it was an hour ago in the turbolift. No need for intensity here. But the man's next words made him pause. "You... slept in a drawer?" he asked, his eyebrows dropping down to form a frown, now watching Jack more closely. He couldn't decipher if that phrase was a joke or not - it could be, it could be not. Better ask.

"Ha! That'd be something else entirely." He noted, then gave Saren an amused grin and crossed his arms, his puffy red eyebrows furrowing a little. "Well... Not here, obviously, but maybe one day i did. It depends on what you want to think." Cryptic as always, that Spring-Heeled Jack. "OH! I remembered something- Would you like anything to eat or drink? It'd be terribly rude of me to not offer you something."

For a moment he just stared at Jack - this guy moved fast. He'll have to adapt to his tempo and learn the language, not the hardest things to do. But still, it was surprising how... open? this man seemed to be. "It's bad for your back and you're no squirrel who could fit in a drawer," he informed him in a not too serious tone, squinting his eyes a bit, "But maybe there's something I don't know about you. Like your name, for example." He thought about the offer, looking around for the replicator. His first instinct was to refuse, but... "...I guess tea would be nice," he caved in. He deserved a cup of leaf water after such a long day, right?

"Well, you've got a point. And OH- Silly me! Name's Jack Bright, but you call me Bright." He grinned at him and bowed, exposing the cast on his broken leg for a moment. "And tea! Got it, what type of tea? Green tea, peach tea, anything of the type?" Bright questioned, his aura as electric as always.

"Saren Morvar. Pleasure to meet you," he nodded. Bright, huh. An oddly fitting name for this bouncy man... in a leg cast? He tilted his head, but didn't get a chance to take a second look at it. Huh... He looked up after the question, almost missing it entirely. "Non-toxic," came a deadpan answer, after which Saren immediately shook his head, "No, sorry, force of habit. Peach is fine." He stayed at the couch, watching Jack like a hawk, curious about what the man would do next. Just a normal Romulan thing to do.

Bright quirked an eyebrow and chuckled loudly, shaking his head. "Relax, i won't poison you! I wouldn't poison my roommate, or well... Anyone, honestly." He hopped over to the replicator and got some peach tea for Saren, making sure that everything was perfect and that he could see everything he was doing.

Now he could see the other leg, and that definitely was a cast with which Jack was hopping around like an injured epohh. While handling liquid. Oh no. "Was that a work accident?" he asked, now coming closer to Jack, "I am no medical expert, but I don't think you should be moving this much..." What a sound advice, coming from a man who was a notoriously difficult patient in both the home colony and in the Flotilla and rarely listened to medical advice - but hey, that's besides the point. Saren kept his face carefully neutral.

"Yyyyup. Broke it in the tubes, apparently it was very bad so i got it in this cast. Hopefully I'll have it removed by next week with the help of the doctors, and I'll have to rest it for a month! Thank goodness i only stay in like... Three places." He snorted and turned to him, quirking an eyebrow. "And relaaaax! I'm fine, don't worry. It almost doesn't hurt! Almost."

"Uh-huh," came a dry reply, the Romulan's face flowing into a more sceptical expression, "It usually heals faster with less movement, though." This was... eerily familiar to some interactions with his siblings. Stubborn little things, they were so very smart, but so very stupid sometimes. Saren didn't know if it was stubborness, obliviousness, or simply disregard in this human's case. It didn't really matter to him - it wasn't personal, but his fellow officer was pretty much endangering himself. "I strongly recommend you to sit down, I can handle this myself. Trust me." there was an unspoken... something in his voice. He lowered his head, still watching Jack. Expressing concern for someone's wellbeing with a vague threat? That's just Saren for you.

His eyes widened slightly, but he just chuckled and did as told. Sitting down on one of the couches available, he continued curiously observing Saren as he made his way about, all of this while a thought ran rampant in his head. Why was he worried? About him? Nobody worried about Bright if he wasn't on the brink of death, or that's what he's always thought.

He would manhandle this lanky dumbass into medical self-care if he didn't comply, zero hesitation - not the best way to make a first impression to his roommate, but Saren would rather do that than allow Jack the risk of screwing up the good doctor's work, or worse, getting a new bump. But the redhead did listen, to which he made an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat, satisfied. Good. No tripping and bashing heads open, not in these quarters, nope. "Fantastic, now stay there," he turned to the replicator. "...Need anything?"

"You remind me of my older brother. Brings good memories." Bright told Saren and smiled kindly at him, pushing up his glasses out of pure instinct. "Also, yeah I'd like something! But only if you're willing to, of course. Don't want to make a bad impression by making you my handler." He chuckled, his good leg bouncing like crazy. "But mind if I ask for a hot chocolate?"

"...Huh? Older brother? What do you..." ...oh shit. But he was acting like an older brother. The instincts came so naturally to him, Saren simply didn't catch himself slipping into the familiar role. "...Ah. Perhaps because I am," he shrugged. "For two, what humans would call "hellspawns". But that's just how Romulan kids are, really." He nodded at the request, and soon two cups appeared. He offered one to Jack, holding it so their hands didn't touch. "And you're the youngest, then?"

Bright snorted loudly at Saren's 'hellspawns' joke, covering his face and laughing. "PFFFTT— Oh man, that's rich!! Forgive me, but that seriously caught me by surprise." He gave him a grin before taking the cup, nodding in an attempt to say thanks. "And I'm the second oldest, out of four brothers. It was hell for me, not gonna lie!"

He hid his own smirk in a sip of his tea. "You laugh now, human, but you will remember my words if you ever meet one," the possibility was low, but maybe one day. For all he knew his siblings could visit the starbase, either by pestering their parents enough times, or by getting here on their own. The latter realistically was a very unlikely option, but Saren knew better than to underestimate those two... He hummed at Jack's words: "Was it bad? I don't have the, hm, younger sibling perspective. Always was the oldest, as a firstborn. I think partially because of that many perceive me older than I am."

"Hey, mine can also pop up at any time unnoticed, but that'd harder because my parents hate me." He noted and took a sip of his hot chocolate, having a lil chocolate mustache now. "And not really! Of course i was the middle child and less favorite, but that made things.... Eh, fun sometimes."

Oof. Oof. Saren was astounded. This human was so painfully open with him, so honest, saying personal things with such ease, something that this Romulan could never really learn to do. This was something that always fascinated him about this species, the openness that some of them had. Jack's words did leave an impression on him - Saren was not soulless, this fellow was a stranger but he still could feel for him - but his expression didn't betray it, it was schooled into something you could call "neutral concern". "That is... rough," he finally said, eyes trained on the tea. "I am a person for whom family is very important, so what you're telling me is very unusual for me." It sounded pleasant, but if you considered that Saren's family was basically all he had... It was time to switch the subject. "Nonetheless, now you're here, doing science. Speaking of that, the nebula mission is supposed to begin soon, when the ships arrive." Ah, yes, very smooth, good job roleplayer.

Bright chuckled softly and nodded in response to Saren's remark and empathy. He was indeed very open because he often had no one to talk to, and he was sometimes brutally honest with himself-- Therefore pouring all his weak spots out. It wasn't because he was open for the hell of it, it was because he was desperate. But like he'd ever let that out in the public, no sirrreee. But changing the subject, he nodded and smiled softly, "I know! Even with a broken leg, I'm excited to see what things we'll discover."

"Oh, you're also go- hopping along?" he lifted an eyebrow. It did make sense, when there was a research mission the scientists would be the first in line to volunteer. He wasn't so sure if it was a good idea, considering Jack's leg, but there probably would be at least one medical officer tagging along, so it would be... fine. Probably. Hopefully? "I am too. Anything could be hiding in those clouds," he said with a very serious face, "We have to wait and see, I guess. It will be my first real mission, so I don't have much experience to speak from."

"Hey, if I hopped my way from the hospital ring to my quarters, i can probably hop over there too." He smacked his own leg to show how STRONK he was, but he only let out a quiet 'ouch' followed by snort-giggling.

"That is true, I suppose," he answered while making a mental note to keep watch over this chaotic man when they get on the ship - ju-u-ust to be safe. He was good at multitasking: "Do you need to get ready or you're good to go?" He looked back at his tea - what was left of it - and drank it down. Peach, huh. Not a bad choice...

"I just need some things and I'll be good to go!" He got up and once again disregarded medical advice, hopping into his room and shoving all of the objects he used daily into a bag, along with a coat because who knew if the ship would be cold.

Saren shook his head, his gaze following Jack's bouncy form until he disappeared back into his room. Then he went into his own living space to do the same, methodically collecting his personal belongings into a small bag. After giving it some thought he then sent a short message to his family, informing them about the mission. The feeling of excitement finally caught up to him, making him pace a bit. Soon it was time to go. "Ready?" he asked loudly, exiting his room with a confident face.

Bright soon came out with a satchel on his side, headphones around his neck and music player neatly strapped to the collar of his uniform. Hell, he was even wearing his special glasses! Square lenses and golden frame? That was for the special occasions. "So! Let's get going, then?"

He looked Jack over, noticing the glasses. Hm. Fancy. Jack's own way to get ready for the mission, maybe? "Indeed," he nodded, "we should go." The door swished open, and Saren exited into the #middle-section-i-corridor, bag in hand and a determined glint in his eyes.

And he hopped right after, carrying his stuff like an old legless lady!

[PADD] From: Lt. JG. Emin Jessil TO: @Bright┊Konstantin┊Wheatley Ensign Jack Bright

Hey there, Bright! It's Jes, I just want to say thanks for being so supportive and brave back on the planet. I'm glad you were there with me, and thanks for getting the information that I couldn’t when I had a concussion...even though you lost your hand and everything! Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks (again, I know) and good job. You did great today. - Jes

️

Walking into his quarters after his surgery, Bright took a deep breath and looked down at his new cybernetic hand. It looked amazing, having a nice iridescent and glittery look to it combined with the silver color and so much more! Fully waterproof, connected to his nerves, it was like a normal hand but 10 times cooler. He lightly moved his fingers around as he walked into his quarters and took off his uniform shirt. With a loud groan, he cracked his back with a loud and painful sound as he laid down on his bed and took off his glasses. "Man... I missed this fuckin bed so much..."

Not even 10 minutes later, Bright was absolutely unconscious. He was all cozy within a large heated blanket and my god, he was snoring so loud.

Snoooooooore.

After sleeping for what seemed to be ages, Bright finally woke up from his wild ass dream and jolted up, scrambling around with the blanket before he just fell on the floor and exclaimed out in pain, "FUCK!" He hoped Saren wasn't hearing him after that.

Bright groaned and slowly pulled himself back up, glad he hadn't lost a leg (or both) in the crash before he finally went on to get himself ready for the day. He went on to take a shower and actually wake up, but it soon turned into a chaotic mess because he forgot his towel. Okay, no big deal, he'd just go on and grab it since his private quarters were locked anyway, even having a note to anybody who'd try to call him in one way or other: 'If i don't answer i didn't die, I'm just asleep! - Jack Bright :P' along with a pretty crude drawing of himself fallen on the floor. So being blind as hell, disoriented and naked on top of it all, he skittered around his room and grabbed the towel before skittering back. Because god DAMN it was cold.

12:19

And when everything was sorted out, he grabbed his fucked up satchel and walked out of his quarters to get ready for another day at the station.

Quietly he entered the quarters, careful not to disturb Bright in case he was sleeping or otherwise resting. Saren stopped in the middle of the living room, head tilted, listening to the sounds of their living space. Pointy ears picked up... nothing, from the redhead's side. Huh. Was he away? It didn't mean that it was dead quiet, though. Faintly he heard some beeping, coming from his side. A message, he realized, brows furrowing. From who? He approached the computer with caution, as if expecting it to explode or jump him. After a bit of stalling, Saren opened the message. The words "HELLOOO, SON!!" greeted him. "Uh-oh."

To: Saren ir-Llaiir tr'Morvar HELLOOO, SON!! I have some great news to share with you! Our big project on Mol'Rihan is nearly finished - we will be done with it in one work week if less. The lovely interns were a fantastic addition to our team and their assistance sped up our process greatly! Following this success, I made a decision - as soon as we are done, I am going on a well-earned and long overdue vacation. Which means that I will finally have an opportunity to visit you! Unfortunately only I can come - Arinn is rather busy right now. There were some medical emergencies that she now has to take care of, you know what a caring and genius and absolutely amazing doctor your mother is, and the twins have some important lessons to study for their exams. I will be extra careful not to accidentally smuggle them onto the starbase! Of course, if it's not possible for me to come for any reason, you should immediately tell me while I can still change my plans. But I do hope that it will be fine! I can't wait to see you again with my own two eyes, dear. Till we meet, Talai i-Dartha tr'Morvar

"Oh dear..." exhaled Saren, palm over his mouth while he re-read the text. Two conflicting feelings rose in him. There was the child-like happiness because his father could finally visit him, a dear person who he hasn't seen in so long and it will be good and fantastic and he totally wasn't hiding a nervous smile - not a smirk, a smile! - under his palm. And then there was the dawning terror of "fucking hell, his father is coming to the starbase". The world's most unintimidating Romulan was going to visit this place in all of his 5'6 glory, and while Talai had not a single violent or deceptive bone in his body, he had other terrifying characteristics - and utter unpredictability was one of them. His twin siblings were the family's mischievous ones. But they had to get it from someone. "I am so not ready for this," he bemoaned to a rat's skull on his shelf. "Computer, send a response to this glorious bastard of a man..."

To: Talai i-Dartha tr'Morvar Sure. Just send me information of when you arrive and I will meet you. And yes, please be very careful while packing your bags, you know how they are. Also, don't forget to check your pockets. Till next time, Saren ir-Llaiir tr'Morvar

(edited)

He gave Bright his best Eyebrow of Scrutiny look - not as good as a Vulcan one, but still scrutinizing enough. Saren wasn't good at navigating through the tubes, sure, but if this fool of a man will try to do his stupid little no sleep marathon again... he will find the way to catch Jack. He hoped that the need won't occur soon, though. "You invented a rock glitter bomb?" he asked half-jokingly, turning on the lights in the bathroom. "Does the Chief Science Officer know about that one?" (edited)

"Yeah, so.... I kind of discovered it." He dusted himself off as he walked into the bathroom, leaning onto the sink and crossing his arms. "That's what I was doing when you kidnapped me." He chuckled, quirking an eyebrow as he took off his glittery shirt.

"Ah. So, an accidental invention of the rock glitter bomb," there was a smile in his voice. But he turned away from the bathroom, his back facing Bright - something that would never happen if he would be interacting with his brethren - looking at something in the middle of the living area. He was giving the redhead some privacy, it seemed. Or hiding his face. Or both. "No worries, you can resume your colourful research as soon as you rest."

"Not really, no! I just so happened to discover it was HIGHLY reactive to water, and accidentally dropped a bit of water onto it." He replied as if he didn't put the sample into his cup of water by accident. "And fiiiiine. Guess I can rest."

"I wonder how that happened..." he trailed off, tone of his voice innocent. He turned back around and nodded at Bright: "I trust you won't create an accidental explosion in a bath and I can leave you to yourself? I'll be in my room, though, so shout if you need something. I will most certainly hear that. Deal?"

"Mmmhmm..." He whistled innocently, but turned to him and nodded back as he gave an artificial hand thumbs up. "Will do! And besides, I'd rather not end up with another round of multicolored dust all over my face."

"Good. Have a nice rest, then." Slowly he made his way back to his side of the quarters, mind already going at warp speed, trying to digest what just occurred. Now the mental note of keeping an eye on his roommate zoomed up on his list, becoming one of his top priorities. The human's behaviour was worrying, and it was Saren's moral obligation to at least try and keep him from the trouble. And himself. Still refusing to admit that he was concerned for his friend like a normal, good person, Saren decided to rest for a bit, too. He was still on alert, though, carefully listening for any disturbances. Just in case.

Jack, after taking his long ass shower, was now tuning his violin as he stared out the window into deep space. A sight that has always inspired him since he was young, where he would just lay down and stare at the night sky until he fell asleep. Within the moment of inspiration, he took a deep breath and began playing his favorite and most complicated piece. Fantasia on a Theme, by Vaughan Williams and Thomas Tallis. Instead of a full orchestra, it was played by a lone violin.

14:54

Not far from reality, was it?

Wonder what would happen if someone walked in on him.

[D] And walk in on him someone did, though Jack probably wasn't expecting it to be an unfamiliar face. Talai stepped in, his steps slow and silent, green eyes quickly finding the violinist. The man stayed quiet, waiting for the redhead to finish playing, head tilted, arms behind his back, eyes trained on the human's arms as Jack went on. After that, the older Romulan applauded him, careful to make the sound soft as to not to startle him: "Beautiful playing there," he complimented with a smile, hands hidden into his pockets. "What's the name of this piece?" Then, suddenly realizing his mistake, he gave a sheepish sort of laugh: "Oh, I apologize for the lack of my manners! My name's Talai Morvar. I think you can guess by my name why I'm here."

Poor Jack almost threw his violin upward as he whipped around to stare at Talai, his eyes wide with surprise as he quickly put it down onto his bed. "AH- O-oh! Oh! Hey, uh... Hi! Thank you! And it's called Fantasia on a Theme, by Vaughan Williams and Thomas Tallis.... Wait. Wait, hold up. Morvar?-" The pieces began clicking in his dumdum head as he gasped, "Wait! You're a parent of Saren? I'm his roommate!-" Trying his best to be courteous, Jack brought his only remaining hand forward for a handshake. "I'm Jack, Jack Bright."

"His father, yes," Talai's smile widened as the man nodded. The juxtaposition between the younger Morvar - tall, pointy, usually scowling - and his father - short, round, almost always smiling - was palpable. "Pleasure to meet you..." he blinked at the outstretched hand. It was easy to forget how tactile and forward humans could be. Nonetheless, Talai took the redhead by his wrist, where the skin was covered with a sleeve, and gave him a hearty shake, "... Jack Bright. Jolan tru. A roommate, you say? Are you two friends, then?" Ah yes, another person to gently semi-interrogate. Talai wanted to make sure that his boy was surrounded by good people. This human didn't bring him any bad feelings, though - and he also remembered that Saren had mentioned him in his letters. Briefly, probably out of that irrational Romulan protectiveness.

Jack grinned and pulled away soon after, "You're his dad?! That's so cool!! Again, it's a pleasure to meet you, sir!" He happily replied, showing that he didn't have any prejudice at all towards anyone. At the other questions, he didn't even hesitate to explain out, "Yeah, we're roommates! And friends too, i think. I'm still getting used to having those!" He chuckled, lightly rubbing the back of his head.

Still was getting used to? His left eyebrow went up a millimeter. "Don't sell yourself short, boy, many would consider befriending a Romulan quite the achievement," Talai half-joked as he shoved his hands into pockets and glanced around the room, "especially the one who is a self-proclaimed, what was the word that he uses... asshole?" Ah yes, time to lovingly roast his son's unwillingness to admit he's not the self-deprecating self-image that he's stubbornly still using, for some reason. Well, that was a bit unfair. Talai knew the reason, but that didn't make the whole nine year long situation any better. But the station - more accurately, the people on it - seemed to be changing that. Slowly, but surely. "Anyways! You're a scientist too, right? If I understood correctly," he turned his gaze back towards Bright, eyes curious, head tilted.

"Yup! I think Saren is one of my first and only friends here, and... Well, if he dragged me all the way here after going on a workaholic spree, I'd say that i think he's a good friend." He chuckled and sat down next to his violin, made out of Tibetan cherry tree and decorated with the ribbon-like bark at the edges. "And Saren? An asshole? I don't see that, he's pretty nice!" He sighed softly and adjusted his glasses, looking back at Talai when he questioned him. "Hm? Oh, yes I am! I'm a geologist, even though being a geologist in space is.... Er, not too useful."

He looked back at his bed and saw the purple blanket he... ehem, borrowed, from the last alien planet he unceremoniously crashed into along with the others. Now it was all clean and repaired, since it's now seeing the better days once again. A memento of how much of a dumbass he could be.

"Ah, so we're in agreement on that!" he laughed, rolling his eyes. "Unfortunately he's got a, hm... a different opinion on that. You won't mind if I?.." He jerked his head, nodding his chin towards the nearest seat. He felt himself like a guest, at least for now. "But I'm glad that my son's doing fine. Letting a young Romulan boy to go join Starfleet was... scary, to say it lightly. But seeing it turning out alright for him and even doing Saren some good... well, I can't ask for more." He then rested his head on his palm, a questioning look on his face: "Not too useful? Well I'm not so sure of that, Bright. Sure, you don't go voyaging for new planets much, but I don't believe that your professional skills are useless." He had a nagging feeling that the redhead was being a bit too harsh to himself.

"Yup! And yeah, unfortunately so... Also, oh! Of course, go ahead!" He immediately went over and pulled a seat for Talai, going over to sit back down on his bed. "And I'm glad you let him, really. I joined Starfleet without a dad, so he's really lucky to have you as one. You seem really nice." Jack smiled brightly, but it was slightly bittersweet. "And I dunno, being a geologist in the middle of deep space is... It's like being a cartographer in a blank room. There's nothing to do according to what your profession is." He sighed, fiddling with his prosthetic hand.

He plopped down on the seat with a satisfied sigh, hands on his knees, head supported by a fist. Comfy. Not as comfy as some Romulan furniture, but it was satisfying nonetheless, especially after the trip all the way from Mol'Rihan. "Really nice? Ah, you wouldn't say that if you saw me ten... maybe fifteen, years ago," he scratched his stubble slowly, unsure. "I am trying to be better at this parent business here. Judging by the fact that all my kids still talk to me... I have somewhat succeeded." Maybe if he was better back then, Saren would turn out... a bit different. With less fears and insecurities, and his worldview unshattered. But that Talai was young himself, unexperienced and full of grief. All he could do now... is be better and be there, really. The man blinked, chasing those thoughts away. "I could bring you some New Romulus rocks. I dig up plenty of those," he offered half-heartedly. He had zero ideas what a Starfleet officer could do with them, but it wasn't up to him to figure out.

Jack scoffed loudly and leaned forward before speaking out, "Hey, my dad tried to shoot me in various occasions when I went to visit my siblings without him knowing. I'd say you're a pretty cool dad." He chuckled, but his leg was bouncing up and down in nervousness. Even remembering it gave him the chills. But just like he chased the thoughts away, so did Bright as his eyes lit up, "Wait, seriously?! Oh, hell yeah! I'd like those! I've got a few collections, so every single specimen is gonna be added to my catalogue."

A pregnant pause. "...Ah-hah, I'm sorry, your father tried to do what?" he asked, tone sweet like cyanide. Were Saren here, he would quickly recognize the less warm, suddenly toothy shape that Talai's smile was subtly morphing into, as the "oh shit, dad's getting pissed" sign. "Is he not present at this station, by chance? I would lo-o-ove a word." Yep, this boy's definitely going to get a rock package (rockage, heh) from him. And maybe some adoption papers, as a bonus. "I'll see what I can do, then!" he nodded, "Anything will do? Or are you looking for, hm, minerals, for example?" He could also offer some burial serv- nooooo no no no, Talai, you don't do that, that is your shitty father's way of solving problems. Even if it's a very, very tempting idea.

"Yeah... It wasn't fun. He doesn't really like me, after all." Jack answered, but didn't immediately recognize the signs that Romu-dad was going to commit a crime. I mean, Bright wouldn't exactly mind if he wanted to (or did), but oh well- "And well- If he were on the station, god help me because one of us would leave dead. And I'm not exactly the best fighter. Hey, at least he'd finish the job instead of further scarring me..." He chuckled sadly, his smile dropping a little. But when he heard the second question, he hummed softly in thought and lightly scratched his own stubble, "Well, uh... Oh boy. I have no clue- But I'm not picky, so you can send anything in store."

Actually screw that, maybe murder is okay. Sometimes. "Do tell me if he ever pops up again or something is bothering you, hm? I wouldn't mind assisting," he mused, words purposefully cryptic. Romulans were usually okay with such things, humans though? It... depended. The thoughtful hum immediately reminded Talai of his own son. Slowly the grimace started to fade away. Instead the older Romulan let out a soft chuckle at Bright's indecisiveness: "Ah well. Then I'll see what I can find. Do you mostly do your work here, on the station? I am a bit unfamiliar with how they function, to be honest."

[D] His room was the same as he left it. Which was an... unsurprising, logical fact, but Saren's mind still made a notice of it, for some inexplicable reason. A weird feeling of "home-but-not-quite-home" settled in, because while this was unmistakably his living space, it felt a bit... alien, after a full house of people. Maybe it was so because of his first official shore leave, he thought, moving to start unpacking his bags. While sorting, he occasionally would shift his eyes to look at the foot of his bed, on which the plushie was residing. Stomach ache, huh... Curiosity got the better of Saren, as he sat on his haunches in front of the toy, looking it dead in it's six beady, red eyes. Was this riddle as simple as it sounded, or did his siblings go for an overcomplicated route? He found his answer quickly, as he squeezed the purple-pink belly, only to feel something hard and... box shaped? inside of it. Saren furrowed his brows, because no way was he picking up a pair of scissors and undoing the carefully done stitches on this thing, and felt around a bit more, until eventually... "Ah. Of course." He opened it's sabletoothed jaws, discovering a pocket. Trust the tiny gremlins to hide something inside of a cute plush. Soon he pulled out the small wooden box, discovering two letters inside of it, together with a... something, ominously covered with a cloth. One of the letters had "READ THIS FIRST" written on it, so Saren did just that: 777_divider

It was written in what was unmistakably his brother's neat handwriting:

Jolan tru! We assume that if you're reading this letter, you're already back on the station and have found our gift. So, yay on that, good job science man! We decided to go easy on you, but ONLY THIS TIME. You should see what's under the cloth next! Trust us, you'll like it. Mom and Dad helped out, by the way! We're totally saying that just in case. Yes. We will visit you as soon as we can, that's a promise! And a threat! All of us miss you, big brother, but we're also really proud of you. Like come on, we now have bragging rights that our sibling is a Starfleet officer >:) Please be safe, and good luck. Until we meet again! Kalub and Ravana

He... totally wasn't going to get emotional over this. But what about the second letter? Saren re-read their note and discovered a footnote:

P.S. Oh! About the letter - keep it. Maybe one day you will discover a need to read it.

Okay... he put it aside, for now, and slowly lifted the cloth, his eyes widening as he realized what was lying inside the box: "What the hell?.."

While Saren had just returned from his shore leave, Jack... Never actually left. He had stayed in the station all this time, and his private quarters were stuffed to the brim with plants. He had taken a slight break from rocks and was honing his previous skills in botany, once his grandmother was a botanist and taught him everything she knew. There were sunflowers, azaleas, roses, alpine forget-me-nots, hydrangeas, and he seemed... Happier, doing all this. It wasn't just to keep him company, but to also keep him inspired to go on even if he was technically all alone. He was happy.

[D] He stormed into his quarters and made a beeline towards the bathroom, practically diving head first into the sink; ice cold water hit his nape, going down his arms and shoulders and seeping into his hair, the freezing sensation pulling him back into reality. Except it didn't, because Saren was imagining Irok, who was visiting Remus; the cruel wind hitting him, reminding him that he was unwelcome and unwanted here. Just like his grandson was, with that dirt in his veins he dared to call blood. He found another person, another family his kin has wronged, another one out of the tens and hundreds. Was that the reason Alizati invited him? Was it really just android's curiosity, or was it a form of revenge from the Kota? Saren turned off the water and slowly lifted himself up, forearms shaking. No, it wasn't. He didn't know. Alizati just wanted answers, but Saren gave him none. He ran away instead, like a true coward, leaving the man alone there. Gods, he wasn't even that religious, but he prayed that Tiravurik was nowhere near them in the end. He took off his shirt and shoes and stumbled blindly towards his room, seeking shelter. He found it under his blankets, where he hid away from the world, curling up on his good side and hoping that no nightmares would come to taunt him.

After getting no replies from his messages, Renakir thought to take it upon himself to check on his beloved Dinam. He had just finished up his zen garden for Tiravurik and taken a nap so here he was, grey sweatpants that matched his skin tone and some Space Addidas slides because why not. He wasn't wearing a shirt but he didn't think he needed to if he was just walking down the corridor to section 1. His hair was a bit of a mess, but he was expecting this visit to be brief. Of course he had his sunglasses on too, gotta hide from the light. He chimed the bell and awaited a response, really hoping Saren was in his quarters. Renakir made sure to double check the duty roster to make sure the scientist wasn't at work and he was worrying for nothing.

No response. Though, Renakir, thanks to his hearing, could've probably heard some weird sounds coming from the other side - something falling and then hurried footsteps, not quite running, but clearly fleeing. Someone was trying to pretend that the quarters were empty.

Renakir was no human and as much as he hated his floppy ears, they were more sensitive than a normal Vulcanoid's and could clearly pick up the sounds coming from inside the room. He chimed the buzzer once again before gently knocking at the door. "Dinam," He said softly, knowing that his Romulan friend would easily be able to recognise his voice. The low and soft pitch of the Romulan-Reman officer was unmistakable, especially when speaking his native Rihannsu. Something was wrong, he knew there was something. Just like Saren didn't abandon him when he needed help on Mol'Rihan, it was time for him to return the favour.

"--I'm fine, I'm fine," his voice came through, a pathetic attempt at mimicking his usually even tone. He sounded choked up, voice wavering as the man behind the door clearly was trying really, really hard to hold his shit together. "I'm fine, Renakir. I'm just, uh, not in a mood to talk to anyone..." Then there was the sound of a soft thump, as if Saren let his head fall against the door. "You have to believe me. You... don't want to see me like this."

"Dinam," Renakir repeated after he heard the other's wavering tone from the other side of the door. He was about to take another step closer to the door when he heard a thumping noise. Now he was very worried. He placed a hand against the door, as if Saren could even see what he was doing. Breathe in, breathe out, he closed his eyes and thought for a moment before responding. "Remember on Mol'Rihan? Let me help you like you helped me," There was no forcing Saren to talk if he really didn't want to, but at the same time he couldn't just leave his friend alone. Time was standing still at that very moment. All the other people in the corridor had melted away. There was a metal door between them, but perhaps true proof of the power of Romulan brotherhood, Renakir could feel the other's presence as if they were standing beside each other. "Please, you don't have to do this alone. Let me help," His voice was a little more than a whisper, a volume only a Vulcanoid could hear.

Again, no response. Instead, the doors swooshed open, revealing the darkness inside and inviting Renakir in. As soon as the Romulan-Reman man stepped inside, they closed behind him. There was movement, and if Renakir would follow it, he would soon find his friend's room - filled up with books, trinkets, and some very, very dead things. And inside was one very, very sad Romulan. Saren stood in the middle of it all, looking very lost in his own bedroom. His hair, all dryed up by that time, had a slight curl to them as it drooped down into his glassy eyes. He had his blanket wrapped around him like a giant scarf, a very feeble attempt at self-soothing. "'ey," he croaked out, wincing at how his own voice sounded. "I'm not... I... yeah." He sighed, realizing that this was it. This was the day Renakir would learn the truth, and Saren would hurt his friend. He was on a streak of fuck-ups, wasn't he? "I spoke with our Chief of Engineering. He... told me a few things," Saren looked away. "And... fuck, this is hard, Renakir, I don't wanna do this!" He grabbed at his head, gesture almost... violent. He tried to sleep all of this off, but to no avail. And now his dinam was here, an eyewitness to all of this shitshow, and Saren almost had the energy to feel ashamed, were he not too preoccupied, dealing with all the other feelings that threatened to rip him apart.

As soon as the doors opened, Renakir lifted his hands and stepped back. As if fearing the other would sink into the floor he darted inside and heard a loud swoosh as the doors closed behind him. What he saw was not his typical paranoid friend with the deep eye bags and messy hair, but instead a vulnerable and disheveled boy who could barely squeak out words to say. It was strange, Renakir had never felt so compelled to hug another person (well, maybe except Eshen). However he was smart enough not to act on this desire and instead let his eyes, obscured by dark sunglasses, scan over the scene in front of him. The room was far from plain, covered with various books and knickknacks. It was truly the quarters of a Romulan scientist, that's for sure. The Romulan-Reman's expression didn't change when met with the sight of his friend standing in a blanket at the centre of the room. "Dinam? Dinam," Renakir took a step closer to Saren and extended his arms, careful not to get too close but Tenakruvek be damned he wanted to hold him so badly. "The chief engineer?" What did he have anything to do with this? Renakir did not know much about him or why his dinam would be talking about the android. "You can tell me. Dinam, can I hold you?" Saren hugged him that one time and it helped. Looking at his dinam's glossed over eyes, the way he pulled at his hair, were his eye bags darker? When was the last time he slept? When did he last eat? Renakir's body language was cautious, scared that one wrong move could send the boy in front of him into a spiral of emotions.

"You-- no-- no, you don't want to be close to me," Saren took a step back, shying away from Renakir and denying himself the embrace, a wet sound escaping his lips - something between a sob and a self-deprecating laugh. "Were you not taught to not touch filth?" He paced a circle, not unlike a caged animal would, arms gesturing around: "Alizati. He's half Romulan. He rediscovered some memories, and," he was interrupted by himself bumping his knee into his bed. He didn't react much, continuing his restless pacing, "and he talked to me. Because our families had... had interacted, at some point in the past." He swallowed down an anxious lump, eyes focusing back on Renakir. "Have you ever heard the name Lareth?" he asked quietly, clearly one question he didn't want to ask. Romulans were already an emotional species, sometimes even more than humans. And while Saren, while studying in the Academy, had learned how to mellow down and control himself, right then his calm, collected façade was slowly, gradually slipping away, revealing just how volatile one Romulan could be, jumping from one emotion to another.

"Dinam you're not..." Renakir began to say before he was cut off when his friend said the word filth. Saren-- no no. Was this how Renakir's friends felt whenever he would go on about being unattractive or shy away from compliments? Maybe this was why people like Allan and Eshen and Sauk always seemed to go out of their way to praise his abilities, even when performing seemingly mundane tasks. He was going to respect his Dinam's boundaries though, and so he backed up, allowing the other to pace around the room as he wished. "Our chief engineer is what?" Initially he was shocked, but then he remembered overhearing a conversation between the android and his roommate that one night. That's right, he somehow was half Romulan. "Actually nevermind, it's alright," He shook his head and took another step back when he noticed Saren was walking a little too close. He didn't mind being close, but Saren clearly needed his personal space. "Lareth?" Renakir had to think for a moment, his mind going through all the families he had learned about when he was on Rator III. "An honourable house, isn't it?" Although he may have not recognised the name specifically, it certainly was not new to him. As the only heir to the Torre'vnau family he had to know all of the powerful famlies, but it had been so long. "What about them?"

He desperately tried to focus himself on Renakir's voice, one thing different yet familiar enough to recognize as something much less harmful than his screaming thoughts and own racing heartbeat. Maybe he should ask the man to leave? He didn't need to see all of this, to bear witness to some asshole's gradual meltdown, why the fuck did Saren let him in in the first place? But Renakir deserved to know some truth about this liar he called his close friend, and Saren was going to deliver it. No more deception. He laughed at the mention of "honorable". A sudden, nervous sound. "Militaristic to the core, multiple of it's members proudly served the secret police," he nodded. "One of them was-- is-- fuck, he became the acting captain. While he was serving, his son chose to marry a woman from a smaller family, and he took her House name." Saren rested his hands on his forearms, feeling his palms shake with anxiety. "Now that man is helping build cities on Mol'Rihan. And his own son is talking to you." He went silent, unfocused gaze slipping down, down, to the ground, no longer able to stop speaking. "My ancestors were murderers. Murderers who were proud of that. I carry decades of unjustified violence and misdeeds in my blood, and every fucking time I see a Reman, or-- or anyone, really, I am reminded of that and I-- I just have to question myself, "could this person be someone who was hurt because of them?", and... I feel so guilty for deceiving you, I truly do, please believe me. I... hah, I am such a joke, aren't I?" He lifted his gaze back up at Renakir, and why was the man in front of him so blurry all of a sudden? "You know what's the kicker? I look almost identical to my dear grandfather. I was... not happy, to learn that. He was. I was... not."

Renakir's heart dropped when he hear the other laugh, there was certainly something wrong. He listened closely to what his dinam said, militaristic to the core, Tal shiar, oh that word was all too familiar to him. In fact probably the only crime the Torre'vnau family did not commit was be part of the unhinged murder team which was the Romulan Star Empire's secret police. He observed the other's body language, the way his hands shook, the look in his eyes, those dark green eyes that shined like stars as Renakir saw them through his sunglasses. Murderers. Now that was something that was unfortunately not uncommon amongst their people. Even his own father was a murderer. As far as he knew, he was probably the only... Well, he never committed murder as an adult. That's as much as he could say. "You didn't deceive me, I understand," He voice was soft, like lilies floating on water. The words poured from his lips as if he were reciting poetry. "Dinam," One step closer, two steps now. "I was born into a house made from the blood of thousands of Reman slaves, I don't think there is a single Romulan house without sin," Did Saren really think being from a Tal Shiar family was going to drive Renakir away? Renakir lived like a prince in a Romulan family, a family that was only powerful because of their exploitation of Reman slaves. 777_divider

07:45

"I am not mad, I am still proud to call you my Dinam. I don't care what you look like, you could look like Empress Sela and my feelings wouldn't change. You don't have to go through this alone," In an effort to show his trust, Renakir pulled off his sunglasses and put them in his pocket so he could look at Saren directly. The eyes were the window to the soul, right? Narrow silver eyes stared at Saren. Without his sunglasses his full expression could be seen. Green blush covered his cheeks with dark circles around his eyes, giving him a natural smoky eye effect. Even if they weren't touching, he hoped being able to look into his eyes would help Saren see that he was being honest and only wanted to comfort the boy he called Dinam.

As Renakir stepped closer Saren stood still and held his breath, expecting righteous fury or deep, cold disappointment, but... none of it came. "Why... why are you not mad?" he whispered, flabbergasted, searching for an answer in his dear friend's now uncovered eyes. He didn't find one, "Why are you... you're looking at a face of a criminal, why are you so calm?!" It was probably the first time Renakir heard Saren raise his voice. Deep down, in the rational part of his brain that currently was drowning under all the turmoil, Saren understood that Renakir would never react the way he expected him to. He was projecting his own feelings, anger being something that he understood much easier than forgiveness. Because, frankly, the one person who was never able to see past his ancestry and forgive him, was Saren himself. "Renakir," he grabbed the man by his forearms, mindless enough to forget about skin-on-skin contact, mindful enough to still be careful. "I exist as a walking reminder to all the people who've been wronged, Alizati, your-- for fuck's sake, even your own Reman father, he... looked at me like he knew me. And what if he did? Fuck, what... what if--" And that terrifying thought made him cry. "What if Irok hurt or-- or killed someone from your family? I won't be able to forgive myself, ever!" he wept, head hanging low to hide his face, "Oh dear Gods..."

*Why am I not mad? Renakir's inner monologue chimed in right after the question was asked. His light silver eyes blinked in disbelief as if Saren had just asked him to walk on the moon or fight off a squadron of Tal Shiar soldiers with his bare hands. Both things were impossible, of course, although a small part of Renakir's mind thought the latter could be possible if disruptors were legal within the Federation.* "Di.." He began to say before his voice trailed off as if all the words had been sucked right out of him. And then he heard the words, you're looking at a face of a criminal, followed by a gap of silence. A silence that somehow felt loud, it was as if he could hear Saren's inner monologue as if they were-- "Saren, Saren," It was the touch telepathy, it was certainly the touch telepathy. Renakir was only half Reman but Saren's emotions felt as real as his own. He looked down at where Saren was gripping his arm and then up to see his beloved dinam, weeping. "You are not Irok, you're more than your family name," He made no move to pull away, but he also did not make any move to get any closer. "Please, let me hold you," And maybe he could use his Reman telepathy to soothe his dinam's pain? "You're Saren ir-Llaiir tr'Morvar, and you are my Dinam," He spoke slowly, but firmly, as if he were trying to wake Saren up from some nightmare. "What if I told you-- my father is a murderer. He murdered his promised mate in cold blood in order to gain control of the Torre'vnau house," Renakir gently shook Saren. "And the eyes you see, these are his eyes."

When was the last time he cried like this? Just these hot tears streaming freely down his face, pained sobs stealing away his breath and making his marred side ache? Almost a decade ago, probably, right after the raid happened and Saren woke up, convinced he was in the afterlife. He finally gave in, letting go of Renakir to cover his face with both of his palms instead, and just leaned into the man, allowing the half-Reman to throw his hands around him. It was comfort, and it was support - the agitated, sleep-deprived Romulan felt his knees shake with the effort of keeping his body up. His friend's voice now almost surrounded him, piercing through the hazed, overwhelmed mind like an arrow; Saren listened, uneven breath hitching at the revelation of what Cerrub did. "He... too, did it for power," it was clear who Saren meant by his tone of voice. "And love. But not for us, or anyone really. Love for an idea of the perfect Romulan society, love for the system that corrupted him so much his own son - my father - barely recognized the man who... who cared so much for him in his childhood." Saren fell silent for a bit, trying to regain control over his breathing. "He's like a ghost. Like a real aehallh. I'm haunted by a man who may be alive, may be dead, and his location - his whole fucking ship - has yet to be found. Sometimes I feel like my birth was just some... karmic punishment. But I don't... I don't think I deserved one?" Renakir's chest was probably wet with tears. Saren made an attempt at wiping his eyes, but the motion was proven useless. "Do you want to know... and see... what happened on Llaiir Prime?" he whispered, "I... haven't told anyone about it. Properly." Only bits and pieces, carefully censored and ripped out of context so that people he entrusted this information with couldn't puzzle his story together into something comprehensive. He never told anyone the whole tale. Only Saren and his parents knew.

As if he could see the future, Renakir was right there to catch Saren when he fell forward into his arms. Wide shoulders and muscular arms wrapped around the shorter Romulan, holding him steady. The warmth from his dinam's tears felt like boiling water on his much colder bare chest, but it was worth it to be able to provide the younger comfort. Perhaps it was their difference in body heat or maybe it was his touch telepathy, but it felt like bolts of electricity were coursing through his veins as the other spoke. He kept his breath steady and h is body still as if he was a comforting rock with arms holding Saren. Hearing about what Irok did made Renakir's Reman blood boil. How could someone be so blindly loyal to the state? He knew the answer, the Tal Shiar was not a force to be reckoned with, but he also felt anger for Saren. He had a thousand generations of Reman rage flowing through every inch of his body and hell-- he would not hesitate to unleash it if Irok even dared to come near his dinam. "You didn't deserve it, you don't deserve it, you're a different man," Renakir's voice was low and soft sending vibrations throughout his body that Saren could probably feel. He looked at the man still sobbing in his arms with a sympathetic smile. His grey skin was now covered in spots of green where they were touching matching the green blush across his cheeks. The bond between a Reman and a Romulan in the form of a comforting embrace was certainly something for the history books. "Yes. Please, Dinam, you can tell me everything," If he had touch telepathy, could they mind meld? He didn't think he had enough skill to even attempt such a feat. However just holding Saren like this he already felt like they were of one mind. Ever sob, every tear, he felt it not just on his skin but in his mind.

((TW: discussion of scars, physical assault on a child)) Renakir was cool to touch, much cooler than any other Vulcanoid. A small relief for a feverish Romulan, to whom his too small room was too hot and too stuffy and just-- too much. Later, when Saren regains himself, he would probably apologize for his behavior. Or, maybe he won't. "We were driven away because of a raid," he started hesitantly, voice muffled. "That's... that's when I met him." "I ran to see if my siblings were all right, not knowing that my parents have already found them and brought to safety. Irok found me, instead. He... spoke to me gently, immediately recognizing me as kin. Promised to not hurt anyone if I... come along with him. That he would... show me, the proper Romulan way. That I had potential." There was a vacant look on Saren's face as his voice evened out. Some part of him was reliving his story. "He offered his hand to me, and I noticed blood on his gloves. I became so... scared, and just livid, I started shouting at him, hoping that it'll alert someone nearby, or... or anything, really. But Irok didn't like that. He... became so disappointed, so angry. So, so angry." 777_divider

14:01

Saren took a step back - and immediately missed his dinam's comforting embrace. But he did so to turn sideways, as he lifted the blanket and cloth to reveal his scars. They ran diagonally across his side, big and shiny and jagged, curling around his torso all the way down to his hip. Those were not mindless, aggressive slashes, but deliberate, calculated cuts, made by someone who knew how to use a blade. "He left me on the ground there, bleeding out in the grass, surrounded by the forest and stars. Everything faded into darkness. Then I woke up in a infirmary of the survivor's ship, my mother at my side," he told, fingers tracing the smallest scar: "They had... they had to pull out a piece of the knife. Out of this one." Saren let his hands drop, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "That is how it started. That's what... made me into what I am. And I've been trying to enter Zhal Makh, multiple times now, to find answers and-- and work around the memory, but to no avail. I try to not feel guilt around Remans, but... I just can't. Because that would be... unfair, to people who were hurt. At the same time, there is nothing I can do to atone."

Like the winds in Guilin rushing through the valley, a similar rush of emotions swept over Renakir as he listened to his Dinam pour his heart out in the form of stuttered Rihannsu. 'A raid', Renakir briefly recalled when he first met Saren and the other mentioned the sound of a decloaking warbird. Was this that event? His silver eyes stayed fixed on Saren's as the other looked at him with an empty gaze. He had never seen such a lost and distant expression before, not since... Just as he was about to tighten his hold on Saren, the other pulled away and Renakir dropped his arms. The scar along his dinam's side was old, but it was as clear as night to his highly sensitive Reman eyes. He saw just how it seemed to miss any vital organs, Irok was good, he thought. Romulans were skilled with knives, that was a stereotype that was not too far off from reality. As his concern grew deeper his brows furrowed and his mouth pulled into a frown. That bastard, was all that ran through the Romulan-Reman's mind as he clenched his jaw his fingers curled into fists. 777_divider

14:30

As soon as his brain could tell his mouth to open to speak he said, "In Tenakruvek's name... Dinam," Eyes wide and mouth slightly open now, he unclenched his fists and now the only emotion left on his face was worry... Maybe fear, fear that his Dinam was fighting an enemy he could not beat. How does one fight something that exists only in your mind? That only you can see? "You did nothing wrong. If anything you did everything right. To say no, to turn away, to survive, that is what it means to be Romulan. Dinam, please, don't blame yourself for that man's wrongs, you already beat him by being alive right now-- by being a Romulan in Starfleet. You don't have to do this alone, I am here," He took a deep breath through his nose and opened his arms once again, inviting Saren into another embrace. Even though the other's body was significantly warmer than his own, he did not dislike it. In fact, he enjoyed the closeness. Grey skin, long fingers with black nails contrasting with his Dinam's dark hair and green tinted skin, hugging was a new form of connection for him, but he was beginning to like it.

He preferred to hide the scars - such careful, clearly man-made pattern of them would definitely raise questions, the kind that Saren was not comfortable, nor ready, to answer. Seeing Renakir's stormy expression - the man was probably murdering Irok in his mind right now - made Saren feel... weirdly grateful. Grateful for empathy, for understanding the story these marks told. Scars were something that many cultures wore with pride. Symbols of survival and reminders of great battles. Once, someone called them "beautiful", leaving Saren confused about that adjective. For him, they just... existed, stripes over his skin, seven links to his past. Sometimes numb, sometimes hurting, when a bad memory resurfaced. He woke up, he went to sleep, they always stayed there. Renakir opened his arms. He gladly accepted the invitation, this time hugging his dinam back. "You're being so nice to me," he chuckled, tears still evident in his voice. But now, they sounded like the tears of relief. "I'm still not used to handling people's compliments and niceness well... Sometimes I wonder what could have been if the attack never happened. Would I live a peaceful life, eventually coming to Mol'Rihan to continue existing there? But then I wouldn't have become a Starfleet officer, wouldn't come here, and wouldn't meet all the people I now know and... and can call my friends. And I have to ask myself, would that alternative, peaceful existence * really* be better than my current life?" He had a long road ahead of him. But knowing that he may not thread it alone, and that this one person he was terrified of sharing the truth didn't reject him... for now, maybe it was enough. "You are here. Thank you, brother."

The silence that followed was loud. Not in volume, but the voices, as result from all the skin contact they had? Before he could think any further about the phenomenon Saren was once again back in his arms. Muscular arms held the shorter Romulan firmly as his grey skin began to heat up again. "You deserve it. Actually I find your scar a symbol of your courage, your perseverance," Renakir paused after he said the second word and then added, "It makes you, the beautiful you, Dinam," Perhaps it was a Reman thing, but scars represented freedom. It meant one stood up or fought for their right to survive. And in Renakir's eyes it made Saren even more honourable. "I don't know about alternative realities but yes, I am here and I will continue being by your side," His heart was beating a little faster than usual and his breathing changed to match Saren's, as if they were really becoming one mind. Maybe it wasn't a Vulcan mind meld, but this was probably the closest thing either of them would ever experience. "My beautiful and strong Dinam, you need rest," His voice was like liquid honey, the soft words filled with sweetness.

He let out a huff at Renakir's words. Yep, the compliment thing needed some work. Still. Perseverance... when put like that, it almost sounded... nice. "Now you're just doing this on purpose," he blurted, totally not feeling all nice and mushy and very, very fucking tired all of a sudden. Warmth made him sleepy, and maybe this time he will feel safe enough to actually fall asleep? "Rest sounds good. I have a lot... a lot to do later," he blinked, wrinkling his nose. "There's also the birthday celebration... I'll feel like an asshole if I at least don't deliver the gifts. I'll probably need to... ah, I'll think about that later. Brain doesn't work." Could he ask Renakir to stay? No, he probably has his own thing to attend to, Saren shouldn't make such selfish requests. Should he? "You can... stay if you want, or have nothing else to do. Probably a weird thing to offer, but this day has been... pretty weird in general."

Renakir could see the sleepiness in his dinam's eyes, but smiled when the other teased him for all the compliments. "Oh, but I'm serious," He looked at Saren, eyes fixed on the sleepy boy in front of him. Why were Romulans so terrible at taking compliments? Or maybe it was just him... And Saren. Out of all the Romulans on the station, why did the two who were the worst at socialisation and accepting compliments so close? Or maybe that was why they were close. Maybe it was also because they looked similar, but Renakir thought he looked ten times more menacing with his pointed teeth and black claws he called fingernails. "I'd be glad to stay. I can use your replicator, right?" Renakir rubbed Saren's back before separating from him. "I'm quiet so you can sleep in peace, but if you need me I'll be close by," After hearing about his friend's failed Zhal Makh attempts, he wasn't sure if he felt comfortable letting him try to sleep alone. At the very least, maybe knowing his dinam was just outside his door would help him relax. "And if Irok appears I can fight him with my bare hands."

A rare smile appeared on Saren's face - something he didn't do often. Self-consciously he didn't want to look even more like Irok - the man in his memories had a serene sort of grin on his face. But if anything, it's warmth was more reminiscent of Talai. "Yeah, you can do that. Be a guest..." he turned towards the bed, but there was that one thought, still spinning restlessly in his mind. The ball will probably be full of people, and maybe some of them Saren... preferred to avoid, for the time being. So he briefly turned back to Renakir: "Speaking of the event. I may have an idea. Want to, uh, go there in disguises?"

Receiving a warm smile back took Renakir by surprise. Saren, smiling? This was great progress! They two of them were so terrible with socialisation, but here they were, two Romulan bros who hugged and now smiled at each other. Perhaps to others it may seem silly, but it was these little things that he appreciated the most in their strange bromance. "Disguise?" From all that had happened that he had completely forgotten about the ball! That's right, he wasn't planning on going, but now at the mention of a disguise... "Like a masquerade outfit? You know, that'll only further the perception that all Romulans are masked assassins, however.... I like it. What sort of outfit were you thinking about?"

Hiding ones identity was an urge for many. Saren saw it as an opportunity to not only be not perceived as himself, but to also experiment. Allow himself to relax, in a busy, extroverted environment. "You want to go full Venetian carnival? Because that's an option," he shrugged. "If it's like a ball, then I think it's only appropriate to bring in a little bit of... mysterious anonymity, I guess. I also refuse to wear any... more traditional, Romulan clothing. I apologize for offending my own culture, but clearly someone messed the fuck up among the way."

"Full Venetian Carnival? Sounds awesome," Renakir took no time to think about that. Two very introverted Romulans in disguises sounded like a human's worst nightmare but he couldn't wait. "You're also valid, Romulan fashion is truly atrocious. You know, half my closet is those stupid harnesses, if you knew how much they cost," Renakir laughed, and the funniest part was Reman fashion was just as terrible if not worse. "I can wear contacts, no one's gonna know a thing."

"Glad we agree on that," he murmured, voice going hoarse from sleepiness. Saren, very ungracefully, flopped face first into the bed, "So it's agreed on. See you... a few hours later, then. Night, dinam..." Maybe it'll be all right. For now, it sure was so. He dozed off almost immediately, body and mind exhausted from the stress and emotions and everything. Be it this sheer exhaustion, or the fact that Renakir was nearby, or probably both, but Saren's sleep was dreamless.

"Good night, dinam," Renakir said before leaving the room so Saren could sleep in peace. His first order of business was to walk straight to the replicator and make himself some baguettes and Romulan ale. Synthol, unfortunately, but it still tasted good. Yes Romulan ale was incredibly strong, even for most Romulans, but Renakir unironically loved it. In fact, as soon as he reached the Romulan drinking age, his first order of business was to get as much ale as he could. With his toasted baguette and ale in hand, he headed to the sofa and began to munch quietly.

A few hours later, the body on the bed finally stirred, as Saren was finally waking up from his dreamless sleep. He felt... better. Not perfect, but much calmer, albeit still a bit groggy. He rolled out of the bed, making his way towards the bathroom and discovering Renakir, chilling on the sofa. He grunted a greeting, looking a lot like a crumpled up paper. Or a sleepy cat. "Bah'get?" he inquired, nodding his chin towards the long piece of bread Renakir was munching on.

Renakir was happily munching on his baguette when he heard a rustling from the bedroom. Saren had only been asleep a couple hours, but that was normal for Vulcanoids. It was a blessing and a curse. Part of him wished he could enjoy 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, but another part of him preferred it this way so he had more time to do productive things. He turned his head and shoved the last bit of his baguette into his mouth when the other greeted him. "Mmm, Baguette," He repeated the word in his French accent. French and Rihannsu may have well been chickens talking to ducks with how distinct the two were from each other. A slight chuckle escaped his lips when he heard the other's Rihannsu accent on the word. "Something I ate a lot in France," He said before realising-- He was facing Saren. Looking directly at the other without his sunglasses or hiding his mouth when he ate. Aside from his own family there were few people he felt this comfortable with. Well, him and Saren did hug-- twice, and they were dinams. "Feeling better?" He asked, noticing how sleepy the other still looked. Thankfully he wasn't crying anymore and it seemed like he did actually sleep.

"Cool," he nodded with a hazy blink, unbothered by sharp teeth. Maybe he didn't see them, or maybe he just really didn't care, "I do feel better. Gimme five minutes... and then we can go." Cold water on his skin felt good. It helped Saren wake up, wash away some of the drowsiness. He combed his hair, letting it stay slightly curly - straightening it out like he usually did required too much energy. For a while he just... stared at his reflection, silent, deep in thought. You're not him. You're your own person. Words said by his parents, and now enforced by people of this station. Words that made him think, made him feel conflicted. Was he really? Could he really escape the shadow Irok has seemingly cast on him? Or maybe, he just imagined it? He exited the room, eyes landing back on Renakir. "Ready for a dress-up?" he asked with a quirk to his eyebrows, now looking much more calm and collected, green gaze focused, color returning to his face. "Maybe you have an idea for what to wear?"

Renakir nodded in acknowledgement, letting his friend go off to wash his face. As he did so, Renakir took the time to go recycle the glass in the replicator. How was this man still hungry even after eating baguettes and drinking ale for three hours? Vulcanoid metabolism. What great timing that his dinam returned just when he was walking back to the sofa. "Yep, ready," Renakir stretched his arms out and over his head. Thank Tenakruvek the ceilings were high, he remembered being so frustrated with how low the ceilings were in France. He yawned and rolled his shoulders back a couple times. "I was thinking maybe I could be like... A terran bird? The secretary bird, those look pretty neat," And also his natural dark circles around his eyes paired with his silver irises would definitely make an impression. Plus, he thought having feathers everywhere would be cool. "Oh and before I forget, you're Reman now, I decree it, Dinam," He told his dinam before realising the phrase was probably very confusing to an outsider. "That's how Reman fraternity works, it's not about your biological species, it's about your intentions. We stand by each other, and fight with each other, so, you're Reman, welcome."

"Bird?" echoed Saren. "I like that, actually. I'll follow the theme. Do you want me to match your white or we're gonna go for opposites today?" Ah yes, the bird nerd in action. Secretary birds had beautiful white-grey plumage, and Saren already knew a couple species he could use for inspiration-- But his thoughts stop abruptly, as he blanked at Renakir's declaration. Reman? He?.. "Are you sure..?" he asked hesitantly, because oh shit, this was an honor, so great in fact he didn't know if he was allowed to accept it.

"We could match or you could go opposite, whichever you want to do, I am sure we'll make quite an entrance," Renakir chuckled at the thought of two masked Romulans walking into a fancy party together. The thrill of hiding behind a mask and not having to be self conscious his Reman features for once was honestly so freeing. Although little did Renakir know the look of his silver eyes were hardly a secret from his friends. "And yes, you are allowed. In fact, I have proclaimed a couple others with the honour. Allan and Dion for example, they are Reman," He explained. "Anyone who stands beside me and my other Reman kin are Reman, welcome to the Reman club, Dinam."

"That's... I... " no words followed. Saren just gave him a quick and spontaneous side-hug, bumping the taller male's shoulder. Nope, he won't cry again. Hmm. Decisions, decisions... "I'll contrast you, then," said he, the man who totally, absolutely didn't have a weak spot for darker clothing. They were just two alien dudes, doing this for a confidence boost in a social event, but to the outside world... two masked Romulans, carrying at least one knife, truly was a nightmarish concept. So, queue the aquirement of such fancy clothes - probably involving a replicator and a couple of trials and errors - and off the boys went, feathers preened and all ruffled up for some proper showing off...

Unlike many other races in the galaxy, Remans have always historically been very welcoming. After all Shinzon was a human clone and there was no doubt he was Reman. Renakir tried not to smile too big when Saren hugged him, they were truly bros now, this was their final Reman Bro form. He gave his dinam a nod and the two completely normal Romulan bros got dressed in their bird get up. Renakir quite liked how much the costume covered his body, no one would suspect under all these feathers was the shy and awkward Romulan-Reman turbolift engineer. Well, except for people who knew what his eyes looked like, those were unmistakable.

To: Ensign Saren Morvar From: Lieutenant J.G. Eshen K'Tann

Jolan tru! Sorry I didn't contact you about this sooner, I was feeling a little under the weather, but would you like to meet up at Surak Snacks soon? I ha e something to give you.

[D] Saren was in the middle of reading some russian novel when all of a sudden, the message ping rang out. The Romulan got up, eyes scanning over the short text - quickly recognizing Eshen's name. He typed out the reply: To: Lieutenant J.G. Eshen K'Tann From: Ensign Saren Morvar

Jolan tru. You have me intrigued. I will meet you at the entrance to the Snacks, then.

And went to get ready.

And off he goes, to the corridor!

Dear Ensign Saren Morvar, Starfleet Intelligence requests your presence on a classified mission. You are to be allocated to @deleted-role. A full briefing as to the nature of the mission will take place once the ship has departed. Eventide is to depart on stardate 89728.71 – the 23rd of September 2412 at 1700 hours. Please be aboard the vessel for this time. It is predicted that this mission shall last approximately three days including the time taken for travel. A full communications blackout will be in place during this time: there will be no communication with Starbase 777 or any other outside sources. Please do not inform anyone else as to the details of this journey. We hope you understand, and we thank you for your compliance. Yours, Starfleet Intelligence.

17:57

Dear Ensign Jack Bright, Starfleet Intelligence requests your presence on a classified mission. You are to be allocated to @deleted-role. A full briefing as to the nature of the mission will take place once the ship has departed. Eventide is to depart on stardate 89728.71 – the 23rd of September 2412 at 1700 hours. Please be aboard the vessel for this time. It is predicted that this mission shall last approximately three days including the time taken for travel. A full communications blackout will be in place during this time: there will be no communication with Starbase 777 or any other outside sources. Please do not inform anyone else as to the details of this journey. We hope you understand, and we thank you for your compliance. Yours, Starfleet Intelligence.

[D] He returned to his quarters only to hear the telltale beep of the new message in his room. He expected it to be either one from home, or work related, or maybe something one of his colleagues or friends sent him - but no. Green eyes narrowed at the words "Starfleet Intelligence", "classified mission", "full communication blackout", and other, very interesting words, while zero context or clue to the mission itself was given. Huh. Two thoughts occured to him. "Important work, time to go," thought his rational side. "MURDER? FIGHT? SNEAK? STAB???" his more instinct-driven, primal part of the brain inquired excitedly, which the Romulan partially ignored - being the dutiful Starfleet officer that he was. Less than five minutes later Saren was in his uniform, essentials and two sibling knives packed with him. Giving his living quarters a careful last lookover, he briskly exited into the corridor.

[D] Guess who was back at hoooooome. That's right, it was Jack Bright! Walking into his quarters, he took in a deep breath and immediately kicked off his shoes, placing them next to his door as he cracked his back and groaned.

Looking around, he took all his stolen loot from his pockets and put them in his quarters as he then proudly looked at his treasure.

From: Captain Mephistopheles Mo To: Ensign Saren Morvar

Please come to my office at your earliest convenience to discuss an important matter. (...Or my quarters, if you'd like to see some isopods, but the matter is still professional.) - Station Commander Mephistopheles Mo

[D] After the absolute rollercoaster that was his visit to Eshen, the comfort of which still lingered on his shoulders like a warm, heavy blanket borrowed from a friend, he finally came back to his quarters... only to find out that he may need to leave them again. From: Ensign Saren Morvar To: Captain Mephistopheles Mo

Can't say no to isopods, sir. I will arrive in 20 minutes.

With that message sent, the Romulan dressed in his uniform, made an attempt to tame his bedhead (kinda worked), and off he went!

Jack was at his portion of the quarters, tuning his violin and making a few adjustments to the strings while he listened to some cool bangin tunes on his headphones. He had successfully avoided several doctors after his last stunt as the station's proclaimed Rabies Ensign™, because honestly he didn't want to get another rabies shot. He got three in the past!! Ehem. With a sigh, he put it back inside its beautifully decorated case and placed the case down on the bed. Brushing his hair with his hands, he let out a soft humming sound as he wondered... When was the last time he saw Saren after they met in the after-mission shenanigans? He should probably go there and interact again, it was extremely nice to see his best friend (in his heart), even if he was acting strange.

He soon flopped down onto the bed and whipped out his PADD, logging in into the chatroom for shits and giggles.

After a long while of just scrolling through the chatroom and looking through old pictures, Jack's green eyes finally became tired of the screen and he sat up, looking out the window of his room as the one song he hated listening to due to all the memories it unlocked began playing. Goodbye to a World, by Porter Robinson.

His hands clenched into fists as his eyes widened in horror, tears beginning to brim at them as he then knocked his headphones out, his chest tight with what would be considered as terror as he then got up to his feet, staring down at it. Not again. Not today. Not now.