Star Trek: Eventide 777 - ┊morvar-family-home

Not too long after the whole beach house scene, Renakir managed to sneak his ass all the way to the Ih'lagga district. It seemed like the authorities were not looking for him yet. He definitely made a good decision dressing in different clothes. Just like at the beach house, Renakir wore tight green trousers, a button down white collared shirt, and terrible Romulan disco ball patterned blazer. In his blazer sleeves he had tucked away 4 macarons, although he had already eaten two on his way there. What a pain; in the Reman district he stuck out for his full head of hair and now in the Romulan district he stuck out for literally every other feature. Thankfully he had long trousers and sleeves and he had taken his sunglasses off knowing very well that would be a key identifier. He did not have his contacts in so he was out here just in a lot of pain from the light. Renakir ran up to his friend's door and knocked. "Dinam, please, let me in."

A house stood in front of him, humble yet inviting in it's appearance; comparatively small, built with that classic Romulan architecture in mind, yet adorned in the flowering greenery that was the grand garden surrounding it. It's roof wore a crown of an ivy-like, flowering plant - a home in itself, for dozens of songbirds - which was crawling up the house's light walls and all around the columns, like a giant, leafy snake. The path to the house, it's beginning marked by a wooden arch, was shaded by the surrounding trees - a temporary relief for the poor half-Reman man. Almost as soon as he knocked, the door opened. "Who-- huh? Renakir?" Behind it was Saren, looking awfully domestic; barefoot, clad in an old, semi transparent dress shirt (that at some point belonged to Talai), and some grey pants, in his free hand he was holding an empty watering can. Judging by the rogue leaf stuck in Saren's hair, Renakir caught him just in the middle of some garden work. Concern furrowed his brows, and without another word Saren took his friend by the sleeve and led him in, quickly closing the door behind them. "What happened?.." he asked urgently, turning towards the taller man. Green eyes quickly darted towards the closest clock: "No one's home yet, and won't be for some time. In case you could be worried about that."

Saren's house was a luxury in a different sense. There was no tall gate, but instead a wooden arch under some trees that provided minimal shade, but it was better than facing the blistering sun of Mol'Rihan. Renakir's heeled oxfords made it difficult to move without making loud clacking noises. Maybe not the best choice for a run-away shoe. He should have gone with trainers, he thought. As soon as the door swung open he was greeted by a familiar face. "Umm, I just wanna clear my head," Renakir shrugged as he reached into his sleeve that Saren had pulled and held out his last two macarons. "Want a snack? I got them from a couple of Ensign Allan's Reman friends," He offered. Normally he wouldn't be offering food to another Romulan, but they were dinam so it was alright, at least in his mind. He kept his steps light when he entered the house, careful not to make too much noise. He was also very mindful not to step on his friend's bare feet (which looked nice by the way). Saren's sense of worry did not help Renakir's own anxiety. Suddenly he was wondering if he was being selfish by potentially getting Saren tied up in a missing person's case. Judging from their house, they were pretty well off-- although Talai was an architect, wasn't he? That would explain why the house was so painfully Romulan. It was handcrafted beauty unlike Renakir's house which might as well have been made of latinum. "I'm sorry were you doing something?" He asked, noticing the watering can in his friend's hands.

Ah, so that's why his sleeve felt weird. "Clear your head, huh..." he regarded the round dessert with a raised eyebrow, but accepted it. He was perplexed by this situation, by his friend's behaviour and spontaneous visit, but maybe Renakir would tell him later. He let the Romulan-Reman man take his time, instead ushering him deeper into the house, so they didn't awkwardly hover near the entrance: "Oh. Mom asked to water the garden. I'm pretty much done, though, don't worry. We can go there if you want, it's pretty shaded at this hour. The breeze might help you clear out that busy head of yours." It seemed that Renakir was in no immediate danger, which did make Saren's worries lessen. No need to bonk some asshole with a watering can, then. Still, he kept a close eye on his dinam. Just in case.

3

In a very un-Romulan and un-Reman way, Renakir just wanted to break down and cry right there in the entryway. He wanted to tell Saren everything that happened and why he didn't want to go home. The kind hearted and friendly OPS officer who was fiercely loyal to his friends was actually a spoiled and selfish fu'erdai boy who scooted through life with a silver spoon in his mouth. He regretted everything. He was a liar and a fraud, the nice boy from 777 was not what everyone thought. But not now, he followed Saren as they walked deeper into the home. He did not keep stabbing distance, in fact he was practically walking on top of Saren with how close they were. "Garden... Yes, I'd like to go there," He spoke, exasperation clear as night in his voice. He sighed as he pulled his blazer closed and crossed his arms. He wasn't cold, he was just nervous. If anything he was too warm, who knew the Romulan districts were so warm. "I'll tell you... Everything."

1

[D] Too soon, the shore leave ended. Too soon, the blue-white-black tricolor of the Starfleet uniform would replace the softer tones of his casual clothes, and he would go back to work amongst the stars, leaving the green garden of his home behind, until the next time. Saren got a handful of his siblings, who clung to him with both ferocity and love that only Romulans were capable of, hiding their sadness in jokes and promises (threats) of visit. They want to become cadets, they told him, which filled Saren with both indescribable pride and horrible dread. They gave him a handmade plush of a purple vivver cat, it's six red beads for eyes glowing ominously yet protectively in the dark, with a rather cryptic message - "she has a stomach ache, check on that when you get there." Saren would figure that riddle out later. Arinn sat beside him in the garden, weaving flowers into crowns, gentle sadness in her dark gaze as they talked about everything and nothing. Talai joined them, as the three just... sat there, existing in each other's company, until it was time for Saren to leave, with promises of visits and messages and not forgetting to take care of himself and reminders that he were surrounded by friends there. One last wave of a hand, one last look at the Morvar household, and he was gone. Truly, until the next time.

2