driftfleet | And Let Us Gather 'Round [ Video + Action ]

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And Let Us Gather 'Round [ Video + Action ]

Who: Kirk and The Fine People of the Fleet
Broadcast: Yes
Action: On the Iskaulit, Specifically at the Melting Pot - Note: After the Broadcast
When: After they start heading away from the system

Video
_{[ Kirk appears on the screen, and probably like many people he looks tired and a bit beaten up. Scratches not yet healed on his face, one even covered with a bandage on his cheek, that sort of drawn look around his eyes after all the sleepless nights and the battles and general horridness. A little to pale, perhaps.

Even so, he gives as warm a smile as he can as he begins to speak. ]}

For those of you who might not know, I come from a world called Earth - or at least, one of the versions represented here. On my world, in the country I hail from, we celebrate something known as Thanksgiving roughly around this time of year if I've done my calculations correct. Some people call it Friendsgiving, but it's all the same really.

Essentially, it's a time to a give thanks for the good things in your life, your friends, and your family. In the spirit of that, I've arranged for a gathering at the Melting Pot - a thank you to Jarvis for that. Everyone who wishes to come is welcome.

I just thought we all could use a day, a place, to be together and to just enjoy each other. So I hope to see you there.

Action: The Melting Pot
_{[ The restaurant is set up to allow as much mingling as possible when people arrive - places to sit, of course, but there's gentle music playing for those who might want to dance and just to give some atmosphere (but not loud enough to stop conversation at all). Food and drink is laid out - things to nibble on rather than the usual feasts associated with a Thanksgiving. Not particularly ideal, but it's what could be managed. Unless, of course, anyone decided to bring something else to add to the spread.

Not a fancy party, to be sure, but it's warm and inviting, which is what Kirk had hoped for. A place for them all to come together and enjoy each other and just be glad they were all there and if not quite completely whole, then, well, able to be there. ]}

_{[ooc: Open mingle! Feel free to create your own starters and do as you like - tis a warm Friendsgiving party for the Fleet! ]}

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[Chekov isn't so drunk that he can't tell when someone would rather not be on the receiving end of a hug. He steps back, sheepish.]

Sorry, sorry. I'm pleased to see that you are alive, Keith. Would you like a drink?

[No, there was no actual pause between any of those sentences. He offers Keith a half-empty bottle of... something. Some whisky-esque alien liquor.]

It's good to see you're alive, too... [Keith managed a weak smile beyond the now throbbing ache in his side that Chekov had unknowingly and unintentionally brought back. He stared at the bottle for a bit.] Do you even know what that is?

[If Chekov was sober and slightly more observant, he would feel extremely guilty for that.]

Of course I do. This is an alcoholic drink made from a malted grain. Lyukian whisky. [His mood takes an abrupt turn for the sad.] Very rare now that Lyuku is gone.

[Which was part of the reason Keith was keeping his temper in check about it. He knew Chekov was a little... extra happy, so to speak.

Keith did wince, however, at the comment about Lyuku.]

It's not really gone. Just... it needs to heal.

[He heard the planet's song come back before they left. The people were positive they could rebuild, even with that level of devastation. The planet would recover.]

I think there will be more of that in the future.

[It might be preferable to earlier when he was extremely sad? Or maybe not. There weren't any surprise hugs then.]

Ah, right, yes. I was confusing it with another planet. [Did he really just confuse Lyuku and Vulcan? For the first time today, he suspects that he's had a bit too much to drink. He frowns and offers the bottle to Keith a little more insistently.] Please take this? You are much too sober and I'm... [a mess? about three times drunker than he ever allows himself to get?] ...done, I think.

[Keith carefully took the bottle.]

Are you okay?

[The shift in Chekov's attitude was definitely concerning.]

Do you need anything?

Yes, no. No, but thank you.

[Ugh. Although he still feels warm and buzzy and pleasantly detached, the suspicion that those feelings are the result of being slightly more drunk and out of control than he had intended takes all of the fun out of them. Happiness isn't that satisfying when it's fake.]

I'm sorry, I'm okay, thank you. [He smiles and stops just short of laughing at himself even though nothing is particularly funny.] I believe I had too much to drink is all.

[Keith frowned a little.]

I'm sorry. You looked like you were having fun, at least. You want anything? Coffee? Tea?

[Keith felt a little bad now... like he'd ruined Chekov's buzz personally.]

Don't be, please. This is...

[There's some broad gesturing that does absolutely nothing to convey whatever it is he wants to say. It would probably help if he knew what he wanted to say.]

No thank you, this is fine. [That is not remotely convincing.] You are already saving me from myself.

[Keith didn't look convinced, but he also didn't feel comfortable challenging Chekov on it.]

Well, have you had anything to eat?

[That would help, right?]

Let's grab some food. It might help.

Yes. Maybe. No, perhaps not. I can fix that.

It isn't necessary for you to stay with me, I know that you have friends here.

[Not that he doesn't want company, it just seems rude to monopolize the time of someone who has no compelling reason to make sure he doesn't faceplant in the hors d'oeuvres or anything.]

It's fine. They can do without me for a bit.

[...]

Come on.

[Chekov looked like he needed a friend anyway, and, well, Keith was at least a good listener.]

If you're certain.

[He helps himself to the snack that looks the least like space goo.]

I promise to not hug you again.

I'm certain.

[Keith appreciated the sentiment behind the lack of hugging for now.]

Thanks. Bruised ribs don't do well with hugs.

Thank you.

[Really. He does need a friend.]

Your ribs are bruised? [He makes a dismayed Russian noise.] From the planet?

Sure thing.

[Keith picked up a couple of small things to eat, too, as they talked.]

Sort of. I mean, I'm definitely beat up, but I wasn't on the planet. The Huntress didn't go down. But, I was going to help with dropping some supplies and was working with someone for that on the Blameless when it got boarded. We had to fight off some of the Vieziri there, too.

I'm sorry--for hurting you and for that experience. The fighting on the ground was... [what's the right word] horrifying. I imagine it was no better on the ships.

Don't worry too much about it. [Either one, really.] Back home, we're fighting a war against an empire. I guess... I'm kind of used to it.

[Though, was he really? Keith wasn't sure. It had been easy to lose himself in the motions during the fight to keep the Blameless safe. Keith knew he could fight. And he had pushed himself hard before and against some pretty steep odds. It wasn't hard for him to let himself focus on the motions and tune everything else out around him.]

I think that fighting is never something that we should need to become used to.

[Even though it's inevitable in certain fields. The Federation isn't at war at home, but they manage to find themselves in plenty of trouble anyway. Chekov has just been fortunate (and protected) enough to avoid most of it himself.]

Here especially. This is meant to be a silly show with occasional adventures on planets, yes?

Mm.

[Keith shrugged a little and then managed a small smile at the comment about the show.]

That's what I thought, too. A silly show...

Maybe we have seen the worst of it and will return to that.

[He's still drunk enough to have some hope that such a thing is possible.]

[Keith almost said that he knew there was a third one coming, but he paused, noticing Chekov's attitude about it. He changed his mind and shrugged instead.]

Maybe.

[He grabbed a plate and passed it to him.]

Here... let's see what they've got for food.

[Good lad. Chekov will crush his own hopes well enough once he sobers up properly.

He takes the plate a bit clumsily and disregards Keith's noncommittal response.]

Paste derivatives, probably. [wistfully:] Someday we will go to a planet with good food, no immediate peril, and no cannibals.

Paste... gel... solid... whatever those things are.

[He shrugged a little.] It could be worse, though. It could be the same flavored goo every single meal.

They are their own state of matter.

[He frowned (a bit comically) at Keith.] Are you trying to give the Atroma ideas for ways to torment us?

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tempredmental - 2017-12-14 06:00 (UTC) - Expand

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