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Faye Quarters - The Envelope, Please. - (Tag ALL Crew)

Posted Jan. 14, 2021, 1:29 p.m. by Lieutenant Faye Calloway (Mission Specialist) (Lindsay B)

Posted by Lieutenant Pretha Oberon (Security Officer / CRIT Leader) in Faye Quarters - The Envelope, Please. - (Tag ALL Crew)

Posted by Lieutenant Faye Calloway (Mission Specialist) in Faye Quarters - The Envelope, Please. - (Tag ALL Crew)

(snip)

Calloway didn’t fight her, but there was a moment where she wanted to break away and get more space. But Pretha was a trustworthy person who had given her the benefit of the doubt and she forced herself to take a breath and sat in the other dining chair at her small table.

Faye’s small quarters were neat and tidy, but also fairly bare. She didn’t seem to have a lot of personal effects, save for perhaps a surprising number of plants tucked in nooks and corners of her place. There was a shelving unit with grow lights on where trays of tiny seedlings were growing strong. In addition to a small sofa and a small dining table, she had a side table in a corner with some sort of cooking implement (a personal oven of some sort), and there was a desk with a small stack of padds. The computer (with a multiple-screen set up) was shut off. Looking over at her seedlings, Faye channelled the ujjayi breath from yoga. Also known as the ocean breath, it created a rushing sound behind closed lips and helped cue her brain that now might be a good time to focus on something more positive.

Looking back at Pretha, Faye shook her head. “Sorry, I was doing fine with the whole summons to the party bit, and I was getting dressed but I went to go put the jacket on and this terrible sensation came over me. I had to shrug it off immediately. I haven’t been in uniform again yet since… the brig. And now I can’t put it on. It’s like because it was taken from me, even under reasonable circumstances, I can’t…” She shook head, losing her words and a way to make sense of it.

~Faye Calloway

Pretha stepped back to retrieve the other chair and set it in front of Faye. She was close enough to reach over and touch the woman if needed be, or be touched if Faye reached out. But she wasn’t close enough to crowd the woman.

“First of all, remember it was never taken from you. If I recall, you were pretty dirty and sweaty from crawling around in the ducts and tubes of the ship, right? Wouldn’t you have changed for comfort and hygiene by choice, even if I hadn’t been the one to bring an outfit to you and ask you to?” She wanted Faye to remember feeling grimy before putting the sweats on. Sure, they probably hadn’t been personal comfy ones she’d have chosen herself. But they had been cleaner than her uniform.

Faye shook her head. She understood what Pretha was saying, but it wasn’t the same thing. She hadn’t been given a choice. “No, actually. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I’d rather have kept my uniform.”

“And even before that, when was the last time you wore that particular jacket?” She nodded her head back over her shoulder where the jacket in question was blocked from view behind her. Her voice remained calm and comforting as it had been when Faye was in the cell and faced with similar attacks of anxiety.

Pretha
CRIT Ldr

Faye glanced over at the offending garment and inhaled deeply. “Never, actually. It was replicated after I came back to duty after my previous… imprisonment. I took my sweet time getting back into uniform then too, but that was because I wasn’t cleared for duty.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. When she opened them, Faye felt at least a bit calmer. “You don’t know a whole lot about me, Pretha. But if anything is true, it’s that I don’t keep a lot of promises. I don’t make them unless I feel absolutely certain I can keep it. Years ago, Starfleet became this huge promise I made. Not just to the Fleet as a whole, but to myself. It was a new start. And despite all the crap I’ve been through, I keep choosing to put it back on, to make that promise anew. And there have been moment since I came to the Manhattan where I wondered if it was still the right thing to do. But never once has anyone told me I can’t wear it. And now it feels like the promise if broken, but hell if I can figure out how or who broke it.”

~Faye Calloway


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