Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Namid Argimeau (Scientific Intelligence Officer) in side-sim: Apples to Oranges? (Tag Argimeau)

Posted by Civilian Revna Freya McKenzie (Diplomatic Attache) in side-sim: Apples to Oranges? (Tag Argimeau)

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Namid Argimeau (Scientific Intelligence Officer) in side-sim: Apples to Oranges? (Tag Argimeau)

(SNIP)

Namid rested their chin atop their palm, wholly invested in Revna’s story. They recalled childhood encounters with tricky situations, but theirs were more or less the result of foolhardiness, not active character building. That wasn’t to say they didn’t learn a thing or two—like not to say “sorry” to a Zaldan or compliment a Klingon’s pet targ as being “super cute”. (They would die on that hill.) Namid brushed away the thought and briefly pictured a grown man answering to a seven-year-old. Mirth touched their face, but they made no mention of it. A smile tugged their lips, or perhaps it never faded, and they nodded. “It sounds like you and your Da,” they adopted the moniker she used, “were close?”

Revna grinned, looking for all the world like a seven year old, for just a moment. “Oh yes. We still are. The three of us, me, my twin, and my baby sister, are all daddy’s girls. And uncle’s girls, I guess. My father is a twin as well. He and my uncle doted on us, but never spoiled us…much.” Revna smirked remembering. “My da says we each gave him a heart attack a day growing up. He was firm, but fair. No matter what trouble we got into he was always there for us. Then…oh then the next day he was like an evil frost giant coming after us. But we always learned how to correct our wrongs and take responsibility for the good and the bad. I miss him quite a bit.”

When their question left Revna’s tongue, Namid released a soft chuckle. “I was also born on an island — Vancouver Island, in BC.” They shook their head. “But, I was raised ‘on the road’. My father ran with a theatre troupe, so we spent most of my childhood planet-hopping. Alpha Centauri, the Deneva Colony, Risa, even Vulcan — wherever there was a stage or a large enough pile of rocks, we went.”

— Namid Argimeau, Scientific Intel

“That’s sounds incredibly exciting. What was your favorite place that you visited? Or are there too many to choose from?”
McKenzie, DA

“Oh, for sure…” Namid pursed their lips as memories of twisted, thunderous rivers, peaceful forests, and jagged peaks swelled in their thoughts. But the place that stuck with them wasn’t an ordinary majesty. It was simple and overlooked but entirely invaluable. “I had a habit of wandering off as a kid. Was it boredom? The urge to defy my father’s demand I ‘stay put’?” They shrugged. “Anyway, the troupe had an annual gig at one of Portland’s innumerable celebrations. So, every year we piled into an Earth-bound ship and hitched a ride to the Rose City. But while my father wined and dined and did his actorly thing, I planned my next big escape.”

“I guess follow-up wasn’t a strong suit, because I always ended up on the same hidden trail.” Namid wrinkled their nose to mask the chagrin in their eyes. “There were ponderosas and cottonwoods that clung to the trail’s edge, and marionberries and sticky foxtails that deterred any wildlife from the nearby cliff. It wasn’t much, but there was a certain raw beauty about the way nature reclaimed it.”

“Sound more like it was a place that really called to you, and going back always meant something to you.” Revna nodded, “Nature, the way nature is supposed to be is wild, powerful, and glorious. If you never get back to Earth, go to Bømlo, tell them I sent you. You’ll see some beautiful wildness.”

“Yeah…” Namid wore a wistful smile, “…that’s really just it.” There was an inherent agreement between people and nature. No words. No actions. Just pure, intimate awareness of one another. Namid didn’t understand it, nor did they strive to. But there was a kind of harmony found in the wilderness, so long as they weren’t looking for it. Nodding, they added: “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

Their voice tapered off as the waiter reappeared, armed with delicious goods that sent spicy, sweet and salty aromas wafting through the air. Relinquishing the tray to the edge of the table, the waiter carefully distributed the goods between the two. Then, hoisting the tray under his arm, he parted with a comment to holler if they needed anything.

— Namid Argimeau, Scientific Intel

Renva smiled at the waiter, “Thank you so much.” She picked up a fork and took a bite of her omelet and smiled happily. That was good. Not replicated then, compliments to the chef.

McKenzie, DA

Namid gratefully tipped their head, tripping into a comfortable silence. Canned music saturated the cafe, producing a kind of upbeat but spacey vibe. Curiously, they set down their spoon and tugged their coffee toward them. “Outside of your diplomatic work,” they smiled, “what do you enjoy?”

— Namid Argimeau

“Music. It is more essential to me than breathing,” Namid would get the impression that Revna really meant that, she wasn’t using hyperbole, she was serious. “I sketch some. There are several things I enjoy that I can’t really enjoy on a ship, traditional ranged weapons, horseback riding, sailing. I miss being on the long boats. What about you, outside of science?”

Revna McKenzie

“Do you prefer to make music or consume it?” Namid took a sip of their coffee. Holodecks came to mind when Revna mentioned her longing to sail, but there was something strangely intangible and inauthentic about them. “Ping Pong,” they said almost instantly, “or really anything I can do with my hands. I play a little banjo—not very well—and I enjoy cooking. Baking is a different story.”

— Namid Argimeau

“Both. I make music, but I can’t create it. I’ve tried once or twice, but I’m not good.” Revna stirred her tea with a smile, “Ping Pong? I haven’t played that in…oh since I was a kid. Now a banjo has such an amazingly unique sound, but I’ve never played on. Do you get to cook at all while you are here? I get the impression Harv is less lord of his kingdom and more a dragon hording his loot when it comes to his kitchen.”

Revna McKenzie