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Side Sim Mental Loops (Atten to Counselor)

Posted June 17, 2021, 5:53 p.m. by Lieutenant Eleyr of House Em'ujo (Chief of Keeping Our Brains Healthy (CNS)) (Trin S)

Posted by Ensign Emery Mackenzie McCoy (Yeoman/Tailor) in Side Sim Mental Loops (Atten to Counselor)

Posted by Ensign Emery Mackenzie McCoy (Yeoman/Tailor) in Side Sim Mental Loops (Atten to Counselor)

Posted by Lieutenant Eleyr of House Em’ujo (Chief of Keeping Our Brains Healthy (CNS)) in Side Sim Mental Loops (Atten to Counselor)
Posted by… suppressed (12) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Emery had taken only enough time to set up her bookshelves and set out her tailoring tools on the center shelf the rest held her novels and knick knacks. Her crochet hooks and yarn were in her room. She would work on changing the colors of the furniture and carpeting to her liking later. She pulled her hair into a bun that sat on the back of her head and then after making sure her uniform wasn’t wrinkled she headed out to meet up with the Counselor. She in general didn’t mind counseloring meetings. It was medical she tried to avoid. She never enjoyed being in the medical department seeing another in pain bugged her, plus depending on the doctor the short jokes got old. Rules were rules, she didn’t have to enjoy it to do it.

She found the counseling offices and rang the chime.

Emery Mackenzie McCoy, Yeoman, Tailor (brat cat in disguise)

“Pssst,” a sandpaper rasp ripped through the air, daring to snag Emery’s attention from the chime to the lonely little desk situated just behind her. There, the yeoman — tailor — brat cat in disguise would find a rather large, burly figure cloaked in what appeared to be a quilt. “Yeah, you.” The figure rasped, extending a long, taloned finger through the cloth to beckon Emery closer. “Are you one of those doctor yeomen— the ones hunting people down for exams?”

— Cloaked figure

Emery jumped at the Pssst and spun around, her duel hued eyes wide with surprise, how had she missed seeing the desk and quilted cloaked person, at the raspy query she smiled and shook her head, “Nope I am not part of medical. I am a professional tailor and assigned as yeoman, My name is Emery, and whom would you be?” she asked lightly though the more she spoke the more a Celtic lilt turned her words.

Emery McCoy, Yeoman, Tailor (brat cat in disguise)

“Professional tailour, huh?” The cloaked figure echoed, rubbing what appeared to be their chin. They muttered something about a ‘darning’ but dismissed it with a flick of their wrist. “Oh.. me?” Their fingers crept to the hood of their makeshift cloak. Languidly, as if to preserve the suspense, they pulled the fabric from their face. Inch by inch, it unveiled a distinct cranial ridge, beady brown eyes ablaze with untempered enthusiasm, and a crooked, toothy grin. “I’m Eleyr, daughter of Echego of House Em’ujo,” she extended a taloned hand, “ship’s counsellor.”

Rising to her feet, Eleyr wrapped the quilt firmly about her shoulders and waddled around the desk. Jabbing her head toward her cave office, she asked… “Care to join me inside, tailor?” a slight pause. “I have another quilt.”

— Eleyr, CNS

bump 11/05/2021

Emery shook the offered hand and grinned cheekily at the counselor, “Pleased to meet you,” she followed Ellie Ear into the office, “Quilts are always fun, thank you.” she was impressed this counselor had shown flare for unexpected and fun, Emery was very much looking forward to seeing what else this counselor had up their sleeves.

Emery McCoy, Yeoman, Tailor (brat cat in disguise)

“I concur,” Eleyr grinned and gestured Emery inside, where she would discover an office that was.. well, anything but an office.

Deep, palpable crimson and onyx wove through every fibre of her mix-patterned rugs. Some were Vulcan in design – a homage to one of her dearest friends – others bore a distinctly Klingon design. Atop them, cushions large enough to seat the Gorn heavy-weight champion huddled around an oaken table in the company of crouched chairs. Her table was adorned by knickknacks from the shell of a Betazoid mollusc to an eerily one-eyed clay doll, each with a story Eleyr would joyously tell. If her gaze were to drift, she might notice a wall adorned in weapons of all character and design. On either side, a tapestry protected them with honour and vitality in equal measure.

Eleyr strolled in, traversing the room to a large wooden chest whose hickory face was accentuated by scratches and scrapes hardly resembling art. She knelt, snaking her fingers under its lid and flung it open. If Emery were to look, she would discover a plethora of comforting cloths — ratted childhood blankets, eloquent quilts stitched by the finest Andorian artists, a pair of fluffy throws, and a blanket adorned by what appeared to be warrior frogs.

The Counsellor jabbed her chin to her chest, offering Emery the freedom to choose her blanket.

“I can imagine you’re thirsty — perhaps famished! — from your travels,” Eleyr meandered toward the replicator, “may I offer you something to eat or drink?”

— Eleyr, CNS

Emery pulled out one of the fluffy throw blankets, it very nearly a match for her favorite sherpa and velvet throw blanket in her quarters, yet to be unpacked. She smiled at the counselor, “I won’t say no to some hot chocolate if that is an option if not as long as it is NOT green tea I will try most anything else.” She had no desire to repeat the experience she’d had with green tea, it had not agreed with her and the taste was enough to make her make faces just thinking about it.

Emery Ward, Yeoman, Tailor (brat cat in disguise)

“Green tea is among the vilest of Earth’s creations,” Eleyr wrinkled her nose, “I am partial to Earth’s Masala Chai, myself.” She programmed Emery’s request, watching as two steaming hot chocolates (topped with marshmallows of course) materialised before her. Turning on her heel, she pranced over to Emery and extended the mug to her.

“So,” she plopped onto a cushion, lifting the cup to her lips with a noticeable ahhh!. “What entices a tailor to the stars?”

— Eleyr, CNS

Emery grinned cheekily as she accepted the mug, “Easy more folks to make cloths for, inspiration for creating more designs, and finding more silks and other fabrics to work with.” she retorted with a delighted laugh, this counselor was the most engaging one she had met thus far in her career and she honestly hoped that there was no one else to match Eleyr. “What enticed you to the stars if I may be so bold to ask?”

Emery McCoy (brat cat in disguise)

“So your trek to the stars was a.. practical move?” Eleyr clarified.

“Be bold, my dear Ensign! What have you got to lose?” Her lips curled in a wide grin, unveiling razor-sharp teeth stained in part by her excess coffee intake. “But to answer your question, I was escorted by curiosity, love.. and inevitable heartbreak. But we don’t need to discuss Krexuja. I’m sure karma has enacted its fury on her.” She wrinkled her nose, pale eyes growing heavy by the Krexuja’s memory. “Anyway, I stayed I developed an interest for the inner workings of the mind and, well, the rest is history.”

“Now,” Eleyr redirected the conversation, “tell me about your inner flame. What excites you? What drives your needle through a tedious stitch? What do you yearn for in your career?” Her questions sounded not unlike a rapid-fire interview, but she didn’t look for answers to every curiosity, rather the question her patient gravitated to.. and why.

– Eleyr, CNS

“Inner flame haven’t heard that term in a while,” Emery murmured softly before she spoke up, “I like creating, I like meeting new folks, I like exploring, games, and still trying to find my place I guess.” She pondered as she sipped her hot chocolate, the marshmellows were a bit of a surprise at first, she had gotten used to her peppermint pieces scattered into her hot chocolate she forgot most went for other things. It wasn’t off putting just a surprise and it brought out a different texture and flavor to the hot chocolate, “As for what do I yearn for in my career, I hadn’t really thought beyond each day as it goes, no one asks for the same thing at the same time so it is always a new design or challenge. If that changes I will bring it up when that happens I guess.”

Emery McCoy, Yeoman Tailor (brat cat in disguise)

Eleyr studied the woman for several seconds, her fingers tapping aimlessly against her PaDD. “Hmm..” she seemed to growl, but she made no effort to elaborate. “It sounds like you live in the moment,” she observed, “taking every step without forethought but the force to process and react as matters arise.” There was a vaguely approving tone in her words, but it was impossible to separate it from her harsh rumbles. “Is this a fair observation?”

Emery nodded her head, “That’s pretty spot on yes.” She said as she eyed the counselor with a cheeky grin.

“You mentioned you’re ‘still trying to find [your] place’,” she continued, “what do you consider someone’s ‘place’?”

— Eleyr, CNS

“Where they feel free to be themselves.” Emery replied without pause, “Wherever feels like home that’s not where you grew up.” She added with a grin. “I hope it’s here but it might not be so I will just have to wait and see.”

Emery McCoy, Yeoman Tailor (brat cat in disguise)

Eleyr grumbled, taking a generous sip from the marshmallow-laden mug in her hand. “Wait?” She cast the vessel aside and leaned conspiratorially toward the younger woman. “Your trade is an art of creativity, precision and control. Is it not?” Her gaze hardened, tainted with flickers of provocation. “Why not apply those tenets to your life? Write yourself into the narrative and make a place wherever your travels take you. Why submit to the universe’s absolute ‘place’, when you could have many?”

— Eleyr, CNS


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