[Ten Forward]: Rooming Assignments + Holiday Open House!

[trial_never_ends]

Hmmm, something seems a little different about the Chief of Security today. His beautifully ridged countenance hasn't been seen for quite some time at the head of one of these little initiations, but now that Dr. Crusher's medical team has cleared a sizable number of new cattle for ship-wide access, and they've been carted around by Chief O'Brien on a tour of the ship, along with some background to the situation they now find themselves in, they've been mooooved right along to Lieutenant Worf in Ten Forward.

He looks at his data PADD, with all of his boring instructions and tedious details meticulously written out, and rolls his eyes. Rules, really? What harm could these people really do?

"The computer will instruct you on where all cleared-for-access decks are. You only have to ask where the area you are trying to get to is located, and it will give you clear directions. Do not visit any restricted areas. The bridge, engine rooms, transporter rooms, command centers, blah, blah-blah, blah blah, are all off-limits.

"Before you're assigned a room, there are a few rules you must obey, though I honestly don't know what could be done to stop you. One, do not discharge any weapon while on the Enterprise. Two, do not assault any other passenger aboard in any way; that includes injury, death, or violating their personal rights. Three, do not tamper with the operational procedures of the ship. Four, do not steal items or technology from the ship. Five, do not interrupt any official areas of the ship without proper authorization, and do not invade the privacy of other guest or crew quarters, good grief, this list just goes on forever, doesn't it?

"They want you to read the Prime Directive?! Boring. If you care to see that drivel you can look it up on your own personal PADDs, which will be available in every room. Now, how about something more interesting?"

With a flick of his wrist, the PADD disappears. Cracking his knuckles, "Worf" proceeds to snap his fingers and a flurry of snow whooshes through the room. When the proverbial dust settles, Ten Forward has been decked out in an array of holiday cheer. The windows are frosted, the bar is dusted in snow, a model train choo-choos its way around people's ankles out one door and back in the other. There is a traditional Earth tree in one corner with an endless pile of gifts stacked under it, but other worlds, cultures, and religions have not been left out. Everywhere one looks, there's a different kind of festive decoration.

"La, dee dum, dum," Worf hums, snapping his fingers again and causing a spread of food and drinks to appear on each and every table and surface: candies, cakes, mulled wines, chocolates, pheasants, yams, bol'ghba, and an abundance of other unpronounceable delicacies. "There. Now isn't that better? Never say I didn't do anything for you.

"Oh! That's right, the rooms," he recalls, clapping his hands. He pulls the PADD back out of the ether, reading off the list of quarters, their location, and the guests who will be sharing them.

Deck 07, Section 4
Room # 0713 - Kristen Kringle and Kuvira
Room # 0731 - Olan'atar and Sophia Inks
Room # 0737 - Bonnie Barstow and KITT (hologram)
Room # 0746 - Sterling Archer and Kira

Deck 8
Room # 0147 - T'Pol and Katniss Everdeen

Deck 9
Room # 0919 - Henry Mills and Matt Murdock
Room # 0921 - Pete Lattimer and Clara Oswald

"Now, won't that be fun?" Worf concludes, with a large, toothy grin. "Remember, it's only fun until Captain Picard has a heart attack, and then your actions are all on your own heads. Oh! Speaking of heads ... "

With one last snap, the Lieutenant in full dress before them morphs into what appears to be a Caucasian human male. No vestiges of the Klingon remain, and as such the man now lets out a long, grateful sigh. "It's good to be home."

For the foreseeable future, Ten Forward will remain in this state, and the doors to the guest quarters will stay open so each new arrival along with the old faithful can experience the full joy and beauty of the holiday season with each other. The corridors are all covered in frost, a pleasant nip in the air, and over the internal comms a song begins to play. The list of new assignments is also displayed on a PADD in Ten Forward, where people can refer to it if they need to.




[ooc: Happy Holidays, at least for the next few days! This log is both a party post for holiday shenanigans and an open log for new roomies (or old ones!) to build CR and meet their neighbors. We'll have a few special holiday top levels for gifts, but otherwise you can tag directly into the post with your character, their room number, and who they're looking for (or leave it OTA)!

Rooms are aligned the way they would be in a typical hotel: odd numbers on the left, even numbers on the right (so 0711 and 0713 will be next door neighbors, while 0712 is directly across the hall). There's a post in the OOC comm for OOC questions and comments! If you need to ask security questions, or need them to swing by another thread, just put "Security officer, please!" in the subject line of your tag, and the mods will send someone to you ASAP. The tour given by Chief O'Brien is not open for tagging; you can assume your character had any basic questions answered. ]

Comments

As you wish! You may end up with more CR with two, if this ends up short

[trial_never_ends]

"Ah, if it isn't the galactic gypsy and his stunning blue box," he says, intentionally combative. He smiles at Cridhe. "Yes, this shape is definitely more ... flattering on you."

The smile drops when he turns back to the Doctor. He's here by his invitation, after all! Couldn't he muster a little gratitude? At least a little courtesy? "I doubt that. The Collective knows all about you, but you know nothing of me, Traveler. What do you know of space and time? You're but a boy to me."

XD

[not_the_question]

Not too long ago, the Doctor encountered a 'hostile Santa'. He can handle combat, Q. But when Q's focus shifts to Cridhe, he might shift in his seat, just a little, because he is much more protective of her than he will ever properly admit.

Cridhe remains a silent observer for now. Though she finds it curious that Q isn't more interested in her. Given what he just said to the Doctor, he should be.

The Doctor, other than that small shift, simply holds his focus on Q.

"I know enough about Space and Time to know that age only matters to those who feel threatened. You brought us here, have crippled our ability to interact with the universe around us. But, if you know all about me, then you should know there is one thing you should never ever do: allow more than one of me to be present at any one time."

[trial_never_ends]

"Threatened?" he repeats, feigning shock. "Why, Doctor, let's not bring threats into the conversation. It is a party, after all!"

He snaps his fingers and a pair of party hats appear, one atop the Doctor's head and the other atop Cridhe's. Q has a noisemaker between his lips, which he immediately puts to use. Such an indelicate instrument. He prefers the french horn for festiveness, but it suits little for conversation. And does he notice that awkward shift? Oh, yes. Yes, he does, and he finds it delicious.

"If you have complaints with how you interact with the universe around you, mon ami, perhaps your quibble is with the Captain and not me," he hums, fingers steepled. He knows precisely the direction this conversation is headed in, and he toys with the Doctor like a cat with a piece of string. "Should I, indeed? Well, that's quite a warning. Why is that, do you think?"

[cridhe]

The Doctor looks up at the hat on his head. A hint of rage bubbling under the surface. Cridhe reaches out a hand to steady him. That's one of the benefits of having a fleshy form now.

"No human can prevent my ability to manipulate Time and Space. Nor prevent the Doctor from entering my box form. And yet both have happened."

Her tone has a slight edge to it. Meaning the moment she or the Doctor find a way to remove her ring, she will find Q and free the others.

She is ancient compared to the Doctor. But she will not discuss age, for she suspects even she is a great deal younger than Q.

[trial_never_ends]

"No human indeed," he answers, with a gravity in his voice that suggests there is more seriousness than simple offhanded threats beneath his otherwise convivial tone. "Not adjusting well to having one's wings clipped, are we? It is such an inconvenience being forced to traverse time and space at the whims of another, isn't it?"

He clucks softly, approximating genuine sympathy.

"Such rebellious creatures. A trait until now I've always credited the human race for mastering, but I wonder what thoughts are circling through those pretty little heads? Perhaps some vague notion that you'll find a way to free yourself from your universal LoJack and come back for the rest of the travelers aboard? Maybe the thought of revenge has even crossed your mind, the delicious weight of comeuppance tantalizing your tongue, wooing your gluttony into visions of heroism and the prevailing ideal of good versus evil as you sit astride your ivory tower, untouched by the rest of the universe doomed to the tedious journey of chronology?"

He does love a younger woman. They are so spunky.

His head tilts back to the Doctor, expression unchanged. "Do I seem to you at all threatened by having more than one of you both here at once? If I wished it, with a snap of my fingers I could will the other nine permutations of your whole into existence at this very table. A paradox is nothing compared to the power of the Q. You think too much of yourselves for what you are. Ender of the Time War, destroyer of Gallifrey, jury, judge, and executioner to those you have stranded throughout time. All such fancy titles for what you really are: a coward—" He looks at Cridhe. "—and a thief."

[not_the_question]

It takes the Doctor pinning her in place with a look to prevent Cridhe from responding verbally or physically. She gets out one thing, though.

"Of course I stole him."

The Doctor doesn't lean in to her. He just looks at her. "Cridhe, don't give him what he wants."

She nods. The Doctor crosses his arms and looks Q over. His voice is calm. "I am a coward. Every time. I've never denied it."

[trial_never_ends]

"Why, my dear," Q laughs. "I didn't say it was such a terrible thing, did I?"

It is far too late for such warnings, Doctor. He finds her fascinating. Truly a beautiful invention. There are few things in all of time and space that he admits to having any amount of true fascination with, but the curly-haired vixen sitting in front of him is one of those things. Sexy indeed.

"Nor should you," he says, looking back at the Doctor with far less intrigue in his eyes. "Your ability to admit what you are is what makes you one of your better halves — or thirteenths, if you want to cut hairs. You've been running for over two-thousand years—" He glances at Cridhe pointedly before continuing. "Or perhaps even longer. You're so evasive with your age, Doctor. Could it be you're a little sensitive about it?"

He leans back, no longer finding the conversation as interesting. It's much more fun when they're being combative. "Is your real complaint perhaps that you've never been forced to stay in one spot for over a millennium? What does the Doctor do when he can't run away?"

[not_the_question]

Cridhe did remain silent this time. More interested than she should be in what the Doctor's response to the niggling will be.

"As I said. Age doesn't matter. No. My real complaint is that you've allowed my house to be brought aboard this ship and then denied me access."

He'll not mention the symbiotic link between a Time Lord and TARDIS. He will not give information that Q can use as weapons. Instead he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver-plated cigarette box. He pops it open and presents it to Q.

"Have a Jelly Baby?"

[trial_never_ends]

"Your house? An interesting choice of words." He tips his head back and ponders this for a time. "Also a subjective choice. Technically the ship belongs to one of your other counterparts."

Isn't it always the way? Claim unity when it fits their whims, claim separateness when it's better suited. "What would prevent you from going inside and flying away, or changing the course of this future? You can still see your house. Touch it; speak to it. But I think you're missing the point."

He pulls up short at the offer.

"A what?"

[cridhe]

Oh she cannot stay silent now.

"I do not make such distinctions about him."

The tone says 'nor should anyone else.'

"He lives within me. Ground me if you must, but preventing him from entering me is quite unacceptable."

For both of them. At the offer of a Jelly Baby, she leans over and takes one. She's grown quite addicted to them, even if the Doctor would argue that the replicator doesn't get them quite right.

"It's candy."

[trial_never_ends]

"Our children would be both beautiful and spirited," he says to her, his chin resting on his hand. Picard has it all wrong if he's not jealous of these visitors. Q is finding so many interesting creatures among them.

Anticipating a frown from Cridhe's companion that would be more terrifying if Q were a few millennia younger, he carries on. "Have the crew not provided a more than suitable living situation for you? Spacious quarters, clothing, shelter, and all the food you could eat? Free of any cost? No, thank you."

The last sentence is directed at the tin of candy with a sneer.

[cridhe]

It's Cridhe's turn to stay the Doctor, because while violence and killing is against his basic programming, he's been known to do it anyway. The Doctor takes a Jelly Baby for himself, and shrugs off Q's reaction. Then he pockets the case.

Cridhe on the other hand is measuring Q. And she herself would like to destroy him. Thing is, but for the ring, she actually has the power to do such.

"If you knew anything about me, you would know that is impossible."

She isn't designed for having children.

"Whatever they can provide, it is not home, but I doubt you would understand the concept if it slapped you."

Because she just might.

[trial_never_ends]

"But wouldn't it still be fun to try?"

It's designed with the intent of riling them both. Not to say the interest isn't genuinely there, but Q is well aware of who she is and generally finds the practice of conception among most races a ghastly, indelicate affair. He tugs the string a little more, waiting to see which kitten pounces.

"There is only one way to find out," he taunts.

[not_the_question]

Cridhe's face falls at the continued taunting. Even back when she was simply a plant, she didn't reproduce like that. But now... she doesn't quite reproduce at all. And certainly not in the form she's given herself.

The Doctor, however is nearly to the boiling point. Not because of the topic in general, but the taunting against his TARDIS. His home.

"Well. I know all I need to know now."

His voice is heavy with an unspoken threat. He considers leaving, but Cridhe seems frozen to her seat so he will wait until she is ready.