Another smile from the counselor for Azami’s mental file, this one carrying a fox’s edge, clever and secretive. She wonders at that for a heartbeat; did her queries spark that particular cast to the grin? Or was it her answers? Something in her movements, or face perhaps (which Azami herself would well-understand)? Or is it a passing thought, with nothing to do with the petty officer at all? But their tour continues without a hiccup, and the petty officer sets her curiosity aside for the moment. It is an odd thing, though, to read so much from a Vulcan, normally obdurate walls with only a few cracks to peer through.
Those ponderings, though, are swept from Azami’s mind when they enter the garden.
She isn’t quite certain
what she expected, but this certainly is not it. At first glance, open area seems nearly natural in its cluttered lack of organization. But after a moment’s perusal, the true chaos becomes clear; even nature has its patterns, and this garden follows few of them. Gathered plants are placed nearly willy-nilly, likely to take best advantage of space rather than provide aesthetic appeal. The scents mingle into a melody, rather than remaining segregated in their own small territories of the garden. Broad, flat leaves war with spiny, jagged ones for the light. Grasses here, a moss there, and…some kind of lichen? And all through it move the blue-shirted attendants, gently caring for their verdant charges. This is no tranquil, meditative garden; it is instead a silent riot for the eyes and nose, a floral fireworks display on a many-textured backdrop. Blinking, Azami turns in a semi-circle, nodding along with T’Lara’s point regarding their good fortune.
”I am glad to have this opportunity be my first glimpse, ma’am,” she quietly states.
”Had I come later, I might never have guessed how beautiful it had been.
Then T’Lara speaks of her past, and Azami loses interest the garden’s splendor, shunting it into the background as she focuses her gaze on the counselor.
Her parents had been exiled? So many questions, with ‘why’ being first, foremost, and utterly impossible to ask; she barely knows the Lieutenant Commander, and prying into a potentially painful past would be unacceptable. Instead, Azami nods her head once.
”That…would explain a great deal,” she gravely admits, her face placid. Inside, though, the young woman ferociously kicks herself, over and over again.
Idiot! Fool twice over! Clamping down on her self-directed annoyance, she offers a small bow again.
“I should have known it would be a private matter; I allowed curiosity to overtake good sense, ma’am. I will only say I hope your situation does not cause you grief or issue in your present circumstances.”
There’s almost no doubt her parents’ exile has impacted T’Lara’s life; how, Azami cannot begin to guess, but growing up outside one’s culture, struggling to adapt to a place where everyone looks, acts, IS different than oneself, and potentially being reminded of that fact every day by people less cruel than simply inconsiderate – and likely the opposite as well – would crack the ground beneath most people’s feet. Azami knows this, all-too-well; her situation is rather different than T’Lara’s own, but if one peers hard enough, one can find similarities between the two without resorting to a microscope. But still…did T’Lara face bias and prejudice from other Vulcans? How did they treat her – quick to judge, condescendingly, or something even worse? Or better, with fairness? Did humans expect one thing – as Azami had – and become uncomfortable when faced with something different? Azami hoped she, herself, had not; the differences between T’Lara and the other Vulcans of her acquaintance had been clear, but had not disturbed her in any way.
Her own reaction to a possible
faux pas in asking, that is a different matter.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:01, Thu 17 June 2021.