It's all in the dress

Posted on Sat Sep 28th, 2024 @ 12:04pm by Rynlan Nemari & Jerant van Rijn

Mission: Into the Qniverse
Timeline: Following: Golden Bawls
2746 words - 5.5 OF Standard Post Measure

Happy to have his ball back, Princess Jerant returned to the castle and told his parents, the king and queen, all about what had happened. He changed into a more comfortable -if such a thing was possible!- dress for supper and glided down the steps -carefully!- towards the dining hall.

Quietly he slipped into his seat, wiggling around a few times this get all that annoying fabric into such a place that he was actually comfortable. He found he was famished and was eagerly waiting for the servants to show up with their lavish dinner.

Zorak had been siphoned off to complete his purpose as a servant, leaving Ryn with T’Lar and Jerant. He seemed only too happy to explain things to the monarchy of the kingdom, who reinforced that the ‘Princess’ be sure to keep any promises that had been made.

What the promises were Ryn was not entirely sure, neither he nor T’Lar seemed completely up to speed on the story whilst Jerant was reapplying layers of Tulle and lace. The banquet table was lined with at least a dozen of what they had guessed was the royal court, T’Lar held Ryn in the flat of her hand and looked for a logical place to set him down beside the Princess. “What do we do now?” Ryn croaked barely audible above the table chatter.

The Bolian medical assistant looked decidedly unhappy as he carried in a platter of food toward the head of the table, narrowing his eyes and Jerant.

Jerant listened as the king told him that a promise made was a promise kept, so an extra plate was set next to his for the frog. "Oh well," he said, gesturing for the slippery creature to be brought over. "He can sit at the table and eat with us," he stated, somewhat unhappily. He glanced down at the frog. "You better not make a mess of things or spill on my dress."

Various plates of vegetables, meats and loaves of bread were laid out across the banquet table, the quality of which was suitable for the estimated era however they left a lot to be desired for Ryn’s delicate palette. He manoeuvred himself across the table until he found something that caught his fancy, a bowl of warm thick something, it smelt like the safest option.

He applied weight to the serving spoon; ungracefully, it tumbled out of the bowl with a splatter. It landed closer to him, allowing his frog tongue to flick out and sample the thick, lumpy dish. Stewed grains with basic building blocks for flavour. It wasn’t terrible, but it was the best he could manage. From the surrounding seats at the table, there were whispers of disgust. Ryn’s eyes darted to Jerant, Zorak, and T’Lar, checking they had his back.

Jerant too wore a -feigned- expression of disgust as the frog seemed to make a mess of things. "You're supposed to ask for help," he hissed at the chef, while schooling his expression into one of disinterest as he continued to spoon up his own soup. Delicately, as he didn't want to spill anything on the beautiful lace dress he'd selected for this occasion.

After being berated by Jerant, Ryn tucked himself back toward T’Lar and Zorak. The entire premise of the caper had the Orion feeling as awkward as his enlistment into Starfleet. Thala was much more adventurous than he was, reminding him of how his positive personality waned when he became a target. “Can I be excused?” He asked looking toward the Princess hopefully. “I didn’t mean to make a mess. It’s hard not being able to do things myself.” He admitted quietly barely audible above the torrent of conversation and snide comments.

The Betazoid pushed his plate away as an indication he was done. He paused a few seconds as he tried to recall the story. Was he supposed to carry the frog upstairs, or was it meant to follow him? He wasn't sure so, schooling his expression into one of disgust once more, he picked up the creature with one hand and his skirts with the other and announced he was retiring for the night.

"I'll require assistance getting out of all these layers," he told the other two as clearly at least one of them was supposed to be his servant. They scaled the steps up to the princess's quarters and he deposited the frog onto the bed. Quietly, he waited for the other two to come help because he didn't want to end up tearing the beautiful dress by trying to do it himself.

Ryn let out an uncomfortable squeak at being manhandled - again. T’Lar kept a close pace and Zorak stumbled against the flow of traffic to follow his royal highness. The twisting staircase and difference in size for Ryn was very disorientating, resulting in him keeping his body low until he was plopped down onto the dry crisp material of the bed. This was perhaps just as uncomfortable as the gravel, more so that it clung with every movement.

“WHY ARE THERE SO MANY STAIRS!” Zorak complained loudly as he shut the door behind them, “I didn’t even get to try any food.” He stood a moment and narrowed his eyes at Jerant’s expectant look. “OH! That’s my job.” He clambered forward again and looked at the mixture of lacing and fastenings.

T’Lar stood silently, taking in the scene with a measured glance. Jerant’s expectation hung in the air, and Zorak’s clumsy fumbling only added to the awkwardness. Without a word, she moved forward with quiet efficiency, her fingers easily unravelling the intricate laces and fastenings of the dress. “It would be more practical to expedite this process,” she said, her tone calm and unwavering, as though unaffected by the commotion around her.

Jerant sighed a breath of relief as the tightly wound dress slipped to the ground, leaving him shivering for a moment. "Gown," he suggested quietly to the Bolian, "I know I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself but that's not how things work here, sorry. And we should play this right..."

“Mister van Rijn was it?” Ryn cleared his throat with a loud croak, “I know this may be a game and a story but we are part of the same crew, a little common courtesy may go a long way.” The frog had very clearly been rubbed up the wrong way by the Betazoid’s nonchalance toward them all.

Zorak awkwardly looked around for the item Jerant had requested, unceremoniously rummaging through layers of fabric, holding up various pieces. Be offering something that sort of fits the description.

The Betazoid held up his arms so the nightgown could be slipped on and then he walked over to the bed. He yelped in surprise as he disappeared between the covers, the mattress a hell of a lot softer than he expected and was used to. "You two can retire for the night. There's probably an adjacent servant room as I have no doubt they remain close in case of being called upon." Settling himself he peered along the covers. "Get up on the pillow next to mine," he suggested to the frog, then closed his eyes.

T'Lar stood quietly by the door, hands clasped behind her back as the scene unfolded. She listened without reaction to the Chef’s outburst before speaking, her tone measured. "Given the unpredictability of our situation, it would be wise for us to stay together tonight. There may be... unexpected developments and close proximity ensures we can respond quickly if needed." Her gaze shifted to the others, calm but resolute, making it clear this was more than a suggestion. "We can use the adjacent room, or remain here if that proves more convenient.”

“She’s not wrong … there’s plenty of bedding here … Grab something and settle down,” Ryn added in agreement, the bed was impractical and sticking to him. It seemed that it was enough excitement for the aide who had already called it a night. “Is there a wash basin or a cup I can put on the bed? If I’m going to be sat here I don’t dry out.”

Zorak was only too happy to assist, pulling out a blanket and a pillow from beside Jerant and T’Lar took a position with her back against the door, the moon casting light through the ornate glass window. Ryn settled into a shallow dish the Bolian had managed to fill with a jug from the dresser and sat it down on the empty space where the pillow had been. Slowly the group drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Jerant slipped out of bed and gently nudged the Vulcan woman. "Help me pick out a dress," he told her. "Zorak, run the bath please...I desire to be clean before breakfast." Purposefully, he ignored the frog, almost daring him to make himself known.

Being a peaceful creature of habit Ryn had said his piece and it had still gone unnoticed. His sleep had been broken and on edge throughout the night and it wasn’t just him. He had noticed that rather than sleeping T’Lar seemed to be in a meditative state. Zorak on the other hand slept awkwardly in a pile like a coiled feline.

The Bolian rolled onto his back and stretched out his limbs with a loud groan, awkwardly propping himself up on his elbows, “Run a bath?” He asked scratching his creased forehead. “They have legs here?”

The Vulcan opened an eye and swooped up to stand in a single fluid motion, following being nudged by Jerant. “I will assist you in selecting an appropriate garment,” she observed Zorak’s groggy confusion for a moment before addressing him. "The term 'run the bath' refers to filling it, not the expectation of movement. The bath has feet, not legs, as part of its design." Her explanation was matter-of-fact. "While your concern is noted, Mister Nemari, it is essential to remember that we are operating within the constraints of this fictional scenario. Mister van Rijn’s actions, though unconventional, serve to maintain his role within the narrative.” A beat. ”However, it would be prudent for us all to remain mindful of our conduct, as adherence to proper protocol may impact the outcome of events.”

The amphibious Orion growled quietly in distaste and simmered his anger. “Perhaps but courtesy goes a long way.”

“Right, right! Fill it with water.” Zorak clambered to his feet and sought out the device, a tub was stashed behind a fold-out divider and he scraped it across the floor in front of the dying fire. A distinct look of confusion formed as he realised he would need to carry water to fill it up.

T’Lar offered an assortment of garments for the Princess's approval, ready for him to have bathed and continue the narrative as required.

Jerant shook his head in amusement, clearly enjoying himself. When the bath was finally ready he slipped behind the privacy screen and shrugged out of the sleeping gown. With a sigh, he slid into the warm water. He didn't take too long however and got himself dry, not wanting to embarrass his companions with his state of undress. Wearing just undergarments, he re-appearesd, fully expecting T'Lar to assist him with yet another absurdly wide and long dress. "How do women do this, and not constantly trip?" He asked of the only female in their party.

Ryn hopped his way from the saucer on the bed to the open window’s edge, looked out at the greenery in the glorious golden hour whilst Jerant did as he pleased. Despite being in immediate company with members of the crew, he felt alone. Thala would have revelled in such a situation, she was so adaptable.

Zorak pawed through the different fabrics and dresses from behind the curtain, “If this is ye olden earth times, how did they have so much stuff? This kind of stuff was supposed to be hard to come by? It’s expensive right? When you-”

“Crewman Zorak, as you have noted, such garments were indeed considered a luxury, reserved for formal occasions. Now, if you are able to focus on the task at hand, we should continue preparing for the next part of this narrative.” She directed a glance toward Jerant, ready to assist him further. “I would not be familiar with wearing long formal gowns myself, as they are typically impractical in my line of work for the reasons you’ve already mentioned.”

"Then you should use the opportunity to wear one," Jerant commented dryly, thrusting one of the dresses at her. "As my handmaiden you need to look the part anyway." He finished getting dressed and caught his reflection in the mirror, then turned his head towards the window as a wave of sadness seemed to wash over him.

Leaving the other two, he walked over and scooped the frog up with his hands. "You need to find your voice...." He suggested, "promises need to be kept and you need to be louder about it. If we are to play this by the fairytale rules, then my part needs to be selfish, which is contrary to my nature. So...." He set the frog down on the dresser and picked up a brush, holding it out to the Vulcan woman despite being perfectly capable of brushing his own hair. "Get louder..."

The Vulcan stared blankly as the dress was thrust toward her. “I will decline your offer. From my understanding this far, my participation is not imperative to the conclusion of this narrative.” T’Lar responded firmly before returning the dress to its rightful place. Zorak swarmed over to paw through the dresses with interest at the offer that hadn’t been extended to him.

An angry squeal erupted from Ryn as he was unduly picked up again and handled without caution. “PUT ME DOWN!” If there was a shout from a frog, this was it. “You can’t seem to see how others are being impacted and how they might feel as a result. I am a person too, not a commodity for you to manoeuvre in this … story. Ask for consent. Be empathetic. You’d think you might be a little more -in tune- reading the room.”

Zorak leaned out from behind T’Lar with a dress in each handle comparing the colours against this complexion. “I think Chef is upset.” He hushed toward the Vulcan.

"You are down," Jerant remarked, looking down at the frog, "but then maybe this isn't the version about kept promises... there are other versions and forgive me but I'm rather loath to toss you against the wall...even if your behaviour is a little frustrating..."

The Betazoid paused, glancing around briefly before scooping him up again cradling the frog in both hands. "Perhaps..." He mused as he leaned in to carefully kiss the amphibian across his nose.

If the frog could have been more expressive he would, a scowl with furrowed non-existent brows. Before he could even gather the words to form another angry protest he returned to his large green humanoid self. He looked down at the Betazoid with distaste. While he wasn’t overly muscular he still had the imposing build of a male Orion, tall and broad.

The Bolian gasped and gripped his Vulcan companion's sleeve, dropping the dress to the floor in shock. “I didn’t realise he was that … big.” He whispered more loudly than he realised.

Ryn tensed his jaw, pleased to no longer be able to be moved against his will. However, the gross invasion of his private space was not something he was happy about. “Mister van Rijn,” Jerant’s head was uncomfortably close to his chest, so took a step back. “I feel you could do with a firm lesson in personal space and the consensual boundaries of oth-” The elder’s lecture was interrupted by another blinding flash of light.

Jerant blinked in surprise as they were suddenly returned to the party and he stumbled a few paces back. His dress had been replaced by the casual shirt and shorts he'd been wearing before. "Believe me," he muttered, "kissing a frog wasn't my favourite part of it all... But I'm glad you're you again..."