Spiced up

Posted on Sat Nov 16th, 2024 @ 9:05pm by Rynlan Nemari & Jerant van Rijn

Mission: Character Development
Location: Mess hall
Timeline: After Q
2763 words - 5.5 OF Standard Post Measure

Still trying to process the odd adventure he'd been thrown into, Jerant had found himself a table near the window. The sight of the stars was somehow soothing and grounding. He had debated visiting the holodeck and run it off, but thought that busying himself with a linguistic challenge was probably a better idea.

Occasionally reaching for his cup of tea, and completely forgetting about breakfast, the Betazoid was lost in his work and oblivious to the world around him.

There had at least been a night's sleep for most between the escapades with an unwarranted abduction by an omnipotent being and the many incidents of manhandling. Ryn struggled to find rest and woke much earlier than normal, the creases of age were deeper and his usual tidy and well-kept exterior showed some signs of wear. A simple long-sleeved blue henley and tan pants were the most he could muster.

Fuelled by black coffee and finger-combed hair, the Orion had prepped slow-cooked meats and several doughs. They had proved, and he meticulously shaped them into neat knotted rolls, brushed them with melted butter, and sprinkled them with fine seeds. He’d successfully put them in to bake and was looking for solace in another cup of coffee.

From the kitchen, he pulled his apron over his head and messily stashed it behind the counter before glancing around the Mess Hall. Despite no longer being in an overtly oversized dress Ryn did recognise Jerant van Rijn, and there was a lowering of his gaze as he processed this. One hand grabbed the pot of hot coffee and the other pulled over an empty mug. There was a deep tired exhale followed by a pinch of his lips as he poured. He seemed as nonchalant as previously and this didn’t surprise the Chef.

Sensing something he couldn't quite place, the Betazoid looked up and glanced squarely at the Orion. Seeing the pot of coffee in his hand, he smiled and waved the man over while holding up his more than half empty cup. "Morning chef," he called out, "what are you making because that smells just divine!"

Being noticed caused Ryn a sense of dread. His chest tightened, and he held his breath, thinking of a reason not to go over. It wasn’t in his mentality to be purposefully rude, so he put down the coffee pot and took a reserved swig of its hot, black contents before making his way around the counter.

On his way past, he picked up a plate and collected a few pastries with a click-clack of the tongs. He strides confidently toward Jerant and his flamboyant beckon. “Good morning, Mister van Rijn. These are pastries, and I have some meat braising and some bread rolls baking.” He answers, placing down the plate in front of the other man.

“I do hope they taste as good as they smell. I’ve been trying to mix things up a bit.” It was a very apt response, though it seemed a little on the nose.

Jerant managed a disappointed look when the coffee pot wasn't brought over as well but his expression brightened at the offer of sweets. "Jerant, or Jer," he offered, "no need to be so formal. I'm a civvie just like you." He sniffed at the plate then tasted one of the offerings. "Nothing like fresh bread that's still warm," he agreed, "and this is just heavenly. You're a wizard in that kitchen for sure. And I'm glad we got out of that story alright. Wouldn't have wanted to miss this...or make anyone else missing out."

His expression changed as dark eyes settled on the chef. "How have you been since we were returned?"

“It’s a force of habit when you’ve not been properly introduced to someone. I try to let the Starfleet in me drop but it's still got a hold.” The Orion’s eyes dropped to Jerant’s cup, taking a moment to realise that he’d missed the hint entirely from being lost in his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I was completely oblivious. Let me get that for you.” Ryn quickly moved back toward the counter to bring over the coffee pot, topping up his cup and setting it down on the table.

The plate had a thick slice of a strudel-like pastry with a firm spiced plum filling, a fluffy cloud choux pastry brimming with whipped cheese and herb cream and a rolled spiced sweet bread drizzled with a sweet citrus glaze. “Cooking is a passion, it goes well with Xenobotany which was my career.” He explained with a faint smile. He took a seat opposite Jerant and clasped his own cup in his hands.

The Orion gave a measured hum as he considered the most diplomatic answer to the loaded question. “Restless to say the least. And yourself?”

"Debating going back to the holodeck...I get you're restless, I can sense it, but I'll be honest...I actually enjoyed my part for the most part... having grown up with demanding sisters, being the one to call the orders for once was actually nice."

Ryn’s jaw tensed hidden under his beard but the being on his neck potentially gave away his frustration. “It was very apparent you were enjoying yourself.” He paused thinking over his words but there was no real way of tempering the lack of consideration that the other man had shown. “There was a clear lack of thought toward the others around you. You don’t know me. The way I was treated by another member of the crew; no matter the situation has left- well a bad taste in my mouth.”

"In all fairness chef...you don't know me either. And we did have a part to play in that story and I did the best I knew how. Given my origin, I can't help but having enjoyed it. I'm sorry you felt mistreated, or didn't feel considered, I really am. But I did try to guide you towards your purpose in the story. And in the actual fairy tale, the frog wasn't well considered either. And in truth, the Vulcan lady giving logical analysis didn't help either. I don't know what her part or the Bolian's part was....so I did the best I knew how. I only know the story because my grandmother told it to me and my sisters when I was little." He paused, waving the man down to sit across from him. "The frog was a prince to my recollection, made into a frog because he was a haughty being with no consideration for anyone."

“You’re right, I don’t know you. However, I know you are a part of this crew and expected to treat other crew members and civilians respectfully. Perhaps this is the part of my Starfleet training that I just can’t seem to shake, consent is a big part.” The Orion’s eyes narrowed at the further torrent of words and what felt like excuses for behaviour. He gave a reserved breath and looked down into his cup.

“I feel that a line needs to be drawn. I didn’t pick my part and neither did you. The story isn’t one I’m familiar with and I have no interest in exploring that further.” There was a pinch of his lips and he refrained from commenting about the positions of others in the story. Ryn wasn’t sure if the comparison to the character in the story was a backhanded compliment or perhaps he needed to take a step back from the conversation. “This is not the kind of story from an Orion childhood.”

Jerant leaned forward, interest piqued. "It's not a story from a Betazoid childhood either," he reminded the other alien, "what would be a Orion story though? Perhaps you could tell me one,or a few? Perhaps explore those?"

Ryn’s brows raised in thought as he considered what stories might be the least socially unacceptable. “There’s the girl who wove the stars … which is about women embracing their sensuality as a strength to influence others. Or perhaps the Green Serpent and the Star Queen? A young man is given the impossible task of stealing a crown from the Star Queen, guarded by powerful brutish warriors with advanced technology ….” His lips pinched slightly ashamed of the repetition of each story shared.

“It’s all about using others to your advantage to get what you want, gaining power and getting the upper hand. Perhaps a little more physical than Ferengi.” His head gently shook as he sipped from his cup. “I didn’t exactly fit in with family ideals or cultural norms. The son of a pirate crew who was more interested in how the cargo grew than how much it was worth.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips, “What about you?”

"What about me what?" Jerant asked, "and who gains power? Is it true that it's really the Orion women holding power, rather than the men? And what's wrong with occasionally using the power you have to your own advantage."

“It depends on the story.” Ryn answered, “Not always the women in more modern history but as a race it's more acceptable to expose your physical prowess either as stature or aesthetics. Power comes in many forms, most in these fables take the less favourable. We’re thought to have been a slave race, so the cultural urge to no longer be held back and use our biological advancements such as pheromones and prowess.”

He realised that it may not have been the answer Jerant was looking for but it was not a conversation he wanted to have. Power caused a lot of issues within his family and in the wider groups within society. “I think there’s been enough use of power to get advantages.”

Jerant nodded. "The stigma sticks," he answered after a moment of thought. "People still think the men are in charge, and you sell your women. But I've heard other stories too, that it's really the women who have the power." He smiled. "I'm glad you found your way, away from all that. Good food is still hard to come by." He nodded towards the plate. "Real food, not that replicated economic stuff. Nothing beats real food, right?"

The Orion nodded, he was not the biggest or the most accomplished in combat or tactics. He was the runt. “It does.” His lips pressed together again in thought at the widespread wisdom. “I spent 30 years serving in Starfleet before I settled down with my wife and opened my restaurant on Earth, not far from the Academy. I think the process of making food is very different to replicated food. It has its purpose and its place.”

"Is your wife here with you?" The Betazoid asked curiously, "or do you have children to care for and does she reside on a starbase?" He knew that the Athena wasn't suited to carry families with children, at least young children. An older teenager, he imagined, could be useful as a trainee of some sort. Thirty years though... "I wasn't even born when you entered Starfleet," he grinned sheepishly in afterthought, "I suppose if you have children they're probably of an age to give you grandchildren instead?"

Orions were naturally repellant to telepathic reads, it was a useful part of their biology. However, this wouldn’t be needed to gauge Ryn’s response. There was a look down into his cup taking a moment to form an explanation for all of those comments and questions. “She’s always with me, but sadly, she died several years ago.”

He briefly made eye contact with the man across the table, “We were both Starfleet officers, it didn’t make it easy to start a family, so we didn’t. We adventured our way through the Universe. So no children but plenty of nieces and nephews.” A faint smile curled the corner of his lips and drained the last of his coffee. “We had lots of good times.”

Even though he couldn't read the Orion -not that he had tried at that - he did sense the wave of emotions that came from the other man. "I'm sorry," he offered sincerely, "that was very senseless of me to ask." Even though he couldn't have known this. "I'd love to have children at some point in my life, but that will be a challenge on its own. I'm not in a hurry though, though I don't have any nieces or nephews yet. Soon though, the latest news I have is that my older sister got married and she's with child."

“It’s not senseless if you don’t know, and we’ve never had a proper introduction before now.” Ryn answered, trying to comfort the man. “It’s not so much of a challenge these days, there are so many options even if you can’t find the right person. But there is a saying from some cultures that it takes a village to raise a child.”

He listened to Jerant’s news about his sister with a gentle nod. “Welcome to Uncle territory. The ability to give back the child once you’ve worn them out to being cranky and filled them with sugars.” A playful smile crossed his lips, there was a pang of regret of what might have been but the pair had achieved so much and seen so many things. “Some things take time. I wasn’t even looking or interested when this confident Andorian Engineer kept looking through my botanical samples. It was most frustrating.”

"Might be a while yet. Still month until the due date." He dipped his now cold coffee and wrinkled his nose in disgust as he set the cup down. "Your wife was Andorian?" Now that was an interesting combination. "My mother and sisters fortunately have given up on trying to pawn me off to a wife. I'd rather have a husband, and I don't need him to wait at home to make supper. He can have his own career as long as he does come home to me."

“Might be a while? A month goes so quickly in comparison.” The Orion raised his brows and chuckled slightly. His lips pressed together to form a hum: “Mhmm. Yes. Well, pawning people off is something I was used to seeing. However, the heart wants what it wants. Relationships are complicated, especially when you’re based on ships. Communication and space test the strengths and weaknesses of a relationship's foundations.”

Many a marriage or relationship had been broken down by quick moves or a moment of weakness by someone. “It used to be difficult when we were both stationed on ships together, it was nice to be so close, not every relationship needs that.” Ryn shrugged, “We did our own thing and looked forward to the times we spent together, no matter how short.”

"The women deciding on a man's match is common in Betazoid culture. A mother wanting her son to marry well and try to make a good match is common practice. My mother is no different nor are my sisters. It's simply part of our culture, except for the fact that I want a husband, not a wife and that's what they'll need to accept and finally seem to have done." Jerant shrugged as well. "I'm seeing someone," he added, "and I did tell mother, but I haven't introduced him yet." He smiled a little now. "It's my first relationship, so we'll see how it goes."

Ryn’s lips pressed together, amused at the thought of more cultural norms being pushed onto others much like his own family attempted. “I hope it goes well.” His eyes lowered to Jerant’s cold coffee, “Would you like another?”

"No, I really should get back to work. But if you could send the recipe if that amazing pastry to my replicator, I'd be grateful." He picked up his empty mug and plate. "I'll recycle these. Thank you for your time chef, and I'd love to try more at another time."

The mention of sending the recipe to the replicator stung, but Orion didn’t let it show. “Of course. I’ll send that over so you can enjoy them any time.” Ryn gave a courteous smile and waved the man off with a bow of his head and returned the coffee pot to the counter to refresh it for the next patrons he might come across.