A Deltan Cosset is a Good Thing Indeed

Posted on Thu Jun 30th, 2022 @ 5:19pm by Lieutenant Roark Sograni

Mission: Prelude: The Gathering
Location: Risa
Timeline: Mission Day 0 at 0600

75 Days Ago

Early morning planet side. Birdsong in counterpoint to the rustle of leaves carried toward him on a spring breeze. The garden bordered in a riot of colors that all but laughed at order and logic. The grass, soft and lush, invited him, which was why, rather than getting ready to leave, Roark sat on the grass, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. The cup was delicately made, sprays of peach and pink curling about its sides, and he found himself trying to match the flowers on the cup to those in the garden.

A rustle of silk, a splash of brilliant geometrics across his peripheral vision, and the owner himself, dropped lightly to the grass beside him with a pot of tea in one hand and a china cup in the other. It didn't match but then nothing in his kitchen matched. Erisen called his decorating style chaotic splendor and it worked. Hadn't every guest at dinner the night before had spent a full ten minutes comparing place settings; Erisen thought of it as being a thoughtful host. Breaching the hesitancy of people who didn't know each other well by introducing something unexpected.

"Does that," Roark said as he gestured from his mug to a bush in set back slightly from a stone figurine, "look alike do you think?"

Erisen looked, first at the Osenia rose bush and then at the mug, head cocked to one side. "There are similarities, I think," he said, "but not quite the same." He paused for a moment, a stillness that precipitated some new idea, and smiled. "Now that is a brilliant idea. A tea service done in a floral motif that matches the garden." He waved his hand at the surroundings. "Not this one, of course, but the one back home on Delta. Wonder how long it will take everyone to figure it out." He nodded, his smile turning sly, and took a sip of tea. "Fun."

"I'm going to miss this," Roark said. His own outfit was less ostentatious, a muted misty green with a mauve and gold vine pattern embroidered on the border; the pajama bottoms visible where the folds of the robe had fallen away from his lean legs, were a soft dove gray, and though they didn't match, they didn't fight each other either. Erisen called him a work in progress; he wouldn't disagree.

"Risa," Erisen asked as he held out the teapot and, when Roark extended his half-emptied cup, filled it before setting it down in the grass on the other side of him. Being Deltan, he was given to casual touches and a slight fascination with Roark's hair which meant that he nearly always sat close by. "Or being planet side?"

"A little of both," Roark said. He kept his eyes on the flowers, soaking in the beauty, imprinting it on his soul, as a harbor against everything that will come. "Ship life is ... somewhat chaotic ... and rather devoid of natural beauty."

"And I won't be there," Erisen said, slanting his eyes slightly to the side, with an amused look on his face, "to keep you from getting too serious."

"And you won't be there," Roark said, his face transformed by an answering smile. "You're an oasis, wherever you are, you know that, right?"

Erisen chuckled. "I'm Deltan," he said. "Kind of goes with the territory." He leaned into Roark's shoulder, his voice dropping to a purr. "But then you're nearly Deltan yourself in some respects. You have a real appreciation for our culture. One that many culturesseem to lack."

Roark turned, his face filled with concern, "you will take that sabbatical, won't you? A month or two on the home world will do you so much good."

"The negotiations are finished; the ship is being prepared. And I have a surprise," Erisen said. "We found a Starfleet vessel heading toward Lambda-2," he shook his head slightly, "terrible name. No grace to it. So, two more weeks with me and then we'll head back to Delta at a leisurely pace where I'll be swept up in a round of parties and get togethers. Full cultural immersion."

"Excellent," Roark said, the meditative quality to his voice dropping away, replaced by pleasure. "I appreciate your going out of your way and all."

"My pleasure," Erisen said and nudged his shoulder again. "I owe you at least one favor as I recall."

"More than one," Roark murmured into his tea. "But I'm not counting. I will send you back tea samples whenever I find a good one, as promised. That apothecary cabinet of yours has some empty drawers just begging to be filled."

"Speaking of things begging to be filled," Erisen said. "There's a truly decadent breakfast waiting for you inside. All the things you love and a few you really need to learn to love."

"I really should pack ..." He laughed. "Who am I kidding?" He surged to his feet and held out a hand to Erisen who accepted and rose smoothly. He picked up his teacup and turned back toward the house, hunger winning out over the beauty surrounding him, to find breakfast laid out on the patio. "... Perfect," he breathed.

"And," Erisen said as he picked up the teapot and his own cup, "your bags are being packed as we speak so you can dawdle unashamed over this sumptious repast. They'll already be on the ship by the time we get there."

"You really are an oasis," Roark said. "Just what I needed."

Erisen shrugged off the compliment and walked, barefoot through the grass, toward the patio with Roark in tow. There were things he knew, understood, as a Deltan, as Roark's friend, and as part of the Deltan embassy. The man had needed cosseting and that was something Erisen understood very well.