" Event Horizon "
[Previous Post "Solving Mysteries Is What Her Life Is All About" by Jessica]
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck One, Observation Lounge
Stardate: 30151.0910

All eyes had fallen on to the only two medical officers in the room at attendance, even Mizore found herself curious about the new ACMO. Namely Ensign Andromeda T’leia, whom she currently knew nothing about, yet. . . Finding herself in the unfortunate circumstance to be in the limelight as it were, which caused her to writhe and twitch inside, still managing to show no evidence of it outwardly. The newly appointed CMO, Mizore, let herself gaze at this new member of the crew.

The first thing to strike the Bajoran was the undeniable Vulcan parentage the woman clearly possessed. The fine appearance, the flawless highborn features, tall tapered and pointed ears, and lack of visual display of emotion. It both excited and stirred her own sense of mysteriously curious interest. :: How or why, here of all places, for a Vulcan to be. :: Was the one and only thought she could concentrate the focus of her attention on, with everything else that ripped through or gripped her mind since 0733.

As Morningstar continued delivering the specifics and details on the business of ship and crew, the unexpected return and arrival of the ILO had been noticed, which quickly caught the eye of everyone in the room. Without hesitation, Mizore could feel herself smile as the Ullian entered, brightening her own expressive features, simultaneously lifting her rising spirit. Not one single member of the crew amidst the officers present in the room could say they were not glad, joyed, or pleased in one way or another to have seen her back to the USS ANUBIS.

The spoken content of the new, upcoming mission coinciding with the Black and White Celebration did little to thrill the Bajoran, as she continued to listen to CO Morningstar relay the outlined mission parameters. There had been millions of questions the CMO wanted to voice in inquiry to Shar’El, though there would be time for that, it was enough to sate her for the moment that she was here, safely intact as a whole.

The unveiling the fact the very same woman had not only been released back to the USS ANUBIS, had also been promoted to Lieutenant Commander, as well as the position and commission of First Officer. Mizore had found herself not having been surprised in the least at the certain air of confidence and conviction to the new role the ILO had been given, and received, that inspired the Ensign’s respect even more as her smile grew greatly and widened.
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck Thirteen, Crew Personal Quarters: Mizore
Stardate: 30151.0940

Resigning back as she retired to her room, where the CMO now sequestered herself, where she dispelled every emotion by casting them off or aside, eliminating all sentiment. Her stature fell worn, where her shoulders sank low in arc over her form or body. “It cannot rain all the time, yet when it does rain.” Mizore’s words seeming to echo in the vast emptiness of her room. “It threatens to bring a torrential flood.” To have been found speaking to none other than her, or herself alone. A sure, clear sign of how jaded and tortured she had felt since the waking hours. wracked still by suffering even at that moment, where a past history unknown to her was a lost piece of herself.

In the quiet silence of the moment, Mizore shed her uniform like a second skin, exposing the fragile form, revealing the spindle of a woman beneath. Lighting the lamp that lie resting in its position afore the small shrine to the Prophets she had created. Where nine totems spread, the Bajoran altered the arrangement, the totems representing the orbs of time, contemplation, and wisdom situated in a way that superimposed them from the other remaining six.

Mizore had only started through the rite, stretching herself as she allowed her body to act, becoming prostrate as at first her head touched the floor, then her lips pressed against the Bajoran script ideogram for ‘Prophet’ at the center of a woven prayer mat. The word for the divine of the Bajoran faith encircled by the place most holy to her people, The Celestial Temple represented by the wormhole.

Aligning herself in seiza, the Bajoran, while whispering her call in chanted orison. “Bentel. Kova ey. Panyu a, k’, olan ey. Vely ey ol if an raka, gelan ol if rana pakik.” Closing her dual chromatic eyes, as she sought the guidance of the Prophets through meditation and prayer on matters involved with or revolving around her recent position as CMO as well as the Black and White ball.
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck Thirteen, Crew Personal Quarters: Mizore
Stardate: 30151.1050

As Mizore had moved and started to change, slipping into something less rigid in functionality, opting for a more casual sense or civilian style clothing. Mixing a Vulcan kimono embroidered with native orchids in varying shades ranging from the deepest midnight purple to bright pastel highlights trimmed with Bajoran tailoring dyed an array of colors with designs resembling that of spring scenery in the moonlight. It was comfortable, while providing some small measure of intentional provocative insight.

Once more palming the small crystal invitation in her left, again holding it between her hand toward the black void of space where it sparkled in starlight. Carefully Mizore chose every aspect of the dress, designing it from even the finest detail, down to the last modifications to be made at a time during the fitting.
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck Seven, Main Sickbay
Stardate: 30151.1107

Having stopped for the moment to Sickbay, checking the contents of the facility, in the process of placing everything in prepared, organized, functional, and working order before heading off ship, to the MASQUERADE DREAMS. Still managing to find some time to make a full detailed account or list of equipment that needed to be requisitioned or replaced while docked at NEW ALEXANDRIA, as well as create a small personal medical kit of her own in a tactical medic bag. Making absolutely sure the contents of which, could in no way be identified, or officially linked back to Starfleet.

When the new First Officer had appeared from the door and entered her office, Mizore stopped herself instantly, turning to face Shar’El, and lowered her head with a deliberate show of respect, both deserving and demanded of her new position and status.

“What brings you here, Lieutenant Commander?” The Bajoran voiced inquisitively, admittedly interested and quite curious why the Ullian would come to Sickbay so soon after being released from the medical facilities inside the star base.

“I had originally intended to talk to you about subjects of a more personal nature. Though, now that I am here, I find myself unable to speak of them, so. . .” The ILO’s voice seemed to take a very light tone as her words became quietly distant. “Instead, I would like to personally see that the senior staff of the USS ANUBIS has been provided with subdermal communicators.”

“Oh, is that all?” Mizore smiled a little, finding the request a little too easy to accommodate, like child's play. “As you wish, I will see to it.”
Setting: MASQUERADE DREAMS, Deck Eleven, Triple Cat Bar
Stardate: 30151.1349

Finally able to unwind with a little, much needed ‘R and R’ after PI ALPHA III, Having patrolled the USS ANUBIS for all members of the senior officers attending the Black and White function, successfully accomplishing the ExO’s request, as well as taking care of the last minute fitting and few final details of her dress, even acquired or obtained a few accessories for the festive celebration.

When the zealous, and lively waitress on staff came to take her order, Mizore found it almost a little too disturbing at the intensely excitable nature of the woman. Preempting the woman's verbal strike before she could voice it. The Bajoran smirked, without addressing the woman with her dual chromatic eyes. “I will take a spring wine sunset please, in real crystal, none of that fake or imitation stemware, thank you young lady.”

It slowly became something vivid and surreal, the dawning eventide of the their next mission attending the ball. Gazing out in to the black, vast emptiness of space with a vacant stare of longing from her seat on the port side of the bar. Lazily, her finger dipped in to her spring wine sunset, and would trace the rim of her drink, as the resonant pitch converged in harmony as she hummed a soft melody. In perfect silent stillness, occasionally sipping the drink, sometimes releasing a slow, sighed exhale bringing a blurred smoky haze, like a feint shadowy mist. Left to her thoughts, her mind split between sliding back to memories of the academy, and the visions of the three from her dream that seemed so familiar, yet all she had been or was left with, were names.

Gwen Spellblade

Ensign Mizore Seska
Chief Medical Officer