" The Grand Game "
[Previous Post "A Garden of Crystals - A Time To Dance" by Renda]
“I know it’s crooked, but it’s the only game in town.”
- William ‘Canada Bill’ Jones

Setting: MASQUERADE DREAMS, Twenty, Guest’s Suite
Stardate: 30151.2041

She looked at the time displayed on her own custom PADD, in the same peculiar shade of blue Bajoran ideograms, as it read 2O21 hours, which brought a loud sigh surfacing to her lips as it escaped her. The vast sense of anxiety and infinite dread that filled her had almost become something of an affliction or curse, though, she could not decide which was more accurate.

:: If I can only survive to make it through this night. ::

The Bajoran thought, as she slipped her hands over the flawless ensemble, her hands starting to twitch nervously upon reaching to find the hem of the train. Nigh wild with hysteria, as she glanced herself over once or twice in the wall mirror, taking on a more lucid state. There, staring back at her with dual chromatic eyes, was some kind of twin or doppelgänger in strangely foreign attire, unfamiliar to anything she had ever having seen.

Wresting her attentions away for the moment from the phantom reflection, the CMO continued to prepare for the dance. Placing a multifaceted emerald and jet colored crystal camellia flower pin, worn left atop her head, careful not to mess or ruin her fashionably draped front and feathered back peacock hairstyle, prior to adding the final touch. A timeless latinum plated antique memento on her right ear, an heirloom, given by her mother, who received it from her mother before her, and has since been passed through generations of her family for almost a millennia.
Setting: MASQUERADE DREAMS, Deck Eleven, Crystal Room
Stardate: 30151.2059

With one last, deep exhale preceding a breath held in terrible hesitation, the Bajoran stepped slowly in to the main hall. She moved, pacing ever to the fore, the fanfare sounded as they had announced her presence.

“Introducing, Lady Heron Simza, Ranjen punjak a pagh’tem’far.”

As Mizore continued to make her way through, using an alias to completely avoid unwanted or unnecessary suspicion, or dissociate any ties to Starfleet or the Federation that her actual name might otherwise reference to the contrary or enlighten the truth of her identity. Grateful to the fact that she was among the very few guests attending the event to be counted among the first to arrive. Secretly hoping her choices and the decisions on what she was wearing was sufficient toward maintaining a level of anonymity, keep both low profile and her own presence out of sight and off the radar.

Still quite conscious of the fact she was wearing the simple a line, silhouette style dress white as the new snow, with an off the shoulder Queen Anne neckline, made entirely of Andorian silk, a lace up ribbon corset back, and a smooth layered hourglass ruffle design skirt, accented with a long empire chapel train.
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck Eleven, Crystal Room, Second Level Terrace
Stardate: 30151.2127

Situating herself to a solitary corner, which had given her the best possible location from which to utilize her specific strengths. Mizore had given a significant count in hours of thought, realizing that she did not possess the relatively similar skills to the others of the team. She knew she was not inspirationally commanding like Morningstar, intriguingly desirable like Stark, scientifically calculating like Maya, socially charismatic like Paquette, physically intimidating like Ya’Han, exotically mysterious as Dalziel, mentally intuitive like Shar’El, or culturally sophisticated like T’leia. It was this that she did, did well, and did best. Examine, observe, and study.

“Moves and countermoves.” her voice hushed, as a short lived playful smile appeared not a moment before Maya had wandered into her field of vision, catching her sight. The Bajoran, raised the crystal flute stemware to her lips, sipping the sparkling cider champagne to whet her dry, parched throat. Looking squarely at the CSO, a dark glint of hazel eyes that leered over the PADD in her hand, while  locking gaze with the Shillian’s own for a fleeting instant, as a small show, acknowledging that Maya’s presence had not gone unnoticed.

“I am indeed, rather fine Lieutenant. There is no need for concern. I do, however, appreciate you taking the time and showing an interest as to inquire on my status, condition, or lack thereof.” The CMO whispered holding the PADD to obscurely conceal her mouth. Intentionally feinting her focus on the various conjured and fabricated religious contents, information, records, data, and reports on the device.

To Mizore, it had only just started. The board had been set, the cards dealt, the rules established, the players arrived, and now...

“Let the Grand Game begin.” A quieted sound of an amused laugh could be found originating from her to those who concentrated on, or intently listened for it.

Gwen Spellblade

Ensign Mizore Seska
Assistant Chief Medical Officer