The girl cocks her head to the side, twisting the shot glass gently in her hand as one would spin a top. Her smile is pleasant yet devious, and her eyelashes flutter briefly before speaking.
"You should know, to come here is suicide." She reclines on the couch, her hand reaching for another shot glass and setting it in front of you with a clatter. Looking down at it, you realize that the table with its glass surface and silver legs bent in curved patterns match the shot glasses, bearing the same curved silver around its bottom. As she pours the tea into the shot glass, you realize that the majority of it is Absinthe mixed with heavy cream as its smell wafts up into your face.
"For such a logical and reasonable people as the Federation are, they seem to talk about suicide a lot. I've made a list of things I've heard from your world, echoes that reached me in my states of inebriation."
Notes on Suicide:
"That ship was constructed for a suicide mission." -Spock
"Regrettable that this society has chosen suicide." -Mirror-Spock
"All this, self-inflicted. Mass suicide!" -Kirk
"That's suicide, Data!" -Riker
"Ah! Sacrificing yourself for these humans? Do I detect a little selfless act?" -Q2
...You don't even bother reading the rest.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
The Plunge.
If you're wondering what this is, look no further. You have stumbled upon an abyss of madness in a logical world. Here, time stops, and travels backwards as you fall deeper down the proverbial rabbit hole, the black hole where your ship drops out of existence in your universe and your world has plunged into inevitable chaos.
By now you and your crew are scattered across the vast Wonderland that one can only find in the black hole closest to the planet Vulcan, a wormhole that all Vulcans avoid out of fear of insanity. You yourself have landed in a little 'tea' party, hoping to whatever entity out there that Q isn't the cause of all this once again. The truth is that even Q hasn't the slightest idea where you are right now.
The hat tilts up. You half-expected the goofy, large-nosed face of the Hatter from Lewis Carrol's books. Instead you are greeted with the strangest thing- A porcelain-skinned Vulcan girl aged twenty in appearance, her hair a mass of scraggly chartreuse ribbon curls. Her eyes are arched and her lip slightly cleft in all the likeness of a cat.
"You were expecting Don Knotts?"
By now you and your crew are scattered across the vast Wonderland that one can only find in the black hole closest to the planet Vulcan, a wormhole that all Vulcans avoid out of fear of insanity. You yourself have landed in a little 'tea' party, hoping to whatever entity out there that Q isn't the cause of all this once again. The truth is that even Q hasn't the slightest idea where you are right now.
The hat tilts up. You half-expected the goofy, large-nosed face of the Hatter from Lewis Carrol's books. Instead you are greeted with the strangest thing- A porcelain-skinned Vulcan girl aged twenty in appearance, her hair a mass of scraggly chartreuse ribbon curls. Her eyes are arched and her lip slightly cleft in all the likeness of a cat.
"You were expecting Don Knotts?"
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