the village Deanna's strange accent and eyes tend to give her away as an outsider - an "exotic" some would say, a term she's none too happy with - but it's clear from her dirty Starfleet uniform and bow slung awkardly across her back that she's no ally of the Cetagandans, so the villagers welcome her, plucking at her thin clothing with disapproval before reappearing with coats and mittens that they insist upon her taking. Not that it takes too much convincing... Betazoids are not made for this kind of weather. Especially not when mischevious little children are running around hitting them with snowballs.
Eyes dancing with amusement, she whips around in mock-confusion to search for the culprits. A nearby snowdrift giggles. Deanna taps her chin with one forefinger. "Now, where in the world could that snowball have come from?"
the barrayaran camp Deanna misses the noise, the constant hum of other minds that has been with her her entire life - well, almost her entire life anyway. The previous loss of her senses has provided a little preparation for this - though emphasis on "a little." This time there was no Will, no Beverly, no Captain to patiently help her through this, nothing of the familiar comforts of home, of the Enterprise. Just cold and snow and tents hundled in the night.
However, at least tonight there is food and drink and good cheer as the guerillas celebrate their victory around the campfire. Even for someone like Deanna, unsure of how to proceed in the midst of a conflict she never asked to be a part of, it's an inviting atmosphere and it fills the silence in her mind. So when someone hands her a cup of the maple mead, she thinks, What the hell? and tosses it back.
(A move she's sure to regret).
recon (either side) In truth, Deanna agreed to this recon mission more as an excuse to be alone with a fellow outsider than out of any particular loyalty to her "side." Hopefully, she thought, she would have an opportunity to pick their brains, maybe learn more about this strange situation they both find themselves in.
Except now, all she can think about is how very familiar that tree looks, the one with the crooked branch, and how bitter the wind is and how tired she is of trudging through the snow. She comes to a stop, a worried look on her face. "Are you sure you know where we're going?"
Deanna Troi | Star Trek: The Next Generation | OTA
Deanna's strange accent and eyes tend to give her away as an outsider - an "exotic" some would say, a term she's none too happy with - but it's clear from her dirty Starfleet uniform and bow slung awkardly across her back that she's no ally of the Cetagandans, so the villagers welcome her, plucking at her thin clothing with disapproval before reappearing with coats and mittens that they insist upon her taking. Not that it takes too much convincing... Betazoids are not made for this kind of weather. Especially not when mischevious little children are running around hitting them with snowballs.
Eyes dancing with amusement, she whips around in mock-confusion to search for the culprits. A nearby snowdrift giggles. Deanna taps her chin with one forefinger. "Now, where in the world could that snowball have come from?"
the barrayaran camp
Deanna misses the noise, the constant hum of other minds that has been with her her entire life - well, almost her entire life anyway. The previous loss of her senses has provided a little preparation for this - though emphasis on "a little." This time there was no Will, no Beverly, no Captain to patiently help her through this, nothing of the familiar comforts of home, of the Enterprise. Just cold and snow and tents hundled in the night.
However, at least tonight there is food and drink and good cheer as the guerillas celebrate their victory around the campfire. Even for someone like Deanna, unsure of how to proceed in the midst of a conflict she never asked to be a part of, it's an inviting atmosphere and it fills the silence in her mind. So when someone hands her a cup of the maple mead, she thinks, What the hell? and tosses it back.
(A move she's sure to regret).
recon (either side)
In truth, Deanna agreed to this recon mission more as an excuse to be alone with a fellow outsider than out of any particular loyalty to her "side." Hopefully, she thought, she would have an opportunity to pick their brains, maybe learn more about this strange situation they both find themselves in.
Except now, all she can think about is how very familiar that tree looks, the one with the crooked branch, and how bitter the wind is and how tired she is of trudging through the snow. She comes to a stop, a worried look on her face. "Are you sure you know where we're going?"