Joint Duty Log - Capt Ivanova & LtCmdr Waterhouse - "The Worms Play Pinochle On Your Snout"

Posted on Sat Nov 22nd, 2014 @ 4:36am by Commander Amelia Waterhouse & Admiral Rochelle Ivanova

1,634 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: All Hallows’

Amelia had arrived an hour early, with Cecil in tow, to make sure everything was ready for everyone's arrival at 1700. Tonight was intended to be a big shindig, and it was to be the first official appearance of Rochelle since the battle that had left them in Qu'Vat again. The intent was to celebrate the success of the fleet on mending ties with the Federation council, freeing it from the toxic grip of Fed First, and to reassure the crew that despite rumors about the Captain being carried unconscious into sickbay during the battle, that she was just fine. Amelia knew that even though it was a masquerade, there would be no doubt which figure on the floor was their captain. Noah had offered his services to her to craft her costume, and Amelia knew her brother well — there was no doubt that the costume would be awe inspiring, larger than life, and would likely overwhelm a normal person, something which Rochelle absolutely was not. She would shine in Noah's work.

Cecil had scurried off almost as soon as they'd entered the holodeck, making the final sweep of checks without giving the XO a chance to stay on his heels, and Amelia shook her head softly. He'd been invaluable on coordinating things, pointing out details and logistics that she'd never have thought about, making suggestions on rearrangements of the refreshment tables, the placement of various AI for support of the event... she'd been utterly amazed by how much he knew about the type of event they were putting on. He'd even suggested that since it was a masque, not to announce the name of the person behind the mask, just what their costume was intended to be in order to keep the mystery alive. There was no doubt that most people would probably be pretty obvious who they were, even with a mask, but Amelia had caught glimpses of some costume prep that told her there would be some who would be a true mystery until midnight when the masks came off. It would take all the fun out of it to out them before the big reveal.

Cecil's costume had surprised and amused Amelia. He'd shown up in a nice suit of a late Victorian era cut, with a tall top hat settled on his head, and she'd simply assumed he'd put on a decorative mask and be done with it. However, when he'd unfolded the black bundle he'd carried with him to reveal it was a cape, and nestled inside its folds had been an ivory colored mask with a sizable nose and a large handlebar mustache, she'd giggled and praised his villain costume. He'd quickly insisted he was a particular one named Snidely Whiplash, and she'd promised to look up the source of his costume later.

Her costume was fairly simple by her or Noah's normal standards — she had allowed her little brother to help some, though he'd been clearly irked when she'd insisted on doing most of it herself from the replicator. A flowing gauzy dress with a single shoulder, a leather underbust corset cinching it in at the waist with little reptilian style wings on the back where it laced, and buckles up front, gladiator style sandals with straps that came three-quarters of the way up her calves in a grid pattern, and finished off with a sculpted leather mask with tentacles. The wings and the mask had been crafted by Noah, and the whole outfit was green, ranging in shade from a bright spring to a deep forest. Her hair was mostly a cascade of waves with the strategic use of rope braids and ribbon to maintain the feel of chaos and freedom while keeping her hair out of the tentacles of the mask and up far enough to keep the little wings visible.

At 1645, Amelia and Cecil stood waiting for Rochelle's arrival in the entryway. Behind them were tall double wide doors opening into the ball room, on either side were two sweeping staircases which hugged the curved walls leading to the second level, where there was a door opening into the second level gallery above the ballroom. Antique weaponry covered the walls, all accurate to the piece they represented and perfectly usable — though Amelia had no expectation of it coming to that, the idea of unusable weaponry irked her, even if it was only for show on the holodeck.

The sound of Rochelle's peep-toed heels echoed as they met the marble floor for the first time. The sound was one of hurried confidence, the bold strides announcing that the little Pheonix was moving with purpose that night. Holographic wings and the sparkle of glitter trailed behind her as if she were a comet, and while Rochelle hated the idea of attention, she was stuck with it. Even the billowing nature of her gown, the deep sweetheart cut that was supported both by boning in the bodice itself and a corset beneath, begged for eyes to be cast her way. Each and every step set curls of up-swept copper to bounce and shimmer under the hushed candle light, making them glisten and burn as she stepped further and further away from being a simple mortal officer. Noah had done exceptionally well in his desire to transform the Captain into a figment of mythology fit for a Queen. She'd thanked him verbally, later she'd see to it that she admonished him with something better. While the youngest Waterhouse didn't value money, he valued safety and he valued art, the Pelican would receive a little something extra to help him in his travels. "Sorry I'm late." She chuckled lightly, coming to rest in front of her XO and Yeoman, "Noah wouldn't let me go until he was absolutely certain I was 'perfect'."

"That's the noodle head when it comes to his art," Amelia answered with a chuckle. "I've seen him fuss over paintings that looked perfect to me for a week before he declared them done. Be glad he had a deadline to work with, otherwise you'd probably be going back for another fitting." She grinned at Rochelle, finally taking in the whole of the costume. She knew that Noah was over the top when he wasn't given any boundaries, but she was still amazed. If he'd put that costume on almost anyone else, the personality of it would have smothered them, but Rochelle carried it with a grace and a poise that would mesmerize anyone who didn't already know her.

"You look amazing, ma'am," Cecil murmured from under his mask.

"He threatened to have me sit there for another hour, something about glitter and feathers..." Rochelle shrugged and the wings rose and fell with the motion of her shoulders in a manner that would have made Disney proud. The holographic projections were surprisingly empathetic, reading her body language in ways that Noah had simply said 'don't worry about', and worry she didn't. For the first time in a long time she felt more than just sophisticated and cold. "Thank you, Cecil." She grinned brightly.

"You have enough glitter on you to mark the whole Romulan fleet," Amelia quipped. "It actually kind of gives a trailing fire effect in this light. I didn't show him the holodeck program, and I doubt it was by accident... He's sneaky when he wants to find something out though." Amelia just shook her head. "Let's just give you the final tour before everyone arrives." She gestured for Rochelle to follow, and headed through the large double doors into the ball room. Cecil fell behind and just to one side of the captain.

Standing at attention to one side of the doorway was a man in an ivory leather owl mask, matching ivory tailcoat, and slate grey pants. He nodded politely as Amelia stopped next to him. "He'll announce everyone by costume as they arrive. If we'd gone fully authentic, you and I would have been standing here all night greeting each and everyone of the guests," Amelia explained with an eye roll. "Cecil suggested it would be better for everyone if no one tried to cage the phoenix or elder god for the night." At this mention Cecil nodded with a slight smirk.

"The main floor's band, I went with a classic group costume," Amelia explained, walking ahead quickly without giving Rochelle time to respond. People would be arriving soon, after all. Three of the members of the quartet stood out with masks that looked like pigs -- one bright pink, another black with white spots, and the last tan. The cellist wore a wolf mask, and a suit of dark brown. "We have a Romani band in the side ballroom, dressed as fae." Amelia continued, and lead the way towards the food and drink which sat to either side of the door into the smaller ballroom. Behind the two tables stood six men dressed in tailcoats of bright colors, and masks with feathers and beaks. Before anything else could say, the owl at the maindoors cleared his throat.

"Please bid welcome to a blackbird," he said loud and clear, and next to him stood a tiny little figure draped in a sparkly black dress with a sweeping black feather shawl. The black feather mask failed to hide the well known head and ears of the petite Ferengi engineer as she skittered her way into the ballroom, her high heeled granny boots echoing across the chamber. Behind her, the doorway into the ballroom held more members of the crew.

"Show time," Amelia whispered, and stepped towards the center of the room with a smile, knowing Rochelle would be right there.

=/\= End Log =/\=

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

Lt Commander Amelia Waterhouse
Executive Officer
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

 

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