cosmicsommers | open rp post

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Leave me a scenario (one of your own or choose from here) and include any particular preferences as well if you wish.

Or, if you want to just leave a comment with a picture or a word as a prompt and suggest which muse of mine you want, that works too! I might just be a bit slow with those.

Make a reply asking for anyone here on the subject title.
If you choose a character on the maybe list, I will definitely be slow with them.
If you know a specific "verse" of character you want, specify. If it's a cross-canon scene and you don't specify, you might get a CR AU.

Alternately, if you'd rather place a comment on the muse's contact post. Or if you want to do something a little more privately, let me know and I'll set something up elsewhere.

Go to the RNG if you don't have a specific scenario in mind.

Have fun!

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Except it's not a simulation. Or at least, if it is one, it's not going away. She's in what appears to be a saloon from the Ancient West, though the architecture and the patrons are just alien enough to tell her that this isn't one of her own programs, or even one of Alexander's old ones.

And there's dust, dust everywhere, hanging off people's clothes and hair, trailing in behind them as they walk in the front door.

The bartender she just rebuked gives her an appraising once over, then says in his slow drawl, mouth barely moving under his handlebar mustache. "Sickbay? Well, little lady, if you want the doc," he jerks a thumb behind him, towards a poker table, "She's right over there. Whatever's wrong with you, I guar-an-tee can damn well fix it. Got herself some amazing gadgets and whatsits, like nothing I ever seen, not in these parts."

Beverly's sitting at the poker table, the only woman among a group of cowboys, who all seem rather enamored of her, not paying a bit of mind to the fact that she's taking all their chips. She's not wearing her Starfleet uniform, but rather some sort of dull olive jumpsuit, reminiscent of early astronaut gear. At the moment, she doesn't notice Deanna's presence, absorbed as she is in the game.

The first thing Deanna really thinks as she glances around -- aside from the inevitable "Why isn't this working?" -- is that it's a good thing allergies are mostly a thing of the past. This amount of dust must stir up someone's allergies. The second thing is that she really does love a good Western. Followed by the wondering if why this program is still running and whose program it is. It definitely doesn't look like one of hers or Alexander's or anything she's ever seen. And she's actually sensing things. It's difficult to read them all, but this is not what she would feel from holograms.

Or the Borg.

Her attention shifts from frustration to wariness with mild curiosity mixed in. A doctor would be a good place to start, especially if that flowing red head of hair means what she thinks it does.

"Thank you," she tells the bartender, finally managing a smile of both politeness and gratitude. He is helping her, after all. "I think I'll do that."

Turning, she heads for the poker table. Even with whatever is going on, it's probably still rude to pull a player out from the middle of a game. Instead she waits on the outskirts and when it seems like they're ready for another hand, she slides in. "Excuse me. You wouldn't happen to have room for another player, would you?" she asks, deciding to play the part of whatever program or weird reality this has become. As she pulls up a chair, she tries to catch Beverly's eye and sense anything she can from her friend while she goes.

Unlike Beverly, Deanna is uniform, though it's not one this Beverly has ever worn. Or maybe even seen.

Beverly lights up at Deanna's arrival, but apparently sees absolutely nothing strange in their situation or in Deanna being there, or indeed, even in what Deanna's wearing. This truly is Beverly, not a holographic version of her, yet something... something is still off. Beverly's emotions and mind stand out above everyone else's in the room, as if they're all fuzzy stand-ins for their real selves.

"Deal her in boys!"

They're more than obliging for the pretty doctor and her friend, scooting their chairs closer together so Deanna can squeeze in. The dealer starts to shuffle the deck, forming a bridge of cards in his hands. Beverly leans towards Deanna. "I thought you weren't coming. What changed your mind?"

Several things stand out to Deanna at the moment. The red hair tipped her off, at least subconsciously, to start. The last time Deanna had seen Beverly, the doctor's hair was blonde. She changed it recently, so the bright red is a striking contrast to what Deanna knows as reality. It's also a contrast to the fact that Beverly is the only one Deanna can get a good read on. Almost as though she's the only real one. Or everyone else here is some species Deanna can't read as well as humans.

The fact that Beverly is acting as though this is perfectly normal has Deanna confused and wary in equal measure. On the outside, she has her calm mask on. Somehow that still works, despite the last few days. On the inside, she is much more wary, more prone to trying to unravel whatever this is. Because it is something.

Something is going on here and Deanna is determined to figure it out. That requires playing her part, so play her part she will.

"I was looking for you, actually," she says as she watches the dealer shuffle. "I had wanted to make certain that you were doing all right."

Let Beverly make of that what she will. Deanna will take from her answer anything she can get.

Beverly's face falls a little. "You mean because of Hawke and Ladon?" Obviously, Deanna is supposed to know who Beverly is talking about. Whoever they are, they clearly mean a lot to Beverly and there's a sense of loss hanging about her, but it's not the same sort of feeling one would get from a death. "I'm fine. I mean... I suppose I'm not fine right now, but I will be."

Hawke and Ladon. Clearly two people she should know. Clearly two people who are important to Beverly. Deanna files their names away, and the feelings she's getting from Beverly, as the dealer finally starts to deal their cards.

"What happened to them?" she asks calmly, as though they are simply in the middle of a session and Deanna is actually just trying to get Beverly to talk about her experiences and feelings, rather than prying for information.

Beverly glances at her hand, then sets the cards back on the table, facedown. Caught off guard as she is by Deanna's probing about Hawke and Ladon, her poker guards aren't up: it's a pretty bad hand. "Well that's just it, isn't it? We don't really know. Presumably they went home... After all, you remember a later version of me, don't you? But I have my doubts."

Deanna isn't quite ready to give up her hand just yet. "Folding already?" she questions as she ups the ante instead. Her hand isn't great, but she isn't done just yet. She does glance at Beverly, her curiosity melding into confusion and concern.

"Doubts?"

Not yet confirming or denying anything Beverly has said about her. If asked directly and pointedly, she will come forward. Right now none of this makes sense and she wants to try to sort through it before any potential confrontations happen.

Oh, Deanna, it's about to get a lot more confusing. "I mean... Occam's razor says we go home after Atroma is through with us, but then why tell us the winner gets to go home? Not as if they're the most trustworthy source, but if that part is true, then what happens to the rest of us?"

Okay, yeah, that's more than Deanna can sort out right now. She folds, too, gently and quietly, before turning to face Beverly with a serious look. Her friend feels entirely serious and it's that feeling that has Deanna most concerned. What is this place and what is going on?

"Beverly... do you think we could take a walk? I need a little fresh air." She doesn't exactly feel comfortable talking in close quarters like this, especially if she's going to admit that she has no idea what Beverly is referencing right now.

Beverly nods. "That's probably a good idea." She flashes a smile at her poker partners, apologizing for ducking out. Someone mumbles something about finally gettin' to keep all his money and is elbowed in the ribs by the dealer, who then nods graciously at the two women. Beverly gathers up her winnings and they head out the door.

The streets are even dustier than the saloon, and rather desolate, this time of day when it's so hot out. A couple of people can be seen wearing jumpsuits like Beverly's, but most are wearing traditional Ancient West clothing. "Maybe we could head for the hotel?"

Deanna makes note of everyone's reactions, her eyes taking in the faces and the voices. If she ever runs into them again, she wants to make sure she remembers them. Once outside, she notices those she can feel and those she can't, who makes an impression on her empathic abilities and who feels like those people inside the saloon. Things sure are different in this program or whatever it is.

"That might be best," she agrees with a nod, glancing at her friend in concern, as though Beverly is the one who needs the extra care. Pausing for a few seconds, she adds on, "Did I miss the dress code for this expedition?"

May as well try to find out more while they're walking.

Beverly laughs and glances down at her uniform. “Oh, these? No, no. They don’t seem to care much what we wear. This is simply the most practical thing, for me.” She looks over at Deanna more seriously now. “And for a long time my Starfleet uniform was the only thing I had from home, so I didn’t much like the idea of something happening to it.”

She walks on in silence for a moment, squinting against the glare of the sun. Now, of course, she has much more than a uniform: she has one of her best friends, and as selfish as it might be, Beverly’s glad Deanna is here. Her smile returns.

“Though I must say, it’s a shame you don’t have your Durango outfit. She’d fit right in here.”

Several things stick out in those statements. The idea of practical clothing and Beverly's current attire being just that. Beverly's Starfleet uniform having come with her the way Deanna's did. And...

"'For a long time?'" Deanna echoes slowly. "Does that mean it isn't any longer?" And if not, what else does Beverly have now? So many questions pop up in Deanna's head, but she keeps them to herself for now. A few at a time to start.

She does manage a smile at the mention of Durango. She really had enjoyed that program with Worf and Alexander, despite the difficulties they had regarding the holodeck, and the entire ship, that day. "If you know of somewhere I might be able to find a replacement outfit, I think I could bring her back out." Really, that would be more fun than worrying about things. All in good time, though.

For an answer, Beverly reaches into one of her pockets (Pockets! What a novel idea! Starfleet should really look into this) and takes out a tricorder. No doubt it looks a little outdated to Deanna by now, further emphasizing their temporal differences. She presses a few buttons and there’s Deanna’s voice, reading a letter she had sent to Beverly, back when Beverly was at Starfleet Medical and Deanna was still on the Enterprise. It’s a more or less benign letter, mostly relaying with amusement the various ways in which Pulaski was torturing Jean-Luc. Nevertheless, Beverly treasures it, and all the other letters, as a lifeline to home. Looping her arm around Deanna’s, she lets the letter play as they walk.

“I’m sure we could find you a nice hat and boots around here somewhere.”

A little outdated, yes, but that is hardly the most interesting fact about it. The fact that it plays one of Deanna's letters to Beverly is more interesting at the moment. The realization of which letter it is is the most interesting thing about all of this. Deanna concentrates on it as it plays, listening to Beverly as best she can. What she wants to know is if this recording is what it should be. Is it as accurate as it should be? Is it fake? How concerned should she be one way or the other?

Her memory says that it is accurate and that is concerning in and of itself.

"Perhaps that could be our first stop after we talk?" she suggests, thinking that it might do them some good. "But only if you agree to join in. It wouldn't be as fun if just one of us got into the spirit of things."

"What?!" She exclaims in mock-indignation, her hand to her heart. "And sully my perfectly reputation here in the fleet as a serious and no-nonsense doctor?!"

That is...

Not your reputation at all Beverly. Especially not after the beach planet.

Deanna's lips twist in amusement despite the circumstances. She can tell that there's much more to this than Beverly is saying.

"I am certain that the reputation you have is an accurate one." Pause. "And that it isn't that one."

That, however, can wait. Their destination seems close, at least from what she can gather. The faster they make it inside, the better. Deanna has questions. Lots of them.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're implying."

Deanna's right: they have reached their destination. Admittedly "hotel" is a rather generous name for this place. It's more like an old-fashioned boarding house, but at least everything is clean and Beverly had enough credits to get herself a private room. Only a few people are in the common room reading or playing cheap holographic parlor games with one another.

Beverly leads Deanna to her room at the top of the stairs and shuts the door behind them. She gestures towards the overstuffed paisley chair in the corner.

"Sit, sit. It's not much but it's a break from the ships at least."

As they move into the hotel, Deanna glances around, letting her eyes take in what the place is, what it looks like, and what she can sense from any inhabitants. The place looks nice, in its rustic way, not unlike something out of a holodeck program, and indeed some of the people in the common area appear to be playing some sort of holographic game. Interesting. They all seem content, focused on their games, and Deanna senses no fear or concern from any of them.

The concern is mostly her own. For better or for worse.

Following Beverly up the stairs and into the room, Deanna lifts a hand to quickly and rhythmically tap two fingers at a specific point just behind her carotid artery. Plexing, a Betazoid relaxation technique, has served her well over the years of her life. Taking a deep breath, she settles gracefully into the offered chair, turning her eyes back upon her friend and finally letting a little of her worry and concern seep through.

"Beverly... where are we?"

Best start small. Deanna has a mental list of questions. She figures she can work her way up the list, beginning with this very important question. Everything else can wait.

"I don't know that there's an official name for this moon. Not that I've heard at least. The natives aren't exactly the most talkative bunch." Frowning, she sits on the edge of the bed. She's more than familiar with plexing and the fact that Deanna is doing it now is of some concern. Perhaps Atroma has tampered with Deanna's Augment? It wouldn't be the first time.

"But that's not what you meant, is it?"

It is an answer, even while it is not. Deanna can sense Beverly's sincerity, so that isn't a concern. Not that it would be normally. Beverly is rarely anything other than sincere.

"The last thing I remember is walking through the doors to sickbay on the Enterprise," Deanna begins, walking herself through what she can recall. "This isn't sickbay and I don't believe it is the Enterprise, either. The only thing I can think of is that Q brought me here or that I somehow was transported to the holodeck. But of course I would need to ask what you are doing here as well. You seem to have a better understanding of this place and what is going on. On top of that, some of the people here had faint auras. My ability to read them was diminished."

In short, nothing is adding up for her. If Beverly has any answers, Deanna could really use them.

Beverly frowns. That’s not good at all that Deanna doesn’t remember the past couple of weeks. What’s actually more concerning, though, is that Deanna can’t read anyone very well. Perhaps her augment is malfunctioning? While tiresome, that would be the most encouraging explanation, since the so-called glitches only ever last a few days, a few weeks, at most. If it’s not that, then they have a much more serious problem on their hands. So, the obvious first step is the tricorder, which she brings out again to begin scanning Deanna.

“We weren't brought here by Q, but it was a being of a similar nature. Or at least, so I believe.”

The whole thing is concerning to Deanna, who doesn't feel any different than she had previously. At least, not physically. Her abilities are still working as they should. She can read Beverly perfectly. What isn't working is everything else. Memory, time. If she has been here, she doesn't remember it. And she can tell that Beverly isn't lying. While comforting, that also brings up other questions.

"So you believe?" Deanna echoes, gently prodding for more information. "You mean you don't know? What other being would have this sort of power? And what is its purpose?"

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