(open)

[hischair]

When: 19th
Rating: TBC
Characters: You!
Summary: A shindig at the beach for the best navigator in Starfleet.
Log: 

[ OOC: Feel free to assume your character has received an invite to the party via their inbox or word of mouth for Chekov's birthday! Everyone is welcome except you, Khan and presents are mandatory for the Enterprise's young navigator. Please tag under either section to keep the party somewhat ordered, and have fun! ]

Comments

[excelsiors]

Well, good. We don't want to lose points on style.

[hischair]

Even the sneakiest of Vulcans?

[ Implying youuu. ]

[logistical]

[Spock looks at him, suddenly, unfathomably human.]

Vulcan children can be cruel.

[hischair]

[ ... Spock, why. Those Goddamn eyes. ]

I wouldn't have let them.

[ Doesn't even need to think about saying it, and in reference to his favorite. ]

[logistical]

They thought less of me due to my mother. That, I did not mention to her, or to my father, until they provoked an emotional response.

[Idly, he looks for another starfish, and picks it out of the water carefully.]

[hischair]

[ Jim leans over to hold out his hands for the second starfish, so they can share them back and forth. ]

They were jerks. I wish I'd grown up on Vulcan with you, it would've been fun.

[medicos]

[ only jim, honestly. ]

Learn to share. Other people need to eat, too.

[ falls into step beside jim easily. ]

If we're gonna go to Italy, will you take me gondola riding, too?

[hexuality]

You're a swimmer, then, as well as a flier?

[hischair]

I'll push you overboard.

[ Heheheh. ]

[medicos]

Then, I'll drag you down with me, honey.

[ win-win scenario for everyone. ]

[hischair]

Ah, l'amour.

[ Taking him with an arm draped around his neck, Jim steers them to the bonfire and back to their friends. ]

[candothat]

[Psycho? Seriously, Korra?

While he doesn't know about the shooting incident, Chekov can only assume that Korra has a reason for insulting one of his favorite people in the City. This, combined with a desire to keep everyone present relatively calm and happy (or at least away from the throats of other guests), keeps his irritation in check. Mostly. To Korra, exasperated:]

I will guess that you have met my friend, Marie Delacroix.

[And to Marie, apologetically:] No, please, it isn't necessary for you to leave.

[He glances over at Korra and Hei, tacking on an unspoken and if you don't like it, fight me.]

ANY OF THE TIMES // ota

[candothat]

[The most staunchly traditional Russians--even the ones in the twenty-second century--celebrate their birthdays by throwing a ridiculously elaborate and costly party for however many close family members and friends they have the resources to feed. That's one tradition that Chekov isn't about to argue in favor of. This thing where other people put together a party and presents still happen? It's awesome. Not that he'll admit that, of course.

Chekov spends the day bouncing between friends, eating (and drinking) as much as is humanly possible without sustaining bodily harm, and trying not to act like this is basically the best party he's ever been to, which it is. (He might not publicize his own birthday, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't not-so-secretly want to be lavished with gifts and attention.) Other party goers can find him just about everywhere: building sandcastles (with less finesse than Spock), starting splash wars, tucking away barbeque like it's going out style, explaining his favorite theories about the City's physical structure with the aid of drawings in the sand, pretending not to watch his superiors flirt with each other like shameless teenagers. There's every chance that the navigator will be even louder and more candid than usual; although he typically doesn't drink enough to impair his judgment, this seems like a fine day to be judgment-impaired.

Later in the night when the bonfire's roaring and the stars are scattered across the sky, the particularly bold might catch Chekov brooding into a plastic cup full of vodka and contemplating the future, the inevitable leaving the City and all memories related to it behind, and the likelihood that he won't be around to celebrate another birthday after this one.

Brooding after drinking too much is a tradition, after all, and one can only neglect so many traditions in one day.]

[lefthandedgenius]

I see that you're being particularly Russian at the moment.

[It's Lydia who sits down next to him on the log, a solo cup in her hand that is also filled with alcohol, though not vodka. Probably some kind of rum.]

[logistical]

[Spock hands it over, and catches the third.]

You would have had difficulty with the cuisine.

[He appreciates the support, if belated.]

[logistical]

[It's the outliers that's throwing Spock off. Every time he attempts to slot Li into a category, the man slips out. It's like holding an eel, and that's what's making Spock suspicious, too. Even McCoy, who's considered highly illogical, has distinct patterns of behaviour that could be understood eventually.]

[Spock rarely has reason to be suspicious, but then again, he's never quite met someone with a secret identity, so to speak. That crunching is really loud and Spock shows none of it - having been amongst humans long enough.]

I am a scientist. I have experience in engineering and am applying it.

:3 Nighttime!

[mortemscintilla]

[ Heaven's War drained a lot out of Hei -- birthdays, anniversaries, festive kitsch. Sentiment. Certainly, he lives his life pared to the basics, where he can help it. Things are things; generalities are generalities. Emotion only takes you so far. In the end, the guiding principle of human relations is not love, but What have you done for me lately? Still, Hei makes exceptions, even if it's for transactive benefits. Pavel has been useful to him. Hei owes him, even as he dislikes the way it throws off the balance of their two-variable equation. At the same time, Pavel is also one of the few people in the City who wouldn't kill him with his back turned. Not without reason. ]

[ Just because Hei doesn't gush about it, doesn't mean it's not recognized. ]

[ It's late at night, the bonfire crackling hot and orange, filling the air with a smoky broil. Hei finds Chekov gazing at some private Russian hell in his vodka cup, while people in the background chatter and laugh over things Hei doesn't really give a fuck about. He takes his cue to drop something in Pavel's lap; a blue box, unwrapped. Inside is a dreamcatcher that gives off a peculiar eerie glow. No card, no receipt. ]

It's supposed to burn red if your dreams are real-life warnings.

[ Spoken with a shrug, because Hei doesn't believe it. (He doesn't tell Pavel that his teammates in South America used to exchange dreamcatchers as tokens. He still has the feathery tassled one Amber gave him.) ]

[logistical]

[Spock really has to keep track of things more. He wandered near the bonfire hunting for Jim for some nefarious plot or the other, and instead winds up handing people extra drinks because he happens to be going in that direction. He's not quite looking closely as he approaches Allison and distractedly holds out a cup.]

Do you require a refill?

[outofthefreezer]

[There's a grin on his lips when they break aprt, gently resting his forehead against hers.]

That was nice... [Because yes, he is the kind of person to say stupid shit after a kiss.]

[phonetical]

[Far be it from Uhura deny how serious Spock is about those sandcastles. But sandcastles and Vulcans are a combination unheard of and his intense scrutiny on how many castles need to be stood up to prove his point, well, Nyota can't stop snickering as she stands nearby.

Granted, she understands the need to defend the Enterprise's honor against the Voyager, so she doesn't laugh too much. But she does laugh.]

Need any help?

[logistical]

[He doesn't quite care that she might be laughing at him - only that she's laughing and that's always a good thing.]

Assistance would be appreciated, Nyota.

[He looks at the bucket he's holding, and passes it to her so she can make a tower at one corner of his current construction site.]

[phonetical]

[She barely has her last bite swallowed down before noticing the Captain strolling up to her. Setting the plate down, she prepares to stand up and greet him but he beats her to the punch with his arms around her shoulders and legs. Suddenly, Uhura notices that the sea is getting a little too close for her liking and she's nowhere near being on the sandy ground anymore.]

What the hell--put me down!

[phonetical]

I know a particular Vulcan that would actually play chess at the beach, but it isn't for him.

[She bites off a mouthful of meat off the skewer and chews thoughtfully before continuing to speak.]

What'd you get him?

[phonetical]

[The little girl's appearance right beside her is unexpected and Uhura jumps slightly, dropping her kabob onto her plate. Yes, there is something unsettling about this kid, something she can't quite put her finger on, but all in all, she looks normal to Uhura.

Still, there's that inkling that something weird is here. She's not going to ignore that.]

Hello. Having fun?

[phonetical]

[Uhura's here, not to make sure he doesn't miss the drinks, but to make sure he doesn't end up tomato red on his back. Sunburns hurt, even on skin used to the sun. She's slather on an obscene amount of sunscreen on her own skin just to be careful.

With a soft grunt, she sits down next to him and begins poking him in the side with a long slim finger.]

Hey, you're going to be a lobster soon if you don't wake up.