(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

[candothat]

Yes, nothing, of course.

[She's probably telling the truth. Jim doesn't know how to not throw a party when the opportunity presents itself, and it's common knowledge that the captain snoops through personnel files.]

You are far too kind, Miss Ginny. [He worms his way into an upright position and flings an arm around Ginny's shoulders. Yeah, he may have had several somethings to drink. Everyone should enjoy it while they can, as Chekov isn't typically given to doing anything that impairs his mental faculties.] To say thank you, we should celebrate my birthday again, only in the traditional Russian way where I buy things for you. Is it something magic? If so, I will need to hide it before the commander can break it trying to learn how it works.

[hexuality]

Hardly.

[But she hopes he likes it. She's gotten quite good at the charm to make self-inking quills, they make such handsome gifts and she's given them out a few times—simple, practical, a little bit of magic that isn't too far off from ballpoint pens, in a way.]

If your commander breaks my gift, I'll be quite cross, so let's not have that happen. [Reaching up with a sandy hand to ruffle his hair.] I trust you to put it to good use. And don't you dare buy me anything, I've only just had a birthday and it wouldn't do to spoil me before Christmas.

[candothat]

[Pavel will be amazed by the self-inking quill. Handwriting is largely a lost art by the twenty-third century with the ease of tablets and all sorts of electronics, making anything resembling actual pens oddities. Not everyone appreciates throwbacks to humanity's earlier centuries, but Pavel is utterly fascinated by such things.]

If Spock does anything, I will refer him to you. [Pavel doesn't protest the hair-ruffling this time. If anything, he leans closer to encourage Ginny to continue, doing a fine impersonation of a sand-covered poodle.] Okay, okay--not until Christmas. But it will need to be very impressive. At home, giving good gifts frequently is the best way to assure a friend that they are important.

[hexuality]

[She laughs, leaning back on the heels of her hands in the sand.]

I don't need gifts. I've got you lot, that's enough.

[candothat]

You are easily pleased.

[His tone is serious--almost confused--but it's almost impossible to take him the least bit seriously once he flops down onto his back, limbs akimbo, unwilling to put additional effort into remaining upright. The sand feels nice.]

Ginny, I don't know what to do with you.

[hexuality]

What's that supposed to mean?

[Laughing,]

Are you calling me hopeless?

[candothat]

[He squints up at her thoughtfully before grinning.]

I believe I am, yes, but I mean it as a compliment.

[hexuality]

I'm not sure I follow your tipsy Russian logic, Pavel.

[candothat]

You would not, since you are neither tipsy nor Russian.

[hexuality]

Aren't I?

[She clears her throat and leans over and enunciates, quite clearly and with an almost impeccable accent,]

Поздравляю с днём рождения.

[She actually looked this up for this very occasion. Be proud of her, Mr Chekov. Happy birthday.]

[candothat]

Thank you. [In Russian of course. Italics are Russian now!] But that does not make you either of those things.

[And, cheekily:] If, however, you continue to surprise me, I may be forced to ask for your hand in marriage.

[hexuality]

[That was quick stream of sounds she can't understand and she starts laughing again, holding up both hands in surrender.]

Stop, stop, I only learned that much! And it took ages! [Ginny, it took a few minutes, come off it.] Slow down.

[candothat]

[He takes that as a sign that he needn't consider marriage in the immediate future.]

Even if I say it very slowly, none of it will make sense. People made this mistake with me when I first traveled outside of Russia and spoke very little Standard, and I thought they were ridiculous for thinking that saying words I don't know sloooowly would help me to learn them.

[And, seriously, because emotional whiplash is fun:] But thank you for learning that much.

[hexuality]

Well, that was incredibly rude of them.

[And she means it.]

I wish I could speak to you in Russian. I've never learned any other languages though Latin and ancient Nordic runes are a given with the classes I took... Still, I know you miss home. And being away from family on a day like this is hard.

[candothat]

[Good on Ginny, knowing when people are jerks.]

I would teach you things--small things. Nyota Uhura would, I think, be able to teach you almost any language you could want to know, if you would like to learn something exotic like Vulcan. But no, that is a kind thought, thank you.

[Hopefully Ginny doesn't mind sandy one-armed hugs, because she's going to get one right about now.] Missing home is hard. This? This is easy. In some ways, I am lucky to have spent so much time away from home prior to coming to the City. I think it makes being here less difficult.

[hexuality]

[Oh, she knows. And she knows when to give them hell for it, too. But that's neither here nor there.]

I'm so busy, I'm afraid English and "Happy Birthday" are the only things I can manage. [And she gets another hug! She smiles, leaning into it and returning it just as easily.] I thought the same, too, you know. Boarding school for six years of my life and just home for the holidays? I thought maybe it wouldn't be so different. But Christmases and summers have come and gone and I haven't slept in my bed at The Burrow in years.

[candothat]

This is enough.

[English and one phrase, that is. Pavel sort of gives up on resisting gravity, prevented from toppling over by Ginny. His good mood darkens somewhat.] There are times when it is harder, you're right. How many Christmases and summers has it been, Ginny?

[hexuality]

[The answer comes easily.]

Five Christmases, five summers.

[candothat]

I'm sorry for that. If I had a family like yours, I think even one Christmas would be too much.

[hexuality]

This December will be six, if I don't go home before then.

[She smiles, quiet and reassuring.]

The first Christmas wasn't bad, actually. I had loads of people from my world here when I arrived, even one of my brothers—Ron. The second one was a bit awful, though, because everyone had gone home by November of that year. But I've always had friends like you around, so it could always be worse. I'm lucky.

[candothat]

[He's quiet for a moment, then seems to realize that he has fallen over onto Ginny. Chekov rights himself, staying shoulder-to-shoulder with Ginny.]

I had a friend at the Academy, Lan, who said that six was a very lucky number. If you stay for six Christmases, something should be done to make the sixth special.

[hexuality]

I think you're just trying to find a reason to give me a gift because I told you not to.

[But it's a joke because she's really quite touched. And yeah, sprawling happens, but they can totally lie here on the sand.]

Seven's a lucky number in my world. I wonder what the difference is.

[candothat]

I think that I would find a reason to give you a gift regardless.

[This is one of many reasons he likes Ginny. Not everyone tolerates being flopped on.]

There is a sociocultural explanation, I am sure. In Russia, we have no lucky or unlucky numbers. It's nice, not having omens predicting the enjoyability of a specific year or event.

[Disregarding, of course, the bazillion omens of bad luck that the most Russian Russians remember without really believing. It would be more fair to say that there are no lucky numbers in Russian culture.]

[hexuality]

[Her brothers and the way she grew up made her immune to and comfortable with all forms of physical affection.]

Really? Well, for us... You've got seven years of school, you turn of age on your seventeenth birthday—and I'm the seventh child in my family, which doesn't really mean anything, but I was the first Weasley girl in generations. That's special enough on its own.

What do you have in Russia, then? Any lucky anything?

[candothat]

Entire generations? And have all of those generations been as large as yours? The Weasley family is a statistical anomaly. Maybe seven is lucky for you.

Ginny, what you must understand about Russians--and I mean the traditional Russians, the ones like my family--is that we are considered very pessimistic by those who don't appreciate the benefits of expecting disappointment from life. But when bad things happen, we think of those as omens of good luck, because once your luck is bad, how can it do anything but improve?