working on it
anyway now that the cold meds are kicking in and Bones has reluctantly admitted he doesn't mind his mouse which is AS BIG AS HIS HEAD jesus christ, a bit of graduate vulcan again!
now I'm going to do more drabble bits, debate the relative sanity of Kelvin cameos and redo all my damn programs for this computer.
Apparently it's more-or-less expected that Jim will cherrypick a few things from Sakel's collection before sending it on, although not the really valuable ones.
"Minor objects," clarifies Old Spock, his trusted - well, mostly trusted - source on not pissing Vulcans off. (Jim doesn't entirely trust him because he knows Spocks.) "As a remembrance of your mentor."
Jim's eyebrows shoot up.
"Yes, part of the game is to find something nobody else realizes is valuable," says Old Spock.
"That won't be a problem," says Jim, looking down at his PADD. "They're all valuable now." He pulls a face. "On the other hand, at least I won't want the 'tapestry depicting the triumph of logic and rationalism over the forces of chaos and emotionalism'."
"If it is the same one I remember, it is not something a human would find attractive," allows Old Spock. "Truly, James, find something to remind you of your mentor."
"Yeah, okay," says Jim, wondering if he's going to find a picture of Sakel's pet sehlat or whatever to add to his collection of cat pictures.
The tapestry, as it happens, isn't that bad - it's sort of swirly and jagged at the bottom, and swirly and smooth at the top. What makes it strange to human eyes is that the calm is represented in bright red and the chaos in blues and greens.
Also, Vulcan have this thing about abstract art, which even Jim's Spock cannot deny is really weird.
"Abstract art is all about emotions," argues Jim, holding up a twisty piece of metal undoubtedly destined to be labeled 'Aspiration' in a museum.
Spock's eyebrow twitches in the way that means he both agrees with Jim and wants to commit suicide for doing so.
"I mean, it's not like a picture of a cat by a fire or whatever," continues Jim relentlessly, "but don't you think abstract art is a way of expressing emotion without the constricting bounds of representalism?"
Spock puts the robe he's folding into a plastic cube and stares at him. "I was given to understand you slept through your required fine art courses, Captain."
"And I got an A," says Jim, smugly.
Spock gives him Headache Face 45, Oh My God I Willingly Went To Space With You, What The Fuck Was I Thinking? with a dash of 17, It Really Burns My Ass When You Pretend to Be Dumb, Dickwad. Jim loves all of Spock's headache faces. They make him happy when skies are gray. He spends hours thinking of ways to make Spock develop new ones - which is a dead secret even from Bones, because if Spock ever gets confirmation of that little habit, Jim is going to die.
"Jim," says Bones, poking his head in from the storage area, "Why is there three huge vacuum bags of unspun wool here?"
"Is there a label on it?" says Jim. Bones knows some Vulcan, but only in a really specialized way - he can read enough to know when something is poisonous, and he is the only human Jim knows who knows, and can spell and pronounce correctly, the Vulcan word for measles. Jim mangles the vowels a little on it himself. Bones learned it during an incident on New Vulcan where a lot of Vulcan kids caught it and had to be nursed through it. That was when they had all learned that, yes, adult Vulcans freak out. Logically, maybe, but there was hysteria and panic spread lavishly around the entire colony, not that anybody really blamed them.
"Yeah," says Bones. "But all I can make out is Down Left Tree Down Left Number Number."
Jim gets up and looks. "Southwest Alder and 11," he translates. "Traditional Handarts Society. Spinning demonstration."
"Does that mean these things are spinning …. things?" says Bones, dubiously holding out a box.
"No, that's Vulcan knitting needles," says Jim absently, typing the address into his padd. It's in walking distance, it seems, although maybe not if they're hauling vacuum bags full of wool. "Well, it's more like naalbinding."
Bones and Spock stare at him.
"How do you even know this shit?" says Bones eventually, apparently speaking for both of them.
"I was five!" says Jim. "He thought I was being illogically restless!"
"Where were you?" says Spock.
"… at a funeral reception," admits Jim.
"Jimmy," says Bones, "I know you don't like talking bad about your mama, bless her heart, but really?"
Spock says nothing because to Spock all mothers are sacred, but his eyebrows are nearly as judgy as Sakel's had been that day.
now I'm going to do more drabble bits, debate the relative sanity of Kelvin cameos and redo all my damn programs for this computer.
Apparently it's more-or-less expected that Jim will cherrypick a few things from Sakel's collection before sending it on, although not the really valuable ones.
"Minor objects," clarifies Old Spock, his trusted - well, mostly trusted - source on not pissing Vulcans off. (Jim doesn't entirely trust him because he knows Spocks.) "As a remembrance of your mentor."
Jim's eyebrows shoot up.
"Yes, part of the game is to find something nobody else realizes is valuable," says Old Spock.
"That won't be a problem," says Jim, looking down at his PADD. "They're all valuable now." He pulls a face. "On the other hand, at least I won't want the 'tapestry depicting the triumph of logic and rationalism over the forces of chaos and emotionalism'."
"If it is the same one I remember, it is not something a human would find attractive," allows Old Spock. "Truly, James, find something to remind you of your mentor."
"Yeah, okay," says Jim, wondering if he's going to find a picture of Sakel's pet sehlat or whatever to add to his collection of cat pictures.
The tapestry, as it happens, isn't that bad - it's sort of swirly and jagged at the bottom, and swirly and smooth at the top. What makes it strange to human eyes is that the calm is represented in bright red and the chaos in blues and greens.
Also, Vulcan have this thing about abstract art, which even Jim's Spock cannot deny is really weird.
"Abstract art is all about emotions," argues Jim, holding up a twisty piece of metal undoubtedly destined to be labeled 'Aspiration' in a museum.
Spock's eyebrow twitches in the way that means he both agrees with Jim and wants to commit suicide for doing so.
"I mean, it's not like a picture of a cat by a fire or whatever," continues Jim relentlessly, "but don't you think abstract art is a way of expressing emotion without the constricting bounds of representalism?"
Spock puts the robe he's folding into a plastic cube and stares at him. "I was given to understand you slept through your required fine art courses, Captain."
"And I got an A," says Jim, smugly.
Spock gives him Headache Face 45, Oh My God I Willingly Went To Space With You, What The Fuck Was I Thinking? with a dash of 17, It Really Burns My Ass When You Pretend to Be Dumb, Dickwad. Jim loves all of Spock's headache faces. They make him happy when skies are gray. He spends hours thinking of ways to make Spock develop new ones - which is a dead secret even from Bones, because if Spock ever gets confirmation of that little habit, Jim is going to die.
"Jim," says Bones, poking his head in from the storage area, "Why is there three huge vacuum bags of unspun wool here?"
"Is there a label on it?" says Jim. Bones knows some Vulcan, but only in a really specialized way - he can read enough to know when something is poisonous, and he is the only human Jim knows who knows, and can spell and pronounce correctly, the Vulcan word for measles. Jim mangles the vowels a little on it himself. Bones learned it during an incident on New Vulcan where a lot of Vulcan kids caught it and had to be nursed through it. That was when they had all learned that, yes, adult Vulcans freak out. Logically, maybe, but there was hysteria and panic spread lavishly around the entire colony, not that anybody really blamed them.
"Yeah," says Bones. "But all I can make out is Down Left Tree Down Left Number Number."
Jim gets up and looks. "Southwest Alder and 11," he translates. "Traditional Handarts Society. Spinning demonstration."
"Does that mean these things are spinning …. things?" says Bones, dubiously holding out a box.
"No, that's Vulcan knitting needles," says Jim absently, typing the address into his padd. It's in walking distance, it seems, although maybe not if they're hauling vacuum bags full of wool. "Well, it's more like naalbinding."
Bones and Spock stare at him.
"How do you even know this shit?" says Bones eventually, apparently speaking for both of them.
"I was five!" says Jim. "He thought I was being illogically restless!"
"Where were you?" says Spock.
"… at a funeral reception," admits Jim.
"Jimmy," says Bones, "I know you don't like talking bad about your mama, bless her heart, but really?"
Spock says nothing because to Spock all mothers are sacred, but his eyebrows are nearly as judgy as Sakel's had been that day.