The Plasma Nymph

Posted on Sat Oct 25th, 2025 @ 4:39pm by Rook & Lieutenant JG Elen Rell

3,955 words; about a 20 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: The Green Kiss, USS Guinevere
Timeline: Early 2389

Elen Rell's boots hit the deck of the Green Kiss not with a whisper, but with a firm clunk of someone who was either half bouncing or rushing through the hours. She had just come off duty but already the uniform jacket had been discarded in her quarters on her way here. Her hair was free but the scarf that had bound it, a crochet item in a brilliant hue of yellows and oranges, hung around her neck. The combadge had been put on the vest she wore under her uniform jacket because safety first! Also, always be within easy reach. Her eyes scouted through the people gathered, other off-duty officers and enlisted. For a moment she let herself feel the imprint of them, the emotions brushing against her psyche before she closed herself up. Like a little razor clam, closed up against the harshness.

She exhaled slowly, feeling herself in herself, before she walked to the bar. Her elbows went to rest on it as she watched the bartender, eyes on the long hair, the ears...and she smiled, brightly. "Hullo! Okay, so basically, I've spent half my shift doing diagnostics on the EPS conduits and as much as I love it...I'm in desperate need for a drink. What's good today?"

Rook turned to face her fully, running his eyes over the creature in front of him and drinking her up in the process. How she vibrated. How she glowed. How she had...something made by hand around her neck. "If I could tempt you with a cocktail...?"

"Oh yes," Elen laughed and nodded, jumping up on into her seat. She shifted and put her hands on the counter, fingers drumming. "A cocktail sounds brilliant. Nothing with apricot though. Gives me a rash, even replicated ones."

"Doubtful," he gave a tsk at the claim, watching her with narrowed eyes for a few more moments before finally setting a curved glass out. He started with a small scoop of crushed ice, followed by a blue Andorian ice berry liqueur and a yellow melon liqueur. A flick of his wrist swirled the liquids together until they turned green. He topped it with a sparkling citrus press, a twist of burnt lemon rind and a sprinkling of shimmer dust before sliding it towards her. "The Plasma Nymph."

Her eyes widened as she watched it, reaching to stroke the glass. Her eyes went back to him before she smiled. "That name is...beautiful," she said and picked it up. She sipped it and her eyes widened. She outright moaned and tipped her head back. "Oh yes! This is...just dance and lightening across my tongue. You are a genius!"

Rook gave a single grunt of laughter in his throat before shrugging as if it were nothing. "Some people fix EPS conduits, others perform alchemy."

Elen sighed softly as she nodded, her eyes warm. "They should prescribe these cocktails in sickbay. 'You look overworked, head to the Green Kiss for two cocktails, stat'!" she grinned before she tilted her head. "I'm Elen Rell."

"Rook," he offered in return, starting to clear the bottles away at knowing she was satisfied with her drink. "The medicinal quality of drink has been noted for centuries, I am not sure why doctors have gone so backwards...."

"I know!" Elen nodded as she watched him, her eyes sparkling with interest. She didn't quest out to him. Vulcans, and he did look Vulcan enough for her not to try, seemed to be blank spots for her. Instead she used her eyes, taking in how he moved. "I mean, my Dad's a doctor and he always says that sometimes you just need a stiff drink to settle for bed. Not sure he should have told that to an eight year old..." she hummed to herself, but the smile showed she was only joking.

"It seems to have done no harm," he replied lightly, and it was impossible to tell if he was being wry or not as he turned to replicate more ice.

"Well, depends...I left my knitting in the Captain's seat...he sat on it," she made a face and then grinned. "I felt embarrassed enough to want to sink into the warp core."

"An unusual weapon of choice, but not entirely useless," he cocked his head as he thought on it, his expression somewhat disconcerting in the way it seemed as if he might be going through all the ways it wasn't useless.

"Oh, tell me about it," Elen grinned and tapped her fingers on the counter, studying him closely. "So, tall, dark haired and mysterious. Half this ship will swoon, the other come up with dark backstories on you...heroic, slightly tragic, potentially with lost love."

"And all true, I'd dare say," he replied lightly, with just a lilt of amusement at the idea of allowing such stories to spread. The more falsehood that trundled around, the harder it was to find the truth.

Her eyes shone at that and she lifted her drink in a salute to him. "Oh, there's always a grain of truth in any fairy tale," she said and then sipped her drink, moaning. "You're a warlock you are...magical drinks."

"I can assure you, if I had space magic, I wouldn't be serving drinks," he gave a soft, rough chuckle deep in his throat.

"You would if you were on the run," Elen said with playful challenge, her eyes shining. "Maybe from...oh, some dark ops sort of arm of some...world...non-Federation. So you're hiding here..."

"Well this would be an excellent hiding place," he agreed with the sentiment, but no more as he watched her intently.

She bit her lip as she watched him, eyes her shining with warmth. Oh, he was a sneaky one. She liked it, she liked that she couldn't pin him down. It was different. A new language to learn, a puzzle to sit with and enjoy. Not to solve or fix, just to understand as another person. "Between us, I like to think we all hide from something on Starships."

Rook rested his folded arms on the bar to lean in closer to her, studying her intently for a long moment, as if trying to work hers out. He finally pointed a finger at her. "Boredom."

She gasped and made a dramatic show of clutching her chest before she winked. "Well, sort of. Halfway true. My family are...all about service. Never considered not doing it myself. But you're right...want to avoid boredom, become an Engineer on a Starfleet vessel."

"You must be a smart candy," he replied lightly, a glimmer in his eyes, but it was impossible to tell if he'd mixed the phrasing up intentionally.

"Not...overly smart," Elen said with a shrug and sipped her drink, closing her eyes. "I just think outside the box at times. Not all times, just...you know...some. Enough to help."

"And what's your passion, Elen?" he asked as he took to wiping the bar down, watching her with a small smile.

Elen bit her lip as she considered it, eyes open to just study him. "Engineering," she said and grinned. "Don't get me wrong, it's anything mechanic really. Love it. Love how it makes sense, how you can just...focus in and get it done. Of course, I do that with like a hundred small projects scattered around me and possibly too many snacks, but it's...it's my safe space. A warp core won't laugh at you if you trip when you work on it."

"Just don't trip into it, that can get messy," he met her eyes as he tidied, his own dancing.

Hers shone as she watched him, holding his eyes without any hesitation. "She knows who loves her, she won't let me get hurt..." she said playfully. "And you, Rook...you are a stirrer...in the best way."

He blinked, watching her with wide midnight blue eyes, touching his chest with an elegant hand. "Me?"

"Oh yes, you," she said and sat back, moving her hands as if to frame his face for a holophoto. "Mm...see, I am thinking midnight blue. Scarf. Or shawl. Dark, almost black...possibly with hidden sparkles or colours...like a nebula hidden in the depths of space."

"Oh...you made that..." he motioned to the shawl around her neck, tilting his head with curiosity.

She smiled and touched it, her fingertips dancing over it. "I did. I do a lot. Have a tendency to always have to keep my hands busy...so I make a lot of stuff. I also don't sleep much."

"Guilty conscience?" he teased wryly, reaching to touch the crochet for himself, judging how she might have made it.

She smiled and unwrapped it from her neck, offering it over to him. "More like a list of five billion things to do with a touch of 'oh Dust, did I really say that to Commander WhatsHisName'...."

"No one could prove it even if you did," he replied bluntly as he took the wool. He studied the linked loops, tilting his head. "Have you considered chainmail?"

She grinned at the words, nodding. "I have, but I've been experimenting with different yarns where I've added other properties to it. So for instance...knitted gloves that can absorb delta radiation away from the skin and protect against heat. I've tested them in the science lab, the maths is good."

Rook didn't quite manage to straighten the amusement out of his lips in time. "I'm sure they love you for it..."

"Oh, it's fine...they only tut at me quietly," she said and winked. "Being the acting Assistant Chief has its benefits. Like waltzing into spaces and making sure of them."

"Ah, you abuse your power, I approve," he teased lightly, offering the shawl back with elegant hands.

"Only like...tiny abuse..." she said as she took it, watching him for a moment, shifting in her seat as if she was trying to shake off energy. "You like handmade stuff, Rook?"

"I appreciate good handiwork," he cocked his head, not elaborating on what the difference might be.

She nodded and draped it around her neck again, fingers tracing the stitches. "Not sure mine is good, but it holds," she said lightly.

"Useful skill; tacking stitches that hold," he chuckled that time, softening the words as he set a bowl of snacks out for her.

She looked at the snacks and realised her stomached growled with it. She reached out for a handful, more or less stuffing them into her mouth. "Mm...something has to. Sure, won't always look perfect, might be a bit loose over the knuckles...but if it holds...it gets used."

"Do you...want to order something to eat?" he suggested with an arched eyebrow, his head tilting to observe how eagerly she ate.

She looked at him with surprise before she nodded. She took another handful, considering it. "Yeah...sort of...skipped a meal. I think," she made a face, her eyes warm with it. "Difficult to keep track."

Rook knew better than to make a comment about it explaining why she was skinny. He kept it to himself. He slid a menu to her instead, tapping one of the entries. "You might like the arancini. Quick and easy..."

She picked it up to look at it, reading the description before she smiled. "Never had it, but sounds nice. Sure," she put it down and then ate a few more of the snacks. "An order of arancini please."

He tapped on the screen to put it through, wondering if she was always so pliable. He suspected she could have her moments of stubbornness. It was in the set of her jaw. "I like them...but then, I like anything fried."

"Fried food is your weekness?" she smiled at that before she leant closer, not across the bar, just a few inches to meet his eyes. "You ever had nachos?"

He matched the stance, resting on folded arms against the bar as he watched with a small, half smile. "Yes...inefficient, but tasty."

"You ever had Taquitos? There's this little place on Mars that did the best I've ever had..." she said with a smile. "Crunch and real stuff. There's a lot of...those sort of places on Mars. Places where you get small bites of food, or large bowls, home made in rustic spaces."

He shook his head, not familiar with them as he set his chin in his hand. "I have only been to Mars on a single dalliance, there was little time for food."

"Okay...so imagine small tacos..." she said, trying to find the best way to describe them. "But rolled up like a cadet in a sleeping bag...then...deep fried..." her voice dropped a little, sounding breathy...and then her stomach growled and she smiled sheepishly at herself. "It's worth trying one day."

"Imagine cadets being deepfried in sleeping bags?" he gave a mock thoughtful, far away look. "Intriguing..."

"Okay, you're giving me proper supervillain vibes here," she teased as she looked at him with warmth. "Or maybe it's the way you tilt your head."

"You said it first, not me," he pointed out, but with a soft chuckle. He was enjoying playing with this one. She enjoyed a game as much as he did.

"Well...I've never been good with describing things," she teased and winked, watching him. "And we've all know a cadet or two that would benefit from being knocked down a peg or two..." she winked and sat back, fingers drumming on the bar for a fleeting second.

"Any officers that fit that description?" he asked lightly, taking a glass to polish to add to the casual presentation of the question.

"Me, obviously," Elen laughed and gave a shrug. "But the universe is good at putting me back down in my place whenever I get overexcited. And I am sure there's loads, but not anyone I...hang out with."

"Hm, it's fine, I understand, I need to bribe you with more drinks before I get to the good intel," he teased, straightening as he heard the ding. He moved to open a hatch, taking her food out to set down on the bar, sliding cutlery and a napkin over too. "Break one open first, let the steam out..."

She did as told, taking the knife and fork and gently opening one. She breathed in the scent and looked at him, a small smile curling her lips. "I'm an open book, I can tell you all sorts of gossip...but you run this bar and here is where all the gossip gets made so...me telling you something new?" she shook her head and carefully reached to pick up the one she had opened. She took a bite, finding the rice still too hot but it smelled and tasted so good she couldn't help herself.

"Oh, trust me, you are giving me a whole new tome of information," his lips tugged into a smile as he poured her some sparkling water.

She looked at him at that, her eyes shining. "About me? You reading my body language and my mind?" she asked, eyes flashing with humour. "Because, you know...to me you're a shadow...I know you're there, but even if I tried I doubt I'd get anything from your emotions except a reflection of my own."

"I read a lot of things," he replied vaguely with a shrug, sliding the glass across to her as he met her eyes. "And sometimes, it is just listening to the broadcast."

"Mm..." Elen gave a small nod, watching him with interest before she reached for the water to drink. "I know I can be loud. Broadcasting, I mean...always got told off by Betazoids for that...'oh your mother should have taught you better'..." she rolled her eyes, but for a moment there was something almost sad there. "I'm not an empath, not really...it's more like...a vibe I get from people. Not like I can touch someone and go 'oh, you carry great sorrow within your heart'..."

"Who'd want that," he grimaced, shaking his head as he glanced around. "Trust me, I'm a magnet for people telling me all their problems. You don't want it."

Elen bit her lip at that, almost to try and stop her next words. They came out anyway. "Means that they instinctively trusts something about you, and want to connect."

"It means I'm a bar tender," he gave her a small smile though, and for just a moment, one eye closed...but it was so fast it was impossible to tell if it was a wink.

Elen laughed softly, reaching for more food to pop into her mouth. She looked thoughtful as she chewed, then swallowed. "Maybe, or just being a tall handsome stranger tickles every Starfleet personnel's...interests," she said playfully. "Also, you're not Starfleet, so...if someone offloads about their horrid Chief, you're not likely to run to the Commodore."

Rook arched an eyebrow at that, leaning casually against the bar as he studied his black painted nails. "I know how to treat a secret."

"Exactly," Elen said and her eyes went to his nails, then down to hers. Short, because engineers broke nails left right and centre. Unpainted. She sighed wistfully.

He followed her gaze, amusement dancing in his eyes as he shifted a hand to let her look. "Uniforms are so restricting..."

"Oh, that's not the issue," she said and leant forward to look. "It's more I'll get distracted half way through, or I'll bite my nails, or scrape it off when I need to keep my fingers busy. If I do it, it lasts a few hours if I am lucky."

"Nail jewels?" he suggested lightly, leaning close to look at her hand casually, but didn't reach out to take it.

"Asking to lose the entire fingernail while working in the guts of a console," Elen said softly, but with some lamenting in her voice. "Basically, these hands?" she held them up, calloused and even now with some scrapes healed. "If it wasn't for modern medicine, they'd look like I had grated them. Burns, cuts, almost lost a few fingers...no one talks about Engineering being the one place where you can reroute power, save the ship and also slice your palm up all over the antimatter containment chamber."

He considered the hands for a long moment, his head tilting in thought. He lifted a finger, tracing a black fingernail close to the skin in a pattern. "A tattoo in burnt umber would be fetching on the back of your hand..."

Her eyes went to it, tracing the pattern for a long moment, biting her lip. "Bet I'd accidentally burn it off within a week," she said with a smile. "And that's not a challenge, just fact."

"Then try it first with henna," he suggested lightly before reaching to refill her water, watching her face, the worrying of her lip. "You could have a different design every time."

"Henna..." she watched him for a long moment before she smiled, eyes flashing with warmth. "Do you draw? I can't draw a line to please the eye...and don't know any artists..."

Rook's eyebrow quirked with amusement and he reached under the bar for an old fashioned pen. He pulled over a napkin, starting to sketch a pattern that might have been a web, but he added leaf like flicks along the threads.

She watched with awe, her eyes shining at the work. She glanced at him, briefly, then back at what he was doing. "That's beautiful," she said, her eyes taking in the detail of his face as he worked.

"Or perhaps you would prefer something that speaks to your work..." he flipped the napkin, using straight lines this time, a network of them, connected by circle 'nodes', more condensed at the bottom of the hand, with just a few longer threads reaching up to the fingers.

Her eyes went to it, lips parting as she tilted her head. "I've seen that before," she said, a slight frown coming to her. Where had she seen that? It was a board, somewhere...a non-Federation system, she could almost grasp the memory.

"Who can say," Rook arched an eyebrow with a small smile, his eyes holding hers for a long moment. He left it a beat longer than he needed before pulling back. "Henna only lasts a couple of weeks. It would be no bother."

She blinked and looked at him, her mind still spinning. After a moment she shook it from her, physically, before she smiled. "You offering to do that?" she teased, her eyes shining with it. "Drinks and henna?"

"Why not? There's not a huge queue for art appreciation around here..." Rook watched her with amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Deal," she said without hesitation, watching him with shining eyes. "But one good turn deserves another. I'll make you something. But...you can tell me what you want me to make. Usually I just...feel the situation, let inspiration hit. But you seem...carefully curated."

Rook chuckled at the delicate way she'd put it...but she'd read him right. He took a moment to consider, looking around the bar as if for inspiration. "That depends, can you crochet me plausible deniability?" he quirked an eyebrow as he took hold of his fruit knife, tossing it lightly and catching it nimbly before thrusting it back into the wooden board. "How about a fingerless glove, non-slip, black, just one..." he looked back to her, his lips curling just a touch. "For my...orange peeling hand."

She looked at the fruit knife, eyes wide at just how graceful and quick he had been. "Oh, I can do that," she said and held her hand out. "Let me have a look at your hand for size. And promise, I won't read your palm...because obviously...I don't know how to do it."

He placed his left hand in hers, leaning on the counter with his elbow, a soft chuckle in his throat. "An interesting human superstition, to have one's fate literally in the palm of your hand."

"It is, isn't it? I never believed in stuff like that," she said and used her fingers to measure his hand before she nodded, eyes narrowed as she focused. "Something sturdy, non slip...reinforced so the nasty orange doesn't bite you back while you're peeling it..." she glanced up and let go of his hand.

"Perfect," he gave her a charming smile, sweeping a slight bow of gratitude. "You honour me, young adventurer."

Elen clapped at the display, her eyes wide with awe at how graceful and elegant he was. Oh, proper charmer too. That smile most likely opened doors...and more. "Well, you say that now...I personally think my knitting isn't returned because they're worried how I'd take it if they hated it..." she winked, playfully. "So you better get your acting on in case you don't like it. Can't have an engineer sobbing into your drinks."

"The whole world is a stage, that is a human saying yes?" Rook leant on the bar to her, dark humour shining in his eyes.

"And life is a cabaret, my dear," Elen said softly, her eyes on him. And she realised that she would spend a lot of time here. Not just for the music, the vibes, the drinks...but also to enjoy the dance of words with someone she couldn't quite put a fix on.

---

Lt. jg Elen Rell
Acting Assistant Chief Engineer
USS Guinevere

Rook
Proprietor of The Green Kiss
USS Guinevere

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