They were a rough and ready, "come at me" space marine. They had seen quite a few battles and had the scars to prove it, and won them all. They'd also worked with dozens of races from the roughest deathworlders to the gentlest havenworlders, the perfect person you wanted aboard ship when exploring out on the edge. Yet, each meal break, if they had few other duties, they were unusually quiet. When they moved into their quarters, other than the tools of the trade, their weapons, their livesuits, and their clothing, there was very little outside the bare minimum they really had. Save for one case. One thing that they held close. They rarely ordered anything either other than the minimum requirements they needed for food despite best efforts to encourage them to treat themselves better. It was only when there was an accident, the special case they carried falling to the ground breaking open revealing colored pencils and beautiful drawings of many worlds and many races, did the inner soul of this otherwise gruff individual show. And it was breathtaking. -- Dreamer
Humans have a word for it, because of course they do. They call the collection of lifestyle choices of Human Rye spartan. After a famous, historical tribe of warriors who were trained to need only the barest essentials. Human Rye kept to a routine of MRE's and lo-cost Nutrifood Mealbagz(tm) for food, only drank water, and owned the minimum mandatory clothing. Dress uniform, livesuit, casual uniform, Skins, and one regulation set of pajamas. She had no picture frames, no mementos, no tchotckes... only a relatively large case that was a vessel for an assortment of non-toxic chemical compounds, according to scans.
It was a case with a lock and, judging by the 'battle scars' on its exterior, it was a treasured item. It had been through a lot, and bore the marks. Nevertheless, Human Rye was not inclined to share any of its content with anyone else. Its purpose was a mystery to the rest of the crew.
Human Rye did make friends and pack-bond, but it was in the process of work. Everything was work, with no room to play. On their mandatory breaks, Rye would retreat to her room and, judging by the complete silence within, do absolutely nothing in there. They didn't question it, not twice. Human Rye was the kind of Human who did their job and did it well, but they weren't that big on talking.
All the assessments said that Human Rye was as stable as any Human could get and they were pack-bonding as much as they liked. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Human Rye counted all her crew-mates as good friends. She was ready to ride or die for each and every one of them.
A Human expression that was, unfortunately, proven true. Through a series of mishaps and desperate maneuvers, Human Rye was the only one injured. "Better me than you squishy li'l dinos," she croaked. Then, uncharacteristically, she made a request. "Hey, do me a favour and bring me my wood box? I'm gonna be laid low for a bit."
Human Rye only had one arm that was still functional. For everything that needed two hands, she would need assistance. Companion Zorq easily volunteered. Some of the most useful things in the known universe were a pair of helpful hands. Deeper bonding would happen as a direct result of being helpful.
An added bonus was finally learning what Human Rye had in her box.
There was... a stack of stiff boards, all blank and painted white. A larger weatherproof folio sat beside a nest of brushes. A small brace of colourful paints nested atop a blotched and stained pallet.
"You make art," breathed Companion Zorq.
"Sort of," said Rye. "It's just a hobby. It helps me relax at the end of the day."
Zorq held the pallet steady as Rye worked on a new art piece. Watching the brushes applied with seeming negligence to the board that was also propped up for Rye's convenience.
Medik Lascer insisted that occupational therapy helped with pain management. If a patient had something they could do, it kept them from focusing on any given discomfort.
Zorq had her doubts initially, but it seemed to work. Rye was more fussy without her helper near to assist in the art in progress.
Even a conversation regarding the folio helped. More accurately, it helped Zorq begin to understand her Human. Inside were boards like the one Rye was busy making. Portraits. Landscapes. People and friends she'd known before. Full colour and beautifully rendered, yet Rye was embarrassed by them.
"They're just my memories," she insisted. "Hack art. Silly art. Not worth it for anyone but me."
Zorq noticed that Rye's current piece was a portrait of... Zorq. Not holding the expression of concern and care that she had been wearing for so many days, now, but in a happier moment. It was beautiful, almost photorealistic, but just impressionistic enough to make the viewer realise that it was a painting.
"It's beautiful," insisted Zorq. "They're all beautiful."
"Nah," said Rye. "Nobody wants 'em. Why bother spending hours on paint when you can get the same result with a camera?"
"Because it is art, and you have made everything you see beautiful." Zork gently petted her Human's head, careful to avoid the bandages. "I would like this one if you do not want to keep it. Or... one similar to it if you can spare one."
"Aaaw..." Human Rye sniffled. "You're too sweet. You're gonna make me cry..."
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Cobalt70]
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