Personal Log: Commander Spock Ko-fu'Sarek

Spock did not fully support the native Kirk's position but she could find little logical reason to object to it. That she still desired to was...discomfiting.

The door to her temporary quarters parted and Spock entered first. She momentarily relished the absolute placement of everything. The chair in the corner, the desk and it's perfect alignment to the wall--there was a 2.4 degree convex bow to the shape of the bulkhead, but such errors were structural in capacity and thus beyond her ability to correct.

Her eyes fell on the temporary bed that had been allocated them. It was slightly askew of the starboard-aft corner. It had usurped her meditative space.

It was of no consequence, Spock reminded herself, meditation could occur anywhere.

Spock stepped aside, clearing the threshold, and permitted T'Vau entry.

(OOC - I should put a warning on this, there are some...uncomfortable family moments beneath the cut. Just FYI.

Also: If anyone wants me to retcon their conversation with fSpock, just let me know. Since it's unestablished wobble time, I figured what the hell? Why not?)

From her position on the floor, Spock regarded the ornament that decorated her doorway. As of yet, this was the only decorative piece she had acquired in this plane of reality. It was a curious element, disassociated from the space around it, and altogether fitting in a metaphorical sense.

That it had inspired, through some simplistic form of the Butterfly Effect, a sequence of curious visitations, only made it more interesting. It was impossible to divine the statistical likelihood of so many sequential visits, so Spock did not attempt to. Rather, she considered the visitations as she regarded the ornament.

She had met an actor who was a non Vulcan variant of Spock, spoken with the native variant of herself, engaged in conversation with a female variant of Christian Chapel, become somewhat engendered to her non-native variant, and had established a formalized friendship with James Kirk.

That particular conversation, extended as it was, lingered in her mind. The visceral reaction she'd acquired, as result, had not faded. As a prolonged state it was both unusual and uncomfortable, and Spock closed her eyes as she took a meditative breath.

It should have been easily corrected, her discomfort. It would have been, had it been any other subject matter. Spock resigned herself to the fact that she would garner little sleep and attempted, to the best of her ability, to clear her mind.

( Internal clarity is often motivated by external complication. )