This is a general contact post for B'Elanna. If you're interested in plotting or RPing with her, start here.

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Torres here.

What do you want?

B'Elanna sat at a table outside a coffee shop in Osten, a forgotten cup of raktajino on the table next to her and her tablet in hand.

In an ideal world, Voyager would have arrived with photon torpedos primed and engines blazing. But this wasn't an ideal world. As much as she hated to admit it, B'Elanna knew that she was more likely to be reunited with her crew mates if they were imprisoned as well. The rescue she'd been waiting for - and would keep on waiting for, because she wasn't and would never be the sort of person to give up - was dependent on a lot discoveries that had yet to be made.

She missed her crew, of course. During the years in the Delta Quadrat, they'd become more like a family than anything else. That was exactly why she hoped that she wouldn't spot a familiar name on the map. She didn't want them to experience the sense of helplessness and isolation that came with this sort of imprisonment. She didn't want them to have to put up with the uncertain danger of the smaller glitches and the widespread panic of the citywide glitches. She just wanted to get home.

Giving up, she got to her feet and pocketed her tablet. The Delta Flyer was a short walk away. Home was supposed to be where the heart is and, in Taxon, it was the closest thing to a home that she had.

No.

Don't even think about it.

History had never been B’Elanna’s favourite subject. She preferred to live in the here and now. She liked physical activity – running or sparring or hoverball or something – and she liked engineering. She liked holonovels that involved a lot of participation. In short, she liked being in control. Learning about things that she couldn’t affect wasn’t her idea of fun.

( She sat at the back of ‘Early Starfleet History’, attempting to take notes.Collapse )

Prompt: "Things would be different one day. But you had to start small, like oak trees."
Word Count: 515

Wait a minute, what makes you think I need another home? What makes you think you can handle it? You're already worrying about being rusty.

Anyway, I don’t have time to be dragged to some alien city. I’m busy on Voyager and you're busy with that crazy vampire.

No, I don’t care how much you like the Star Trek cast there. They’re from the wrong star date! The Federation and the Empire didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye back then.

And don’t call me temperamental. You know I'm telling the truth.