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Torre Ze'Rea

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About Torre Ze'Rea

  • Rank
    What the mind can conceive, the body can achieve
  • Birthday 08/11/1910

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  • Gender
  • Location
    This frakkin' world
  • Interests
    Wicca, Music, Star Trek, Chocolate, Reading, Drawing, Acting, RPG, Sci-Fi, Computers, Games, Photography, History, Mathematics, Biology, psychology, plants, animals, my friends and family, dancing, swimming, and martial arts<br /><br />Birthday: August 11th
  1. Happy birthday STSF! Live long and prosper, all that jazz. :P
  2. "Well. Hellooo there."
  3. Promoted to Lieutenant! Yay!
  4. Well, the percentage that most people use that -doesn't- go into the sewers differs for person, so if they just chose one common percentage to be that, they would either be severely under, or over charging different people, so it really makes more sense to have two different bills, that depend on the amount of water going into the sewers and the amount people actually use. Never studied this, but just my theory as to why.
  5. Ze’Rea entered her quarters, her hair stuck to her head with sweat, still angry from her meeting with Lieutenant Kent. She figured her sister was asleep, and went to her room, to take a shower. She grabbed her nightgown, a sleeveless, short, white cotton dresslike one, and stripped off her exercise clothing as she went into the sonic shower, hanging the nightgown on a hook on her way in. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as she activated it, and felt all the dirt and sweat disappear. She loved the feeling. It was calming, almost like a real water bath. She enjoyed those when she lived on Bajor. Bajor. The Bajoran; Kent. She wasn’t really surprised she was like that. Most of the Bajoran crewmen in engineering avoided her, and she really didn’t have any shifts anywhere else. A blessing she supposed. She sighed as she deactivated the shower, stepping out to pull on the nightgown. She shuffled back into the main part of her bedroom, sitting down to brush out her hair, before lying back on the bed, and pulling the covers up over herself. “Computer, lights please,” she said, and as the lights dimmed, she rolled onto one side, closing her eyes in an attempt to sleep. She was 14 again, and sitting on top of a grassy hill, beneath, reading a book, Ringworld, an ancient earth novel. She was around 5 inches shorter then she was at 25, and her thick, glossy hair was only to her mid ribs. She brushed a piece of her long black hair out of her face, as she finished the chapter she was on, and she looked up, watching a group of other adolescents talking a ways away. She had been on Bajor for almost a year, and had learned the groups of people to stay away from, and groups of those more accepting. That particular group has expressed their distaste for her, and other Cardassians quite clearly, and Ze’Rea really hadn’t spent much time trying to talk to them, she just stayed away from them. But now when she looked up again, she saw two of the boys, and one of the girls set off towards where she sat. Her heart sank as they grew close, and she stood, steeling herself for any insults they planned to throw her way. They sniggered as they reached her. “Oh, look, its, The Cardie,” the older of the boys said, smirking. Ze’Rea pursed her lips, and crossed her arms. “And what, are you doing here?” the girl asked, raising an eyebrow as she planted a hand firmly on one hip, and surveyed her with a look of disgust. “Reading,” Ze’Rea responded, tucking the book under her arm. The younger of the boys peered at it, snorting. “Ringworld? Cardassian I take.” Ze’Rea shook her hair back, in an attempt to hide her growing nervousness. “Human… from the 20th century…” “Still trying to fit in? Can’t on Bajor, can’t on Cardassia. My my my, it seems you really don’t belong anywhere,” the girl said again, smirking as she watched Ze’Rea. Ze’Rea felt a prickle of anger, but before she could respond in kind, she heard a voice. “What is this?” Ze’Rea and the others looked behind her, to see Ze’Rea’s parents daughter, and Ze’Rea’s technical sister. She was tall, thin, and has beautiful auburn hair and almond shaped eyes. She walked over to where Ze’Rea and the other three were, glaring at the three Bajorans. “They bothering you, again, Zaz?” Ze’Rea pursed her lips. “Its under control…” Mundaha, Ze’Rea’s sister frowned slightly, before sneering at the other Bajorans. “Come on Zaz… got some places we can go where we won’t be annoyed,” and Mundaha flipped her hair back, taking Ze’Rea by the arm, and half dragging her over the hill. “I could have handled it!” Ze’Rea exclaimed, but still letting her sister drag her, partially relieved. “Feel like going back then?” Mundaha said, still walking down the hill back towards the more settled area. Ze’Rea shook her head. “That’s alright…” Mundaha stopped, and looked at Ze’Rea. “Ze’Rea… you’re really going to want to be careful. There are some, if not many, Bajorans who still worst of Cardassians then they think badly of the Dominion.” Ze’Rea sighed, nodding. “I know… its funny. Some think, myself included, that Cardassians are so racist, with their feelings about how Bajorans and other species in the alpha quadrant are lesser to them, but there are so many Bajorans who think worst of Cardassians then Cardassians think of Bajorans.” Mundaha nodded grimly. “It stings… to think about being under control of another species that thinks they are better and superior to you.” “I would imagine so…” Torre said, starting down the hill, Mundaha walking with her. “I’m just glad I have you, and Mum and Dad to help me… and Cerina of course…” she said, speaking of her parents, and her best friend, who she met a year ago when she arrived. Mundaha nodded. “Keep your friends close…” “I have to don’t I? I don’t have that many anyways…” Ze’Rea woke up, it was, according to her clock, around 6 in the morning. She had been sleeping for a few hours. She heard someone moving, and looked over to see Kira standing there. “Your mumbling in your sleep again,” Kira accused her, still looking unnervingly old for a six year old. Ze’Rea sighed. “Sorry. Could you hear me from your room?” “Well… you sounded like you were having a conversation with someone else in your sleep. It was slightly amusing,” Kira responded, climbing onto Ze’Rea’s bed. “Can we have breakfast now?” Ze’Rea looked down at her. It was strange to think, that a few hours ago, she had been tied to a table, surrounded by pig men talking about how she was sick, especially around her younger sister. “Sure… breakfast…”
  6. Happy birthday o fuzzy one!
  7. Are you sure this is where we parked the ship Bones?
  8. Well monks, they gotta do stuff the weird way...
  9. Let the holy wars begin... circa 2009!
  10. ::likes carmel, but prefers the food of the Gods; Chocolate::
  11. Commander JoNs in past days...
  12. Happy birthday Sam! Hope it's a good one!
  13. Welcome to the game Zremorca! Like Kansas said, it's a wicked cool RPG site.
  14. Ze'Rea leaned her head back on the table. She had her panic attacks under control by now, and was simply concentrating on breathing. 'This day… mind-numbing is an understatement.' She hoped whatever the people tying them there, weren't trying to prepare them for whatever… eating, breeding, slave-labor, ect. That was something she didn't need. She had to admit, this wasn't as shocking as it might have been if she was younger. After all… it had happened to her before. Only difference, she is 12 years older. Well… that and, there was more pain, or so she remembered. That part of her memory was foggy as she couldn't remember anything before that. She was more worried about everyone else. There seemed to be a lot more screaming and banging then there was earlier, and she didn't know if it was from the pigmen doing something, or someone freaking out. She was curious about what was going on. She remembered appearing in a dungeon like place, all the stuff that happened, and then… darkness. It was surprisingly peaceful… and suddenly she came too in Engineering, and was transported here. Mainly she was worried about her little sister. Where was she… was she hurt? If she was there was going to be serious hell to pay. 'I'm tied to a table… again.'
  15. Indeed! Happy birthday Laura!