The Forest of Forever

Posted on Sun Mar 30th, 2025 @ 5:18pm by Fleet Manager Kas Shar’zhen (NPC) & Master Steward Othor Jaxz

1,527 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Meanwhile...
Location: Kas' quarters- Second Star
Timeline: Far too late for children to be up

Kas watched Othor with the kids, the man had a gift for storytime, and it was both comforting and troubling. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, as she observed the scene unfolding before her. The sight of Othor narrating with such ease made her chest tighten—not with jealousy, but with doubt. Sometimes, she felt as though her children looked to him for the warmth and whimsy she struggled to provide.

For all her love and dedication, Kas sometimes felt like an outsider in her own home, as though the very connection that came so effortlessly to Othor eluded her. It wasn’t jealousy—no, she was grateful for his bond with her children. But doubt had a way of creeping in, whispering that she was trying to fill a role she wasn’t suited for.

Othor’s flowing robes and animated gestures brought Flotter and Trevis to life in ways the holo-program never could.

Kee, Tor, and Zala were riveted, their antennae pointed toward him as though they were tuning into his every word.

“Trevis grabbed the toadstools, as many as his arms could hold. Within his strong bark, the mycelium could survive the fires! Flotter shouted from across the stormy winds to keep going, save as many as he could!” Othor puffed up his cheeks, imitating the tree elemental, with a dramatic flourish. “Oy’ve joost aboot 'ad me fillw!”

Kee was in stitches, doubling over in fits of laughter. Kas couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. Othor’s impression was terrible—nothing like the holo-program—but somehow that made it even funnier. Kee had confessed months ago that she preferred Othor’s version so much, she no longer wanted to visit the holodeck adaptation. Last time he had tormented her with it until she very nearly had an accident.

“Kee, you doing okay?” Othor asked with mock concern, breaking character for a moment.

Kee flushed but grinned at their inside joke, “That was two years ago, Uncle Othor! And I didnt pee myself!”

He returned to the story without comment and as the tale drew to a close, and Othor bid farewell to the mycelial network and its heroic allies,

“Well,” Othor said, smoothly diving back into the story, “as the wildfire threatened the Forest of Forever, Trevis stood tall, his bark shielding the precious spores. When the storm subsided, Flotter returned to his pond, and Trevis watched over the waters. And from that day on, wherever Trevis and Flotter traveled... a Fun Guy could always be found tagging along.”

Zala leaned forward, her young voice full of curiosity. “So wood and water makes mushrooms?”

Othor didn’t miss a beat. “No, spores. Very tiny things that grow from organic matter like wood and need water to survive.”

This sparked a flurry of questions from all three of them, but Kas cleared her throat, calling their attention. “Ahem, it’s an hour past bedtime. To your alcoves, all of you.”

The kids scrambled to obey, clambering into their designated spaces.

Kas turned to Othor with a playful smirk. “Uncle Othor, it’s your bedtime too.”

He stood gracefully, giving each child a personal farewell. As they exited, the faint sound of Kee's voice echoed through the child monitor, mimicking his earlier line: “Oy’ve joost aboot 'ad me fillw!”

Kas reached for the door, but Othor laid a gentle hand on her arm, stopping her. She met his gaze, seeing in his eyes the wisdom she often relied on. “Let them play with their imaginations a few moments more,” he said softly. “They’ll settle soon enough.”

She nodded, exhaling as she let herself trust his judgment. He always knew when to let go of the need to enforce every rule, a skill she still struggled to learn.

In the main room, Kas sank into her seat and gestured for Othor to take the one beside her. “Othor,” she began hesitantly, “I’m afraid I won’t ever be a good parent like that. Why can’t I let them be when they’re happy?”

Othor took the offered seat, his presence grounding as ever. “Kas, you’re already a great parent. You’re raising three incredible kids while holding down a position of leadership on this ship. That’s no small feat. You’re their anchor, their provider, their protector. And if you sometimes feel out of your depth, that just means you care.”

Kas looked down, her antennae drooping slightly. “But I see how they look at you when you’re with them. The way they laugh, the way they relax. I feel like… like an imposter in my own home.”

Othor knew it would be a sad memory but he needed to say it anyway, "Since Dure passed away, they have lacked for a fathers influence, seeing you in your positions and abilities, here on this ship, has moved you into that role now."

Kas leaned back in her chair, her antennae twitching slightly as her gaze fell on Othor, who was nursing a cup of Andorian blue tea.

“You have a way with them, you know,” she said softly. “Kee, Tor, Zala—they light up when you’re around.”

Othor chuckled, setting his mug down with deliberate care. “It’s nothing magical, Kas. Just a bit of humor and a willingness to embrace their world.”

“I’m serious.” Kas sighed, leaning forward with her hands clasped together. “I watch you, and I wonder if I’m too hard on them. I see you making them laugh, and I think… maybe I’m not cut out to be their mom. I’m always the one saying ‘lights out’ or ‘get to work.’ Meanwhile, you’re telling them stories about fungi saving a forest.”

Othor tilted his head, his thick hands resting on his knees. “Kas, you’re missing the most important part.”

“What’s that?” she asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

“Balance.” He smiled, his deep voice warm and steady. “A parent has to wear a lot of hats—stern commander, loving protector, teacher of life’s lessons. But sometimes, it’s not about being any of those. Sometimes, it’s about letting them know you’re here to play, to laugh.”

Kas frowned, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. “Play? You think I don’t know how to play?”

“You know how,” Othor said, grinning. “You’re just out of practice. Watch this—" He cleared his throat dramatically. “‘Why did the mushroom go to the party?’”

Kas raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because he was a fungi!” Othor burst into performative laughter at his own joke, slapping his knee, she of course knew he was referencing only moments ago but the groans were really drawn from her as he said, "get it? a Fungus reference to reinforce the earlier stories? Not just a random joke."

Kas groaned, burying her face in her hand. “You can’t be serious.”

“But I am! And that’s the point!” Othor leaned forward, his grin widening. “That’s not just a bad joke—it’s an invitation. When I tell Kee or Zala something like that, it’s my way of saying, ‘Hey, I’m not the gruff steward today. I’m the uncle who’s ready to laugh with you.’ It’s a signal, Kas. They need those signals.”

Kas tilted her head, considering his words. “I… I never thought about it like that. But i am not a wordly person like you, I cant bring these silly tales to life.”

“It's therapeutic too, to put words to your problems. Here’s another one—watch,” Othor said, holding up a finger for dramatic effect. “‘What do you call a noodle that isn't really a noodle just pretending?’”

Kas sighed, realizing she was being compared to a noodle now. “I don’t know, what?”

“An impasta!” Othor delivered the punchline with gusto, leaning back triumphantly at his cleverness and her twisted face.

Kas tried to resist, but a snort escaped her lips. She covered her mouth, her antennae twitching in amusement.

“See?” Othor said, pointing at her. “Even you can’t help it. Imagine how much it means to the kids. A joke is more than a joke—it’s a message. It tells them they’re safe, they can laugh, and that no matter how strict life might seem, there’s always room for joy.”

Kas nodded slowly, her expression softening. “Maybe I do need to loosen up. Let them see me as more than just ‘the second mate.’”

Othor raised his mug in a mock toast. “To fun-guys and impastas.”

Kas laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re already a great parent,” Othor said gently. “You just need to remind yourself that sometimes, being a leader means showing the way to laughter.”

Kas looked at him with a grateful expression, beginning to understand where she could possibly fit into this crazy role of parenting.

"I promise I won't Spore-get what you told me."

She somehow knew to be as deadly serious as possible as she said it, and was rewarded with rich genuine laughter.

-End-

 

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