sixthweyoun

[sixthweyoun]

The offer surprised her, though it really shouldn't have. He was always doing little things like that, making sure she took regular breaks and cared for her own needs. It had stopped being jarring a long time ago, but still came as a pleasant surprise when it happened.

Mostly, the surprise came from how good she was at ignoring her own needs until they were pointed out to her. Many a night had been spent with Vanath enthralled by some interesting new frontier of research, only to realize— at Dr. Bashir's prompting— that it was well past the time when she usually tried to get to bed. This wasn't an exception. The offer of a meal made her stomach growl. Well, that's humiliating, she thought.

"That'd be nice," she said, closing the simulation and standing. "Founder Odo has expressed concerns about how little I socialize outside of work." She never thought any Founder would express that concern, but he was full of surprises. "And you're right, fresh eyes would be helpful. Any longer, and I'd have started weighing the pros and cons of letting my next iteration have a go of it."

She instantly cringed, hoping that that joke wasn't too dark. She'd been trying to insert more humor into her interactions with others, to mixed results— honestly, she just wasn't sure what kalantai even found funny. "I'm fine," she reassured. "Food sounds great."

[[ @sixthweyoun (Vanath) requested a starter

It had been a long day. A whole outbreak that was only getting worse. But he'd been kicked out of sickbay by his own staff, because everyone has to eat and sleep sometime. And so he'd ended up in the medical labs instead. "Hi," he greeted. "Thought I'd check in."

#jsbashirmd #to heal what is broken / dr. bashir #vanath

[sixthweyoun]

Vanath hadn't had a moment to breathe since the day began. Partially, that was her own fault— she didn't have any obedience compulsions towards her current supervisor, not like she would have if she were serving one of her Gods, but that didn't stop her from being a workaholic. And besides. It was important work.

When Bashir walked in, she was bent over a console, watching a simulation of how the pathogen she'd isolated affected the cardiovascular system of a Cardassian vole. She'd have preferred to use real voles, since there were an abundance of them on the station, but unfortunately, the Federation had regulations on live animal experimentation that the Dominion did not. Oh, well. This was good enough.

"Making progress," she answered. "Slow progress, but progress. It definitely jumped from the voles to the human population, probably after some poor human was dumb enough to get themself bitten by one. Now, I'm just trying to figure out how it works." At least it's not a biological weapon, she thought. I'd be the first one to get blamed if it was. "How are things on your end?"

[[ @sixthweyoun (Vanath) requested a starter

It had been a long day. A whole outbreak that was only getting worse. But he'd been kicked out of sickbay by his own staff, because everyone has to eat and sleep sometime. And so he'd ended up in the medical labs instead. "Hi," he greeted. "Thought I'd check in."

#jsbashirmd #to heal what is broken / dr. bashir #vanath

[sixthweyoun]

@constable

In order to keep whumpee safe, caretaker has to claim that whumpee belongs to them and no one else can touch them.

#this is the most Odo & Weyoun coded prompt I've ever seen

[sixthweyoun]

Rivan chittered in grateful surprise and moved closer as his Beloved Founder reached for him. He instantly felt better at the feeling of their impossibly soft touch, but the problem wasn't with him. The problem was with Weyoun. "It isn't Founder Odo's presence that one is requesting, even if Weyoun would benefit greatly from his awaited return." He bowed his head a tiny bit further, eyes flicking upward to gauge the reaction of the one he served. "Evidence suggests that Weyoun is having difficulty adjusting to the lack of personal attention and investment in his service. One would implore the Founder to accept the responsibility of guiding Weyoun's steps even temporarily, until his own Beloved Founder returns from his mission..."

He fell quiet, instantly sensing that it may have been too much for a servant, even a Blessed Attendant, to ask. "It would be a great mercy. One for which both this servant and Weyoun would be eternally thankful."

// Vaguely semi plotted starter for @constable (Guardian)

Founder Odo had departed some weeks ago, and the rhythm of life on the ship had changed considerably since then.

Weyoun had probably taken it the hardest. Vanath, responsible and watchful as always, had spent a week making sure he wasn't going to self-terminate, with only minimal breaks for meals and sleep. A Blessed Attendant bond was hard to break. His mood, circadian rhythm, appetite, and ability to focus had all been severely reduced during that time, and although Vanath had dutifully and compassionately dealt with the worst symptoms through therapeutic reconditioning, he still felt like a shadow of his former self without Odo present.

Rivan, now at the beginning of his second iteration and a Blessed Attendant to the beloved Sage he served, had observed his former Field Mentor closely. It was Weyoun who had taught him what it meant to be an Attendant— the sacred responsibility of being both companion and servant, the boundless faith that transcended and superseded mere obedience. When he was upset or afraid, Weyoun had soothed him. When he'd had night terrors, a problem to which his first iteration was unfortunately prone, Weyoun had been the one to sit with him and hold his hand and reassure him that he was completely safe.

This was very clearly not the Weyoun he knew. This was a shambling corpse that happened to kind of look and sound like Weyoun, but possessed none of the same light behind his eyes. Sure, he performed his duties well, but there was very little true love or devotion behind the action. He seemed to only have two emotions: apathy, and fear. And if he was going to help his mentor at all, Rivan needed some kind of divine intervention.

He prostrated himself before the Founder, silently hoping that the added deference would serve to get their attention and drive home just how much their guidance in this matter was needed.

"One would beg audience, Founder, if it is permitted."

#constable #of unyielding and distant gods / guardian founder #rivan

[sixthweyoun]

"It's..." He took a breath, knowing that his worry for Weyoun was already starting to displease the one he served. He had never had to fear punishment from the one he served, but the mere suggestion of having caused displeasure was more than enough to fill him with regret.

Then it all came out at once. "One has been watching Weyoun's performance, Founder. One understands that the Founder considers it gratifying to see him returning to health, but..." He paused to remind himself that there was nothing to be afraid of. Although many Founders were dismissive of the internal lives of Vorta, they'd never been dismissive, just occasionally oblivious. "This servant is concerned that he may not feel as safe as he needs to feel in order to make a full recovery."

// Vaguely semi plotted starter for @constable (Guardian)

Founder Odo had departed some weeks ago, and the rhythm of life on the ship had changed considerably since then.

Weyoun had probably taken it the hardest. Vanath, responsible and watchful as always, had spent a week making sure he wasn't going to self-terminate, with only minimal breaks for meals and sleep. A Blessed Attendant bond was hard to break. His mood, circadian rhythm, appetite, and ability to focus had all been severely reduced during that time, and although Vanath had dutifully and compassionately dealt with the worst symptoms through therapeutic reconditioning, he still felt like a shadow of his former self without Odo present.

Rivan, now at the beginning of his second iteration and a Blessed Attendant to the beloved Sage he served, had observed his former Field Mentor closely. It was Weyoun who had taught him what it meant to be an Attendant— the sacred responsibility of being both companion and servant, the boundless faith that transcended and superseded mere obedience. When he was upset or afraid, Weyoun had soothed him. When he'd had night terrors, a problem to which his first iteration was unfortunately prone, Weyoun had been the one to sit with him and hold his hand and reassure him that he was completely safe.

This was very clearly not the Weyoun he knew. This was a shambling corpse that happened to kind of look and sound like Weyoun, but possessed none of the same light behind his eyes. Sure, he performed his duties well, but there was very little true love or devotion behind the action. He seemed to only have two emotions: apathy, and fear. And if he was going to help his mentor at all, Rivan needed some kind of divine intervention.

He prostrated himself before the Founder, silently hoping that the added deference would serve to get their attention and drive home just how much their guidance in this matter was needed.

"One would beg audience, Founder, if it is permitted."

#constable #of unyielding and distant gods / guardian founder #rivan

[sixthweyoun]

// Vaguely semi plotted starter for @constable (Guardian)

Founder Odo had departed some weeks ago, and the rhythm of life on the ship had changed considerably since then.

Weyoun had probably taken it the hardest. Vanath, responsible and watchful as always, had spent a week making sure he wasn't going to self-terminate, with only minimal breaks for meals and sleep. A Blessed Attendant bond was hard to break. His mood, circadian rhythm, appetite, and ability to focus had all been severely reduced during that time, and although Vanath had dutifully and compassionately dealt with the worst symptoms through therapeutic reconditioning, he still felt like a shadow of his former self without Odo present.

Rivan, now at the beginning of his second iteration and a Blessed Attendant to the beloved Sage he served, had observed his former Field Mentor closely. It was Weyoun who had taught him what it meant to be an Attendant— the sacred responsibility of being both companion and servant, the boundless faith that transcended and superseded mere obedience. When he was upset or afraid, Weyoun had soothed him. When he'd had night terrors, a problem to which his first iteration was unfortunately prone, Weyoun had been the one to sit with him and hold his hand and reassure him that he was completely safe.

This was very clearly not the Weyoun he knew. This was a shambling corpse that happened to kind of look and sound like Weyoun, but possessed none of the same light behind his eyes. Sure, he performed his duties well, but there was very little true love or devotion behind the action. He seemed to only have two emotions: apathy, and fear. And if he was going to help his mentor at all, Rivan needed some kind of divine intervention.

He prostrated himself before the Founder, silently hoping that the added deference would serve to get their attention and drive home just how much their guidance in this matter was needed.

"One would beg audience, Founder, if it is permitted."

#constable #of unyielding and distant gods / guardian founder #rivan

[sixthweyoun]

Even if he'd wanted to, Weyoun didn't have the strength to moderate how deeply his connection with Odo went. It was a needed escape, and he surrendered to it fully— perhaps he would simply drift off like this, in the embrace of the one who had given him so much and shown him more love and care than he ever believed he deserved. To be a violet pinprick against an expanse of gold felt freeing. His body no longer fazed him.

I'll be back, Weyoun reassured. It's like falling asleep in this body and waking up again in the next one.

Even with Weyoun's efforts, Odo had never gotten used to the Vorta cloning process. In a strange way, he was grateful for that. He'd spent the majority of his lives being treated as a useful tool, with each activation undertaken as casually as replacing a part. To Odo, every version of him was unique and to be treasured.

"Founder, you have given me everything I could ever want and more," he whispered, conviction evident in his voice. "I am blessed to be beside you. All I ask is that you allow me to stay beside you forevermore."

starter for @sixthweyoun because eir playlist gave me too many feelings again

Weyoun was reaching the end of his life. Odo could see this--had been seeing this for many months now--and yet he could do absolutely nothing to stop it. Vanath could no longer find anything specific to heal, because Weyoun's body had just... gotten old. The helplessness Odo felt in response to this was indescribable.

Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingers through Weyoun's faded hair. He'd always been physically affectionate with his attendant, but even so, he'd been doing that especially often lately, just to feel him, still alive, still here.

For now.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked, fussing again in a reversal of their usual roles that neither of them particularly cared for.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo

[sixthweyoun]

It had been a good life. And a long one, longer than Vorta were usually allowed to live— even knowing that Odo had intended to provide for him throughout his natural life, he'd still somehow expected to be terminated long before this point. But it was almost over.

Vorta didn't fear death, as a rule. They were allowed, by the mercy of the Founders, to keep more self-preservation instinct than the Jem'Hadar, as their duties were often too complex to be passed down to a successor before a reasonable stopping point was reached (even if that successor was just their own next iteration). But they also knew that, most of the time, death was a temporary condition.

"I think some chills are to be expected," he faintly said, pressing his head weakly into the Founder's hand. Even now, his instinct was to seek comfort. "But... Yes. I think I'm as warm as I can be." He managed a subtle smile, warmed beyond what his body was capable of sustaining by Odo and Vanath's continued care. He knew that Odo hated being powerless— all Founders did— but Odo wasn't powerless, not really. He'd given Weyoun a long life, and a happy one. They'd gone from Founder and Attendant to something more like family. And Vanath had been the first member of his species he'd truly bonded with after Kilana. Both of them had given him so much. And would continue to, when he was brought back.

"Is everything— is everything arranged?" he asked, pausing to catch his breath. Vorta were prone to shortness of breath at the best of times— usually, this problem could be managed with a rescue inhaler— but he'd found that in old age, it'd started getting much harder to mitigate. "Because one wouldn't want the Founder to go too long without an Attendant." The Ceremonial dialect was spoken with a teasing, familiar inflection that conveyed affection moreso than formality. "Can't have that."

starter for @sixthweyoun because eir playlist gave me too many feelings again

Weyoun was reaching the end of his life. Odo could see this--had been seeing this for many months now--and yet he could do absolutely nothing to stop it. Vanath could no longer find anything specific to heal, because Weyoun's body had just... gotten old. The helplessness Odo felt in response to this was indescribable.

Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingers through Weyoun's faded hair. He'd always been physically affectionate with his attendant, but even so, he'd been doing that especially often lately, just to feel him, still alive, still here.

For now.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked, fussing again in a reversal of their usual roles that neither of them particularly cared for.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo #this is heartbreaking

[sixthweyoun]

Whumpee who bites. Literally. Whumper gets too close? Gets bitten. Caretaker tries to touch them as a way to comfort them? Gets bitten. Whumpee just being a feral little creature and biting anyone who they deem a threat. Especially if they’re trying to make themself look big and threatening. This could also work really well for a nonhuman whumpee

#weyoun would do this #not to odo. he wouldn't bite a god #he might do it to someone solid tho

[sixthweyoun]

"It's not that simple, I only have so many hours of sleep allotted per ni—" Weyoun tried to explain, but found himself trailing off. He had so little time. So little time before his beloved Voice resumed solid form and required his services once again, and then... how much longer before their next nighttime visit? Months more, at least.

Yes, it was best not to waste that time on explanations. This was how he could serve— this was how he could do a great deal more than just serve. When he imagined the shared existence the Founders experienced in their Link... it was something like this. To waste a second of it would be to profane the sacred.

"It would be a privilege, Weiyaita."

@sixthweyoun sent:

[Dreams] - our muses occasionally share dreams. It happens randomly, only once every couple of months (or years).

It didn’t happen often. Generally, Odo wouldn't admit to dreaming at all, as it wasn't something Founders did--certainly not in the way Solids did. But occasionally, with no clear reason, Odo retired to his bucket to regenerate and found himself here, where he shared a sort of mental space with Weyoun, a solid of a species Odo had never encountered before.

"Hello," he greeted roughly. Then, because he could do so without fear here, he sprouted wings and flew across the distance between them to land less than a meter away. "It's been an unusually short time since we last met." His body language made it clear that he was thrilled by the lack of wait.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo #weyoun 3

[sixthweyoun]

Weyoun, having grown more confident in his interactions with Odo, returned the embrace with more strength than he possessed in the waking world. "That would... That would be nice," he said, knowing it was an understatement of his true feelings. The more he got to see Odo— the more he got to stand in the presence of one of his Gods without fear— the happier he would be.

He received the deep sadness as naturally as if it were his own. "Are you alright, Weiyaita? How can this—" he paused, then remembered there was no need for strict adherence to protocol here, not in this place where anything less than complete honesty was close to impossible. "How can I help you?"

@sixthweyoun sent:

[Dreams] - our muses occasionally share dreams. It happens randomly, only once every couple of months (or years).

It didn’t happen often. Generally, Odo wouldn't admit to dreaming at all, as it wasn't something Founders did--certainly not in the way Solids did. But occasionally, with no clear reason, Odo retired to his bucket to regenerate and found himself here, where he shared a sort of mental space with Weyoun, a solid of a species Odo had never encountered before.

"Hello," he greeted roughly. Then, because he could do so without fear here, he sprouted wings and flew across the distance between them to land less than a meter away. "It's been an unusually short time since we last met." His body language made it clear that he was thrilled by the lack of wait.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo #weyoun 3

[sixthweyoun]

Weyoun, too, did not usually dream. Not the way other species did. The Founders had ways of suppressing them in their servants. Imperfect ways, but ways, all the same. Dreams, on the rare occasion that they happened, had to be reported and analyzed for signs of defectiveness— Weyoun's dreams never contained any, of course, he was a well-made and well-trained Attendant from the best facility on Kurill, but the process was still embarrassing.

But these new dreams— Kilana had reported them, and so had a few of the other Vorta he knew. He'd heard of more than one Vorta reporting these dreams and immediately being reassigned to another Founder's personal staff. Would that happen to him? Would he be transferred away from his beloved Voice? He didn't know if he wanted that. She was strict and uncompromising, yes, but so was every Founder.

That didn't matter, though. He could deal with that upon waking. At the moment, he was in the strange white space between his mind and the mind of this strange youngling who seemed to have grown up far too alone and far too quickly.

"Weiyaita*," he said solemnly, punctuating the traditional title with a reverent bow, though it was remarkably devoid of the kind of fearful tension Weyoun had exhibited upon their first few meetings. "It's always a joy to see you here."

*Weiyaita - the word for Founder in most Dominion dialects. Literally translates to Person of the Origin of All.

@sixthweyoun sent:

[Dreams] - our muses occasionally share dreams. It happens randomly, only once every couple of months (or years).

It didn’t happen often. Generally, Odo wouldn't admit to dreaming at all, as it wasn't something Founders did--certainly not in the way Solids did. But occasionally, with no clear reason, Odo retired to his bucket to regenerate and found himself here, where he shared a sort of mental space with Weyoun, a solid of a species Odo had never encountered before.

"Hello," he greeted roughly. Then, because he could do so without fear here, he sprouted wings and flew across the distance between them to land less than a meter away. "It's been an unusually short time since we last met." His body language made it clear that he was thrilled by the lack of wait.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo #weyoun 3

[sixthweyoun]

In the time it took Weyoun to settle completely into the Founder's protective embrace, he caught himself drifting off to sleep. It had been an exhausting couple of days— he didn't really get much sleep on the station, and everything before and since had just depleted him. Had he really not taken a second to stop? Well, of course not— what Vorta stopped, except for in the pause between the death of one iteration and activation of the next?

But... this was nice. To have a few isolated moments in time to rest in the arms of his God, to be safe and protected...

This is horribly undignified, he thought. But it failed to rise to the surface, and he remained still and quiet save for the gentle purring which accompanied the rise and fall of his chest.

@constable sent a ⏪

His beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

It was shortly after the reconditioning of Kilana-2, an event which had also served to reinforce to the third of the Weyoun line what his own purpose ought to be— his worth was in his service to the Founders, and foremost to the one who had honored him with the position of Blessed Attendant. And she had taken a special interest in...

In something. She hadn't actually told him, and instead simply claimed that he would know what he was sent to retrieve when he saw it. But it was no matter. He would let his faith guide him. After all, his beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

So here he was. On the station referred to as Deep Space 9 by its inhabitants, trying not to think about how much more orderly and efficient things were on a Dominion starbase.

(like the Dominion starbase where he'd served with Kilana, before—)

Keep your mind on your assignment, Weyoun. This is your chance to prove yourself.

And then he saw who he was looking for. It was so obvious. The tall, sort of beige colored entity patrolling the corridor ahead of him was a Founder. He adjusted his pace to catch up, instinctively expecting some form of punishment for exceeding two paces' distance behind, but none came. After a while, he had caught up, and was attempting (with some success) to maintain the standard distance.

How does one get the attention of a god? Especially one who seems to be so unaware of their own divinity that they're working security on a station like this? Touching him seemed impolite. Speaking without being first spoken to seemed even more impolite. So instead he simply did what he would do with the one he served, and waited patiently for the Founder's acknowledgement.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo #Weyoun 3

[sixthweyoun]

As he became used to this new, gentle contact, his heartbeat slowed, and his breaths became more even. He even, by some autonomous reflex that he previously didn't know existed, began purring softly, a low and quiet sound that matched the hum of the small ship's engine almost exactly.

He allowed a series of disorganized impressions to float to the surface of his conscious mind, conveying that Vorta were once telepathic, but their telepathy was disciplined in service to the Founders at the time of the Uplift; that whatever Vorta telepathy was, it worked on a different mechanism than what the Founders could experience amongst themselves; that Odo would be more likely to find the kind of connection he craved among his own people; and, finally, that telepathic contact was, indeed, a good and vital feeling that he was glad he got to experience. Communicating this way was... nice, he found. It freed him from the need to adhere strictly to the Dominion's protocols, and as a result, he found himself much more easily speaking his mind. But somehow, it didn't feel crass or disrespectful to do so.

It almost felt like equality.

"it is, Founder. It's helping much more than one can express," he said, with complete and total honesty.

@constable sent a ⏪

His beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

It was shortly after the reconditioning of Kilana-2, an event which had also served to reinforce to the third of the Weyoun line what his own purpose ought to be— his worth was in his service to the Founders, and foremost to the one who had honored him with the position of Blessed Attendant. And she had taken a special interest in...

In something. She hadn't actually told him, and instead simply claimed that he would know what he was sent to retrieve when he saw it. But it was no matter. He would let his faith guide him. After all, his beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

So here he was. On the station referred to as Deep Space 9 by its inhabitants, trying not to think about how much more orderly and efficient things were on a Dominion starbase.

(like the Dominion starbase where he'd served with Kilana, before—)

Keep your mind on your assignment, Weyoun. This is your chance to prove yourself.

And then he saw who he was looking for. It was so obvious. The tall, sort of beige colored entity patrolling the corridor ahead of him was a Founder. He adjusted his pace to catch up, instinctively expecting some form of punishment for exceeding two paces' distance behind, but none came. After a while, he had caught up, and was attempting (with some success) to maintain the standard distance.

How does one get the attention of a god? Especially one who seems to be so unaware of their own divinity that they're working security on a station like this? Touching him seemed impolite. Speaking without being first spoken to seemed even more impolite. So instead he simply did what he would do with the one he served, and waited patiently for the Founder's acknowledgement.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo #weyoun 3

[sixthweyoun]

Weyoun climbed into Odo's arms, nestling easily against him. He'd never have thought to ask for this from his beloved Voice. He'd never have even been allowed to entertain that line of thought. This level of comfort felt forbidden. It felt like sacrilege. He never wanted it to stop.

Little by little, he let down his defenses, allowing a telepathic connection that he hoped would be easier on his comparatively fragile solid mind than the last one had been. Because, truth be told, he was equally starved for connection— a connection which felt as natural to him as breathing, but had been intentionally hidden from not just him but all Vorta. And that thought scared him.

@constable sent a ⏪

His beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

It was shortly after the reconditioning of Kilana-2, an event which had also served to reinforce to the third of the Weyoun line what his own purpose ought to be— his worth was in his service to the Founders, and foremost to the one who had honored him with the position of Blessed Attendant. And she had taken a special interest in...

In something. She hadn't actually told him, and instead simply claimed that he would know what he was sent to retrieve when he saw it. But it was no matter. He would let his faith guide him. After all, his beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

So here he was. On the station referred to as Deep Space 9 by its inhabitants, trying not to think about how much more orderly and efficient things were on a Dominion starbase.

(like the Dominion starbase where he'd served with Kilana, before—)

Keep your mind on your assignment, Weyoun. This is your chance to prove yourself.

And then he saw who he was looking for. It was so obvious. The tall, sort of beige colored entity patrolling the corridor ahead of him was a Founder. He adjusted his pace to catch up, instinctively expecting some form of punishment for exceeding two paces' distance behind, but none came. After a while, he had caught up, and was attempting (with some success) to maintain the standard distance.

How does one get the attention of a god? Especially one who seems to be so unaware of their own divinity that they're working security on a station like this? Touching him seemed impolite. Speaking without being first spoken to seemed even more impolite. So instead he simply did what he would do with the one he served, and waited patiently for the Founder's acknowledgement.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo #weyoun 3 #telepathic collective vorta headcanon my beloved

[sixthweyoun]

The question came as a deep, genuine shock. This Founder was... perhaps the kindest that any of Weyoun's Gods had been to him. He lost all his eloquence for a moment in the process of trying to give an answer, and so he remained silent for another long, awkward period.

There was something Odo could do, but it felt strange to ask it— after all, touch and telepathic contact had been the very thing Odo had just used, inadvertently, to harm him. But he needed it, just... perhaps more gently, this time.

"May this servant..." he paused, wringing his hands, "...rest in the Founder's arms for a while?"

@constable sent a ⏪

His beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

It was shortly after the reconditioning of Kilana-2, an event which had also served to reinforce to the third of the Weyoun line what his own purpose ought to be— his worth was in his service to the Founders, and foremost to the one who had honored him with the position of Blessed Attendant. And she had taken a special interest in...

In something. She hadn't actually told him, and instead simply claimed that he would know what he was sent to retrieve when he saw it. But it was no matter. He would let his faith guide him. After all, his beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

So here he was. On the station referred to as Deep Space 9 by its inhabitants, trying not to think about how much more orderly and efficient things were on a Dominion starbase.

(like the Dominion starbase where he'd served with Kilana, before—)

Keep your mind on your assignment, Weyoun. This is your chance to prove yourself.

And then he saw who he was looking for. It was so obvious. The tall, sort of beige colored entity patrolling the corridor ahead of him was a Founder. He adjusted his pace to catch up, instinctively expecting some form of punishment for exceeding two paces' distance behind, but none came. After a while, he had caught up, and was attempting (with some success) to maintain the standard distance.

How does one get the attention of a god? Especially one who seems to be so unaware of their own divinity that they're working security on a station like this? Touching him seemed impolite. Speaking without being first spoken to seemed even more impolite. So instead he simply did what he would do with the one he served, and waited patiently for the Founder's acknowledgement.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo #weyoun 3

[sixthweyoun]

"Apologies," Weyoun said, stopping himself midway through another deep bow. "It's protocol, but if the Founder prefers, one can adjust."

He paused at the question. When had any of his Gods ever asked him so bluntly about his comfort? The more common thought process, in his experience, was apathy.

After a long silence, he chose to risk honesty.

"If it pleases the Founder to know, this servant is not practiced in sustaining a connection of that depth or intensity for so long. One humbly asks forgiveness," he implored, a pleading look in his downcast eyes.

@constable sent a ⏪

His beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

It was shortly after the reconditioning of Kilana-2, an event which had also served to reinforce to the third of the Weyoun line what his own purpose ought to be— his worth was in his service to the Founders, and foremost to the one who had honored him with the position of Blessed Attendant. And she had taken a special interest in...

In something. She hadn't actually told him, and instead simply claimed that he would know what he was sent to retrieve when he saw it. But it was no matter. He would let his faith guide him. After all, his beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.

So here he was. On the station referred to as Deep Space 9 by its inhabitants, trying not to think about how much more orderly and efficient things were on a Dominion starbase.

(like the Dominion starbase where he'd served with Kilana, before—)

Keep your mind on your assignment, Weyoun. This is your chance to prove yourself.

And then he saw who he was looking for. It was so obvious. The tall, sort of beige colored entity patrolling the corridor ahead of him was a Founder. He adjusted his pace to catch up, instinctively expecting some form of punishment for exceeding two paces' distance behind, but none came. After a while, he had caught up, and was attempting (with some success) to maintain the standard distance.

How does one get the attention of a god? Especially one who seems to be so unaware of their own divinity that they're working security on a station like this? Touching him seemed impolite. Speaking without being first spoken to seemed even more impolite. So instead he simply did what he would do with the one he served, and waited patiently for the Founder's acknowledgement.

#constable #tell me that i haven't failed / odo #weyoun 3