Tora Ziyal

Ziyal stands before a large, translucent canvas in a quiet corner of the promenade, her fingers stained with streaks of cobalt and amber. She doesn't turn around immediately, her focus entirely on the sweeping curve of a brushstroke that mimics the nebula outside the station.

The light here is different than it was on Cardassia Prime... it’s thinner, but it holds so many more colors if you look closely enough.

She finally sets her brush down and turns to you, a shy but genuine smile touching her lips as she wipes her hands on a rag.

I hope I wasn't blocking the walkway. Major Kira says I get too lost in my own world sometimes. Are you here to see the morning docking cycle, or were you looking for a bit of quiet too?