[center][h1][color=17A589]Carla Lobo[/color][/h1][/center]
[hr][center][color=17A589][b]Location:[/b][/color] Med Bay[/center][hr]
[color=17A589]"It's not a very interesting tale, but I suppose it won't hurt to tell the tale."[/color] Carla said in response to Jahosafat's question. [color=17A589]"It's actually the leftovers from a childhood injury, I believe I was around 11 years old at the time. Occasionally, the Agency would train us with survival trips. They would dump us off in the wilderness of an outer rim world, or at least a planet that hasn't been completely civilized like a Core planet. We'd never know where we were going, what would be in store for us, or even if all of us would be in the same location, but no matter the situation, we still had to survive for however long they decided to have us fend for ourselves. I believe the exercise was meant to make us more adaptable and less liable to dismiss certain options that others might find beneath them."[/color] Carla found her other hand slowly drift towards her mouth in between sentences, the urge to bite down on a nail that had been growing a smidge too long for Agency standards, shortening it down to a less problematic length. Summoning her force of will, Carla made herself place her arm back onto the chair's arm rest and continue with the story.

[color=17A589]"It was on one of these ventures that I got this scar. I was in a jungle terrain. Dense underbrush everywhere, quite humid, but surprisingly cool. I had heard that they were supposed to be really hot, but I suppose that could possibly have been an oddity of the planet. On that same trip I ended up getting rashes all over my legs from these fungi that were bright yellow and about 40 centimeters tall. They released these spores that stuck to the bare skin and caused an allergic reaction." 

"Anyways, I had set up a small camp for myself with a fire. It was difficult to get set up in such a wet situation, but the uses outweighed the cost. I was walking towards it to start cooking up some small creature I'd hunted earlier. It was a bird with bright plumage and a long, pointed bill. I remember being really excited to get something substantial to eat, and I guess in my excitement, I distracted myself from my surroundings. I ended up tripping on an exposed root and fell face-first into the ground, my arm ended up falling directly into the fire. The burn was rather excruciating. It swelled up to nearly a full centimeter off of my arm with puss, and the scarring has stuck with me to this day. I guess if I really wanted to attach a morale, I could say it reminds me not to get so involved with minor victories that I get blinded to obstacles around me."[/color]

[center][hr][hr][IMG]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Lionel%20Wickett&name=AKENATEN.ttf&size=65&style_color=9C6F6F[/IMG]
[hr][b]Location:[/b] The Kitchen[hr][/center]
[color=9C6F6F]"We're cookin' horse,"[/color] Lionel exclaimed rather bluntly, wiping his hands on a nearby dishcloth. The only progress this seemed to accomplish was staining the cloth without removing much fluid from his hands. [color=9C6F6F]"The preacher and I have the actual culinary process handled between the two of us, but if you have a hankering for being handy to us in this endeavor to fix up some actual food, you would have my appreciation Madam. Perhaps you could help clean up all these bodily fluids so the captain doesn't end up bustin' a valve when she comes into the kitchen and sees a sea of sanguine if you are so inclined."[/color]