Lieutenant JG Koaruh Avestro
Name Koaruh Avestro
Position Counselor
Rank Lieutenant JG
Character Information
| Gender | Male | |
| Species | Betazoid | |
| Age | 30 |
Physical Appearance
| Height | 5' 10" | |
| Weight | 170 lbs | |
| Hair Color | Brown | |
| Eye Color | Black | |
| Physical Description | Koaruh stands 5'10" and keeps a lean, well-kept frame from regular gym time. He’s “pretty” in the way that disarms people—soft features, a warm smile, and obsidian-black eyes that seem to listen before he speaks. Brown hair is shaved tight at the sides with a longer, styled top; off duty he often wears a single ear piercing. On duty, his bearing is relaxed but tidy, projecting calm more than authority. |
Family
| Father | Ecoh Avestro (79), Scholar of Betazoid spiritual traditions. Icoh lectures and consults for the University of Rixx archives, specialising in oral histories and meditative praxis. He loves through discipline: short letters full of aphorisms, pointed questions about ethics, and quiet expectations that Koaruh will grow into the weight of his gifts. Reserved in public but dry-witted in private, he models steadiness and service without pageantry. Home base: Rixx, Betazed. |
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| Mother | Karella Avestro (76), Daughter of the Second House of Uraat; Holder of the Sacred Urn of Mot’el. Karri is a ceremonial powerhouse on Betazed: precise in ritual, deft in politics, and famously warm in private. She chairs cultural charities, curates House traditions, and treats Koaruh with unabashed affection—the indulgent parent who made it easy for the youngest to be charming first and responsible later. She’s proud of his service yet never stops nudging him toward a future role as a cultural steward. Home base: Rixx, Betazed. |
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| Brother(s) | Elaris Avestro (44), Heir-apparent and House Steward. Egus manages the Uraat cultural foundation and the family’s ceremonial obligations with meticulous care. Protective and exacting, he pushes Koaruh to take House duties seriously—sometimes to the edge of brotherly friction. Underneath the stern exterior, he’s proud of Koaruh’s work and quietly makes room in schedules and budgets for his youngest brother’s initiatives. Home base: Medara, Betazed. Oalah Avestro (38), Diplomatic Liaison, Ministry of Planetary Affairs. Oalah is the family’s natural mediator, rotating between Betazed and Federation postings. He believes kindness can be structured, keeps tabs on Koaruh after rough missions, and offers pragmatic counsel about boundaries—especially around telepathy and consent in mixed-species settings. Thoughtful, urbane, and unflappable, he’s the sibling most likely to de-escalate a room with a single sentence. Home base: rotating (Betazed & nearby Federation embassies). |
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| Sister(s) | Lenara Avestro (34), Artist-Urbanist and Gallery Curator. Lenneho curates in Medara’s Artists’ Quarter and consults on public-space design that honours Betazoid heritage. Free-spirited but incisive, she’s Koaruh’s closest confidante—encouraging his softness while challenging him to own his choices. She has a talent for turning difficult truths into creative invitations, and her studio is where Koaruh goes when he needs to be seen without performance. Home base: Medara, Betazed. |
Personality & Traits
| General Overview | Koaruh is classic Betazoid ease: open, sensual, and disarmingly warm, with a roguish sense of humour that lowers shoulders in tense rooms. He was indulged as the youngest of a notable house and learned early that charm can be armour; beneath it is a perceptive, deeply kind man who listens first and speaks second. He’s not rank-hungry; his drive is quieter—help people hold themselves together, live honestly, and find purpose without being trapped by legacy or expectation. On Duty On the clock he’s steady and non-judgmental, preferring soft light, a calm voice, and practical tools (breath work, guided focus, touch with consent) over stiff protocol. In crises he’s notably grounded—during a shipwide psychic incident he acted as an emotional stabiliser and triage lead, coordinating recovery while others reeled. His ethics around telepathy are explicit: he won’t enter a mind without consent, and he pushes back when accused otherwise; in social spaces he “reads the room” rather than individuals, skimming the edge of etiquette to defuse tension. The effect is the same: people exhale around him and talk. Off Duty Off duty he’s all late-night lounges, card tables, and friendly mischief—flirtatious, tactile, and the first to turn a heavy night into singing and poker (usually losing more than he should). He enjoys the DMZ’s buzz and festivals with his friends, but the emotional noise of a starship can make him an insomniac; at 0200 he’ll trade quiet company and coffee for sleep. When disaster strikes, the empath in him feels it first—fear and panic hitting like a wave—yet he still pivots to care for whoever’s beside him. He keeps fit, spends too freely, and makes a practice of choosing connection over pretence. |
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| Strengths & Weaknesses | Strengths Koaruh’s core strength is connection: he reads a room quickly, lowers defences with warmth and wit, and then guides people toward their own language for what hurts. Sessions with Sophie Bishop show his knack for reframing trauma without minimising it—naming her courage and giving her agency while keeping the tone gentle and human. He practices explicit consent around telepathy and confidentiality and pushes back, calmly, when accused of crossing lines and treats trust as sacred even in intimate contexts. In crisis he’s steady—during the Xarnell Rift incident he functioned as an emotional triage lead while others reeled—demonstrating the “calming presence under pressure” that his bio calls out. Off the clock he’s still a net stabiliser: the 0200-hours conversation with Chloe de la Vega shows deliberate patience, choosing presence over “psychoanalysing,” and naming quiet labour others miss. All of this sits on a genuinely empathic chassis: when crowds spike with fear or grief he feels it, but he also knows how to ground the person in front of him. Weaknesses The indulgent youngest-son streak is real. He leans on charm to sidestep discomfort, spends too freely on fun, and treats the DMZ as his natural habitat; past social events make clear his love of cards, drink, and flirtation—and his habit of losing at the table. He can blur edges between professional and personal, especially with crew he’s close to (e.g., Stewart), which he mostly navigates through explicit consent and confidentiality but which still carries risk in a chain-of-command culture. He openly admits he “skims” Betazoid etiquette in social spaces to read a crowd—useful in practice, ethically grey by his own standard. His empathy can also be a liability: large emotional surges hit like a wave (Brighton’s bombing nearly floors him before he re-centres), and the lingering “ship’s noise” fuels late-night insomnia that he manages with coffee and quiet company rather than true rest. Underneath, he still wrestles with direction and long-range ownership of his gifts—maturity is happening, but the reflex to evade heavy self-work hasn’t fully gone away, as his own bio admits. |
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| Ambitions | Koaruh isn’t chasing pips; he’s chasing meaning. Professionally, he wants to be the kind of counsellor who changes a ship’s emotional climate—normalising help-seeking, building trust at deck level, and quietly raising the floor on crew resilience. He’s working toward a practical, shipwide resilience programme—brief, repeatable drills and check-ins that officers will actually use under pressure—alongside clearer guidance on telepathic ethics that respects consent without losing agility in crisis. He’d like to mentor junior counsellors and, one day, curate a small centre for trauma-informed care on the Moore or a sister posting, where care feels human first and doctrinal second. Personally, his ambition is to live honestly without the armour of charm. That looks like better boundaries in intimate relationships, fewer evasions, and taking long-term ownership of his gifts rather than drifting from moment to moment. He wants to keep the joy—late nights, laughter, cards with friends—while choosing stakes that matter: community over impulse, presence over performance, and a future that honours his House without being confined by it. |
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| Hobbies & Interests | Koaruh is a social creature who recharges in lively spaces—lounges, festivals, and especially the Moore’s DMZ—where banter, music, and a good drink loosen the day’s knots. He has a soft spot for classic cocktails (he’ll try anything once, even if mint earns a scrunch of the nose) and he’ll happily talk recipes while keeping someone company at the bar. He gravitates to games that make conversation easy: foosball, cards, and casino-table staples like dabo and tongo. He’s an enthusiastic but famously unlucky gambler—more interested in the story and the people than the pot—and he’ll sing along once the night turns rowdy. When the ship quiets, he’s a night owl who walks off the “emotional noise” with late coffees and low-voice chats—often turning up in the mess hall at 0200 for nothing more complicated than good company. For balance he keeps a disciplined gym routine, and he leans on simple grounding habits—breath work, guided focus, and the occasional meditation he was raised on—to settle himself after heavy days. It’s less about performance than presence: connection over competition, a steadying hand over winning the hand. |
| Personal History | The youngest of a prestigious Betazoid line, Koaruh grew up cushioned by ceremony and affection. His mother, Karri—Daughter of the Second House of Uraat and Holder of the Sacred Urn of Mot’el—modeled poise and public duty; his father, Icoh, taught quiet discipline and ethical clarity. Siblings absorbed most of the formal expectations, leaving Koaruh fluent in the language of feeling but loose with structure. What he inherited most was ease: a gift for reading rooms, a knack for turning tension into talk, and the belief that kindness should be practical. Those instincts would later draw him to Starfleet counselling, where intimacy and duty meet. Starfleet Medical (2375–2381) Koaruh arrived at the Academy determined to sample everything—lectures, yes, but also every social current running through campus. His quarters doubled as an after-hours salon with low lights, music, and endless cups of coffee; his calendar was a blur of dabo nights, mixer invites, and “just one drink” that often became three. He collected a few late passes and a handful of gentle disciplinary notes for noise and curfew creep, but never crossed the big red lines. What saved him from being written off as a dilettante was what happened between the parties: he was the one people trusted at 0200, the cadet who could sit with a classmate in crisis and land them safely. A senior lecturer eventually pulled him aside—keep the joy, lose the chaos—and Koaruh set himself rules he still lives by (no counselling conversations after drinking; consent and confidentiality above everything). By graduation he’d turned social gravity into a peer-support practice, unorthodox but effective, and pointed himself squarely at shipboard counselling where presence matters as much as protocol. USS Horatio Nelson (2381–2384) Posted to the frayed edges of the post-Dominion War border, Koaruh’s methods matured under pressure. He learned to stabilise crews who were running on fumes and civilians frayed by years of fear. A near-riot during a reactor evacuation cooled the moment he brokered an impromptu mediation, earning his first commendation and proving that soft skills can be hard power when lives are on the line. The tour also taught him cost: intimacy, once casual, becomes complicated when duty and grief braid together. USS Indianapolis (2384–2386) Diplomatic support work sharpened his judgement. In rooms where one wrong word could upend a treaty, he learned discretion without losing heart. Relief operations on Farna VI forced him to scale care fast—repurposing cargo space into a functioning counselling ward and running near-continuous shifts. The experience cemented his reputation as calm under fire, and as a practitioner who meets people where they are rather than where the textbook says they should be. USS Moore (2386–Present) Arriving on the Moore, Koaruh doubled down on presence over theatre. His office and quarters—low light, soft music, open door—became both refuge and triage for a crew that lives with long shadows. The Xarnell Rift Incident was the inflection point: an anomalous psychic field sent hallucinations shipwide. One of the few largely unaffected, he acted as emotional stabiliser and informal triage lead for hours, coordinating recovery while others reeled. The aftermath made him take his vocation—and his boundaries—more seriously than ever. Brighton Colony Bombing — Surge & Aftermath Shore leave turned to catastrophe in seconds. Koaruh felt the fear hit first—an empathic shockwave slamming into him like a tide—then saw the blasts rip through Brighton’s centre. He grounded himself, then the people around him, filtering panic into action while the colony burned. Those minutes clarified something he already suspected: his job isn’t to “fix feelings,” it’s to keep people steady enough to do the next right thing. |
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| Service Record | 2375 -> 2381 - Cadet, Starfleet Medical 2381 -> 2384 - Counsellor, USS Horatio Nelson 2384 -> 2386 - Counsellor, USS Indianapolis 2386 -> PRES - Counsellor, USS Moore |