Alora DeVeau

Oh man, this had me cracking up!

I don't know why, but I found this extremely funny. :-D

Heh, not sure I did it right, but I found a dictionary. I think I'm missing a verb...oh well, we'll pretend she did it properly. *G* Yes, I SPY!

I laughed when I first read this. Then I saw the video, and I went AWWWWWWW...

HAHAHA! I LOVED He-Man! Also She-Ra!

Congratulations!!!

Data's daughter dies despite all he tries to do to keep her alive.

Honestly, I think Alora's more like Tigger then either of those women are. ;-)

MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

oh, they are exceptionally rare! Of course, they always seem at odds with themselves. ;-)

She HAS had training after all! :-p

Where's Data when you need him?

((Bridge, USS Ronin-A, Menthar Anchorage, Universe #14762)) ::The shock had been palpable. The normally ragged and unruly crew of the USS Ronin-A had been quiet and businesslike on the journey away from what was now a boringly normal patch of space. Shockingly normal. No USS Invicta, no Legate Prianna and her fleet of Cardassian warships, just the Ronin. The tension in the air had been palpable until they received the signal from the first of the hidden asteroid sensors. Either they were a common way of eavesdropping on space traffic, or they were still in their own universe.:: ::It meant that they had not managed to progress through to the far more peaceful universe of the Invicta, but neither had they been destroyed nor ended up somewhere else entirely. Reversing their previous course heading for want of an alternative direction, they had found the Menthar Anchorage not only intact, but populated. The mixture of confusion, shock, joy and relief had been palpable, and the Ronin had all but emptied once the docking doors had opened.:: ::Not entirely however. The ship was in far better shape than she had been in months, but there was still the odd engineer working on her overworked warp core. And, the statue-still figure of her Captain, sitting alone on the bridge. The crew knew to stay out of his way when he was in a pensive mood.:: ::Well, most of the crew. Raissa having remained on the ship, walked to stand by his chair. With him seated it was the only time she could look down at him.:: Moonsong (alt): So it didn’t work. ::There was a moment's silence before he answered.:: Saveron (alt): You are correct; we were unable to traverse the phenomenon. ::He acknowledged in a tone that gave nothing away.:: However, many questions remain. Moonsong (alt): Such as? Saveron (alt): Where is Legate Prianna and her fleet? How is it that those aboard the Invicta are returned to the Anchorage? ::Well, most of them. He suspected that if Roshanara Shandres was ever presented with the opportunity to kill him, she would take it.:: Moonsong (alt): Maybe because that is where they belonged. Saveron (alt): One might almost begin to suspect the intervention of something more directed that mere probability. ::Something conscious and casually malevolent.:: Moonsong (alt): Maybe all that quantum babble your pet scientists like mean that we are where we are supposed to be, Sav. ::pause:: And maybe you were wrong to try and force the issue. ::He looked at her sidelong, narrow grey eyes watching her face, pondering the true meaning behind her words.:: Saveron (alt): Perhaps, if you believe in fate and predestination. ::He said at last. Such was illogical, but he knew that people had to believe in something.:: Moonsong (alt): No… I believe this is where we belong… as awful as it sometimes is.. this universe is our home… ::It wasn’t a belief that Saveron would normally have entertained, but the fact remained that they had not been able to pass into the Invicta’s universe. None of them, with the exception of Tasnim Shandres, who by all accounts did not exist on that side.:: ::But if they did belong there then to what end? To die messily like those who had gone before them? Yet they had not, when other ships had been lost. What was the point of all their trials?:: Saveron (alt): So it would appear. ::He allowed at last.:: ::It was unlike the Vulcan to give an inch, but if anyone could push him it was Raissa.:: Moonsong (alt): And by the way, Alora really is back. Saveron (alt): No doubt the crew will be pleased. ::He said blandly, then paused before continuing.:: They took her death harder than anticipated. The appearance of her alternate was greeted as that of a ghost. ::He spoke slowly, as though his mind and attention were elsewhere.:: Moonsong (alt): They are pleased… She was missed. ::He looked across the bridge at the viewscreen, currently showing the starscape afforded by one of the station’s sensors. After a moment he rose to his feet, walked a few steps closer, then turned and walked back to stand in front of his chair. A diversionary behaviour. He looked down at her, saviour of so many lives and perhaps the only member of the crew who truly got under his skin.:: Saveron (alt): This situation presented ideas and viewpoints none of us would have considered before now. ::He acknowledged.:: Moonsong (alt): Also true…::She took a deep breath as she looked up at him. Her eyes searching his face. Searching for something she had seen before. Something she had caught a glimpse of in the eyes of his alternate.:: Moonsong (alt): You know I met them… the other you and me... Saveron(alt): Indeed? ::His curiosity was piqued in spite of himself.:: And did they represent all that was good and wholesome in their universe? ::He asked acerbically.:: Moonsong (alt): That’s rude. ::She frowned slightly as her eyes searched his.:: Moonsong (alt): He was a skilled doctor...Calm, peaceful, aware… like you used to be. And she… ::she suppressed a shudder:: Something happened to her. She’s a T6 telepath. She caught out Mei’s listening device in a moment. Among other things... ::That was… unexpected. Raissa’s empathic abilities had always been useful, but the prospect of a T6 - as sensitive as himself but without the ability to not sense. Useful for the crew, damaging for the individual. Had it been anyone else, he might have been intrigued by the possibilities.:: ::As for himself, he’d left behind medicine when he’d left his old life on Vulcan. Care and empathy had done nothing to forestall the implosion of all that he held dear, long before the Dominion had arrived.:: Saveron(alt): A useful talent, but difficult to live with. ::He said at last.:: And if I had remained a doctor on Vulcan I would be dead, along with my kin. ::And perhaps all those aboard this ship.:: ::He looked into the middle distance, still considering their previous line of conversation.:: Saveron(alt): Yet...If this is our home, ::he began, a little less sharply,:: and we have a purpose here, what is it Ris? I cannot accept that it is to die messily as the Federation’s last gasp. I will not accept it. ::As he had not, since fate had brought them to this accursed patch of space.:: ::Raissa’s mouth trembled slightly with suppressed emotion.:: Moonsong: (alt): I don’t know… Alora is always telling me not to give up hope… ::She finally looked away from him. She tried to focus on what he considered important.:: Moonsong (alt): But with the Cardassians gone in the rift… Then maybe…. Saveron(alt): Maybe we have the advantage? ::It was what she expected him to say, he knew.:: One notes that the Legate’s fleet does not appear to have survived the closing of the rift. ::Which meant that he spied an opportunity. Without Prianna’s ships and leadership this section of space was vulnerable. They could take the Piktar system, claim a significant tactical advantage as well as the military resources there. They could bring in other resistance fighters and their ships, carve out a base of operations and really begin to take back some of the local space. Perhaps they could even push towards the wormhole…:: ::He looked down at Raissa, who still wasn’t meeting his gaze. She looked… tired. Sad. … like you used to be... Were those words wistful?:: ::In a gesture rare these days he set his hands on her shoulders.:: Saveron (alt): Or maybe we have room to breath. ::He said quietly, long fingers moving to her chin, lifting her face to look at him, a whisper of thought with that touch.:: oO Perhaps we all deserve a chance to rest; a chance to remember what we’re fighting for. Oo ::For there were times, when things were most grim, that he had not admitted anything beyond the fight for survival.:: :: Her eyes rose to meet his, startled. They had been fighting and running for so long it had been a long time since he had touched her in any way. And to feel his thoughts… Warm instead of the cold wall he kept up that allowed him to focus and keep them all alive against all odds. She swallowed as she trembled under his touch. Her voice was no more than a whisper.:: Moonsong (alt): They gave us a chance, Sav… To breathe… to remember… ::She was right. So often she was right, and he could not admit it. The Romulan understood; show no weakness. This woman was his. She faced down his anger and got through his guard in a way no one else ever had, the voice of reason to his fierce determination. And she was right.:: Saveron (alt): oO That they did. Oo ::He leaned forward, head lowered, and their lips met; at first a brief touch and then more fervent, as he pulled her into his arms. How could he have forgotten?:: END Turn your face Towards the sun Let the shadows fall behind you Don’t look back Just carry on And the shadows will never find you -Rihanna A JP by Dr. Raissa Moonsong Chief Medical Officer USS Ronin-A G239107RM0 and Captain Saveron Commanding Officer USS Ronin-A R238802S10

Seriously, I really wanted to ROFL. LITERALLY!

This just really tickled me.

Is the deadline December 6th or December 8th?

((Island Beach, The Next Day)) ::Raissa went for a walk up the beach. She put a little distance between herself and the crew, but she did make sure she stayed within sight. There were several jetties of stone the stuck out into the surf. She took a seat on the stone, trailing her feet in the water. The advantage of this shore leave was that the uniforms were put away and they stayed away. The wind blew her dark hair around, but she didn’t try to tame it.:: Core: Good morning, Counsellor. ::She looked away from her contemplation of the waves to see the chief engineer. She frowned slightly.:: Moonsong: Good morning….Commander…. ::Tristam looked down, giving a small chuckle.:: Core: I’m sorry, should I mention your promotion or stick to first names? Congratulations, by the way. Moonsong: ::she raised an eyebrow at him.:: And you think my first name is Counselor? Core: Well I’m not sure what you prefer! I’ve never used your first name before. Plus, apparently some cultures prefer you ask them first. ::He paused.:: Would you prefer I called you “Raissa” during shore leave? ::She considered giving him a little grief about it. Sometimes to some people what she did and who she was seemed interchangeable. They were on shore leave and she was clearly out of uniform. And as he had just pointed out, he could have just asked. With a small sigh, she decided not to.:: Moonsong: I would prefer it when I’m off duty. And the few friends I have sometimes call me Ris. Core: Okay. Well, *Ris*, that wasn’t awfully difficult. Moonsong: As much as it always is. ::pause.:: So what can I do for you? Core: I . . . have an apology to make. ::Her eyes widened in surprise. This was a first... from anybody.:: Moonsong: What do you think you have to apologize for? Core: Well, last time we spoke properly, I could hardly talk. You may have mentioned that it might be due to my telepathy and I shut you down. And since that conversation, my verbal skills have improved marginally, and my telepathy has returned. And I am sorry. You were right. ::Though in hindsight, what was he supposed to believe? At that point, his telepathy returning was a distant dream - something unachievable, unlikely to happen due to the damage done. But she was right. He was wrong. Oh, he’d been so wrong.:: ::She had the urge to laugh. She suppressed that urge viciously. She also had the urge to beat the point on why she was right upside his head. She resisted that urge too. Mainly because she was still picking up the crew’s thoughts and emotions which sometimes colored her own. She was not really that impulsive. But dang it, she was a professional after all.:: Moonsong: Thank you… So having your abilities back… how does that make you feel? Core: Uh . . . I feel as though we are on shore leave, and that you shouldn’t have to worry about my mental health right now. ::He took a seat next to her.:: Core: I’m honestly more curious about how you’re doing? ::Her eyes widened in clear amazement.:: Moonsong: I admit, you’ve surprised me. Core:::frowning:: How so? ::She paused a moment, considering how to answer. Finally she shrugged.:: Moonsong: Most people don’t seek me out for my scintillating personally. They want someone to talk to. Core:::raising an eyebrow:: I was under the impression that communication between two people was considered “talking”. Moonsong: The difference is people wanting to talk to the counselor. Not talk with me. Core: That’s implying you’re basically a brick wall to them. No, that’s not what I was trying to achieve here. ::He laughed.:: It’s shore leave - this shouldn’t be a time for work. And I know counselling sessions are important no matter what the crew’s situation, but right now is your time off. And I also remember saying I’d help you with your telepathy. Moonsong: ::chuckles:: Let me respond in order. ::pause:: People come to me for help with their problems. And shore leave after a stressful mission is why I’m usually so busy. ::sighs:: I do love what I do… but sometimes…. And my telepathy is why I’m way out here for the moment. ::Tristam cringed. He’d disturbed her quiet time.:: Core: Do you want me to leave? Moonsong: No, you’re one of the easier people to be around. I can read you, but I have to work at it. So you’re fairly quiet minded to be around. Core: Don’t work at it. Because then I actually feel it and it gets a bit awkward. I know your status changed and your power’s impressive, but I don’t really want either of ending up in front of Saveron explaining what happened. Saveron’s great and all, but I think a “why did you ever think that was a good idea” coming from him wouldn’t be at all pleasant. Moonsong: ::She put a hand to her mouth as she giggled.:: Tristam, we’ve had the conversation before. I have no desire to delve into your mind. At most I’ll get a flash of a directed surface thoughts and that’s all. I don’t need to go any further. It’s probably full of technobabble that’ll make my ears bleed. Core: ~~ Not all the time. ~~ ::That one sentence marked the first time he’d actually projected telepathy to someone else, despite being somewhat of an accident. The Rodulan cringed again, remembering just after it’d occurred that the Federation weren’t necessarily all in for telepathic communication whenever and wherever.:: Core: I’m so sorry. That was uncalled for - that was my fault. ::Raissa frowned slightly. She leaned close to him, face to face and then crossed her eyes at him.:: Moonsong: By my ancestors… there really is a hamster on a wheel in there… ::He tried desperately to form a response to that - he truly did. But he instead found himself inhibited.:: Core: . . . I don’t know what that is . . . Moonsong: ::she chuckled and leaned back.:: A small furry terran rodent kept as a pet. The put a little wheel in the cage so it can run very fast in circles. ::She smiled.:: Moonsong: And I didn’t mind the thought from you. It was nice to have something directed toward me instead of the usual random blasts of thoughts and emotions. ::pause.:: Sometimes… for all I’m sensing… I’m invisible. Core: It’s a learning process. I can’t offer much advice for it, either, but . . . I don’t know. Keep up your relationships, is what my brother would say I guess. ::She looked out toward the water, the smile fading from her lips:: Moonsong; You’ve told me that before. Saveron has said the same thing… ::pause.:: My… relationships can be counted on one hand with fingers left over. Core: I . . . don’t know what to say to that without sounding insensitive. But I *will* say that I’m glad I joined the hand. Moonsong: ::smiles:: I’m now up to three. One more and I’ll be back to four. ::the smile fades slightly.:: Or not, considering my situation. Core: Situation? You mean your telepathy? Moonsong: ::nods:: It’s why Carter and I broke up before he left. ::Tristam sighed.:: Core: Well then, Greyson was incredibly short minded now wasn’t he? And if telepathy was the reason you broke up, then a relationship with him wasn’t viable in the first place. What an incredibly childish decision. ::Raissa was surprised she had to suppress her amusement. It was a nice feeling to have someone jump to her defense so quickly.:: Moonsong: Tristam… I broke up with him… My telepathy put him sickbay. ::Tristam found himself frowning again. Perhaps he’d been unaware just how grand her telepathy was - with the Community, she’d been . . . far too great for him to comprehend. For Rodulans, though telepathy was dangerous whilst trying to read each other, is was . . . he couldn’t explain it. Basotile was created with telepathy - the foundation for most Rodulan relationships. Telepathy was a peaceful thing, despite the danger. His time with Starfleet had him seeing it from multiple perspectives - it was educational, to say the least, and though some ideals challenged his own a few times, he’d always returned to his original belief.:: Core: That’s . . . unexpected. ::He was comparing Moonsong’s relationship with Carter to his own with Roshanara - though Artist knows why. The situations between them had nothing in common. Though his telepathy came back at the most awkward of times for he and Roshanara, he’d never felt to be a danger to her. Reading her mind (while he refrains from doing it all the time) was just something they’d been doing since he first met her - she seemed comfortable with it, though admittedly, he’d never truly asked her. Their relationship hadn’t hindered because of his ability to read minds. :: Moonsong: I’m a freak, Tristam. Saveron sequenced my DNA to figure out what I am. Human telepaths are rare. A T6 is… unheard of. I had to relearn everything. I have to be extremely careful when touching a non-telepath. I can never lose control. Ever. Carter… couldn’t… wouldn’t understand the danger. Nor would he understand that I would always have to hold a part of myself away from him. ::It was at that point he realized that he’d been comparing the wrong people.:: Core: You and Roshanara are strangely alike, you know that? Moonsong: I don’t see how.., ::And the next challenge was explaining that without delving into Roshanara’s situation too much. He wasn’t sure if Raissa was aware of “empathic metamorph” status she held . . . hmm.:: Core: Not in terms of telepathy, but . . . in terms of situation. You should talk to her. I don’t know if it’d help, but . . . I think you should talk to her. You are *incredibly* similar. ::Tristam had had to chase after answers from Roshanara before he finally, literally, cornered her and demanded them. Empathic metamorph. Dependant on those around her, she’d “become unable to live with the stimulus of those around her. Unable to lead, unable to serve in Starfleet. Unable to function in daily life” - her words, not his. It was only until she’d realized that she couldn’t conform to Tristam’s emotional state did things actually turn for the positive - as a Rodulan, no telepath or empath could get a glimpse of his mind (not including Raissa - her circumstances were unique, to say the least). Tristam was quite literally one of the very small minority of people of whom couldn’t manipulate Roshanara Rahman. ::Nowadays, even those whom *weren’t* part of the small minority Tristam was included in could successfully manipulate her. She was building up her ability to avoid it - and was making astonishing progress. This is what happens when she no longer resigns herself to the possibility of a “doomed future”. Now look at her - back to her confident and stronger self and working as the Invicta’s First Officer.:: Core: And for the record, you’re not a freak. *I’m* a T6, remember? And before you go on stating the differences between us, know that I had to go through this when I had my Academy years. Rodul, as a place for telepaths, it’s silent. Well, maybe not silent, but there’s way less noise than what there is on the Invicta at the moment. Going from that to the Academy . . . add homesickness to the mix, I practically lived in the medical centre for months. ::Raissa had opened her mouth a couple times, but nothing had come out during his speech. She did have to concede he did make several valid points. She knew about Rahman’s situation due to the reports, especially when she was made FO. She held her hands up in a gesture of surrender:: Moonsong: All right.. you have a few points… I don’t agree with all of them. I do have to have a chat with your girlfriend, but not about this. Core: Oh no . . . about what? What’d I say!? Just because she’s First Officer . . . Moonsong: ::chuckles:: I have to talk to her about parenthood. Core: Ah. The dear Tasmin. I take it back - talk to her as much as you’d like. Moonsong: I’ve already talked to Ki. Core: I don’t mean to pry, but how’d that go? Suddenly being father to a teenaged daughter of a different version of himself now displaced in what we consider to be the true universe must be a lot to take in. Moonsong: It went as I expected. ::soft sigh:: He has no family left. Tasnim is the closest thing he has to that at the moment. While technically she was left with Roshanara, if she is shipped back to Earth to live with her ‘grandparents’, don’t be surprised if Ki requests a transfer. Core: I wouldn’t be. While they aren’t technically her parents, they do worry about her - there’s no one better than Shandres to keep an eye on her should she end up on Earth. But I don’t think Roshanara’s quite ready to make that decision yet. I’d be awfully surprised if she does, considering all she’s done to try and settle Tasmin in. Moonsong: There are other children on the ship, so that isn’t an excuse. Ki and Ms. Rahman need to sit down and actually talk. They barely speak to each other. Core: She’s barely spoken to *me* about it, let alone Ki. But I’ll do my best to try and raise it with her. If she does have Tasmin go to Earth, it won’t be because of the danger on the Invicta, it’ll be something to do with Tasmin’s mother. I’m not sure of the circumstances of her being onboard, but . . . I don’t know. She hasn’t told me much. And that’s fine - I’m okay with that, it’s not really any of my business, but . . . ::He sighed.:: I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out when you do. ::He laughed once.:: Moonsong: Since it affects your relationship, I’d say it is your business. It’s not something you can separate and put into a little box on the shelf. ::pause.:: I’m counseling again, aren’t I? Core: If it makes you feel any better, that’s partially my fault again. Moonsong: Not really. I’m the one who brought it up. ::shrugs:: Mostly because I was curious. Core: Considering we’d just finished talking about your own relationships, I think it was well within reason. But like I said, she hasn’t said much about Tasmin’s situation to me. Moonsong: The plus side of being a counselor… I can legitimately be nosy. Core: It’s always a good perk to have. Moonsong: So…. what do you plan to do for shore leave? Core: Hmm . . . ::He gave a small huff.:: I’m still settling down. Roshanara wants to take a shuttle and do a quick fly over the moon - I’ll tag along with her, take the opportunity to try and get a conversation going. Other than that? Swim. This sand and ridiculous air quality is making my knee and shoulder ache. ::After having his knee replaced after the accident on the Pioneer, he’d had the occasional spike of trouble with his left leg. Nothing other than what Medical had expected, of course, but enough to be rather annoying when walking on sand for extended periods of time. It’d be fine, if he’d kept up with physiotherapy. The same could be said for his shoulder - after the incident aboard the Mercury, that’d had to undergo some interesting surgery, as well as having had it strapped to him for he-didn’t-remember-how-long, and now forgetting to continue on with whatever Skyfire’s exercises were wasn’t necessarily helping with the strength in that arm.:: Moonsong: Well…. you could always try for that romantic moment that doesn’t require conversation… Core: Aha, yeah, uh . . . thanks for the idea. It honestly depends on how good a mood she’s in. ::He laughed.:: Moonsong: Take a picnic on your jaunt. You’re both on shore leave. Core: Aye aye, Commander. Moonsong: I’m never going to get used to that. ========= LtCmdr Raissa Moonsong Chief of Counseling USS Invicta G239107RM0 & LtCmdr Tristam Core Chief Engineer USS Invicta

LOL!!!! At least he's learned when to keep his mouth shut. In this case anyway. ;-)

Congrats y'all!

I don't know why, but this tickled me and brought the funniest image to mind.

Why is it that the only time Alora turns heads is when she is either A: Possessed by a parasitic and telepathic non corporeal entity. B: Vomiting all of her insides in the corridors of the ship. or C: Thrown into a mirror universe where she's supposed to be dead so people think they're seeing a ghost?

I just loved that analogy.

Great job and congratulations! :-D

“Now that I’ve tried to talk to you and make you understand All you have to do is close your eyes and just reach out your hand” ~ Extreme, More Than Words ((Holodeck 2, USS Invicta)) ::It had been several days since they had ventured onto the holodeck in their last, rather unsuccessful venture into a holonovel. Previously their explorations of their respective homeworlds had been found mutually agreeable so, after allowing a certain amount of time, Saveron had suggested that they venture out once again in that vein. He had once promised to show her the native habitat of the flowering succulents that he kept in his quarters.:: ::The sky was a warm apricot, the air a mild 47’C and below them to the north stretched a view of the An’ahyaes valley. This time the arch had let them out into the foothills at the southern end of the valley, in the shadow of some old stone ruins that they had last seen from a distance.:: Saveron: Ut-kashi tower. ::He gestured towards the ruins with one black-clad arm. He was wearing a casual long-sleeved tunic, close-fitting trews and knee-high boots, obviously unperturbed by the heat. On a sling over his shoulder he carried a large flask.:: Saveron: If you do not object, I intend that we should walk slowly down to a ravine where the sfhai t’aihghuimh grow. I have brought water supplies. DeVeau: That sounds great. What’s that? ::One hand lifted and flicked toward a particular building that rose from the ground, a silent sentinel to the ruins. Once indicated, she let it move to wipe a droplet of sweat that trickled down her neck. It was hot, but not unbearable. It was a dry heat which made it easier to withstand than one that was accompanied by humidity. But it was still hot. Alora was in more terran clothes, a tank top and shorts that allowed for freedom of movement but limited her clothing as much as possible without being indecent.:: ::The Vulcan looked up at the tower.:: Saveron: It was an ancient stronghold of my Clan, in the days when Nel Gathic clans warred amongst themselves and against others for the valley’s resources. ::He gestured to the valley floor immediately below.:: Here Valeohroehn won a battle, and lost a war. ::He had spoken of his ancestor before. The man was called ‘Valoren’ in alien history books.:: DeVeau: In what way? ::Alora was not completely ignorant of Vulcan history, but it hadn’t been a focus of any of her studies, so she was limited. She knew more than most Terrans, but this was still quite lacking in general.:: Saveron: He killed the leader of the Kor’hin Clan, triggering a reprisal attack from the man’s three half-siblings, who inherited joint leadership. His brother led the main assault whilst his sisters planned and executed an ingenious incursion through the hills here. In that battle much of the Ayein Clan was slaughtered, including Valoren. DeVeau: You said he was an ancestor? How many generations past was that? Saveron: Twenty-three generations. I am descended from him through his eldest son to his first bond-mate, Lohraedys. ::He glanced at the ruined tower again, before indicating a faint path into the hills and stepping out onto it.:: Saveron: I am curious as to your family’s history. DeVeau: My family? ::Alora didn’t have such fascinating history behind her family - not that she knew of. Her ancestry couldn’t be traced back twenty three generations. Well, maybe it could, but no one had done so.:: DeVeau: They don’t have quite the coloured past. My mother and father met in the United states, though my father was originally from France. They had five kids, including me and...well, my life growing up was pretty mundane, really. Saveron: As was mine. ::He replied evenly.:: I do not doubt that we could all find a famous ancestor, should be look back far enough. I consider Valoren’s son and my namesake to be a far better role-model; he brokered the peace that ended those hostilities. You mentioned your brothers; they are varied in their pursuits, are they not? DeVeau: Varied. What a good way to put it. Yes, very much so. My eldest brother, Alain, has kind of followed my father’s footsteps. He’s actually a vice president in the same company. Then there’s Adrien who...well, he does whatever he wants. ::Or whatever the hell he wanted, as Adrien had so eloquently put it, but she wasn’t about to say that to Saveron.:: DeVeau: Alexandre is a Medical Officer in Starfleet and Aimé is an artist. He’s starting to get noticed for his work too. ::There were a lot of A’s, but her parents had actually planned that.:: DeVeau: You’ve mentioned your own family a little. Will you tell me more about them? Saveron: Certainly. I am the third of four siblings. My elder brother Torenan is a teacher, specifically of adolescents, and primarily in History, though he also teaches Vulcan languages. He and his bond mate have five children and six grandchildren to date. Vanyeris my sister is an agricultural engineer like my father. ::Which was a fancy way of calling her a farmer.:: Saveron: She also has a family and lives not far from where we grew up. Her name has been inherited through our paternal line, as has my own. We have a cousin of the same name in Starfleet. ::And it too had a history.:: My younger sister Aleyra is a scientist and professor at Vulcanis University, which is where I studied Medicine. My parents are both local and both of the Ayein Clan. Unlike your own cosmopolitan ancestry, mine is confined predominantly to a single ethnic group. ::As they walked the land rose and became rockier, until they were walking between boulders of beige stone, fallen from the hills that rose gradually into cliffs on either side.:: DeVeau: But… ::Alora stopped herself. She’d been about to query about his former bond mate, but she hesitated. Perhaps that was a subject best left alone. She switched to a completely different topic.:: DeVeau: You’ve told me a little about your people and their history. Are they a small group compared to other clans? Saveron: They were for many cycles following that battle. That was, however, two thousand Terran years ago. The Ayein Clan is still smaller than some others, but we know this part of the valley like our own skin. It became our shelter and home until peace was negotiated. ::The Clan had for years thereafter waged a guerilla effort against those determined to drive them out, until finally peace had been negotiated.:: Saveron: That is, of course, now ancient history. Today the Clans live in peace and work cooperatively to tend the valley sustainably and supply food for much of Vulcan. My people have prospered through careful management of the valley’s resources. DeVeau: It’s hard to imagine the Vulcans as anything but peaceful. Granted, history says otherwise, but all I’ve experienced has been...well, Vulcans like you. Those who are peaceful. Logical. ::And often who stated they could not feel emotion, though Saveron hadn’t claimed it. He’d been an anomaly in that respect.:: Saveron: To know us as we were, look to the Romulans. ::He replied blandly.:: I am given to understand that Europe had a somewhat tumultuous past. France is part of that conglomerate, is it not? DeVeau: Oh gosh, yes. I mean, wars and wars, barbarians, raids, Celts and Anglo Saxons and...well, it’s pretty bloody in general. Pretty much history, until after World War III, is mostly just either what war was happening or how long til the next war. France was a part of Europe and while it wasn’t the only place to experience bloodshed, I suppose one might say it had more than its share. Saveron: Was that due to geographical considerations, resources or culture? ::He asked, genuinely interested.:: DeVeau: I would say all three. ::Alora shook her head, her ponytail flouncing about merrily with the motion.:: DeVeau: There were motivations behind every altercation. Well, isn’t there always? Sometimes it was political. Sometimes it was because one country had something another wanted. Sometimes it was just the culture of the peoples to be war like and take what they wanted, whether they needed it or not. Well, I guess in every situation, ‘want’ had a large role to play, no matter what the exact situation. One place had gold, the other fertile soil, still another rare resources. Saveron: And it was seen as easier to take than to negotiate or share, and better to have more than one’s neighbours. So we were once. ::And these hills and valleys had been stained green with blood because of it. That part of other cultures he understood all too well.:: DeVeau: That seems to be a very common theme, and not just among humans. ::Romulans, Klingons, Cardassians, even Vulcans. It was as if every species, humanoid or not, had some innermost desire for conquest in some form or fashion. Some had changed their ways, such as the Vulcans. Some...well, some still had work to do in that area. Even humans.:: Saveron: Given that we are all ultimately descended from the same seeded genetic stock, it is perhaps unsurprising that we have similar competitive and hierarchical tendencies. In evolutionary terms such conveyed an advantage on the individual, to the detriment of their peers. The advantage of intelligence is that we can learn to work cooperatively to the benefit of society as a whole. In many ways we are all still learning. ::He observed philosophically.:: ::Around them the cliffs rose higher until they were making their way through a small canyon along what might have once, thousands of years ago, been a river bed; before Vulcan’s climate shifted and the world became largely desert. In cracks in the stone the occasional small, succulent plant showed, though no evidence yet of the ones they had come in search of.:: DeVeau: Was there water here once? Saveron: Affirmative. It was long ago, before the climate changed. ::Of course, water had been present long ago, but she thought she recognised the markings of a particularly large body, the river bed that they traversed along. She paused to crouch down, her fingers digging into the soil as if it might answer some questions. It remained silent and she rose to clap her hand against her thigh. Hologram it might be, but it was real enough to the senses.:: DeVeau: Further on, you think? Saveron: That is correct. I have walked this path before, many times. DeVeau: And we’re going to see the flowers? It’s a place you enjoy? Saveron: I find the destination agreeable, meditative. ::He allowed.:: It is not conducive to vehicles. I… considered that you might also find it agreeable. DeVeau: Agreeable? You can say that you think I’ll like it. I don’t mind, really. ::But he was a Vulcan and probably never would.:: Saveron: It… is considered impolite in Vulcan culture to suggest that another might experience an emotional response. ::He explained carefully.:: I would not want you to construe negative connotations. ::He was being polite, and considerate, as his own culture saw it. He did not really know how else to be, and cross-cultural social interaction could be such a mine-field.:: ::Up ahead the view seemed to shortened as the valley they followed narrowed.:: DeVeau: Oh I would never construe negative connotations by your suggestion that I might experience an emotional response to something. Especially if it’s a positive emotional response. ::She paused a moment, then added.:: Though I do hope you won’t think I’m being impolite if I imply that you might feel an emotional response to something. It’s...I guess just the way we humans talk and think and what not. We’re not trying to be impolite or anything. Saveron: As I am aware. ::He assured her in his usual, mild tones.:: I have worked with Terrans for nine years now, and take no offence where none is intended. At the same time I choose to abide by my culture’s social etiquette where possible, even though to breach such would not be considered impolite by yourself. I would still consider it impolite. ::Which was perhaps honest if not entirely logical. The fact that he would consider such rude even if she didn’t meant that he chose not to do her that discourtesy.:: ::Alora’s lips quirked upward, amusement evident on her face, but she didn’t press the issue.:: DeVeau: So be it, but if you ever change your mind, I won’t take offense. ::A slight nod acknowledged her words.:: ::She turned her gaze forward as they traversed onward, eyes soaking in the sights of the foreign landscape.:: DeVeau: So how much further? Saveron: We are nearing the end of this canyon. ::Not much further and the reason for the foreshortened view became obvious; the ancient water course had turned through a very narrow channel in the rock, then would once have plunged down a cascading series of falls. Now there was only a tumble of dry boulders that fell in a steep slope about fifty metres into a much broader chasm that twisted and wound away from them, not the only rock fall to do so. As they looked down they could see more small plants clinging to the rock face, including one example of the sfhai t’aihghuimh they had come to find.:: ::It wasn’t that far of a drop, but it was enough to spur Alora back a couple of steps. She certainly couldn’t just jump down it. Doing so would be bad. Very bad. Fortunately, it was just a hologram and the safeties were engaged but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel a sense of trepidation and dizziness as she gazed downward.:: Saveron: We must climb down to reach our destination, if you do not object. Otherwise I can alter the program. ::Sometimes though the journey was part of the destination, and some things were worth the effort.:: DeVeau: I...guess not. ::This was going to be fun - and if she kept saying it she might just believe it. Alora might have asked Saveron to hold her hand except first, he was a Vulcan and she had a feeling he didn’t want to do that again and second, it was kind of hard to climb down rocky terrain with one hand.:: Saveron: Inform me if you reconsider. ::Slinging the water flask over his shoulder, Saveron grasped hand-holds in the rock wall and stepped down onto the first boulder. The long-limbed Vulcan had a distinct advantage in this type of activity.:: ::The boulders were not precipitous, if one slipped one would only land on the one below, but they were still a marked scramble and some were quite big. As they climbed down the air changed a little, the barest hint of a rise in humidity in the thin air starting to register.:: ::Alora gazed down upon the man who so easily made his way over the boulders. Her teeth worried her lower lip, but she crouched down, then carefully eased over the edge to the first set of holds. There was no way she was going to go as fast as he was. At least they weren’t any higher.:: ::As they descended Saveron kept a careful eye on Alora’s progress. In the thin air and high gravity he was in his element, his strength evolved to compensate for just such an environment; his companion had evolved for a very different world. He did not wish her to find the journey disagreeable.:: ::The path down the scree that they had taken had brought them to the top of a particularly large rock. The Vulcan was already hunting for a path along it’s side, using a smaller rock wedged beside it as a foot-hold. It would not be easy however.:: Saveron: Do you require assistance? DeVeau: No. No...I’m okay. For now. I’ll uh...scream or something if I need you. Loudly. I promise. Saveron: Exercise due caution. ::The safeties were engaged of course, but he would find it particularly disagreeable if Alora were to sustain an injury from their adventure.:: ::Alora continued to carefully pick her way down. At one point, however, her foot, though it originally caught onto a hold, slipped and she screeched as her hands clutched at the rock and dug painfully in an attempt to keep from taking the quick way down. The position she was in set her in between two boulders beneath - which meant if she dropped, she’d most likely drop all the way down to the bottom.:: DeVeau: Um…Sav...Sav….::Pant.:: SAV… ::Footfalls sounded on stone some distance below.:: Saveron: Let go. ::He said calmly.:: I will catch you. ::Let go? He wanted her to let go? She had to let go? It was a very long drop. Alora twisted her head to stare beneath her. It wasn’t as long as it had been when she started, but it was far enough. She swallowed. She had to let go. Let go. Let go. Dangit, let go! Finally, her fingers obeyed and she slid ungracefully downward.:: ::Braced on the rock below, long arms collected Alora as she slipped off the rock, holding her firmly against his chest as he took their collected weight and carefully maintained his stability. Like the atmosphere around them his own internal temperature was much higher than a Terran’s would have been, making his grasp particularly warm. He carefully set her down on the rock he was standing on.:: Saveron: My apologies. I should have chosen a different route down this slope. ::He hadn’t considered the issue of the large boulder until they were almost on it, an unforgivable oversight.:: Saveron: Are you injured? ::Hurt? No. Not hurt. Not physically anyway. If anything, she was embarrassed and the pink that had taken its opportunity to sweep across her cheeks was evident to that fact.:: DeVeau: Just bruised my pride. ::Her voice cracked and it was the first time she realised she’d not consumed much in the way of liquids.:: DeVeau: Um. Is this a bad time for some water? Please? Saveron: It is not. ::He unshipped the flask on its strap over his shoulder, offering it to her. While Alora drank Saveron considered the route down, calculating a path that involved as few large rocks as possible.:: Saveron: The remainder of the slope should prove easier. ::It was regrettable that he had brought Alora into that situation, which had not been his intention. He had simply wished to show her an agreeable memory from his own youth; much as she had before. It seemed that for each of them, their intentions did not translate particularly well. Cultural barriers.:: DeVeau: The worst part’s over, right? I guess this is a good way to face one’s fears, right? ::Grey eyes regarded her expressionlessly for a long moment.:: Saveron: Affirmative. ::Riiight.:: ::It wasn’t too much of a scramble before they stood on the sandy floor of what was now a very respectable ravine. Rock walls towered high above them, whilst the sandy floor was very smooth indeed. The rays of the late afternoon sun lanced a band of orange light onto the rock walls and floor.:: Saveron: The sfhai t’aihghuimh are best viewed further along. These ravines run east towards the Voroth sea, cut by ancient water courses. ::Not that any Terran would have dignified such shallow puddles with the name of ‘sea’.:: ::The ravine broadened a little and eventually they came to a place where the glimmer of shallow water was just visible in the distance and the walls were heavily covered in the small, brown plants, like sickly aloes. The Vulcan sun hung on the horizon, creating a sunset like Terran blood and bathing the canyon in red light.:: ::The Vulcan looked around for a moment, apparently satisfied, and perched on the edge of a random boulder that interrupted the flat sand, long legs stuck out in front of him at an angle, regarding the sunset..:: Saveron: This is the optimal location to view the eisgh t’Nyone. ::Which translated as the Breath of Nyone.:: ::Alora was not quite so confident as the Vulcan and any movements she made on the boulder were slower, quite a bit more careful. She eased down to sit beside him and drew her legs out to mimic his position.:: DeVeau: What is the eisgh t’Nyone? Saveron: You will observe momentarily. ::For a moment there was that light in his eyes that suggested suppressed amusement.:: ::Alora wrinkled her nose at the Vulcan, but made no verbal protest. If it was something that he thought she’d enjoy, she wouldn’t truly attempt to ruin it. She made no other comment, asked no other questions, simply remained where she was and enjoyed the beauty. From time to time, one hand would lift so she could smear sweat across her brow, or take a swig of water.:: ::As the sun dipped lower the air began to stir. Throughout the day there had been a gentle breeze moving past them, towards the east from land to sea, but now that began to reverse and draw air west up the ravine from the sea.:: ::The air from the sea was marginally cooler and more humid and as the sun at last dipped below the horizon and the colour of the sunset changed from Terran blood to Klingon, the temperature in that narrow chasm began to drop. The air was thin and as the temperature dropped so did it’s ability to hold the moisture it had absorbed from the sea; seemingly out of nowhere a mist began to form, softening shapes and giving the ravine a ghostly quality.:: ::As the mist thickened there was movement on the rock walls. Even as they had in his quarters when he changed the environmental settings, the sfhai t’aihghuimh began to unfold long, translucent filaments from amongst their fleshy brown leaves, waving them in the misty air to absorb the water. Moments later tiny, snow-white flowers opened and filled the chasm with a heady perfume. Insects with tiny bodies but large, transparent wings like a dragonfly began to zip from flower to flower, their strange proportions a response to the high gravity and thin atmosphere. As they flew they made high-pitched trills, calling for mates.:: ::It was an eerie sight, the mist despite the heat gave the ravine an ethereal feel in the growing twilight, the gossamer plants and fairy-like insects like something out of an old legend. It was as if the world of Faerie had somehow found expression on this far-flung planet, complete with resident Elf sitting and watching the display dispassionately.:: ::He looked over at Alora.:: Saveron: This is the eisgh t’Nyone. Nyone’s Breath, or the Breath of the Sea. This mist is what gives life to Nel Gathic lands. ::He said quietly.:: This is what I wished to show you. DeVeau: Wow...just… ::Just what? Silence was all she could answer with, for the sight was spectral and magical at the same time. The delicate symphony of the insects joined in the hushed melody of the breeze while the tendrils that lapped at the moisture in the air danced to the tune. As she listened to their song, any tension that had built up within the young woman melted away. She shifted and leaned back on the stone behind her to watch with rapt attention.:: ::No words were spoken for some time as she silently reveled in the glorious display before her. Eventually, a soft sigh slipped from her lips as her hands lifted to press against her cheeks in wonder at the view, then fall back to their previous position.:: DeVeau: Can we stay here forever? Saveron: Negative. We can however return whenever you wish. ::From her words he could only deduce that she found the experience agreeable. It was a reaction that he found preferable. He slid down to lean his back against the rock, so that their faces were close to level and spoke in quieter tones.:: Saveron: I had considered it preferable that you would find the experience agreeable. ::And perhaps there had been some method in his insistence on bringing her the hard way. Grey eyes met green for a long moment.:: Saveron: I find it agreeable to see you… happy. ::He’d never lightly accused her of an emotion, but there was really no other way to describe it and she had given him permission. That she was so easy to read was, in a strange way, part of her appeal. He had wondered what she made of him, who was quite the opposite. For all her awkwardly expressed interest, she was alien and not easy for him to fathom. And though he could not express himself the way she did, he had done what he could to do so with his words and his actions. But amongst his people there was another way.:: ::Reaching out he offered her his hand, index and middle fingers extended, ring and little fingers folded back.:: ::For a moment the only thing that stirred was the wildlife that continued in its display while the two humanoids rest upon the boulder. Alora’s gaze dropped to stare intently at the gesture he made.:: ::There was hesitation, but not from a lack of desire, more from surprise. It was not long, just a hint, but then her own hand lifted, her own fingers curled inward, save two. Slowly, they joined with Saveron’s as green eyes lifted once more to find and meet grey.:: ::It was a shallow contact between minds unbound, moderated by the fact that only one was a telepath, but Saveron opened that contact so that it was very mutual. Two minds, just touching.:: ::His mind Alora had sensed once before, the stronghold that kept the emotional chaos inherent in his kind in check. But where others rejected all emotion he acknowledged those that were not disruptive to inner peace. Like friendship, like contentment, like a growing appreciation of and attraction to another person, another mind, now touching his own.:: ::It was more peaceful, the mental touch this time. It was more like a caress, the whisper of fingers against a cheek, a flutter of breath against one’s hair. Although his body was warm, his mind was cool, refreshing, like a forest where she lay resting beneath the canopy. As his innermost emotions, careful and controlled, trickled through, her own rose to the surface. Friendship, yes. Contentment, they matched his in all ways - even the attraction. Perhaps that was the one most hesitant, accompanied with an almost silent fear behind it.:: :: He had barely sensed Alora’s mind the last time they had touched, it had been a very one sided exchange. Now her thoughts rippled and danced before him, bright and vibrant as sunlight on flowing water, an environmental effect he hadn’t truly understood until he had left Vulcan. She reminded him of that new, alien experience. Her mind was very different to those of his own people, and fascinating in its difference, but he did not delve into her thoughts, he had not been invited. Rather he focused on what thoughts welled to the surface freely, of their own accord, one unexpected.:: Saveron: oO Do not fear me, or doubt me.Oo ::He told her silently, mind to mind. In his own thoughts there was no uncertainty, but he had a lifetime of experience in watching his own thoughts, accepting them as a part of himself. Rather he showed her how he felt, at peace with what might come, and let her react to that. Here he could say without words what he could not voice aloud.:: DeVeau: oO I do not fear you. Oo ::There was a ripple in his thoughts, the ghost of the words ‘you should’ seemed to hang there for the barest moment before disappearing. He didn’t try to hide it. Rather he let her see him as he was. Less disciplined than many of his kind certainly, but eminently comfortable with that. He wanted her to be comfortable with him. Yet he sensed a certain hesitancy, a faint worry, in her thoughts.:: Saveron: oO Then what do you fear? Oo ::She didn’t tell him. She showed him, in a sense. It was brief, a flash of images - two faces. The first was of a man he didn’t recognise. He was young, considered fair to gaze upon in the eyes of a young woman, though his mouth twisted into a sneer. The second was that of the Orion pirate, his own face formed into an intense glare, hatred flashing in his stony gaze. Then something followed, a different sort of fear, one that was unreadable at first, then formed into a third image - that of Alora, her arms stretched out toward Saveron, but him turning away from her in rejection.:: Saveron: oO No, no and no. Oo ::He told her gently.:: ::The triple negative was applied to each image in turn. She had opened to him, showed her the fears that she held and he negated and soothed each one in turn.:: ::He did nothing without careful thought, and his actions now were the same. He had planned this evening as he had acted before, the logical progression of recent actions. Her interest, that he had been slow to understand he had also been slow to internalise, yet when fully processed he found it was reciprocated, and he would never, ever, wish her harm. He was most definitely not her Orionese tormentor. Yes he was physicially strong, but he would never hurt her. Pacifism above all else. And the third? He did not know who the other man was, but he was not Saveron. The Vulcan was himself, and all that he was he set before her, if she wanted him.:: ::A slow hush of breath escaped and Alora shifted, drew closer to him, though she never broke physical contact. Her free hand rose, her fingers danced lightly, carefully across his cheek, a silken and brief caress before they fell away.:: DeVeau: oOWhat do you want?Oo ::Her caress was sweet, like water after weeks in the desert. There was a careful pause in his thoughts, an obvious reining in of an impulsive response, held back behind that wall of training.:: Saveron: oO You. But only what you would give. Time, company. Perhaps more eventually, if you wish. Oo ::There was then a touch of humour in his thoughts, as though he were laughing at himself. He showed Alora something then, one of his own scars. A flash of a childhood memory, another mental contact, an alien one. A young Vulcan girl, he and she both younger even than Saavok was now. That influence was long gone, but it had been chosen for him. He’d never had to choose before, never had a need to court someone. It was a new experience for him. There was there a measure of uncertainty. He didn’t really know how one should proceed, and the cultural barrier only made things more difficult.:: Saveron: oO Patience, and understanding. Oo ::There was a dry, self-deprecating tone to his thoughts.:: oO And you? What do you want? Oo ::His response seemed to set her at ease and she relaxed. Her cool fingers returned to touch his cheek, the caress lingering this time, tracing a gentle path over his warm skin.:: DeVeau: oOThe same.Oo ::He inclined his head slightly, proffering his cheek for her touch, eyes half-lidded. Through their mental contact it was obvious that he enjoyed the touch, even though it had a different effect on him, activating different neural nodes as her fingers drifted across them. Hands and faces, key in Vulcan telepathy.:: Saveron: oO Then that would seem to be a good premise upon which to proceed. Oo ::He reached up to trail a finger across Alora’s cheek, touch warm and feather-light, sensing her own perception of that touch through their linked minds.:: ::The effect of his touch was different than hers. It brought on a distinct wave of pleasure and spurred her to draw even closer to him. Though the night was cooler than the day, the heat was still intense. His own body was warm to her touch, but despite it she didn’t care. There was pleasure in his closeness as well.:: DeVeau: oO I would have to say that’s a very logical conclusion.Oo ::Her skin was cool beneath his touch, but not cool enough. They could not stay there too long, she would overheat. It was a reminder of how different she was, in every way. It was part of what made her fascinating.:: ::He thought a wordless affirmation, finding a deep contentment in her closeness and their contact. It was something that he had missed these last nine years. As she drew closer he leaned in and brushed his cheek lightly against hers and lingered there a moment. It was an intimate gesture amongst his people as it brought the facial neural nodes into contact, deepening the mental connection. Here it did not have quite as marked an effect, but it was still pleasurable for him.:: ::Though she was not Vulcan, the gesture was still one of great intimacy. A soft sigh brushed against Saveron's ear and her sense of contentment was coloured with a trembling of desire and a hint of surprise.:: ::He pulled back then, just a hint of chargrin colouring his thoughts, far beneath the deep contentment and yes, happiness that he held there, kept in check behind the barrier of his training, lest he act as he should not..:: Saveron: oO Thank you. Oo ::Wordlessly he signalled his intention to break the mental contact, and a moment later his hand left hers and they were once again alone within their own minds. His gaze focused more fully on her green eyes, her flushed cheeks. She had an alien beauty about her that was very appealing, more so for the mind behind it. A mind he had touch now, the way she should be touched.:: ::Alora inhaled deeply, then let it go in a slow, controlled manner. She hadn't wanted him to break away, but she didn't want him to be uncomfortable either.:: DeVeau: That was...wow, it was... ::She really wished she could wax poetically like some she knew. Kestra would have never been so clumsy. Her tongue ran over her lips and, now that her focus had shifted, more mundane needs began to voice their concerns.:: DeVeau: May I have some more water please? Saveron: Of course. ::He offered the flask on it’s sling to Alora then settled once more with his back against the rock, watching the insects as they zipped from plant to plant in the deepening twilight, letting her be alone with her thoughts.:: ::As was his nature and training, he analysed the experience. Perhaps he should not have been so bold, but Alora had done nothing to indicate that his actions were unwelcome, and he knew of no other way to communicate what he wished her to know, nor how Terrans went about such. He simply did not have the words. Their recent interactions had given him indications that she found his company more agreeable than most, and he knew of no other way to learn the true nature of her interest.:: ::He had not wished to overwhelm her however, who as far as he could tell was completely unaccustomed to mental contact, and amongst his people such was deep and intimate. He considered it advisable to keep the contact brief. As she drank he looked over silently at her, grey eyes scanning her face as he took a moment to memorise every angle.:: ::Alora tilted the flask back and drank deeply of the water. The heat wasn’t as bad, but it was still far more than she was accustomed to. She drained a goodly amount before she came up for air, then ran the back of her hand to carry away a trace of water left there. She froze under the scrutiny from the Vulcan, then slowly closed the container so the water would not spill.:: DeVeau: What? Saveron: A memory is preferable to a holograph, if appropriately formed. ::He said honestly.:: I would remember you, here, now. ::Like it was yesterday; forever.:: ::Alora honestly felt like she was going to melt. Perhaps it was partly the heat, but truthfully, to have a man say something like that to her. Maybe it was said in a Vulcan way, but it was still as romantic as anything that those books he favoured might contain. If they were the influence behind it, then she was grateful to the author!:: DeVeau: You can see me every day. ::She pointed out so eloquently. Here he was, dancing with grace and aplomb and she was stepping all over his toes.:: Saveron: I would find such agreeable, but it may not prove practical. ::He observed, knowing their busy work schedule.:: And ‘every day’ is not now. I have an eidetic memory and will remember this moment clearly when I am old… and when you are gone. ::For even given current Terran lifespans, when she grew old he would be but middle aged. He might well live another hundred years after she died. And who knew what tomorrow might bring? She might not find his company so agreeable in the future; he accepted that possibility. That would not lessen the importance of this moment to him.:: DeVeau: You’re right. ::She agreed and inched closer though she did not touch him. Not without his permission.:: Every day is definitely not now. ::And oh how she wished now could last forever.:: Saveron: But every day brings new potential. I would find it agreeable to spend further time in your company, if you would not object. DeVeau: No, Saveron, I would not object. Not in the slightest. ::The Vulcan nodded gently. What more needed to be said?:: ::Her cheeks were flushed and he could see that Alora was sweating, noted the amount of water that she drank. The light level was dropping rapidly now and after a moment he rose to his feet in one fluid movement.:: Saveron: We can return here at any time, should you wish it. ::He looked away then for a moment, towards the sea.:: Computer, arch. ::The Holodeck’s arch appeared on the sand before them.:: ::The perfect night had to end. Alora rose as Saveron did then followed him toward the arch. She paused in the threshold to gaze upon the beauty they were leaving behind.:: DeVeau: Saveron...will you promise me something? ::Grey eyes looked down into green.:: Saveron: What would you have me promise, Alora? DeVeau: Will you promise to take me to the real eisgh t’Nyone some day? Saveron: Affirmative. END “More than words is all I ever needed you to show; Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me Cause I’d already know.” ~ Extreme, More Than Words

“There’s a hole in the world tonight,There’s a cloud of fear and sorrow.There’s a hole in the world tonight,Don’t let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.” ~ The Eagles, Hole in the World ((Sickbay, Astrofori 1)) ::The Security Officers stepped aside to let him pass and Saveron stepped into the isolation room that held the comatose Harrison Ross. Unlike Evan Delano, Ross had not regained consciousness, and his neural scans showed a greater degree of neural degradation; greater, and increasing.:: ::He had studied the medical literature from his homeworld, the descriptions of how one assessed this type of damage, both using modern medical equipment and that deep telepathy that was so specific to his species. He had poured over instructions on how one healed this type of damage, though such instructions could only go so far, every mind was different. And he had, at the last, strengthened his own mental barriers and revised his mental self-defence training. The implanted personality of Harrison Ross was, by all accounts, not to be trifled with.:: ::Not that he was here to fight. He was here to heal. Still, he carried with him a small, exquisitely carved crystal, his own katric ark, should the opportunity to somehow extract the infecting personality arise.:: ::He had not encountered Harrison Ross following the awakening of his implanted personality; the Commander Ross in Saveron's memory was the cheerful and competent First Officer whom he had known over a year ago. The man he'd had described to him was a monster. The man laid prone on the biobed, a drip-line in his arm feeding him and the muscle wastage from disuse already apparent to the trained eye, was neither. As with many things, it was not the body, not the tool, that was the monster; it was the mind that drove it. Somewhere in there was that monster, and if Quinn and Evan were correct, so too was the good man that he had known.:: ::Placing the crystal on the edge of the biobed, Saveron focused on it for a long moment, using it to centre himself, before transferring his gaze to Ross' face. Reaching out, long fingers touched his cheek, seeking out the neural nodes needed for the connection.:: Saveron: My mind to your mind….. oO My thoughts to your thoughts. Oo ::The wind hit him like a wall.:: ::Gale-force, the scorching wind drove rust-coloured sands that stung the face, abraded the skin and made it almost impossible to breath. Falling to his knees in a protective crouch, arms over his head, Saveron found himself pressed into baked desert sands that smelled of home.:: Saveron: oO Vulcan? Oo ::Raising the cowl of the heavy robe that he wore here to protect his face and ears, he scuttled towards a pile of boulders half visible through the storm and worked his way in between two of them to shield himself from the driving wind. The impact of sand against stone was a constant hiss, and even as he watched the stone was being scoured away.:: Saveron: oO Why Vulcan? Oo ((Vulcan’s Force, Mindscape)) ::Looking up, a great volcano towered over the boulder-strewn valley, and as he watched lightening struck it from a blackened sky. He knew that mountain; this was Vulcan’s Forge. Clearly Ross knew it too. The only indicator that this was a mindscape was the dim and sourceless ambient light.:: ::Saveron had passed his kahs-wan in the Go-an Desert, half a world away, but the privations were similar. He didn’t doubt his ability to survive here, were this real. But it was not, it was a metaphor for the state of Harrison Ross’s mind; grim and slowly being torn apart. Yet the landscape was only the architecture of his mind; where was the personality? Or rather, personalities?:: ::Focusing his concentration, The Vulcan tuned his mental shields and brought his telepathic defensive strategies to bear. This mindscape was a warzone, the enemy the environment itself. His robes wavered, appeared to undergo a moment of existential uncertainty, and solidified as a Vulcan Desert Soft Suit. With practiced moves he raised and sealed the hood and lowered the protective visor over his eyes, becoming a faceless shape in the shifting sands.:: ::Raising his now gloved hands, a slim shape formed between them and extended, becoming a rauh-uhrozjhitao, a Nel Gathic farming tool consisting of a slim rod with a bulbous foot and a small, curved blade at the tip. Using it as a walking staff, Saveron set the foot into the shifting sands and stepped out into Vulcan’s Forge. Somewhere here was the heart of the damage, the heart of the storm. Somewhere here also was Ross.:: ::Shapes ghosted in and out of the sandstorm, only ever in the corner of his eye, never presenting themselves clearly or within reach. Like ghosts or lost katras, seen only through the medium of blowing sand. Where they memories, shred of personality or something else? Saveron didn’t know. They were too tenuous for him to more than note their presence; whether or not that would change remained to be seen.:: ::Sandstorms were not uncommon across Vulcan’s desert regions, though rarely with this degree of viciousness. One learned not to go out in them unless one had to, and when one needed to travel on foot, one walked with the wind. Having no more obvious direction to travel in, Saveron let the constant force of the wind push him as he walked the length of the stoney valley, watching and waiting for some hint of the reasons behind this maelstrom, the source of the damage.:: ::The winds blew high up as well, scouring familiar cliff faces and carrying the sand in biting whorls. He could see their billows far ahead, yet as he watched he realised that the sand blowing across the furthest visible outcrop on his left was travelling in a slightly different direction. Looking to his right he saw the same phenomenon; unlike the surface of a real planet, here the winds were blowing towards one point.:: ::He knew then that, whatever the extent of the damage, it’s core would be there.:: ::A faceless figure in the Desert Suit, he trudged on through the deepening sand. How long he walked was entirely subjective; it might have been a heartbeat, or a lifetime. Timeframes didn’t apply to things that happened at the speed of thought. He knew that he drew closer however, for the angle of the wind was gradually steepening; the point of convergence lay ahead.:: ::Cresting the top of a large dune, at last he saw it. The sand ran down and down into what once would have been a deep, sheltering hollow in the dune where one might rest out of the winds, but now the winds blew down the sand dunes to the bottom of the hollow, and through it, through the black space where there should have been only sand and stone.:: ::There was a hole in the world.:: Ross: Why are you here? ::The mild voice came from behind him.:: ::Ross was wearing traditional Vulcan funeral robes, his posture inoffensive, his hands hidden in the long, bell-like sleeves. Unaffected by the sandstorm, he stared at Saveron, his face an impassive mask any Vulcan would be proud of.:: ::Turning slowly to look over his shoulder, Saveron recognised the representation of Harrison Ross; though which Ross was impossible to determine. His friend or the implanted personality? Or perhaps only the base on which both had been built?:: ::Back to the wind, Saveron lifted the visor of his Desert Suit, pulled the front of the cowl away from his mouth. Unlike Ross he was not immune to the storm. Perhaps it was a reaction to the presence of another telepath, some attempt at self-defence? Ross would have been trained in such, though whether it could be employed unconsciously, Saveron could not know.:: Saveron: I am here to heal that which has been damaged, if I can. ::He indicated the dark void below with the end of his staff.:: ::The other man took a few steps forward, peering down at the void.:: Ross: That is Mister Delano's handiwork. ::He paused.:: How is he? Saveron: He is… conscious. ::He said eventually. Which Ross was he talking to?:: He regrets the event. Whether or not he also received damage is yet to be determined. ::He said simply.:: You did not escape so lightly. ::He observed.:: Ross: ::Mildly,:: I imagine there are some people very pleased by that. ::He was probably right, but the Vulcan doctor wasn’t here to take sides.:: Saveron: Will you permit me to attempt the repair? Ross: I'd be a fool not to. ::He looked at Saveron, his gaze intent.:: You don't find the idea… disagreeable? ::The Vulcan shrugged slightly.:: Saveron: I am not here to lay blame or seek fault. One of you knew me. I am a doctor, my duty is to heal, without fear or favour. I shall do what I came to do, and then leave. ::It was a small smile that crossed Ross' face; the first outward display of emotion since he had appeared.:: Ross: Just that like that. Saveron: Affirmative. Ross: Well then. ::He gestured toward the chasm.:: By all means. ::The Vulcan nodded curtly, and turned his back to Ross’s avatar to survey the void below them once more. It was representative of the damage to the man’s mind, and he must feel carefully for the damaged threads, the broken links between synapses. He had studied Vulcan texts on the subject, but to his knowledge such had never been performed on a Terran.:: ::First, he needed to seal the current damage, prevent any further unravelling. Taking his rauh-uhrozjhitao, the farmer’s tool that here was representative of his will, he walked the edge of the Void, prodding and pressing the sand with the blunt end of the farmer’s staff to pack it into a firmer, stronger wall at the edge of the hole, resembling nothing so much as a Vulcan farmer tending his field.:: ::Rough edges of thought-paths were smoothed, ragged breaks eased or, where they could not be soothed, they were cut out, removed in such a way that they would be allowed to regrow, like an ulcerated wound cleaned of dead, infected tissue before it could heal.:: ::Saveron knew that he could not heal all the damage, only Ross’s mind could do that, like his body would heal a wound. His purpose was to stop the destructive process, prepare the wounded areas to be receptive to that healing. In time Ross’s mind would heal itself.:: ::Gradually, as the Vulcan worked, the edges of the void became firm rather than ragged, and the flow of sand into it ceased. The wind lowered gradually in intensity, though it did not abate, still scraping at the stone cliffs around them.:: ::Pausing to look around, Saveron could see the damage that the scouring wind had done to the familiar cliffs and rock outcroppings; he could only hope that, in time, the mind’s natural healing processes would restore the structure of Ross’s mind to it’s former fullness. But that process still needed facilitating.:: ::Beside him, Ross surveyed the damage with an equally impassive eye. Or was it? There was ever such a small frown tugging at the inner edges of his eyebrows.:: Ross: Evan really did a number on me, didn't he? Saveron: The damage is… significant. ::The doctor agreed.:: I can provide some measure of scaffolding for the regrowth that must take place. ::He said.:: Beyond that, your mind must be allowed to heal itself. Ross: Please, scaffold away.::Reversing the farmer’s staff, Saveron used the small blade to draw lines in the air, starting at the edge of the sand and stretching out across the Void. Entirely counter intuitively, grains of sand and even small stones flowed in the wake of that blade, forming like tree roots across the blackness of the void.:: ::Walking around the edge, the Vulcan doctor repeated his efforts, drawing lines of growth where synapse connections had been destroyed, mapping out the directions where Ross’s brain needed to re-grow its links, re-form the mind that had resided there. He could not build it himself, only facilitate the process, and that only so far. The rest would be up to natural healing processes.:: ::Gradually a network of sand-trails formed, growing and thickening as the sand flowed, until at last they merged together, and where there had been a hole in the world, there was only a sandy depression. At last the gale winds faded to nothing more than the usual desiccating breeze that blew through this valley.:: ::Above them, the cliffs were still sand-scoured and worn, different from reality. Would they also heal in time?:: ::Ross was silent for a long time, looking about the quieter, changed landscape. His demeanour continued to echo that of the Vulcan healing his mind, and his funeral robes were gone, replaced by a desert suit.:: Ross: I feel... better. Thank you, Saveron. ::He ran his hand across his scalp. As his palm passed over the close-cropped blond locks, they changed to a longer, shining black -- very much like Saveron's.:: ::The Vulcan had been about to nod, but paused when he saw the change take place. Ross was coming to closely resemble the Vulcan himself.:: Saveron: You are the implanted personality. ::He deduced.:: Ross: I wonder. Do you think Alora would be able to tell the difference? ::Similar tactics to those that prompted Evan’s outburst; referring to those with whom the victim was close, to upset their equilibrium. But unlike Evan, Saveron was a full-blooded Vulcan, born and raised on the homeworld.:: Saveron: Possibly not, until you sought to act in a way that caused injury to another. ::He acknowledged.:: However, this is Harrison Ross’s mind, his body. Now that I have completed that which I came to do, I shall leave. ::Ross smiled at him, absently thumbing a pointed ear.:: Ross: It does seem like it's time to depart. ::Saveron gathered his mental defences. He’d held no illusions about the danger of Ross’s implanted personality, though he had not expected something quite so overt. Not expected it, but he had anticipated it.:: ::Never taking his eyes from Ross, Saveron took a step backwards, and the fabric of the mindscape shifted behind him. No hole in the scenery, but rather a tunnel through it, what a wormhole might look like if one had a personal-sized one. Whatever lay at the other end was bathed in a brightness too intense to look at. As Saveron stepped backwards his image started to shift and stretch, as he began to remove himself from Ross’s mind, seat his consciousness wholly within his own once more.:: ::Ross' image blurred, melting like a picture from the human artist, Salvador Dali, before it split into two. Saveron saw Harrison Ross, blond and round-eared, collapse onto the sand of the Vulcan desert, his eyes wide and glassy. At the same time, he saw a own mirror image of himself leap forward, snaring his wrists with his hands. As Saveron pulled back into his own mind, Ross began to follow.:: Ross-Saveron: He's terrible company, you know. And he's outlived his usefulness. *You*, on the other hand... Saveron: Are not yours to use. ::Perspective shifted, turned, and the sandscapes of Vulcan fell away, upwards. They were falling, flying, down a tunnel of shadows and half-seen shapes, towards a brilliant light at the end. Saveron strove, struggled, to release Ross’s mental grip on him, sought to reach the brilliant light before Ross could.:: Ross-Saveron: We'll see. ::Releasing the Vulcan’s wrists he pushed him away and, with a burst of mental effort, Ross strove for the light, Saveron on his heels but falling further behind. At last the light engulfed him, blindingly brilliant and crystalline, and in his triumph he sought for the mechanics of this mind. He was faced suddenly with a mirror. Turning, only another mirror. Mirrors upon mirrors, brightly lit, with only his own face staring back at him, reflected a million times into infinity.::. ::The grey haze through which they had tunnelled slowly evaporated, a heavy fog that cleared as the orange sun crested the horizon, leaving Saveron standing once more on parched sands. Yellow this time, rather than red, though still beneath an ochre sky. Above him the old tower rose, stone walls bastions against inner emotion and supporting structure of his own mind. That which Ross had sought, and had passed so close by.:: ((Sickbay, Astrofori One)) ::The crystal fell from his grasp as Saveron slumped across Ross’s body, dropping onto the biobed next to the man’s leg where it settled, glowing with a faint, inner light that it had not previously held. The Vulcan lay there for a moment, motionless, checking and reaffirming that his mental bastions were sound, and he was alone in his mind.:: ::Behind him, the isolation room door opened.:: Security Officer: Sir? ::He was exhausted; mentally drained beyond anything he had ever experienced. Yet he had succeeded, and in more than he had set out to do. After a long moment he sat up, brushed his black hair from his face, and blinked. Sensing nothing more than a mind resting and healing beneath his fingers, he withdrew his other hand from Ross’s cheek.:: Security Officer: Sir? is everything alright? Saveron: Affirmative. ::He said at last, weariness in every word.:: ::The man watched him carefully as the Vulcan rose to his feet, unsteadily, and made his way over to the replicator. A few simple commands produced a small, transal sharps container; transparent but impregnable. Returning to Ross’s side he scooped the glowing crystal into the box and sealed the one-way lid. I could not be opened without cutting through the container.:: Saveron: This is a Katric Ark. It contains Commander Ross’s implanted katra. It is to be conveyed to Starfleet Intelligence. Under no circumstances is anyone to open it. Do you understand? Security Officer: Aye, sir. ::The man gingerly accepted the box that Saveron placed into his hand.:: Saveron: I will provide a full report of what occurred, in time. I will also require a full medical and psychological assessment by the station’s medical personnel. ::Not his own staff.:: Now however I must rest. ::The Security Officer watched the Vulcan doctor leave the isolation room and wander off into Astrofori One’s medical facilities. Exhausted beyond belief, Saveron wished only to rest. There was one thing that needed doing first however.:: ::Despite his protesting body and baulking brain, he sat down at a console in a quiet corner of the medical facilities and logged in. Bringing up his email he started a new message, addressed to Captain Quinn Reynolds.:: ::How to word it? His tired brain was fighting him, refusing even the limited compassion and eloquence he was accustomed to using. How to tell her? What to tell her? Finally, tired hands typed out one single line.:: ------------------------------------------------------------Recipient: Captain Quinn ReynoldsSender: Lieutenant Commander SaveronSubject: <none> Quinn, Harrison is free. Saveron---------------------------------------------------------------- ::He hit send and logged off the console. He should have got up, made his way back to the Invicta or at least found a bed somewhere. As it was he simply folded his arms on the desk, rested his head on them in a posture familiar to university students everywhere, and passed out.:: ::At some point someone dragged a blanket over him. Time passed, in undisturbed dreams and silence.:: ::When he stirred, she was sat there. Legs crossed, hands in her lap, watching him with hazel eyes. Her uniform was red instead of the familiar black, and its creases said that, unlike him, she had not slept in some time.:: Reynolds: ::Quietly,:: I got your message. ::Slowly Saveron sat up. He had been unusually deeply asleep, his mind exhausted beyond anything physical exertion could bring. Bleerily - such an odd look for a Vulcan - the doctor passed a hand over his face and blinked twice, third eyelids only retracting on the second blink.:: Saveron: I was unaware that the Gorkon had docked. ::He admitted.:: ::How long had he slept? Captain Reynolds must have come straight from her ship.:: Reynolds: What happened? Saveron: An excellent question, and one for which I do not have complete answer. ::Much as he would prefer to.:: I was able to identify the psychological damage caused by the antagonistic meld, and initiate reparations. ::Could he explain what he had found? Quinn was a telepath herself.:: It was… like an ulcer, unable to heal. I removed what was damaged and laid the groundwork for further healing, there is no regenerator for the mind. ::She hesitated before speaking again, almost as though she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the response.:: Reynolds: You said he was free. ::The Vulcan considered carefully.:: Saveron: I encountered a representation of Commander Ross, whilst I was there. It was the implanted katra. ::He paused, choosing his words.:: It would seem that he tired of his comatose host, and decided that I would make a more useful one. He attempted to follow the connection back to myself. Reynolds: But you stopped him. Saveron: I do not know whether I would have bested him in direct mental combat; I have no measure of his innate ability or training. Rather I utilised a measure of misdirection which he apparently did not anticipate. The personality is trapped in my katric ark. ::She let that sink in, glancing off in the direction of Harrison's room. A few moments passed, and she returned her attention to Saveron.:: Reynolds: Is he alright? The real Harry? Saveron: Before he pursued me he… split. He had changed to resemble me, but he left behind what appeared to be Harrison Ross, unconscious. I… suspect that is the original personality. What state his mind may now be in… I do not know. But if there is an optimal situation for his original personality to heal and resurface, he is there now. ::He gave Quinn a measured look.:: It is possible that contact with the familiar may stimulate healing. I think you would say that it would 'give him something to live for’. ::It only lasted a moment, the look of acute distress that crossed her pale, freckled face. It vanished with a breath of air, as she inhaled sharply and slowly breathed it out.:: Reynolds: I'll go and see him. ::She paused.:: Thank you, Saveron. You risked yourself for him. I know Harry will… Well. Hopefully he'll be able to tell you himself, sometime soon. Saveron: So we may both hope. ::He agreed quietly.:: END Captain Quinn ReynoldsCommanding OfficerUSS GorkonT238401QR0 and LtCmdr SaveronSO and CMOUSS InvictaR238802S10