Thursday, October 1, 2009

[USS Charon] SD240910.01 - Personal BackLog "Nevasa" Part XI | CHO - Sakarra Tyrax

[Village of Xen'tal, Gol Province, Vulcan]
The silver haired Betazoid lady in her lush, magnolia colored sundress exited the old Inn and immediately opened her parasol. Not that it helped much, the all encompassing heat was like a soft punch hitting her body everywhere at once. But she did strongly object to instant sunburn.
Her entourage, three more Betazoids in varying states of exasperation, cast one glance at the fiery disc high over the village and as if by unspoken agreement, let out a collective sigh.
"I don't suppose it's going to be an inside ceremony? As in, say, a place with air conditioning?" The woman making the inquiry sported not only a quite revealing sky blue dress and a matching hat that could have supported a flock of birds on it's wide brim, but the most astonishingly auburn hair to go with it.
"Don't be ridiculous, dear. This is like a spring day at Lake Cataria to the natives. Why would they want to freeze their eartips off?"
"I'm sure they'll try to accommodate their off world guests, Lwanissa" the only male in the group reassuringly patted his sister's arm. Incidentally, he also seemed to be the calmest, and least affected by the harsh climate.
"They usually do, you know."
"You think 'Kara really likes it here?" the youngest of the Betazoids squinted into the horribly bright light, tilting her red parasol a bit to gain the maximum amount of shade. Apart from a slightly more voluptuous and taller frame, she might have been a younger version of the woman in the blue dress.
"It's her home, Olixinna."
He raised a hand to shade his eyes from Nevasa's glare and looked over the small village nestled amongst the hills. From this vantage point one could overlook every one of the low, golden colored buildings and the sprawling complex of the Institute of Defensive Arts with it's amphitheaters and wide open courtyards. Right before them the main street led down into the old artisan quarter, passing residential homes and finally ended at the tiny shuttle port. The middle aged Betazoid with many more silver streaks in his dark hair than his years would have warranted pointed towards the large open area to their right. Roughly half a square mile of red-golden sand, on three sides framed by graceful stone arcades and looking out into the plains of Gol on the fourth, this was obviously the hub of activity and therefore their destination.
"We might want to get going, it looks like the V'Ket are already forming up."
"The who? And Betazed is her home, uncle Rel. It's where she grew up for Deities' sake."
"The humans have a saying, Olixinna." Rel offered his arm to his mother who by now had snapped open her laced fan and drawn herself up to her full height of one point six meters, obviously intent on showing this place how a lady meant to deal with hell itself.
"And what would that be?"
"Home is where the heart is."

It had taken a little longer that Rel had anticipated, mostly because his sister and niece had insisted on investigating and commenting on every small aspect of the village that they deemed noteworthy - be it the abundance of little fountains and gardens or the exquisite jewelry in a shop window - but also because the increasing heat slowly permeated every pore and made both breathing and, well, moving, a bit of an effort. Thank the Deities for tri-ox compounds.
At last they were guided through the sprawling complex by a most courteous young woman in the uniform of the V'Kor and found their seats right at the center of the main arcade- as Rel had suspected, there were not only cushioned seats next to a cheerfully bubbling fountain but in fact carafes with ice cold water awaiting them.
And right on the other side of the little fountain… reflexively, Rel bowed in a manner that a daughter of the Fourth House could not have faulted in any way, while the ladies of the Twelfth House merely waved their fans in greeting, for once too exhausted from the heat to display their usual exuberance.
"T'Leia. T'nar pak sorat y'rani."
"Osa-fu. T'nar jaral."
A heavy-set male with iron-gray streaks in his night-black hair followed the brief exchange, but not one muscle moved while he sat as still as one of the ancient statues decorating the arcades. Although his bearing was just as regal as those statues, they did not radiate the same sense of energy, held in check by an almost frightening control.
Even without the black and silver tunic, Rel would have recognized him immediately. The small frown crossing the Betazoid's face dissipated when the tall, slender figure of Solkar emerged behind his wife and the elder Vulcan with the ever serene face raised his hand in greeting. But before Rel could return the gesture, the low, rhythmic sound of drums signaled the entrance of the V'Ket honor guards and Lwanissa tugged on her brother's sleeve.
Rel sank into his pillow, reaching for the glass of water his niece held out to him.
'Uncle Rel?'
'Yes, dear.'
'Don't worry about it, Olixinna. Look, those are the V'Ket.'
'They look... different. And are those real Lirpas?'
The Betazoid nodded, smiling ever so slightly as the Vulcans in their dark red and gold robes marched across the plaza in perfect sync with one another, the fierce sun glinting off their deadly weapons. He found the one he was looking for leading the third column, a tiny woman by many standards, but she carried the staff with it's crescent blade with astonishing ease and grace.
As usual, T'Para's tightly braided black hair held a reddish shine and she moved with near playful elegance.
Hard to believe that no three decades ago the stunning beauty down there had been the second most inquisitive child Rel had ever encountered, toddling after her funny uncle wherever he went and Deities have mercy if he didn't pick her up at the first sound of "Toz'oooooh".
Rel's silent reverie was interrupted when the V'Ket had reached their positions and announced that fact by simultaneously slamming their feet and the heavy Lirpas into the ground. To the Betazoids, the sound was deafening. Rel didn't want to know the effect it would have on Vulcan ears.
For several seconds, there was silence, and the only sound echoing between the stone arcades was the gurgling of the small fountains and the rustling of flags in the light afternoon breeze.
Then the drums picked up again, slow and steady, reverberating through the Betazoid's bones and putting him slightly on edge for reasons he could not quite figure out until his intuition overrode what his ears told him.
Below the heavy, strong sound, now accompanied by the footfalls of the graduates marching through the gate, led by - oh goodness, his little one - there was the echo of more drums, much faster, inaudible to his less sensitive ears in this thin atmosphere.
'Look uncle Rel. Oh, she's gorgeous!'
'Yes, dear. She is.'
Fatherly pride aside, the young woman with the night-black eyes leading her fellow graduates out into the plaza was indeed one that drew quite a bit of attention. To Rel's dismay, the hawk-eyed man in the dark tunic of V'Shar displayed a keen interest as well. Not that he moved, but his sharp gaze was fixed upon the protégée of Sovar and now top of her class, despite a most rocky start.
The drums fell silent again as the graduates lined up and Rel leaned forward a bit, trying not to miss a second of the brief but very beautiful ceremony.
When their little one was presented with her sword, Lhorexa Tyrax gave a small "Oooh" and nudged her son "Is that…"
'Shhh, mother. Yes, it definitely looks like T'Shonra's handiwork.'
'Deities, I didn't know she still makes them.'
'Only if it suits her, mother.'
he smirked just a little 'She's very much like you in that aspect. If she doesn't want to, all the latinum of Ferenginar won't change her mind.'
A small 'harrumph' followed that statement, but thankfully it was drowned by the instructors dismissing their now former students. Well, all but one because traditionally, the head of the class could pick one final fight with his or her chosen adversary.
'Kinda like one last round for old times' sake? Settle old scores?' 
Lwanissa chuckled quietly, and Rel joined in her silent laughter.
'More like: Thanks for everything buddy, let's show them what a good job you've done.'
The only thing that worried Rel a little was that traditionally, the class leader would pick the best fighter among the instructors present and yes, there was his little one, gracefully accepting a Lirpa - was that T'Leia's? A brief glance to his left confirmed Rel's suspicion, the Vulcan matriarch looked about as satisfied as a mother Le-Matya whose favorite cub had just scored it's first kill.
As expected, Sakarra leveled the blade towards the still figure of Sovar and again, Lady Lhorexa let out a huff of air.
Sometimes, being an empath was a real pain in the paracortex.

They watched the two young Vulcans charge each other with a ferocity that had Olixinna wince while Lwanissa's eyes grew wide "Rel my dear, tell me those things are only practice weapons."
"Afraid not." he had another sip of the cold water to calm his nerves, just as Sakarra leapt into the air and executed a forward summersault over Sovar's head. There was definitely amusement radiating off the stone-faced young man as he ducked and turned faster than the laws of physics should allow, but always in sync with the slowly beating ancient drums of Vulcan battle.
For a brief moment, Rel felt the hair on his neck stand up.
Lwanissa simply snorted in response to her brother's statement.
"Mild-mannered 'bred-to peace' my ass."
"Sorry, mother."
Sovar blocked a series of blows that blurred in the air, his counterattack however drove the lithe, but much smaller young woman halfway across the plaza. For a few seconds, they came close enough to the Betazoids sitting in the shade that Lhorexa could physically feel the combined heat of their bodies as they charged each other relentlessly under the sun that somehow just seemed to get more scorching by the minute.
"Go get him, 'Kara."
Olixinna jumped excitedly in her seat, eliciting a few quirked brows and a silent chuckle from Solkar's direction.
And indeed, the little dark haired woman managed to gain some ground again, if only for a brief while before her opponent's Lirpa stopped just a fraction of a millimeter from her throat.
With a sigh Rel put down the glass he had clutched so tightly he was afraid he might have broken it any minute now, when a look of utter satisfaction appeared on Sovar's face.
Puzzled, the Betazoid leaned forward again and saw Sakarra's blade resting against the other Vulcan's neck with the lightness of a feather.
"You're kidding me. A draw?"
"Are we allowed to cheer now?" Olixinna whispered and nudged her uncle when a calm but firm "Kroykah." echoed between the arcades.
The two combatants lowered their weapons and bowed to T'Leia, who emerged from the shadows to express her satisfaction.
As if some signal had been given, all the visitors followed suit and poured into the square to retrieve their family and friends.
"A party, at least?" Olixinna mumbled while trailing behind her grandmother who swooped down towards her Vulcan counterpart and snapped open her parasol with one decisive move.
Just as Lady Lhorexa was about to intercept the tall, dark Sovar from getting closer to her little one, he lowered his head and murmured something into Sakarra's ear that sent waves of amusement from the young woman, although her face sure was just as unmoved as those of everyone around her.
Well, this was going to stop right here and now.

Sakarra noticed the approach of her Betazoid family - not that it was difficult, Lhorexa Tyrax parted the crowd of Vulcans twice her size like a battleship under full steam. Quirking a brow, she half turned to greet them when she felt Sovar's hot breath close to her face and heard his low baritone, barely loud enough to drown out the noise of pleasant conversations and rustling robes.
"Nam-tor du bifik ri wak na'kur-bosh plem-at."
Despite her aching bones and bruised muscles, it took all the composure she could muster not to laugh out loud. DAMN that man…

[End Log]

Lieutenant Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helms-Vulcan
USS Charon