Wednesday, October 20, 2010

[USS Charon] SD241010.20 || Joint Log "Homeward Bound" Part III || 1st Lt Brent Warren, LtCmdr Sakarra Tyrax

=/\= T'Shen monastery, Shi'Al province =/\=

"Because we serve together. When this information came down I knew that if I did not go to her soon I might miss the chance, and then I would be haunted my such a memory for the rest of my life," he replied, catching a glimpse of the other three healers coming towards him. Fantastic. "As for how I know exactly where she is? That is none of your business," he replied. "Although thank you, for confirming for me where she was."


"You require my confirmation for that which you know to be true?" faint amusement rang in Sejet's level baritone, along with the patiently chiding note of an elder addressing a rather stubborn youth. "All seeking healing here are my 'business' as you call it, stranger. And while your concern for a crewmate honors you, just as your desire to protect your … friend's privacy, know that she whom you seek is attended by family and our most experienced healers. And the former…" there was yet another inexplicable twinkle of amusement in the dark brown eyes before the healer-monk gently and silently shook his head "… will not allow an outworlder to intrude. Unless there is another truth you wish me to … confirm?'

Before Sejet's patient, serene eyes the little Chkariya had hopped off the cheerfully gurgling fountain and raced across the hardy mountain grass to disappear in a tree. While most of the tall conifers saturating the clean air with their soothing scent grew outside the wall, the one in the courtyard's center was old, centuries, if not millennia, and had lent its gentle shadow to generations of Vulcans – untouched, untrimmed, growing as it pleased. She had always loved it, willful, untamed child she was. And somehow the monk found it not at all unlikely she would love that stubborn, willful human, too. 


Brent made the attempt to fold his arms over his chest in extreme annoyance. He was stopped however by the pain resurfacing in his shoulder before he grunted and shook his head. "I stand here no more than twenty-five meters from her. I tore apart the man who took her from me, was kneeling above her as I was going to take her hand for the first time in almost a week... And here I am being stopped by a silver haired monk and his three compatriots," the marine muttered under his breath before he let out a breath of frustration. "I suppose that even if I do get past you and your comrades, her family will promptly evict me from the room?" he asked the rhetorical question before he nodded. "I love her, and she loves me."


Muttered or no, thin mountain air aside, to Vulcan ears every word was clear and loud. And these particular ones made slanted brows climb slowly on the old, patient face. In any other race, it could have qualified as gentle humor, understanding, compassion.

"You suppose correctly." As if he had not just spoken, the healer turned and walked towards the small arched doorway set into the honey colored stone, his light, even steps barely making a sound on the gravel. "However, C'thia demands that a Declared One be not kept from his t'sai. Not to mention law and custom, though I suppose you were quite willing to disregard those, no?"

Without turning to see if the human had indeed followed, Sejet pushed open the doors and entered the high ceilinged antechamber where the morning light filtered through tall windows, Nevasa's fierce glare tempered by the tall trees outside.

Somewhere in the distance faint birdsong mingled with the soothing sound of a Ka'athyra, robes swishing over cool stone and the low murmur of voices. Kneeling on the pillows set by the large, unlit copper brazier were two young Vulcans in mediation pose, their fingers steepled in their laps. Though the borrowed, flowing robes hardly disguised their military bearing, the swords nestling on a shelf would give even an outworlder a rather non-subtle clue. Two pairs of dark eyes glanced up and it was difficult to tell which was more displeased, the one who would soon be mother and stared at the intruder like a Sehlat ready to tear an insolent one limb from limb or the fierce, tall one who breathed quiet menace like a glowing ember exudes heat.

"Sochya, kanu."

It seemed to mollify them – just barely. Though their eyes followed, silent, watching.


"T'Leia may still have my head for this." Seemingly amused at the prospect, Sejet waved for the tall, blue eyed human to follow.   


"We all have to die sometime," Brent replied with a grunt giving the slightest of nods to those who seemed intent on staring holes through.  How utterly put out by a simple door opening and someone walking.  "Is not the cause of love a worthy one?" he asked as they came through towards the doors and into the antechamber.  He had no intention of leaving the old monk alone until Brent got what he wanted from him.  Brent sighed, realizing that this was the first time that he would be introduced to her family.  It was doubtful that Sakarra had even sent back a message about the two of them.  Being so isolated he wondered if she had.  Such distracting thoughts were again dashed aside as he followed behind the monk, feeling her presence grow as they walked.  At least he wasn't lying to him.


"Quite so. However a poor healer I would make if I were not intent on prolonging life where possible, yes?" The amusement now barely veiled in both his voice and the patient old eyes, Sejet led the way down a wide, airy corridor past graceful statues and elegant murals, noticing the marine increasing speed as his heavy boots made enough noise to frighten the birds nesting on the roof. How fortunate that the young t'sai was not far, or Sejet might have been forced to … scramble in order to keep up with the man's confident stride.

The healer turned just in time to prevent such an undignified occurrence and pushed aside the flowing curtains shielding the doorway to reveal a large, sunlit, quiet room and a low bed with the still form of a young Vulcan resting on fine ivory silks. Thin, light sheets covering the gruesome wounds on her back she seemed to be sleeping peacefully, her long black curls cascading to the floor. "It is, in fact the only worthy one."


Nodding towards the healer kneeling by the bed, Sejet stepped aside to let the young man pass.  


Brent had barely been able to contain himself to wait long enough to let the old monk step aside. He did however, and let out a deep sigh, moving over to Sakarra with great purpose and haste.  He knelt down beside her, opposite of the healer.  He knew the wounds were bad.  They wouldn't have made the call out to others if it hadn't been.  Gently, and with great care not to disturb her injuries, he reached, taking her hand in his.  His fingers intertwining with hers as he let out a deep breath.  He had wanted this for so long.  For almost the past entire week.  He brought his lips down, kissing her hand as he looked down into her unconscious face.

"Hey.  It's me," he said weakly, having thought of this moment for so long but now that it was finally here he wasn't sure what to say.  He brushed a bit of her hair out of her face.  "It's been a while.  Close to a week," he said as he leaned against the bed.  All of the adrenaline that he had been riding since he had heard the news that she was close to death was slowly fading away.  Here she was, right in front of him.  He didn't know for how much longer but he had no plans to leave her, one way or the other.  "I'm sorry," he said, barely holding back the tears.  "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. Gods," he squeezed her hand gently.  "I'm sorry I didn't stop him sooner. I know," he said stopping to swallow and take in a deep breath.  "I know it doesn't do you any good now. But he can't hurt you any more my love. I made sure of that..."


Sihayel had been minded to protest this highly irregular intrusion – by an outworlder no less – but the abbot's silent gesture and the very obvious sense of … familiarity had stopped the ancient healer. And if the way the human interlaced his fingers with those of the injured Vulcan had not given her a clear sign, his words certainly did.

Well, now. Someone might have informed her there was a bond-mate. It would have … simplified matters. Then again, the Matriarch surely would have… Sihayel was not sure whether she liked the obvious conclusion to her thoughts, but if the healers of T'Shen adhere to one principle, it is to make use of what you have to the best possible effect.


Outside the tall windows the trees swayed under a faint gust of wind, and a small bird's warning call told of a predator riding the currents high above. Or perhaps one of the rare, shy Lynx who still prowled these parts had come down from the cold peaks that were its proper home to hunt for its young. To a Vulcan, this was a cool, refreshing autumn morning and the room's great fireplace was lit for the sake of the injured one whose condition mandated warmth. There was even a scent of rain on the air, as the season for storms was not far and Llangon tended to see the first each year. The healer breathed deeply, wondering whether they would be fortunate enough this decade to actually feel the droplets falling from the skies without having to climb so high even their lungs began to feel the strain.



[To be continued …]


Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax

Executive Officer


Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander


USS Charon







Senior Healer


T'Shen Monastery