Monday, October 25, 2010

[USS Charon] SD241010.25 || Joint Log "House of Healing" Part III || 1st Lt Brent Warren, LtCmdr Sakarra Tyrax

=/\=  T'Shen monastery, Shi'Al province =/\=
17th Day in the month of et'Khior, YS 9022



Motions as smooth and fluid as a feline waking from a nap on a sunlit windowsill, Sovar rose and stepped to the window, seemingly ignoring everything but the continued fall of raindrops. A brief gust of wind sent the droplets dancing, scattering, spraying the light silk curtains.

"You were not mistaken, Brent Warren." He might have been speaking to the massive old Ic'tan conifers, the low, even baritone as fluid and steady as the rain. "What you told me I already knew, and more. Though certain … details were as of yet unclear and I appreciate you providing them."

Another silence, during which emotions might have come and gone, though not trace, no shadow ever showed in the lithe, dark figure by the window.


"Nor were you mistaken that I question your fitness to be mate to a t'sai of her … nature.  You believe you know what she is and I have no doubt it delights you. But if anything, your recent experience should have taught you that you are … what is the phrase? Playing with fire?" At long last, the Vulcan deigned to turn his head and settle the dark, deep grey eyes on his rival. And then seemed to experience a faint emotion after all for allowing himself to even think the word. Hands loosely clasped behind his back, Sovar took due note of the quietly fuming healer and the dark blue gaze holding his. "You were quite … explicit in describing how you would deal with a challenger. However I advise you to choose your battles wisely."


Yes. Brent would definitely have to have a talk with Sakarra once she woke up. Crazy psycho ex-boyfriends indeed. Brent wanted to fold his arms over his chest in response. Instead he shrugged his shoulders a little, paying for it with the pain that continued from his injury to his left shoulder.  "Fortunately for me, you are not the one whose opinion I have to care about. Nor are you the first one to question that I could properly handle a t'sai such as she. Given this current trend, I doubt that you will be the last." He frowned ever so slightly. "As for this recent experience, I'm not sure anyone could have predicted that the Vaek'Riov would go insane like he did, and try to eliminate your entire race where it started." He left out the fact that the entire Vulcan Defense Force had been caught with their pants down away from the planet when the attack had happened, and that the V'Shar had not seen through it. Truth be told there was no way to accurately predict the words and actions of a mad man. But then again that was the implication that Brent took from Sovar's words, that he should have anticipated this.

"As for my words... Well you are free to interpret them as you so wish. You wanted to know how she ended up like this and so you were told. If you wish to feel that you were insulted from an injured human, I don't suppose anything I say could hope to stop you. You seem to have already made up your mind about me before even walking into this room," he replied dryly, his eyes never averting from the stare that he gave him, only blinking.


V'Ley caught herself nodding emphatically and just so managed to not huff in satisfaction at the human's response. Fitness to be her mate indeed. Who did this insolent one think he was, questioning the lady's choice? Even if the Marine hadn't provided ample proof that he was more than … were her eartips blushing again?

This was getting a bit out of hand. Resolving to spend some extra time in meditation later today, the young healer noted with silent glee how the human whom she would not at all have objected to naming champion held the scorching gaze that would have sent a lesser man running for the hills.


"If I were to claim insult, Brent Warren … you would know." Spoken as levelly as if Sovar were commenting upon the weather, the words at least held no insulting disregard for the inferior. Turning towards the conifers swaying under the ever increasing rain, the tall Vulcan seemed almost … impressed. Almost.


"Hiyet! Ri-yehat! Ah, hassu-lorr!"

What stormed into the room, dripping water and followed by white-robed novices orbiting her like satellites a small planet was a splendid apparition indeed, no matter her rather … drenched state. Stopping her quite un-Vulcan shout of annoyance at being fussed over like a sickly cub, T'Para glared at the three people already arrayed around her still sleeping ne`ki'ne.


Without waiting for an answer to her inquiry, the woman in her terracotta uniform turned on her heel, pointing at the doorway, not quite caring that the sword scabbard strapped across her back nearly bounced off a poor healer's head in the process. "Sy'ah!"

There was no question the healers wanted to protest. And there was none whatsoever they would leave as ordered.


Her eyelashes as inky black as her hair and just as covered in raindrops, the small V'Ket twirled around again to examine the human. "So. Back, are you?"


As Sovar broke away his gaze Brent simply went back to his monitoring of Sakarra. If the Vulcan wished to speak to him more then he could be the one to discuss matters. Frankly Brent disliked him enough already and felt no reason to begin to converse with the Vulcan again, the arrogant prick that he was. The commotion nearly made him raise an eyebrow with disbelief. If there was one thing that this place had been it was peaceful and calm. Now it seemed like a hurricane was preparing to run through the small room. When he looked up and saw that it was indeed the quite pregnant one from before Brent had to restrain a smirk. Ah, well it was good to know that some things were indeed cross species.

He bowed his head to the woman when she addressed him. "I have indeed. I felt it was best to bathe, less I offend the senses of those around me even more," he said with a slight smile. "Ah and when I got done with my shower I realized that I had not eaten a proper meal in almost six days.  Starvation diet on dehydrated Starfleet rations does not a fit Marine make. While this monastery is quite lovely, quiet, and a place of healing... I do believe that it would be difficult to acquire a good steak here. I indulged myself quickly before returning here to my beloved's side. When I have been here a day, I will return and do the same again. Perhaps only with seafood next time."


The near perfect, courteous greeting was enough to make T'Para blink rapidly, and the no less polite words combined with the playfully insolent air around the man … settled it.

He might have dropped into her lap out of clear skies in the middle of the Forge and she would have known him to be Sakarra's mate. Or at least a male who could actually survive a close encounter with her. Very close. The other one hadn't. Served him right.


There was a small puddle forming at her feet and the pressure on her ribs seemed to increase when the little one cheerfully somersaulted once more, not exactly improving the young woman's mood. Glaring at the healers crowding the door with an array of towels enough for a small army or a terran elephant, T'Para stripped out of her uniform, ignoring Sovar's raised brow and the little healer's sharply indrawn breath.


"Steak? Not difficult. Quite impossible. Unless you care to fight with a Le-Sahriy over its dinner and then roast it yourself."

Down to her silk underwear, the Vulcan seemed utterly unperturbed by the presence of an outworlder and even went so far as throwing her soaked camisole at the healer who had been about to suggest … whatever. Something T'Para cared not to hear. He was bonded to her ne`ki'ne, and one could safely assume had seen her splendidly naked more than once. The former made him family, the latter made him resistant to the terrible shock of seeing that a Vulcan was a living being.


"Well? Give it here."

A tad pathetic, how five males at once tried to push through the doorframe to offer towels and cover the pregnant woman's state of undress, but she was much too busy being irritated to laugh at their antics. "Good. Now out with you. Out!"

Turning back to the Marine who had not moved one inch from his Companion's side, T'Para fixed him with a stare out of deep, storm grey eyes. "You'd think they want to insult you. Outworlder or no, you obviously have manners. And know what a female looks like. Not to mention I suspect you have enough sense to not let a carrying one stand around dripping. What!"

The latter was directed at the monk who had floated quietly into the room, carrying a tray with several mugs of steaming tea.

"Though for a shower right now you won't need your poor little ship. Just step outside." Accepting the tea, she impatiently motioned for the monk to move on to Brent and then cocked her head at the blue eyed human "I wondered. They said you killed him. Now I'm almost inclined to believe it's true." 



[To be continued …]


Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax

Executive Officer


Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander



USS Charon