Thursday, October 28, 2010

[USS Charon] SD241010.28 || Joint Log "House of Healing" Part X || 1st Lt Brent Warren, LtCmdr Sakarra Tyrax

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



"My story on the other hand is rather tame in comparison.  The Captain saw fit to have me look after her children," he said with a slightly unamused look to his face.  "I'm not sure where she thought that I would be good at it but it turned out to be interesting anyways.  This was before I had made my feelings known in no uncertain terms to my beloved.  She came with me as I took the twins down to the holodeck..."  Brent relayed the story of how they had taken the twins to the forest program, letting them run around, get soaking wet...  Even the part where he had managed to cannon ball into the lake, causing his beloved to burst out into laughter.  Brent smirked at the end of the story.  "That is quite tame in comparison.  My dear we should make it a point to go start fights in a bar some place."


It was quite a sight, the speed with which the young healer answered the request, surging through the water like a small yacht under full sails. Though V'Ley kept an eye on the Marine tending to her patient – and he was doing rather well, for one not trained to her profession – she could find no reason to inundate the young T'sai with attention. For one in her current state, she looked remarkably … at peace, to be certain.  Picking fruit of the offered plate with long, slender fingers she would have been the image of a priestess of Gol leading a ceremony if not for the unsettling intensity of the dark eyes, and the lines of emerald crisscrossing her body. Even the cloth traversing her skin in gentle, near reverent motions barely elicited more than a thoughtful look here and there. True, a Vulcan can hide a great deal of pain from others, even their own kind. But not from one trained to look for such things, recognize even the subtlest sign. 

She showed none. None at all.



After a small amount of splashing and milling about, the little healer had managed to settle behind the Marine and subject his shoulder to a critical look. Well now, if those two were any indication the margin by which the planet had escaped disaster was likely more narrow than people knew. Sands and Seas. One could hope the Sundered were not minded to attempt any such thing again soon, though V'Ley strongly doubted their lust for war was in any way diminished. It was, after all, in their blood as surely as it was in hers. Only without anything to temper it. How they had managed to not destroy themselves was a mystery to the young healer, but then again while there were other foes to cheerfully wage war on there was no need to turn all that violent energy to your own kind. Only some of it, for no battle is more satisfying or heated than the one fought with your neighbor.


"Routinely? You will have your jest, ashal-veh." As unperturbed as if her beloved had not just suggested highly inappropriate behavior in semi-public, Sakarra raised an indulgent brow at T'Para's obvious attempt to not … snicker. "I will admit at the mentioned instance I allowed my … temper to get the better of me. Aided in no small part by Aldebaran whiskey. However, aside from mentioned Klingon who I daresay did not begrudge me the numerous bruises after all, I was fortunate enough and did no lasting harm. Well, aside from the market stall with melons which I fear was beyond saving."

"Ah, Ktarian melons, yes?"

"Even so."


Having found the spiced bread to be more than just agreeable, T'Para had begun to inflict heavy casualties on the plate and stopped only briefly to make the young healer blush again at hearing a Vulcan chuckle outright "A bath with the children of your S'thora, Brent Warren? I can see now part of your reference to … cold water being an enduring theme, though I suspect there are some things left untold. And I should mention your beloved never has been known to start a fight. Finish one …" the amused twinkle in deep grey eyes held a thoughtful, if not slightly … dangerous shimmer "… she will."


Again Brent felt the skilled hands of the healer begin to work on the pain that he had discovered had returned with a vengeance. Once again he smiled as the healer worked her magic over the injured shoulder. He again had the urge to thump his leg like a dog, the warm soothing feeling of the healers hands stopping the pain he was feeling. He let out a breath before he redoubled his efforts to help Sakarra, his attention no longer distracted from the pain coming from his left shoulder. He idly wondered how long it had taken the healer to learn that. If it wasn't very long he might ask that both he and Sakarra learn it, so that in moments where the other was injured they could perform it to one another. However if it felt this good, Brent figured that it took some time of training and practice, and maybe even meant you couldn't eat meat anymore. Hell with that.

"So I've noticed. Just when it seems that I have gotten the upper hand I find her around the corner the next day looking to turn the tables on me," he said with a smirk. "Of course that only makes me want to respond in kind to her... And so the endless cycle continues on..." he said a slow smile before he examined Sakarra's wounds and nodded with satisfaction. "I'm afraid I can't do much more for you my dear. You'll need someone with skill to help you out from here."


"Ma'ht wliarr-eshel, Brent Warren." Kicking back her legs in the large pool fed by the monastery's famed mineral springs, T'Para took to paddling in what qualified as an outright exuberant manner – but it was her low, husky laughter that made poor little V'Ley look on in exasperation. Oh, what might the human think… not that he seemed at all stunned, or taken aback. Still, telling the man in so many words that he was a 'hoot' or 'riot' … the healer began to wonder if her eartips might ever return to normal any time soon.

"Though I am certain the constant turning of furniture is in this case a delightful activity. Ah, ohassu. R'hi wloay'lha yhar-kutor. As much as I would be content to remain right here until this one is ready to seek out the world, we have tormented my cousin enough, yes?"

Not that Sakarra seemed at all discomfited as T'Para duly noted, though the water and most of all the herbs had to sting like a myriad of sand grains blasting against her wounds. If anything, she looked … relaxed. Even leaning against her mate in a light, subtle manner that did not impede the healer's efforts. Up until now she had believed the … heritage some few of her House had to endure to be a mighty inconvenience, but apparently there were merits to it as well.


"Ha, t'naeh'ru. Nam-tor i'wak rayeh." Making sure with one more almost leisurely push of small thumbs that the towering Marine would not feel any pain for hours even if he decided to jump any more roofs, V'Ley paddled around his imposing frame to look over her patient and nod in approval. He had done well, and if they could persuade the T'sai to take sufficient nutrients it might not even be necessary to employ any of the modern technology always on hand for the more serious cases. A slower recovery that would enable the Vulcan physique to make a learning experience of it was always preferable, unless urgent circumstances or undue suffering dictated otherwise. In a dire emergency the knowledge and control gained over one's own physical functions might be the one thing that tipped the balance, as few knew better than the woman sitting here alive and breathing.

"May I ask you to attend once more, Brent Warren? We shall return the T'sai to her room where Sejet may see to the disruptor wound."

"Kup im'rahe nay-veh, ohassu."

"Ha, T'sai. However, I shall prefer you did not walk just yet."


Brent nodded once to the healer, then looking back to Sakarra as he tilted his head ever so slightly.  "Come now. You have been through a lot my dear. If anyone deserves a little break right now it is you," he said as he exited out of the bath to dry himself off. After only a few moments Brent found himself clothed with his boots back on, just as Sakarra exited the bath. He helped make sure she was dry carefully, not touching her wounds any more than he had to, before wrapping another sheet around her. However instead of simply letting her be after that he leaned down and in one fell swoop scooped her up off of her feet. He smirked at her as she turned to look at him, figuring that one of her glares was coming he spoke up in the hopes of avoiding it.




[To be continued …]


Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax

Executive Officer


Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander



USS Charon