Friday, November 19, 2010

[USS Charon] SD241011.19 || Joint Log "The Bright and the Dark" Part VI || 1st Lt Brent Warren, LtCmdr Sakarra Tyrax

=/\=  Sas-a-Shar (The Forge), near the Plains of Blood =/\=

8th Day in the month of T'lakht, YS 9022


"Oh no my dear. You are stuck with me," he said with a smile, his voice beginning to get back some of that original zeal. "We are all capable of things if pushed for too long or if we are endangered.  What truly is our measure is how we deal with ourselves and others after the dust has settled and we are after the moment," he paused thinking back to everything that he had thought of while he was in the middle of his own rage. "Then don't think of him at your mercy. Do not beat yourself up over what may have happened. Over what could have been. Even if you are 100% certain that it would happen that way my dear, it did not. We stopped him, he is dead by my hand. You are free my love, you are on the mend." Brent brought her face up so that she would look at him. "What happens in the future will happen in its own time. Dwelling on what might have happened in the past is no way to live a life. You work towards the next challenge and we enjoy the life we have."


"Brent Warren, I swear if you quote me Sa'atel one more time I shall get up and march you to Shir'Kahr right now to have your DNA examined. Though you lost somewhat in translation there."

She couldn't help it. His smile was as infectious as the passion twinkling in his eyes, the timbre of his deep, soothing voice. Slowly, like the sun rising over Kir, a smile dawned on her face, and there was a touch of the good humor back in her lambent black eyes.

Free. On the mend.


Somewhere far off, a Le-Matya's plaintive call sounded into the night and Sakarra exhaled, reaching for her beloved's face with tender fingertips.

Live. Die. Patterns in the sand, ever shifting, ever changing, ever the same.

You. Me.

It was enough.


"I assume you have seen more of my homeworld by now than you ever wished, no?" it was a good-natured barb, owing to the fact this was not precisely a place Brent might have chosen by his own volition. And if she could have loved him any more than she did, she would have for marching into it without a second's hesitation.


"Really. Because I was trying to quote Cicero. 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.'  Who would have ever thought that realpolitik Rome would have so much in common with Vulcan philosophy," he said teasing her ever so slightly. When she mentioned that he would have never come here on his own he grunted ever so slightly before nodding his head. "Let's just say that when I have a crisis of this magnitude, I will be going to a cold climate for you to come find me at my beloved," he responded with a smirk. "How are your injuries? I know you came out her all on your own but if you're still injured I can carry you back there just now," he said figuring she would tell him no and he would insist only to be told no again. "I would ask that we leave now, as the climbing now wouldn't be nearly as bad as what I went through getting here." As if on cue he brought the small tube that connected to the water pack he had and took a long drink.


"Carry me?" even in the darkness, her wrinkled nose was clearly visible. Ah, this male was thoroughly impossible. Hauled off like a tsh'in after the hunt? What next, feed her like an invalid?

"I think not." No, she was well and truly tired of being handled like either a frail little thing or a weak, beaten creature incapable of even the simple act of walking. She had endured the indignity at the monastery, not wishing to waste energy with a fight that she would win, but have to repeat over and over. Here of all places, if you were not fit to survive, you deserved to perish.

Carry her.

Oh, no.


The Sehlat's furry ears twitched with merriment and he yawned, approving of the renewed liveliness of his friend's voice. Not that he would have minded a nice long nap, but traveling at night was preferable. Even though there were all kinds of annoying creatures about. The large cub looked as if he could make any predator sorry for thinking him a savory meal, and after all was said and done they were a decent sized pack now. Well, their smallest member was bleeding again and infusing the air with the alluring scent of copper, but that, too, was just one of the things that happened from time to time and you dealt with it as best you could. If the male wanted to take his mate back to the den, Warya was all for it. He might have to bite her neck though to get her to go along. Or whatever his species did to convince a pack leader they want to take over.


"My injuries are a nuisance, but hardly debilitating." As if to prove her point, Sakarra rose with a swift and fluid motion and the darkness mercifully hid the brief frown of pain. It was getting easier to control it, though that rib which had been fractured, mended, and shattered again would remain a bother for quite a while.


"You do know that even I can smell that blood in the air now right?" he said looking at her nonplussed about the entire idea of her walking back on her own. He sighed and shook his head, standing close to her again one last time before he gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Yes dear," he replied simply not quite believing what she said but at the same time not wanting to further the debate any longer. Since they were bonded and very close together, Brent was fairly certain that she could pick up the fact that he believed she was utterly wrong here and should acquiesce to what he had proposed. Perhaps later when her recovery was delayed because of this he could simply smile at her and she would know what he meant. 

"You are the one with experience here my love. Lead the way and I will follow" he said motioning at the path in which he had come up.


"Even so." With a small tilt of her head, Sakarra took in the plains below. No moving shadow, no disturbance of the all encompassing stillness escaped the senses of a species built for hunting at night. Crossing the Plains of Blood during the heat of day was foolish. At night, it was merely … dangerous. But it would be a considerable shortcut. Especially if they planned to reach the foothills of Llangon before midday – and that was not counting any stops along the way.


Wrong. Perhaps she was. But if she could not traverse her ancestral home by herself any more, she might as well sit down and be useful by becoming a wholesome snack for a predator's cubs.

Delay her recovery. Well and so, it might stress her body, but where the Vulcan mind goes, the body will follow. If the former was well, the latter would inevitably be. She needed to know. Needed to be certain. He was here, had given her that last nudge to face the dark mirror, and caught her before she could get too entangled in the spiral that was even now tugging at her mind.

But she was not yet … there. In balance. At peace.

Feeling, feeling her surroundings, the life and yes, the death, she breathed along with the clear nightly air, knowing it in her blood like she knew … herself.

Her proud, elegant profile outlined by starlight, Sakarra stood perfectly still.

There. Yes.


Without a second's thought, she stepped over the ledge and fell into the shadows. No rock, no outcropping had been visible from where she had been standing but she landed on it all the same, safely as if she had merely walked out of her quarters for a stroll to Eris deck.

"I assume you would prefer to not spend another full day here, yes? Oh, and kindly nudge Warya's behind, he is terrible at heights."


Brent frowned and turned back to the large cub like creature before he moved over gently behind it.  It was apparently afraid of heights. So afraid that it hadn't noticed Brent's foot placed against its rear end to push it down off of the cliff. He moved down shortly there after, sliding down the cliff where he could and jumping where he thought it possible. "How did he get to be so damn big if he's afraid of heights like that," Brent said looking at the beast as the two of them traversed the landscape with their fuzzy companion.

As they travelled Brent realized that he had not completely told Sakarra the truth about who all was at the monastery. "You should probably also know my love, that it wasn't just your father that was there at the monastery when I came back. Your grandmother, and a gaggle of other Betazoids were also there as well, making a great deal of noise and generally carrying on cranky."


Warya's startled rumble was loud enough to make even the last inhabitant of these parts aware that there was a rather large Sehlat about, though his plaintive mewling when the massive paws finally found purchase on the treacherous rock could have been mistaken for an oversized cub complaining about a fruit out of reach. Still, he trusted the large biped had a damned good reason for shoving his furry behind over the ledge and if he knew his little Vulcan at all, she had been the instigator. Well, at least she scratched him behind the ears for all that he had been made to slide down twenty meters of sharp rock that even bruised something as fluffy as him.



=/\= To be continued … =/\=


Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax

Executive Officer


Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander


USS Charon