A Mission Post by Lieutenant Commander Jin Rha-Yaleii
Mission: Coil of Darkness
Location: Vulcan
Timeline: some days prior to the Romulan delegation leaving ch'Rihan
~ The little villa's gardens, shores of Thanar ~
"Uncle Sovar!" unbalanced as he was, the soft impact of the child jumping against his chest nearly sent him staggering but he caught himself and the little girl with a quick twist, quirking an indulgent brow at the enthusiastic greeting. "My lady Salaran. It is most agreeable to see you."
"And you." She didn't even bother to feign seriousness, for all the formality of her statement, and proceeded to twine a strand of his hair around her little fingers "Sa'mëkho made cake!"
"So I have seen." Rather difficult not to, in fact.
"He says m'aih is eating like a flanarian bird again. Do flanarian birds eat chocolate cake?"
"I am unfamiliar with the diet of Betazoid birds, my lady."
Salaran snorted in amusement and squirmed until she was more comfortably settled against the tall Vulcan's hard chest, her trusting arms flung around his neck. Somewhere deep, the millstone bled another drop of emerald.
"By and large, they stick their pesky beaks into everything, so you may have a Vulcan point in that the metaphor is limping" the kindly voice, only grown deeper and a little rougher with age, sounded behind them and Sovar moved to allow the elder Betazoid and the tray with tea to precede him into the garden.
"Limping?" Nveid's mouth twitched as he rose to his feet and helped his grandfather with the pretty earthenware cups.
"It gets you there, but it isn't the most elegant."
"Ah." Nveid seemed to ponder this for a moment "A metaphor to describe the accuracy of a metaphor? Or rather, a simile in this case. Do you think it might be possible to expand on this to the point of inversion?"
"Might. But you keep this up, you'll debate Vulcan metaphysicists into the ground. No Warya, no uttaberries. You know they give you gas."
"Wrf. Rr."
"Ah, no." the young Rihanha poured the tea for his mother with absentminded grace, answering her affectionate wink with one of his own "I'd rather not, grandfather. It's bad enough when m'aih ties my brain into knots with Kiri-kin-tha's axioms."
"Nothing unreal exists." Salaran cited earnestly from her perch on the tall Vulcan's arm, earning herself an approving nod. And if Rel picked up on a brief moment of shared amusement between Sovar and the little girl's mother, and a pang of melancholy from the former, he wasn't going to mention it. "You children want to help me with the pizza dough? Uncle Sovar has that serious look on his face and I could use some extra hands sifting that muuplo."
"Pizza!" the little girl seemed torn between helping sa'mëkho and her comfortable position on the arm of one of her favorite people, but in the end the prospect of fresh Terran tomatoes won out. "You'll stay for dinner, dho'nïkh. Say yes."
"I should be honored, my lady. However-"
"Don't worry. M'aih won't throw you in the rishtik. She's actually happy to see you. You can put me down now."
"Of course, my lady."
Another giggle and she was gone like a whirl of sunlight, calling out for her brother to follow. As well she knew he would.
"Ş`akh-hára" He pronounced her name in the liquid, lilting cadence of her home province, the shades and layers of meaning imprinted in every syllable. It made her velvety brows climb by no small margin, even as she gently wrapped the lyre in a length of fine-spun cloth to protect the exquisite wood from the sun and Thanar's humidity.
"U`nhëndarr dhũ, Ãshov-ahrũ. Fa'hwákh nukaýu, ha."
"Ah. Indeed." Bereft of Salaran's weight he had stood, for all intent and purpose, like a misplaced parcel in the middle of the path "So I shall. I am gratified to find you well, t'sai."
"And why should I not be?" she watched him approach with the careless grace that was as familiar to her as his dark hair and the impassive face. Implacable, some might deem it, and many had called it so. Yet to Sakarra he had always had a subtle air of mischief around him; a dangerous rogue wearing the mask of a respectable Vulcan, and wearing it well. Just a little too well, perhaps.
The fact that he once more eyed her as one might a volatile explosive as he cautiously sat on the couch next to her nearly prompted an outright little smirk.
"I am told the esteemed councilwoman finds your service … satisfactory. At least she has this far neglected to issue any acerbic remarks as she did concerning your predecessors."
"Sovar."
Uh-oh. "Yes, my lady."
"I find myself reconsidering the option of rishtik shrubs. Speak plainly, will you?"
It almost hurt to look at her. Sand and stone, he should be used to it; but no. When she stared at him like that, deep black eyes alight with righteous annoyance in a delicate face dappled by spots of sunlight … "Forgive me, t'sai. You have been privy to the reason for V'Les' unscheduled departure from Earth?"
Sakarra's soft exhale might have qualified for a sigh in another species, but she gave a brief nod and picked up her tea "Yes. Though I didn't inquire about any details, it was difficult not to notice the councilwoman strongly disagreed with President Sa'vak over the matter of a summit with the Rihannsu Shiar'Fvillha." To put it mildly. Oh, to anyone else it had been a most logical debate. To other Vulcans however, the subtle barbs and icy rebukes couched in reason had cut like le-matya fangs.
"The lady does tend to be … opinionated." Sovar's eloquently quirked brow conveyed that he found this another understatement.
"So she does," Sakarra agreed "but all the same she is not alone in her assessment, and duty bound to present her concerns on behalf of the planetary council. It is they who recalled her, to discuss a reasonable response to Sa'vak's decision; she did not leave in protest as some news sources would claim. But you know this."
What Sovar knew was that he would happily have spent a lifetime discussing politics with her in the sunlit, fragrant garden, watching her nose wrinkle in disdain, watching a strand of sable hair tumble over her shoulder at an impatient headshake, watching her lively nature shine like the wind stirring a deep lake's placid surface to give you a glimpse of what lay beneath.
"I do."
"Sovar."
He estimated he had roughly two point three three seconds before he would be picking thorns out of his uniform. "Ahaefvthe will travel on board Battlequeen."
If he had expected her face to turn to marble, or the elegant slanted brows to furrow in a frown, he would have been wrong, and indeed he had not. But he had not quite expected the sudden thoughtful stillness, either. The kind of stillness that told him for the space of a few heartbeats, she had gone somewhere deep inside herself.
"A reasonable choice."
"The Agency believes it may be that the Shiar'Fvillha's choice is due to the EnRiov's … familiarity with the Federation."
"Hardly, I should think."
"Is this your considered assessment?"
There was no mistaking the raised brow for aught but amused tolerance. "Oh, I've no doubt t`Ahaefvthe considers it a factor at least. You are asking in an official capacity I take it?"
"Hardly." This time it was Sovar who shook his head in what could almost – almost – be amusement. Even if the High Director considered a V'Ket Subcommander the planet's foremost expert on Shiarrael t`Rehu, which likely he did, Sutok also had experience with said little V'Ket's reactions to being toyed with. While the results tended to be interesting at least, the High Director was not the type to poke a dozing le-sahriy without due cause. "If he desires your evaluation, I am certain he will request it personally."
"Noted." Sakarra sipped at her tea, a deeply contemplative light in her black eyes.
Battlequeen.
If ever a ship and its mistress were well suited to one another, it had to be Shiarrael t`Rehu and the IRW Hhveir Ri'hwathech.
"Am I to understand then you came to personally inform me in order to-"
"Earn forgiveness? No, my lady. But perhaps to acknowledge I have been wrong, and to let you know I am resolved to not repeat my mistake."
"'Tis hardly the same, Sovar. But I appreciate the gesture, and moreso the spirit in which it's offered. Not that you haven't been forgiven long ago."
'I should have known that,' he thought. 'If I had listened to myself, I would have known. If I had allowed myself to remember you as you were, as you are, the maddening wild sprite in the desert, the mischievous girl, the determined woman, the independent one, the unpredictable one, the infuriatingly self-possessed one with the heart as wide and open as space, who stole mine all those years ago and never gave it back … I'd have known.'
What he said was "I am gratified, my lady."
~End log ~
Subcommander Sakarra
V'Ket
Sovar
V'Shar
&
Nveid
Salaran
Rel Tyrax
-------
M'aih – (informal) - mother, mom.
Sa'mëkho – (Nel-Gathelkh – informal) – grandpa
Dho'nïkh – (Nel-Gathelkh – informal) – uncle/aunt, but also generic term for older family members. Lit. elder cousin
U`nhëndarr dhũ – (Nel-Gathelk) – Hello to you, too {lit. As-greets-you-(this one)}
Fa'hwákh nukaýu, ha – (Nel-Gathelk) – Are you going to sit down? {lit. Will-sit-down (you), yes}
Nel-Gathelk / Nel-Gathic - Vulcan dialect, nearly extinct and spoken only in certain regions of Kir province. Similar to Terran Basque its ancient form is a language isolate, the modern formal variant has borrowed enough from common Golic to render it merely difficult, but not impossible to understand for other Vulcans.
By way of comparison: Think Oxford English vs a heavy Scottish burr, with the odd bit of Gaelic non-sequiturs thrown in.
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