Romulan Empire Log | "Dimness" | Arrenhe t`Ahaefvthe, Lwanissa Tyrax
Coil of Darkness
Location: IRW Hhveir Ri'hwathech
[IRW Hhveir Ri'hwathech]
Shiarrael was always one for fanciful notions…but this? Imin glared at the woman in front of him. This Betazoid witch the soon-to-be Galae’EnRiov wanted to subject the Praetor to- the idea was asinine. He had protested but as always when it came to his opinions the EnRiov was content to brush them off as hyperbole. We’ll see, if this sorceress turns our Praetor’s mind into a primordial goop. he thought wryly.
“We are here.” Raha announced while looking questioningly at the gloom faced Imin “Doctor, you seem a bit pale. Perhaps you are a bit ill?” She licked her lips and jerked her thumb at the Rei’Krannsu guarding the doorway “we need some privacy. EnRiov’s orders.”
“We do not work for the EnRiov.”
“Then you can tell that to her- and fly home after she throws your ass out of an airlock. If you insist I will oblige…” She pressed her commbadge “Raha to t’Rehu the…”
“-enough. We’ll give you ten minutes. If anything happens to the Praetor…”
“Yes, yes, you will have my head. So be it.” She nodded at Imin and the Betazoid leading them into the dim room.
Lwanissa couldn’t help it. Sad and terrible and upsetting as the whole affair was, she hadn’t had an adventure like this since Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet. Unless you counted the Berq wedding. Speaking of weddings, the fidgeting doctor had some rather interesting vibes. Perhaps … ah, little ‘Kara would probably just give her another Look. Pity.
She strode after pretty Raha with the even more interesting vibes, offering magnanimous waves to the few crewmembers they encountered. All of whom looked askance at the Betazoid in her flowing, peach-colored dress escorted by the ship’s doctor and security officer. Ah, more of the adorable darkly dressed people. Which made Raha’s announcement a bit superfluous, though it was a nice gesture. And of course being this close, the poor Praetor’s migraine was now a near tangible thing, inserting itself into the stream of white noise like a serrated blade. Though ‘white’ noise was putting a polite name to the energetic, volatile, abundantly colorful vibes that still crashed against Lwanissa’s senses from every direction. Such a lively people. Lwanissa would have found it charming in the extreme, if the poor dears weren’t so unsettled by a perfectly friendly empath.
Airlock? Something tugged at the Betazoid lady’s memory, some fanciful tale of a temperamental Romulan Captain and something involving airlocks and underwear … but then the two men in black moved aside after transmitting the by now familiar silent ‘argh’, looking almost as sheepish as their colleagues who had gotten themselves stuck with a Betazoid, and the doors slid open.
“Well dears, since something already has happened to your sweet Praetor, the threat seems a bit excessive. But we take your meaning.” Dismissing the Rei’Krannsu with an amicable wave of her fan, Lwanissa floated across the threshold with the utter certainty of the well-bred that they are at home anywhere they decide to be; and be it a dimly lit, well appointed room on board a Romulan flagship.
The sensation of grogginess and a massive headache intensified, and Lwanissa’s innate aversion to such suffering led her towards the shadowy figure huddled beneath a window.
“Lwanissa Tyrax, Daughter of the Twelfth House.” If pretty Raha was surprised how soft and low the exuberant Betazoid’s voice could sound when she decided so, Lwanissa didn’t notice. “I am terribly sorry about the impromptu visit.”
Yes, definitely something … oh, my.
Arrenhe slowly rose from her drug induced stupor and placed her emerald gaze squarely on the Betazoid’s light framed silhouette at the doorway. “The light…” She winced and turned away until the door closed behind the trio. Turning back, she frowned “why are you here? You are…” The words dried in her throat as she recoiled suddenly and pressed fingers into her temples “ooh…this…”
Imin rushed to her “the drugs are wearing; we will need to…”
His hand was suddenly pulled into the air by Raha’s grip. The erie’Riov shook her head at the doctor “the EnRiov has spoken Imin. No more drugs.”
The Praetor suddenly calmed and looked at Lwanissa “did T’Leia send you?”
“No, but I sincerely hope old Sobersides asked for your leave to park himself in your head before doing so, else he’ll wish he’d never have had a Katra to misplace when she finds out.” Shaking her head, the Betazoid gently nudged the fussy doctor out of the way; and it was oh so difficult to stop her lips from twitching when the sensation of a Vulcan transmitting the equivalent of ‘argh’ brushed across her mind.
This was bad. The gorgeous Praetor didn’t seem to know what was happening, but the brief emergence of an all too familiar vibe had been enough. That low, fiercely contained hum of a powerful mind pulled into a tight coil, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible and succeeding about as well as a sehlat in a china shop. Not good.
And the drugs probably hadn’t helped either, though Lwanissa was far from an expert on vivacious Romulans and their little quirks.
“Your EnRiov is quite right, doctor,” the tall Betazoid lady addressed Imin over her shoulder, “your drugs won’t work anyways. The lovely lady Praetor seems to be having an allergic reaction to a Vulcan – not that I can blame her, the darlings can have that effect even without trying.”
Lwanissa sighed. This was going to be … political. Meaning, about as much fun as falling into a mud pit with a disgruntled fogcat.
“Miss Praetor… what’s your name anyways? I can’t for the life of me pronounce the Aha part, at least not without hurting myself. You may call me Lwanissa, or Nissa if you like. Anyways, do you remember touching old Sa’vak before he died? Perhaps a strange sensation, like … oh, I don’t know, being run over by a sehlat?” not that she had any idea what it was like, nor the slightest inclination to find out. But one thing about having pointy ears in the family was you picked up a thing or two over the years, and so Lwanissa could venture a fair guess.
“Touch…” Arrenhe groaned and massaged her temples again “there was a brief moment…” Her eyes widened as realization manifested and was absorbed into the logic that now hovered in her mind like some thick unending fog “I have been violat…” her voice trailed off into strange utterances. Finally she stopped and stared at the Betazoid “you must…get it out of me…”
“That’s easier said than done I fear, Miss Praetor.” Lwanissa racked her brain for what sweet T’Sora and little ‘Kara might have mentioned about Katras and the transfer of such (fall-tour something?), all the while gently fussing over the beautiful lady, with the kind but decisive air of a great-auntie whose little darling has fallen out of a tree. Again. She managed to steer the lovely thing to a comfy looking chair and waved her fan at the fidgety male “Doctor Imin dear, would you see about some tea for the lady? And perhaps some sweets, somewhat to munch on, she looks awfully pale.” When in doubt, do normal things. As a survivor of the Dominion occupation of Betazed, Lwanissa knew well the bracing effect of simple, familiar rituals when your world came crashing down around you.
“Now,” smoothing down her silken dress, the Betazoid lady pulled over what looked like a small footstool and sat down in a billow of skirts “I don’t think he meant to cause you all that trouble, Miss Praetor. You might have had a misunderstanding, which happens quite a bit with stubborn, not quite so logical as they pretend beings, but the old boy must have sensed something about you that made him trust you. Trust you with nothing less than his whole, annoying self.”
In fairness, Lwanissa was curious. For a species who couldn’t imagine what it was like not to feel other people with your innermost self – and didn’t want to, either – such closeness with a usually so reserved race was … rare. Interesting. Tempting. Too bad she didn’t think it was as easy as simply telling old Sa’vak to jump ship and use a willing Betazoid as lifeboat.
“Don’t you worry though, Miss. I may not know a great deal, but I do know this is not meant to be a permanent solution. You’re … a Keeper. It’s a grave and honorable trust for a Vulcan, and a Deities-cursed nuisance for most other people I’m sure, but once we have you on their dustball of a planet they’ll get him off your back – or head, as it were – in no time.”
Lwanissa gave the gorgeous lady’s sleeve a reassuring pat “But until then I do suggest you go easy on the sedatives and just swat the Vulcan across the nose if he gets too lively in there. A firm ‘Kroykah’ does wonders, too. Unless you feel like talking to him and giving him a piece of your mind, which I’d certainly understand, but in your condition right now that might just make the migraine worse.”
"Heh." The Praetor whispered a slight chuckle of wry amusement as she settled her head against the pillow. Her mind swam with thoughts that were not her own- an foreign invasion. It was like being a minnow in a school of fish. Endlessly overtaken and lost. "This invader..." She laughed against "my reactions are not logical...my emotions...they hinder my ability to rationalize this situation..."
“They do have a way of doing that, don’t they?” Lwanissa said mildly.
Not good. Not good at all.
“Raha dear, how fast do you think your little ship can make it to Vulcan? I’d be able to call in some favors I’m sure, but I’d rather not have the sweet lady moved about when there’s no pressing need. And your pretty commander seemed a bit put out by the idea of this being gossiped about.”
Lwanissa absentmindedly patted the Praetor’s sleeve again, wondering if she should … no, for all she knew giving the old boy a telepathic swat might only make the poor woman’s headache worse. But … “Oh, and if you’d like I can make a few discreet calls once we’re in comm range – a Romulan ship parking itself over Mount Seleya might not go over so well with the V’Ket these days, bless their hearts. Fortunately for you I happen to know one or two who can help with that.” Offering her most reassuring smile, Lwanissa quickly banished the thought of Vulcans getting jumpy over a big warbird barreling hell for leather towards their home. “On that note, how’s that tea coming?”
"Vulcan?" Raha looked at Imin who turned away from her- his way of voicing his displeasure at her. The ships security officer frowned "it would be quite the detour...very noticed. Not something Riov Yhisu would prefer i'd imagine..."
"Is it the only way?" Imin finally spoke.
“Well, unless you’re hiding a Seleya-trained adept somewhere under your uniform – which they’d hardly stand for I imagine, but then you never know with … hush, Sa’vak. I’m trying to … oh? Yes, well, now kindly go back to making yourself small, the pretty lady has had quite enough of … there’s a good Vulcan. What was I saying?” feeling the beginnings of a migraine herself, Lwanissa absentmindedly rubbed her temples in an almost comical mirror image of the Praetor’s exasperated gesture. Nothing worse than a pointy ear eager to be helpful after making a mess of things.
“Ah. Right. Yes, I’m afraid so, dear.” Prickly as he was, the handsome doctor looked honestly concerned. Alas, there was nothing for it. “Unless you want to broadcast this little mishap to the entire quadrant by asking around for … whatever the Vulcan word for Katra-specialists is, and good luck finding one this far out, their big ball of sand is your best – I said hush, Sa’vak! By the Great Fire, I know there’s trees and such … T’Shen? Oh well, it could be worse I guess. Yes, I’ll tell them. Now shoo.”
For a mercy, Lwanissa sensed the old boy pulling back, properly chastised for the moment. And about time it was, too, with the lovely lady taking on a slightly olive-ish hue around her aristocratic nose. “There now, Miss Praetor. Think Romulan thoughts. That’s the ticket. Anyways, if Miss Yeezoo doesn’t like the idea of big fanfare at Seleya – which I can certainly understand, splendid as the place is, it’s a veritable oven – old Sobersides seems to think the darlings at T’Shen can help. And I can personally vouch for them being discreet. You might even make an outing of it, they have this lovely little lake there … ah, I guess not.” The stunning girl Raha’s emotional aura flickered briefly, sending some “why me?” along with the Romulan equivalent of “yegawds” through the clamor surrounding the Betazoid, before the kaleidoscope of noise closed in again.
Lwanissa could certainly relate to the sentiment.
“Look on the bright side, Miss Raha. Detours are what make life interesting. And just imagine the faces of those Vulcans when they realize who is bringing the old boy’s Katra home.”
“I don’t pretend to understand this Vulcan…magic.” Raha said “but if will exasperate our annoying cousins I will not mind such an occurrence.” She smirked. “Though, the good EnRiov will have to settle affairs on Earth before we can leave and I’m certain things will soon become quite complicated. Even if they don’t shit on your floor people still do not appreciate it when you sneak a flock of hlai through their house.”
“I would imagine not.” Imin tersely answered “and what a crude expression.”
“No magic, dear.” Lwanissa said good-naturedly, and since the handsome young doctor looked about as lost as a theocondt on a roof, decided to take matters and command of the situation into her own capable hands. Which meant at the moment, locating a washbasin and a towel, and … ah, there. “Though I suppose one could make the case that they are by nature magical creatures. Well, in the cryptic sense at least. And some precious few in the enchanting one. Here we are, Miss Praetor.” She gently draped the dampened towel over the lovely creature’s forehead and returned her night-black gaze to Raha “And I won’t pretend to understand what hlai are, or why you would sneak the poor things through a house. But do kindly tell your darling EnRiov to not shop around for souvenirs – your Praetor is in a very real sense stuck in a small room with an overbearing Vulcan and she’s not liking it any better than you would I daresay.”
A pity the good lady didn’t seem inclined to have some fun with the situation, and if it was only to take the opportunity to swat a Vulcan across the nose. Repeatedly. Mayhap she simply didn’t know how? Mind-blind races could be … confusing. Hard to imagine these pretty, lively creatures were actually related to those walking warp-cores with pointy ears.
"We will leave you to your business." Raha grabbed Imin by the arm and with a certain lack of grace dragged the good doctor out.
“Well, Miss Praetor. Looks like it’s just you and me, then.” Trying her very best not to chuckle at handsome Imin’s scandalized expression at being practically jostled out of the room, Lwanissa stuck her head out of the door to wave at the darlings in black hovering nearby. Since she seemed stuck with the duty of looking after a head of state with a Vulcan allergy, she might as well see that the lady got some tea.
[to be continued…]
Lady Lwanissa Tyrax, Daughter of the Twelfth House
Senior Diplomatic Aide to Ambassador Extraordinaire Yulana Enaren, Daughter of the Fourth House
(additional titles omitted for the sake of not writing a minor novella. Kindly direct complaints to the Gorn embassy on Efros Delta).
Raha - CSEC
Imin – CMO
& some vexed Rei`Krannsu
IRW Hhveir Ri'hwathech