Joint Duty Log | Capt Ivanova Cmdr PontBrillant - "La Vie En Rose"

Posted on Sun Aug 17th, 2014 @ 7:45pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Vlimar PontBrillant

2,671 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: In the Dark

Time... It ticked idly by, stealing from her life it's precious seconds and minutes -- each turning past with nothing more than a sigh for warning. She'd danced, she'd laughed, she'd entertained. She'd had her heart to hearts and seen the humanity of a young Commander trying to step out from under the shadows his pretty brass parents cast over him. Rochelle had lived and learned more than most at her young age. She'd known love and loss, heartache and triumph -- and now she sat astride a throne that seemed so fitting even if the means of reaching it were bitter and cruel. Now the night began to wind to an end, promising her the chance for sleep as Almar had offered earlier -- and she'd taken it, albeit gingerly. It meant trusting him implicitly, allowing him to be near during her most vulnerable -- more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her, even in the moments after being freed from the infirmary.

She strolled the length of the room, keeping to the low lights as she did, hoping to coast under the radar of those who were still desperate to steal her away for additional turns, as if each spin and twirl would bring them one step closer to currying her favor. If anything, it merely left her dizzy. And then there was PontBrillant, he posed an obstacle between her and the Cardassian she sought, a piece of resistance she would need to meet head on. "I see your date left you to fend for yourself." She offered him an almost shy smile.

Vlimar, who was then sitting alone at the bar, enjoying a nicely made Old Fashioned, turns his head to the woman. He smiled softly and motioned the empty stool next to him. "Care to fill in?", he asked, smirking. He promptly waved at the bartender for his attention, as his drink was coming to its end and that the woman, who had been drinking the same champagne all night, a question of not embarrassing her guests, most likely, would probably appreciate something refreshing, something different.

"I don't see why not." She replied, somehow managing to navigate a bar stool in a ball gown. The corset of her bodice didn't give her much choice but to sit tall, much to her chagrin. At least, she thought, she'd look the part of the proper Captain. Setting her champagne flute down, she simply smiled at the waiter, "I'll just take a glass of water.", it would be her second since Admiral Archer's pugnacious son had brought her a glass out on the patio. "Secret?" She said, her attention turning to Vlimar, "I'm not much for alcohol. A glass of wine every once in awhile, maybe, but I never drown myself in a bottle."

Vlimar nodded, looking at his glass. He already had a few, but his recent endeavor with wine making made him even more tolerant that he used to be, and that's coming from a Intelligence Operative, which should say a lot. "I, unfortunately, developed a taste of it. Love wine, adore scotch and whiskey. My weakness.", he said. "Obviously, in moderation...", he carefully added, not wanting to give the wrong impression. He then set the glass on the table and completely turned his body to face the woman in front of him. "I just realized that I did not have a chance to dance with the queen of the ball", he said.

"Everything in moderation." She nodded in response, understanding exactly where the Frenchman was coming from when he spoke. Rochelle was slowly beginning to settle into her newest conversation, the bar tender returning with her water and her fingers closing around the coolness of her glass, when the salt and pepper haired man suddenly turned to her. She took notice, watching him with her usual wary nature until he spoke and she languidly turned to face him. "No, I suppose you haven't" The Captain smiled, releasing her glass and offering him her hand. "Everything in moderation, right?"

Vlimar smiled. He grabbed her hand and lead her towards the dance floor. At the time, the band had finished their set, but, with a quick glance at them, they began playing a slow, jazzy song. "Moderation is good with due moderation...", replied Vlimar, as he adopted the position for a classic dance, in the otherwise near empty room.

Rochelle's eyes stole a glance over the man's shoulders, searching the stragglers for sign of Almar. She found him in a far corner and knew she wasn't alone. Never alone. Her free hand found Vlimar's shoulder and once again she was the epitome of grace, allowing the older man to lead her in whatever tempo he chose. She was so very refined, perhaps even exquisite if one was willing to go out on that limb, especially when compared to the build of the partners she'd danced with throughout the evening. "Parlez-moi de vous." The Captain said, falling back on her previous party trick.

Vlimar smiled at the comment which almost could be taken as an order. As he dances in a slow, gracious manner, he replied. "What is there to say?", he replied. "Was along too long, left too early, came back...", he replied, knowing very well the contradictions of his sentence. Vlimar couldn't help but appreciate the charming company of the woman in front of him. "But, I am sure you are not referring to work... as you probably read over my personnel file by now...", he added, cheeky.

"On the contrary," She smiled, giving him her undivided attention, "I don't cheat with personnel files." Falling into rhythm with him was easy, carefree and she did so with pleasure. He wasn't there to try to impress her with exotic dance moves or spin her until she teetered on her heels with threat of falling -- he was careful, nonchalant... Confident. A breath of fresh air during a night that had begun to stagnate. "I'm not interested in your prowess on a starship, I'm intrigued by the man behind the uniform."

Vlimar smiled. Cheating with personnel files was one of his pet peeves. There were no challenges anymore. Vlimar was counter-culture to this and believed that the best way to learn to know someone was to let the other person choose what to tell about themselves and others. Eventually, through meeting enough people, you would get the complete picture, the same picture that personnel files wouldn't be able to tell. Knowing that Rochelle seem to think the same way was pleasing to his ears, to say the least.

Vlimar remained silent for a moment, formulating the above in his head, while looking at Rochelle with a slight smile on his face. "Well, behind the uniform lies a man who loves the uniform a little too much that almost lost sight of what was important. Therefore, as any good Frenchman would do, I returned home for a few years, took over the family domain and attempted to become the best winemaker on Earth. Now, as you can see, I am back here, so I wasn't very good at it...", he said, softly and candidly. "I am glad to have a purpose back, therefore, you have in front of you, madam, a very happy person.", he added.

Vlimar smiled and asked: "Et vous? Qui est Rochelle Ivanova?"

The woman chuckled lightly at the man's flippant nature, "I'm sure you had to have some form of success with your wine." She mused out loud, "But I'll take a happy man over a miserable one any day." Vlimar PontBrillant was an anomaly, a true blue member of the old guard who'd come back from the past to haunt a ship now under the masterful hand of a young woman. She was almost sure that such a thing would have been considered completely unacceptable by a war dog like the man who held her ever so gently in his arms.

"Qui est Rochelle Ivanova?" She smirked, her chin chipped up and to the side slightly, giving her a most defiant appearance that was only given away by the glitter behind her crystalline eyes, " Je suis... Un capitaine. Votre capitaine." The woman teased him, the smirk turning into one of her rare smiles as she based in her own amusement. "In all seriousness I'm just a woman who grew up too fast and has seen too much tragedy. Like you I gave my heart to the uniform and never looked back." It was her turn to be candid, soft, sincere. She punctuated her sentence with a tiny, nearly imperceptible, shrug.

Vlimar smiled and nodded to her response. He liked the fact that she reminded him that, in the end, she is his captain. "Tragedy has its way to change us, sometimes for the worse, often for the better.", he stated, as he continue the slow dance. "However, it always makes us grow old, some more than the other", he said, raising his eyes towards his salt & pepper hair.

Vlimar couldn't help but to return his eyes to her crystalline eyes. There was something about Rochelle that was quite intriguing to him. Most women in the eyes seem ambitious, aggressive. However, Rochelle was poised, Cartesian and beautiful. He couldn't help but to admire the way her body moved, graceful and authoritative at the same time. A lock of the petite woman's long red hair waved down onto her shoulders, then split both to her back and onto the front of her corset, which contrasted beautifully with the colour of her dress. Vlimar was wishing, quietly, that, somehow, the band had found an extended version of the song they were playing, making their dance never end.

"I could agree to that." Rochelle mused as she considered his statement and all of it's potential variables. "From tragedy rises heroes, but I'm hardly a hero. I'm only a woman." She countered easily, perhaps even demure as her benevolent little smile once again decided to play with the fullness of her lips. Rochelle Ivanova herself was an enigma, a phoenix born of fire and forged by ice, resurrected from the ashes of discord. She'd always be the ambitious one, the sanguine little savage with a tactical mind that was sharp as a tack -- but she'd learned to find that happy medium. Serenity. Peace. It tried to escape her, chased away by heartache -- most recently the fall of Landon Neyes. Her heart flip flopped at the thought, forcing her fingers to tighten their hold, slightly, on his hand and shoulder, settling herself. It was through such conflict that she'd been sculpted and unbridled as an indomitable force of nature. And yet, there she was, content and contained in his feather soft touch, being guided across a black marble dance floor as light and easy as dandelion fluff caught on a summer's breeze. Talking to him, even in jest, was refreshing.

Vlimar, who kept dancing even if the music had stop for a few seconds now, replied, softly. "You might think you are a just a woman, but a woman in charge of hundreds of souls, still managing to keep a decent smile is, to me, a hero.". Vlimar knew well how a command position could destroy one's Joie de Vivre, by taking away, bit by bit, the life out of a person. The littlest joys of the world appeared dull and fade, creating the illusion on self-pity. Vlimar had been through that and, somehow, the sight of Rochelle made him want to help her through the process of sanity. Perhaps she didn't need his help, perhaps she's a better leader that he ever was, but, somehow, he felt that he wanted to be part of this woman's journey.

A hush had fallen, something missing from the atmosphere in which they come together. "They are my collective soul, I'd die for them." She responded, "That's my duty, not a display of heroics." Rochelle, lost in her own thoughts and trying to pick apart essence of the man before her, had failed to notice the end of the music they both shared. It wasn't a situation that she was used to.

"A Captain willing to die for her crew is rare. Selfless thoughts seem to be not a norm, anymore.", he added, lost in his own thoughts and memories.

Suddenly, Vlimar noticed that the music had stopped, that he kept on dancing. He slowly moved his head back to observe her eyes and assess the situation, smiling.

She offered him a smile of her own in return before ducking her gaze away almost shyly, trying to come up with some good reason why she herself had failed to notice the end of the song. "You dance well." She chuckled lightly, feeling vulnerable in the unguarded nature of what had transpired. Earlier that evening he'd been almost aggressive in his mannerisms with Amelia, but that was how the taller woman rolled. Rough. Heavy. Fast. And now with her, he'd been gentle, patient and so very collected. The calmness of his hands against her were not unlike those used to comfort a spirited horse, lending stability and strength as a conduit to close the powerful circuitry within. He handled her not unlike how Almar handled her, just lacking the familiarity and intimacy. Respectful. Just enough to keep her from suspicion and discomfort even as she found herself sheepish in their small dance floor faux pas at an award ceremony turned impromptu debutante ball.

"And you dance wonderfully...", he responded. Vlimar approached her ear slowly. "It was a nice change from the previous red head I have meet tonight...", he said, laughing softly.

"Thank you." She replied, taking the comment in kind as he moved closer, invading her personal space. The ice of her eyes spied Almar, watching him from where he'd taken up residence in the shadows as she listened to what Vlimar had to say. "Hardly a nice change." She tutted gently, wryly, her eyes moving to study him again, "She's footloose and fancy. A better word would be fun." Rochelle chuckled, thinking fondly of her much taller counterpart. They were a true study in differences. Amelia ran wild and free, Rochelle was so very methodical, working to control the fire and use it to her best advantage.

Vlimar nodded carefully. He learn that Rochelle had a deep caring for Amelia and he had to tread carefully regarding those two, in the future. He slowly extended her his hand. "Would you care if I escort you to the bar?", he said, leading her towards their initial place.

"Everything in moderation." The redhead teased, closing his hand with both of hers, "At midnight the ship turns into a pumpkin and I back into a scullery maid if I'm not back in my quarters." The reference to such an old fairytale came easy, sent forth to gently extract herself from not only Vlimar, but from the ceremony in general. She'd hide behind her gossamer veil of secrecy and mystery as long as she possibly could, guarding herself and her ship as if it were a sport. Rochelle did however, offer him another smile as she let her fingers slip from his hand, "There's always next time."

Vlimar smiled and nodded. "La modération a bien meilleurs goût...", he replied. He smiled kindly and nodded as she stated the old fairy tale. "And, as the good prince, I shall return with the crystal shoe, demoiselle...", he added.

"Très vrai." She commended ever so lightly, nodding and bowing her head to take her leave when he spoke again. "I look forward to it. Goodnight, Commander. Thank you for the company."

Vlimar smiled and nodded as the Captain walked away from him. He shrugged slightly and returned to the bar, where he ordered one last Old Fashioned cocktail, observing the remaining of the room around him.

-=- END LOG -=-

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR

&

Commander Vlimar PontBrillant
Chief of Operations
USS Vindicator

 

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