Joint Personal Log | Capt Ivanova & Cmdr PontBrillant - "I Played Chicken With A Train"

Posted on Fri Aug 29th, 2014 @ 9:36am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Vlimar PontBrillant

5,232 words; about a 26 minute read

Mission: Are You Touched?
Location: CO Ready Room

-=- Deck 1 -=-

Vlimar finally finished updating his console with the new and updated LCARS VI version of the software ready to be used in actual combat situation. Satisfied, wearing his usual black slacks, a symbol of his old SSS time and a habit he just couldn't kick, he looked around the empty bridge, happy but with no one to celebrate with. As he logged off his console, he decided to call for engineering to supervise the install of the communication relay as per Starfleet regulation. Not that he actually had to be there, but there was, really, nothing else to do.

As he walked through the hallway leading to the turbo lifts, he passed in front of the Captain's ready room. Passing in front, he stopped dead in his tracks, thinking about the outstanding offer for lunch that Rochelle put on the table a few days ago. He thought of taking her up on her offer, and with hunger winning, he pressed the chime and waited.

Rochelle had just gotten up from her desk and was stretching, thinking about something to do with chicken salad, when the chime to the ready room rang. It was a free day, one of those times she didn't have to be at work but had chosen to stay holed up in her second home anyway. Curious, she tucked her hair, loose for once in it's natural waves of copper, behind her ears and answered the call.

Vlimar.

An eyebrow lifted as she regarded him, the prideful man obviously up to something the way his eyes glittered like finely polished topaz. "Commander," she greeted with a nod, stepping just outside of the door to rest against the bulkhead. Without her stilettos from the night they'd danced at the award banquet, she was entirely way too well aware of their height differences and the advantage his stature gave him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.", he replied instantly. He observed Rochelle for a few seconds, noticing her black tank top and her jeans. "Well, I assume you are not on a schedule, then.", he added, smiling. He slowly shifted his body against the wall to mimic her posture. "I was thinking of calling you on your offer for lunch...", he said smiling, imitating her.

"I'm sure it is." She almost allowed herself a chuckle as she watched him sidle up to the bulkhead all quaint and cozy as he parroted her movements. "Lucky for you I was on my way to lunch anyway and then off to the holodeck to see a man about a horse." Rochelle replied ever so matter of factly, a long, coltish leg crossing in front of the other and balancing on the heel of her boot.

"I see... So, conveniently, you accept my offer?" he said laughing. "I am quite the lucky man.", he replied as he lead Rochelle towards the turbo lift. Stepping into the lift he waited for Rochelle to enter then said "Deck 2" while his smile never faded as he look at the petite woman.

"One could say that." She drawled delicately, turning to match his languid strides with her own, her hands folding behind her back as she floated along beside him. Her spurs gently jangled with her every step, confirming her intent for the afternoon until she came to a halt on the wall opposite the Frenchman in the lift. "Luck is a fickle thing, Commander, she disguises herself quite well sometimes." She quipped as the doors slid shut and the computer chirped in compliance, whisking them away.

"Perhaps, she does.", he replied, obviously believing luck must be a feminine fact. "In this case, however, I am sure it was more fate than luck that lead us to this lunch" he added with a shrug. "After all, it was due..." he concluded softly to the Captain. He slowly tugged on his tunic, obviously making himself look sharp in front of her on purpose.

The eyebrow quirked heavenward again as she watched him, shifting her weight from one hip to another. "So now you're saying you believe in kismet joining us together today?" She questioned, wryly, her own icy eyes giving away her amusement and good humor. "I'm intrigued. Tell me more."

Vlimar shrugged laughing. "Yeah, sure. Perhaps she wanted you to pay your dues... After all, you have quite a few... your majesty." he said winking.

The little redhead rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to stiffen and pull away physically from the title of majesty. "My dues?" she countered, pushing away from the wall to cross dangerously close to the much taller man, "I think I've paid them time and time again my dear Commander. You're still on my ship, are you not?" The elegant little minx teased.

Vlimar smiled widely as she approached him. "Are you threatening me, Captain?" he asked playfully.

"Do you feel threatened?" She asked, coming to rest with the toes of her boots nearly touching his.

Vlimar slowly passed his right hand over her left cheek, slowly slipping it behind the back of her skull, obviously grabbing a hold of her hair. "I feel vulnerable, not threatened." he replied, searching her eyes almost as he was trying to look at her soul.

"Define vulnerable." Said Rochelle, her skin tingling beneath his touch as she stupidly allowed his game to continue, his fingers and palm to brush over the precious porcelain of her cheek and tangle in the thick autumn hued waves behind her ear. The rules were suddenly changing, evolving to allow the spirited little Captain to hold her ground in the presence of what every one of her senses screamed was potential ruin. Run away, her mind bellowed at her, her pulse quickening at the challenge he'd suddenly swung into her path. Instead she held firm, tilting her head into his touch and giving her a better view of his face.

Vlimar kept his gaze locked firmly on her eyes as she tilted her head. He slowly brought his lips to hers until their noses touched. His hand kept a hold of her by the the back of her neck, while his left hand settled on and pulled at her lower back, bridging the remaining gap that existed between the two. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his mouth, his nose being filled with her delicate scent, almost allowing primitive instinct to drive his actions.

The klaxons in her mind switched immediately from yellow to red alert. They were blaring, viciously clawing at her for her to alter course from this strange game of chicken that they played. Rochelle brought her hands up to rest on the steel of the man's chest, her fingers spreading out to seek and purchase as much territory as possible as she braced delicately against him, her body's feminine curves countering and balancing with the masculine angles of his. A sharp contrast, begging to offer their differences a chance in the lime light. "You didn't define vulnerable," she breathed, daring to continue on with this game, daring to challenge and defy his prowess. The thickness of her lashes fell to veil her eyes as their noses brushed and the heat of him beckoned the fire that dwelt inside her to come out and play.

Feeling her warm breath on his lips, he deepened his aggressive hold. Vlimar smiled softly, daring to bring his lips even closer, eventually touching hers superficially. Feather soft, barely there, "Did I say vulnerable?" he asked. As he spoke his lips touched hers, almost closing the thin gap between them and hers.

Rochelle could feel his hold on her tighten imperceptibly, the tangling of his elegant fingers refusing to allow her an easy route of escape as he kept her fully ensnared. "You did." She replied, her voice a raspy whisper as his lips dared to singe the skin of hers, and hers his, repeatedly as they wrapped so delectably around her words. It was wrong, it was chaos, it was brutal, the agony that she allowed simply out of spite and a refusal to back down. If you asked her, she'd have sworn she could feel the confident hammering of his heart beneath her fingertips, each staccato beat coaxing her into the spiraling web. Her own was not unlike a captive bird, fluttering violently in a cage several times too small. Someday her bravado would get her killed, but it was her bravado that made her a damned good Captain and a tenacious little woman. Her weight shifted, her boots shuffling with nothing more than the daunting cling of a spur as it's rowel announced her movement closer to him, deeper into him, flush against him. She could feel the cold brass of his belt buckle pressing into the flat of her lower belly, cold even through the fabric of her tank top.

Vlimar chuckled. "I did." he answered prior to advancing his lips to hers, interlocking, kissing, killing what little space and control he'd had left. He knew he lost the game, however, it felt God damned good. Feeling her petite body being sequestrated against his, his hands steadily refused to give up their control over her. It was barely an excuse for him to hold the beautiful, tiny woman against him, but he'd use it time and time again.

And it happened. Rochelle sucked in a hiss of a breath as his lips closed over hers, the knight surrendering to the Queen and Camelot's golden city threatened to burn to rubble. Her eyes closed fully, a whimper stilling against their joined lips as the levee threatened to break. She knew he outmatched her in strength, knew he could easily break her physically if he so felt inclined -- but here he preyed on a much different game, the valiant nature of her heart and the surge of energy she felt coil as heat deep in the pit of her belly. Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt as she tasted him for the first time, something raw, exotic, utterly confounding. But... Raw. She'd won, but to what end? What reward had she been granted?

Vlimar basked in their kiss for a few moments. Until he couldn't help but chance things and slowly, calmly willed himself to release the hold he had on her hair and back, leaving her free to break the link. Somehow, he managed to feel her fingers grasping the shirt over his chest while her sweet, leathery perfume overwhelmed his nose. His left hand completely left her lower back, while his right hand opened slightly, just enough for her to feel him letting go. Although he would have kept the kiss for longer, he decided to allow her to leave if she chose to do so.

And she did.

The songbird fled the cage the moment the grasp on her wings was lifted, stepping backwards and away from the Frenchman's touch and kiss with the singing of her spurs's rowels. Rochelle's tongue darted out to worry along the full, slightly kiss swollen, pout of her lower lip as she studied him in earnest. His face, his lips... His eyes, they all became her targets as she settled herself. Tugging the hem of her tank top down, she drew a breath to say something when the lift came to a stop and chimed their arrival giving her little chance for preamble, forcing her to swallow her words.

All of them, however, but a few, "You will never do that again," She said, her chin lifting in defiance, "unless I ask you to." Rochelle was forced to ignore the heaviness of her pulse brought about by such a bold endeavor and a game gone terribly off course. It had been wrong to provoke and engage him, wrong to allow it to go where it had. She was the Captain, a Queen, a woman in mourning -- a thousand thoughts were caught on a whirlwind within her mind, all of them being chastised and bitten by the warning bells now lilting 'I told you so's. Pride was a dangerous thing, Andrea had always warned her.

"Oh, but you will." stated Vlimar with a laugh. He exited the lift, opening the passage for Rochelle to head to the Lounge. "Shall we?" he asked, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

A quick shake of her head spoke of a different story as she slipped past him and out of the lift. If she hadn't been hungry, she'd have left him hanging there empty handed. "But I won't." Rochelle breathed as she found herself out in the busy corridor, heading steadily towards the promise of food and then freedom.

Vlimar grinned widely as Rochelle shook her head. After all, he felt that the kiss -- although unplanned and unprecedented -- had been quite an event, something to remember. Even if there would be no more intimacy between the two, and not for lack of trying, Vlimar felt that the kiss might actually have set the pace for a fun voyage... And the ship hadn't even departed the shipyard yet.

Obviously, Vlimar did not wish to push his Captain too much, as, from history's tale, such insubordination had not always been met with success. He walked to the door of the lounge, pulled on the heavy wooden door and motioned Rochelle to enter. "Après vous." he said, gallantly.

"Thank you." The cold of her icy eyes locked onto his, cursing his pride and the way he strutted proud as a peacock. He'd lost the battle, but the war seemed to still be waging and Rochelle unwillingly to continue to play that game. She slipped past, giving him care and a wide berth even though she knew he didn't have the guts to try his last trick in the company of the rest of the crew. She was silent until she found an empty table and quickly took her seat, waiting for him to sit down. Her hands folded on the table, her posture rigid and on guard.

Vlimar smiled and nodded at the waiter as they entered. He was, indeed, proud. Even through apparent loss in the face of battle, he couldn't help but to think that he was still victorious. After all, who wouldn't want to be kissing such a lovely woman, none withstanding her position? Vlimar sat at the table, in front of Rochelle, beaming. "You do look magnificent, you know." he stated, obviously loud enough for her to hear, low enough that the other patrons couldn't have a chance.

The songbird scoffed softly, her chin tipping once again in evidence of her defense as she regarded him. "Hardly." She responded, crossing her legs under the table and taking care not to catch herself with a spur, however blunt they may have been. Metal still hurt when it encountered tender skin. "I fail to see how jeans and a tank top make me look magnificent." Her tone was low, not daring to give way to further gossip. As it was, the world had ignited about the way she'd danced with both Admiral Malone and Commander Dahe'el.

Vlimar felt the defensive Captain trying to regain control of the situation. Thinking, he assumed that compliments wouldn't do so well right then and so he decided to use another social tactic. "What do you ride, usually?" he asked, leaning his right elbow on the table.

He shifted, she shifted, the dance continued. Horses were something she would talk about time and time again. "Anything I can get my hands on. It's been a few years since I've touched a anything other than a holo-program, though." Rochelle replied, relaxing ever so slightly. "I was taught dressage as a child, how to jump, but I've found my home in a nice deep western saddle."

Vlimar nodded. He was more of an English saddle lover himself. He like dressage, jumping and showmanship. However, not ready to offer such a contradiction onto the table, he smiled as he said: "Western is nice. Stability, yet control... and comfort, for sure." he replied. "I personally have a few horses myself, back in my winery. Majestic animals, miss them already, obviously.", he stated, thinking about his home. As he recently moved back into Starfleet, Vlimar caught himself missing home a few times, a feeling he hadn't felt since the Academy an eternity ago. He loved how the sun rose over his vines, how the apex at noon caused his skin to burn, yet the vine to live. How, at sunset, he usually took a glass of his own reserve and sat quietly, watching nature at its best.

"Comfort and easier on your horse." Rochelle quipped with a gentle shrug, "I like the unity it allows, a decent cut saddle gives you the same close contact feel of a jumping saddle." The waiter chose that moment to step in, eyeing the two of them. It wasn't often the topic of horses and saddles came up in that lounge, the animals hardly seen in space. "I'll have a chicken salad wrap and a water, thank you." She gave her order to the expectant lounge attendee, not daring take her eyes off her lunch partner out of sheer concern for what may happen if she did.

Vlimar nodded to Rochelle. "I'll go for the same." he said to the waiter, he too not removing his eyes from Rochelle while still trying his best to offer her a winning smile. As the waiter left to fulfill the orders, he resumed their conversation. "Well, I would love to ride with you, someday." he stated. "It's such a feeling of freedom and interconnection with nature..." he added, observing Rochelle and waiting for an answer.

"We'll see." She responded, her weight shifting in her seat as she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, trying to find a comfortable position in an awkward situation. "Horses are an intimate topic. I don't usually share them." It was plain to see that the little Captain had thrown her shields up the moment he'd given her a chance to escape his clutches. He'd dealt her a decent blow, even if it had meant he'd lost that little game. A dangerous game with a cunning man. Share her freedom with him? The thought seemed shamefully similar to sharing her bed with him, the same euphoria and unbridled power was known to any who understood the nature behind being forced to blindly trust a thousand pound animal with a crafty mind and high spirited soul. The experience was raw... Addictive.

Vlimar watched Rochelle as she was obviously considering her options. He knew better than to push the issue, usually leading to dismay and disrespect. Although his intentions were noble, he expected a kickback from the little battle that just occurred in the the lift. Patiently, Vlimar opened his hands and offered a "it's up to you" face, smiling softly, knowing better than to poke the bear.

He backed off, his palms coming up to release the proverbial ball in her court and she took it, allowing herself to settle further. "What brought horses into your life?" She asked, carefully toeing along their common ground.

Vlimar smiled and shrugged. "Was basically brought up around them." he initially stated. Being raised in the French countryside around Paris had been good for his education, a much ground up education, where he learnt to take care of his environment in order for his own goodness to be brought up. Horses were like that, a noble, useful and complicated animal, where one needs to learn to respect and love to be able to handle. "As far back as I can remember, I had companions of the equine persuasion. Bergerac, Rostand, D'Artagnan..." He said, obviously naming his previous mounts.

"I had a D'Artagnan." Rochelle couldn't help but smile as he called off his horses like Santa Claus called off his reindeer. "Big half Belgian half Paint gelding, nearly eighteen hands tall. I felt invincible when I rode him." It was a small piece of her soul to share, the memory of a horse during a time so much less complicated than the one she found herself in now. "The first and last time I ever found myself in trouble with the law was with him." She chuckled, shaking her head as the waiter set their food down, "Lead them on a chase across a golf course. The owner called to report us trespassing, I guess dinner dish sized feet tear up the greens and he wasn't interested in me shaving time off my route back home at his expense."

Her eyes lit up with the memory of the cumbersome horse moving as fast as his fancy high kneed action would allow. She felt as if she were flying with her hands tangled in his thick bi-colored mane and reins as they tried their damnedest to evade capture. Even though the horse was slow, bred and built for a carriage, not speed, D'Artagnan had given her his all by dutifully charging across the rolling golf course and dodging sand traps that would have bogged them down. Ultimately they were caught by a canal they simply couldn't have forded. The fourteen year old redhead with her wild eyes and spirited heart had laughed when they were apprehended, promising never to ride on the course again and wound up having to devote half the summer to learning how hard it was to repair and tend to the torn up greens. It had been worth it.

Vlimar smiled as Rochelle was telling the story of her D'Artagnan. It was quite awkward to hear someone speak about D'Artagnan, he was feeling someone was sharing the memories of HIS D'Artagnan, even if the horse did not share the same coat, nor the same origin. Vlimar felt he needed to tell about his own horse, to honour his memory and his time with him.

"My D'Artagnan was a Cheval d'Auvergne, 17 hands well formed. One of the most muscular horses I had the chance to possess." he said, remembering the animal as if he was seeing it standing before him. "He was sable with a near black dorsal stripe going from his head to the tip of his tail. Truly, he was quite something." he said, smiling. The memory of his d'Artagnan was mostly involving his transportation into the village, against the better judgment of his father and his family. "I was always riding him to town either to go to school or to meet up with friends. He was my companion during my quite troublesome teenage years." he stated, laughing. "First horse that was actually mine." he concluded, smiling brightly and taking a sip of his water with a quick glance to their food before putting his eyes back on Rochelle's immaculate porcelain face.

"They have a way of soothing our souls and getting us through the rough patches." She responded with an emphatic nod, her own mind picturing the big bay horse with all of the flair and power the breed possessed. Growing up she'd been handed everything from Arabians to Warmbloods, but never something quite as rare or interesting as a Cheval d'Auvergne. An obscure breed for an obscure man, she concluded as she picked up half of her wrap. What she failed to realize, however, was that horses had now opened a gate between them and had thundered through without hope of being collected back. The pieces of that puzzle would remain scattered across the wastelands, leaving her hopelessly looking for a way to piece it all together and remain aloof and cool. Letting him in would be a mistake. "Bon appetit." She said, taking a bite of her food and working to find a way out from under his heavy gaze.

Vlimar smiled and nodded in agreement with the comment. Taking a sip of water, he grabbed his wrap firmly and welcomed Rochelle's wishes of a good meal. "Merci! Et à vous aussi." He replied, taking his first bite. As he observed her, he was reminded of his strong horse, an animal that he loved deeply and sincerely in a time when his social life had been difficult. Of course the Command had friends back then, but they were few and far between. Usually he was only approached because, unlike most teenagers, he refused to drive and would show up in very unorthodox riding his massive sable steed. After everything that had transpired between them, a trip down memory lane was not what Vlimar had expected.

"This lunch is bringing me some powerful memories." he stated, with a grin and a shake of his head between bites "Now, I am wondering how to get back into it.", he added, taking another bite.

"That it is." Rochelle nodded, the memories of her brave D'Artagnan and her own foolish childhood post the death of her mother had been largely stowed away and never visited. Not even her most trusted friends had heard the tales of her renegade police chase or the circumstances following it. Horses, however, were like that. They warmed the cockles of the heart and soul and were easily used as a weapon, however unwittingly. To compare the slight little Captain to a horse was not all that inappropriate. She was sensitive, selective, careful. Her heart was fire and her soul free and powerful. Like horses, though, she was skittish and slow to trust and love, and it was entirely way too easy to break that bond and never be able to retrieve it once it was lost. Very few had managed to convince her to stand still long enough to leave an impact, even fewer stood firmly through the tests of time. "You create a holo-program. Ride wherever you please and at least keep your skill." She offered, all too aware of the fact she'd done just that.

Vlimar nodded slowly. "Of course, of course.", he answered, visibly unsatisfied. "But, as good as holo technology is, it will never be the same as being on an actual horse...", he added. He took another bite of his wrap, then looked at Rochelle. "If you want, next time we are close to earth, I would love to introduce you to my horses.", he said, softly, openly. He didn't want to let any sort of pressure being felt, so he said it both dismissive and softly.

The woman nodded in agreement, "but at least it gives us a bit of a fix." She replied, considering the times she'd spent recently allowing a holographic horse to ease her troubled mind. What she'd never mention was the fact the safeties were off in her program, that every known text concerning equine psychology and behavior had been input. It was as real as it could possibly get, but not quite real enough. But that was her, doing what it took to feel alive, to feel challenged.

Another bite later and she was left considering his words with only another mouthful left of that half of her wrap. "In France?" She asked, the curiosity of it all grabbing her interest as she took that last bite.

Vlimar nodded to the last question. "In France, yes. I have hired a caregiver for the horses and the house, but whenever we will be close enough", he said, before looking at her as she was concerned directly by the next bit: "With your permission, I would like to see them as often as I can.", he concluded, before taking a bite of his wrap, enjoying both the meal and the conversation.

"When this war ends and Earth is safe, you can see then whenever we're near enough to send you that way." Rochelle replied, using her napkin to dab at her mouth before taking another sip of her water. "Far be it from me to deny you a look in on your family."

Vlimar smiled, while lowering his head. "Yes, they are my family." he state firmly and took his glass to finish the water that was left before looking back at Rochelle, the waiter quickly replacing it. "Family is such a variable concept. They are my family, yet, this ship is my family as well. I have not been here in forever, but if I am going to be trading my four legged family for life on a ship, might as well being for a new one." he stated, softly.

"How about you, Rochelle? Where is your family?" He asked, politely, shifting his position to appear even more open and unimposing.

"My family," She began, setting her napkin down, "Is you and everyone else on this vessel." Telling the truth when the truth was obvious was especially easy -- what came next, however, was more daunting. "I have a few relatives on Earth, not many. My father left before I was born and my mother vanished with the Sirenian when I was barely a teenager. So... This place is pretty much all I have left to call home."

Vlimar nodded in compassion. "I am sorry to hear that.", he said, offering a empathetic gesture of the hand. "Family can be quite challenging.", he stated, obviously know a thing or two about that. "That is why the Vindicator becomes your family... and mine by the same extent." he stated, confirming Rochelle's statement.

"Indeed. I just hope the only worthwhile members of my family have made it through the war unscathed." Rochelle almost hummed, her mind drifting to Anne, Andrea, Logan and the twins. While they weren't related by blood, they were family, they mattered and she missed them something fierce. The same way she missed Landon, she thought and shook her head, releasing it. Unlike Landon, they were able to come back. "Anyway," She said as she realized she'd revealed a bit too much, "lunch has been a real treat. We should do it again sometime."

Vlimar nodded. "We should, indeed.", he answered. "Your lovely presence will always be shining sun on cloudy day." he stated, purposely quite overwhelming. He smiled and raised his glass as if he wanted to do a toast.

Half the crew in lounge looked over at the spectacle of the captain and the boisterous Frenchman, amusement and confusion dotting their faces. Rochelle's head shook. "Well played." She replied as she found her feet and hooked her thumbs into her belt loops. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." Would be all she left him with as she beat her retreat from his gaze and the memory of the lift.

Vlimar smiled widely. He half-raised his body from the chair as Rochelle left the table, then sat back down as she moved away. His eyes followed Rochelle to the door and, once she had left, looked around the room. As his eyes stopped on various officers, the looks stopped and people returned to their business, Vlimar clearly not wanting to let the rumors of the room continue. He slowly finished his water and waited for the waiter to arrive. "An espresso, please." He requested, needing to meditate on the events that occurred that day. It was, after all, quite the unexpected events.

-=- END LOG -=-

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR

&

Commander Vlimar PontBrillant
Chief of Operations
USS Vindicator

 

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