Joint Log | Capt Ivanova - Cmdr PontBrillant - "Summer" - PT II/III

Posted on Tue Sep 9th, 2014 @ 6:51am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Vlimar PontBrillant

2,549 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Are You Touched?

"Right." She replied, shaking her head with a laugh, "Somehow I don't buy that." The usual arctic hue of her eyes glittered with the promise of her amusement and the light hearted nature of her mood as she looked over at her riding partner, taking him in for who and what he was. A man. An officer. Her protector for the day whether he'd admit it or not.

He was handsome in spite of his age, regal even as he sat masterfully astride his black gelding. The lines of him promised power and strength running from his sculpted shoulders and down through the well sprung width of his... She saw it then as she appraised him like she would a horse, the glaring scar peeking from beneath his pecs. Her full lower lip was caught between her teeth as she considered it and how out of place it seemed, "Is that how you got that?" She teased gesturing to the location of the scar on her own chest, "by trying to fool the wrong woman into thinking you weren't playing the role of knight?"

Vlimar smiled at Rochelle's doubt and how she easily and naturally she read him on that answer. He watched her as she watched him, surprised to catch her looking at him for that heavy second.

As she mentioned the scar, she shifted his arms in an attempt to block the sight of it from her eyes. "I'm sorry you saw that..." He said, "An old injury, badge of honor for me, really, from a long time ago." His voice was soft, quiet. "And for your information, I was playing the role of knight, she just didn't realize it then." He added, playful.

"If it's a badge of honor, wear it like one." She replied quickly, guiding her reluctant horse sideways and close enough for her to be able to take a risk and lean to still his hand and quell his embarrassment. The touch was fleeting, however, with the stallion squealing and snapping at the gelding's teacup muzzle as follow through to his previous warning. It took skill to guide him away, to end the attack truly before it began. Once again there was space between them, the Queen and her brave knight.

"Let's hope there's no repeat of that." Rochelle grinned, gently teasing him as she guided her mount over a small fallen tree.

The Frenchman chuckled deeply, "There's a lot of events that shouldn't be repeated, I see." He grinned, clearly referencing their previous encounter in the turbolift as he helped his horse over the fallen tree. That's when he noticed the small, hidden lake pooling from a source deep underground. The Commander gestured to catch Rochelle's attention and pointed at the water. "Maybe a little stop?" He asked, "For the horses." He added, using them as a guise while obviously wanting to use the opportunity to spent more time with the petite redhead.

"You're correct. Many things aren't to be repeated." Memories of the lift were still all too fresh, the little game of chicken having brought him too close for comfort. Close enough, she thought, that they'd nearly burnt one another with their pride and egos too powerful to know when to quit. For Rochelle it had been about control, dominance, a never evening battle for something so small and preciously fragile to reinstate herself as a force to be reckoned with. The entire crew had been handling her as if she were a rose, not daring to breathe on her in fear she would crumble after Notura and the death of Landon Neyes.

She'd been sinking into her seat to ask the gray to trot. When Vlimar had suggested the lake and, with a glance to the tired black and her own sweaty steed, she nodded with a gentle sigh, "They could use a rest." She agreed, reining the gray off the bridle path and towards the water pausing near its shore to slide off his back and lead him for a drink.

Vlimar followed silently. Although not part of the crew when the tragedy occurred, he kept himself in the loop by reading the reports of events, as if it were his homework. As they reached the shore, Vlimar acrobatically slid his legs off the side of the horse, jumping down and led the little gelding to the water where he began to drink in a very aggressive fashion. Vlimar put his hand on the animal's neck making calming humming noises until the horse, slowly, began to drink normally.

"Colic..." he said, explaining the awkward noise that came out of his mouth. He then threw his reins over a large branch and turned to look at Rochelle, swiftly turning the weapon bag around, opening the top of it. Smiling, he dug inside of it, tugging out a large blanket and laying it on the ground.

"Hungry?" he asked, as he dropped to his knees, putting the bag in front of him.

Rochelle regarded him coolly as she allowed her horse to drink and cool his legs in the cool, clear water. "I might be." She replied, keeping her distance for the moment and stroking her stallion's shoulder. It was hot, the morning coolness giving away to the intensity of the Klingon afternoon crept up on them. The woman stretched, her fingers coming out beside her and up towards the sky as she relished in the warmth and the sun as it filtered through the trees and over the water, casting dappled light across her body. She had choices; spring back onto her horse and back down the trail now that she knew what obstacles lay in wait, leaving him to a one sided picnic -- or join him, put just a little of her faith in his hands like some sort of social experiment. Once again he fell under her gaze.

Vlimar observed the little Captain as she stood under the light. Beautiful. He admired the way her petite frame held so much authority and yet shown so much fragility. He knew that his pursuit of the woman was possibly in vain, but somehow he felt the need to continue down that path. He'd picked their spot wisely, under a tree though far enough away that seemed like open terrain simply shaded. A place they could eat in tranquility while the horses relaxed in the surrounding coolness. Digging in the bag, he lay a carefully wrapped caprese salad on the towel, followed by two roasted balsamic garlic beef sandwiches and a bottle of red wine. His signature was visible on the bottom of the label, along side the year 2397, boldly stating it was from his own estate.

"So baby sitter," Rochelle started, turning her horse from the water with a splash as he sloshed from the lake and onto the bank, following his mistress as she approached the man and his towel. "I'm starting to get the impression that this was planned." She teased, tying the gray horse and turning her attention fully to Vlimar, coming to perch on the towel across from him. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"Possibly a... minimum of planning," He said, a wry smile appearing on his lips as she popped the bottle's cork. "It was more like 'in case she desires to kill me and I need to distract her since I like my head on my neck.'" He added, attempting humor as he slowly poured the ruby red wine into a crystalline glass and extended it to her.

She took it, lifting it to him with light laughter, "Well thought out." She ribbed back, bringing the glass to her lips for a lip. It was velvet in her mouth, dry and sweet with just a hint of something floral hidden in the crisp notes that hit all the right places of her palate. Rochelle had never been one for alcohol or drinks, never had simply chosen to sat there with a glass of wine night after night. But it was a beautiful thing, begging for her admiration and it received it, wantonly, in the form of a smile. "I thought you said you weren't very good at this," the Captain said, setting her glass down and taking the bottle from him when he was done pouring his own glass. Her thumb smoothed over the paper bearing his name. "C'est deux fois." She grinned, offering it back to him, "En une journée." as she goaded him and gloated at catching him in his tall tales.

Vlimar smiled at the compliment to his wine. "I am not. But, I still have the decency to bring the best one I have." he said, politely. "A woman like you deserves the best, only the best." he claimed, while taking a sip of his wine. As he tasted the wine, he too was surprised by the taste. It was as if the warmth of the sun of Qo'noS have made the wine better. He slowly tasted the wine looking at Rochelle. "Deux fois... de plusieurs fois si vous le désirez bien..", he finished by saying, looking at her, smiling.

"Peut-être." She shot back, tipping her nose at the off handed compliment he showered her with. It was a strange change of pace, the way she allowed him to skirt along the edges of reason and taunt her with his European flair. "Vous êtes sans scrupules, no?" Her lips wrapped so delicately around his native language, allowing it to roll from her mind and off her tongue with a lilt that was so distinctly of her own happiness, something so very rarely seen and never having been tempted by the hand of someone quite as forward as him.

Vlimar smirked. "Je n'ai pas de scrupules à vos côtés, non, c'est vrai.", he said, softly. Immediately following this, he leaned back on his left hand, raising his glass, winking at Rochelle, then taking a small sip, putting the glass back onto the blanket.

"ou ... faites -vous?" Our favorite little songbird challenged, with an upward quirk of a brow. She refused to allow him to surge to the high ground, instead choosing to drag him back down with her own brilliant wit. Chicken was a game she knew she should leave behind -- or at least play with space between them. Wine and food between them seemed safe enough -- especially when joined with the proviso that he was never to lay his lips on her again unless she asked. She never would, of that she was adamant as she took another sip and set it down, allowing herself to lay back on the blanket and stare up at the leaves and the blue of the sky peeking back at her. To think she'd been hesitant about vacationing, let alone on on Qo'noS, was almost laughable. "le mot du jour est l'illumination. Raconte-moi une histoire , monsieur chevalier." A story, she thought, about what drives you - though she'd never ask. Above them birds hopped from branch to branch, relishing in the very freedom Rochelle herself felt slowly slipping from her fingers from the moment Landon passed away.

Vlimar observed Rochelle for a moment. He couldn't help but notice the swell of her royal blue bikini top protruding from the white of her open shirt as the wind kept blowing it off her torso. He tried to collect his mind back from the primitive state a man could revert to, especially when eyeing the beautiful redhead. He leaned slowly backwards, laying with his head being deposited right beside hers and looked up, enjoying the same deep blue sky. Turning his head to the side, he looked again at his companion.

"A story. A story about illumination." He mused, smiling, slowly looking back up at the sky, trying to avoid sharing any not-so-positive stories that he might have. "I can tell you the story of this man that lived back in France many years ago. A man who had been hurt, who forgot how to live, how to love. That man, lucky in a way, was a military officer. He basically buried himself in his work. For days. For months. For years. He worked until he forgot about all the pain, all the love and all the misery that one can live through in their time." he started by saying, swallowing.

"Suddenly, he realized that he was getting older, unhappy and growing unhappier. He retired from his position and returned home, to his family. However, upon his return, he didn't know that he was the only one left. Everyone that he forgot he loved dearly were gone, forgotten. He remained alone, sad. Sure he found some passion, some activities, but soon enough, as bad as they were, he began to miss the sound of cannons, the sound of the cavalry, the sound of the men and women he fought with. His family. So, in the following months, he managed to find an opportunity, a reason to rejoin his previous regiment. Only, this time, wiser and richer." he continued, telling the story with his deep voice rich with emotion and his eyes still cast towards the sky.

"This time around, he does a job with passion. He actually seeks friendship, and, yes, love. He knew who he was, what he was. He understands that pain, as strong as it may feel at the time, will always be surrounded by joy. That you cannot forget what you saw or what you felt, but you can choose to move away from them and accept to live, to love.", he concluded, turning his head towards Rochelle, smiling softly.

It was Rochelle's turn to swallow the knot in her throat, feeling her heart thrumming within her breast as if it were driving her to understand and comprehend the man's story. It was a story. Just a tale. But it was his story and, in a twisted way, her story. It drew parallels that she should never have allowed it to, conjuring up memories and emotions she tried so very hard to tamp down and exile from her heart and soul. The blanket sighed as she rolled onto her side, her shirt scraping along the blanket as she propped her head up on her hand as her eyes bore into his. "You may have heard the rumors... About Captain Neyes and myself." She started, the very image of such a man coming to sit as a ghost within her soul, the memory of him so rich and fresh in her heart. "Most of them are..." She paused, smiling wryly and blinking over her choice of words, "Were," She corrected herself, "true. He died rescuing me on that Godforsaken planet and before that day we'd denied one another that one quintessential ingredient to life."

Trailing her fingers along the fabric of the blanket in front of her, the dulcet little woman smiled the saddest of smiles. "Love." Her voice chirped the word, freeing it from the confines of her chest. "Moral of both stories? If you love something, don't let it go without acting on it. You never know when tomorrow is too late."

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Continued in part III...
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Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR

&

Commander Vlimar PontBrillant
Strategic Operations Commander
USS Vindicator

 

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