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JL | Com Ivanova, LtJG Sha'mer, Doctor MacLeod | "Circles In The Snow" Pt 1.

Posted on 241709.11 @ 18:27 by Commodore Rochelle Ivanova & Lieutenant Craig MacLeod & Lieutenant JG Ra'lin Sha'mer

Mission: Ballynamony

Hell had come. Hell had come by way of death and the pain of losing one of his patients. Worse had been news that the Magistrate had been through, and all of that could only spell straight disaster for the people of the stars that he'd come to care for.

The first time he saw her, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He had to stop, mid-street, to catch his bearings and be certain of what it was that he was seeing. It was snowing, but just barely. The soft flakes hanging on near windless air and she sat astride a horse the color of ash and stone. Her hair was autumn, curled about itself and hanging at her shoulders with the promise of being so much longer when set free of its pins. So bright, so alive. Snow dared not touch it, or if it did, it sang its apologies and disappeared at once. Her skin was fresh peach infused cream, blushing from the cold. She was smiling, her face alight with mirth, coursing gloved fingers through a shank of mane at her mount’s withers while she spoke to a face he recognized as the stable boy’s. He’d never seen something so beautiful. She was warmth personified, fire among the icy tines of winter’s hold and his fingers twitched in his pockets, wondering what it would be like to touch something so vibrant. Would she burn him? Could something so exquisite be real? Si’a was real enough, he reminded himself, but she was a different sort of beauty. This woman was not unlike the legends of old, a woman that set worlds ablaze just by looking at a man.

She nearly did.

“OUT OF THE WAY, YOU NUMPTY!” A shout from behind him startled Craig from his thoughts and a look over his shoulder told him he had to act fast. He jumped, half running, half leaping to be clear of a vicar’s heavy hitch team. The massive beasts rolled their white ringed eyes at him as if to echo their master’s thoughts concerning his level of intelligence and he couldn’t very well blame them. It wasn’t often someone just stood in the middle of main street gawking at a woman.

"What the hell?" Rochelle's head snapped in the direction of the commotion on the street - a livery team carrying what looked like barrels of whiskey or wine came thundering along the street, kicking up clods of half-frozen mud as they went. Behind them, or rather in their wake, stood a man that was apparently lucky to be alive. Very lucky. Beneath her, the gray shuddered and scooted her back end around, protecting herself from whatever it was that had caught her mistresses attention. A tense rider meant for a tense horse, and the mare didn't need any encouragement in that regard. Rochelle's hand rested against her mount's neck, working to steady the creature while it's head tossed and its teeth worked the bit laying across its tongue, "Village idiot?" She asked Ra'lin, hoping she had at least a little information.

Ra'lin had already grabbed the reigns and murmured soothing words to the horse. It was easy enough to look up at Rochelle and reply: "The doctor. He has seen the crash victims – all of them." She smiled briefly and somewhat wistfully. Nobody had ever reacted that way to her, nor would they ever. Some people just stood out. Some just didn't. She fell firmly in that second category, at least to her own mind. "He appeared to have a rather common reaction to your appearance, Sir. He's smitten."

"Oh Jesus." Rochelle's eyes rolled in their sockets and she quickly searched the hazy heavens for any sign of hope. Anything. The last thing she needed was an ancient love sick puppy hot on her heels and causing more drama. This one, though, this one she knew would need to be handled with a sense of decorum and care. "He's their doctor?" She asked, knowing the answer. The horse beneath her grumbled and heaved a sigh as she finally decided to start to settle, "Has he said anything about them?" Landon. He'd seen Landon. Ra'lin's relatively jovial nature told her that Landon was alive, well, and likely in good hands under the care of the bumbling fool in the middle of the street.

"He thinks Si'a is dying. From what I picked up, he could well be right. She's… very weak. The others are injured, I think, but not critical." Had she already told Rochelle this? Ra'lin wasn't sure, by now. She had sensed a lot, had talked to various people, and it was getting hard to sort what she had said to whom. "He saw the others, too. He thinks the Magistrate, here, is going to send them to the gallows. I mean, to hang. I mean, kill them. Because their presence contradicts with their beliefs or something." Ra'lin frowned. "Craig could be an ally. He's looking for ways to save them."

The redhead nodded, "You did. You told me." The doctor presented them with opportunity she wasn't entirely sure with how to proceed with. The last thing she needed was to spook him, alienate him, or blow their cover in the process of doing any of the above. The idea of the crew being sent to the gallows made her want to vomit, churning her stomach, and sending chills along her spine. It couldn't and wouldn't happen. It simply couldn't. "Does Craig have a last name?" She asked, almost amused as she looked down at her Yeoman. The woman was transparent as anything, or maybe it was because of their link that she could feel and sense the waves of admiration radiating off her.

"MacLeod," Ra'lin replied promptly. "He hopes the Major can persuade the magistrate that these aliens are valuable and shouldn't be killed." She pretended to fiddle with the saddle, or the stirrups. There was no need to fake clumsiness.

"He'll find Tristan is easily swayed, the Magistrate remains to be seen." Rochelle mused out loud, dipping her head to watch what Ra'lin was doing. The effect was seamless enough as they spoke. "Maybe we can get him to bring Ch'Valenvok to them? Offer assistance?" Her mind, and heart, was going about a mile a minute as she tried to come up with something, anything, that might give them an in and eyes on the crew. Seeing a familiar face would give them hope, let them know the cavalry had arrived and rescue would be coming soon.

"Good idea. I'll suggest it next time we talk. Which could be quite soon." Ra'lin 'finished' and gave the horse a gentle pat on her rump. "That's all the time I can buy us right now without arousing suspicion."

With a nod, she nudged her horse into motion and slowly made her way up the avenue, "Come with me, I'm not supposed to be without escort." She could only hope Ra'lin heard her or chose to take initiative. Having her around would act as an anchor, save them from themselves and her from her own foolheadedness when it came to wanting to rush off and bring her crew home.

"As long as you don't go any faster than this," Ra'lin hissed, straining to keep up with even the slow pace. "So no trotting or anything, please." She looked at the horse, touched her neck. "That goes for you too, lady." They were not far from the doctor, now, and as they came closer, Ra'lin waved a greeting at him. "Hi," she said, not loud enough to be considered rude. Just a friendly greeting, nothing a lady could take offense at, but well within the doctor's hearing range.

He fidgeted as they approached, tugging his hands from his pockets to fix the coat as best he could in spite of the mud that now stained it. A damned shame, that, especially when faced with the approaching redhead and the stable boy. If he walked with her, tending to her horse, it could only mean that he belonged to her in some way. Craig's heart sank. She couldn't be the Major's wife, just couldn't. A sister? A sister would be a lovely coincidence, one he could stomach a hell of a lot better than thinking her the wife of just another blow hard officer. She was a vision, after all, and angel. He wanted her. "Awright tae ye, lad. Are ye feeling any better?" asked Craig, tugging off his tricorn hat in greeting to the lady.

"Well enough, sir, than you," Ra'lin said, politely touching her cap and flashing him a brief grin at the same time. Woo boy, the poor doctor had fallen hard. He was a man who could appreciate a fine figure, that was certain. "Milady, would it be terribly forward to introduce this good man to you?" she asked, not lifting her head high enough to look Rochelle in the face, as custom demanded. The lady was way above her, both figuratively and literally. "He has seen… those beings," she added in a 'slightly louder than intended' aside.


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To Be Continued...
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Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F

Lieutenant Junior Grade Ra'lin Sha'mer
Captain's Yeoman
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F

Craig MacLeod
Doctor

 

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