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Plot Log | Cmdr Dahe'el & Rochelle Ivanova (MU) | XO & Privateer | "Time... heals some wounds..."

Posted on 241801.19 @ 13:04 by Rochelle Ivanova & Commander Almar Dahe'el

Mission: Ebbtide
Location: Cold Station Theta - Promenade

Cold Station Theta... the home away from home for some and the port of call for the Vindicator and her weary crew, they'd been docked for repairs for a few hours and Almar had found himself setting some time aside to get out of the ship and stretch his legs for a while, he'd found himself in one of the bars on the promenade and was making his way through a small selection of their real alcohol selection, they had much more on offer but he was pacing himself and not looking to get too drunk considering he had a large pile of paperwork to get through, there was a slight breeze passing through the bar from the environmental systems, his braid swayed as it caught the air, he'd kept it tied loosely and it spread as the air caught it.

"Goldschlager," The smokey atmosphere of the bar did little to conceal Rochelle's voice as she cut through a small crowd of dabo players to take roost beside the Cardassian. "It's rumored that the little flakes of gold cut the inside of your throat and allow the alcohol to enter your blood stream faster for a better buzz." She added. There were rumors, then there were half truths, and then there was the cold hard facts. Almar had become a target the very moment Rochelle had learned of her doppelganger, their history, and just how precarious the nature of their relationship was. If ever she was going to drive a wedge, it would be sideways by tipping the carefully crafted control both seemed to hold. Watching him now, her eyes dusky in the dim light, she almost felt sorry for the poor son of a bitch. After everything, all the stories, he was the one sitting in some shabby Ferengi run bar instead of sitting beside the Commodore wherever it was she'd run off to for the evening. "Do it straight or as liquid cocaine, you may just forget all about that ridiculous planet." Chuckling, she managed to flag a bar tender over, "Tell me," The redhead grinned, "Do you have any idea what a Duck Fart is?" She asked, the Ferengi nodded, "That... And I think my fine friend may try a Liquid Cocaine?" Her eyebrow rose in question as she looked at Almar from the corner of her eye.

"You seem in an oddly... alcoholic mood, Rochelle," the Cardassian replied, not looking up from the drink he was currently nursing, the fuzz from the previous drinks having fallen over him was beginning to cloud his vision and his reasoning, no matter how much he tried to hold on and ensure that it didn't affect him as much as it appeared to, "I'll try one, it's been a while since I had something different."

"Liquid Cocaine." The redhead nodded and shooed the bar tender off to gather their order, leaving them alone once again, "Sometimes things call for a little liquid therapy that bubble baths can't meet or solve on their own." Brushing a wayward lock of hair away from her eyes and back behind her ear, she regarded him, "Something told me that bath time with a bottle of wine on my lonesome would be selfish. I was right." Her hand rested on his shoulder, at first a pat and then settling into a rub over the hard scaled, and surprisingly warm, skin where his fan tied into the muscle, "You need company." If she had to judge by the way he carried himself and the candor of his voice, the next drink - especially one as potent as the shot being delivered - would tip the scales ever in her favor. It didn't mean she couldn't take her time and enjoy the coffee flavored drink set in front of her... And she did. Drawing it to her lips with a smile and appreciation for the slow burn of the whiskey component of it, watching with patient, glittering eyes as the Cardassian did himself in.

Her hips shifted, directing the rotating stool to face him, and with no great fanfare she re-crossed her legs to keep the hem of her sundress from riding too terribly high as she reached for his braid. "Almost iridescent it's so dark..." She hummed in sheer appreciation as she toyed with it, following it up to the nape of his neck, "You'll have to share with me your upkeep secrets. The shine is impeccable." Small talk small talk all hidden with intent. She was no stranger to the art of suggestion.

Almar accepted the drink as the barman placed it in front of him and lifted the glass to his lips, allowing it to slip through them. He felt the alcohol continue to work it's magic and warm him from the inside, "After everything that happened, I'm unsure what I want or what I need, the only thing I know for sure, Rochelle is that I need time." he replied with a slight smile as he felt her reach for his braid, "It's not difficult, again it just takes time."

"Time is a thief, Almar." She countered, tugging gently on the base of the braid, "it takes things from us, namely life and experience, and gives us nothing in return but regret." The tugging quit, her hand quiet as it chose to change pace and knead its fingers into the back of his neck, "You, of all people, should know that best of all."

He closed his eyes, a combination of the alcohol, lowered inhibitions and the feel of her hand rubbing the back of his neck played havok with his emotions, every fiber of his being knew this was wrong and yet he couldn't bring himself to put a stop to it, "Time is a bastard, it's taken everything when given the opportunity and yet it gives nothing back."

"And it likely never will." Rochelle nodded in perfect agreement, finishing the elixir of her choice with a content little sigh. Things were warm, the flavors bold, but she was no where near as far gone as the Cardassian beside her. He didn't need to know that. "One more. Maybe something smooth." She grinned, mischievous and impish as she curled her fingers to beckon the Ferengi bar tender close, "I..." she drew the single letter word out with a giggle, "would like a purple starfucker," the Ferengi didn't bat an eye lash until she directed his attention towards Almar, "And he..." she drawled leaning against him, "is going to have a buttery nipple because no one can resist a little butterscotch, among other things." Her fingers traced along the line of scales that followed the span of his spine as she spoke. Any second now and she'd have him right where she needed him.

"If I didn't know any better, Commodore," Almar began as he slurred his words around the remnants of his last drink and turned to glance at her, "I'd say that you were trying to intentionally get me drunk, which is odd considering the events of the last few days." he added, the smile that crossed his face was distinctly drink-fueled.

"After the last few days, you need a few stiff drinks." She countered, listening to the tell tale warble of a man who was considerably intoxicated. Her eyes met his, observing the constricted nature of his pupils and the slowness in which he moved. Best of all... That smile. "Getting you drunk?" She shrugged gently with a titter of laughter, her hands running the length of his arm closest to her, "I don't think there's any getting you there anymore. Pretty sure I should be cutting you off and walking you home." Rochelle's fingers laced with his tugging him to follow her off the stool he sat on and away from the bar.

With his usual barriers shattered by the drinks he'd been feeding himself and allowing her to feed him, Almar found himself on his feet and allowing himself to be led away from the bar, his larger frame felt unsteady as he legs threatened to give way under his swaying bulk as they walked out of the bar and towards... he wasn't sure where they were heading, in his mind he was barely conscious and was floating along the promenade.

It was perfect... they hadn't expected it to be this easy to obtain the samples they needed, the Ferengi handed off the glasses that the two had been drinking from without a moments hesitation, he'd been paid handsomely for his services, the towering Cardassian had been selected early on by their patron as the target for the male DNA selection, the woman had been described as his immediate superior, the phoenix of a woman who bore the name Ivanova, the fact that they had both wandered into the same bar and shared drinks at the same time was most fortuitous indeed.

It took a bit longer than she'd thought it would, the massive Cardassian requiring several rest stops where she carefully balanced him against a bulkhead and peppered him with teasing comment after teasing comment as he regained his composure and equilibrium. One drink more would have landed him on his ass, unconscious, and her opening would have been lost. As it was, while she was nearly certain he was about the keel over while she keyed in the code to open the doors to the quarters she'd been ever so careful to have assigned in his name. It was amazing what kind of pull her Commodore doppelganger had - all the things she could accomplish simply by asking... Or telling. "Bed? Couch? Do you have a preference for where I drop you off or is it dealers choice tonight." The redhead had to wrap her arms around his waist and use entire meager weight as leverage to keep him from careening off into what looked to be a very expensive, very fragile, glass table. At the same time, while awkward, it gave her the chance to sneak her hands under his jacket and shirts, shirking fabric from where some of it had been carefully tucked away. The reward? The coolness of her fingers against the oddly soft skin of the small of his back. "Keep it steady, one foot in front of the other... Who knew Cardassians became newborn fawns after a couple shots."

The trip to the quarters were a blur to the Cardassian as he allowed himself to be maneuvered into the room, he stumbled towards the couch and fell away from her touch as he reached it, his heavy frame sinking into the comfort offered by the plush fabric, "Couch is comfy," Almar replied with a chuckle as he rolled onto his back and kicked his legs up onto the end of the couch, "Drunk, allowed to be unsteady."

"Boots. Off." She nodded towards them, wandering off in search of finding him a blanket or a sheet. At least he'd be comfortable, and it was still something she figured she could work with. If anything it made the entire situation more damning more... Realistic. Still, her patience was running thin and time was of the essence if she was going to pull this off, drive the start of that wedge, and disappear back into the ether to let psychological nature take its merry course.

Almar slipped off his boots and kicked them towards the corner of the room without lifting his head from the couch, combined with the effect of the drink it was pulling him from consciousness and he closed his eyes and let the feeling overcome him, he was weary... tired of everything that life had thrown at him in the last few years.

Unfurling the blanket she tossed it over the lump of a man, and sighed, "You need water unless you want to feel like shit tomorrow." It wasn't a suggestion, and the reality of it struck when she found herself replicating the biggest glass of the stuff she possibly could. For a second she considered getting him a bucket to go along with it, but, peering over her shoulder, decided he was faring far better than that and would continue to do so provided he actually listened. Why she cared, however, was completely and totally beyond her scope of reason. "Sit up, sip it slowly." Rochelle sighed, coming to light on the edge of the couch and holding the glass out to him, waiting for him to take it. A sleeping, or puking, Almar Dahe'el would do her no good when it came to her plans. "It's like you've no skill when it comes to drinking."

"Don't drink often." Almar replied as he forced himself to half sit up and accept the glass of water, part of him knew that it was a good idea but it was a struggle to comply with her orders, "Synthale normally." he few small sips and let his head fall back over the back of the couch, his eyes closing again, "Bad influence, Rochelle."

"I'm a bad influence? Says the one who was three sheets to the wind when I found you in the bar." The redhead snorted indifferently, her fingers poking him in ribs as she demanded his attention, "This was something you started, Almar, and all I did was finish it." She sighed, poking harder, "You have a lot more water to drink if you want any chance of avoiding a hang over, you can hate and thank me for it later."

"Never hate you," Almar slurred as he lifted his head again and took another few sips of the water he'd been given, "No power in the 'verse..." he added as he began rolling his head around and he lay back on the couch.

Another snort, highly unladylike, but the point was made all the same. She could see the color of his skin changing, the pink flush of the alcohol rising to the surface. Maybe that last buttery nipple had been one too many. "You may change your mind abut that." She replied. Of course he would. That's why she was there, after all. Drive that wedge deep, start to separate the queen from those who knew her best, prepare for the trade of their lives. "I'll be here, pestering and demanding that you listen to me until you do. Then you'll be sober and wondering about all those little things that had driven you to get plastered in the first place. That's when the resentment will come... Why?" Rochelle draped herself across his chest, surprised at the ease in which it continued to rise and fall beneath her weight, "because I'll have robbed you of the stupor you seem hard pressed to revolve in. Kind of like those Jefferies Tubes. Can't hide anymore, Almar." Oh Intel, precious intel, memories and more. It seemed real enough, though they weren't hers, but she knew how to use them none the less. "I won't let you." She added, tapping the pad of a finger against the scales of his chin.

"Hah!" Almar shouted in his drunken stupor as her words made their way through the haze that was covering his mind, "No hiding, executive officer can't hide," the Cardassian replied as he waved an arm wildly in the air before looking down at her with half opened eyes, "No resentment, we've talked, come to terms with the way things are, difficult but I'm happy," his last few words dissolved into a slur as his head rolled back again.

Her head tilted as she regarded him with sincere curiosity. The realization of his half truth spread across her face in the form of a grin, dawning bright and bold. "You're full of shit, Almar." And just like that, she knew she had her in.

"Mhmm," Almar mumbled, he was slipping again from consciousness and the feeling was liberating, it had been far too long since the last time he'd truly let go and unwound, the Cardassian had always been tightly wound and incredibly hard on himself, forcing himself into the work that bought him some measure of contentment and avoiding anything that could be considered... a complication, "Time... heals..." he murmured.

"Sometimes." Rochelle replied, resting easily on her warm roost. The fingers of one hand reached to trace the hardlined scales of his jaw as she watched him once again try and succumb to the lure of the alcohol in his system, "Sometimes it just makes the absence all the more impossible to deal with." His lower lip, full and thick, was soft as satin and one of the few places she could see any hint of color aside from smoke and alabaster. Seeing him so placid, so gentle when compared to his counterpart, was alarming and intriguing all in the same twisted moment, but it was plain to see that rumors and conjecture were real and alive and well. "I love you, you know... More than I should." The redhead gave the briefest of shrugs as she continued, "It's harder than you think it is to pretend to ignore all that. Feels like it's looking a gift horse in the mouth, but I love you and time isn't making it go away. It's making the cut from not being able to have you go deeper and deeper."

"I know you do, always have known." the Cardassian replied, his words still slurred and heavy with drink as his mind raced through the words that she was feeding into him, he likely wouldn't remember much of this night given how much he'd had to drink but the feel of her against him and the soft caress of her words digging into his mind was something he couldn't ignore, "You also love him, cannot ignore that either." he added with a drunken chuckle.

There was a soft huff of a snort from her as she listened to what he had to say. The rumors had been right on the mark, ushering in a new wave of knowledge that felt wrong to exploit, but she did so with glee, "Wouldn't you do the same if what was once lost was found?" She asked, pausing in her touches for a second, "It's going through the motions at this point." A single finger traced his brow-line, first one, then the other, before circling the 'spoon' in the center of his forehead, "Sometimes it's all I can do to keep from calling your name." Rochelle arced closer, pressing her lips to where her fingers had been just the whisper of an instance before.

Time was once again proving to be the enemy of the Cardassian as he felt her lips press against the curve of his forehead, it stirred in him feelings that had laid buried for a long time, ever since they had parted ways when Landon had returned, "I don't know, never had, never lost." he slurred with a smile that crossed his lips, he sighed heavily before rocking his head forwards sightly and opening his eyes, "Must be dreaming."

"Not quite, but almost." She crooned. The dim light caught the glint of his fathomless black eyes, letting them shine like oil even in the shadows. "In many ways you did have, then you did lose, and now it's more or less sitting in your lap... Or rather," Rochelle quirked a grin and reached to pat part of his chest that she didn't occupy, "You get the idea. Not quite dreaming, either. You just had a bit too much to drink, that's all."

"Or rather sprawled over me." Almar replied with a chuckle that shook through his chest and dislodged a few errant hairs from his braid, he reached down to lift the end of his hair over the back of the couch and allowed it to drag his head backwards again, exposing the heavy scales of his neck and the fan that struck out from his chest, her grin was as intoxicating as the drinks she'd been feeding him when she had arrived in the bar, "Part of me always wishes that I had been able to say the words."

"Just part?" Rochelle asked, teasingly soft. The flash of dove colored scales caught her eye and directed her attention in their direction. Sensitive and warm, they were prime targets for any number of assaults. Hers came by the same way of the one launched against his forehead; the stroke of fingers followed up by lips. The role she played was easy enough to fall into - when it came to Cardassians, Almar Dahe'el had always been the cream that rose to the surface by way of his aura and striking good looks. A chud, he was not.

"Just part," he parroted as he felt her accept the invitation and start feeling and kissing on the fans of his neck, it drove him past the point of no return and fueled by the drink he allowed his arms to embrace her, his large, rough hands taking the curves of her body and pressing them close to him, massaging them with a touch that was lighter than one would expect, "Part was just glad to still have you in my life." he finished as one hand raised to below her chin and lifted it to bring her lips to his.

His mouth still tasted of butterscotch. Warm. Delicious. Something different. Rochelle met the kiss and returned it, humming softly as he tugged her closer to him. Progress was a wonderful thing, reaping a sample of the spoils of a coming war was even better. Her legs flexed to move her, bringing her astride him, though she kept her mouth near his, savoring the fullness of his lower lip, "Noble." She quipped, arching her back into his touch, "Maybe even sweet. You deserved better than that."

A primal hunger was welling up within Almar, it had threatened to break free when they had been together in Crown King, he'd been splitting at the seams when things had cooled off due to his inability to speak the words, the words that she had been asking for may have well sealed their relationship and the path they had taken may have been very different, he couldn't bring himself to tear his lips away from hers and his kisses grew in their hunger, their need as he lost himself to the drink that had bought them to this situation, all thoughts of resistance broken under her touch.

It wasn't long before her fingers were skirting up the planes of his belly, dragging his shirts up and along for the ride until she was able tug them up over his head. It meant for a quick break in the series of starving kisses, a chance to breathe, to assess the situation she'd found herself in. Prime universe Almar Dahe'el was an amalgamation of lust and need and want and satisfaction all rolled into one man that happened to be intoxicated on both alcohol and a woman. Sitting up, Rochelle returned the favor, beginning to fumble with the buttons of her own shirt. The new sensation of her weight being driven against the saddle of his pelvis drew from her something that could only be described as a whimper, "Stupid buttons," She hissed, rocking herself against him as she fought with button four of what felt like infinity.

He was lost... lost to the feeling of having her back in his arms again, back in the same situation that they'd found themselves in previously and halted, the drunken haze that fogged his mind and clouded his judgement pushed him ever onward as he lent forward and began planting kisses on the soft, supple flesh of her neck, his hands found her the smooth porcelain skin of her back and his fingers traced patterns with no meaning as his desperate kisses moved further south, laying themselves across her shoulder and onto the subtle curve of her collarbone.

Ridding herself of her shirt, at last, Rochelle felt her head tip back, giving the Cardassian ample access to her throat and the rise of her clavicle... Whatever it was that he wanted. The shift in angle was almost enough to make her see stars, and her hands braced against him as he rose, steadying herself only to find those same hands plucking at the clasp and zipper of his pants. "Love you..." She hummed, ever mindful of the task and situation - ever mindful of just who and what it was that she was working with... The danger, the intrigue. The fathoms of emotions that tethered him forever to the woman who's life she toyed with. "Gods do I love you," Rochelle egged him on, lifting her hips only to encourage the fabric of his pants off of his.

Her words drew a slight pause in his kisses as he lifted his hips from the couch and helped her move his pants from around his hips and down his thighs, "Rochelle." he breathed, his heart rate climbing as he lowered himself back down and resumed his fevered kissing across to the other side of her neck, "I love you too..." he managed to get out between kisses.

With her own jeans soon joining his as nothing more than cooling bits of cloth discarded and crumpled on the floor, Rochelle took one last long look at him. The flush across his skin, the flex of muscles, the power contained that he had no idea even existed. What had often been seen as a savage Gul turned into a kitten, purring for want and love and pleasure of being loved. In many ways she thought he was beautiful in his gentleness where his alter ego was such a savage. A quick movement, the crane of her neck, allowed her to intercept his kisses and capture his butterscotch mouth with hers once more. Anchoring her for the moment when life, for him... For the Commodore, would change. The scales would tip. The damage irreversible... But so very delicious.

So very very delicious...

---

Commander Almar Dahe'el
Executive Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F

&

Rochelle Ivanova (MU)
Privateer
Romulan Star Empire

 

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