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JL | Com Ivanova, Lt Merlin | "Having a Blast"

Posted on 241801.22 @ 02:45 by Lieutenant Anaxar Shran & Commodore Rochelle Ivanova

Mission: Ballynamony
Location: Cold Station Theta
Timeline: SD 241801.22

The man dressed like the Goblin King from an old Earth movie slowly wandered through the room, occasionally exchanging a line with this person or that, making a quip or a joke, then moving on again. The glass balls made regular appearances: first one, then two, then three, then disappearing again. Eventually his wandering course brought him close to the personifications of ice and fire, standing near each other.

"'Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice'," he quoted softly. Or at least for what passed for softly here, meaning, just loud enough to be heard above the music and the chatter. He gave them both a courteous bow. "Greetings, oh, elementals of Fire and Ice."

The part of the face which was visible of the fire elemental blushed a fierce red which perfectly matched the rest of her outfit. She bowed back and muttered something along the lines of: "Pleased to meet you but there's someone over there I need to see-" and dashed off hurriedly, her gown dancing around her like a living flame.

The lady of ice followed the hasty departure of counterpart with widened, snowy eyes. The retreat had been so fast that it had truly taken the frost-queen by surprise, allowing her head to turn in the direction fire had departed until the bright elegant beauty of the little coruscation was simply snuffed out by the enveloping clouds of dancers. "Greetings." She offered, her gown, the snow, sighing as she dipped into a dramatic courtesy out of respect to the Goblin King. "Poor timing if, from what you've tasted of desire truly hold with those who favor fire." Rochelle couldn't help but feel her lips curl into the briefest of smirks as she rose to face the suave one with the wild hair.

"So I'm left with the hate and destruction of ice?" The face was invisible under the goblin mask, but the smile in the voice was unmistakable. "That would be rather dramatic for this poor arboretum." He indicated the space around them with a slender hand, over which a glass ball danced before disappearing again.

"Depends on whether or not you see it as hate and destruction." Rochelle replied with a nod and the smirk blossomed into a bemused little smile, her eyes following the shine of the crystal ball, "Tell me, Jareth, are you not aware that winter is only a renaissance? It's not a period of death... It's a period of renewal and rebirth. Ice and fire destroy in much the same way." She hummed, turning upon him with a fine tilt of her head. Sometimes costumes and characters were fun to fall away into, and without his true name, the name of the Goblin King was the only that could pass her lips and play about his ears. "A little snow would be the right amount of magic left for this place."

"The elemental sees deep, and the elemental sees true," the man said, inclining his head slightly. "Then let there be snow." Again he moved his hand, but now tiny flakes drifted down from his sleeve, flew through the air in a graceful arc to land at their feet. "Though very local. After all, I wouldn't want to freeze the fire, or the poor butterfly, or risk extinguishing the star…" A tilt of the head indicated the various persons in the crowd.

A crystal and pearl covered brow rose as she watched snow, and not her own holoprojected flakes, fall to play and dance about the pair of them. It hung to the air, gracefully swaying back and forth until it met the zephyrs of their breath and then scattered perilously to the flooring below. "Some magician." She touted gently, nodding in appreciation of his skill and craft. "A wise one at that." Her fingers rose, graced by ice-like nails, allowing the pads of them to play about the fall. For so long she'd avoided the stuff, learning to hate and curse it... And there she was - covered in it, allowing it to settle upon her as she remained as a manifestation of its presence in and of herself. Maybe that was why Ra'lin had chosen to change things up and prohibit her from hiding behind her usual brazen mask of fire. Then again... Ra'lin, like the magician, liked riddles. "What about you? Do you freeze or do you burn?"

"Ah…" He held out both hands, palms turned up. Above one a snowflake appeared, turning gently to and fro. Above the other hand, a little flame. "Choices, choices…" Again that smile in his voice. "I choose to be the one in the middle," he said then, gravely, bringing both hands together and making both snow and flame disappear. "Sometimes fire, sometimes ice. Sometimes the eye of the storm. Sometimes the mad whirlwind that surrounds the eye. Sometimes the player, sometimes played. But I shall temper my fire, lest you melt." A glass ball danced around his hands in time with his words.

"Melt?" She questioned, wry and completely amused, "Me? Ah but you've forgotten how face value is rarely ever reality."

"Have I now?" He sounded equally amused, even slightly mocking. The glass ball actually left his hand and began to drift towards her. "Then by all means, do your worst. Maybe you'll freeze me. So..." he extended his hand, the ball obediently returned to it and disappeared. "Shall we dance?"

Setting her jaw, though it lifted as if to rally to the challenge at hand, Rochelle's fingers followed the ball back into the palm of the Goblin King's hand. Why everyone, just about, had to be so much taller and larger than her - with rare exception - chugged across the little Commodore's mind about the same time she stepped up to take her place before him on the dance floor. The difference wasn't as dramatic as it had been when she taught Anaxar to waltz, but it was still so very blatant. Even as she rose on the tippiest tip toe her shoes could allow for to bring her lips near his ear, she was a long way off meeting his height. "You forgot, Jareth, that frost burns." was all she whispered before retreating back to her lady-like stance before him, waiting for him to whisk her off into the undulating crowd.

"Not at all," he quietly murmured back, as he lead her onto the dance floor and swept her away. "I'm a firm believer in 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'. So, let us burn." He danced like his persona was supposed to dance: a strong leader, making the occasional daring, dashing, suggestive move. Always toeing the line, but meticulously never crossing it.

And for her part, Rochelle was keen to follow. It was easy to be swept up in the energy of he moment - allowing him more liberties than she'd have been comfortable with had she been in uniform... Or had she known who he was. He was bold, perhaps not without reason, and diligent, purposeful, masterful in his strides. If anything, he challenged her to rise to his occasion in a manner that left her most pleased. It wasn't often that she was left having to think about the routine or void of concern for the well being of her toes. Open shoes had made her nervous, he erased that worry. "Pyromania is a bad thing." She hummed, just loud enough for him to hear, "What do they call it when someone is obsessed with playing with ice?"

A quite long, serious silence followed. He spun her through a complex twirl, then pulled her close to him again. "Gelatoludomania, I think. Obsessed with playing with ice." He nodded gravely. "Yes. That must be it."

And answer for everything, that's what he had. As she returned to him post spin, she couldn't help but wonder what else lay beneath that cool exterior. He wasn't one of her crew, of that she was absolutely certain. There was no sense of familiarity there, no sense of connection beyond the fact she was certain he belonged to Starfleet, or at least the Federation. He wasn't Almar. She'd know Almar anywhere if only by the way he touched and handled her. He wasn't Vulcan. No Vulcan could ever be as charismatic or push as many buttons. It simply was their nature to be dry. Andorian? Just as unlikely. Klingon? No dice. The build wasn't right for a Klingon and they simply had no use for Robert Frost. Midnight would say a lot, "Is there anything you don't have answer to?" She asked, coy, intricately stepping in and out of his footwork as he set the path.

"Oh yes, many things!" the Goblin King exclaimed with sudden enthusiasm. "It would be a boring old universe if all the answers were known. There is a room full of riddles right here -" he spun her around in a full circle, "-and more mysteries on our very doorstep. But for now, let them remain a mystery. Tonight, at midnight, some riddles will be answered, while others will remain."

The waltz ended and the dancers stopped, some remained on the dance floor to await the next, others wandered away in search for a seat, a drink, a chat. "A simple question to which I have no answer, for instance," 'Jareth' continued smoothly, "is, what do you want?"

"Wouldn't you love to know." the Snow Queen chuckled lightly, offering him no more than a wink and the elegance of a partial bow before she spun on her heels and dipped away from the strange Goblin King in nothing more than a puff of ice and frost undulating out behind her in whisps and spirals of wintertide's finest.

His laughter followed her as she moved away, sounding both mocking and delighted at once.

Commodore Snow Queen
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F

Lieutenant Goblin King
CStratOps
Cold Station Theta

 

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