JDL | Com Ivanova, Cmdr Waterhouse - "It's Raining Men"
Posted on Mon Mar 2nd, 2015 @ 1:35am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Commander Amelia Waterhouse
1,387 words; about a 7 minute read
Mission: A Spot To Kill
The throne room was quiet aside from the occasional cough of scuff of a toe against the floor, a silence that, in totality, was almost deafening. It broke with the sound of the Queen's exasperated sigh as she shifted her weight in her seat and folded her fingers around the end of the throne's arms. Unamused, tired, and bored, Rochelle was the picture of tension and disinterest all wound into one silk wrapped package. "Let it begin." She said, looking to where Amelia sat cross legged beside her with a PADD in her lap.
"None of them measure up to Almar or Landon," Amelia muttered, flicking through the list with an annoyed huff. Suddenly she stopped, scrolled back to one she passed, and tilted her head in consideration. "Well, when you inevitably reject them all, maybe I should see if Rik's interested in a three-way with this one..." Amelia held the PADD up where Rochelle could see the picture of one that had particularly chiseled facial features.
Scowling, Rochelle reached down and flicked Amelia's nose. She'd have slapped the woman if she'd cared more. "Just... Parade them through one by one." None of them would add up to much of anything even when compared to a frog, let alone Almar or Landon, but one of them would have to be picked, primped, primed, and made to believe the angry little creature was ready to wed them. All she wanted to do, however, was melt away into the cushion she sat on... Or escape back to the Vindicator, nuke the planet, and feign innocence when asked what happened to the smoldering piece of rubble formerly known as Atlantis Prime. Maybe, if she played her cards right, she could incite the Romulans to do it for her... Maybe if — She stopped herself, realizing that no amount of hateful daydreams would liberate or alleviate the situation at hand.
Amelia rubbed the back of her hand across her nose. That's what she gets for trying to keep Rochelle's spirits up while buying time. She shook her head slowly, and turned her attention back to the PADD as she got a look at the first one being lead up for Rochelle's gaze. The willowy one tugged at the skirt of her dress, and adjusted her position on the cushion so that her legs were folded together to one side, as she flicked through the list on the PADD to find the man that stood in front of them.
He was a tall specimen, a paler shade of bronze with hair that was more white than blonde, but Rochelle didn't care about his coloring or the way he was put together. He stood there, waiting, expectant of her approval or at least of her inspection. It never came. The Queen looked down to Amelia, questioning her thoughts without a single word, "Next?" She asked, waiting to see if her friend agreed.
"I don't know, it's kinda refreshing to see one so pale, it would mean you'd go well together for the requisite royal holophotos," Amelia quipped even as she flicked the PADD to the next one. She lifted her finger and twirled it around, to get him to turn, and Amelia whistled softly. "You could crack walnuts on that ass though."
"Next." Rochelle called, fighting to hide the defiant smirk that tickled at the corners of her mouth. The pale Atlantean skulked off, crestfallen that he'd been plucked from the call without even a 'maybe'. The male that followed suit was shorter than the majority of them that she'd seen, but build like a fire plug. Her nose wrinkled slightly and her head shook as it rolled to the side to look again at Amelia.
"At least you wouldn't need a step ladder with him," was the best Amelia could come up with. She didn't even waste her time looking him over much and flipped to the next one in the PADD.
Rochelle scoffed lightly and waves the man on, "Thanks for coming out, next." She ushered him off with, shifting uneasily in her seat. Three in and she was more than ready for it to be over and done with. "What... Am I looking at?" She asked Amelia, not evening bothering to study the man on parade.
"He reminds me of a surfer I dated on and off while at the Academy. I wonder if he has the same tattoo on his ass," Amelia leaned forward, considering asking him to display his posterior. "Probably not, though he is easy on the eyes."
"By all means." Rochelle motioned for Amelia to proceed however she saw fit and further distanced herself from the ordeal -- or so she thought as she averted her eyes and studied her nails. It had been awhile since her last manicure, well over a week, and she was quick to try and study them for signs of wear and tear.
"Youl heard the queen, let us see that ass," Amelia insisted with a smirk. If only Kyym was there to be scandalized.
It happened. Without batting an eyelash, the Atlantean dropped his cloth covering and exposed his posterior to Amelia and the Queen. The latter of the two closed her eyes and shook her head, holding her hand out in front of her to block out the vision of the bronze hued ass and stifled a choke. "I should have known better than to call your bluff!" She whined at the quarter Klingon to her right. "That's enough, get dressed. Next!"
"Don't you wish the bitch was here to see that though?" Amelia asked softly, leaning towards Rochelle with a giggle. "Forget walnut boy, that one could have cracked marble. Where is Kyym anyways, wouldn't she want to supervise this to make sure you picked the right one?"
Open a single eye after she was certain she'd heard the Atlantean shuffle off, Rochelle sighed and the light in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "According to her, they're all right. I'm sure she's just off haunting a different room." Rochelle replied indignantly as the next contestant stepped right on up, "What the Hell are they feeding them?" She sighed, eyeing him. He wasn't the beautifully sculpted Trill or the massively built Cardassian, but he, like the rest of them, was stacked and cut. "I wonder if she chose from her own private collection." The Queen mused and shook her head, covering her face once again. "The entire thing just makes me feel about two inches tall. I want out."
"Until we find a way to get you out of here, you have to play along. At least enjoy the eye candy... like take him for example? Couldn't you just eat chocolate off him?" Amelia grinned wide as she asked this, and twirled her hand to make him spin around for further inspection.
"No. No I couldn't." Rochelle sighed and watched the Atlantean twirl. It truly amazed her just what lengths the poor son of a bitch was willing to go through. "Pick one for me, Amelia... Whichever one gives you the giddies." She said, knowing full well that her cohort was completely and thoroughly enjoying herself.
"Oh, well, in that case, bring surfer boy back... what was his name," Amelia turned her attention to the PADD, waving her hand to dismiss the man standing in front of them. "Orinn. Bring Orinn back." She then flicked through the list quickly, pausing occasionally to flick backwards. "And let's see Namor and Arthyrr."
One by one the men came forth until they stood in a row... Like ducks. They were ducks. Puddle stomping creatures that left Rochelle wanting to throw things at them -- and not bread crumbs either. She looked at them through callous eyes, her mind far away on Landon and Almar as she did, and knew that what she was abut to have to go through with would likely break all three. Landon, however, was likely safe, sound, and well protected from ever hearing about the fate that had befallen the little Queen. "Orinn." Was all she said, dismissing the others, and herself, as she rose from the throne in a flourish of copper silks to take her leave.
---
Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78223-E
&
Commander Amelia Waterhouse
Executive Officer
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E
RSS Feed