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

Posted on Tue Sep 9th, 2014 @ 6:52am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Vlimar PontBrillant
Edited on on Sat Sep 13th, 2014 @ 7:24am

2,397 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Are You Touched?

The man allowed a small, shy smile to appear as she asked if he heard the rumors. Of course he had, they were rampant, living. A rumor was like a steam train, you hear the whistle long prior to seeing its source. That was the essence of the problem with rumors, the whistle always lead to a train far smaller than expected. Vlimar listened carefully, committed to her as his eyes followed her fingers for a brief second, then found their way back to her eyes, attempting to de-crypt her very soul. She had her ghosts, he had has and now they shared them, these ghosts, these stories. Vlimar had long ago made peace with their existence, sitting on his chair, on his estate, watching his vines grown from within his chair. Perhaps he could be part of Rochelle's process, perhaps ever fill the gap in her life. There was, however, no way to tell. He was just a man returning to his regiment, allowing himself to live... To love.

Vlimar slowly, carefully, allowed himself to touch her. His hand reached to meet the red of her hair near her temple, to which he slowly pushed it away from her eyes, moving to her cheek and across her neck. His touch was a feather, barely touching her skin as he lead her hair behind her ear. "L'amour est la vie, la vie est amour." replied Vlimar, softly as he gazed into her eyes.

Pele.

She was fire, burning brightly, savagely. Forbidden to be touched and yet she seemed to draw him like a moth to her open flame. She stayed for his touch long enough for him to brush the errant lock of copper back behind her ear, long enough to hear his murmured words as they caressed the air between them smooth as silk. Yes. Love is life and life is love, but was either sentiment meant for her to have and to hold? The moment they faded, those beautiful words, back to nothingness, she shook her head and began to feel cold panic well within her. The Queen's pale hand came up to grip the knight's olive skinned wrist, stilling his touch along her skin and holding him fast. "No." She corrected him, her wide eyes flickering back and forth across his face as she searched it, "I said no, never without my permission." Her voice had lost its softness as the sense of self endangerment and need for preservation -- the Captain -- had returned and she moved his hand before releasing it, pushing herself back to her feet.

Standing there looking down at him, she felt the cold chill of adrenaline rushing through her veins, urging her to disappear back to Qapla' and away from the situation she found herself in again. This time, however, she pulled the plug before it could go too far. "You don't want me, Vlimar PontBrillant." She said, hurriedly, untying the savage gray and leaping to his back in one fluid motion. Rochelle was forced to settle quickly as the animal startled and spun beneath her. "I'm no good for you or anyone else." Untying his horse and taking off with the animal in tow became a thought, a real suggestion of leaving him out there to learn a bitter lesson along his walk home, but she quickly dismissed the idea. It wouldn't have been fair. Something in her normally rash and vicious little mind told her no, to stop, to stay and try to explain the thousands of thoughts and reasons coursing through her mind and veins. Almar. Landon. Vindicator. Atlantis Prime. So. Many. Thoughts.

Vlimar looked up at Rochelle as he sprung into a sitting position. "Hold on," He said, his hand lifting in submission, "Don't go." He asked of her, "Please..." He added, his voice soft and the thought unbearable. It was Vlimar's heart talking, the rest of the man still paralyzed by the shock. He observed her for a second, leaving the silence between them to take over, ruling the environment as if the birds and the insects all stopped singing for a moment to simply watch.

Her hands tight on her reins and a tuft of her mount's charcoal mane, Rochelle swallowed hard and fought everything that made her who she was in order to stay and not simply leave him sitting there. The stallion blew a heavy rush of hot air, pawing with impatience as she waited for his mistress's command. Please was what caught her attention, the sound of the word so strained as it passed through his lips. "Do you promise to keep your distance?" She asked, her heart in her throat.

The Frenchman, watching her, remained silent for a few more seconds. He didn't move, didn't breathe, he simply thought. He thought how beautiful Rochelle looked at that very moment, strong in spite of her confusion, how her petite stature was in such contrast against the enormous animal standing beneath her. How he found himself at that very moment knowing he'd promised her something that day in the tubo lift, and now he was about to promise something else. So many promises. "Only if you add that I can ignore it should you ask me to break it." He replied, softly, a smile of sympathy tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But, I promise," He added, almost as if to reassure himself of the promise he was making, the last thing in the world he'd ever want to do was make her feel out of place, rushed.

Rochelle considered him, her jaw lifting in its typical air of defiance as she regarded him with her crystalline eyes. He promised her, airing it to all of Qo'noS as he did, and yet she couldn't help but wonder what loop hole he'd try to exploit -- how many more promises she'd have to demand he make over the course of time. She knew the rumors that surrounded him, the tales of his seductive smile and strong hands having melted the hearts of so many women on her ship, but something begged to differ. It said that he was sincere, the same way the fine combination of guilt and fear in his eyes appeared to be so very real and laudable. Again she swallowed at the knot, trying to drown out the intrepid beating of her heart as she tried, mostly in vain, to convince herself that she was safe near him. "Fine." She finally replied, hesitating before dismounting the gray much to his chagrin. "Consider it strike two." One strike away from losing the game and changing the entire playing field, she thought as she re-tied her horse.

Vlimar nodded and motioned for her to sit back beside him. Playfully, he shifted his body away from her, waiting for her to take a seat as he raised his glass of wine to her. "To the Vindi?" He offered with a smile.

Drawing a deep breath Rochelle set her jaw and once again returned to the blanket and to him, albeit warily as she drew up her glass. "To the Vindicator. May she only know the celebration of victory and the eccentricities of happiness from here on out." She nodded in kind, bringing the glass to her lips, wondering just what it was he was playing at. The angles, the notions, the needs, wants, desires -- what reward was it that he sought so persistently.

Slowly he brought his glass to hers until they both rang sharply in collision, their ring high as crystal's usually was. Then, bringing the glass to his lips, he sipped the deep burgundy liquid within, "And may you celebrate happiness every single day of your life as of now." He added assertively.

"May it be so." Rochelle replied in all but a whisper as she sipped her own wine. Happiness, however, was an elusive creature -- a unicorn of sorts in the way it shone so majestically and tempted all that spoke of it. Only few were allowed to touch and holding it seemed strictly forbidden.

Vlimar took another sip, drinking to her agreement to their toast, and lowered his glass. He leaned back, looking at the tall carpet of grass on which their blanket lay. Around them multiple varieties of flowers and other vegetation stood facing the sun. A slow smile crept across his lips as he plucked a deep red wild flower, extending it to the fire bird. "Sometimes, happiness lays there in front of you, simple, fragile. You simply have to pick it up and accept its embrace." he replied, slowly.

"This is very true." She mused, carefully taking the flower from his hand and bringing it to her nose. She'd always loved wildflowers, untamed and placed by only the elements themselves. They were free and full of life, passionate for the sun and the sun alone. "Though, happiness often comes with a price." The Captain's smile was soft, almost demure as she tucked the flower safely behind her ear.

The Commander smiled. "The price of happiness is, often, to allow yourself to be happy." he claimed. "It is a high price to pay, to accept that it can come from someone else's care." he continued slowly looking back at the sky, daydreaming. At that exact moment, Vlimar remembered the emotion of happiness, one he'd felt a long time ago in a better time, perhaps in a better life. He couldn't help but to compare the times and the people populating those memories.

"I don't believe in letting other people take on my problems." Rochelle replied, her head shaking slightly.

"Taking on your problems?" asked Vlimar. He shook his head as well. "It's not about taking the other's problem, but finding and sharing the solutions." he replied, passionately. "It's about having someone to trust and to allow to enter that secret garden, where your relation can only grow." he added, obviously leaving the primary subject of happiness and entering what it had been really about since the beginning.

"As pretty as that is, Vlimar, it's not that simple and you know it." The young woman breathed in response, her eyes searching the grass and trees as she fought for words to express what dwelt in her every heartbeat. Pain. Passion. Sadness. The ever burning grief that danced so delicately around the memory of Landon. The way Almar had risked everything and more to bring the Vindicator into Notura's atmosphere to rescue her -- the way he'd held her and let her cry when she'd been cleared from medical. So much had come to pass and none of it had cleared away the blinding snow and ice that had been left in her heart and soul by that planet and its horrible inhabitants.

She knew what the Frenchman was driving at. Round about it was the same thing Almar was patiently waiting for and guiding her towards. Her head shook again as she gave up her quest for words and simply allowed her eyes to find his.

Vlimar offered a sympathetic smile. He knew what she meant. He nodded, as he grabbed his glass of wine and took another sip. "If only it could be..." he replied, almost silently. This time, he refused to break the visual bond between the two, but as requested, did not make any approach to close the gap between them.

"If wishes were horses..." She said, her smile soft and sad as she read his face and his intentions. It was plain as day to see the ache and the desire, the want and what he perceived as need. She'd become the flame to his moth and, at her behest, his wings flapped a wild tattoo in an attempt to resist the light and the warmth that she offered at risk of being burnt to cinders. The easiest route would have been to forget Landon and forge ahead with life, chalk him up as just another casualty of the war they'd signed up for the moment they'd taken the oath that made them Starfleet officers.

But she couldn't.

Something tugged at her heart and branded her very essence, begging her to wait and mourn -- begging her to walk this weary life alone and try to keep her dignity intact while doing so. But loneliness was a caustic curse, it wasn't meant for something as vibrant as the flame that flickered on that blanket. She knew, eventually, she'd have to make that leap and allow Landon to rest in peace, release herself from the guilt she felt over his death and lay to rest the memories of his words, his touches, his kisses that he spilled so beautifully as he gave his last breath to her.

If wishes were horses, Landon Neyes would be alive.

Rochelle got to her knees, her heart throbbing with the weight of memories and the grief she tried to stow away without being dealt with, and leaned close to press her lips to Vlimar's forehead. "You're a good man, Vlimar." She admonished him as she rocked back onto her heels and found her feet. "We'd better get back before people start to worry and a Ferengi thinks we've stolen his horses."

Vlimar looked at Rochelle as she got to her feet and smiled. "I know." he replied, both to the fact that he was, indeed, a good man and that they should go back prior to the Ferengi calling the... Klingon police? That doesn't seem right. Vlimar stood, packed up the picnic equipment and threw it on the back of his horse, before jumping into the saddle.

Swinging onto the gray stallion's back, the firebrand looked over at Vlimar, watching him and considering the implications surrounding him. He begged for her trust and seemingly ached for something more -- but what was more? She couldn't give more. The stallion tossed his savage little head, bringing her back to reality and she was quick to bump the creature into a jog to keep him busy.

Vlimar offered a smile to Rochelle as she had been considering him. He sent his horse trotting on the trail of the gray stallion, trying to stay at Rochelle's side, in an earshot of a murmur. He was hoping. Hope never dies.

---

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR

&

Commander Vlimar PontBrillant
Strategic Operations Commander
USS VINDICATOR

 

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