Plot Log | Commodore Ivanova - "Bring On The Rain"

Posted on Mon Mar 2nd, 2015 @ 3:59am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova

1,057 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

“Your Majesty, you need an esco—“ The sound of the Atlantean guard’s voice broke and faded away into a multitude of coughs, gasps, and gags. He grabbed for his throat with frantic hands and a pair of bright, arctic blue eyes watched as his bulged in their sockets and became blood shot and filled with panic. There was no remorse there, no fear, but what they lacked was easily made up for by the sheer burning of anger and despair that danced with a heavy measure of hurt and it all swirled violently in those crystalline irises.


“Don’t fight it. Just go down. I don’t envy the headache you’re going to have when you awaken.” The woman said, her eyes glittering and the rest of her face hidden by a bright yellow veil of gossamer and the sound of brass zills rang as she shuffled to help lay the choking guard down on the dusty, dirty, stable floor. He was heavy and so much larger than her and she struggled as she moved to avoid dropping him or falling and being trapped beneath his armored hulk – but when she finally had him down, she gazed at him before she dashed across the cobble stoned aisle and disappeared back into a darkened stall. Inside, and concealed once again by shadows, she was truly dwarfed by the size of the beast she’d arduously set about saddling. She’d been caught while retrieving the animal’s bridle and had been given no choice but to crush the guard’s windpipe with a well-placed punch to keep from being ruined. Nothing would stop her now.

Finding the stables had been by mistake after she’d left meeting her father with a head filled with the howling of wolves. Her every thought seemed to be poisoned and clouded by the raw frozen tide of unwanted emotion and the big war horses were an all too worthy temptation. She’d caved as soon as she’d caught sight of the blue roan’s handsome face and expressive eyes. He represented freedom, he represented an out. It was an out she carelessly exploited without a second thought as she’d removed her bra, and the tracking device within, fastened it to what looked a pig that she quickly freed, and was in the saddle sheer seconds after her horse obediently took the bit between his teeth and she’d fastened the buckle on his bridle.
William had always said that horses had been an Atlantean thing long before humans had dropped down from the trees and started walking on two legs, and she’d always thought he was completely full of hot air, but this… This was a blessing in disguise.

It was a dangerous choice, but she’d made it and there was no turning back as the animal charged from the stable yard with only the burden of his fragile little passenger aboard his broad back. Rochelle’s fingers curled into his mane, allowing the reins to loop against the stallion’s neck, effectively giving him his head and allowing him to move as he pleased… So long as he followed one request: Run. Run and run fast, as fast as his four legs could send him sweeping across the ground in savagely quick succession. She could hear someone shouting for her to stop as she lifted from the saddle to follow the burly animal’s motion over a fence, but chose not to pay attention. Instead she closed her eyes and relished the momentary feeling of flight before moving to recover from the jarring rocking motion of landing.

The yell was replaced by the animal’s grunt and groan as he struggled against gravity and sent his tail lashing through the air in mild irritation. It was a trivial thing, a minor setback that lasted fractions of a second long before the beast’s muscles coiled and rolled and hurtled him forth across the open plains towards freedom and the snowcapped mountains beyond. Rochelle didn’t know if horses existed in wild populations on Atlantis Prime and she certainly didn’t know what existed in the great mountains they charged recklessly towards, but her plan was simple; disappear into the granite cliffs and canyons and set the creature free. It didn’t have to make sense or have questions of sustainability answered. All that mattered was that she was leaving it all behind. All of it. The pain of sending Landon away, the savagery of hurting Almar, the shock of Hark and her mother’s betrayal of him, Blyx’s betrayal of her, Orinn preparing for a marriage she didn’t want, and Kyym who had driven her to the brink. The bitch could have her cake and eat it too knowing the Queen was still planetside and that she’d won. The Vindicator could go on and… Thinking stopped with the sound of hooves hitting rock while grassy loam gave way to gravel and slate and the horse beneath her was forced to slow to try and figure out the technicalities of the path he needed to take. Instinct took over, the reins were tightened, and emotional blathering gave way to analytics and tactics as she helped the animal navigate the rubble to keep them from falling to their deaths or finding themselves faced with any other form of painful, bone snapping alternative.

What she didn’t know, or perhaps deep in the back of her mind she did and chose to repress, was that back at the palace all Hell had broken loose and shit was about to hit the fan when she wasn’t there to sigh and roll her eyes at the last piece of planning or there to participate in whatever ridiculous bonding ritual the Atlantean courts demanded that she engage in. Her crew, and her family, were about to be thrust into the horrific limelight as the first winter storm began to stalk Gibraltar. Time, and fate, had never been on her side and now more than ever they’d chosen cruelty over easy street and Rochelle would pay the price yet again unless change was made, she was found, and life could go on as it was meant to.


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Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

 

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