(Star Trek Mirror!Verse OC
tracking: #ifonlytonightwecouldsleep)
And anyone that dares attempt to poison me is asking for even greater trouble. I am doing them a service, really, by not reacting with the vengeance of which I have seen others do. You, surely, can relate to this.
[sighs and pours out drink] It is no matter. I’ll fix it later. Mister Chekov, have you for me a list of the recently locked target planets in our next system? I’ve yet to receive the information on my PADD, yet I requested you send it to me less than 2 hours ago.
Oh, I do apologize for my lateness. [mock sincere and sweet, a hand to his heart] Is not like I am busy with my own troubles and work. After all, I only exist for you, Dearest.
[drops the act like a bad habit] You will receive the list of targeted planets when I give them to you and not a second sooner, da?
[bites the inside of her cheek, eyes narrowed slightly. She takes a quick intake of breath as if she was going to say something, but stops herself] Sooner, rather than later, sir. And it does not go unappreciated.
[She puts her tricorder back over her shoulder and adjusts her uniform] I suppose we should be heading back to the bridge now. Aren’t you still on duty?
Poison a Vulcan? Seems so futile a task, T’Androma.
Of course, having your own special replicator is just asking for trouble.
And anyone that dares attempt to poison me is asking for even greater trouble. I am doing them a service, really, by not reacting with the vengeance of which I have seen others do. You, surely, can relate to this.
[sighs and pours out drink] It is no matter. I’ll fix it later. Mister Chekov, have you for me a list of the recently locked target planets in our next system? I’ve yet to receive the information on my PADD, yet I requested you send it to me less than 2 hours ago.
Information is power. Why would I— I…? Oh… Excuse me.
(now who wants to volunteer for a potentially heartbreaking thread)
- Remorse: My character is deeply indebted to a character they have wronged/hates/otherwise dislikes. The only way out of it is by doing a genuine good deed for them.
- Sympathy: For at least two days, my character cannot refrain from showing their sincere feelings, whether that be good or bad.
- Mercy: My character will be forced to forgive something your character has done to them. (If this is sent by anon, it's recipient's choice.)
- Proximity: My character needs the companionship of those around them. For one day, they need to constantly be surrounded by someone.
- Vulnerable: My character is forced to tell someone something that puts them at risk. (A secret, a desire, a conquest, etc.)
- Emotional: My character is plunged into despair for one day. The only quick cure is a comforting other.
- Grief: My character has (or believed to have) lost something that they hold dearest. They are unable to function normally until someone manages to convince them it isn't lost.
- Sacrifice: My character believes the only way they can preserve whatever is most precious to them is by performing some self sacrificial act.
[stifled, annoyed sigh]
Who put poison in the Vulcan tea replication again?
okay well school’s been really high intensity lately so i kinda left for a little bit and i was gonna come back last week but then i broke my wrist last monday so it’s been really hard to type because i was in this really obnoxiously inhibiting splint, but now i have the cast and it’s a little easier to type now.
anyway i don’t think i’m really coming off hiatus but i just thought i’d let you guys know c:
spiritualized - ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space
[Pavel covered up his flinch by staring impassively at the door. Touch telepath. She was a touch telepath. And he touched her. His brow furrowed, missing the contact they had shared despite themselves. Despite their customs—her Vulcan nature, his Russian stoicism that crumbled so spectacularly under the weight of his fear and other unwanted emotions—they were kindred. Or as close to kindred as they could be under Empire servitude. Allies, they were allies.
He looked up at T’Androma, at the anguish distorting her normally placid face and hiding in the lines of her mouth, and a heavy dread sunk in his stomach. He did this. He inflicted her with his pain. For one so preoccupied with pain and pleasure, Pavel didn’t delight in it. Not now. Not with her. He wanted to reestablish contact but shied away. His emotions were too out of control, and he could not get them back into control no matter how much he tried.
Twice removed from his body and its reactions, Pavel struggled to comprehend.]
Pawn to…Pawn to…Pawn to… [He repeated until T’Androma placed her hands on his face, wide-set eyes earnest. He tried to shake her off—the last thing he wanted to do was infect her with more of his haphazard emotions—but he couldn’t control himself. She moved away, and in his weakness, a small noise left him, stuck in the back of his throat. She shushed him, wrapping her lithe body around his own, taking back his hands.
Gratefulness shot through Pavel, and he hoped T’Androma could feel that. Could feel what he could not say out loud. T’Androma began to sing, her small, hesitant voice washing over him. His eyes slid partway closed as he latched onto her hands like a lifeline.]
[The song finished, an old Terran song she had heard on the colony when she was younger, and had held onto in a desperate attempt to maintain that same innocent ignorance.
Timidly, tenderly, T’Androma placed a sweet kiss under his jaw and buried her smaller body into his, her hand once again taking fist fulls of his uniform to hold onto, as the other stroked patterns on his palm which she held between them.]
спать, моя любимая одна. Я буду здесь, когда вы просыпаетесь.
[Her eyes were not fully closed, but on their way, her breathing even and slow. T’Androma transferred calming thoughts of rest and comfort to him.]
