Blood is Thicker than Water

I do not often dream.

Vulcans… Do not dream.

Dreams are the products of emotional responses to unconscious thought, and as Vulcans suppress these, they do not experience such.

But I am half-Human… One who’s usual barriers were exhausted prior to my slipping between this state of conscious and not, and so…

I dream.

I dream of gentle music and of the savage beast it soothes. A beast I should fear, a beast I should flee from, a beast…around whom I can only do the opposite of those two things.

I do not fear, because I am fascinated. I cannot flee, because I am drawn. Mesmerized by the grace contained in chaos…by the unique calm and comfort…the enticement I more personally find in the midst of it.

Balance.

War cannot exist without Peace… Peace cannot exist without War.

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~ by Sochya on April 27, 2011.

18 Responses to “Blood is Thicker than Water”

  1. He sleeps fitfully, alternately cherubic and chastened.

    I am more than reluctant to leave his side, it is almost a fear. I do not want him to wake, and find himself alone. As long as he will have me, he will never be alone.

    But I do rise, for a moment during a particularly deep REM cycle, to bathe.

    I return from the rain chamber, and I lay awake, stroking the uniform-clad spine of my Fonn Ashayam, as he sleeps in my quarters.

    He is not required to report for duty today, a fact for which I am exceedingly grateful.

    He has slept most of the 10 hours here, beside me, waking often before returning to his sleep.

    I will be right here to hold him when he wakes.

    • Drifting in and out of a conscious state, I find the familiarity of my Sa-Kai’s body heat -so similar to mine- to be a comfort I welcome, muscles eased here against him where I have slept, drifting in and out, since the evening prior.

      Mental exhaustion, perhaps.

      When consciousness finally does begin to more completely stir, a gently murmured “Na’shaya..”***, leaves my lips.

      A sheepishness is present in me at being seen like this, far from impeccably neat and composed, feeling the strokes along my spine.

      *** Greetings.

      • I read, awkwardly, with one arm beneath the body of my Ashalik Sa-kai.

        Glancing at him as he shifts surprises me, when I see his rendition of my own eyes looking back at me, the most subtle upturn to his lips. Hardly detectable.

        “Ha’tha ti’lu, Fonn Ashayam…”***

        It is a barely audible murmur, the existence of which, hanging in the air between us…causes my cheekbones to shade a pale jade.

        ***Good morning, Loyal Love.

  2. The pale coloring of his cheeks echoes on the tips of my ears at the term of endearment, something certainly not commonly said between mere Sa-Kais.

    Vulcans are far from frivolous, and such terms are not given out idly…and yet even I, the evening prior had referred to him as ‘Ashal-veh’ with such…effortlessness.

    There has been a shift between us, between the light with which we view one another. I divert my gaze, but do not draw away, continuing to rest against him here his side, internally puzzled.

    “If I might..inquire, Ashal-veh,” I pause at the quietly spoken term, “…what is this?” What are we? Two halves to the very same individual.

    • Although I nod in comprehension, I seek clarification

      “Stated due to how I have addressed you, I presume?”

      I feel the need to voice my thoughts to him as he lays supine at my side, even if only to ascertain their existence within him.

      I clear my throat prior to commencing. “I thought it best that I avoid any pretense that communication might render unnecessary. Do…”I pause, unsure “Do you concur?”

      • I incline my head wordlessly in response to his first query, noting that the book he is indulging in reading is the very one he utilized the evening prior.

        I exhale inaudible, staring for a moment before I meet his gaze –my gaze–, listening to his words, comprehending.

        I hesitate only briefly before concurring, “Indeed.”

  3. If he sees the sense of relief within me, he does not make comment. I proceed

    “Very well. There exists, in my world a natural exchange…sometimes between genders, sometimes between two of the same gender. Never between three, of course.”

    I look to him for comprehension and for his thoughts on the matter; alluding of course, to our Vulcan monogamy.

    I notice his eyes dart toward the implement of his Taflaya, and am warmed at once that he seems to regard it with a certain fondness.

    • I draw my gaze away from the tome and to him once more, an understanding present within my brown, human eyes.

      “The same exists here in my world…only ever between two, gender unimportant in comparison to mental compatibility.”

      The mind is what Vulcans hold as the most important, and to encounter someone…so like yourself, yet so simultaneously different, is like encountering a fitting puzzle piece.

      A custom fitted union all its own, the most suitable…bondmate.

      Again, ear tips shade a pale jade.

      “Such has never occurred between the ‘same’ individual, however…” Same ‘Spock’, different universe. I search his gaze, uncertain.

      • My gaze follows the Terran antique/instrument of Taflaya, then back to my Sa-Kai, my Dewk’a Sasu whose ears suddenly color with…with what, I do not know.

        “Spock!” I speak our name abruptly to better command his focus “That. Right there.” I point to the viridian flush of his pointed ears, so like my own.

        “Again you fail to adequately convey to me the workings of your mind, Ashayam!” My displeasure echoes off the walls.

        “We are only identical in appearance, not in here.” I grasp his nape-pressing our foreheads together before I murmur “I need to know…Ashayam.”

  4. I give a just noticeable start at the abrupt, harsh use of our name, his evident displeasure…and indeed it gives him my complete focus, the color to the tips of my ears only deepening when he points them out, when he requests clarification of my thoughts, our foreheads being brought together.

    We are…not the same.

    “I merely..it is not..” I suppress the brief fluster as identical eyes meet.
    I exhale quietly.
    “This is,” we are, “uncommon…Ashal-veh. An encounter like ours. It has never occurred in Vulcan history.”

    I am merely striving to permit my mind to fully grasp that fact as I seek out any significance that might…come from it.

    • I pull away from him then, hearing something not easily discernible in the tone of his voice, something others would almost certainly miss. I am confounded by it. It causes my head to turn, and then give an ever so slight tilt, whilst holding his gaze steadily.

      “When I was small, S’chn T’gai Spock…” I arch one of my brows for emphasis “My Father disclosed something to me, that I was certain he was wrong about.”

      I pull my Dewk’a Sasu to a seated position, making us equal in stature. “He told me that Vulcans are incapable of untruths. However, due to the fact that I am only half so, that fact sometimes repulsed him, after the death of my mother…he said I would probably find that I am devoid of such a virtue.”

      My Fonn Ashayam’s gaze falls, and I reach to correct it with a firm hand beneath his chin, gently.

      “Because there are two types of lies, Petakov***. Commission and Omission.”

      I leave it at that, hoping he will reconsider his words and cease his withholding of valuable information.

      ***Darling

      • Commission and omission.

        I am aware, chin held in his firm but gentle hand, gaze not being permitted to leave his, that should I not cease the latter presently…his disappointment in me will far exceed yesterday and I cannot…

        I am ill prepared to face that, and so instead…

        “The flush to my ears,” still existent there, nerves traveling briefly in the vicinity of my stomach, “was brought about by the term ‘bondmate’ crossing my thoughts in relation to mental compatibility, monogamy, and the terms of endearment meant only for those privileged pairs.”

  5. It would appear that it is now my turn for a flush to go from my clavicle all the way to the tips of my pointed ears at his words.

    My mouth is suddenly devoid of it’s customary lubrication. Which, in turn, gives a roughened quality to the word we both know to be Eons more explicit and intimate…and…and Sensual than merely “Bondmate”.

    I utter this word with the sense of gravity that it demands. “T…T’hy’la.”

    The word hangs in the air between us like the heavy heat of Vulcan’s atmosphere, itself.

    • My breath stills at his voicing the one word we never share with those outside our race, its level of intimacy far too profound.

      I feel my deep blush spread as if two fresh avocado skins were pressed up just beneath the immaculately smoothness of my cheeks, almost hyper aware of his proximity to me in the wake of the term that reaches my very core.

      “T’hy’la,” a somewhat breathless echo.

      • A decidedly impulsive choice, more like those unlike my Fonn Ashayam and I, fueled by the realization that we blush more in the presence of one-another, than two Terran virgin teenagers.

        “Indeed…” I state, leaning forward to gently hold his cheeks with both hands, assessing their warmth before reaching for his hands.

        I caress their sensitive fingertips with my own, raptly.

  6. Vulcan kisses.

    Such a private, intimate gesture full of meaning and significance, the likes of which inspire an internal flutter.

    I feel my digits respond to his, sensitive fingertips pulsating faintly as they caress back, so…captivated.

    Leaning the lingering distance between us, I rest my forehead to his, eyes closing as I take a moment to simply experience, lashes resting atop my cheeks.

    • Uncertain as to which of our dual heritages with which my Fonn Ashayam tends to identify more, I tentatively bring his hand to my lips.

      Against his warm hand I speak, lips brushing with tenderness “Could you…will you…? That is, are you able to…”

      I look up -into Sochya Sa-Kai’s eyes “…be Mine?”

      I cannot bring myself to utter the word, for fear of an answer dissimilar to that within my chest.

      Shakily, I press my lips into his palm.

      • I inhale slowly in an attempt to control the wave of sensations that washes over me as his breath and lips caress my sensitive hand as he speaks, finding myself lacking the focus necessary to suppress when the words that leave his lips all but saturate my soul, our gazes meeting.

        He requests no small thing. A Vulcan bond last for the whole of their exceedingly long lives.

        He desires desires that? With me? Be His. Only His. Forever His.

        Warmth fills me, touched, honored, as I bring his second hand to my own lips, a reverence present in the tender grazing of them against his sensitive palm.

        “T’hy’la…” A soft, nearly inaudible purr follows this murmur deep within my throat as his lips press into my palm.

        “I have been yours..and shall forever continue to be.”

        I do not know when, I do not know how, it merely..is. Being with him is as natural as breathing.

        I cannot…there is no other. Just him.

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