Reflective Reverie – I

Welcome aboard the private yacht ol’boy.” The captain sniffs, “There are rules whilst aboard. Any shimmy-shimmy, and it’s the plank. I run a tight ship. Now…” He grins goodnaturedly.

I incline my head cordially, with an almost imperceptible rising of one upswept brow at the stranger.

Tryskellion nods curtly, “As you were and carry on ol’chap!” He again grins in that puzzlingly jovial manner he incorporates upon his open visage.

Fascinating.

I take a step in the direction of the cabins, looking down at the piece of metal on a ring with a key. Number Eight.

Where am I? How did I come to be here? These questions are without importance without the answer of the one that echoes throughout my cranium: “Where is my Fonn Ashayam???”

The last thing I am able to recall was what occurred after he and I retired to our quarters. I adjust the small burden of a rucksack upon my shoulders, and catch a glimpse of my reflection in a small rounded window. Adjusting the knitted skullcap of a soft grey material back down over the pointed tips of my ears, I turn back in the direction of Sir Tryskellion. He must have seen, but he made no comment…Fascinating…

Arriving at the end of a corridor, while still looking behind me, I stumble against the warmed skin of my T’hy’la. He is speaking with a woman who is somewhat enthralled with the shade of his skin. Her head tilted to one side, as she looks from his uncovered ears to my own.

I grasp his hand behind his back protectively and affectionately, but privately.

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~ by T'Naehm on April 27, 2011.

3 Responses to “Reflective Reverie – I”

  1. Bemusement surfaces as the female before me continues to speak.

    While I listen, I cannot help but also make note of my surroundings…surroundings I do not recognize. Before I am able to add to this, the absence of my T’hy’la, his presence is felt behind me, hand joining mine discretely, easing me via contact alone. He is with me.

    “Just want to state the fact that I enjoy listening to your songs,” she informs me.

    Our songs? Ear tips dust faintly despite continued puzzlement as I continue holding my Ashal-veh’s hand behind our backs, inclining my head. “Thank you.”

    With that, I am led away by my Trensu to a room numbered ‘8’.

    …Where have we been transported to?

    A yacht, or so it would appear, I am enlightened come the next evening as my Trensu and I explore the vessel. The female whom had stopped me the day prior does so once more.

    “Good evening,” she greets us, “that shower you both took last night! That was hot, wow!”

    That she was even aware of the bathing of my Ashal-veh and myself brings a flush to my ears, listening as my Ashal-veh responds with, “I was not aware that the steam in our bathing chamber could be felt beyond our quarters. My apologies.”

    She grins, shaking her head, “I do not complain … I know that water showers have special advantages in comparison with to sonic ones…”

    I merely incline my head in agreement with Miss Chelle, while stating. “I shall speak with someone concerning the escaping steam.”

    Her grin only broadens as she shakes her head once more, raising her eyebrows, insisting, “No, I don’t mind the steam!”

    • Somewhere in the ship, a tap turns on and the water runs cold. A yell resounds throughout the halls “Who’s used all the bloody hot water?”

      We are pointed at by Ms. Chelle, who then giggles behind her other hand. In his quarters, Tryskellion opens the towel cupboard, points to the empty shelves and makes an odd, indecipherable expression.

      Deep emerald hues color Sochya and I along both sets of zygomatic arches and pointed ears. I speak in a low voice, “I shall endeavor to utilize a different format of cleansing for my Ashalik and I. Perhaps a ‘sponge-bath’?”

      To which Ms. Siusamoris looks up from her artwork and nods, grinning enthusiastically “Good idea!”

      “Aye, if you want to torture y’self.” Tryskellion rolls his eyes. Rubbing his head with a towel as he approaches us all. “There’s a dry loofer, too.”

      My Fonn Ashayam’s jade color darkens just so, and the soft timbre of his voice reaches more than just my pointed pinnae “My sincere apologies, Tryskellion.” His warm gaze flickers to me, andmy breath catches within me “Time spent is no doubt the issue.”

      But Tryskellion is far from finished with our lecture. “Aye! An ‘in the future, when yer done with the towels I’ll ‘av ’em back ol’boy.”

      He sniffs, raking a hand over the lower portion of his visage “Well, alright, just remember next time. And while we’re on the subject, that late night twanging instrument thing, keep it down a bit. Partitions are a bit thin port side!.”

      He turns to Ms. Chelle, ushering her along “Dunno know what y’smiling at, y’piece of trouble y’self on occassion.”

      I nod with one raised brow at Tryskellion, while trying not to stare at Chelle’s artwork which closely resembles my Ashalik …

      “Indeed.” I place my hand on the lower lumbar of my Taluhk Kafeh, extracting ourselves hastily

      “Dif-tor heh smusma.”

      • The yacht’s captain watches as we take our leave, waving as we disappear into our cabin. I make note to request that my Ashal-veh play the Lyre quieter. “Aye,” Tryskellion mutters, “whatever that meant.

        “Dif-tor heh smusma” Miss Chelle replied to our retreating backs, hoping she had pronounced it correctly, smiling, “Have mercy and listen to your Fonn Ashayam . For Terrans like poor Tryskellion, the sound of a lyre needs getting used to.”

        ——

        The following evening is a pleasantly warm one, my Trensu and I opting to engage in a game of chess above deck. “What a lovely thing to wake up to!” A familiar voice draws our gazes to the female whom appears to have grown fond of us.

        I catch my T’hy’la’s gaze, the heart in my side fluttering at the mirrored gaze, both ear tips and the rises of my cheeks shading a pale jade. “You are most kind, miss.”

        She presents her art of Vulcan males to us, and I cannot deny my intrigue…however it is clear my Sa-Kai views it as far more than intriguing. But rather, titillating.

        “Intrigued and titillated …!” she smiles, blushing, “Thank you very much.” As Tryskellion approaches, miss Chelle excuses herself for the evening.

        “Cherrio ol’girl, see you soon,” the captain voices, looking politely sideways at both myself and my intended, winking. “As you were and carry on you two.” And with that he, too, takes his leave, switching on the light within his cabin, putting in ear plugs, and switching it off once.

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