Reflective Reverie – II

When morning arrives, the yacht’s captain appears content as he converses with Miss Chelle. “Got a good night’s sleep last night anyway, guests were quiet.” She promptly grins, finding the idea of ‘quiet alien love play’ to be agreeable.

“Probably they were doing their hand thing all night. Very polite, the boys.” To which Tryskellion merely shakes his head. “Right, better get a bath in before you know who …..”

My Ashal-veh and I find ourselves seated at a table not far off, my T’hy’la murmuring, “Hand thing? To what does she refe—oh,” his pointed ears shade pale jade. I, naturally, make no comment on the matter, instead finding a rather fascinating table pattern to take note of.


~ by Sochya on April 27, 2011.

12 Responses to “Reflective Reverie – II”

  1. Time passes similar to this, another day giving rise to conversation between the owner of this vessel and the guest whom has occupied it the longest. Miss Chelle is seated above deck, working as always on her artwork. “What you workin’ on, or shouldn’t I ask?,” Tryskellion inquires with a sniff.

    Chelle inhales the fresh breeze and smiles, “You know my alien studies.”

    The captain nods, “I did put fresh sound proofing in the other day. Hope I didn’t offend.” This earns a laugh from the female, her eyes shining with amusement. “Yes, the lyre needs getting used to for humans. Sound proofing is a good idea!”

    He sniffs, “Is that what it is, a lyre. Thought they were strangling one of the kitties at one point.” If she had laughed before, it does not compare to the peals of laughter that follow this claim. “Poor kitties. No, that’s their alien way to play love songs.”

    She observes as Tryskellion’s nose wrinkles, “Y’know… They don’t,” he pulls a face, “D’they?” A grin blooms across her face, “They seem to have a big hand issue. Very interesting, these aliens. What else do they do in their quarters …?” He shakes his head, “I’m shocked y’ask it of me. I didn’t even know they’d filled the fridge, ol’girl, until I opened it.”

    “You are a perfect discreet host. But I would be tempted to spy, I must admit …”

    The captain stares at her open mouthed before wagging a finger. “If I catch you spying on those Vulcans whilst they’re my guests…” The artist blushes and looks deeply ashamed at the floor. “No, I won’t do this. I promise. Just fantasies…”

    • The following day Miss Chelle can be seen dancing about the ship, stopping only when she is spotted by the captain. He raises his brows. “Look I’m getting used to all sorts what with them two. Wriggle yer abstract any time!!” She grins embarrassedly, “Compared to your alien guests’ rituals, my wiggling is quite boring.”

      Tryskellion picks shortbread out of his teeth, staring. “Aye, bathing mostly… I did notice.” Taking a seat, he picks up the paper, “See the boys got a mention in the local paper.” She, too, sits, grabbing a drink. “The boys were in the local newspaper?”

      He nods, “Yes, the boys made it into the local rag,” handing her the newspaper and pointing at the column: “

      The female raises an eyebrow, reading the article, smiling. “These pointed eared guys, in the newspaper.” Standing and discreetly putting away some of the personal weapons he had been cleaning earlier in the day.

      “Yes, clever ol’sods the pair of ’em…. Quite the gads about town by the look of things. I’ve got tomorrows celebs aboard me yacht ol’girl.

      She responds from her seat, taking a sip of her drink. “Celebs? Who is coming?”

      “The boys I’m talkin’ about ol’girl. Them’s the celebs.” He makes himself a G&T. “I know it’s only a local paper but they’ve obviously been mooching about, got snapped by the papps. You watch, there’ll be TV crews next bobbin’ about on boats tryin’ to get on board here.” He slumps down in a chair, the pair continuing their conversation.

  2. We struggle to maintain our already rapid heartbeats as we venture through the streets of this foreign place, my T’hy’la and I.

    Our Federation issue boots splash noisily in puddles left from the English rain. I hold my Fonn Ashayam’s hand tightly as we traverse the alleys.

    • I glance behind us to determine whether or not we are yet being pursued, as I am led by my T’hy’la through alleys unfamiliar to us.

      “One wonders why we have amassed such sudden interest.” A near imperceptible frown line between elegant brows, squeezing my Sa-Kai’s hand.

      • I hold my Fonn Ashayam’s hand tightly as we I pull FonnAshayam ahead of me, phaser set to stun pursuers.

        “They were known as “Paparazzi, in the plural. Paparazzo in the singular. In the 21st century they became increasingly insistent. Indeed, even Hostile. They were blamed for deaths of people of more interest than you & I, Ashalik.”

        I gently support the small of Sochya’s back as we outrun the Terrans which are weighted down with clumsy camera equipment.

  3. My Ashal-veh and I come to a stop within a shadowed alley 5.3 minutes later, our sides pressed close to one another as we watch our pursuers run past the head of the alley, unaware of our location.

    Brown hues flicker to my Trensu. “Perhaps it would be wise to return, T’hy’la.”

    • I nod agreement at my rom sa-kan, not trusting my voice since it will disclose location. We run to the dock where Mr. Tryskellion & Ms. Chelle are, on the deck of the yacht?

      Sochya Sa-kai & I step up the gangway & are immediately blinded by flashing bulbs as strange men shout at my Petakov & I in loud bellows

      “Z’aaa K’areee! To your left! Mister Quin-toh! Your Right!”

      I am completely confused.


      Tryskellion wanders about sipping hot lemon. Picking up the morning paper, he notices a byline about us, we were seen shopping. He shakes head.

      Suddenly he hears a curfuffle on the quayside, he pauses reading the paper & watches the kitties dash off suddenly.

      Looking out, he spots Ashal Veh and Fonn Ashayam coming aboard, chased by a bunch of miscreants.

      “What! Oh, no.”

      • I do not permit us to linger, lest my Trensu grow protective to the point of attack, pressing past the swarm whom continue to shout and take photographs.

        Never once releasing T’Naehm’s hand, I lead the way down into the deeper portion of the yacht, closing the door behind us lest we be pursued further.

        Gathering myself, I look to my Ashal-veh, “They will be unable to this not a private yacht?”


        Having brushed past, Tryskellion stomps up on deck carrying a cudgle, pointing a finger at a trespasser. “Off! Or over the side.” He finds a bod behind a windlass, grabbing him, and pushing him over the side.

        “I’ll have no shimmy shimmy aboard my yacht!” The shout can be heared as he waves his cudgle.

  4. Panting against the door, I look at Fonn Ashayam with a private smile on my lips. We’re so different with one another than with others.

    Just as Tryskellion makes his threats on the other side of the door, I exchange a look with Sochya ,covering my mouth to prevent even the possibility of laughter.

    “Between the…attentions of Miss Chelle and Sir Tryskellion? I think we are safe, my Fonn Ashayam, do you concur?”

    Tryskellion smacks a ratty looking bod with a camera over the back of the head, turfs him into the quayside, watches the rest scurrying down the plank.

    Raising the plank, Tryskellion casts off the mooring lines, quickly pulling on a quarter sail, easing away, watching as a straggler falls into the quay.

    • Amusement enters my gaze, lips curving ever faintly upwards, muscles easing as I listen for a moment with my intended to Sir Tryskellion ensuring that the privacy of his guests is not breached any further than it has been.

      I incline my head. “Indeed. Both highly honorable individuals, T’hy’la. All shall be well.”

      We should,if nothing else, offer a note of gratitude. I relay this to my Trensu.

      Meanwhile, Tryskellion eyes the mob on the quayside, giving them ‘the bird’ as he grins, his photograph being taken. “Naff off!”

      • Listening carefully to Tryskellion’s efforts, while drawing my Sochya close to me, against the door. My head tilts to one side as Ashalik writes our note to Tryskellion on the antique paper that bears our Captain’s triskal.

        “Be sure to indicate our gratitude to both Tryskellion and Chelle? And apologize profusely for having caused any inconvenience, Fonn Ashayam .”

        I pause “And do inquire as to the meaning of the terminology “Naff”?”


        Tryskellion moves the yacht out of the harbour to a safe mooring distance, drops anchor and wanders back below decks.

        “That’s all I need this mornin’.”

        He slumps down in a chair, setting his cudgle aside, picks up his cup of hot lemon water and settles back.

  5. With permission, T’Naehm’s strong chest is used as a writing desk. An antique writing implement is utilized to carry out our intention of writing a note of gratitude to Tryskellion and Chelle, including all that my Ashal-veh voices to me, the rumble of his chest soothing.

    “…I shall also include a post script, so as assure him we have taken into account his words concerning our bathing periods and your playing of the lyre.”

    With this, I finish, meet my Trensu’s dark gaze..and step out to slip the note neatly beneath Tryskellion’s door, returning soon to the quarters shared aboard this yacht with my attentive intended, hands joining, sensitive fingers lacing.

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