Paralysis I
Mary examined her fingers, studying how little contrast there would be when she placed her hand on the drow's shoulder. She was so pale, white as fleece, on most of her skin. But, her hands were dark as the emptiness between stars.
She did not like the idea of confronting her superior like this, but if there was one thing she knew, it was how to read people. Kiira came from a culture of warriors, subtlety and rage would be equally ineffective. Sorrow, however, would be powerful enough.
With a resolute sigh, she let her hand fall onto waiting flesh.
"Why stand behind me for so long if you wanted to talk, Bollk?" Mary pulled Kiira's shoulder, but the other woman did not turn.
"I worry for Tasartir."
"We all worry for Momo."
"You don't. Not like the rest of us. You think, just as she does, that it is a fit punishment. That this is somehow her fault." The theria waited for a long moment, letting the words hang in the air. She felt her own guilt rise, and she wanted to apologize for her rash behavior in the face of mourning, but she held the words back.
"No one deserves it, fitting or otherwise." Kiira finally replied, "But I can do nothing to change it." Mary nodded, and prepared her next attack.
"I am not surprised. Dairine says she's seen this, among her people. Soul mated, she calls them, people who are meant for eachother in a way so undeniable that to a foreigner, it sounds impossible. They wake to the same day, and think the same thoughts, even if their voices and actions differ greatly. She has claimed that I and Pan are such mates. She has made the same claim for Momo and our lost captain. Among her world, when one such partner dies, the other simply ceases to live until death comes back for them. It resembles a waking coma. They breath, but they do not move, do not drink or eat. Among her people, it is a death sentence. Even I do not feel able to pull Momo from her conscious suicide. I haven't got the skill or the experience for it."
Mary watched Kiira's shoulders fall, the tension that had been building there broke suddenly. The drow turned to face her subordinate, finally. Mary knew her face was schooled to show a hope incongruous to her words. "Why do you seem so pleased, Bollk? Do you find some enjoyment of the death of Horatio's one last livelihood?"
"I do not. I could never be glad to see such brightness extinguished, and yet, I can do nothing to prevent it. However, I know of someone who can. He owes a favor to my people, he would come, if I sent for him." Mary smiled reassuringly, and waited for a response. She knew it would be an aqcuiesence. She simply needed to wait for it.
"Do what you must to fetch this friend. If we can save her, we will. I may not respect Horatio's actions, but I will respect her obvious wishes."
"Thank you, captain."
She did not like the idea of confronting her superior like this, but if there was one thing she knew, it was how to read people. Kiira came from a culture of warriors, subtlety and rage would be equally ineffective. Sorrow, however, would be powerful enough.
With a resolute sigh, she let her hand fall onto waiting flesh.
"Why stand behind me for so long if you wanted to talk, Bollk?" Mary pulled Kiira's shoulder, but the other woman did not turn.
"I worry for Tasartir."
"We all worry for Momo."
"You don't. Not like the rest of us. You think, just as she does, that it is a fit punishment. That this is somehow her fault." The theria waited for a long moment, letting the words hang in the air. She felt her own guilt rise, and she wanted to apologize for her rash behavior in the face of mourning, but she held the words back.
"No one deserves it, fitting or otherwise." Kiira finally replied, "But I can do nothing to change it." Mary nodded, and prepared her next attack.
"I am not surprised. Dairine says she's seen this, among her people. Soul mated, she calls them, people who are meant for eachother in a way so undeniable that to a foreigner, it sounds impossible. They wake to the same day, and think the same thoughts, even if their voices and actions differ greatly. She has claimed that I and Pan are such mates. She has made the same claim for Momo and our lost captain. Among her world, when one such partner dies, the other simply ceases to live until death comes back for them. It resembles a waking coma. They breath, but they do not move, do not drink or eat. Among her people, it is a death sentence. Even I do not feel able to pull Momo from her conscious suicide. I haven't got the skill or the experience for it."
Mary watched Kiira's shoulders fall, the tension that had been building there broke suddenly. The drow turned to face her subordinate, finally. Mary knew her face was schooled to show a hope incongruous to her words. "Why do you seem so pleased, Bollk? Do you find some enjoyment of the death of Horatio's one last livelihood?"
"I do not. I could never be glad to see such brightness extinguished, and yet, I can do nothing to prevent it. However, I know of someone who can. He owes a favor to my people, he would come, if I sent for him." Mary smiled reassuringly, and waited for a response. She knew it would be an aqcuiesence. She simply needed to wait for it.
"Do what you must to fetch this friend. If we can save her, we will. I may not respect Horatio's actions, but I will respect her obvious wishes."
"Thank you, captain."