Temar. (Night. NVC - Day 2)

[mirror_brightly]

Night on this planet wrapped like cool fingers, dropped everything to a chill and calmed the stars, drew them throught the harsh sky. Nero hadn't seen night, not so familiar, in longer than he could remember. The stars were wrong, distant and close in uneven measure

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[harbors_madness]

The Narada had not moved from her location, seated where she could see her crew like a statue with all the subdued menace of a sleeping guard dog. She watched in silence, but after a day of it, while only guards walked and watched, she found the need to voice herself. "Alha."

Her voice was quiet as she stood, walked the few steps, and sat cross legged before the field separating herself and her master. It hummed against her skin but did not harm.

[mirror_brightly]

His eyes never left the sky, never shifted from the cold stars that hung listlessly in the air.

"Llyyea?" There was no tenderness there, his belief in her truth had been shattered, twisted and crushed against the hard edge of reality. She still tasted like his wife, felt like her, and he knew the lilt of her brows, the rise of her chin could only bring him pain and beautiful nostalgia.

[harbors_madness]

"Rhhae aerhii hwai ohrie. Fraeta rhhae nnaen riud seiyya rhhae. Rhhae-hiyll flaeon iurrhi, idh iurrhi. Rhhae hhaemn dhat'viduus hwi, vikra h'ta vikran viduus. Alha daehpn rhhae vah ihir. Rhhae dhat'khei docgae vah rrhaar ihir, mrht daehp alha ohrie." Her black eyes did not leave his face. She had received orders during her entire known existence. She was programmed to obey them.

[mirror_brightly]

His eyes slipped slowly across the air, followed it and landed on the Etrevon shape that mimed his wife, mined a sweet dream that he could never attain. It wanted to die, by his word. The picture of a child, a monster, the face of his wife, wanted him to kill it.

"Ssaer?" His voice was low, quiet, if only to preserve Ayel's slumber. "Ssaer faema kraehn'lata?"

Her face was so familiar, so sweet and terrible. A bolt of cold ran up and down his spine, wrapped hard fingers around his shoulders and dead gaze about his skull. "Ainhha'hir au? Ihi' thlho au dhuil?"

[jellyfishpilot]

This was not a meeting that Spock was looking forward to. But he knew it was a necessary obligation.

His steps were slow and deliberate as he came to stand in front of Nero's cell. He said nothing at first, waiting instead for his presence to be acknowledged.

[mirror_brightly]

At first, there was the strangest sense of imperfection in the air. Between the red echoes across his skull, the silent non-speech and the tandem, split familiarity of this place, he couldn't be certain what he was seeing was true. When his eyes focused and the light came around it, against the Thaessu before him, the world was solid and his ire rose in his stomach.

"Spock," he hissed. The word held the weight of two worlds now.

[jellyfishpilot]

Spock folded his hands behind his back. Only the most observant would have noticed the clenching of his fists.

"Nero," he acknowledged. "I trust your accomodations are adequate, all circumstances considered?"

[mirror_brightly]

"I am neither dead nor dying," Nero answered tightly, almost in accusation. "You survived the cold, how did you find watching?"

There was a pregnant pause as Nero stared at Spock, this familiar Spock, his fists clenched tight and his shoulder tensed.