Judgement – A Time To Mourn
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
::ON::
When Yolanthe came too, the Box was silent. Sitting up, she put a hand to her, the deep violet already going a light-sucking black as reality came back. The alcohol had taken the edge of it, but not by much. Now, all she had left was a mouth full of fur, and a sizeable stain on her white carpet, just next to a waste bucket. She knew what that meant. Lovely, she thought. On the coffee table was a note propped against a jug of water. It said. 'Please call the captain ASAP.' The captain? They'd met briefly that morning, and the tiny woman had offered to come back later. Had she? Yolanthe couldn't recall. Either way, it could wait. It was four in the morning.
She tried to sit up. That was painful, her head felt two sizes too big, and every time she moved it was if her brain was ricocheting off her skull. Getting off her couch unsteadily, she moved to the chiller, and rescued a hypospray of hangover cure. A moment later the pain subsided, and she felt safe enough to chug down the water without adding to the stain on the carpet.
Taking a bottle of water from the fridge for good measure, she went out into the silent bar. Even Pelin had gone home. Without people inside it, it was daunting in size, cavernous and brooding. More so now, now that the person who'd helped her build it was gone.
Yolanthe yawned, but she wasn't ready to go to sleep, to lie down and be alone with her thoughts. She looked down. The floor was filthy, covered in sticky drinks, bits of garnish, and other spills. the normal detritus of a busy night. She went and fetched cleaning supplies from the replicator room and set to work.
She crawled round on her knees, alternately scrubbing and mopping until her joints ached with the pressure of the hard floor. The pain became a welcome alternative. Endorphins began to leak into her system, like pushing through the barrier when running, lifting her mood and her skin tone to a dirty grey instead of ebon black.
For an hour she worked, turning everything over in her mind. Klia's life, and death. The brief time they shared. A little less than a year, that seemed more like a lifetime. Klia had become like a sister, and she couldn't let the young orion go on to whatever came next unavenged.
The question was how? Security she had no faith in. The trill who had come to the bar seemed cut in Mr Gabriel's mould, obsessed with the Romulans and Cardassians, though she admitted he was better mannered. The Romulan women would have been her next option. Instinctively she turned to her own gender before men, despite it not really meaning as much outside of her own culture.
But they hadn't been quick enough, and Klia was dead.
So she was going to do what she should have done in the first place, and turn to a man. The only man with the means to do it. The only man she trusted.
She stowed the cleaning bits, and tidied herself up. She used the large replicator and what she could find in the staff room rather than venture up to the spa. That was Klia's domain and she wasn't ready to face it yet. Satisfied she was presentable, she went to the embassy, a short walk through a still and silent promenade.
The Cardassians in the lobby saw her coming, and let her in automatically. Lemat was not on duty this early; the night shift attendant, a bluff and friendly young man who struck her as barely old enough to shave gave her a broad smile of welcome. "Morning, Ketan. Is he free?" she asked him. She didn't have to say who, they all knew. And she didn't have to ask if he was awake at such an early hour. He didn't sleep.
"Let me check. Is it anything in particular?"
She nodded. "Tell him I want him to find who killed Klia. Tell him, I want him to serve me their heart on a plate."
::OFF::
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner, The Box Of Delights
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
| Title | A Time To Mourn | |
| Mission | Judgement | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin | |
| Posted | Fri Jan 14, 2011 @ 10:13pm | |
| Location | The Box Of Delights | |
| Timeline | SD 36 0400 |
When Yolanthe came too, the Box was silent. Sitting up, she put a hand to her, the deep violet already going a light-sucking black as reality came back. The alcohol had taken the edge of it, but not by much. Now, all she had left was a mouth full of fur, and a sizeable stain on her white carpet, just next to a waste bucket. She knew what that meant. Lovely, she thought. On the coffee table was a note propped against a jug of water. It said. 'Please call the captain ASAP.' The captain? They'd met briefly that morning, and the tiny woman had offered to come back later. Had she? Yolanthe couldn't recall. Either way, it could wait. It was four in the morning.
She tried to sit up. That was painful, her head felt two sizes too big, and every time she moved it was if her brain was ricocheting off her skull. Getting off her couch unsteadily, she moved to the chiller, and rescued a hypospray of hangover cure. A moment later the pain subsided, and she felt safe enough to chug down the water without adding to the stain on the carpet.
Taking a bottle of water from the fridge for good measure, she went out into the silent bar. Even Pelin had gone home. Without people inside it, it was daunting in size, cavernous and brooding. More so now, now that the person who'd helped her build it was gone.
Yolanthe yawned, but she wasn't ready to go to sleep, to lie down and be alone with her thoughts. She looked down. The floor was filthy, covered in sticky drinks, bits of garnish, and other spills. the normal detritus of a busy night. She went and fetched cleaning supplies from the replicator room and set to work.
She crawled round on her knees, alternately scrubbing and mopping until her joints ached with the pressure of the hard floor. The pain became a welcome alternative. Endorphins began to leak into her system, like pushing through the barrier when running, lifting her mood and her skin tone to a dirty grey instead of ebon black.
For an hour she worked, turning everything over in her mind. Klia's life, and death. The brief time they shared. A little less than a year, that seemed more like a lifetime. Klia had become like a sister, and she couldn't let the young orion go on to whatever came next unavenged.
The question was how? Security she had no faith in. The trill who had come to the bar seemed cut in Mr Gabriel's mould, obsessed with the Romulans and Cardassians, though she admitted he was better mannered. The Romulan women would have been her next option. Instinctively she turned to her own gender before men, despite it not really meaning as much outside of her own culture.
But they hadn't been quick enough, and Klia was dead.
So she was going to do what she should have done in the first place, and turn to a man. The only man with the means to do it. The only man she trusted.
She stowed the cleaning bits, and tidied herself up. She used the large replicator and what she could find in the staff room rather than venture up to the spa. That was Klia's domain and she wasn't ready to face it yet. Satisfied she was presentable, she went to the embassy, a short walk through a still and silent promenade.
The Cardassians in the lobby saw her coming, and let her in automatically. Lemat was not on duty this early; the night shift attendant, a bluff and friendly young man who struck her as barely old enough to shave gave her a broad smile of welcome. "Morning, Ketan. Is he free?" she asked him. She didn't have to say who, they all knew. And she didn't have to ask if he was awake at such an early hour. He didn't sleep.
"Let me check. Is it anything in particular?"
She nodded. "Tell him I want him to find who killed Klia. Tell him, I want him to serve me their heart on a plate."
::OFF::
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner, The Box Of Delights