Things Past – At First Sight
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
[ON]
Getal couldn't turn away. She was stunning. More than stunning. Beautiful. More than beautiful. He couldn't find words for this woman. Tharek had only joined in the second half of the lecture, but he caught on quickly. It was a lecture on the architecture of the Nor class stations. He was there as a guest speaker. But this woman. She made him quiver. A man who was already heralded in the Obsidian Order, and the Central Command. A military machine. He quivered at this woman.
"… and so you see balance is achieved through symmetry, geometry in a style that comes together using the mathematical three to create a design form that is unrivalled.
“It is only inferior species who separate the form from the function. Our architects, whether designing villages, cities, individual buildings, space ships, or space stations balance the practical with the aesthetic, just as we balance past and present as we manoeuvre through the galaxy.”
Imanil blinked as she observed the faces in her audience. Most of them were familiar, but there were always a few strangers, observers from the Institute and from Government bodies changed regularly. “Before I conclude, are there any questions?”
Getal saw his moment. He siezed it within a breath. "Yes, I do." He said, standing. "Gul Getal. Ninth Order." He announced, a small lie, but nobody admitted they were Obsidian Order unless they wanted to be socially secluded. "I do not question the beauty and aesthetic brilliance of our space stations but please, tell me how our designs surpass that of all other races in the Beta and Alpha quadrants."
This was not one of her students, Imanil could see that with a fraction of a glance. she rested her hands on the outer edge of her lecturn.
The tiny scales that covered her lower spine lifted and prickled as she met his gaze across the lecture room, "Gul Getal," Imanil said controlling her breath as she publicly engaged the stranger, "you appear to have missed the earlier part of my lecture. I will not repeat to my students what they have already heard, but if you wish to discuss the matter I will inform you when we break."
Tharek laughed under his breath, looking her back in her eyes. "I apologise to the students of this lecture. And I would gladly recall you lecture with you."
------
It happened that the day was almost over. Imanil dealt with the few questions there were and left the podium.
Getal managed to intercept her, before she left. "You are Imanil, aren't you?" He asked.
"Professor Imanil Lemarrev, yes," she said. She was not surprised to see him, but the speed at which he had reached this place astounded her, she clutched the folder she carried a little closer to body as she made a closer appraisal; he was very tall, well built, and though his approach had been public, it was made with a degree of deference. Her scales prickled again, "My office is this way."
Imanil indicated the direction with the tilt of her head, one that showed her throat to its best advantage. "You will forgive me, Gul Getal, but I would not disadvantage my other students by repeating my words, even for your benefit. They must learn only what they are told and on a single iteration, or at the very least understand that I do not make exceptions, and that the only way to pass my course is to be on time and pay attention," she said as they walked, still unsure in what capacity he had attended her lecture.
Getal quivered again. "I admire your policies. Cardassia smiles on you and what you do Professor." He himself smiled to emphasise his point. "There is no forgiveness needed on your part Professor, it's me who must apologise."
"You're much too kind," Imanil said, her own smile lighting up her pale grey eyes.
It struck her that he had not for one second questioned her identity, something that happened with monotonous regularity on a first meeting. Even when they had seen her speak very few readily accepted that someone of her age could possibly be a professor.
"I wan't always so rigid," Imanil confessed as they walked. "My first lecture was a disaster!. Some of my students were three or four years older than I, and I simply could not make them listen to me. I almost resigned from the Institute there and then, but I had the presence of mind not to act so rashly." As they reached the door of her office Imanil paused, not quite sure why she was comfortable to confide such a private detail to someone she had just met. "I discussed what happened with my father. He told me that if I were not qualified for the role I would not have received it, which is true because the State is infallible. He also told me that I had a choice; I could be liked by my students, or I could be respected by them - it was my approach that would determine my failure or my success. Though I think even he would balk at me telling off Gul Getal of the Ninth Order just to hammer home a point," she said as she pressed her thumb to the keypad and the door opened.
"I do talk a lot," Imanil said as she entered her office. "You will say if I am boring you, won't you, Gul Getal? Do take a seat."
"Honest is the best policy." He said in response as he seated himself. This woman was literally perfect. Obedience to the State, through and through Cardassian father. Perfect. "It is better to be respected, than to be liked." He responded yet again. "Has anyone ever told you, you have beautiful eyes?" Tharek said, although they had just met, the comment was not awkward. It seemed to flow seamlessly.
Nobody ever had, nobody that Imanil had cared to listen to, anyway. "I'm you say that to every twenty year old professor that you meet," she said hoping that he would recognise both the humour and the irony; she was a prodigy, and one unparalled even in a society where high achievement was a common factor. Just in case her point was weak she kept her gaze on him.
"Most twenty year olds aren't as beautiful, charming, or as academically gifted as you are Imanil. Twenty years old and making Guls and students tremble with respect. You are definitely an asset to Cardassia."
"I strive to be so," Imanil replied as she finally placed her folder down on the desk. "I feel foolish asking the question, but what interest does the Ninth Order have in my lecture?" she imagined that he had followed her for an official reason; a man of his age, rank and appearance could hardly be without a wife, could he?
"I'm here as a guest speaker. Your lecture was to do with the Nor class stations. I'm to be stationed at Bajor soon, and Terok Nor will be my point of calling. I just needed to brush up on brilliance, so to speak." Getal shook his head gently, smirking slightly. "I do apologise, I'm muttering. In short, I'm here for your lecture and you. Not a Ninth Order command."
Imanil was in two minds, one, the most primal wished to tell him that he was the one who turned up late, when a date and time for her lecture had been clearly given, the second had no wish to point out that failing to him, after she had already publicly done so.
She sat then in her own chair behind the desk, and was reminded of the subtle architecture she had employed three years ago when she had assumed this post. It served her well in elevating her presence with students, but in this context it felt wrong to her.
Imanil stood again, "I haven't offered you any refreshment, Gul Getal," she said moving towards the replicator.
"Nothing replicated for me, thank you." He said, the warm smile seeping out.
His words answered one of her questions; he made demands that his normal circle were unlikely to be able to meet. Imanil bit the inside of her cheek in the second she thought on this, but when she stopped and turned back her bright smile was firmly in place.
Imanil was not sure what had just happened, or if anything had happened at all.
"If you wish for tea, I can have hot water brought in. If you prefer kanar, then I have some readily available," she said pleasantly.
Tharek mulled the thought over in his head. "Kanar sounds good. Join me in a glass?"
It was earlier than she would normally have taken a drink, but she was hostess here, and it was her guest's wishes she should attend to, Imanil knew that.
"Of course, Gul Getal," she said as she crossed the room and opened the mirrored cupboard that stood against the wall. Once she had poured two glasses she returned to her desk, but she sat in the second guest chair rather than her own subtly elevated one. Imanil placed her own glass on the desk as she offered the other to her guest.
Getal took the glass gently into his hand, caressing the skin of Imanil as he took it. It was unintentional, but the electric touch of skin on skin made the air fizzle.
"Should I call you Gul Getal forever?" Imanil asked, it was quite forward of her to indicate that he had not given his name, or leave for her to use it, but she did not need to be a Betazoid to know that he too had felt that spark.
"Tharek Getal." He said, the tingle of electricity stinging its way up his arm, and into his smile.
"Tharek, then," Imanil said softly, her intonation giving the gutteral consonants of his name an unusually soft edge. She thought that she should probably move her hand away but she didn't want to any more than she wanted to tear her gaze away.
He continued to smile, she had felt the spark, he knew it. Both hadn't torn their hand away either. Tharek moved his thumb, to encompass Imanil's.
"When do you leave for Terok Nor?" she asked - it must a be a day or so. He may have missed her lecture, but there was another way that she could help him familiarise herself with the station type. It wouldn't take long.
"Not yet. I have a few days to spare." He answered.
"Then perhaps I can use some of that time to take you through what you missed," she suggested. "If you came to me to learn more about the Nor class station, it would be remiss of me to allow you to leave without that knowledge."
Getal smiled. A smile that was no longer polite, or warm. It was exotic. A smile that indicated of what might happen soon, what could be. It was a smile that melted the air around them both.
Imanil shivered, her unguarded reaction both visible and reflexive. If he had not had his hand firmly over hers she might have drawn away. Imanil had never seen anyone look like that, either at her or at anyone else. The effect was almost hypnotic. What she really wanted to do was to reach out to him. She blinked slowly as she wondered how his skin would taste, how his hands would feel on her flesh.
Imanil flushed,finding no words to express what she was thinking.
"You seem to be blushing my dear." He said, placing his kanar down, and encompassing Imanil's already covered hand, with another.
It was a simple physiological response and one that she ought to have under control, but the intensity was unexpected; his words only made the colour deepen and spread down her throat and decolletage. Imaril lowered her gaze and stared at their intertwined hands.
Imaril was in territory of which she had only theoretical knowledge. The boys she met were either her students or sons of her parents friends and it was rare for any of them to converse with her for more than a minute before she marked them down as her intellectual inferior. The few that surmounted that hurdle were beneath her in a social context and so fell beneath her interest.
Tharek was quite obviously not a boy, he seemed able to follow her thought pattern, and his career and bearing placed him the in the right social strata.
"Tharek, I..." what could she possibly say?
"There's no need for words." He said as gently as possible. Emphasising his points, he brushed his hand across her cheek, which came to lay across Imanil's lips.
His touch was warm against her already flushed skin, she seemed to lean into his palm, and as her lips brushed the exposed skin of his lips she looked at him again, her pale grey eyes lit by the desire that had ignited within her.
Imanil reached out her own hand, and tentatively traced her fingers along his jaw, the tips tingled as they neared his chin.
Getal's eyes shifted from the passionate warmth, into a burning flame of desire. Using the hand already on Imanil, he brought her in closer, until the breath from either person could be felt. He leant in, and waited for the acceptance he sought.
As she left her chair she supported her weight against the low arm of the chair he occupied. Her free hand she ran back along his face, messing his meticulously neat hair. Imanlin pressed her lips to his, parting them as she did.
It was everything he asked. Tharek implemented his last test, to see if this woman was truly perfect. Granted, she was his intellectual superior. But emotionally, mentally, physically; that had to be Tharek's. This kiss would show him if she was everything he looked for. He took control, adding more and more passion into the kiss, waiting for her to attempt to match, or surrender herself into the embrace of Getal.
Imanil thought that she might be melting, with each second she felt a little less her own. She responded to his ardour, his passion leading her desire to a level she had never dreamed of. As she moved her other hand into his hair Imanil lost her support. The only thing that stopped her from sinking to her knees on the floor between his legs was his arm around her waist that stayed her descent, holding her in place as she lost herself in his kiss.
Getal held tightly onto Imanil, not wanting to release the moment to the ages. He wanted this moment to last, and last. He slowly brought the kiss to a halt though, to withdraw from her lips and look into her eyes. Waiting for the right words to appear. Any words to appear.
She stared into his eyes as she caught her breath. Imanil had never kissed anyone before now except her parents and her brothers, and certainly not like that. She linked her hands together behind his neck so at least he couldn't drop her if he was disgusted with her for being so forward.
But he did not, his arms remained where they were, "Please don't ever let me go," she breathed.
He smiled, solidifying the look. "I won't." Getal whispered, his words smoother than the finest silk.
Imanil simply hung there, her hands clasped around his neck as she absorbed his words. "I ..." she wanted to say something but the slightly salty taste of his mouth was more alluring to her.
"I find you quite magnificent," she breathed hoping that he would resume the kiss that she had begun.
He complied once again, leaning in and embracing her. All of her. Tasting and savouring every miniscule morsel of Imanil. She was beautiful. Delicious. Magnificent.
Gul Tharek Getal
Allegedly of the Ninth Order
&
Professor Imanil Lemarrev
Lecturer on Aesthetics and the Built Environment
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
| Title | At First Sight | |
| Mission | Things Past | |
| Author(s) | Commander Isha t'Vaurek & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal | |
| Posted | Sun May 22, 2011 @ 10:50pm | |
| Location | University of Culat. Cardassia Prime. | |
| Timeline | Vague |
Getal couldn't turn away. She was stunning. More than stunning. Beautiful. More than beautiful. He couldn't find words for this woman. Tharek had only joined in the second half of the lecture, but he caught on quickly. It was a lecture on the architecture of the Nor class stations. He was there as a guest speaker. But this woman. She made him quiver. A man who was already heralded in the Obsidian Order, and the Central Command. A military machine. He quivered at this woman.
"… and so you see balance is achieved through symmetry, geometry in a style that comes together using the mathematical three to create a design form that is unrivalled.
“It is only inferior species who separate the form from the function. Our architects, whether designing villages, cities, individual buildings, space ships, or space stations balance the practical with the aesthetic, just as we balance past and present as we manoeuvre through the galaxy.”
Imanil blinked as she observed the faces in her audience. Most of them were familiar, but there were always a few strangers, observers from the Institute and from Government bodies changed regularly. “Before I conclude, are there any questions?”
Getal saw his moment. He siezed it within a breath. "Yes, I do." He said, standing. "Gul Getal. Ninth Order." He announced, a small lie, but nobody admitted they were Obsidian Order unless they wanted to be socially secluded. "I do not question the beauty and aesthetic brilliance of our space stations but please, tell me how our designs surpass that of all other races in the Beta and Alpha quadrants."
This was not one of her students, Imanil could see that with a fraction of a glance. she rested her hands on the outer edge of her lecturn.
The tiny scales that covered her lower spine lifted and prickled as she met his gaze across the lecture room, "Gul Getal," Imanil said controlling her breath as she publicly engaged the stranger, "you appear to have missed the earlier part of my lecture. I will not repeat to my students what they have already heard, but if you wish to discuss the matter I will inform you when we break."
Tharek laughed under his breath, looking her back in her eyes. "I apologise to the students of this lecture. And I would gladly recall you lecture with you."
------
It happened that the day was almost over. Imanil dealt with the few questions there were and left the podium.
Getal managed to intercept her, before she left. "You are Imanil, aren't you?" He asked.
"Professor Imanil Lemarrev, yes," she said. She was not surprised to see him, but the speed at which he had reached this place astounded her, she clutched the folder she carried a little closer to body as she made a closer appraisal; he was very tall, well built, and though his approach had been public, it was made with a degree of deference. Her scales prickled again, "My office is this way."
Imanil indicated the direction with the tilt of her head, one that showed her throat to its best advantage. "You will forgive me, Gul Getal, but I would not disadvantage my other students by repeating my words, even for your benefit. They must learn only what they are told and on a single iteration, or at the very least understand that I do not make exceptions, and that the only way to pass my course is to be on time and pay attention," she said as they walked, still unsure in what capacity he had attended her lecture.
Getal quivered again. "I admire your policies. Cardassia smiles on you and what you do Professor." He himself smiled to emphasise his point. "There is no forgiveness needed on your part Professor, it's me who must apologise."
"You're much too kind," Imanil said, her own smile lighting up her pale grey eyes.
It struck her that he had not for one second questioned her identity, something that happened with monotonous regularity on a first meeting. Even when they had seen her speak very few readily accepted that someone of her age could possibly be a professor.
"I wan't always so rigid," Imanil confessed as they walked. "My first lecture was a disaster!. Some of my students were three or four years older than I, and I simply could not make them listen to me. I almost resigned from the Institute there and then, but I had the presence of mind not to act so rashly." As they reached the door of her office Imanil paused, not quite sure why she was comfortable to confide such a private detail to someone she had just met. "I discussed what happened with my father. He told me that if I were not qualified for the role I would not have received it, which is true because the State is infallible. He also told me that I had a choice; I could be liked by my students, or I could be respected by them - it was my approach that would determine my failure or my success. Though I think even he would balk at me telling off Gul Getal of the Ninth Order just to hammer home a point," she said as she pressed her thumb to the keypad and the door opened.
"I do talk a lot," Imanil said as she entered her office. "You will say if I am boring you, won't you, Gul Getal? Do take a seat."
"Honest is the best policy." He said in response as he seated himself. This woman was literally perfect. Obedience to the State, through and through Cardassian father. Perfect. "It is better to be respected, than to be liked." He responded yet again. "Has anyone ever told you, you have beautiful eyes?" Tharek said, although they had just met, the comment was not awkward. It seemed to flow seamlessly.
Nobody ever had, nobody that Imanil had cared to listen to, anyway. "I'm you say that to every twenty year old professor that you meet," she said hoping that he would recognise both the humour and the irony; she was a prodigy, and one unparalled even in a society where high achievement was a common factor. Just in case her point was weak she kept her gaze on him.
"Most twenty year olds aren't as beautiful, charming, or as academically gifted as you are Imanil. Twenty years old and making Guls and students tremble with respect. You are definitely an asset to Cardassia."
"I strive to be so," Imanil replied as she finally placed her folder down on the desk. "I feel foolish asking the question, but what interest does the Ninth Order have in my lecture?" she imagined that he had followed her for an official reason; a man of his age, rank and appearance could hardly be without a wife, could he?
"I'm here as a guest speaker. Your lecture was to do with the Nor class stations. I'm to be stationed at Bajor soon, and Terok Nor will be my point of calling. I just needed to brush up on brilliance, so to speak." Getal shook his head gently, smirking slightly. "I do apologise, I'm muttering. In short, I'm here for your lecture and you. Not a Ninth Order command."
Imanil was in two minds, one, the most primal wished to tell him that he was the one who turned up late, when a date and time for her lecture had been clearly given, the second had no wish to point out that failing to him, after she had already publicly done so.
She sat then in her own chair behind the desk, and was reminded of the subtle architecture she had employed three years ago when she had assumed this post. It served her well in elevating her presence with students, but in this context it felt wrong to her.
Imanil stood again, "I haven't offered you any refreshment, Gul Getal," she said moving towards the replicator.
"Nothing replicated for me, thank you." He said, the warm smile seeping out.
His words answered one of her questions; he made demands that his normal circle were unlikely to be able to meet. Imanil bit the inside of her cheek in the second she thought on this, but when she stopped and turned back her bright smile was firmly in place.
Imanil was not sure what had just happened, or if anything had happened at all.
"If you wish for tea, I can have hot water brought in. If you prefer kanar, then I have some readily available," she said pleasantly.
Tharek mulled the thought over in his head. "Kanar sounds good. Join me in a glass?"
It was earlier than she would normally have taken a drink, but she was hostess here, and it was her guest's wishes she should attend to, Imanil knew that.
"Of course, Gul Getal," she said as she crossed the room and opened the mirrored cupboard that stood against the wall. Once she had poured two glasses she returned to her desk, but she sat in the second guest chair rather than her own subtly elevated one. Imanil placed her own glass on the desk as she offered the other to her guest.
Getal took the glass gently into his hand, caressing the skin of Imanil as he took it. It was unintentional, but the electric touch of skin on skin made the air fizzle.
"Should I call you Gul Getal forever?" Imanil asked, it was quite forward of her to indicate that he had not given his name, or leave for her to use it, but she did not need to be a Betazoid to know that he too had felt that spark.
"Tharek Getal." He said, the tingle of electricity stinging its way up his arm, and into his smile.
"Tharek, then," Imanil said softly, her intonation giving the gutteral consonants of his name an unusually soft edge. She thought that she should probably move her hand away but she didn't want to any more than she wanted to tear her gaze away.
He continued to smile, she had felt the spark, he knew it. Both hadn't torn their hand away either. Tharek moved his thumb, to encompass Imanil's.
"When do you leave for Terok Nor?" she asked - it must a be a day or so. He may have missed her lecture, but there was another way that she could help him familiarise herself with the station type. It wouldn't take long.
"Not yet. I have a few days to spare." He answered.
"Then perhaps I can use some of that time to take you through what you missed," she suggested. "If you came to me to learn more about the Nor class station, it would be remiss of me to allow you to leave without that knowledge."
Getal smiled. A smile that was no longer polite, or warm. It was exotic. A smile that indicated of what might happen soon, what could be. It was a smile that melted the air around them both.
Imanil shivered, her unguarded reaction both visible and reflexive. If he had not had his hand firmly over hers she might have drawn away. Imanil had never seen anyone look like that, either at her or at anyone else. The effect was almost hypnotic. What she really wanted to do was to reach out to him. She blinked slowly as she wondered how his skin would taste, how his hands would feel on her flesh.
Imanil flushed,finding no words to express what she was thinking.
"You seem to be blushing my dear." He said, placing his kanar down, and encompassing Imanil's already covered hand, with another.
It was a simple physiological response and one that she ought to have under control, but the intensity was unexpected; his words only made the colour deepen and spread down her throat and decolletage. Imaril lowered her gaze and stared at their intertwined hands.
Imaril was in territory of which she had only theoretical knowledge. The boys she met were either her students or sons of her parents friends and it was rare for any of them to converse with her for more than a minute before she marked them down as her intellectual inferior. The few that surmounted that hurdle were beneath her in a social context and so fell beneath her interest.
Tharek was quite obviously not a boy, he seemed able to follow her thought pattern, and his career and bearing placed him the in the right social strata.
"Tharek, I..." what could she possibly say?
"There's no need for words." He said as gently as possible. Emphasising his points, he brushed his hand across her cheek, which came to lay across Imanil's lips.
His touch was warm against her already flushed skin, she seemed to lean into his palm, and as her lips brushed the exposed skin of his lips she looked at him again, her pale grey eyes lit by the desire that had ignited within her.
Imanil reached out her own hand, and tentatively traced her fingers along his jaw, the tips tingled as they neared his chin.
Getal's eyes shifted from the passionate warmth, into a burning flame of desire. Using the hand already on Imanil, he brought her in closer, until the breath from either person could be felt. He leant in, and waited for the acceptance he sought.
As she left her chair she supported her weight against the low arm of the chair he occupied. Her free hand she ran back along his face, messing his meticulously neat hair. Imanlin pressed her lips to his, parting them as she did.
It was everything he asked. Tharek implemented his last test, to see if this woman was truly perfect. Granted, she was his intellectual superior. But emotionally, mentally, physically; that had to be Tharek's. This kiss would show him if she was everything he looked for. He took control, adding more and more passion into the kiss, waiting for her to attempt to match, or surrender herself into the embrace of Getal.
Imanil thought that she might be melting, with each second she felt a little less her own. She responded to his ardour, his passion leading her desire to a level she had never dreamed of. As she moved her other hand into his hair Imanil lost her support. The only thing that stopped her from sinking to her knees on the floor between his legs was his arm around her waist that stayed her descent, holding her in place as she lost herself in his kiss.
Getal held tightly onto Imanil, not wanting to release the moment to the ages. He wanted this moment to last, and last. He slowly brought the kiss to a halt though, to withdraw from her lips and look into her eyes. Waiting for the right words to appear. Any words to appear.
She stared into his eyes as she caught her breath. Imanil had never kissed anyone before now except her parents and her brothers, and certainly not like that. She linked her hands together behind his neck so at least he couldn't drop her if he was disgusted with her for being so forward.
But he did not, his arms remained where they were, "Please don't ever let me go," she breathed.
He smiled, solidifying the look. "I won't." Getal whispered, his words smoother than the finest silk.
Imanil simply hung there, her hands clasped around his neck as she absorbed his words. "I ..." she wanted to say something but the slightly salty taste of his mouth was more alluring to her.
"I find you quite magnificent," she breathed hoping that he would resume the kiss that she had begun.
He complied once again, leaning in and embracing her. All of her. Tasting and savouring every miniscule morsel of Imanil. She was beautiful. Delicious. Magnificent.
Gul Tharek Getal
Allegedly of the Ninth Order
&
Professor Imanil Lemarrev
Lecturer on Aesthetics and the Built Environment