Interlude – War of Words
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Thomas Whitlock
Post Details
ON:
The graffiti was sprayed across the frontage of the Box of Delights in scarlet Bajoran pictographs, eight foot tall.
Yolanthe, sunflower yellow, stood between Klia, and her Bajoran bartender, Rosh Pelin, and resisted the urge to scream. It hadn’t been there when they’d locked up at three that morning, and it was now midday. Possibly nine hours of this defacing her bar. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, Pel, what does it say?”
Pelin looked somewhat embarrassed. “Balikam Melhekat.” he mumbled.
“Which means...” she prompted.
Pelin squirmed a bit. “You’re not going to like this.”
“I already don’t like this.” She sighed. “Its calling me a slut, isn’t it?” The common pejoratives for women used within federation space had no real meaning in a society where women had been the dominant sex since time immemorial, but Yolanthe had enough of a grasp of popular culture to understand the usage.
“Worse than that.”
“What could be worse?”
“Its complicated.” Pelin stalled for a moment, while he marshaled his thoughts. “Back when the Cardassians occupied Bajor, they took women for...they called them Comfort Women.”
“You mean as sex slaves?” Her voice was flat, distinctly unimpressed. “And that’s what that says?”
“Sort of.” He tugged at his earring. “Most of the women were forced. Beaten until they complied, or just plain raped. But some women wanted to do it. They went out and did whatever it took to catch a spoony’s eye. Collaborated, spied on their own people, became as bad as the cardies themselves.” He took a deep breath. “Melhekat is just about the worst thing you can call a woman these days. Its all the worst parts of whore, traitor, collaborator and opportunist rolled into one. It’s calling you that, and saying to get lost.”
"Doing a little redecorating?" Thomas asked, walking up to stand beside Yolanthe. He turned his head a little to look at the writing. "Not sure if it fits though. Maybe a few more swirls or geometric shapes," he suggested. "You know, something to add a little more variety to the pattern."
Yolanthe's colour lightened a shade or two. A journalist was quite possibly the last person she wanted to see at this moment. She turned to Pelin. "See what you can do about getting it cleaned off. Lets not leave it up there any longer than we have to."
Then she turned back to Whitlock. "Thomas, isn't it?"
"Glad to see you remember me," Thomas said with a smile. "I knew you couldn't resist my charm," he added with a wink.
Klia looked from her friend to the human. The little Orion girl was pale and wide-eyed. "Him as well?" she glared up at Yolanthe. "What happened to 'just admiring the view'? 'Not bothering with all that anymore'?" She turned on her small heel and stormed off into the Box of Delights, "I think you need to decide which of us is supposed to be the insatiable alien slut!"
"Klia!" Yolanthe pleaded with the Orion's retreating back, wanting to go and placate her friend, explain the mistake, but not wanting to leave the journalist unsupervised in front of the defacement of her bar.
Yolanthe turned back to Thomas. "I'm sorry you had to see all of this." she meant both Klia's outburst and the graffiti. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Ummm......does breakfast ring a bell?" Thomas asked, glancing in the direction the Orion had gone and wondering if there was a story there.
Breakfast did ring a bell. It had been a few days, she'd almost forgotten. And it would get Thomas well away from the Box of Delights. "Yes! Excellent idea." She put her hands on his shoulders, turned him through one-eighty degrees and propelled him towards the stairs closest to the replimat. "Lets go."
Thomas looked at her hands on his shoulders and smiled at her. "Where are we going?" he asked as he walked to the stairs. "I thought we were going to eat at the Box."
"I'm not open for another six hours, and I try not to eat bar snacks for breakfast." Plus with the mood Klia's in, she'll kill me. she added to herself. Once she had him moving she took her hands off him. "The replimat does a reasonable fruit salad and a passable red leaf tea. I thought we could talk somewhere more morning orientated."
Thomas sighed as she removed her hands. "Breakfast in bed is 'morning oriented'," he said with a sly smile.
Her white eyes rolled in exasperation as they climbed the stairs together. "Are you sure you're not part Orion or something?"
Thomas chuckled and said, "You can't blame me for trying." He looked her up and down and smiled. "Can you?" He turned his attention to the area. "How much further?"
"Left at the top, straight in front of you." Yolanthe smiled at that, and shifted to a soft powder blue. "And thank you for the compliment."
They entered the replimat. More than a few curious eyes looked directly at the Bokkai. Normally she would have dismissed it as the curiosity of a seeing a six-foot plus woman, but these looks were followed by whispers. She almost turned round and went , but she was not going to be cowed by a someone with a spray can and a foul turn of mind. She ordered herself a fruit salad and a tea, and then headed to a table off to the side with low comfy chairs, expecting Thomas to follow.
Thomas ordered a steak, egg and cheese burrito and a cup of coffee and followed her to the table. "So...come here often?" he asked her as he sat across from her.
"Not really. Just when I need to get out of the bar. Like this morning." She took a sip from her tea. "How are your stories going. getting any more substantiated?"
"It's taking longer than I thought it would," Thomas admitted to her. "What I need is someone that hears a lot of gossip to help with some of the details," he said, looking at her.
She looked at him straight back. "The confidentiality of the bar-side confession is sacrosanct." She picked up a strawberry and bit it in half. "Why should I put my good name," she winced slightly, thinking of what the Bajorran graffito had called her, "at risk?"
"I keep my sources confidential and I won't publish anything without confirming the information first," Thomas said to her.
She thought about it. But it was too soon, she wasn't established well enough, and confidentiality was everything. "Look, I'm sorry, Thomas. I'm not going to trade in scuttlebutt. I just can't afford any possible damage right now." She held up her hand to forestall the inevitable interruption. "But you're very welcome to hang around the bar and keep your ears open. And buy drinks."
"And flirt with the owner," he said with a wink as he sipped his coffee. "I completely understand though."
"And flirt with the owner," she allowed, "As long as being perpetually turned down doesn't bother you."
"I'm still hoping you'll have pity on me and give in," he said, giving her his best smile. "What was that all about outside the Box?" he asked.
Her skin shifted to a grey tinged mustard. And she wasn't sure whether involving the journalist would be a good idea or not. "Do you read Bajorran?" Might as well try and figure out how much he would know already.
"No I don't," he said to her. "Is that what was on your wall?"
"Yes. Someone put it up there during the small hours after we shut last night. I don't know why."
"I'll look into it," Thomas said, a slight glint in his eye at the thought.
She thought about it, and her own attempts at amateur investigation. "That probably won't make security very happy." And did she care? Not as much as she probably should.
"I'll do it as a favor to you," Thomas said with a wink. "Besides, Commander Gabriel already doesn't like me so it won't be anything new if he gets mad."
"You will tell me first if you find anything out, won't you?"
"Of course I will," Thomas said immediately. "I'll be doing it for you so who else would I be telling? Commander Gabriel?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
"It probably wouldn't do you any good if it did. I doubt civilians' problems don't rate high on his priority list." She stood, and drained the last of her tea. "I'd better go and help them clean that shit off my windows. Thank you for anything you can do."
"Glad to be of service," Thomas replied, eager to get on her good side. "I'll keep you informed."
OFF
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner & Bartender, the Box of Delights
Thomas Whitlock
FNS Reporter
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Thomas Whitlock
Post Details
| Title | War of Words | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Thomas Whitlock | |
| Posted | Wed Jun 16, 2010 @ 6:37pm | |
| Location | Promenade | |
| Timeline | SD25, midday |
The graffiti was sprayed across the frontage of the Box of Delights in scarlet Bajoran pictographs, eight foot tall.
Yolanthe, sunflower yellow, stood between Klia, and her Bajoran bartender, Rosh Pelin, and resisted the urge to scream. It hadn’t been there when they’d locked up at three that morning, and it was now midday. Possibly nine hours of this defacing her bar. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, Pel, what does it say?”
Pelin looked somewhat embarrassed. “Balikam Melhekat.” he mumbled.
“Which means...” she prompted.
Pelin squirmed a bit. “You’re not going to like this.”
“I already don’t like this.” She sighed. “Its calling me a slut, isn’t it?” The common pejoratives for women used within federation space had no real meaning in a society where women had been the dominant sex since time immemorial, but Yolanthe had enough of a grasp of popular culture to understand the usage.
“Worse than that.”
“What could be worse?”
“Its complicated.” Pelin stalled for a moment, while he marshaled his thoughts. “Back when the Cardassians occupied Bajor, they took women for...they called them Comfort Women.”
“You mean as sex slaves?” Her voice was flat, distinctly unimpressed. “And that’s what that says?”
“Sort of.” He tugged at his earring. “Most of the women were forced. Beaten until they complied, or just plain raped. But some women wanted to do it. They went out and did whatever it took to catch a spoony’s eye. Collaborated, spied on their own people, became as bad as the cardies themselves.” He took a deep breath. “Melhekat is just about the worst thing you can call a woman these days. Its all the worst parts of whore, traitor, collaborator and opportunist rolled into one. It’s calling you that, and saying to get lost.”
"Doing a little redecorating?" Thomas asked, walking up to stand beside Yolanthe. He turned his head a little to look at the writing. "Not sure if it fits though. Maybe a few more swirls or geometric shapes," he suggested. "You know, something to add a little more variety to the pattern."
Yolanthe's colour lightened a shade or two. A journalist was quite possibly the last person she wanted to see at this moment. She turned to Pelin. "See what you can do about getting it cleaned off. Lets not leave it up there any longer than we have to."
Then she turned back to Whitlock. "Thomas, isn't it?"
"Glad to see you remember me," Thomas said with a smile. "I knew you couldn't resist my charm," he added with a wink.
Klia looked from her friend to the human. The little Orion girl was pale and wide-eyed. "Him as well?" she glared up at Yolanthe. "What happened to 'just admiring the view'? 'Not bothering with all that anymore'?" She turned on her small heel and stormed off into the Box of Delights, "I think you need to decide which of us is supposed to be the insatiable alien slut!"
"Klia!" Yolanthe pleaded with the Orion's retreating back, wanting to go and placate her friend, explain the mistake, but not wanting to leave the journalist unsupervised in front of the defacement of her bar.
Yolanthe turned back to Thomas. "I'm sorry you had to see all of this." she meant both Klia's outburst and the graffiti. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Ummm......does breakfast ring a bell?" Thomas asked, glancing in the direction the Orion had gone and wondering if there was a story there.
Breakfast did ring a bell. It had been a few days, she'd almost forgotten. And it would get Thomas well away from the Box of Delights. "Yes! Excellent idea." She put her hands on his shoulders, turned him through one-eighty degrees and propelled him towards the stairs closest to the replimat. "Lets go."
Thomas looked at her hands on his shoulders and smiled at her. "Where are we going?" he asked as he walked to the stairs. "I thought we were going to eat at the Box."
"I'm not open for another six hours, and I try not to eat bar snacks for breakfast." Plus with the mood Klia's in, she'll kill me. she added to herself. Once she had him moving she took her hands off him. "The replimat does a reasonable fruit salad and a passable red leaf tea. I thought we could talk somewhere more morning orientated."
Thomas sighed as she removed her hands. "Breakfast in bed is 'morning oriented'," he said with a sly smile.
Her white eyes rolled in exasperation as they climbed the stairs together. "Are you sure you're not part Orion or something?"
Thomas chuckled and said, "You can't blame me for trying." He looked her up and down and smiled. "Can you?" He turned his attention to the area. "How much further?"
"Left at the top, straight in front of you." Yolanthe smiled at that, and shifted to a soft powder blue. "And thank you for the compliment."
They entered the replimat. More than a few curious eyes looked directly at the Bokkai. Normally she would have dismissed it as the curiosity of a seeing a six-foot plus woman, but these looks were followed by whispers. She almost turned round and went , but she was not going to be cowed by a someone with a spray can and a foul turn of mind. She ordered herself a fruit salad and a tea, and then headed to a table off to the side with low comfy chairs, expecting Thomas to follow.
Thomas ordered a steak, egg and cheese burrito and a cup of coffee and followed her to the table. "So...come here often?" he asked her as he sat across from her.
"Not really. Just when I need to get out of the bar. Like this morning." She took a sip from her tea. "How are your stories going. getting any more substantiated?"
"It's taking longer than I thought it would," Thomas admitted to her. "What I need is someone that hears a lot of gossip to help with some of the details," he said, looking at her.
She looked at him straight back. "The confidentiality of the bar-side confession is sacrosanct." She picked up a strawberry and bit it in half. "Why should I put my good name," she winced slightly, thinking of what the Bajorran graffito had called her, "at risk?"
"I keep my sources confidential and I won't publish anything without confirming the information first," Thomas said to her.
She thought about it. But it was too soon, she wasn't established well enough, and confidentiality was everything. "Look, I'm sorry, Thomas. I'm not going to trade in scuttlebutt. I just can't afford any possible damage right now." She held up her hand to forestall the inevitable interruption. "But you're very welcome to hang around the bar and keep your ears open. And buy drinks."
"And flirt with the owner," he said with a wink as he sipped his coffee. "I completely understand though."
"And flirt with the owner," she allowed, "As long as being perpetually turned down doesn't bother you."
"I'm still hoping you'll have pity on me and give in," he said, giving her his best smile. "What was that all about outside the Box?" he asked.
Her skin shifted to a grey tinged mustard. And she wasn't sure whether involving the journalist would be a good idea or not. "Do you read Bajorran?" Might as well try and figure out how much he would know already.
"No I don't," he said to her. "Is that what was on your wall?"
"Yes. Someone put it up there during the small hours after we shut last night. I don't know why."
"I'll look into it," Thomas said, a slight glint in his eye at the thought.
She thought about it, and her own attempts at amateur investigation. "That probably won't make security very happy." And did she care? Not as much as she probably should.
"I'll do it as a favor to you," Thomas said with a wink. "Besides, Commander Gabriel already doesn't like me so it won't be anything new if he gets mad."
"You will tell me first if you find anything out, won't you?"
"Of course I will," Thomas said immediately. "I'll be doing it for you so who else would I be telling? Commander Gabriel?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
"It probably wouldn't do you any good if it did. I doubt civilians' problems don't rate high on his priority list." She stood, and drained the last of her tea. "I'd better go and help them clean that shit off my windows. Thank you for anything you can do."
"Glad to be of service," Thomas replied, eager to get on her good side. "I'll keep you informed."
OFF
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner & Bartender, the Box of Delights
Thomas Whitlock
FNS Reporter