WIPpet Wednesday: A Horse’s What Did You Say?

 

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It is hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys!

I’m sharing a snippet from The IDIC Romance, my Story A Day May Challenge project. This is a Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction, exploring the interspecies relationship of T’Pol and Trip.

Disclaimers: T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!

Last week Trip and T’Pol tried to figure stuff out. This week, they take it a step – or a saying – further…this one’s pretty long, but I had fun with Kathi’s word, ‘horse’s’ – pretty much everything in this snippet is brand new material! Thanks, WIPpet Mistress!

Will Trip be able to explain slang toT’Pol? Do they both have secret agendas? Read on!

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is December 17, 2014.
  • My simple math: 18 paragraphs, with lots of quick dialogue, and one added as a December treat (one shabbos candle; one star; one snowflake; one month to go till 2015, one saying, or another…your choice!)

Add-on scene for the pilot episode: Broken Bow Part 1. Ive done my best to extrapolate without violating series canon.

 

So, you like being in the company of a horse’s ass, then?” I whispered it so softly, I wasn’t even sure I’d made a sound, but T’Pol turned to face me again, the frown right where I thought it would be. Figuring her out was promising to be even more fun than figuring out that fancy Warp Five engine up on Enterprise.

Is ‘a horse’s ass’ analogous to a ‘jackass’, Trip?” She raised a brow at me, and tipped her head a little, and I’d be damned if it didn’t look like she had a bright little glimmer in her eyes while she waited for her answer. Was I really gonna finally get lucky enough to have a woman I wanted to figure out think I was worth figuring out, too? But then I remembered that she was going to be gone, as soon as we got that huge Klingon fellow back to his own people. She’d be at the damned Vulcan Consulate, where protocol said she had to stay put, not even go out for a few minutes. They sure as hell weren’t going to let her keep in touch with a human engineer…

Unless I could figure out a way to make her want to stay, the Cap’n agree to keeping her around – and the damned Vulcan High Command to assign her to us permanently…

If you are attempting to discover the lower threshold of my auditory range, you have done so.”

What – oh. No, I didn’t say anything – I kinda got to thinking…” But I couldn’t tell her, not yet. I figured we needed to actually get to bed with each other, first, spend some quality time where she could let go the way she seemed to want to, at least sometimes.

Does my query truly require so much analysis?”

Your query -?” Damn, I’d gotten distracted by plotting to keep her here; what the hell had she asked me?

Are the terms ‘a horse’s ass’and ‘jackass’ analogous?”

Oh. Right. Well, yes and no, I guess. I’m pretty sure a ‘jackass’ was actually a term for a male donkey, originally. A ‘horse’s ass’ is technically the – well, the rump of the horse.” I patted my own backside for effect. “But, when they’re used to describe behavior, they mean pretty much the same thing.”

I fail to see the logic in the terminology.” That glimmer was still in her eyes, and I suddenly got the idea that she might just be indulging her ‘fascination’ with me, too.

Maybe that’s because it’s not ‘terminology’, and it’s not supposed to be logical. They’re just sayings, T’Pol – you know, idioms. Figures of speech. Expressions.” She just looked at me, her face never changing, as though maybe she was waiting for me to start making sense. It might be a long wait, sweetheart…but I was damned sure gonna try to teach her something; make good use of every chance for inter-species understanding I could. “There are a lot of sayings with horses in them, maybe because they were an important part of our history.”

Such as?”

You can lead a horse to water; but you can’t make him drink. Getting up on your high horse. A herd of wild horses couldn’t keep me away. Horsefeathers. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Horse sense. That’s a horse of a different color. Dark horse. Don’t beat a dead horse. I could eat a horse – ”

I believe I have heard enough. Does each of these – figures of speech – carry some significance, to humans?”

Well, it’s kind of cultural; informal language isn’t the same as formal. People from different areas use different expressions. Malcolm, Travis, and Hoshi all use some I’m not used to, because they grew up in different places. It’s not an exact science, or a science at all, but, if you understand the expression someone’s using, it gives you a better sense of what they mean, without them needing to explain.”

It seems a most -inexact method of communication. There is no such confusion, in Vulcan.” She looked like she was trying to figure out if that was a good thing, or not. Maybe she was fascinated by slang- wouldn’t that be something, with the way she talked?

You mean, there aren’t any idioms, at all?” She shook her head a little, and I tried to imagine what that would be like, but couldn’t. Or maybe I could – a whole planet of people who sounded like living computers, the way she sometimes did, at least before we got locked in here. “I guess we’ve got a lot to learn about each other’s cultures,” I said. “I’m looking forward to having the chance to figure it out with you.”

Perhaps at least some of the ‘figuring out’ could be done upon a comfortable bed, and behind a door that can be locked.” She’d been still, this whole time, but now she started to quiver again – and her scent and her eyes spoke another type of language entirely. One I thought I could spend about a lifetime getting to know…

Did T’Pol just proposition Trip?! Will they find the elusive bed and door, and the time to use them to figure each other out?

Come back next week to find out more!

SoCS : Back Through the Wreckage

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme.

The idea is simple – post an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt -this week’s is back.

This week, I’m going back (see what I did there?) to my Star Trek: TOS/Enterprise crossover fan fiction novel-in-progress, The Earth Doth Move. We’ve heard from Spock and his father, Sarek, in past SoCs posts; now, as I move through the final few scenes of the draft, we get to experience a moment through the viewpoint of Amanda Grayson, Spock’s human mother, as she contemplates the aftermath of disaster, and the steps taken to avoid devastation.

This post is also a little special for another reason. In the just after midnight hours of November 1, I began this novel as my NaNoWriMo 2014 project. And, because my children and their out of state best friends like to spend Halloween together, I began it right where I am now, just after midnight on December 13, (12/13/14!), on the guest bed at the home of my very own personal patron of the arts, Sylvia Woodman.

I’d love to finish the seven scenes and a bit I have left to write before we leave here Sunday evening. There’d be a certain symmetry in completing it, back here where I started it. I’m not sure I can do it, but I’m giving it a try!

Here’s that first post, Memory Swirled….

And, now, onto the new! =D

Disclaimer: Spock, his family, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful even when I’m not logical!

Amanda’s mind drifted back, through the past days, through the sharing, reaching to hold her son, to feel him as much as she was able.

Would Spock be able to find his way back to them, through the wreckage of his psyche? Could there be healing, for him, when the wound was so traumatic, still so open and bleeding?

The Starfleet physicians had tended to his body – T’Pol had sensed that much. The physical wounds were no longer a threat to his life, but they’d come from his inner injury, and they couldn’t heal that for him. Not even the extraordinary sharing could heal him – only offer him support, and a way back if he was strong enough, and if he chose to take it. And if he could…

“Amanda, it’s time.”

“Wha – oh!” She hadn’t known that she had fallen asleep, until T’Pol’s voice jolted her awake – awake from some dream of Spock and his Huntress, Sarek and Winona, T’Pol and Trip, all dancing along in their sharings, without her – she was bereft, on the outside, with no way to get back to them….

“You aren’t alone, you know.” She opened her eyes to T’Pol, standing on her own now, but with the human man’s arm wound snugly around her waist. Trip was smiling at her. “We’ve all felt left out a time or two. But you’re not. You’re our boy’s mom, and if anyone can help him find his way back from the edge, it’s you, and we’re all here to back you up as best as we can -“

“Enough, Trip. You won’t speak to her further, now. You’re correct; I’m a jealous woman, and it’s best that you don’t forget.”

“Silly little pepperpot. Now that I’m back with you, do you think I’d be stupid enough to screw this up?”

“Past experience suggests that either of us might ‘screw this up’, in a variety of ways.”

“That ‘past experience’ is a century old! Give us both some credit for having learned a thing or two.”

T’Pol accepted his proffered ouz’hesta; fingers brushed fingers, soul brushed soul, and Amanda longed to feel that touch so badly that her own fingers twitched and ached for it, her soul opening to -to -

To Sarek, reaching back to her through their bond, which was singing and alive as he stretched toward her, enveloped her in awareness of him, made her truly a part of what he was sharing with Winona, from whom he was gradually pulling back; retreating, as he became more and more able to reclaim his own will, as the compulsion to act out Spock’s longings and madness faded away…

This week’s guest prompt comes to us from Pavowski.  I don’t mind that he’s a high school English teacher; he doesn’t seem to mind that my teen’s never attended school a day in his life (but knows about anthropomorphism, because he does watch PBS!)

Enjoy stream-of consciousness writing? Anyone can play, so long as they are willing to follow a few simple rules. See you next week, for another live-streaming look into the lovely chaos in my mind! =)

Join in or read more SoCS posts here!

WIPpet Wednesday:“That Query is Illogical”

 

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It is hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys!

I’ve been a little – remote- here, the last few weeks, as the new story devoured me whole. It’s not done yet, but NaNo is, so I’m stepping back a bit. I’ve got comments galore to answer from my lovely fellow WIPpeteers, and I intend to get back to visiting everyone, because I kinda haven’t been, and I want to see what all of your characters are up to, too!

NaNo is a wonderful form of madness….

The madness that is NaNo!

I’m sharing a snippet from The IDIC Romance, my Story A Day May Challenge project. This is a Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction, exploring the interspecies relationship of T’Pol and Trip. Oh, and the word “Kill” appears especially for our WIPpet Mistress, who earned it! =D

Disclaimers: T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!

Last week, we time-traveled from the Suliban cell to the future. This week, we come back, to find Trip hiding in the corner, so that T’Pol can’t play with his hair…because that seems to get them both all hot and bothered (OK, at this point, pretty much everything does, but…).

Does it work? Does she follow him? Read on!

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is December 3, 2014.
  • My simple math: 16 mostly short paragraphs: 12+3=15, and one added as a December treat (one shabbos candle; one star; one snowflake; one month to go till 2015, one confused human in a cell….your choice!)
  • You also get the last paragraph from About a Thousand Years Ago..”, bolded, for context.

This story is an add-on scene for the pilot episode: Broken Bow Part 1. Ive done my best to extrapolate without violating series canon.

 

I scrubbed a hand over my face and through my hair – damn, please don’t let her decide she needs to fix it again! Before she could, I whirled around and paced the three steps to the corner she’d gone to after that first kiss, about a thousand years ago, now…

It didn’t stop me wanting her, but it did mean I couldn’t touch her. I squeezed my eyes closed, as if that could help with the imprint she’d left on my brain, my body – my damned imagination..

I could almost feel her quivering, and her scent was thick in the little room, Her taste still lingered on my tongue, clean and spicily sweet, a little like honeyed ginger tea. “Gimme a minute or two….please.”

“Certainly, Commander.”

How the hell did she manage to be formal and sultry at the same time….? I gave up trying not to see her, and watched as she moved to the front of the cell. I remembered too late how much I enjoyed the rear view…damn, and damn again. This was a damn torture chamber – and torture had never felt so damned good…”Hey, T’Pol?

“Yes, Commander Tucker?”

“You don’t happen to be carrying a lockable door and a nice big comfy bed in one of your jacket pockets, do you?”

“That query is illogical.” She turned around to look at me, that little frown saying I’d confused her again.

“I know it is,” I told her. “I needed to think of something else. So, I can assume you’re not hiding a bed, right?”

“You may make that assumption, if you wish.” Her voice was as measured as if she was talking about the composition of water. But her eyes – those gorgeous eyes, their hazel hidden by dilated pupils – made a slow, sensual journey from the top of my head, where I swore I could feel her fingers in my hair and on my ears, to my throat, with her about to tug down my zipper, to – well – the part of my she’d ground herself against as though there was nothing else that mattered, in all the universe.

And, dammit, I was responding again, as if she was actually pressed against me – and her eyes glowed as she bit her lip. She looked straight into my eyes, and it was as intimate as though she was in my arms. “You’re an engineer,” she whispered huskily. “Couldn’t you- adapt – something that would – suffice?”

My body – or parts of it, anyway – sure as hell wanted me to tell her I could. So did most of my brain. I swallowed a whole damned Vulcan desert’s worth of parched air, and muttered under my breath, “If we’ve gotta stay in here much longer, it’s gonna kill me, I just know it.”

Then perhaps, Commander, we should abandon the attempt to fashion a bed or a door, and instead focus on escape. It would be – most unfortunate, if you were to meet your demise before the end of your inaugural mission.”

I blushed, and tried to get something out – anything- but nothing came. How the hell had she heard me? What other stupid things had I said, and how many of those had she heard?

T’Pol began feeling along the edge of the force field, standing up on her toes and reaching high, emphasizing the strong lines and curves of her body, and I itched to pull her close, forget everything but how we felt together…

Sexy as hell. She was definitely gonna be the death of me.

And I didn’t think I was going to mind, at all.

After all this, are they really going to stage a jailbreak? Is there a comfy bed and a lockable door in their future? And just how good are T’Pol’s ears, anyway? Come back next week to find out more!

Coffee and Conversation: Sometimes, You Just Gotta Na-Know, Y’Know?

Grab a cuppa and a comfy seat, and let’s chat a while! It’s time for Coffee and Conversation!

When I was six, my family was driving on a highway late at night. Streaks of headlights and taillights painted the dark. For the first time, I realized that each car held people living lives as important to them as mine was to me.

I wanted to know what those lives were, and to share my own..

In high school, nearly 30 years ago, I had an assignment that asked me to describe the career we’d like to eventually have, and how we thought the advent of home computers might change the nature of that career.

I chose writing, and posited that the computer wouldn’t do much to change the 1987 current reality of writing. Sure, I reasoned, it might be easier to print using a keyboard and screen where I could fix typos without whiteout, and not have many many trees killed for my art, but computers couldn’t do the writing, because they didn’t have human experiences. They’d never be more the a sidenote to my writing – sort of a fancier, more efficient version of the Smith-Corona electric typewriter I received for graduation.

I didn’t know, then, what computers would come to be, in the next decade or two. I didn’t know about the Internet; Facebook and Google and Netflix and Amazon and blogging simply didn’t exist. Twitter was just a sound made by gaggles of little girls…or a flock of birds.

I didn’t know that the computer would become both a writing resource, and an outlet. I had no clue whatsoever what computers could be, and how vastly important a tool they would become for my writing life (not to mention life in general).

What do I mean?

Well, take absinthe, for example. My personal experience with the wormwood-infused alcohol is non-existent – well, OK, I know a person or two who’ve tried it; and I’ve seen a bottle of it, and been offered a sample, which I refused.

Green Muse” -Albert Maignan [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

For myself, that’s enough. But I’m a writer, and, during November’s National Novel Writing Month, I had a character who tries absinthe in an attempt to deal with “larger issues” – he’s a telepath who needs to make and maintain contact with someone on an unknown planet, and he’s used pschychoactive substances in the past to achieve that contact. Absinthe turns out to be an excellent catalyst, for that purpose, but his growing passion for it wreaks havoc on his life…

So I needed to know something about absinthe, and this magical window whisked me away and led me down a trail where I learned :

  • the composition of absinthe
  • the chemical aspects of wormwood
  • the ritual of preparation
  • (and why, scientifically, it matters)
  • the history of the drink
  • the language used in relation to it
  • art featuring absinthe
  • rumor, propaganda, and facts
  • the effects of absinthe
  • famous people who favored absinthe;
  • and those lovely spoons…

By SDC (Copied from the English Wikipedia.) [see page for license], via Wikimedia Commons

From the research, my story evolved. My character not only has his life turned upside down by absinthe- it becomes the moving force propelling him through a good deal of the story, and a symbol of those “larger issues” he was dealing with. It provides sensory detail and imagery that feed the story, and led this character – and others – down paths I never suspected they’d take (and I planned this story). The spoons he and others choose for the ritual become symbols for who they are, or who they see themselves as. The process of preparation becomes an analogy for what’s happening in this character’s life, and within him, through the story…the changes and challenges he undergoes.

Without the Internet, I might have been able to come up with some information on absinthe- but it wouldn’t have been instantly available, to be explored in the moment of inspiration. It would have been rigid and limited – static. It wouldn’t have shifted with my explorations, accommodating the shifts my imagination made along the way. I wouldn’t have been able to adjust the research with a new click, save the relevant pages electronically, and navigate smoothly from one site to the next. So my story would have been either more vague, or less organic, than it will be.

And what I looked at was only the tip of that iceberg…I can learn far more, just as easily, if I need or want to. And not just about absinthe – about nearly any subject I can think of.

No, the Internet won’t write my story for me – but it does give me the resources to be a better writer, in an endlessly customizable way.

So, to my former English teacher, I offer this hindsight 20/20 update. While it’s true that computers aren’t doing my writing, they have changed just about every aspect of my writing life…in ways I couldn’t even imagine, back in 1987.

And I’m very happy about that!

How about you? If you’ve been around long enough to remember the pre-Internet world, in what ways is your life different, now? If you’ve always had Internet access, can you imagine what life would be without it? I’ll pour the beverages (absinthe, anyone?), and listen….chime right in!

By Eric Litton (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Leaving My NaNo-Nest: December 1, 2014

Come ROW with us! =D

Note: I wrote this early early Sunday morning. Lotta words since then…so I’m leaving it, for now. More NaNo details to come on Wednesday!

Can you believe that it’s nearly over (or, depending on your time zone, that it already is over)?

As I type this, at 3am, I’m also making my last final push for NaNoWriMo 2014. If I can write three scenes today, I will have moved all three of my POV characters into their Act Threes.

My supporting characters are already there, but my main character needs those scenes to happen, so that he can get there, too…

At the beginning of NANo, I thought I’d finish the draft this month; but it’s gotten longer and more involved than I thought it would be. It’s fan fiction I’ll be offering freely, so that’s OK, but it means that I’ll have more December writing to do than I anticipated.

And about December…I’ll post some monthly goals on Wednesday, when I’ve had a day or two to reset and relax, post-NaNo. It will be a mellower month, though…and that will be lovely, after intensity.

How about you? Do you NaNo? If so, how are you feeling, at the end? Is December a chaotic or a peaceful month, in your life?

What my NaNoWriMo 2014 looked like!

November Focuses:

  • Complete rough draft of The Earth Doth Move (NaNo 2014). Goal adapted.

  • All fitness and nutrition goals.

  • Maintain blogging goals.

Target Attained:

2014 Hometending:

Maintain email Inbox at a manageable level (below 333 for November, due to NaNo).

  • 302/333.
  • Went over once; mostly just dealing with a few a day, to stay below threshold, until NaNo is officially over.

2014 Fitness:

  • At least one strenuous home/yardtending activity each week.
  • Dance, swim, or play physically with kids at least once each week.
  • Plan at least two monthly excursions that promote physical activity.

2014 Nutrition:

Maintain existing nutrition goals ((smoothies/salads;yogurt; soup:nuts; grains).

  • 2/2 Greek yogurt.

  • 1/1Vegetable pesto soup.

  • 3/ 2 Nuts (macadamias; slivered almonds, sunflower seeds).

  • 4/3 Grain (whole grain bread).

  • 5/5; 4 salads; 1 blueberry/pomegranate smoothie.

  • A very good week for all of these! =)

Eat fresh vegetables other than salads (raw or cooked), and/or fresh fruits at least 3 times each week.

  • Many/3; extra veggies on a sub; romaine and avocado on a BLT; clementines; banana; raw carrot/ranch dip; Brussels sprouts; broccoli; corn on the cob; sweet potato.

  • I made good use of our Thanksgiving trip to a buffet restaurant to veggie-load -yum!

ROW80 Sponsor duties:

  • Visit my “team” twice weekly.

  • Visit other ROWers as time and energy permit.

Well, I think everyone who gives it a whirl wins, but I do love this graphic, so…

Progressing:

2014 Blogging:

Build positive blogging habits – post regularly, answer comments, and share diversely.

  • Still sporadic, but I plan some nice relaxing catchup for next week, so things’ll be better then.

  • I still“owe” a Cand C post, but I did an ‘extra’ #SparkleFriday post, so it kind of balances.

2014 Writing:

  • Complete first draft of The Earth Doth Move by December 31, writing at least 2,000 words daily.

  • Current Chapter: 10/20

  • Current Scene: 38/60

  • Word Count: 157,148/~200,000

  • New Words: 29,479!

  • New Pages: 51!

  • Finishing up Pinch Point #2 for my MC, who informed me that I had this pivotal scene plotted all wrong. He thinks the same about the next couple of scenes, too…

2014 Hometending:

Continue cleaning and organizing my study.

  • More magnet progress.

Complete the family room reset.

  • Between my Accomplice and I, we have a tidy new coat area right by the front door! Woot!

Continue using calendar app to manage my time.

  • Nothing new.

2014 Lifetending:

Read 2 of the 8 TBR books on the bookcase by my bed.

Continue my FutureLearn class, Exploring Play, until finished.

  • Still at 38% complete. Week 3/7. Class ended; nothing new.

Return to exploring Play Jar slips in a playful, FUN way!

  • Nothing new.

2014 Fitness:

Weekly workout at the Y;4 weight-bearing exercises/machines for arms/legs/core weekly.

  • Not specifically, but I did carry a 100 plus pound girl on my back for 10-15 minutes, making several laps of the pool.

Treadmill: 18 minute mile, walking/jogging; using “Rolling Hills” Program.

  • 19.27 minute mile. A little ways to go…
  • Still standing at this marker; no treadmill this week.

Build to one half mile walking/jogging on the track each week.

  • Skipped the track this week.

Recumbent bike: 8 miles in 30 minutes, using an interval program.

  • Skipped.

Add time on elliptical, arc trainer, and/or rowing machines: goal is 10 minutes on each, at least twice monthly.

  • Skipped these this week.

2014 Nutrition:

Drink one glass/bottle of water each day.

  • I missed Friday and Saturday. NaNo brain!

Think I might treat myself….I never have, before…

Not Yet:

2014 Blogging:

  • Build blogging queues.

2014 Hometending:

  • Continue the massive kitchen reset.

  • Take time at least once a week to simply be in my study.

2014 Lifetending:

2014 Fitness:

  • Work up to 2 miles, at any speed for the second mile.
  • Use Wii Fit at least 3 days weekly, for a minimum of ten minutes.
  • Maintain or reduce body weight – monthly checks.

2014 Nutrition:

That’s it for me! If you’re so inclined, cheer on other ROWers here!

SoCS : “Scents and Sensibility”

 

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme.

The idea is simple – post an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt -this week’s is:

“Sense/scents/cents,” with a bonus word this week – “sent.” Choose one, use them all or simply write whatever comes to mind- it’s up to you!

It’s November, and, for me, that means NaNoWriMo. For this month, I’ll be using the prompts to inspire passages of my novel-in-progress, The Earth Doth Move.

I’ve got another 889 words, with a covert and sensory-rich observation…

Disclaimer: Spock, his family, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful even when I’m not logical!

Layered through the choking scent of the smoke were other odors. The stale accumulation of human perspiration, of bodies not washed and tended as well or as often as they might be. Sarek had heard the phrase, “the scent of desperation”, but, until he came here, he had not understood it, as he did not understand so many of the “sayings” that humans employed so often in their speech.

Now he thought that he might. If desperation could be sensed through olfactory capacity, it might well smell like this – a blending of smoke and sweat and far too much artificial scent, male musks and female florals, presumably in some largely unsuccessful attempt to cover the lack of basic hygiene. Alcohol, in many varieties, and in vast quantities. Pheremone releases, strange to his Vulcan perception. The old spoor of vomit, tainted with the copper tang of human blood.

Sarek sat with alcohol before him, leaning over the glass, hands wrapped around it, hunched into his clothing, in conscious imitation of every other man in this establishment-

And then, the door swung open, admitting light and life and freshness.

A handsome young couple, clad in black chased with green the precise shade of Vulcan blood, Vulcan passion. They had arms wound round one another, and both wore smiles, emitted reckless laughter, and exuded careless sexuality.

“Well now, Dragon and Thistle – it’s about time you two got here to show the old drunks a thing or two they’ve forgotten. Will it be the usual?”

“It will indeed.” The young man placed money on the counter; Sarek couldn’t tell the amount, from this distance, but the bartender’s grin said that he had been most generous. Resources were not a problem for this young man- his paternal family had had an abundance before civilization dawned, on this world. Sarek had done nothing to deny him the birthright.

Spock – or Dragon, as he seemed to be known here, smiled at his companion as the bartender took up the money, and set about gathering materials. She stood up on her toes, her body pressing against his in a clinging manner – and, in that instant, Sarek recognized the girl from the strip club, the one with whom Spock had indulged in a sensual game. The kiss was lengthy, and both seemed left breathless and even more aglow in their desires, when it ended. “Dance with me, my Thistle,” the young man said, and then they were moving gracefully across the floor in the small central space between tables, although there was no music –

But there was. Sarek could hear it now – the music of Souldance, resonating through the air, accessible to anyone with telepathic sensitivities. And, amidst all the scents of decadent and dissolute humanity, there rose a new scent; the scent of Vulcan arousal pheremones – Vulcan, spiced with human. Spock’s hands, trembling slightly, curved to conform with the shape of the woman’s body, slipped down her back, to her hips, bringing her in close, pressing and molding her as their bodies swayed.

“All set,” said the bartender, indicating a tray upon which two bottles of green alcohol, two uniquely shaped goblets, and a small carafe. The young man known here as Dragon thanked the man graciously, and carried the tray to a table only three from Sarek. They didn’t look around them; their focus seemed to be on the tray, and a small flat container that the woman withdrew from her flowing cloak.

Their gazes met, and both smiled – Sarek, pretending to stare into his own glass, was fascinated with the way it transformed the young man’s face, made him sensual and far more human. He wore the expression most naturally, the emotion conveyed also in his eyes, as he opened the bottle and poured. A new scent rose to color the others; human seeds he recognized – anise and fennel, and other scents he didn’t know.

The young woman opened her case, revealing two ornate spoons – a dragon, and a thistle. The liquid was a vivid green, and Sarek was reminded of the dream. The woman withdrew several small wrapped cubes. “One, two, or three, my love?”

A brow tipped, and a slow smile spread. “I wish to indulge in all you have to offer, this day, my Thistle.”

“Then three.”

“Oh, my,” the woman breathed, exhibiting the same arousal signs Sarek knew so well in his own wife. “You’ll have me all hot and bothered before we even take our first dose, my sexy Dragon.”

“That is my intent, my Thistle.” He drew her near, and kissed her with depth and Vulcan thoroughness.

Sarek sipped at the drink; he did not care for the taste, but it was a means to an end. The young woman unwrapped the cubes, and Sarek’s nose caught the distinct, intoxicating smell of sugar, which the woman balanced on the spoons. She made an adjustment to the small carafe, and then the two of them passed it between them, fingers dancing together in an adapted ouz’hesta. They dripped water onto the sugars, which dissolved, and dripped through the spoons -

Sarek watched with covert fascination as the liquid turned the alcohol a translucent white, releasing a variety of scents, spiraling into the exact color he had seen in his dreams.

Enjoy stream-of consciousness writing? Anyone can play, so long as they are willing to follow a few simple rules. See you next week, for another live-streaming look into the lovely chaos in my mind! =)

Join in or read more SoCS posts here! 

OK, this just makes me chuckle…and there’s some truth in it, too!

SoCS : “Intoxication and Intimacy”

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme.

The idea is simple – post an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt -this week’s is in.

It’s November, and, for me, that means NaNoWriMo. For this month, I’ll be using the prompts to inspire passages of my novel-in-progress, The Earth Doth Move.

This week’s post is a little different. When I read the prompt, I realized that I’d just written a stream-of-consciousness passage that fit perfectly. A little warning – there are mild drug references in this passage, so, if you find those offensive, this might not be the post for you. I went where the story carried me.

I’ve got another 615 words, the beginning of a bonfire scene. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Spock, his family, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful even when I’m not logical!

Spock sat, watching the flow of humans bathed in the light of the fire, listening to the surging and falling of the waves, an unseen but deeply felt powerful force that tugged at him.

It was late, and the humans seemed to be clustering, now, in small groups – couples, and sometimes more. He longed for Mara, but she was on duty tonight, and couldn’t find anyone to switch.

“Hey, I heard you were here all by your lonesome. If you smile for me, I’ll share some of this, and maybe we can go for a walk along the beach.”

Spock had indulged in a pitcher of sangria, and his body was consumed in the flickering of the fire and the song of the waves, the light murmuring chatter of the others, some passing a variety of devices between them, to the potent smell of cannabis. He smiled, enjoying the way the firelight caught in her eyes and sent ever-varying shadows over her face…almost, he could feel T’Lys coming alive within him. “What is ‘this’ precisely?”

“Well, I heard a rumor you know about cannabis, and have enjoyed it more than once or twice. Is that true?”

“It is true, Darna. I find it -most agreeable.’

“Well, then, I think you’re going to love mine. I’ll let you in on a little secret, but you have to keep it to yourself, OK?”

“‘Tis in my memory locked, and you yourself shall keep the key of it.'”

“I didn’t know you knew Shakespeare. You are definitely the most – fascinating- Vulcan I’ve ever met.”

“You mentioned a secret, Darna.”

She flopped down next to him and reclined on his blanket,her head propped up on one elbow. “I grow it myself, back home. I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen or so, I guess. What I harvest- it’s parsecs better than anything else you’ll find in this town. But I don’t want people to know that. It’s my secret.”

“I will not tell.” She had a bag of a size that made it unlikely that it only held cannabis. “Have you something else to share with me this night, Darna?”

“Not here by the fire. This part’s not a secret; but I’ve only got enough for two, so maybe we could take a couple of torches and the blanket with us, and find a little spot a bit further up the beach. It’s the hour when that’s expected.”

“I had noticed that the number of people gathered around the fire is significantly reduced.” He rose, and dared to offer her his hand. She took it, and Spock focused on his breathing until he adjusted to the touch. Then he rolled the blanket, and they each took a burning stick from the fire – someone had seen that there were several of medium thickness, and, along the beach, little bits of firelight bobbed.

They didn’t speak as they walked, but, often, she pulled him in close, running her hands down his back to his hips, and he kissed her, with increasing fervor. It was clear in her mind- she desired him, and there would be no games, tonight, unless they were his. Her hunger was a pure hot flame within her, and Spock responded to that – with his own fiery passion, born upon the sands of Vulcan, and with that of T’Lys that was stretching and rousing within him.

They found a secluded space in the lea of a dune, where waving grasses provided an extra measure of intimacy and camouflage. “The tide’s coming in,” she said. “So we don’t want to get any closer to the shoreline – in case we’re too distracted to notice.”

 

Enjoy stream-of consciousness writing? Anyone can play, so long as they are willing to follow a few simple rules. See you next week, for another live-streaming look into the lovely chaos in my mind! =)

Join in or read more SoCS posts here!