Nevasa Storyline III - Sakarra Tyrax

"Nevasa" Part III

[Institute of Defensive Arts, Gol province, Vulcan]

“You still have a tendency to overcompensate, Sakarra-kam” Sovar stated levelly.

“Indeed I do “ the young woman looked at Nevasa reaching her zenith before they entered the relative cool of one of the Institute’s armories.

She carefully placed the sword back on its stand and turned to her friend “However, the challenge was whether I could prevent you from breaching my defenses. Since that is clearly the case, I submit that your overall assessment was incorrect.”

“So it seems” there was that humor twinkling in the dark eyes again, and as usual it caught Sakarra off balance. To be teased by a Vulcan was bad enough, with Sovar you never even could know for certain if your senses had not played a trick on you. She studied the calm, impassive face in the armory’s twilight and decided, yes, he’d done it again.

By implying that her skills still may need improvement (which of course was true in any case) he had provoked her into giving nothing but her best. And then some, blast him.

But she noted with no small amount of satisfaction that this time she was not the only one walking away from the exercise with a slightly ruffled appearance. At least the collection of sprains and bruises she had amassed over the past years had amounted for something.

“Meet you in the courtyard in thirty minutes?”

Sovar gave a graceful nod and walked off, while Sakarra shook her head in what could safely be called mildly amused irritation. For a long time she used to think that this one deliberately tried to provoke her, in fact went out of his way to annoy her. By now she had arrived at the conclusion that he might actually be showing affection by simply being himself. His annoying self, but once you looked past that he was actually ... almost likeable. Almost.

Chuckling silently, the young woman made her way to the small room she called her own to get cleaned up and slip into a comfortable robe.

The two young people were greeted by residents and merchants as they made their way through the ancient streets of Xen’tal. The tall Vulcan in the robes of V’Shar was well known to most of them, as was the curly-haired young woman accompanying him. Stone arcades matching the golden color of the houses provided shade for the few people out to brave Nevasa’s midday heat and the soft murmuring of voices indicated where most of those who did not prefer the solitude of their own quarters had sought refuge.

Sakarra confidently steered towards the restaurant gardens next to the old Inn, but a small gesture from Sovar made her stop. She tilted her head questioningly and he indicated one of the shops lining the street. Sakarra recognized it as the one owned by T'Shonra, a weapons smith of unusual talent and one of the few still able to craft traditional swords in the ancient style. And, as it happened, yet another not so distant relative.

Sometimes the young woman felt as if half of the Vulcans at the Science Academy and at least a third of those in Vulcana Regar and Xen’tal were related to her in some way or another, but logically those calculations would never stand up to scrutiny. Even if her entire House were to reside in either Raal or Shi’al province, they would merely make up a small fraction of the population. Still, they would easily overrun at least this tiny village.

For a few seconds Sakarra almost grinned, imagining the quiet streets filled with a few thousand Vulcans trying to move somewhere while still being impeccably polite. She could almost hear the indignant rustling of robes and the sound of dignified irritation in the shuffling of countless feet.

Picking up Sakarra’s amusement, Sovar briefly raised a brow and then gestured for her to walk ahead. ‘So we’re strictly following protocol now’ the young woman thought slightly bemused before she entered the small but elegantly furnished shop. Sovar usually was not one to observe these ancient traditions to the letter… when she saw the tall woman with the regal bearing standing behind a large and intricately carved sword stand, Sakarra almost smiled again. This one certainly looked as if she might take offense at a breach of protocol.

Raising her hand in salute, she went with her instinct and therefore into full formal mode “Sakarra Cha T’Sora. T'nar pak sorat y'rani.”

The woman nodded approvingly. “T’Shonra Cha T’Pau. T'nar jaral.”

The sound of Sovar exhaling softly behind her almost ruined Sakarra’s composure - he had obviously feared she might commit some kind of fauxpas and now radiated relief. The thought of ever calm Sovar actually holding his breath as he trailed behind his unpredictable young relative was enough to make her grin inwardly and she was rather proud of herself for displaying nothing but stoic dignity. At least if one didn’t look TOO close.

However, T’Shonra seemed satisfied and motioned Sakarra to step forward after briefly acknowledging Sovar’s presence. The older woman gave Sakarra an appraising look that caused her to tilt her head in mild puzzlement and then selected a sword from the several dozen displayed on the shop’s walls. “Thee are smaller than Sovar described. Is it that his logic in evaluating your size was in abeyance or merely his description poor?”

Sakarra took the offered weapon with a smooth movement stemming from lots of practice and pondered her response. “Maybe it is neither. Have you considered the possibility that I am not as small as I appear?”

“Hm” T’Shonra gave what positively qualified as a Vulcan huff - or was it actually a smirk? - and the young woman could feel Sovar shifting uncomfortably behind her. Well, if anyone was going to talk that way about him it would be her, no one else. Sakarra felt quite entitled to complain about Sovar in no uncertain terms, but for some reason T’Shonra’s remark had ruffled her feathers. Might as well make that clear here and now and if the elder lady took it as impolite, then so be it.

She seemed unperturbed, however, and simply selected another sword.

“Indeed I have. Now thee should consider the possibility that an artist wishes to test a theory.”

Sakarra raised a brow in mild surprise but gave a respectful nod before accepting the other sword. It was slightly longer and heavier but she immediately recognized how perfectly balanced it was and how nicely it complemented her stature.

“Nunau ish-veh” T’Shonra nodded, her expression as satisfied as that of a Le-Matya after the kill. Sakarra got the distinct impression that it would be unwise to cross this woman but for some reason she didn’t feel even slightly intimidated.

Fascinating.

She handed the sword back and T’Shonra placed it on the stand before walking over to a small table. Motioning to Sovar, whom she’d pointedly ignored until now, she picked up a small item wrapped in velvet and held it out to the young man. “Give my greetings to your foremother. Mene sakkhet ur-seveh, Sovar.”

He gave his most graceful bow and Sakarra correctly assumed that they were dismissed. Offering another salute, she answered for both of them “Sochya eh dif, T‘Shonra”

“Peace and long life, daughter of T’Sora” with this, the elder Vulcan lady turned and left for what Sakarra assumed were her living quarters behind the shop. She was still not quite sure what all this had been about but her stomach was now rather vehemently insisting on lunch and so she strode past Sovar, who had been waiting for her to precede him yet again.

The streets were completely empty now and Sakarra looked up at her mentor and friend, fighting the urge to tease him about his extremely proper behavior “Any more surprises or can we go eat now?”

“I am certain our table is still waiting. After you, my lady.”

One of these days she would smack him behind the ear. He had it coming…

"Nevasa" Part IV

[Village of Xen‘tal, Gol province, Vulcan]

T’Mya immediately recognized the two young Vulcans walking into her mother’s restaurant garden. Few people had to actually duck when walking through the stone arch overgrown with hardy, red-leaved vines, but this dark haired one with the eyes of a hunting Shavokh and the feline movements was one of them. It looked almost like a dance, the way he half bowed, half ducked, part turned, to let the young female in the sand colored robes walk ahead of him.

As usual, T’Mya was intrigued by this one’s appearance - to the casual observer, she was merely another young Vulcan with somewhat softer features than most, and the curls that one could see despite the tightly braided chignon were exotic, but not entirely unusual.

Only if one looked closer, at the eyes that were just a little too dark and the woman’s movements, which always seemed a little too carefully measured, did one realize she was of mixed heritage.

She filled two glasses with fresh, cold water and followed the two to their usual table. After they’d settled down, she put the glasses in front of them and offered the friendly greeting reserved for the better known guests of the old Inn. “Tonk’peh. What may I serve you today?”

Still alternating between puzzlement, curiosity and mild annoyance, Sakarra was grateful for the soothing effect of the garden. She allowed Sovar to continue with his ridiculously formal behavior and strode ahead of him with the demeanor of miffed royalty. Sitting down in the elegant chair that looked more like a work of art than part of a seating arrangement, she indicated the place opposite her with a small wave of her hand. After performing another flawlessly elegant half-bow Sovar sat down, but Sakarra had already decided to leave him to his antics and returned T’Mya’s greeting with a friendly nod “Tonk’peh va’ashiv, T’Mya. The ploomek, please.”

Pointedly ignoring the mischief that sparkled in Sovar’s dark eyes even as he indicated to the young Vulcan woman to bring him the same, Sakarra let her gaze wander over her surroundings. Although by now she was familiar with every plant, stone and grain of sand here, she never grew tired of appreciating the harmony of it all. Like with most Vulcan architecture, sharp angles of any kind were in short supply and the walls surrounding the garden were just high enough to provide shade without obstructing anyone’s view of the sky. Or rather, patches of sky.

Graceful stone arches which seemed almost too thin to support their own weight were covered with the same vines that greeted the visitor at the entrance, providing a mesmerizing pattern of light and shade on every surface. The cheerfully bubbling fountain in the center was surrounded by sturdy desert grass and tiny, delicate flowers, adding the sweet scent of cold water and spicy blossoms to the clean desert air and the most compelling aromas from the Inn’s kitchen.

Steepling her fingers under her chin, Sakarra looked back towards Sovar, whose sharp features were somewhat softened by the filtered light, but who in his dark robes more than ever seemed like some rogue disreputable character impersonating a respectable Vulcan. The amusing thought together with the serenity of this place made the young woman’s good humor return and so she merely raised a brow when he placed the mysterious small velvet bag in front of her.

“So, more surprises after all” she said levelly, tracing the black fabric with her fingers under Sovar’s watchful gaze. She considered tantalizing him just a little and took a sip of the refreshingly cold water, ignoring both the bag and his expectant look.

But she had to admit, she was touched. Although random gifts within the family were nothing unusual - what could be more logical than showing appreciation with small gestures that one knew would be met with approval - Sakarra had not thought Sovar to be one for displaying such sentiment. At least not directly and moreover, in public.

T’Mya returned and set two deep stone bowls with steaming hot soup in front of them before retreating again. Her glance at both the young people and the item on the table had been brief enough to not be intrusive and therefore could be politely ignored. Still, Sakarra had a fairly good idea what might be going through T’Mya’s mind right now and certainly, so did Sovar.

Shaking her head slowly, she finally picked up the soft fabric and was mildly surprised by the weight of whatever it contained “You DO enjoy skirting the edges of scandalous behavior, no?”

“I am not certain I know what you mean” he said, his hands folded in front of him as he waited for her to proceed.

"He'elef ka hij" her face was unreadable, but through the resonance of their telepathic bond he could sense she was teasing him. The undercurrent of warmth and understanding he had picked up from her before, although rarely directed towards him in such clarity, made Sovar blink for a moment.

Finally, she opened the bag and he noticed with near un-Vulcan glee how her eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of the content.

“Now, just how did you come by Versina?” she held the bracelet into the light, appreciating the beauty of the intricate details. Vulcan gold and Betazoid crystals in marvelous harmony, the design making elements of both cultures flow into one another so effortlessly one hardly noticed the difference.

“I recently had the opportunity to visit Betazed, however briefly. A most enlightening experience” he gently took the bracelet from her unresisting hand and set about fastening it around her wrist.

“I should think so” her dark eyes were now sparkling with an intensity even the crystals couldn’t match and Sovar once again noticed how infectious her barely contained humor was to him. He would most certainly have to gain better control over himself in this matter - in addition to some other irregularities. Like how she repeatedly seemed to make him behave in rather unusual fashion, evidently without even noticing. Fascinating.

“Which reminds me - “ her low, resonant voice interrupted his train of thought and he looked up at Sakarra with a tilted head “exactly where were you these past few weeks?”

“Starfleet had requested a decryption specialist” he answered levelly, picking up his ploomek and inhaling the spicy scent. “Hm” Sakarra favored him with an amusedly raised brow that clearly spelled ‘pull the other one, dear’. But she matched his equanimity without missing a beat “And they most certainly had a logical reason to ship said specialist across the quadrant instead of sending the material to be decrypted to Vulcan”

She redirected her attention towards the food as well, lest the smile in her eyes got a chance to reach her lips.

“Indeed” his look might have sent someone who didn’t know Sovar as well as Sakarra did run for the hills. At astonishing speed.

“I always suspected you were an especially skilled ... decryption specialist.”

She decided to drop the matter before his eyebrows had a chance to climb above his hairline.

“Would you mind to switch our exercise to Lirpas this afternoon? I appear to have a similar tendency to overcompensate.”

Putting down the stone bowl, Sovar studied the young woman’s face for any signs of more mischief, but to no avail. Still, he knew that timbre of her voice too well. She was up to something. Again.

“At your service as always, my lady”

He neither flinched nor ducked, and the ploomek soup including bowl did indeed not come flying towards him. Random chance had operated in his favor. This time.