[[BACKPOST]]: Orca

Posted on 24 Dec 2012 @ 5:42pm by
Edited on 26 Dec 2012 @ 9:16am

1,301 words; about a 7 minute read

MOUSE OVER other words for translations!

ON:

[[2389: KA'VEYA FACILITY - CIDATEL, MIRI'KAHR CITY, VULCAN]]

The heavy metal doors of the citadel burst open, a clanging boom resounding through the stone halls. What little staff remain quickly disperse, like frightened birds. Out of sight, out of mind. No one desires to confront the anger of the man storming past, footfalls heavy. It isn't logical. It isn't their Way.

Behind the first figure, another follows, steps hurried, shouting agitatedly. "Yhllr'aen," he mutters. "Damn - Liyar! Stop!" Beside Faevren is T'Maile and Severen, walking quickly after their charge. It is not an ideal way for him to find out, on the edge of some news feed while he's barely conscious, but they'll have to deal with it now.

A second set of doors opens, no less harsh, to reveal the bleeding Miri'kahr city skyline, cut with heavy mountains rumbling in the distance. It is an adequate simile of the turmoil within him. Liyar stands before the balcony, struggling for Control. His features are so far out of the realm of placid it looks twisted, macabre. He is enraged. He is uncaring.

Taller than the three who step quickly behind him, he whirls on them all, a crackling, lightning fury lancing through the familial bonds. "You have deceived me." The words are dangerous, punctuated as he points a finger at them. The other hand at his side is in a fist.

"Kroykah." The woman's tone is low, baleful. Her son doesn't avert his eyes, but falls still. "Liyar. You speak without reason. There was no deception. You have known her to be gone. They are gone." Her words bring with them sharp reality.

He can feel her, in his head. This Other. This imposter. Liyar raises a hand vaguely to his temple, as if he can find the wretched cord and rip it out of his skull. It is disgraceful. "Why did you leave them in Andorian space!" he barks, madly. "You sent no one. You -"

Severen steps forward, hands held out universally in peace. "There were teams sent, Liyar. They found nothing. The vessel was obliterated."

"You held the rites without me!"

Liyar advances forward, fist poised to strike. Severen grips his forearm and belays the attack easily. Liyar is still dressed in the white, thin hospital robes given to every Ka'veya patient. He is malnourished, and weak. Shaking. His hands and arms are lashed with green marks, as if he's clawed at them unconsciously.

Faevren rustles something at his side, a hypospray, but Liyar only speaks. "Get her out." Liyar points at his temple again.

"Enrail's mind is necessary to you. To your mind," Faevren asserts.

"She is an abomination. I will have no part of it."

T'Maile interjects. "We held nothing without you. It was deliberated by the Council. We could not delay. Her family deserve peace."

"You are liars and cowards. You have no honor. Poisoner of wells!" he casts the invective so absurdly that none of them blink. "You disgrace everything we stand for. Raek was not theirs. She was not theirs! She was -" Mine. He looks like a fish out of water, and shuts his mouth, biting back another torrent of disgust. "It was my right. It was mine alone. They -" He takes a sudden breath, feeling faint.

Severen moves to his side, places his hand on Liyar's shoulder, another against his jaw. "None of this was done to slight you, Liyar." His eyes are knowing. He wonders what he might become were similar to occur to T'Maile. He banishes the thought.

"You have denied me -"

Liyar stares down at him, and resembles for an instant the child he once knew. Liyar can almost understand, almost, what drove Severen those years ago to rage, to combat. "Control, Liyar. There are reasons for our ways." Now, he's far removed from that person. His face is one of peace, born of many years of learning.

Finally, the younger averts his gaze, staring at a point low on the opposite wall. "They took the only thing left. There is nothing left."

"The sun will yet rise another day, Liyar. They have established a marker zone near the outer limits of the city. We will travel there later during the ten-day."

A marker. A marker, to replace all that they were, all that was lost. Liyar wants to scream. His response is quiet. "Leave me." He doesn't break away from the hold, just closes his eyes, as if he can block it all out. "Leave me be. You mock everything." It's starting again. One feeling leads into another. And then another, until they spiral into blackened, shriveled hatred. Surely they must know what it means, surely they must know, after P'Jem!

Severen interrupts his thoughts again. "Kaiidth. You cannot wither here. Nothing will bring them back, my son."

Something in Liyar's posture breaks, and he looks defeated, given away only by the slump of his shoulders. "How do we go on?" he asks, because he can't fathom that somehow, all those thousands of years ago, they manage to turn all of their black Rage into subdued pacifism. Not with this.

"You go on," Faevren filled in the void. A simple answer for a complicated question. "Just like we do." The Romulan's eyes are impossibly dark meeting Liyar's, and the Vulcan bows his head slightly, in silent understanding. "You follow the path of nature. This is your Way, Liyar. You are not unique. You must transcend this. You can't give in to your impulses. They won't do you good, here."

As if in reminder, Liyar's arm twitches in Severen's hold, vibrating with an energy purely to be exerted by pounding his fist into something.

All he wants more than anything else is to kill, a desire embedded in him during his pon farr, when he watched them fall by phaser fire. He wanted nothing more than to burst from the hazy mind fog and rip out the Andorian's throat with his fingernails. He can't submerge it fully. He wants to seek them out. Eliminate them all. Lay waste to their lands, their House, their spirit, until they are wiped out of existence. Until they regret the day they ever heard the name Niram. It is in the dark, bleeding core of him.

Drip. Drip. Dripping until it builds a river of death inside of him, threatening to break out and cast itself over everyone in his vicinity. Until he is surrounded by broken, littered bodies. Illogical. Control, the Rational area in his mind asserts. What is he going to do, conjure them out of thin air? Severen's expression only tells him it isn't a secret. Liyar inclines his head minutely, forcibly relaxing his stance.

"Come. It is mid-morning," T'Maile says after several moments of silence between them. As if she isn't aware of the turn of thought in her son. She rests her hand on Liyar's other shoulder and gestures toward the doors leading back inside. "Faevren informs us that you have not taken the meal in many days. It is irrational to postpone your recovery in this way, Liyarkam." He looks as if about to protest, but she halts him with a single uplifted, bony finger. "It will be done."

OFF:

T'Maile
Severen
Liyar
Faevren

RSS Feed