In the silence at midnight

Posted on Wed 8th Apr, 2020 @ 11:16am by Maiek s'Ethien

797 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Maiek's Quarters

The dim lights of the sleeping chamber shone on the handsome face of Maiek, whose sleep was restless. Plagued with dreams, each more and more intimate until he awoke burning with a need that he could both not ignore and not act upon. The object of his desire was not yet ready for his full regard, and each day that passed made that regard more intense. He knew she wanted him, and he knew that he wanted her and yet her not being ready made him all the more focused on her. Romulans courtships were a dance of intregue and passionate interludes, much like what they were sharing. Maieks eyes opened, for the millisecond it took to ensure that it was still evening dark in his quarters before tucking his head back into the embrace of the pillow. Turning over in the bed, he settled down into a deeper sleep only to fall into dreams of his lady once again. This time, he watched her, and he could not reach out to touch her. A wall of glass separated the two, and try as he might he was trapped behind cursed only to watch and listen. Sitting bolt upright, he shook off sleep once more and gave up on the idea of finding any rest tonight. From his lips came a curse as sweat dripped from his brow to fall upon the pillow and sheets... Cheeks flushed brilliantly green as he panted, settling himself back into the heated sweaty bed.

Elements take him, this time she'd been with child. The perfection of that scene was so exquisite, that it hurt his belly to remember it. The one thing he wanted more than anything, and yet had never considered possible was now focus number one in his mind. She'd been...beautiful beyond compare. There weren't words adequate for describing it yet his lips formed the word 'ouye'. Moaning an expletive under his breath, he threw his arm over his eyes. How could he hope to comport himself as a gentleman when his dreams tormented him so. It wasn't bad enough that when he closed his eyes, she wrapped around him filling every moment with delight- no... now he had to see the future he'd not known he wanted in such stark clarity. Would he ever see her in the state he'd envisioned? Would she come to him? Allow him to touch her? Everything in him yearned for that day, that precise moment, especially now that he'd had her out on a date a time or two. She was as delightful in personality to him as she was physically appealing. It was not as if he had not briefly mentioned his intentions. Well no. He'd said that kissing her was only the beginning of his ulterior motives...and then he'd called her a'rhea. Beloved. She couldn't have known what the word meant, but he did and still he used it.

It had further inflamed him when he had kissed her. The gentlest press of lips upon hers, at the conclusion of their date. His fingertips remembered the warmth of her skin under them, and how she'd shivered with the contact. Her skin had been the most delightful shade of pink when he'd done so. He wished he was one with the ability to touch the feelings of others, so he could know.

"Okhala has cursed me. This inferno is akin to the hell humans speak of. These dreams are torture." Maiek spoke to the ceiling of his chambers, and he wondered if Mary Elizabeth found herself as stirred by him as he did by her. "I burn...and I will be consumed." A quiet few minutes passed while he slowly regulated his breathing. Heartrate finally returning to normal, he could finally think without the racing of his thoughts in a spiral towards the bedroom.

Sitting up, he drew his drawing table close to his bed, and caressed the crisp blank page. A fingerprint of oil bound to the page. A mark. His mark. The first line was stark and black as the artist began to sketch upon the first blank page. Over the course of the next hour, the image of Mary Elizabeth in that tender moment of repose began to take shape upon the stark white. Each stroke of his pencil and then the blending brush brought the picture to life. His adoration for her was clear in the delicate precision of the work. Other works, wrought of tender fingers decorated surfaces of the desk and littered the floor, some of Mary Elizabeth, some of his Mother, Sister, and Aunt Verelan. Some of them were articles of clothing, labeled with delicate romulan script. Perhaps...he should share them with her and speak of the future.

Perhaps.

 

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