115-USS ANUBIS: Mizore: Day 04 - 1354 [" It never happened. . . ? "]
Posted by Gwen Spellblade on Tuesday, September 16, 2014
" It never happened. . . ? "
[Previous Post "Dimensional Dilemma" ]
_____________
Setting: PI ALPHA III Underground
Stardate: 30148.1354
Alone, in perfect stillness, Mizore sat caged in her cell, among the surrounding senior officers. While not the most accommodating conditions, it was still far from disagreeable. Having thought to herself, that there were far worse places that she could think of, one of a more personal nature. Though she had not given it any more attention than a fleeting glance, instead turning toward Morningstar's suggestion of isolating a single memory, one moment in time, and fabricate some experience.
“Your thoughts are a turbulent ocean. Visualize yourself floating above them.” In hushed echo, Seska recanted words spoken to her by her Vulcan master and mentor Ka'len, where even her breathing slowed, as any sign of life became imperceptibly nonexistent.
Adapting false details, or even creating entire alternate memories was quite easy, and the ACMO had decided to take the Captain's advice to an extreme. Not only a solitary memory, instead changing an entire moment in her history, and shifting an entire experience in her lifetime into a strange sort or form of erratic montage of layer upon layer, tier by tier of deception.
"Officer Shar'El, you may want to focus on something, or at the very least, direct your attention away from me for the moment." A wry smile crossing her lips, though only CMO Doyanne or Counselor Dalziel would take any notice of it as it appeared for the briefest instant. Seconds turned to minutes, as time ebbed before her conscious thoughts had become loud enough to drown the surface thoughts from the Prophets.
Seska summoned the memory of Rika, as she called it to her mind, cold and stripped of life, her closest friend held in the embrace of her arms. However, decidedly not revealing any definitive details how such a situation had come to be. No sentiment was shown, no sign of any feeling given. Only the motionless form of her first real, good friend as Mizore had laid the form of the girl to rest on the hard packed dusty ground, still stained in pools of crimson and umber, more lining the scene of the skirmish.
A slow constant rumble of emanated from the away team's cavernous grotto prison, loosing dirt, stone, and debris around them. Most of the ACMO's attention had been concentrated on very specific memories, while she had carefully and skillfully combined lies with half truths, in attempt to not only stealthily manipulate what the Prophets had given her, but to confuse and mislead any who would read or rend her mind for thoughts. Occupied by the mental process, Mizore passed the time collectively gathering the scattered small stones at her feet as they had fallen from above, arranging them into formations of a makeshift or rough variant of the Vulcan game or test of logic, Kal'toh.
The Bajoran girl, only seventeen years of age, slowly extended her left hand toward Rika, where it floated in the air like dancing leaves, lingering aloft on gentle winds. When and where her fingers softly came to rest on her friend's right ear, her voice was given breath, and her breath gave way to words so quietly spoken it was difficult to know for certain exactly what was said.
"Ahn kay ya, ay ya vas, Coh mah ra di nay ya."
She spoke the words in her thought from memory, as they echoed through the distance. Her voice uttering to the words that fell from her lips, from mental illusions across the barrier or breach in to the realm of reality.
Whenever Seska had removed a piece of the stone, casually tossing with a flick of motion at the geological pillars that formed the bars lining her cell, the bioluminescent light whirled and swirled like some small scaled version of an aurora. Noting the behavior of the illuminations, simple or base organic matter as well as metallic elements caused the patterns to stay or remain passive, inactive. The energies only reacted to complex matter or synthetic compounds such as lifeforms or tech, causing sparks or shimmers.
When the last sounds had died down and all was almost silent, as soon as everything had once again become a hushed din, Rika stirred before Seska, spread in front her, Rika came to rouse and rise. Trading the pale chill of one no more for the world for the sanguine glow of life returned bring renewed vitality and virility. The fiery red headed girl with freckles and dark brown eyes, only just older than Seska herself, no longer or no more for the throes of the unliving or passing to an afterlife.
Inherently entranced, interested in the phenomena, curious, Mizore's vision started to take a slight haze, everything she could see became just slightly blurred as if observed through a gauss filter. Color became brighter, more vivid or vibrant, as shadows and darkness were muted or dull. Her twin shaded eyes panned and dilated, becoming unfocused, as she had started to see beyond color, light and dark. Her depth perception seemed chaotic, or rendered irrelevant. When Seska cautiously leaned in moving her face gradually toward the strange sights of the spectral dim glowing aura around the bars. When she had reach a distance of approximately one meter, the sharp current shocked through the air, spanning the distance as it arced in a single hard line toward her and recoiled, stinging the the surface of her face as it lightly burned, singeing the skin, momentarily stunning her vision, temporarily blinding the Bajoran with cascading flashes of bright blue, pure white, and deep purple light.
Her mind began to flood, turning thought in to a tempestuous maelstrom of memory. Two individual beings stood apart, facing the other, surrounded amidst a scape dark as pitch and black as night. Mizore, adorned in the traditional Vulcan robes customarily associated with a master of the art of 'Ke tarya yatar'. Across in opposed position was her teacher, Ka'len. Equidistantly lying between them, a solitary flame lit lantern was the only source of light providing little in the way of illumination. Ka'len recanted the words appropriate to the situation. . .
“The flame, like emotion, is a primitive force. Left unchecked, it is chaotic and destructive, but if controlled, it can be a powerful tool. The lamp controls the flame, as you must learn to control your emotions. Envision the flame burning within you. The flame grows hotter, a point of white light. Follow it backward through the years to a time when you were younger. . . A child. . . Your earliest memories. Try to recall a time when you experienced uncontrollable anger. Then your anger was a source of strength, it protected you and gave you courage. The rage within you runs deep and has been with you for many years. You must learn to master it.”
It was these very same exact words that Seska recited in whispers in the quiet.
As the Vulcan male spoke to her, his voice containing a lifetime of wisdom, knowledge, insight, and experience of his age, always drawing nearer. With each step, she followed in kind, mimicking his every move, only stopping when he did. "There is nothing more, nothing left I can show you, young woman, Seska. I have taught you all I know, trained you in every way. There is only one thing you must do, and you will do it. You have to finish what we started when I accepted you, taken you, chose you as my apprentice."
The reactionary effect the ACMO had received from the latent bolt had frightened her to her very center, where she shoved herself away, slamming her back against the far wall with her hands over her face. Shivering from the residual charge as it coursed from her head down her spine then through her hands to the tips of her fingers.
The ordinarily normal look to Ka'len's eyes had changed to reflect the seriousness of his sincerity. The dance had already begun before he had even finished his words. Every step to circle her was calculated, while Seska herself countered and mirrored his every move or motion. Ka'len was the first to draw blood, counting for his many, long years of experience in Vulcan customs and rituals. A crimson line forming from the corner of her lips, turning small spots on the blackened floor a dark crimson. It was another three swift series of exchanges before she finally connected. Proving to herself as well as Ka'len, that she was worthy, not to be underestimated or taken lightly. The Vulcan coughed harshly, yielding up green blood only to be spat to the floor.
"By the Prophets, for Kai's sake. . . Why is this happening to me today. . . ?" Seska managing to curse and swear on her misfortune or inauspicious luck, while she whimpered under muted breath.
The conflict or confrontation went on, a constant fight for dominance in a test of wits. Where one gave ground, the other advanced. Where one retreated, the other would pursue. Where one lead, the other followed. The floor tainted, and slick with sweat and blood, creating a bizarre mosaic cast in emerald green, bright scarlet, or the color of earth where they mixed, upon which now seemed like hallowed ground of an arena. The soft sound of foot falls and steps where they each tread.
Ka'len moved forward, balancing the entirety of his weight away from her, the Vulcan slid toward her covering his body with his left arm and hand. Then, appearing in her counterparts eyes, was the fatal flaw or error of his mistake. He had projected and telegraphed his tactics, which she noted, interpreted, and anticipated. When he feinted toward her left side, preceding the attack of a flurry of blows to her right, she had moved to aside, pushed in toward him as her left hand gripped soft area between his neck and shoulder, rolling her own weight, applied significantly substantial pressure, as she had come to stand behind only just off to his left. This was it, there was no turning back, it was over, and all the man, Ka'len, could do, was accept it, expect it. An uneasy nod was all he gave, which was something Mizore had not often seen.
"You have become more than I imagined, young lady, Seska. To have successfully learned and executed such a maneuver." Knowing that there was nothing anyone could do now that would change his fate, only turned ever slowly to face her, pressing the fingers of his hand to press against Seska's head. "This, is the last thing I have left, the only thing I can offer to you or give. It is yours now. Keep it with you." Her own eyes had fixated with his, as she could only understand his actions, that he had given her his katra, or in her native tongue, his pagh. She too, knew what she had just done, what she had committed by the act of performing such a move. Soon as she released the pressure, Ka'len fell to the floor, there was only silence as her eyes had still followed him.
_____________
Gwen Spellblade
Ensign Mizore Seska
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS ANUBIS
[Previous Post "Dimensional Dilemma" ]
_____________
Setting: PI ALPHA III Underground
Stardate: 30148.1354
Alone, in perfect stillness, Mizore sat caged in her cell, among the surrounding senior officers. While not the most accommodating conditions, it was still far from disagreeable. Having thought to herself, that there were far worse places that she could think of, one of a more personal nature. Though she had not given it any more attention than a fleeting glance, instead turning toward Morningstar's suggestion of isolating a single memory, one moment in time, and fabricate some experience.
“Your thoughts are a turbulent ocean. Visualize yourself floating above them.” In hushed echo, Seska recanted words spoken to her by her Vulcan master and mentor Ka'len, where even her breathing slowed, as any sign of life became imperceptibly nonexistent.
Adapting false details, or even creating entire alternate memories was quite easy, and the ACMO had decided to take the Captain's advice to an extreme. Not only a solitary memory, instead changing an entire moment in her history, and shifting an entire experience in her lifetime into a strange sort or form of erratic montage of layer upon layer, tier by tier of deception.
"Officer Shar'El, you may want to focus on something, or at the very least, direct your attention away from me for the moment." A wry smile crossing her lips, though only CMO Doyanne or Counselor Dalziel would take any notice of it as it appeared for the briefest instant. Seconds turned to minutes, as time ebbed before her conscious thoughts had become loud enough to drown the surface thoughts from the Prophets.
Seska summoned the memory of Rika, as she called it to her mind, cold and stripped of life, her closest friend held in the embrace of her arms. However, decidedly not revealing any definitive details how such a situation had come to be. No sentiment was shown, no sign of any feeling given. Only the motionless form of her first real, good friend as Mizore had laid the form of the girl to rest on the hard packed dusty ground, still stained in pools of crimson and umber, more lining the scene of the skirmish.
A slow constant rumble of emanated from the away team's cavernous grotto prison, loosing dirt, stone, and debris around them. Most of the ACMO's attention had been concentrated on very specific memories, while she had carefully and skillfully combined lies with half truths, in attempt to not only stealthily manipulate what the Prophets had given her, but to confuse and mislead any who would read or rend her mind for thoughts. Occupied by the mental process, Mizore passed the time collectively gathering the scattered small stones at her feet as they had fallen from above, arranging them into formations of a makeshift or rough variant of the Vulcan game or test of logic, Kal'toh.
The Bajoran girl, only seventeen years of age, slowly extended her left hand toward Rika, where it floated in the air like dancing leaves, lingering aloft on gentle winds. When and where her fingers softly came to rest on her friend's right ear, her voice was given breath, and her breath gave way to words so quietly spoken it was difficult to know for certain exactly what was said.
"Ahn kay ya, ay ya vas, Coh mah ra di nay ya."
She spoke the words in her thought from memory, as they echoed through the distance. Her voice uttering to the words that fell from her lips, from mental illusions across the barrier or breach in to the realm of reality.
Whenever Seska had removed a piece of the stone, casually tossing with a flick of motion at the geological pillars that formed the bars lining her cell, the bioluminescent light whirled and swirled like some small scaled version of an aurora. Noting the behavior of the illuminations, simple or base organic matter as well as metallic elements caused the patterns to stay or remain passive, inactive. The energies only reacted to complex matter or synthetic compounds such as lifeforms or tech, causing sparks or shimmers.
When the last sounds had died down and all was almost silent, as soon as everything had once again become a hushed din, Rika stirred before Seska, spread in front her, Rika came to rouse and rise. Trading the pale chill of one no more for the world for the sanguine glow of life returned bring renewed vitality and virility. The fiery red headed girl with freckles and dark brown eyes, only just older than Seska herself, no longer or no more for the throes of the unliving or passing to an afterlife.
Inherently entranced, interested in the phenomena, curious, Mizore's vision started to take a slight haze, everything she could see became just slightly blurred as if observed through a gauss filter. Color became brighter, more vivid or vibrant, as shadows and darkness were muted or dull. Her twin shaded eyes panned and dilated, becoming unfocused, as she had started to see beyond color, light and dark. Her depth perception seemed chaotic, or rendered irrelevant. When Seska cautiously leaned in moving her face gradually toward the strange sights of the spectral dim glowing aura around the bars. When she had reach a distance of approximately one meter, the sharp current shocked through the air, spanning the distance as it arced in a single hard line toward her and recoiled, stinging the the surface of her face as it lightly burned, singeing the skin, momentarily stunning her vision, temporarily blinding the Bajoran with cascading flashes of bright blue, pure white, and deep purple light.
Her mind began to flood, turning thought in to a tempestuous maelstrom of memory. Two individual beings stood apart, facing the other, surrounded amidst a scape dark as pitch and black as night. Mizore, adorned in the traditional Vulcan robes customarily associated with a master of the art of 'Ke tarya yatar'. Across in opposed position was her teacher, Ka'len. Equidistantly lying between them, a solitary flame lit lantern was the only source of light providing little in the way of illumination. Ka'len recanted the words appropriate to the situation. . .
“The flame, like emotion, is a primitive force. Left unchecked, it is chaotic and destructive, but if controlled, it can be a powerful tool. The lamp controls the flame, as you must learn to control your emotions. Envision the flame burning within you. The flame grows hotter, a point of white light. Follow it backward through the years to a time when you were younger. . . A child. . . Your earliest memories. Try to recall a time when you experienced uncontrollable anger. Then your anger was a source of strength, it protected you and gave you courage. The rage within you runs deep and has been with you for many years. You must learn to master it.”
It was these very same exact words that Seska recited in whispers in the quiet.
As the Vulcan male spoke to her, his voice containing a lifetime of wisdom, knowledge, insight, and experience of his age, always drawing nearer. With each step, she followed in kind, mimicking his every move, only stopping when he did. "There is nothing more, nothing left I can show you, young woman, Seska. I have taught you all I know, trained you in every way. There is only one thing you must do, and you will do it. You have to finish what we started when I accepted you, taken you, chose you as my apprentice."
The reactionary effect the ACMO had received from the latent bolt had frightened her to her very center, where she shoved herself away, slamming her back against the far wall with her hands over her face. Shivering from the residual charge as it coursed from her head down her spine then through her hands to the tips of her fingers.
The ordinarily normal look to Ka'len's eyes had changed to reflect the seriousness of his sincerity. The dance had already begun before he had even finished his words. Every step to circle her was calculated, while Seska herself countered and mirrored his every move or motion. Ka'len was the first to draw blood, counting for his many, long years of experience in Vulcan customs and rituals. A crimson line forming from the corner of her lips, turning small spots on the blackened floor a dark crimson. It was another three swift series of exchanges before she finally connected. Proving to herself as well as Ka'len, that she was worthy, not to be underestimated or taken lightly. The Vulcan coughed harshly, yielding up green blood only to be spat to the floor.
"By the Prophets, for Kai's sake. . . Why is this happening to me today. . . ?" Seska managing to curse and swear on her misfortune or inauspicious luck, while she whimpered under muted breath.
The conflict or confrontation went on, a constant fight for dominance in a test of wits. Where one gave ground, the other advanced. Where one retreated, the other would pursue. Where one lead, the other followed. The floor tainted, and slick with sweat and blood, creating a bizarre mosaic cast in emerald green, bright scarlet, or the color of earth where they mixed, upon which now seemed like hallowed ground of an arena. The soft sound of foot falls and steps where they each tread.
Ka'len moved forward, balancing the entirety of his weight away from her, the Vulcan slid toward her covering his body with his left arm and hand. Then, appearing in her counterparts eyes, was the fatal flaw or error of his mistake. He had projected and telegraphed his tactics, which she noted, interpreted, and anticipated. When he feinted toward her left side, preceding the attack of a flurry of blows to her right, she had moved to aside, pushed in toward him as her left hand gripped soft area between his neck and shoulder, rolling her own weight, applied significantly substantial pressure, as she had come to stand behind only just off to his left. This was it, there was no turning back, it was over, and all the man, Ka'len, could do, was accept it, expect it. An uneasy nod was all he gave, which was something Mizore had not often seen.
"You have become more than I imagined, young lady, Seska. To have successfully learned and executed such a maneuver." Knowing that there was nothing anyone could do now that would change his fate, only turned ever slowly to face her, pressing the fingers of his hand to press against Seska's head. "This, is the last thing I have left, the only thing I can offer to you or give. It is yours now. Keep it with you." Her own eyes had fixated with his, as she could only understand his actions, that he had given her his katra, or in her native tongue, his pagh. She too, knew what she had just done, what she had committed by the act of performing such a move. Soon as she released the pressure, Ka'len fell to the floor, there was only silence as her eyes had still followed him.
_____________
Gwen Spellblade
Ensign Mizore Seska
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS ANUBIS
Tags: mizore anubis
