fic? holy *crud* no way!
Jul. 26th, 2007 06:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chanter1944My muse or, at least one of them, has finally decided to reappear, if a bit reluctantly. Figures it'd be this particular traitorous twin of mine, huh? Forgive me if it's a little less than standard for me, I'm a bit rusty yet.
Title: Out of Control
Author: Chanter
Series: TOS, post the Undiscovered Country
Characters/pairings: Valeris/Cartright if you squint
Rating: PG13 for references to canon mental violation
Summary: In the wake of the peace conference, Valeris lives day to day as best she can.
326 words
They aren’t going to prosecute.
They aren’t-weren’t-won’t-haven’t yet, and her hair stays black, and her fingerprints go unaltered, and try as she might no amount of icy logic is enough to drive the mental impressions of a second set from her skin. They aren’t going-
She’s determined, always has been determined, always will be and some things don’t change with failure. Even when she’s drifting, not aimless; calculated, if subconsciously and brought out with the the one in every two meditations not interrupted by his frozen face, she has a method, has a plan. They aren’t going-
She’s logical, was-is-ever has been-always will be in her own unique way, and if her control is less than the average Vulcan’s, she’ll handle the disparity and does, handles it with her particular brand of peculiar grace. Control is what she’d needed, that night but then again, control is what enabled him. So she’ll keep hers, in her way. It’s a fair compromise. And they aren’t-
She knows it’s irrational, absurd, laughably emotional to feel imprints in flesh where there are none, to imagine the relentless pressure of pads and nails and mind at unexpected moments, to tilt her head into a brimming basin and submerge in icy water and desperately subliminate fire and chill, flame and void and still, sickeningly, feel. But control is what he had, and control is what she’d lacked. And in the end, if she’s lacking her torturer-mentor-predecessor’s tool of trade, then her own shortcoming is, at least, something she can live with. And they aren’t going-
Her teacher is buried alive and the truest criminal of them all walks free, commended and she, solitary, avoids it all. And they aren’t going to-
And sometimes, most times, avoidance is the worst punishment possible.
And they aren’t going to prosecute.
Valeris is typical enough to keep her admissions to herself. She’s also atypical enough to admit privately that half the time, she wishes they would.
Title: Out of Control
Author: Chanter
Series: TOS, post the Undiscovered Country
Characters/pairings: Valeris/Cartright if you squint
Rating: PG13 for references to canon mental violation
Summary: In the wake of the peace conference, Valeris lives day to day as best she can.
326 words
They aren’t going to prosecute.
They aren’t-weren’t-won’t-haven’t yet, and her hair stays black, and her fingerprints go unaltered, and try as she might no amount of icy logic is enough to drive the mental impressions of a second set from her skin. They aren’t going-
She’s determined, always has been determined, always will be and some things don’t change with failure. Even when she’s drifting, not aimless; calculated, if subconsciously and brought out with the the one in every two meditations not interrupted by his frozen face, she has a method, has a plan. They aren’t going-
She’s logical, was-is-ever has been-always will be in her own unique way, and if her control is less than the average Vulcan’s, she’ll handle the disparity and does, handles it with her particular brand of peculiar grace. Control is what she’d needed, that night but then again, control is what enabled him. So she’ll keep hers, in her way. It’s a fair compromise. And they aren’t-
She knows it’s irrational, absurd, laughably emotional to feel imprints in flesh where there are none, to imagine the relentless pressure of pads and nails and mind at unexpected moments, to tilt her head into a brimming basin and submerge in icy water and desperately subliminate fire and chill, flame and void and still, sickeningly, feel. But control is what he had, and control is what she’d lacked. And in the end, if she’s lacking her torturer-mentor-predecessor’s tool of trade, then her own shortcoming is, at least, something she can live with. And they aren’t going-
Her teacher is buried alive and the truest criminal of them all walks free, commended and she, solitary, avoids it all. And they aren’t going to-
And sometimes, most times, avoidance is the worst punishment possible.
And they aren’t going to prosecute.
Valeris is typical enough to keep her admissions to herself. She’s also atypical enough to admit privately that half the time, she wishes they would.
