ǫᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴇʟsᴀ (icicles) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-02-28 07:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, star trek: orlin dax, ₴ inactive: elsa, → week 031 (two derleths) |
two derleths - day 7
They’d tried their best. They’d done everything they could with the time and the resources they had. But if there was one thing Derleth had taught Orlin, it was that there were no guarantees. No promises. And hope was a very brittle thing to hold onto. The other Orlin had been entirely too gracious. It almost broke his heart to imagine that someone else—anyone else—would be willing to swap places with him. That had never occurred to Orlin, suspicious mercenary doctor that he was. And it clearly had never occurred to any of the others from the Dark Derleth. Who would be willing to make that sacrifice? What kind of person did you have to be to give up comfort and safety for the sake of a stranger? Even if that stranger was another you. That had shaken Orlin to his core. He didn’t think he was a bad person. But he knew he wasn’t that good. If the circumstances had been reversed, he didn’t think he would make the same decision. But he couldn’t know for sure. His first hope had been that maybe remaining in one of the warded rooms during the reset would trick Derleth into keeping them there. But now Butler Hall was destroyed and that option was lost to them. He was aware of the magically inclined from the better Derleth doing their best to remove the badges. Instead of doing that, the two Orlins worked together using the limited technology the good Orlin had brought with him from his world to try and stabilize the badge so that it would stay regardless of whether anyone else was tagged. Orlin felt a pang of both guilt and gratitude at how diligent his counterpart worked. He didn’t know why he was so willing to help him. He didn’t know if it was simply because he was a better person than him or because Orlin saw the way he and Elsa had looked at each other in the clinic. Maybe it was just that Starfleet mentality. To seek out new life and new civilizations … and help them. Regardless, they’d done what they could. And now all they could do was wait. Orlin sat beside Elsa on a fallen tree trunk at the edge of the forest, not far from the greenhouse. He was thinking about the other version of himself, who’d decided to make his way to the more desolate Derleth as a last resort. Maybe if they were in each other’s places then Derleth would grab the wrong one during the reset. The logic struck Orlin as rather weak, but he went along with it. What was the worst that could happen? That it didn’t work. And that’s what he expected anyway. He reached over and took Elsa’s hand in his own, entwining their fingers together. “I heard a story that some of the people from your Derleth managed to communicate with another one. If this plan doesn’t work, maybe it will still be possible to send each other messages.” Hope was indeed a brittle thing to hold on - especially here. Brittle as dead trees or crystal that had lost its luster, and Elsa wasn’t even the type to put much stock into it. Not really, anyway, not like how Anna might - in fact, if Anna were here it would be a different story. Elsa was certain that her sister would be championing this doomed would-be love affair (even if it had barely gotten off the ground and would surely be squelched, much like any candle flame flicker of the aforementioned hope within her) and would be trying as hard as she could to ensure that Orlin from the other side stayed here. Elsa’s magic didn’t necessarily lend itself to that sort of thing, when it came to removing badges (or curses - she was familiar with them, thanks to her aunt Ingrid and the spell of Shattered Sight which required mirror shards and was very complicated). So she stuck with patrolling the campus and assisting wherever she could with the more tech-oriented solutions. She didn’t know much about that either, but had to believe that it would be somewhat effective - they had to try, anyway, because if they didn’t then they really wouldn’t know for sure, now would they? “There has to be a way to communicate, at least - you won’t be rid of me that easily,” she smiled wanly. “Here - “ While she wasn’t always familiar with the mish-mosh of magic that could be found in any witch or wizard or sorcerer in Derleth, she knew her own world’s magic very well. It was ingrained in her, down to the bone marrow, and it had taken Elsa a long time to accept that. “I don’t know if this will stay with you, but if it does - “ She reached into the pocket of her pants (old jeans and very comfortable, screw wearing dresses all the time) and brought out the wishing star necklace, dropping it into Orlin’s free hand. “You can use it to make a wish and it will come true. Any wish.” The caveat was that only people pure of heart could use it, but - she knew that he was. Deep down. Even if he forgot himself, it was still there and she was willing to bet pretty much anything on that. Orlin was trying his hardest to remain positive, but the truth of the matter was he didn’t think this plan was going to work. He was almost certain that when the reset arrived he would wake up in his own desolate, dirt-covered Derleth, the rest of the residents unleashing incomparable rage and violence upon each other. He could already see it. The hurt, the vengeance, the agony. And with the other Derleth gone all they would have was themselves to blame. Or, in the case of most of the people from his Derleth, each other. Because no one wanted to take responsibility for being the reason why the plan didn’t work. Nobody wanted to accept the criticism and the accusations. There was too much narcissism for that kind of internal self-assessment. To many egos. It was going to be a disaster. It was probably going to be a bloodbath. And Orlin would have to prepare himself for the fact that he might not last long next week. Because he’d already stepped out of line by suggesting they consider a backup plan. Even Sharon, whom he trusted more than most, had insinuated that he watch his back if things went south with the magical badges. He didn’t know if she was talking about herself as well as the more vengeful people in Derleth, but Orlin had been there long enough to know that no alliance was forged in stone. People could turn on each other in an instant. When Elsa offered him the necklace, he looked at her in confusion. Why would she give him something so personal? Something so valuable? He didn’t deserve that. Just as he didn’t deserve the sacrifice the other Orlin was willing to make for him. “I can’t take that,” he said. “You might need it.” Of course, Derleth worked in strange ways. Sometimes their belongings resetted with them. Her necklace might have been one of those things. But there was never any guarantee. Just as there was no guarantee that this seemingly story book romance would ever amount to anything. In fact, maybe this was fate’s way of saying that it wasn’t meant to be. He looked down at the pendant in his hand, admiring the intricate beauty of the snowflake shape with its sparkling stones glittering centerpiece. He held it back out to her. “This is too much. You should save this for someone important. Someone special. Not someone you just met.” Not someone who’d tried to force her and all of her friends into a wasteland existence. That wasn’t the kind of a person who deserved such a thoughtful and powerful gift. “Besides … I might make a selfish wish.” “I always reset with it,” Elsa assured. She hadn’t even used it yet, however - she kept it with her, more of a security blanket than anything else, but in most dire situations? You couldn’t wish your way out of them. Sometimes you had to fight, in order to know what you were really made of. Negative experiences added meaning - they were their own kind of pillar, on this journey known as life, and she recognized that. But then other times, you needed an ace up your sleeve. And besides, those who had seen the other side of Derleth? They’d done enough fighting and it was time for a rest - after many years of scraping by, Elsa believed they’d earned that. They hadn’t gone about things the ‘right’ way, not with the duplicity involved with the badges and the violence - but she could understand why they’d gone about it in such a manner. Didn’t excuse it, but she understood. She leaned up and let her lips brush the edge of his jaw, cheeks flushed rose quartz as they tended to when she thought about how much she wanted to kiss him - and despite the frigid temperatures her magic could bring, Elsa herself was warm. Or she could be, when her skin flushed like this. “And it’s okay if you make a selfish wish - you can’t take care of other people until you can take care of yourself. Sometimes it’s important to be selfish.” Not all of the time. But - it had its advantages in leadership roles, at least, as she’d learned during her reign as queen and thus she wasn’t apt to dismiss it right off the bat. If you had trouble being self-focused, you also had trouble saying no. She was so unlike anyone he’d ever met. And it made Orlin wonder if there was something more to the Elsa from his Derleth, as well. He had so many similarities with his counterpart. Was it not possible that there was this warm, affectionate person beneath that cold, terrifying exterior? Could it be that they all had the potential to be as good as their counterparts? Like Stevie’s kaiju, were they not just afraid and hiding behind their fear? If he did return to his Derleth, maybe that was something he could seek out. The good in the people he’d known for so long. He’d already witnessed an inkling of it in Aziraphale and Yennefer. Perhaps there were more. And if there were enough of them, maybe they could change their Derleth for the better. Maybe they could wipe the evil out of their desolation and plant something beautiful in its place. Or, if nothing else, maybe they could all become friends and learn to work together like the people in this Derleth. Orlin was still looking at the necklace when her lips brushed against his skin. Her touch was soft and smooth. And it left behind that faint aroma of freshly fallen snow. It was a sensation that caused his shoulders to relax and most of the worries to fade from his thoughts. At least temporarily. He hoped he’d be able to remember her touch. The sound of her voice. The sweetness in those dulcet tones. The goodness in her measure. If only he could wrap that memory up inside this necklace and keep it for all time. To remind him of what could have been. What might have been. He slipped the necklace into his jacket pocket and turned to face her, lips mere inches from each other. He ran his fingers through her hair, tucking the strands behind her ear to uncover the side of her face. “But I might wish for something I shouldn’t be allowed to have.” He might have wished for her. It was his first thought, after all. His second thought was to use it now. To wish that he could stay with her. That they could find a way to be together. But he wouldn’t do that. Because Orlin may have thought badly of himself, but he wasn’t bad. And he wasn’t quite as selfish as he perceived himself. He was a good man in a bad set of circumstances. And that made all the difference. He smiled, sad but hopeful. “Thank you for everything you’ve done this week. I wish we could have had more time. I wish we could have gotten to know each other better.” Who was she to judge what people should or shouldn’t have, or what they deserved? At the end of the day, they weren’t going to get any more or any less than what they deserved regardless - so in this life, you may as well take risks. And fail. Sometimes succeed. Maybe even get caught up in a tornado whirlwind of bittersweet romance with someone you may never see again - if these sorts of endeavors were meant to be boring, no one would write epic poetry or stories about Once Upon a Time or Happily Ever After; there was always something beyond that after, and a whole lot in between - both good and bad. Ever since Butler Hall had been destroyed, they’d all been scrambling. For a place to sleep, for clothes, for a feeling of safety since the one spot they could claim (their rooms) was no more. Elsa felt exhausted and unclean, what she was wearing now something she had to scrounge for and definitely hadn’t washed since the kaiju attack, but she didn’t think Orlin minded when she placed her hand on the side of his face, stroking his cheek. “Well, I don’t regret any of the time we did have,” she said, fingertips lightly trailing over skin - his jaw, his lips, even the shape of his nose because she wanted to remember everything about this moment despite how familiar she was with the face. There was an Orlin she would still have here, yes, and who knows what would happen - it seemed he was going to be important to her no matter what. To her counterpart too, who was cold but not unreachable. “Tell me something about you anyway?” she encouraged. “We still have some time left.” And they didn’t have to spend it discussing the Inevitable. Orlin didn’t notice anything amiss about her appearance. He didn’t see the weariness in her eyes or the mess of her clothes. He didn’t know that she hadn’t showered in a few days or that she hadn’t changed her attire. Maybe it was because he was used to that. There weren’t any amenities in his Derleth. There weren’t a lot of opportunities to indulge in materialistic creature comforts. Every day was about survival. Every day was about making it to the next day. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d worn a new pair of shoes or spent an extra ten minutes lounging under a hot shower. He didn’t even smell the stench of the people around him, let alone the decaying odor of the desolation. All he saw when he looked at her was beauty and perfection and an overwhelming kindness. Maybe that was silly of him. Maybe that made him sappy or a hopeless romantic. But it didn’t matter. If they only had a short time left together then there was no point in pretending he didn’t feel something. And Orlin did feel something. Which was why his heart was pounding in his chest. Pounding in anticipation, knowing full well this moment might never come again. She touched his face. Fingers tracing the sharp lines in his face. Nose, jaw, cheekbone. And Orlin wanted to do the same. But he was afraid that if he touched her like that he wouldn’t be able to let go. “I’m only half Trill,” he said without thinking. And after he said that his brain went into momentary shock. That wasn’t something he was supposed to reveal. He’d promised the Symbiosis Committee that he would take that secret to his grave. And yet he confessed the words as easily as saying the grass was green. “I’ve never said that to anyone before. Not since the joining.” It was a relief though. A weight lifted off his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how difficult it had been to deny that aspect of himself until he spoke the truth. And while it felt strange to admit, he was glad he did. “My mother was from Betazed. But my father was from Trill. Only full blooded Trill are permitted to go through the joining. But I was the only one nearby when Dax’s last host was mortally wounded. They had no choice but to try.” And now Orlin couldn’t imagine his life without Dax. It wasn’t the life he wanted, but he wouldn’t have changed it. “Tell me something about you.” That was a weighty secret, Elsa presumed. “Why are only the full-blooded allowed to go through the joining?” she asked, curious, and it was also a chance to give herself a moment to come up with something that was of equal value to share. Overall, she wasn’t very interesting (or at least that was what she thought) and her experiences had been so different from Orlin’s at face value - the galaxies were vast, swirls of colors and space as a concept was so overwhelming with its endlessness. All she knew were trolls and goblins, dragons and magic - a magic which powered the world, whether it was glittering dust or True Love’s Kiss. The fact that there had been something past all of that, portals to other realms, was mind-boggling to her. “I never wanted to be queen,” she shared, leaning closer, pressing against him - as if they could share everything, breath and personal space and secrets included. “But - I had to. I suppose I was more grounded, a little more savvy about the ways of the world than my sister. It was just never what I wanted.” If she’d refused, there would have been speculation about her health, her well-being. She’d be looked at as weak and a disgrace to her family - after the death of her parents, riots and protests or perhaps a coup d'etat wouldn’t be what they needed either, so she stepped up. For the good of her and Anna, for their parents and in honor of them. It was just - she wasn’t meant for this. At all. “It’s why I don’t want to go back home, necessarily. We’re now The United Realms and there’s technically one queen of that but - still. I don’t need to be there, even if there’s a lot I would change about our...circumstances now.” “There aren’t a lot of symbionts on Trill so the process of being accepted for the joining is intensely competitive. They only take the most qualified of individuals and applicants have to go under obscene amounts of scrutiny in order to pass all of the tests and evaluations. For a lot of Trill it’s considered an almost spiritual blessing to be allowed to join with a symbiont. And the committee in charge of the joining spent centuries convincing everyone that only the best, smartest, most creative individuals were appropriate candidates. Part of that bias was making an entire planet of people believe that only pure Trill were physically capable of a successful joining. But it’s just a measure of control. That’s how they maintain power.” Orlin had feelings about it, but he wasn’t in (and never had been) a position to make a change in that regard. He rarely even ventured near Trill in the years before he found himself in Derleth. And he suspected he’d never see it again. He wondered if the same was of his counterpart. He’d considered asking him, but he sensed it might have been a sensitive subject. Elsa leaned in closer to him and Orlin turned so he could face her more directly, arms wrapping around her to maintain that closeness. He’d never held onto someone during the reset. If he clung to her tight enough would she come with him to his world? Would he remain tethered to hers? And if they were separated, would it still be possible for him to feel her ghostly touch when he was alone? Like some lost fragment of time haunting the air like one of the many spectres who stalked the desolation. “I never wanted to be joined. That was a dream my parents had for me, but it wasn’t something I’d ever strived for. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Orlin paused. “Or the right place at the right time. It’s not easy having all of these other lives in your thoughts. All of these memories, both foreign and intimate, and trying to figure out who you are with all the competing personalities. But I think it was meant to be. I was always lonely before. But with Dax I feel more … complete.” Which by no means made it easy. And it was still a process he was taking day by day. But Dax had given Orlin something he never could have achieved on his own. An eternal life in all future hosts. The urge to kiss her then was too much and he pressed his lips to hers. By most definitions, it was a chaste kiss. But the feeling behind it was all but platonic for Orlin. And where his counterpart might have been more hesitant because of her royal status, this version of him was not. But he didn’t have anything to lose. “If you didn’t have to be queen in your world, what would you have been? What would you have chosen?” She kissed him in return, shyness and figurative ice beginning to slide away, off into a well, the more she did this. Elsa didn’t have much experience but that didn’t seem to matter now - not when it felt natural and right, everything about it did, from the way she curved her lips around Orlin’s to the way her hands came up and cradled his face, fingertips brushing over the curls of his hair which she liked a lot too. At first she was a bit distracted and then she realized he’d asked her something. “Oh - “ Hmm. She kissed him once more before attempting to get the cogs in her head to turn. “I’m not sure, actually,” she chuckled, a breathy sound. “Maybe living in the forest, a wanderer of sorts. There were Ogre Wars and all kinds of other territory disputes, but - there’s a respect for nature and you can do pretty much anything you want to do. I might have had a little cottage, or a farm.” Something simple. That seemed especially beautiful, after everything she’d been through. Orlin’s romantic life since arriving in Derleth had been nonexistent. There were some people who’d managed to find their passionate niche in between the backstabbing and the torture, but Orlin wasn’t one of them. The lack of peaceful resets aside, he couldn’t build an emotional bond with people he couldn’t trust. And Orlin needed trust. He needed to feel like it was more than just physical lust. It would have been easy to blame that on Dax, who’d been married half a dozen times and spent centuries dipping his toes in affairs with aliens across the galaxy. But this was all Orlin. This was what made him different from previous hosts. Orlin was a hopeless romantic. Which was why this would be so painful if it didn’t work out. Because Orlin never imagined he’d feel so strongly for someone in such a short period of time. And if Derleth separated them it would be very hard for him to recover. But that would have been typical Derleth. Dangle hope and happiness, then snatch it away. He listened intently when she spoke. He didn’t know anything about ogres or magic (except for what he’d seen from the people of his Derleth,) but he loved the way Elsa spoke and the sound in her voice when she imagined what her life would have been like without a crown and a kingdom. It was such a stark contrast from what he knew of his Ice Queen. It was hard to imagine that there could be a part of her that wished she were a nobody living in the forest. “I’ve never seen a cottage.” He’d spent his life on starships, streaking across the universe from one galaxy to the next. He’d seen futuristic high rise apartments on planets that consisted of one giant city. He’d been to the ancient fighting temples on Qo’noS and the Dakeen Monastery on Bajor. He’d seen nebulas and wormholes and black holes. But he’d never seen a tiny cottage in the woods. It sounded like an incredible adventure. “I’d love to see this forest of yours. It sounds beautifully peaceful.” Orlin looked up at the dark canopy of trees above them. “Like this one. You could build your cottage here.” “It can be peaceful, I suppose,” Elsa smiled wistfully. When the Ogres weren’t tearing it apart, or other bandits weren’t running amuck or bridge trolls weren’t hunkered beneath their homes and hindering travel, coveting the sparkle of jewels (they loved the taste of royal blood most of all, apparently). “And if I ever get a chance to build a cottage, anywhere we are - “ Maybe something more permanent would happen, you never knew (people were working on it and she along with most everyone else craved stability). “...then I’ll find a way to show you. To tell you about it. There has to be a way we can keep in touch.” If some here had managed to find a way to communicate, well, Elsa was sure it could happen again - she wouldn’t give up. Shifting a little, she moved to slide herself into Orlin's lap instead of sitting beside him - click, puzzle pieces locking into place. Her arms draped around his shoulders, as she tossed her hair to let the cornsilk mess fall behind her and out of the way. "I wasn’t close to anyone back home but there were a couple instances where...I wanted to see what it was like," she added. Occasionally. She received visitors once in a blue moon, those mages and scholars who had heard the tale of a beautiful Snow Queen, a heart as chilly as the magic she wielded and nothing but icicles in her cold, blue stare. They wanted to see her in the flesh, their curiosities too much for them - or perhaps they even wanted to weave a story for their friends back in their home, boasting about having 'conquered' the unmovable mountain that was Her Majesty. Out of wanting to satisfy her curiosities about what her ladies-in-waiting whispered about, she decided to indulge their whimsies once or twice - hardly anyone would believe their tales anyway. Besides, she'd be able to defend herself if something went awry. But she had sort of come to the conclusion that, for her, fun and an emotional connection had to go hand in hand. She didn't care for it otherwise. It was just that she hadn't met anyone she shared that emotional component with, until now. The romance and the thawing - it had been foreign to her, as much as it likely was for her counterpart. Anywhere we are. Those words were bittersweet. Orlin wanted to think that he might be included in that ‘we’. That he might become one of the people from her Derleth instead of the decrepit desert of torture across the way. But the chances of that seemed to grow slimmer and slimmer by the minute. He wished he could have had his counterpart’s optimism. His positivity. His faith. Orlin wasn’t completely void of hope, but after so many years of disappointment he knew not to get too attached to an idea or a dream. He hoped the other version of himself never had to learn that hard lesson. He hoped that wherever he ended up, he’d be able to retain that formidable enthusiasm. But Orlin also knew that being too far on the positive side could set a person up for a devastating fall. He’d seen it often enough in his Derleth from newcomers. It was always a disheartening thing to witness the spark of joy and confidence snuffed out of a person’s gaze. “We’ll find a way to communicate. I know we will. I won’t stop trying.” And Orlin wouldn’t. Although he recognized that it could be years before he found a way to send a message across Derleth’s vast and complicated map of alternate universes. And even if he did succeed, there was no guarantee he’d find this Elsa on this Derleth. But it was a beautiful idea to hold onto. And, if nothing else, it would give him something to work on while the world fell apart around him. He slipped idly into a daydream about that for a moment. A moment that was dashed as soon as she climbed into his lap. He didn’t have the chance to hide his shock. Sweet, affectionate kisses were one thing. But this was a level of closeness he hadn’t prepared for. Still, his arms instantly went around her waist, holding her safe, preventing any accidental tumbles. He looked up at her as those golden strands of hair were swept out of her face. How was it possible for someone to so quickly take his breath away? She was effortless. Like dandelion seeds floating on a summer breeze. And up close he could barely sense anything wintry about her. On the contrary. She was all warmth and brightness. And then she said something he didn’t expect at all. His cheeks flushed a rosy hue. The spots that spread down from his temples took on a darker coloring. But perhaps she wouldn’t notice. Perhaps the eerie darkness of the Void sky, lit up only by the distant smoggy gleam of the other Derleth, would hide his boyish embarrassment. “Are you…” Orlin cleared his throat. His hands remained politely at her waist, above the clothing, but his fingers gripped a little harder in response to his own question. A question that even before being asked caused his heart to speed up in his chest. “...Is that something you want?” “Yes,” Elsa replied, and she was clear about that - you know, just in case there were any worries about consent and whatnot. Her aunt Ingrid had dealt with a particularly boorish man (betrothed to her sister, another of Elsa’s aunts no less) who couldn’t take no for an answer - and worse, no one had believed her about the assault. Because of that, Elsa was particularly sensitive to the idea of being able to stop when someone said stop, and she remained firm on not doing anything she wasn’t comfortable with. She wasn’t the most physical person anyway, so to go that far - indeed, it was entirely her decision. “I do want that.” But she was certain now. Everything about this situation felt right, even in the swarm of pheromones between them that seemed to be so intense. So intense that it could render a God heady, in fact. But that was the way of things, wasn’t it? Little need for inhibitions, not when the reset was upon them and everything was literally dark and dreary, a black storm descending and thickening over what few bits of light remained as part of their world. “Is that what you want?” she asked, volleying the question back because it seemed only fair. Orlin didn’t answer immediately. Not because he didn’t want to. He did. He never would have imagined that he’d want that after their short-lived dances and cursory glances over canapes during the party. But after that quiet moment they shared in the clinic he’d felt an undeniable pull towards Elsa. As such, his hesitation had nothing to do with his desires or his cravings. Instead it had to do with how he imagined things would be in the aftermath. How he would cope—or not cope, as the case might be—if he were to wake up in his Derleth. Alone. Forever separated from the first person he’d opened his heart to in years. And possibly the last person he would. Because Orlin, despite his attempts at presenting a firm and unwavering exterior (that was the only way to survive in his Derleth,) was soft hearted underneath. And there was something of a hopeless romantic in him as well. It was Jadzia that helped him find his answer. Jadzia, Dax’s previous host, had lived life to the fullest. She’d taken risks. She’d lived everyday as though it were her last. She’d treated every meeting like a new adventure. She’d been vibrant and bold and fearless. And it was her voice he heard in his mind reminding him that it was much more difficult to live with regret than to live with a mistake. And how often did a person get the opportunity to experience a perfect romance? Although it might be brief, it would be real. And it would be a memory he’d take with for the rest of his life. And then Dax would carry it on in his next life and his next. Hundreds of years from now another Dax would be able to look back on this moment and remember something beautiful. Tragic, but beautiful. “I can think of nothing that would make me happier than to spend my last moments here with you. Completely with you.” And to affirm his sincerity, he kissed her again. This time with less modesty. A long and purposeful kiss, full of ardor and affection. The kind of kiss that evil queens in her world might see through a mirror and curse. Perhaps even the kind that could wake someone from a magical slumber. Then, when they both came up for a breath, he lifted her off his lap and came to a stand. “Let us find a more comfortable place.” While there’s still time went left unsaid. |