ǫᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴇʟsᴀ (icicles) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-04-18 17:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, star trek: orlin dax, ₴ inactive: elsa, → week 035 (canon puncture) |
canon puncture - day 2
Orlin probably should have been more disoriented with all of the resets, but he wasn’t. He liked to think most of the composure he maintained with each changing week was due to Dax. But it was also the steady fortitude of Baymax who didn’t change much—or at all—from week to week. Likewise, and probably most relevant to his willingness to keep his cool, was his enthusiasm to see Elsa. Orlin liked her. He really liked her. And while it wasn’t a new experience for him—he’d had crushes before and Dax had had numerous lovers over his long lifetime—this felt different. This felt like it could actually be something. He wasn’t going to overreact or exaggerate. He didn’t think she was the one, as so many cadets used to refer to their boyfriends or girlfriends while they were in training at the academy, but he did think they had potential. If not as a formal long term relationship then at least as good friends. Although, if she decided that she only wanted to be his friend then he would have to learn to control those butterflies he had in his stomach every time he thought of her. Orlin wanted to ask Elsa if she wanted to take their friendship to the next level. He’d been thinking about it ever since their dinner date two weeks earlier, but it never felt like the right time. This week was relatively restful. It didn’t look like anything extreme was going to happen aside from the odd visions of their lives popping up in various forms around campus. This might be the best chance for him to broach the subject with her. (And hopefully not accidentally set himself on fire in the process like the last time.) Which reminded him that on top of asking her to be his—was there a better word than girlfriend?—sweetheart, he had to tell her something else about himself. Something important that he’d been avoiding out of a kind of awkward embarrassment. That was his plan for today while she helped him in the clinic. But so far they’d been organizing the medical supplies for twenty minutes and he’d yet to bring it up. Orlin tugged on the collar of his uniform, unsuccessfully trying to loosen it. Maybe he ought to ease into it through a more general conversation topic. He cleared his throat. “It seems like almost everyone on campus has found a piece of media about themselves. Has anything shown up about you?” The week, thus far, seemed relatively safe. Quiet. Fully stocked with the usual food and ‘amenities,’ and their cramped Butler Hall rooms with their odd doors (hers and Matt’s still smelled like cedar, a very strong aroma that reminded Elsa of pencil shavings and boxes containing fine cigars) were actually a welcome sight after a week of having to camp on an island chock-full of prehistoric creatures. The quiet meant that Elsa was able to get back to helping in the clinic, which she was always happy to do - she’d learned so much from Orlin about first aid and field medicine, and the techniques she’d began to master had actually come in handy a few times since she began her ‘apprenticeship’ with him. They all knew that being attacked was quite commonplace during their Derleth adventures, whether it was by floating eye monsters or giant snow beasts, depending where they were. Plus, she liked being around him - he was calming. Sweet. Genuinely helpful and intelligent, not to mention patient. And quite a good kisser too but anyway. So she sat on a stool, wearing 80s jeans (out of time, a little, but oh well) and a rich plum-colored blouse - different from her usual pale blue shade. Her hair was braided as usual, resting over one shoulder while she took inventory and made notes on a clipboard - her anal retentive streak was coming in handy now, and she couldn’t be more pleased. “Oh - “ She looked up, smiling a little sheepishly. “Yes, actually - it was on one of the television screens? This...play, I guess. But it was me and Anna returning from Storybrooke and reclaiming our kingdom from Hans. I also saw her in her wedding dress, she was about to get married to Kristoff.” And the smell of chocolate had filtered in, enticing them - overall it had been a beautiful day, and seeing it on a screen hit a bunch of nostalgic places for Elsa. “It was nice though - to watch it, I mean. If a little odd to think that on another timeline other people can watch too.” Was that how it worked? So strange. “How about you?” Orlin removed a large cardboard box of random medical supplies, including bandages and alcohol swabs, which had been shoved under a counter since Florida—or at least that’s what he assumed based on the Florida Oranges logo on the side of the box—and began removing the items. He tried to organize them on the counter so Elsa could take note of what they had. Some of the items were useful. One could never have enough gauze or medical tape. But there were some rather antiquated—at least by 24th century standards—products that were only necessary for childbirth. He didn’t anticipate those being useful with the resets, but perhaps he could repurpose them for another function. “It just started playing randomly on one of the screens?” Orlin stopped reaching into the box in order to look at her. He hadn’t realized that some people’s lives were just showing up on active televisions. That was a little disturbing, actually. What if it was something someone didn’t want others to see? That seemed quite an invasion of personal space. “I hope that wasn’t too distressing for you. If I hadn’t already been here for a while, I’d probably be horrified by the idea that people in another universe were watching things about my life, but . . . I suppose it’s not really all that peculiar. But it sounds like yours was a nice memory at least? Weddings are always nice events. Well, usually.” He looked back into the box, purposefully avoiding Elsa’s gaze. He removed a first aid kit and checked to make sure it was fully stocked before setting it on the counter. “I did find a tape in the clinic yesterday with the name of a space station I used to work at written on it. Well, where Dax used to work. I watched it. It was me, but not me. It was about Jadzia. She was the host before Ezri. Coincidentally there was also a wedding in my tape.” Orlin smiled down at the roll of gauze in his hand. It was a nostalgic but also sentimental look. And there was an obvious twinge of sadness in his eyes. “It was the day I—we—she got married. It’s an odd thing. I remember it as if I’d been there. I remember the emotions and the feel of the dress on my skin and the frustration. There was some controversy about whether I . . . about whether Jadzia was good enough to marry into the family. I remember it all as if I’d lived it myself, but I was never there.” Orlin chewed on his lower lip. “It was hard to watch because Jadzia’s death was so unexpected. That was the happiest moment of her life. A lot of the previous hosts have been in love or gotten married, but Jadzia was so passionate. Her love for her husband stands out more strongly than the rest. It’s hard to ignore sometimes.” “Oh - “ Elsa breathed out, a hushed tone. She always found Orlin’s observations and stories about the previous hosts, the way the memories sank in like a rock into marshmallow and still elicited these emotional responses in him, to be very interesting. “Could you even ignore it?” she asked rhetorically. “I mean, maybe for the reasoning of - well, it’s a lot for you personally to deal with, but. I imagine a love like that would be something to celebrate. It seems...so rare.” Weddings were also beautiful events - her own sister’s wedding had been amazing, and Elsa was glad to be a part of it. To know that Anna was marrying someone who would work hard to do right by her, and who also had Arendelle’s best interests in mind - and who would let Anna shine in the way she deserved. Elsa had never considered anything like that for herself, not really, but she liked hearing about things like that when it came to other people - and maybe she had a soft spot for romantic tales deep down as well. She assessed some of the childbirth supplies - umbilical scissors? Cooling pads? (well, those could definitely be repurposed) - and put them into piles. One pile was ‘no idea’ and the other was ‘this could be made into something else.’ “Would you ever want something like that for yourself?” she asked curiously. “Some of the hosts are harder to ignore than others. The same goes with the memories. Jadzia has always been one of Dax’s strongest personalities. Ezri struggled with having her in her thoughts as well. It’s a normal part of the process. Eventually I’ll get used to it and find a way to filter through the noise.” At least, Orlin thought he would. But he wasn’t certain if the resets were blocking his progress. He hadn’t been in Derleth long enough for him to know for sure. He’d just have to wait and see. A little more enthusiasm joined his smile when Elsa mentioned the rarity of such a love. “Oh, what Jadzia had was definitely a once in a lifetime thing. Maybe even more than one lifetime. It was beautiful and I’m honored to be able to carry that memory of her. But it can be overwhelming at times.” Orlin set the gauze in the ever growing gauze pile. “I would do almost anything to feel that myself. To feel that kind of connection with another person. That closeness. That intimacy. To figure so deeply in someone else’s thoughts…” Orlin set an old stethoscope off to the side. “When I was younger my mother had hopes of matching me with someone from one of the Betazoid houses. That’s a custom on her planet. But pure Betazoids are telepathic. I’m not. So the houses all denied her request. That didn’t bother me really. I wanted to make a career for myself first before a family. But space can be lonely. And there were times when I envied some of my colleagues. Then I joined with Dax and … well, that’s a different kind of complication. Because everything I do now, all the choices I make, aren’t just for me. They’re for Dax. And it’s important in Trill culture that symbionts experience different lives. That they gain new challenges, experiences, and emotions through the host.” Orlin stopped rummaging through the box and turned to face Elsa. “Actually, in that line of thought, I wanted to ask you something a few weeks ago but I lost the nerve.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “I really like you, Elsa. And I know I’m probably not what you ever expected to find in a … companion. And I’m not really good at any of this. Not to mention the fact that you’re, well, you’re so confident and elegant. But I was hoping you would allow me to court you more formally.” Breathe, Orlin. Breathe. Elsa could see how space might be lonely. The swirl of planets, their colors and the spinning stars, all seemed gorgeous - but the black hole sensations of it all, the vastness, it probably could begin to feel like a quiet sadness that was resigned. Like you were just one speck in the universe and it was hard to find your footing - even more so when you had all of these expectations placed upon you, all these rules. She understood that well, however. Pushing her braid over her shoulder so she could reach down and help Orlin rummage through one of the boxes marked with oranges (she had never been to Florida but apparently Disneyworld was there and so was another ice queen with her name), she didn’t move when she was in his personal space - her shoulder even brushed his, but then he stopped rummaging and she did too. She glanced up. What was - oh. Oh, oh, oh. Now she just felt her heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings, rapidfire right there in her chest - she was sure her cheeks turned pink, or maybe skipped pink and went straight to roses-are-red. “You want to court me?” Her lips twitched into a half-smile; it was unable to be helped. “Yes - I mean, yes to the courting and I want you to court me. I think I’m lucky to have you as a companion, honestly. You’re wonderful.” She grasped his shirt and used that as an anchor to lean in and kiss him - just a brief touch of lips, but it still did its part at thawing any residual ice around her heart. But there wasn’t much - Elsa had grown past that. The last thing she wanted was to end up alone, lost to her solitude - and she would, if she pushed people away. “How does courting work in space?” she wanted to know, a twinkle in her eye. When she first asked if he wanted to court her, Orlin feared he might have said the wrong thing. Or used the incorrect words. He’d never really done this before. And she wasn’t from his world. Not even his universe. Also, she was a queen. Orlin thought he needed to be more formal and polite. Also ‘dating’ felt like such a human term. And while it wasn’t incorrect he just wasn’t sure that it was right for this moment or this occasion. Maybe later if someone asked him if he was dating Elsa—assuming she agreed—then he’d get used to the phrase. “Is that the right way to say it where you’re from? Yes, I’d very much like to be your … Well, more than friends. But, of course, if you would rather just remain friends that’s quite alright! I promise not to—” Orlin cut himself off. What did she say? Did she agree? She did! Oh, no. What was he supposed to do now? He could feel his face deepening to an embarrassed red hue. Honestly, he felt a little faint. She thought he was wonderful. Now it was his turn for his stomach to do somersaults. Then she saved him from having to think of something to say. Saved him with a kiss. A kiss that wasn’t too passionate or forceful, but still made Orlin feel like he was the only person in the entire universe. And he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her again but with more vigor. More intensity. But that would have to wait. “It’s quite diverse! Different for every species. Ferengi, for example, have a tradition where they touch each other’s ears and—” Orlin stopped with an awkward laugh. “Well, I’m not Ferengi thankfully. In space we mostly just spend a lot of time together and get to know about each other. It is probably not too much different from the customs of Arendelle. But…” Orlin took one of her hands in both of his. He couldn’t avoid this any longer now that she’d accepted him. Best to just get it out. “There are two things I feel like I should tell you beforehand. I want to be completely open with you and if either of these things makes you change your mind I’ll understand. The first, and probably the main reason I’ve avoided too many close personal relationships, is that … Well, the part of me that is Betazoid like my mother … Because of our psionic abilities, if we get emotionally close to someone—like very personally close—a link can be formed. This can also happen with good friends, although that’s less common than someone a Betazoid is in a relationship with. But with time it’s possible that my partner could feel my emotions and hear my thoughts. And vice versa.” Orlin gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Although my empathy already allows me to sense emotions, this would be much more intimate. With time and closeness it could even be possible to have entire conversations in our heads. I know that might be frightening for some people. Or too intrusive. It does prevent many humans from being with Betazoids. Even half-Betazoids like myself.” Orlin looked down at their hands again. He gently rubbed her knuckles with his fingertips. Her skin was so soft. It helped ground him in his thoughts. Now for the harder thing to admit. Not that he felt ashamed about it. He had his reasons, after all. But it was still a delicate topic. Especially after having met his counterpart from the other Derleth. “The other thing is that…” He gave a small laugh. “It’s silly, really. But I’ve never been with anyone before. In a physical sense. Obviously I know how it works. And I have memories from my other hosts and from Dax. But I personally have not yet had that … honor.” And Orlin was aware that for some cultures inexperience was a turn off. “It’s not silly,” Elsa protested right away, her other hand coming up to cover Orlin’s - she stroked in between his fingers reassuringly, and though it was always adorable when his spots became more pronounced during a bout of turning red she didn’t want him to feel too anxious. Or worried. Though she understood - anxiety, thy name was Elsa. “I came from the late eighteen-hundreds, in terms of time period - people weren’t as open about physical relationships as they are nowadays. It happened, of course, but before marriage it was quite frowned upon. I don’t have much experience myself,” she admitted, ducking her head a bit. “The experience I do have is due to curiosity - I figured out that I really don’t enjoy the physical pleasures unless...there’s an emotional connection?” And there hadn’t been, not really - not with the would-be suitors and scholars who visited the Queen in search of a way to thaw the chill of her heart; after her coronation especially, and the summer winter, everyone in neighboring lands knew about Elsa’s magic - word traveled fast. No one had succeeded though - she didn’t regret experimenting though, because she had learned things about herself. “So I suppose all of that is to say, being linked - mentally, emotionally - none of that frightens me. It’s what I would want. I think it would make for something very fulfilling,” she said. She knew she felt that connection with Orlin anyway, which was why she’d shared a moment with his counterpart - they hadn’t had a chance for it to develop into a full-blown mental link, yet she was certain that it could. It was a relief to finally get both of those things out in the open. Even though Orlin had never doubted that Elsa would respond to his confessions with courtesy and grace, he didn’t know if they would be reason enough for her to keep her distance. Empathic abilities were difficult enough for some people to accept. Telepathy? That was an entirely different realm of challenges. Especially for humans. Orlin had seen many human recruits at Starfleet grow uneasy among some of their psionic colleagues. Orlin had the benefit of looking like a full Trill so most people just assumed that’s what he was. But it was a frightening conversation for a lot of people. Even more for Orlin who’d been trying to keep it a secret since his joining. He breathed an audible sigh of relief, accompanied by an exuberant smile, when Elsa explained her own feelings on love and desire. Orlin couldn’t have hoped for a better answer. “Most species are quite open in the twenty-fourth century. At least those who are in the Federation. There are a few exceptions, of course. But most people have accepted that we have a much happier galaxy when we set aside our appearances and our differences. It’s not perfectly equal yet. There are still some prejudices.” Like a half-Trill joining with a symbiont. “But we’re getting better everyday.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the first two knuckles of her hand. From most other people it might have come off as nothing more than a sweet gesture, but from Orlin it seemed much more serious. And it was. Because he didn’t have moments like this with, well, with anyone. “I don’t know what the appropriate term is where you’re from. But in my culture we have a word for the people we’re with. And, with your permission, I’d like to use it for you. I’ve never called anyone it before.” He looked her in the eyes and tried not to be overwhelmed by the swell of excitement he felt in his chest. “Imzadi.” Oh, now Elsa was definitely turning red - she just felt heated, really, but not in a bad way. It was strange, for someone who was usually so chilly in demeanor and who naturally connected with that particular element of ice - but at the moment, she was thawing, and couldn’t be any further from experiencing a chill. Or giving off one. Her other hand came up and stroked Orlin’s cheek, backs of her fingers running along the slope of the bone. “Imzadi,” she repeated. “That’s beautiful - yes, I’d like that. Please, feel free - I’m afraid in our corner of the universe we don’t have anything quite so poetic.” Her eyes twinkled a bit, stars in them - the blue the color of clear skies in the morning. “I might just stick with...darling. Or something similar.” She wasn’t one for pet names that were schmoopy but simple yet elegant? Or ones that carried meaning? Nothing like sugar lips, that just sounded awful. “And no pressure about anything else, by the way,” she added. “On the physical side of things. Whenever you’re ready.” Who knew where they would even be, but Elsa wasn’t going to be particular about location - it was the emotional and mental readiness that mattered anyway. It was a special word for Orlin. It was the same word his mother used for his father, although he suspected his father didn’t quite appreciate its meaning. Maybe that was due in part to his stubborn Trill side. Betazoids were much more giving with their emotions and their passions. They enjoyed sharing everything with their friends, family, and partners. The Trill weren’t completely lacking in pleasure. They weren’t Vulcans, after all. But they were quite a bit more reserved. They had a distinct hierarchy. Orlin always felt like he fell somewhere in the middle. He wanted to express his passions. He wanted to embrace his enthusiasm for life and love. But he was also afraid to. And so he’d saved the word. In the hopes that one day he’d find someone worthy of it. And there was a tiny, unspoken hope that the first person would be the last person. But Orlin knew not to get ahead of himself. He was, at heart, a hopeless romantic. But he wasn’t irrational. He knew that sometimes the butterflies at the beginning of a relationship fluttered off to other fields. That was something he’d learned from Dax, who’d loved and lost more people than Orlin could count. “You’re welcome to use the word, if you want. But no pressure. You can call me anything. Coming from you it will always be poetry.” Although, he probably wasn’t a good representation of sugar lips. He was grinning again. He probably looked ridiculous. Like a schoolboy, brimming from ear to ear. And he couldn’t stop staring at her. “I’m sorry. I … I’m just really happy right now.” And then he kissed her. This time without asking awkwardly. He placed his hands on either side of her face and brought their lips together. It wasn’t urgent and it wasn’t perfect—he had a ways to go before he matched his counterpart in the romance department—but it was distinctly Orlin. And it was one hundred percent genuine affection. She kissed him in return, of course - and she saw stars behind her eyelids, stars that sparkled like frost, like diamonds shining in the night sky. It was a whole collision, really, and she felt the enthusiasm and the passion he was conveying - when you were this close to someone, when they showed their hand like this, it was hard to hide what they felt. And since she hardly ever got this close to anyone, it was hard to hide what she felt too - so she wouldn’t. She didn’t. And maybe Orlin was a little bit sugar lips - not like Elsa would ever say that out loud, though. He was always welcome to practice kissing with her as well - she had no complaints. A breathy little laugh escaped her, nearly delirious and just so giggly; she felt like she was swimming in champagne bubbles. “I’m happy too,” she whispered. “I haven’t been this happy in awhile.” And she hoped it would last - but she also wasn’t naive enough to think that it would, not in Derleth, so she had to take what she could get. Live in the moment, really appreciate it - at the very least, being here helped her realize just how important it truly was to be able to do that. Orlin enjoyed seeing her smile. He enjoyed listening to her laugh. There wasn’t enough laughing in Derleth. The general atmosphere was lonely and oppressive. Orlin tried to maintain his naturally upbeat positivity, but it wasn’t easy. And whenever he did try to interrupt a conversation, usually in the dining hall, with a bit of optimism, he was quickly shot down. He didn’t blame anyone for being melancholy. There was a lot about their existence in Derleth that was depressing. And he hadn’t even been there that long. He couldn’t imagine how challenging it was for those who were coming up on a year of perpetual resets. But he had to keep what little joy he could find in this place. And seeing Elsa also forget, if only for a moment, that they were living in a harsh, unforgiving environment motivated him to keep up his confidence that they would find a place of happiness in this pocket dimension. They just had to be patient. They just had to have faith in each other. “Your laugh is like little bells. And you’re more beautiful than a Samarian sunset.” Orlin ran his thumbs along the side of her face, following the curvature of her cheeks and jaw. “I’m the luckiest person in the galaxy.” Yes, it was cliche. Yes, it was like something out of a poorly written romance novel. But Orlin spoke with such honesty when he complimented her that it somehow sounded less hackneyed. And if he wasn’t still afraid of taking that next step, he would have swept her up into his arms and carried her off to someplace more private. He would, eventually. In time. But for now he kissed her again. The same amount of enthusiasm, but slightly less giddiness. Slightly. |