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Love Under the Vulcan Sun

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Love under the Vulcan sun.

Title borrowed from:
[link]

Base image from Spartacus: Blood and Sand

She had been dreaming but now she woke fully and turned on her pillows in sleepy wonderment as a voice spoke within her psyche. He conversed in the symbology and picture-talk of the mind: T'sai, are thee awake?

It was the eve of her Koon-ut-kal-if-fee. At dawn on the following morn, she would traverse the Sas-a-Shar with her kinsfolk to the place of marriage or challenge. After a short ceremony, the link forged when they were seven years old would bind her irrevocably with the boy chosen at that time to be her future adun.

That boy had since become a man. Even over the distance that separated them, she felt the burning of his blood, his need of her: S'haile? Where hast thee been. I would help thee in thy anguish.

The preparation for just such a moment, initiated as soon as she could walk and talk, came to her aid. So ingrained was the training, that almost by instinct she added her strength to his. Together they smothered the conflagration that threatened to consume him. Eventually, the flames diminished though they did not die completely. Only the Joining could accomplish that.

She controlled her own concerns, secure in his regard for her. Starlight washed through the filigree screen that guarded the terrace archway. The patterned brightness illuminated the platform that she rested upon, but within her inner sight, the face of her k’diwa remained shadowed. Only his eyes gleamed hauntingly out of an ambiguous haze that otherwise shrouded him in the darkness of his disgrace.

Yet, she did not need light to reveal his features. She knew them better than she knew her own. She called forth the image of his lithe form crouched beside the dais, dressed in his habitual robes. She saw distinctly the broad forehead, the exotic face, with its high cheekbones. Green eyes peered keenly from beneath upswept brows, expressive lips parted in a knowing smile. Dark, wayward hair hid pointed ears, and brushed his shoulders in the typical style of the S'kanderai tribesmen he resembled, unpredictable as a wild sehlat or perhaps a desert storm looming on the horizon. Truly they were k'hat'n'dlawa, each of them part of the other's heart and mind, two halves of the same whole. Even before their bonding as children, her soul recognised his. Their katras had converged before. So it had been from the Beginning, a'Tha knew.

Distance had no meaning in the country of the mind. Though separated by custom – and the width of the Sas-a-Shar - they continued their acquaintance by telepathy, attuned like only a few before them to one another's thoughts.

While still a child, his nocturnal visitations had a mysterious air, as if her loneliness had called him up, an imaginary companion, a make-believe ally with whom she shared everything. With the passing of the years, his reality gradually acquired more substance; no longer did she regard him as a product of adolescent fantasies. When her parents had her attend the hall of learning in Ta'vistar Province, far from home, he became her closest companion.

Lately, because he came to her only at night, just before she slept, she had named her mystical S'kanderai tribesman Anarchya, the ancient term for Daemon. But he accepted the impudence with that same quiet enjoyment and jousting as he accepted 'S'haile' or, in unguarded moments, 't'hy'la'.

Although he had never asked it of her, instinctively she knew that he wished their mind-talk to remain a secret. Afraid of the consequences she never spoke of him to anyone.

Where hast thee been k'diwa, she shut her eyes, the better to see the image he projected. I have been lonely without thee.

Insubstantial fingers encircled her wrist. At the feather-light touch, her heart jolted. The pulse point in her throat throbbed erratically, shocked by the electricity of even that tenuous grip. Anarchya raised her hand, brushed soft lips over the tender skin of her wrist. He planted a ghostly kiss in her open palm. His skin, scented with the faint but distinctive cinnamon fragrance of the Sas-a-Shar, made her head spin. His glamour, emphasized by the onset of pon farr engulfed her, fired passions she hardly understood.

Beloved, he breathed beside her ear in a low, brandied tone, sweet Ha'lei'ha, my Lady of Flowers. Will thee be kind on the eve of our Joining? Walk with me for a time as thee used to do when we were children. I would not be alone at such a time.

She recalled earlier trysts with wondrous delight; they had conjured a world made especially for the two of them. Now, with the blood fever running through her veins, the desire for him escalated beyond any reason. With a thought, he created a portal. Hand in hand, oblivious to anything but their need for one another, they stepped through.
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Comments16
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LizzyChrome's avatar
Love your idea for ancient Vulcan armor! I always starved for more history and diversity from the various "Star Trek" species.