Westminster Quarters

Posted on 09 Feb 2013 @ 3:02pm by Raifi Zaren
Edited on on 09 Feb 2013 @ 3:06pm

3,384 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Deck 2, Maenad's Quarters
Timeline: MD02: 1800 hrs

[ON]

He'd had an interesting conversation with the chef. Nothing he'd quote, but then he hadn't been looking for an angle. He could leave that to Jool. What he had learned was that the man was a Polish Terran, had a fondness for loud rock music, and cooked the way opera divas sang. Collecting a generous sampling into a temperature sealed box that Pawlak provided, Zaren wandered down the corridor from the mess room, found Panne's quarters, and pressed the chime.

Maenad was on her couch, under a quilt, and half asleep. She wasn't reading anymore, she was just tired. For the first time in days she had remembered to take the doctor's hypospray for her progressed hemolytic anemia. Her lack of diligence in taking the doses on time was probably responsible for why she was so tired lately, but she shrugged it off. So, there she was, at 1800, falling asleep on her couch.

Just as she was about to make that final dive into sleep, her chime sounded. Who could it have been? It was probably Liyar. It was always Liyar. He was always waking her up; someone had to teach him better etiquette. Well, it was Lirha that one time, but she... the idea hurt to think about - she hadn't seen or heard from Lirha in an unofficial capacity for a few days now.

"Come in," she said, barely moving. She didn't even turn on the lights.

Zaren stepped inside and paused in the darkened quarters. When she'd invited him to hear her play, he'd thought nothing more of it than a friendly gesture, but the darkness... As his eyes adjusted, he saw her stretched out on her sofa, under a quilt. "Not feeling well?"

Maenad shot up, the quilt falling off her. Zaren? She reached for the lamp and switched it on, just to make sure. Yes, it was him. It was a good thing she'd remained in uniform; she stood. "Mister Zaren, I'm sorry. No, I am just a little tired, is all. How are you?" She fidgeted with her hands before trying to fix her hair without a mirror. "Please, sit down. Can I get you something?"

"I'm fine," he said, studying her, and took a chair that was catty-cornered to her sofa. "No, I'm set, thanks. You stay where you are. Did you eat?"

Maenad sat down on the edge of her sofa, legs together. "No, I was going to, but I guess I dozed off," she scratched the side of her head.

He opened the lid of the box and nudged it towards her. "Eat. You'll feel better. What's gotten you so tired?"

"For me?" Maenad touched the flat of her chest with her fingers. "You brought me dinner?" She accepted the box carefully and peered down into it. It smelled good, but she didn't recognise it. "What is it?" she smiled up at him.

"Some of the items from the dinner menu." He leaned forward, pointing out items, "Deep-fried Ferengi soft shell crabs. And spinach and corn salad. That's grakizh leaves there, with a lemon vinaigrette. A container of the sour rye soup that your chef prepares, and another of the tomato cream. And upside-down apple tarts." The stack of flaky pastries was impressive.

Maenad felt her mouth water a little at the sight of the pastries. She wasn't keen on the Ferengi crabs, but she didn't say anything. "Why did you do this?" she asked softly, showing that she was affected by such a gesture. "Have you eaten already?"

"I was having a conversation with the chef. He's apparently fond of feeding people, who'd have guessed?" Zaren joked lightly. "He also has a tendency to take compliments to his cooking as an invitation to send mountains of food away with people. I think he's lonely; his brother died recently. Last mission. He wouldn't say how; but then no one talks about the last mission. I'm not pressing. Anyway, he adores company - that's a note for you, if you're ever feeling peckish." He smiled. "So yes. I've eaten in the manner of a broad tasting of everything on the menu tonight and this is what he sent me away with. And I thought, well, you'd invited me over; the least I could do was bring you something delicious. I hope it is. Moreso than the lida."

Maenad laughed quietly; the lida was quite sour. "Well, thank you nonetheless," she picked up the fork from in the box and started eating the spinach and corn salad. After a few swallows, she set the box down on the table. "Would you like some tea?"

"Love some. Earl grey, was it?"

Maenad stood to get him a cup from the replicator. "Yes, from last night?" She passed him the cup, holding it by the rim so he could take the handle. She had a glass of water for herself, which she set on an upside down PADD acting as a coaster. She sat, knees together, and picked some more from the salad. "I am sorry; I know I invited you, but I passed out," and there was no alcohol involved.

"Late night after you left?"

"No, I went to bed right away," she replied, prodding at some more spinach. She knew it was probably related to her advanced anemia, but wasn't sure if she wanted to start talking about it. "I've just been exhausted lately."

"Is it worse when you're up and about? Have you been dehydrated lately?" He cocked his head to the side, "You're young, you shouldn't feel lethargic."

Maenad finished chewing, swallowed. "No, I feel fine throughout the day," she assured him. "Usually. I'm just very busy all the time," she swallowed. "This is very good," she said about the salad.

"Glad you like it. That's Trill, right there. Grakizh. He says he picked it up fresh on Vega IX. So you do like some of our food."

"Apparently," she said with food still in her mouth. She was almost done; Maenad hadn't realised how hungry she was. She drank some more water, almost finishing it, then set it back down on the table.

He took the emptied glass and refilled it at the replicator, bringing it back to her. It was a pleasure just to sit with her.

"Thank you," she smiled. "I said I would play my piano for, didn't I?" Maenad asked, finishing the food in the box. She knew perfectly well that she did.

"You did, but it can wait if you're too tired."

"No, no," she said, eating faster so she could play. "I'm fine. It was only a nap." Maenad crunched away, very ungracefully, in fact, though she didn't really care enough to notice. Finished after a few minutes, and after several long drinks of water to speed the process, Maenad closed the box and set it on the table. "Thank you, Mister Zaren," she smiled her teeth. She then stood up and walked over to the piano. "Now, as promised," she declared as she took her position. "Any requests?"

"When you said 'classic', did you mean Terran classic or - say - Trill classic?"

Maenad turned around from the bench, not knowing what he meant. She took a stab at it anyway. "I only know some old classical Earth pieces," she pronounced like a question. "Is that all right with you?"

"More than. But I don't know any of those, I don't think. So," he sat back in his chair with an anticipatory grin, "Play me a story, Maenad Panne."

She turned back around, flexed her fingers, and after a moment's hesitation, began to play. She played calmly, with a smile, and sometimes a frown, or with pressed and jutted lips. When the music slowed, she slowed with it, and when it rose, so did the arch in her back the muscles in her face. She didn't feel it necessary to say, but it was one of the few pieces of Chopin's that she knew by heart. When the final notes faded away, she lifted her hands and turned around to face him. "That was by a man, who might as well have been French," which pronounced in French, "called Frederic Chopin. It was called Impromptu No. 3," which she also said in French. "I am sorry, but if there is a story that accompanies that piece, I am unfamiliar with it. So you can make your own, if you wish."

Zaren had allowed himself to be lulled into the piece. He'd struggled between wanting to watch her fingers move and wanting to just shut his eyes and let the music take him. In the end, he'd just opened up and listened, eyelids falling heavily down to shut down any distraction from the sound. "Beautiful," he murmured, "there is a story in everything. That's what art is." He breathed shallowly, "Could you play it again?" he asked, rising. "I'd like to actually watch this time."

Maenad smiled awkwardly because she was trying not to smile at all. "I, yes. Sure," she turned back around and felt a shiver in her elbows. She now felt like she was being watched, which made her a little nervous. Trying to ignore her reddish cheeks, she started the piece over again. It took her about the same amount of time, but this time she made a few clumsy mistakes. She wasn't sure if Zaren picked up on them or not, but she certainly did. When she finished, she turned around once more. She grinned at him.

"You're a tremendous liar," he told her from where he'd landed staring down over her shoulder at her hands, "and a very gifted pianist. 'Not very good' indeed."

She blushed, a real one. "I, well, I wouldn't say that I am gifted. If I can only play one or two things really well, but most other things not at all, or without looking at the music, I wouldn't say that..." Maenad looked up at him, realising what she was doing. "Thank you," she gave a polite bow of her head.

"You're welcome," he answered. "What else do you know? How does the piano work?" Zaren dropped down onto the stool at her side.

"To list them all, I don't know if I can," she explained, once he had settled beside her. She wasn't expecting him to, but she didn't move when he did. She felt a sudden lightness wash over her, and her pulse become more intense. She turned to look at him once, but looked away when he looked back. "There are eighty-eight keys," Maenad said. "The white ones are natural notes, the black ones are sharps and flats. Sound is made by a hammer striking the chords inside. The pedals either sustain, soften, or make the sound richer, or louder. It is a lot less complicated than it looks, I assure you."

It sounded rather more complicated than it looked in point of fact, Zaren mused, but that was likely because the hammers and strings were hidden inside the box of the piano. He brushed his fingers over the keys and pressed down, listening to the different notes. They followed a wider progression than he was used to with the klavion, the sharps and flats limited by the lack of single key orientation that was available with the strings. Still. He pressed a few more, gingerly finding a scale through trial and error. It was a different skill set, requiring the spreading of fingers rather than the rapid flicking that was necessary for the klavion. "What was the first tune you learned?"

"Oh, I don't know," Maenad said honestly, her tone subdued. She looked hard at her knees, trying to remember. "I could play all sorts of tunes with just one finger, but they were really simple. I think the first piece that I learned, a proper piece, was Amazing Grace."

"And so you are," he agreed, still toying with the keys in various orders. "Show me one of the simpler ones?"

Maenad blushed a little more. "Stop," she nudged him playfully with her elbow, then used her left hand, her left forefinger only, to play the tune to Westminster Quarters. "Not as impressive."

He watched her hand intently, then clumsily replicated her movements. Winced. Moved elsewhere on the keyboard. Tried again. "I like the tonality of this instrument. A little soft. A little hollow. Beckoning." He repeated the notes, although he was playing in a minor key. "Still tired?"

"No," she half-lied. She wasn't tired, but she felt that she could be. "See, it's not that hard once you know the sequence of notes." She put her finger on the middle C. "The easiest scale to remember is the C scale," she explained. "C, D, E, F, G, A, B," she pressed each key in sequence. Then she played the Westminster Quarters again and looked up at him with a smile.

"Linear brains," Zaren chuckled. "I try to follow lines like that, but I've never quite managed it. Let's see..." he tried again. "So the piano," he said as he worked through the scale and the notes of Westminster Quarters. "Ballet. Not tongo. Roses. Plants of all kinds," he added skimming a glance around her quarters. "Animals. You're a collector. A collector of... life and memories. Not unlike me. I imagine your brain must be magnificent. Full of dreams and theories. Do you dream well?"

"Nothing to it," she said to him after he'd played the tune without any problems. Maenad gave a satisfactory nod. She followed his gazing around her quarters, not sure what he was doing, but Zaren looked pleased enough to not make her worry.

"I dream a lot," she admitted. "Though, I have never considered why I collect the things that I do. I think you think there's more intelligence than there really is." Maenad stood and walked over the replicator, where she produced a glass pitcher of water. "I like plants because they keep the air fresh and remind me of home, and I collect little animals because I like them," she explained as she watered her flowers and greens. "I mean, little as in models, not little as in small animals. I like large, exotic, ones," she poured some water into several pots before turning around with a funny smile, "Like giraffes."

The Trill nodded, humming under his breath as he began to toy with the notes between the ones provided by the Westminster Quartet. "Long necks," he murmured. "I think there is a great deal of intelligence associated with the appreciation of beautiful things. Apathy is a sign of an un-inquisitive mind. Yours is inquisitive. Therefore full of immeasurable potential. Therefore highly fascinating."

"Do you have many friends?" Maenad asked without thinking; another instance of her thinking aloud. She turned away from her plants, seeing his reaction. "You're giving me a lot of compliments," she observed with an obvious appreciation. "Are you this kind to everyone?"

"I try to be. Never know when I'm going to see them again." Zaren grinned. "Is it a problem? Being honest?"

"Oh," Maenad paused a little, her smile fading, then turned back to watering her plants. Somehow that wasn't the answer she was looking for, though she didn't realise it until she'd heard it. She thought that Raifi was being as kind as he was to her because he liked her, not because he was just like this to everyone. Realising that she had yet to answer his question, she said "No, being honest is preferred," she said, as she rounded her chair to kneel on the couch to water the plants on the ledge behind.

Zaren glanced up from the piano at the slight downturn in her voice. "I upset you," he observed, turning around on the bench. "You'd prefer it if I didn't have friends?"

"I did not say that," Maenad said heavily. "And, no, you haven't upset me." She climbed off the couch to finish the rest of the plants that led to the wall that separated her bedroom.

He eyed her, rising from the bench and crossing to brush his fingers down her spine. "I like people, Mae. Most of them. It doesn't mean I feel the same about everyone."

The gentle touch of his fingers on her back, hearing herself be called Mae for the first time since, well, probably ever. Only her father called her Mae, and that was when she was very small. A tingling rose up the back of her neck, beneath her ears. She slowly turned around, narrowing her eyes at his. She looked at his lips, then at his cheeks and nose, his eyes. "I don't want you to feel the same about everyone," she whispered.

"You're in luck," he whispered back, searching her gaze. "You're all angles and grace." His fingers lightly brushed her shoulder, then her cheek; his thumb resting on her chin just below her lips. "Amazing Grace."

Maenad smiled, holding his eyes. "Looks can be deceiving," she said back to him, her heart racing.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips over hers. He could never get over this feeling. First kisses were like roses under glass, precious and fleeting. Still. He bumped his nose fondly against hers. Beautiful. She was "Beautiful," he murmured against her lips.

She kissed him back, closed her eyes, and let him take the lead. She was still holding the pitcher, which was getting heavier. She withdrew, slowly, and finally opened her eyes. A faint smile on her lips; she looked at his, seeing some or her lipstick on his chin. "Let me set this down," she turned to rest the water on a side table, then faced him again.

Watching her with a sideways grin, he caught her freed hand in his and tugged her towards him, kissing her once more, longer, before resting his forehead against hers. "I'm only here until you all go back to the starbase," he said quietly.

Maenad's heart was pounding in her chest. She liked Raifi. She liked him a lot. She liked the way that he took her, how he was entirely without reservation, and how he was intent on pleasing her. But most of all, she liked his kindness. But, was it all just to get into her room? She didn't know, she didn't think so. "I'm getting tired again," she grinned, then kissed him back. She ran her lips over his cheek and the tip of her nose along with them. "I should go to bed," she whispered as she gently kissed his neck.

Zaren made a noise of assent in his throat as her lips brushed the sensitive dermal patterns on his neck.

She once again pulled back her head, holding his hands until he let go. "Thank you for the dinner," Maenad said, her eyes darting between his. She raised her hand to his chin and rubbed off the lipstick with her thumb. She inspected his cheeks and neck, but she saw none. "I would like to see you again, perhaps tomorrow night?"

Focusing was moderately difficult. The nerve endings in his spots had left him practically vibrating in the wake of her assault and he could only stand there, dumbly, as she rubbed his face with her thumb. "Yes," he murmured blinking a little myopically. "Great. Tomorrow." In the meantime, he was going to go find out if the sonic shower in his quarters ran cold. "See you," he smiled kind of goofily, then slipped his hands aesthetically in his pockets and wandered out of her quarters.

Maenad watched him go, her head swimming all the while. An odd smile faded into a peculiar frown after the doors closed and she stood alone. She looked down at the pitcher of water she'd been using to water the plants while touching her clavicle with the fingers of one hand. After several minutes she went to her bedroom to rid of her uniform, then went back out to her piano where she would remain for several hours.

[OFF]

Raifi Zaren
FNN Journalist
USS Galileo
(pNPC Lilou Peers)

Lieutenant (JG) Maenad Panne
Chief Science Officer
USS Galileo

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