![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Annealed but to What? (4304 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: TOS - Dwellers in the Crucible - Margaret Wander Bonanno
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: T'Shael, Amanda Grayson, Cleante al-Faisal
Additional Tags: Female-Centric
Summary:
Chapter Two is new with 1,041 words.
Tell me about your parents. I've told you about Mother, and the stories she told me about my father.
T'Shael even remembered Cleante's provisional words on that matter, if she remembered the correct one and wondered at the need to know more of T'Shael's family. Was it to fulfill an emotive need for something she had lacked, or merely a course to better understanding T'Shael? Were there lessons that T'Shael herself could learn by revisiting the past of her childhood dedication to her father, of telling Cleante about the woman that had rarely been present, and found her daughter lacking?
On another day, T'Shael had answered, knowing that she would soon receive the few belongings that had been held for her. With the physical reminders of specific points in her life, it would facilitate speaking of the past, of the two people who had created T'Shael and shared so little in the way of common cause.
Love. Cleante had asked her to speak of love, once, before their abduction, of love among Vulcans, and now T'Shael had a firmer grasp on the concept, understood that yes, it was an emotion, yet it was also a duty and choice. She had come to love by her own definition of it, with the need to see to Cleante's welfare, to share her life as long as possible, so that they experienced freedom and learning together.
Had her parents loved? Had it merely been duty? They had been traditionally wed, much as she had been to Stalek. Unlike with herself and Stalek, T'Pei would have known of Salet, as the man had already become a known entity with his calling to music. That they had never severed the bonds between them, even when their lives frequently left no time for cohabitation, spoke of something enduring, yet it might have only been tradition.
T'Shael consciously pulled in a deep breath, forcing herself to come away from thinking deeply — turning inward Master Stimm would say — and focused on true meditation instead. The belongings would arrive, and then she would answer Cleante's questions.
"My mother was a scientist, eminent in her field," T'Shael began, having neatly placed the holo-cube on the table after painstakingly setting it for voice cues to her script. The images were of T'Pei at work, conferences, even one aboard the ill-fated Intrepid. "She, and father, were from traditional families, and had been betrothed according to custom, much as I was to Stalek."
The image showed first the boy that had been chosen for her, and then the man at one of his own conferences.
"You didn't know him at all," Cleante said, remembering that terrible time of the burning fever within her friend.
"No. But I made it a point, during my time on Vulcan, to learn what he had become, to … what is it you say? Keep his memory alive? I believe he and I would have become as my own parents, pursuing our own lives, save for necessary times of cohabitation."
Cleante shook her head at that. "I mean, I know. In your culture, it works. Clan ahead of home, duty over companionship. It's still very odd to me, and … I don't want to be like that."
The last words were said with hesitation, and emotional weight, T'Shael realized, and had to take the time of silence after to consider the correct response for her human companion.
"I do not foresee a necessity of separate lives, until such time as you grow away from me," T'Shael finally said, before Cleante could jump up and pace, or perform some attempt at humorous deflection.
That got an impulsive reach for — and quick change of target — so that Cleante tangled her hand in the flowing sleeve of T'Shael's robe.
"Good.
"And your father?"
T'Shael remembered her script, and moved back to that. "Salet, master musician. You asked me once to speak of Vulcan love. And my father, I think, embodied that emotion, bringing it to his music, to his life in the perfection of instrument and harmony that he sought."
The holo-cube showed imagery of Salet in concerts, among the instrument makers, allowing Cleante a glimpse of younger versions of the people T'Shael had introduced her to. It ended on one of Salet in his bed, wasted by the illness, because that too was a part of T'Shael's experiences to share.
"Such opposites," Cleante said, and T'Shael could not disagree.
"My mother stated once that he indulged me, and she was not incorrect," T'Shael said. "But it was I to whom much of the labor of his care fell to. The community could only do so much, given propriety and privacy.
"I learned much, young. And chose to take the precision of my mother's analytical nature to guide me into teaching, where I could then foster the sharing of culture as he had."
"Which is how you came to be an instructor for us off-worlders, despite being young for it?" Cleante asked.
T'Shael paused, and looked at it from the human point of view, given that Cleante did know her age from discussion, albeit in very clinical words, of how T'Shael had not yet been fully wed.
"An accurate summation, yes."
Cleante studied the last image, one of T'Shael at a young age with both of her parents standing to either side, slightly behind her. T'Shael knew what she was seeing, that Salet had a hand on her shoulder, while T'Pei stood with both hands behind her, far more formal and fully Vulcan in her seeming.
"You are more than the sum of your parents," Cleante finally said, "but in the time I have known you, I can see the care for your heritage and culture that came from your father, and the adherence to duty that was probably your mother's nature.
"It is shaped by loss. I think you spent much time alone with your duty, but now? Now you can learn to share that, if you want, and we'll face the rest of it together."
T'Shael inclined her head, having come to acceptance of this in her soul-searching while separated from Cleante. In time, it would be another loss, but as with her father, she would face that ending when it came.
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: TOS - Dwellers in the Crucible - Margaret Wander Bonanno
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: T'Shael, Amanda Grayson, Cleante al-Faisal
Additional Tags: Female-Centric
Summary:
In the aftermath of Dwellers in the Crucible, T'Shael is attempting to pick up her life, as Cleante is away with her mother. As a Vulcan, she expects this to be a logical step.
In the meantime, Amanda Grayson, mother of the one whom T'Shael served for, has put in place further protections for the introverted one.
Chapter Two is new with 1,041 words.
Annealed but to What?: Chapter Two
Tell me about your parents. I've told you about Mother, and the stories she told me about my father.
T'Shael even remembered Cleante's provisional words on that matter, if she remembered the correct one and wondered at the need to know more of T'Shael's family. Was it to fulfill an emotive need for something she had lacked, or merely a course to better understanding T'Shael? Were there lessons that T'Shael herself could learn by revisiting the past of her childhood dedication to her father, of telling Cleante about the woman that had rarely been present, and found her daughter lacking?
On another day, T'Shael had answered, knowing that she would soon receive the few belongings that had been held for her. With the physical reminders of specific points in her life, it would facilitate speaking of the past, of the two people who had created T'Shael and shared so little in the way of common cause.
Love. Cleante had asked her to speak of love, once, before their abduction, of love among Vulcans, and now T'Shael had a firmer grasp on the concept, understood that yes, it was an emotion, yet it was also a duty and choice. She had come to love by her own definition of it, with the need to see to Cleante's welfare, to share her life as long as possible, so that they experienced freedom and learning together.
Had her parents loved? Had it merely been duty? They had been traditionally wed, much as she had been to Stalek. Unlike with herself and Stalek, T'Pei would have known of Salet, as the man had already become a known entity with his calling to music. That they had never severed the bonds between them, even when their lives frequently left no time for cohabitation, spoke of something enduring, yet it might have only been tradition.
T'Shael consciously pulled in a deep breath, forcing herself to come away from thinking deeply — turning inward Master Stimm would say — and focused on true meditation instead. The belongings would arrive, and then she would answer Cleante's questions.
"My mother was a scientist, eminent in her field," T'Shael began, having neatly placed the holo-cube on the table after painstakingly setting it for voice cues to her script. The images were of T'Pei at work, conferences, even one aboard the ill-fated Intrepid. "She, and father, were from traditional families, and had been betrothed according to custom, much as I was to Stalek."
The image showed first the boy that had been chosen for her, and then the man at one of his own conferences.
"You didn't know him at all," Cleante said, remembering that terrible time of the burning fever within her friend.
"No. But I made it a point, during my time on Vulcan, to learn what he had become, to … what is it you say? Keep his memory alive? I believe he and I would have become as my own parents, pursuing our own lives, save for necessary times of cohabitation."
Cleante shook her head at that. "I mean, I know. In your culture, it works. Clan ahead of home, duty over companionship. It's still very odd to me, and … I don't want to be like that."
The last words were said with hesitation, and emotional weight, T'Shael realized, and had to take the time of silence after to consider the correct response for her human companion.
"I do not foresee a necessity of separate lives, until such time as you grow away from me," T'Shael finally said, before Cleante could jump up and pace, or perform some attempt at humorous deflection.
That got an impulsive reach for — and quick change of target — so that Cleante tangled her hand in the flowing sleeve of T'Shael's robe.
"Good.
"And your father?"
T'Shael remembered her script, and moved back to that. "Salet, master musician. You asked me once to speak of Vulcan love. And my father, I think, embodied that emotion, bringing it to his music, to his life in the perfection of instrument and harmony that he sought."
The holo-cube showed imagery of Salet in concerts, among the instrument makers, allowing Cleante a glimpse of younger versions of the people T'Shael had introduced her to. It ended on one of Salet in his bed, wasted by the illness, because that too was a part of T'Shael's experiences to share.
"Such opposites," Cleante said, and T'Shael could not disagree.
"My mother stated once that he indulged me, and she was not incorrect," T'Shael said. "But it was I to whom much of the labor of his care fell to. The community could only do so much, given propriety and privacy.
"I learned much, young. And chose to take the precision of my mother's analytical nature to guide me into teaching, where I could then foster the sharing of culture as he had."
"Which is how you came to be an instructor for us off-worlders, despite being young for it?" Cleante asked.
T'Shael paused, and looked at it from the human point of view, given that Cleante did know her age from discussion, albeit in very clinical words, of how T'Shael had not yet been fully wed.
"An accurate summation, yes."
Cleante studied the last image, one of T'Shael at a young age with both of her parents standing to either side, slightly behind her. T'Shael knew what she was seeing, that Salet had a hand on her shoulder, while T'Pei stood with both hands behind her, far more formal and fully Vulcan in her seeming.
"You are more than the sum of your parents," Cleante finally said, "but in the time I have known you, I can see the care for your heritage and culture that came from your father, and the adherence to duty that was probably your mother's nature.
"It is shaped by loss. I think you spent much time alone with your duty, but now? Now you can learn to share that, if you want, and we'll face the rest of it together."
T'Shael inclined her head, having come to acceptance of this in her soul-searching while separated from Cleante. In time, it would be another loss, but as with her father, she would face that ending when it came.
Tags:
![[syndicated profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/feed.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
