taxonomites | oo1 ↠ [holo | the Sanctuary] when the sun is drown in a deathly sea

The first thing that enters Gaila's mind is that it's too quiet. Silence buzzes in her ears, worsening her headache, and she groans as she curls loosely into the fetal position. Memories rush into her, and Gaila remembers panicked orders and cries of pain — there were flames, and the brightness of the Farragut's destruction blurred her vision; she can't remember the expression on anyone's face. She isn't sure she saw them.

For a moment, she wants to stay curled up and safe and forget the ambush, forget her injuries, forget her dead crew. Gaila knows better, though; that's giving up, that she could still be in danger; that knowledge twists her stomach, and fear chokes her momentarily.

So she raises her head and, slowly, pushes off the floor. She expects to feel pain in her arm, burns on her side, blood in her mouth — but nothing. She assumes she is just too numb and doesn't check her healed injuries; she thinks she knows what's there.

Gaila recognizes the room is not part of the Farragut. It's too dim, too bare, too clinical. She, quickly, takes note of the transporter and a tablet, sitting on a pedestal — just sitting there, as if it's meant for her. It's ridiculous, and she regards it as part of another trap. Still, she examines the tablet, flipping through modes and every window, no matter how unnecessary or pointless.

That's when she finds the map, with dots and names — familiar names. Commander Spock, Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura. Relief rushes over Gaila; she's safe.

Quickly, Gaila returns to the holo mode and pauses. Her throat feels raw, and she realizes she isn't sure what to say, besides shouting "HELP ME." She knows one look at her screams that loud and clear, though: her usually tight bun is loose, and her unform is obviously battered — singed and bloody. The dark green color of her blood stands out vividly against her uniform.

Gathering herself, she takes a deep breath and finds her words. "This is Cadet Gaila. The distress call from Vulcan — " Gaila swallows, her expression darkening. "It was an ambush. The Farragut is destroyed... I, I think the rest of my crew is dead."

Gaila's lower lip trembles for a few seconds, sadness squashing her relief. She's silent a few moments; the proper dialogue for requesting assistance is on the tip of her tongue, but she can't bring herself to speak anymore. She regrets beginning her message with the ambush.

"I need help. Gaila, out."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I have not, but it sounds very interesting." That was an understatement. "If there are other cadets here, I take it you have people to stay with?" He wondered if, once she got settled in, she would be willing to sit down a while and share stories.

And here, her smiles turns into a rather affectionate grin. "I do. My dormitory roommate is here, in fact." Gaila laughs lightly. "It's incredibly lucky."

Oh, Godric, she is always willing to talk.

"Very lucky. It's good you have someone close to you here. It makes things more bearable." He sounded like someone who knew it first hand.

Well then, they'll just have to make it a date.

"Is life difficult here?" Well, duh, she thinks. They've all been kidnapped; of course, it's difficult. "Anymore difficult than it could be, I mean."

"It's...boring." That was really the best way to put it. "We have all the comforts of modern society, but no economy. Therefore, we have no need for jobs, and also no need to build or create anything. Even most basic chores are unnecessary. We have to fill our time with whatever entertainment we can come up with, and try not to dwell too deeply on the nature of our capture. Which, as you can imagine, can be difficult with so few distractions."

Not for the first time, Godric had to wonder how intelligent their captors really were. Boredom was a powerful motivator.

That does sound disastrously boring and really strange for an instance of mass kidnapping.

"Sex must be a favorite past time here, then," Gaila says, not even bothering to filter her thoughts and remember her manners.

"It does have a way of filling the time," he replied. Manners, shmanners. Godric liked women who knew what they wanted and weren't afraid to ask for it. It usually meant less courting and a better time in bed.

"Spicing it up keeps it interesting, too."

Gaila, shameless? Why, yes. She is.

Well, while we're keeping things shameless...

"Have you ever had sex with a vampire?" That was really one of the spiciest things one could do in bed, according to a great many satisfied women. He only hoped vampires were looked upon more positively in two centuries time. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Gaila off, but there was no changing his nature.

In two centuries time, they are still legends in her universe; luckily, she is familiar with them through several Human friends. And more than anything, Godric has her interested instead of scared.

"Not yet, no."

"Then perhaps we can remedy that." He wondered what her blood tasted like, or if it were even safe for him to drink. He'd ask her permission to try it, of course.

So they definitely aren't legend... Briefly, Gaila wonders if her pheromones would work on a Vampire; they were once Human, after all.

"Well, it doesn't seem like I'll be leaving Taxon any time soon..."

It seemed they both had some experimenting to do.

"At your convenience, then." Godric wouldn't have protested jumping right into bed, but he suspected Gaila probably had a hankering for a shower, a clean change of clothes, and the company of her friends.

oo1 ↠ [holo | the Sanctuary] when the sun is drown in a deathly sea

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