Title: Three Ships, Part II - Words
Rating: still M
Ship: Mara/Marian
Warnings: more explicit femmeslash. but you know that, don't you?
Disclaimer: ....really?
Comments: Whoever gives me the best smushname for this gets e-cookies.
Exotic was one word that had been used to describe Mara. Unique was another, unpredictable a third.
Marian herself had never applied any of these labels to Mara, at least not aloud. She might have whispered them to herself late at night when there was no one else around, but she'd never said them around anyone else. They weren't hers to say and besides, what would have been the use? After all, the girl seemed to elude all description. It was best to let people see her and come to their own conclusions.
Besides, such terms were ill befitting to the scientist that Marian had become. Viable was more up her alley; successful; commendable. And those phrases worked too; they fit Mara's situation perfectly and were always on the tip of Marian's tongue, no matter what she was going to talk about. She spoke a language of Science around her peers, a speech in which frilly adjectives had no place and were not understood.
Of course, there were always times when the language deserted her and she reverted to her old tongue: that of the days when she was simply Marian, college student; not Director Janssen of Itexicon Corporation. It was the times when she became particularly excited that she wanted to be careful, as well as in moments of anger or surprise. Slipping back into regular speech was always quite an embarrassment afterwards, because Marian had spent her whole life fighting the typecasting that seemed to follow female scientists around.
Upon meeting Mara, Director Janssen had experienced one of those moments of surprise. Of course, she had known it would be a different sort of encounter—after all, Mara was the first successful human-feline hybrid ever created—but it wasn't just the shock of seeing a person that looked so much like a cat. That was to be expected, for the most part, though it was true that some of Mara's traits were decidedly contrary to the predictions. No, it was the fact that the girl, who had been quite a bit younger then, lacked refinement in a way that Marian had never quite seen before. She was, quite literally, part animal. There were times when Director Janssen found herself wondering if terminating the experiment would be for the best, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Surely she would be able to figure out some sort of justification for this at a later date. The concept behind Mara had been sound, and she had turned out almost exactly according to plan. Minus the few discrepancies.
Perfect, Marian had pronounced. Her colleagues had given her surprised glances. Of all the experiments they'd run, Mara was only in the middle, accomplishment-wise. And she was the first of her species, and she hadn't been around long enough for hardly any tests to have been run. Besides, even the most successful hybrids so far had not earned such high praise from the Director. How could this girl, who was obviously flawed in so many ways, be perfect?
She was referring to concept, the Director explained later when asked about her response. According to the actual plans for design, Mara had turned out just as she'd imagined. The possibilities of this project were exciting, and she wanted to see how far they could take this idea. The scientists had nodded their heads wisely and walked away in a daze, wondering if they'd just been complimented on their work and, if so, how they could repeat the feat. Marian had watched them go and then locked her self in her office for some time off. She needed to gather her thoughts again, because she was having trouble making her words sound believable at the moment. She suspected it was only the flattery that had made her explanation sound credible, and she couldn't risk giving herself away. She had an appearance to keep up.
Marian had learned from her mistakes. There was no way she could avoid seeing Mara—after all, she had to keep track of the girl's (no, the experiment's) progress, and put her through the mandated series of tests for all projects in her lab—but she was more prudent about the times she chose to visit. Mara was to be her project, she told her coworkers, because she needed something to do and Mara was available. Marian had also learned to control her words better. She'd kept quiet as she administered the tests, preferring to simply watch and learn about Mara. She was quite an amazing case, after all. First attempt of her kind, and look how well she'd turned out. Marian was already in way over her head.
Since those early days, Mara had only become more interesting. She had grown and developed as she'd been expected to, and now there was much more to her than simply perfect. Marian had tested Mara more extensively than any other subject, and what the girl had lacked in the qualities that were being looked for, she made up for in other ways. During this time, Marian came up with a few other phrases that might be able to describe the girl. They were words that Marian had never used before; ones she hadn't thought she'd known because they were buried so deeply. Mara had a way of pulling those silenced parts of Marian out, though Marian liked to pretend that no one had so much influence over her. She did her best to not let Mara know what was going on, and either she was successful or Mara knew when it was best to keep quiet.
For the life of her, Marian hoped it was the former. Professional was one of those words allowed in her industry, yet it seemed to be one of the ones that was getting less and less use lately. In fact, Marian was beginning to think that she was ignoring it more than those other adjectives, the ones she'd sworn did not belong to her. And that was simply not acceptable.
But, said a small part of Marian's brain that seemed to be, for some reason, lacking common sense, shouldn't it be a perk earned with status? Wasn't it only right that she should receive reward for her work? And couldn't she, for once, drop all the formalities?
No, was the answer, and no, and no. She was a leader with a vision; propriety demanded that she stay detached. She hadn't started down this path for her own enjoyment, after all, though she did love science. She was doing this for the people, her people, and she could not, in any way, be unprofessional.
No, protested that part of her as she examined herself from every angle (perfect, of course; she was always perfect), professionalism was not required, per se. Sense and discretion, yes, but professionalism was only needed in appearances.
That word again, appearances. It was there that Marian's (already illogical) arguments always lost steam: it was a barrier she could not cross. Even she could not find a reason to explain her longings; even she could not make the words fit the situation in a way that made them sound acceptable. These moments were always the turning points for her; the times during which she vowed she would shape up.
Of course, it was never quite that simple, and she couldn't seem to get her resolutions to last. It was so easy, when she was sprawled on the floor and Mara's head was between her thighs, to give in to what she wanted for once, and take what she called a healthy break for selfishness.
The only problems with that bit of logic were that what she was doing had no tie to her health, it wasn't excusable (another one of those terms that she couldn't seem to avoid), and it would have consequences sooner or later. Besides, selfishness was one of those things she was trying to avoid.
So how was it that she hadn't changed anything yet? What she was doing was immature, completely inappropriate. It wasn't like her at all, yet…it made her feel alive again.
What was the point, asked that part of her that Mara always seemed to bring out, of creating something perfect…of trying to change yourself to be that very same way…if you got nothing out of it?
Marian knew there had to be a perfectly sensible answer to that, but she couldn't seem to think of it. She couldn't concentrate now, when Mara was standing next to her already mostly unclothed, wearing only her skimpy undergarments, that hungry look that only she could seem to pull off correctly. And she tried not to think of such things at other times.
Only when Mara was present did Marian allow herself to think of what was going on: that was her rule to ensure that she did not get too caught up in the matter. Truthfully, that venture had failed; she had become so used to living as she was now that it was sometimes hard for her to remember how things had been before. It had become an addiction, so when Mara comes she knows that she'll surrender herself to her subordinate (and it won't be the last time, as she likes to claim), losing herself in the purrs, the scratches, the licks, and the growls that Mara seems to do all the better for her uniqueness. Marian has to wonder why she'd even consider giving this up, because there is nothing in the world that she would rather be doing in these moments, and nowhere else she'd rather be. So why was it that she could stay here forever?
It had become an addiction; there was no longer the question of giving it up. That was why, whenever Mara knocked discreetly on her door, Marian knew what would happen. She would surrender, once again, to her subordinate, losing herself in the purrs, the scratches, the licks, and the growls that Mara seemed to do all the better for who she was. Though maybe at one time she would have thought it would be the last time, there is no longer doubt on this subject in her mind. Marian would be left to wonder why she'd even consider giving this up, because there was nothing in the world she'd rather be doing at these moments; nowhere she'd rather be. So why was it that she could not stay here forever?
Propriety. Oh, yes; that was the reason.
If Marian were herself right now, she'd be embarrassed by her whimpers, by her begging (just one more time?), by her lack of control both of herself and of the situation. After all, she's the one who should be in charge. But she's not ashamed, because Mara obliges though time is short, and Marian doesn't have room for much else in her mind at the moment.
As Mara gets up to leave, Marian can do nothing but stare after her from where she is on the floor. Only once the door closes and the room is empty again does Marian move, picking herself up slowly to make herself presentable. She has things to do, that's right: a meeting, perhaps, or a less-formal briefing in the labs? Either way, she's a professional at this by now (and why can't that count for something, says that part of her that she tries to ignore), she knows exactly how to make herself look perfectly normal again. When she's finished with her makeup and her hair, she's covered up every last bit of herself that she hasn't deemed proper for public appearances. No one looking at her would guess that there was anything about her that wasn't ideal.
Which had been the point, she had to say.
Once again, it was back to those goddamn appearances.