AN: A shorter chapter this time. Please note that my muse is out on vacation and I simply can't write without it. So there will likely be a few months (or more) until the next update...
Paint
The paint on Harriet's nails was peeling. She didn't generally wear polish but a fancy for it struck her late last night. She idly wondered if Vulcans ever felt the need to paint their nails . . .
There really was no logical reason to paint one's nails. Perhaps for the sake of various perceptions of beauty and beautification but really one was either beautiful or not beautiful and it was all really a matter of perception, not yes or no. Perhaps this was the beauty behind the Vulcan mindset: either things were or they were not; there was simply no need to worry over the levels of something as abstract as how beautiful something was or was not, only a need to determine if something was appealing or not appealing. Social perceptions of what was appealing appeared to be more action based and wasn't that hard to wrap one's head around: beauty as a matter of logical or illogical.
Really, as a whole, Vulcan culture was rather captivating – difficult to follow at times but that only made it all the more interesting.
Maybe she should repaint them a sandstorm kind of red…
Happenstance
Joe's had been one of those gem discoveries that locals generally kept to themselves. It was one of those places where you could come in, grab a drink, and be left alone while still somehow knowing who everyone was. Of course, she didn't know who everyone was by name but that wasn't the point.
The point was that 7 O'clock always came in at 7 sharp, ordered a whisky dry, sat on the far left side of the bar, and proceeded to glare straight ahead at someone who wasn't there for the next hour.
The point was that Ms. Sex on the Beach always ordered something else first, decided she didn't like it, then ordered a Sex on the Beach to wash away the bitter taste of whatever fancy interstellar concoction she'd tried the first time around.
The point was that the bar tender followed the golden rule of all true bartenders galaxy wide and asked no questions.
Harriet loved it.
Jupiter
Jupiter was the King of the Gods, of the Sky, of Thunder, and of Light, brother of Neptune, source of the symbolism behind the Roman Eagle, so on and so forth. Enough said.
Now, lesser known was Janus, god of beginnings and endings, gates and doorways and keys, of transitions, and of time. Time.
Then there was Mors, or Letum, (the personification of Death) and Morta (the cutter of the thread of life) and Libitina (the goddess of death, corpses, and funerals) and Viduus (who separated the soul from the body after death). Together and then some, they were Di Inferi – the gods of the underworld. Not enough said.
Not nearly enough said.
It begged the question: why was it so easy to personify a King, a leader of Gods and men, but not Death? For some reason, death as a whole took a village and as Master of Death, where did that put Harriet?
Purple
There was a lot that could be said about the Starfleet ships. For one, they were large. For another, they were rather drab. Grey was a beautifully utilitarian color, sure, but all grey? Unnecessary. Good steel of course was naturally grey of a sort and carbon composites, epoxys, resins, and whatever they used these days to make ultra light Starfleet vessels sleek and space worthy weren't naturally all bright and sparklely.
The occasional engine light aside though, it was just too depressing [and so was the lack of friends and family].
Not that Harriet imagined Starfleet had a need for a bedazzled starship. Still, the enemy blip would pick up the Starfleet blip long before anyone actually saw the other vessel so why not put a nice racing stripe or two down the side?
Surely a nice splash of purple wouldn't hurt?
[It would certainly take the mind off the pain]
Felicity
"Intense happiness" was not the phrase Harriet would have used to describe how she was feeling at the moment. Agitated was perhaps the more appropriate expression for this latest batch of circular thinking.
Spock had been gone for over five months and, frankly, she was torn. She enjoyed her work, sure, but other than silently, and rather petulantly while she was at, running interference with Death where she could, what was she doing with herself? Why did she feel as if she were missing something important, something big?
Did she need a hobby? No, she had a hobby (coffee!) and a job that allowed her to indulge in that hobby. She even had a secondary job that allowed her to indulge in her secondary (sometimes primary) hobby of 'saving' people. Really, she had a lot already on her figurative plate. So why did it feel like something was missing?
'Only three more months…'
… Only three more months until Spock was back on Earth.
Batten
It was like her magic wouldn't stop eating. Or, well, it was hungry and Harriet couldn't pin down what it was hungry for. There was also this sense that it wasn't Harriet's magic per se that was craving something ... more but that other part of her magic she coped with and did her best to ignore. Ever since her magic had merged with an aspect of what made Death, well, Death, the feel, the flavor of her magic had changed. There was an undertone now that was so uniquely grey and heavy and there and at times it made her weary. And uncomfortable, so so uncomfortable.
But this was different. This new, constantly moving, searching, hungry undertone was linked to something else. In moments of honesty, Harriet admitted it had something to do with Spock and how her magic had rolled against him whenever they met up for tea. In a moment of stunning clarity she even noticed her magic had a similar reaction to Amanda, just not quite as strong or as ... satisfying as those moments as when she was conversing with Spock.
Unfortunately, Harriet didn't like being honest with herself and Death was far from amused.
Kelp
Sea Weedies. That's all that kept going through her mind. Sea Weedies. They looked like Sea Weedies. Not that Harriet planned on saying as much to Amanda but dear. Merlin. was she having a hard time keeping it all in!
She was having coffee (thank Circe) with Spock's mother at the Vulcan Embassy. Amanda had only been on Earth for a few days, and would only remain for a month all told, but she and Harriet were already on good terms. There had been an awkward bit were Harriet realized she'd learned a bit too much about Vulcans but they'd gotten over that hump with relative ease. Now, she and Amanda had plans to keep up their afternoon coffee sessions once or twice a week.
Harriet lost the battle and promptly began laughing a nice, full-hearted laugh. This was what she was missing. This sense of something more, of Family.
Cow
"He who lets the goat be laid on his shoulders is soon after forced to carry the cow," or so they say. Harriet had learned that particular saying was more or less true the hard way. As a result, she generally found she no longer had much of a desire to volunteer, to be overly curious, to investigate first and think later. No, these days she was still curious but recklessness had taken too great a toll on her to be acceptable. It was one of the reasons she was so careful when forming attachments.
Yet, nowadays she'd also come to depend upon 'tea time' to remind herself of herself, of Harriet, and of Harriet's humanity.
She had to wonder if she'd ever truly put the cow down to begin with.
But this went back to Harriet being honest with herself and in spite of Death glaring at her, she was going to think about something else, something like –
"Excuse me, did you say we're having Vulcan mochas?"
Cranium
Harriet was just about done with her book on Vulcan anatomy and physiology. She wasn't sure precisely where it had come from. One moment she was working in her potions area, refreshing her knowledge on the proper usage of essence of comfrey, the next she was staring down a physiology book trying to remember where she had placed her potions text.
She was starting to get the impression that Death was trying to tell her something.
Even if he/she/they weren't, it had been a good read so far, full of interesting facts and the latest information (or so it advertised). There had been a lot of new terminology however, so she'd spent a near day learning to use the various research functions on her PADD. In the process, she'd discovered that you could take some of the lower level Academy medical classes for audit. She'd need a sponsor but the thought of having more hands on experience with some of the more modern techniques and technology was interesting, perhaps even, dare she say it, fascinating.
Copacetic
Spock was back.
Somehow, everything was as it should be.
Prompt: 10 random words
