Happy Birthday Vegeta
Chapter Thirteen: Aperitif - a-pe-ri-tif - Fr. Pronounced "a-pey-ree-teef"
1. A small drink of alcoholic liquor taken to stimulate the appetite before a meal.
Gohan approached Sirabi, not completely surprised by her presence at the dinner, and undeniably curious about the female that could intrigue both Kami and Piccolo. Slanted, amber eyes filled with humor watched him cross the room, amused that she was being assessed, and keenly aware that this was the one being whose opinion mattered to Piccolo. He needed no introduction she had seen him so often in her visions. 'A mass of contradictions this one…. modesty masking tremendous power… a shy smile, with a glint of something not-nice in his ebony eyes. Completely unaware that he's at the crossroads of his destiny… A dragon in the becoming. The most difficult of paths.' Sirabi hoped she'd be able to ease his transition, at least in places.
"You are Son Gohan, ne?" Her voice swirled around him in an auditory caress and her hands reached for his, bypassing the formalities.
"Guilty." This smile, was the genuine Son article, without guile, that had been known to melt the gates of Heaven and Hell… let alone an unsuspecting woman's heart. Sirabi nearly gaped at its radiance, and might have, if it hadn't also been broadcasting his agony. The others had been fooled, but her gasp, was stolen not by the beauty of his smile, but by the tremendous conflict, the sheer weight of his guilt. Oh! This child thought he was irretrievable! Amber eyes warmed with alarm. No one, is without grace. Least of all this boy who had yet to reach manhood, whose crimes she could count on one hand. She snapped her stunned mouth shut and stared fearlessly into his eyes.
"Not, in the least," She replied surely, with an emphatic shake of her braided head. "But if you insist on absolution, perhaps you should become a Solar Priest. They have the rites of forgiveness down to an art they do them so frequently." Her smile was thin and angry. Gohan blinked, confused. "What?!"
She could not possibly be referring to the events of the last several days? No way in hell.
Sirabi repressed a sigh. It was truly a blessing that she had other gifts, because admittedly, most times she had the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
"I refer to exactly that, Son Gohan." She held his gaze, hesitant to allow him to brush off this crucial moment, "but perhaps now is not the time." She frowned. Even for her, this was tactless.
"What are you talking about?" The look on his face, was one of annoyed disbelief.
"Son Gohan, forgive me. We will speak further, but for now, will you introduce me to the others?" She motioned to the room, changing the subject. A frown still wrinkled his forehead, but he nodded and tucked her hand into the corner of his arm.
"As you wi-- ." He froze in mid-thought as his heart seized with a single painful thud against his ribs. His breath hissed from between his lips in a sharp gasp. Could he help it?! He could not. Not when she smelled like some exotic sun-warmed fruit that would be a juicy explosion on his tongue. His lungs demanded another Sirabi-rich breath, each one more intoxicating than the last. He stood forcing air into his lungs, one ragged breath after another… blind to his surroundings.
Sirabi was the only one close enough to realize that her escort had just suffered some sort of attack. Piccolo had never hinted that Son Gohan might have asthma… but his breathing was very irregular, and he seemed…very…tense. Concerned for him, she did a casual scan was nearly scorched in the process. His lips curved in a smirk as he drew in a long, slow breath of the lovely and complex Sirabi. Heavily lidded eyes opened slowly and she saw the dragon in the golden hue of his irises, face to face with a God. Then he blinked, and it was gone. Ebony eyes focused on her with great difficulty, like someone waking from a drugged stupor. His groan was nearly inaudible.
"Son Gohan? Are you well enough?" She kept her tone very subdued. He swallowed and a determined gleam replaced the look of pole-axed stupidity. "Fine." The rough grate of his voice, denied the single word he was capable of.
"Take, a moment." She insisted firmly, knowing how exhausting the birth of power could be. But he only shook his head, and moved her to safer, more populous territory. He brought her first, as he thought was fitting, to his mother. He smiled faintly when she bowed in deference to Chichi.
"It is an honor to meet one so dedicated to her children." Her voice was polished sincerity. "Did you know when you bore them, they would be the Earth's salvation? Each in his own time," she flicked a pointed glance at Son Gohan, "will turn the tide of evil away."
Chichi's sienna eyes razed the stranger's face searching for mockery but found none. She only found the one thing she had never gotten from anyone else, respect for her decisions, and perhaps, an unspoken acknowledgement of the loneliness of her sacrifice. She returned the bow and murmured a genuine greeting in return. She was saddened by the inevitability of the world, but suddenly grateful that she'd given in to her need to train her youngest son, despite the peace they were currently experiencing.
Next, Son Gohan introduced her to Krillin. Sirabi knew that the monk needed only the slightest encouragement, he'd proven himself time and again during his years as a friend to the Son family. It was about damn time he took himself seriously. She leaned down, her braids swinging forward in a curtain of shiny sable, concealing their exchange from the rest of the room. She placed her hand on his shoulder and whispered into Krillin's ear. Whatever she conveyed made everyone's favorite clown turn pale and sway as though his legs might fail him. Naked hope flared in his face for a millisecond before being ruthlessly masked with his usual self deprecating laughter. "Need another drink Gohan? I….know I do." He whirled around muttering to himself and headed for the bar. Gohan followed, pouring their drinks and staring strangely as Krillin downed the liquor and demanded a refill with a shaking finger.
Piccolo scrutinized the interactions from the sidelines with his usual placid demeanor. He noticed immediately, that each time Sirabi spoke to someone, they underwent a change. Encounters that began as ambivalent or outright hostile, ended in general acceptance. Kami nodded in his head. 'Empathy is the gift you are witnessing. It is unbelievably powerful when combined with her visionary skills.' Piccolo snorted and Kami continued to speak to him. 'Imagine being able to know a person entirely, their past, present, and as much of their future as it is possible to see… Then add to that, the firsthand experience of how that person feels about their situation.' Piccolo remained derisive.
'You refuse to understand.' Kami muttered darkly. 'If she were less honorable, she could have any kingdom, bend any will. Instead she uses her gifts to ease suffering where she can.'
Finally Piccolo shook his head. 'She'll need every 'gift' she has for what she thinks is her task.'
'We will see.' Was Kami's reply.
"What, did you say to Krillin?" The android demanded from behind her. Sirabi turned slowly to face Eighteen, saw the anger in the arctic blue eyes, and nodded, her suspicions confirmed.
"It is good, that you care for him… I meant no harm. He was only surprised I think." She murmured with a smile.
"By - what?" Eighteen bit the words out, and tried to ignore the sensations coiling in her stomach. She didn't know who this woman thought she was… just waltzing in and upsetting Krillin… her jaw clenched and her fists tightened, but she didn't give a damn who she thought she was. She, was no ordinary woman, to be overlooked and underestimated.
"By your love of course." Sirabi replied smoothly, nonplussed at the aggression rolling in tangible waves from the blonde woman. Eighteen gasped, as though physically punched, anger and hurt blazing in eyes that weren't supposed to be able to feel.
"How could you tell him that?! I -- CAN'T -- love him. I am not capable. Sixteen was the one programmed with emotions."
Eighteen's complete and utter horror and primal fear of loss plowed through Sirabi's shielding in a way the previous aggression could not. It blasted through even the reinforced hold on her emotions. Tears gathered and spilled for the android and she cursed aloud.
"Damn Gero! Damn him to a thousand lifetimes in a thousand hells!" Her anger at the bastard who had played God and created violent destructive machines out of these people… spiraled out of her grasp … Sirabi's body vibrated with the effort of restraint, but her voice projected calm in the eye of the storm when she spoke to the android.
"You, have only forgotten, Eighteen. You have been programmed, to forget. He," the name was a nasty snarl on her tongue, "was not so good that he could rip the very soul from a human being. But he was good enough to make you think he had." And she hated it. Hated the horrible things this woman thought she was.
Ignoring the tears that continued to pour down her cheeks she forced steel into her tone, "Women… love, give birth, and mother. That is what you are, before Gero, and after. You are a woman. You will do all those things…. and you will remember." Sirabi still shaking with the violence of her feelings, vowed to herself that she would fix this damage it if it was the last thing she did while she was on Earth.
"You're mad." Was the android's empty, defenseless reply.
Sirabi chuckled, and fought to escape the mire of hate she had so quickly generated. "More than you could possibly believe, and NOT in the way you're inferring." Forcing the anger to recede, she found in it's place, the deep despair that was always curiously absent from Eighteen's words. She drew a deep breath and steadied herself against it's anguished pull.
"He has already saved you, Eighteen. When he chose not to press that button." Sirabi's laugh was strained. "Incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid. I'm still not sure… but the results, are the same. Now you have to be incredibly brave, and trust him, and perhaps hardest of all, yourself."
The tears had dried to salty tracks that stood out on her pale face and her smile was subdued. "Give things a chance to work out as they are meant to."
"Who - are - you?" Eighteen echoed Piccolo's words and tone almost perfectly. Sirabi's lips quirked upwards at the recollection.
"By birth I am a healer. By training I am a Priestess of the Solar Temple. By my choice I am here to help, all of you in whatever way I can." Her smile warmed even as she answered Eighteen with carefully chosen information. She would say no more until she had addressed Vegeta-sama.
"She is a - friend, badly in need of a break." The Namek materialized behind them effectively ending their conversation.
"That too." She murmured gratefully as Piccolo took her arm and led her away from a shaken and pensive Eighteen.
"Actually, some air would be great." The quaver of her voice at the end was an indication that all was not well. She frowned and followed the Namek as he left the room.
The moment she saw starlight, and felt the warm breeze on her cheeks, she was able to breathe more easily. She sighed, and released the seething mass that threatened to strangle her insides. "WHY?!" She whirled on the unsuspecting Namek and exploded. "TELL ME HOW IT COULD GET SO OUT OF CONTROL, KAMI???? HOW COULD SO MANY HATEFUL THINGS HAPPEN TO THESE PEOPLE? They're just…shells." She broke and sobbed. "The boy-child thinks he is beyond saving and he has not even begun yet." She cried harder and grounded the emotional run-off firmly into the grass beneath her. "The android woman believes she is unforgivable…" She hiccupped.
"I really hate this part. That I can take only so much of it for them…" She slid to her knees heedless of the silk of her gown and damp lawn. Slid her fingers deep into the earth where the power of the mother absorbed and absolved. Cleansing her mind and making it possible for her to go on.
"THAT is the tie that binds them. They all think they are without hope. My God. That is why she sought the dragonballs." A wave of nausea swept through her.
"I have my work cut out for me." She said as she rose awkwardly from the ground, starlight shining in solemn eyes and glistening on her cheeks where the tears had fallen. She brushed her hands off and glanced down at her gown with a grimace, as if she could scowl the grass stains away.
A discreet gesture from Kami sent a heady pulse of power racing the length of her body, flowing from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, cleansing her dress and replacing her glamor, so she looked as if they'd just arrived. Hair and dress perfect, eyes shining, not… shadowed.
"Finished?" She prompted with a thin smile. She'd been waiting for him to test her…
Piccolo blinked. Uncertain what had just transpired. But he knew it was more than just an exchange of energy.
"You think you have your work cut out for you? You haven't even met Vegeta yet." His words were harsh.
"A good reason for us to return then, ne?"
He snorted and wished the light wasn't making her eyes look like shimmery golden stars.
"Thank you, Piccolo." She hesitated. "For seeing that I needed a break, and bringing me outside."
"It's considered poor form to collapse while meeting your hosts."
She snickered and normality of it curled pleasantly in his sensitive ears. "I know you don't want me here. It was generous."
He kept his visage blank as he recalled the tremble of her body while she dealt with Eighteen. "It was necessary."
She smiled at him. Perhaps not quite as much work as she had thought.