I need to get something out of the way.
I appreciate it when you add me to your favourites list or update list, or even when you add me to your face authors, but could you please review? When I compare the ratio of alerts to reviews, I'm shocked. I swear, I mean I'm writing here, and you all are reading. Even if you didn't like it, the least you could do is drop me a review and tell me, so next time I can be better and you can enjoy more! Because I feel very strongly about some of the stuff I put up here. I'd like to know if my work is fulfilling its purpose or not… It doesn't take that much to review, you know? Just review it™. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, let it be known that it is deeply appreciated.
Feel free to copy the above rant into your chapters/profile if you want to make the same point to your readers.
Anyway, Chappie Tres! I still own nothing.
.~*Three*~.
Jim Kirk was getting to be rather good at diplomatic missions. His success rate was increasing exponentially. This resulted in him having to attend an increasing number of social-diplomatic events, which he hated. It was the only downside to diplomacy, really.
He hated getting dressed in stiff outfits and dancing with stiff ladies and men in stiff situations with stiff conversation about stiff topics. To sum it up, diplomatic balls were stiff, and they fucking sucked.
This one, however, was different. This one was almost fun.
More than a diplomatic event or a ball organized for them, this looked and felt like a local ball organized in honor of the local god of creation, and it felt much-better than being the centre of all that attention. Well, he didn't hate it, to any degree. He just didn't like it. He didn't like being 'special' for doing his job. He felt like he didn't deserve it, or something.
Either way, he just liked this informal setting.
The dance was being held in an open-aired square, lit entirely by gigantic fires in the four corners and the centre. Millions of stars were visible in the open skies above, and it was a breathtaking sight, the dark-blue un-touchability and distance of the stars tainted gold by the flames that flickered so far below, where they were, so close to them that the heat scorched Jim's fingertips.
The locals were dressed in traditional garb. Females wore long ankle-length skirts red and orange in colour, and long flowy tops of yellow and gold. They looked like a mass of richly pigmented flowers, then dripping in fine gold jewellery. The men were dressed in similarly coloured tunics and pants which were just as flowy. Spock briefly thought that they did not understand the meaning of restraint, but reconsidered; to each his own.
The dance began, and almost simultaneously everyone in the yard began moving, gently at first, swaying and floating like petals in the wind. But as drums began pounding faster, their bare feet began tapping out quicker patterns on the uneven red-stone floor. They began spinning and orbiting the large central fire, much like the planets and their sun. Small children dressed in flowy garb, only silver in colour and they began spinning and orbiting the adults, and keeping in time with the grand orbit around the central fire like moons.
The ladies' hands were alternating between in the air above their long flowing hair and flicking their skirts sharply in the opposite direction, and then they would start spinning counterclockwise while their male counterparts spun clockwise. Their hands and legs were adorned with gold bracelets covered in tiny chiming bells. The striking contrast between the rhythmic pounding of the drums and the delicate jangle of the bells was beautiful.
The music went faster and faster and the people kept in time, spinning and circling and Spock was amazed that they did not experience a decentralization of gravity, resulting in imbalance and generally uncoordinated movement (read: get dizzy).
It was amazing, in a word. It was truly breath-taking. From his vantage point slightly above, the courtyard was ablaze with movement and colour, the ends of their clothes flickering and their jewellery flashing sparks. The people spun faster and faster until they weren't bodies anymore but tendrils of the fire, the flames which had spread across the whole of the courtyard like a hungry lick of flame across a pool of oil or old parchment.
It was breathtaking; he could almost feel the heat from the crowd in the chill of the night.
He wished Jim could see this. But his Captain was now most likely accompanying some beautiful young local to her bed, or somewhere in a garden engaging in pleasures of the flesh. Spock suppressed the following thought which involved Jim, himself and the aforementioned pleasures of the flesh. He shivered.
Such hedonistic thoughts were unacceptable.
But there was a slight commotion below, and his attention was drawn. He suddenly saw the unmistakable gold of Jim's hair, which in this case was perfectly appropriate in a group of people imitating fire. Without much further ado, he joined it, and began the dance as if he had known it his whole life.
Each step was flawless; assured and confident. He never seemed to falter or forget a step, and never seemed to lose balance in the dizzying crowd with their confusing steps. Never once did he bump into anyone else (like Spock was sure he would have). He mingled, touching hands and hips and legs intimately, flashing beautiful smiles at everyone, and Spock found it impossible to look away.
To Spock he didn't blend into the crowd like the rest; he stayed distinct, a separate, glorious being that only swayed in time to the music like everyone else. In all other aspects he was uniquely Jim, and perfect as he was.
Not for the first time Spock wished he was down there, part of the crowd that could touch Jim, that could feel his soft hair and touch his cool skin and perhaps kiss his sweet lips. But he would forever be here, aloof as Just Spock, Jim's best friend and first officer. He would never be one with Jim, not at the risk of losing this beautiful friendship that they shared. He would forever remain Just-Spock.
How many times had he heard Jims' denials when McCoy accused him of behaving irrationally towards Spock? How many times had he denied sexual relations with Spock infront of admirals and other superior figures? He was Just-Spock.
He couldn't help but question the logic in these thoughts. Obviously they caused him only pain, and they would result in no improvement in his current relationship with Jim. It was illogical to continue thinking about the situation. It would be better if he focused on the festival afore him, a ritual he would not likely see again.
Suddenly Jim caught his eye and grinned. It was only for a split second, as in the next second Jim was spinning and dancing again, looking elsewhere. But he knew Jim had been looking at him and him alone, not at the rest of the crew around him. The knowledge caused electric shocks to ran down Spock's spine, scorching him inside and out. If one look did this to Just-Spock, what would it do to… He couldn't continue the thought. But maybe, maybe…
Maybe being Just-Spock would be enough.
.~*~.
Well? Good? Bad? Tomatoes or Reviews? Please throw reviews? Please? Pwetty please with sugar sprinkles and Spocks on top?
I love you, not only for what you are, But for what I am when I am with you
Love,
Lady Merlin