Klingon dishes are also interesting but very stomach churning. (sick face) I doubt I would handle it myself if it existed in our time.
Chapter Four
On Your Shore
After clearing her throat, Sirella introduced us both. "This is Jadzia Idaris, Starfleet officer and an initiate of our own Curzon Dax. Jadzia, I introduce you to -" She paused there, obviously disgusted because of this man. I got the feeling that they were related somehow, and not on pleasant terms. Sirella looked ahead, no longer at either of us.
"Worf," she said at last.
I frowned at her now, wondering why she didn't say what House he was from, if not from Martok's. I began to think he wasn't very...popular, or disgraced. Either way, something told me that he must have done something disapproved of greatly. "Worf," I repeated in acknowledgement, smiling at him - again, he didn't smile back. What was WITH anyone I met not ever being polite as I was to them?
"Ensign." I gulped; I was not expecting the effect his deep, rough voice left on my senses. "I am Worf."
"I believe I cleared that up," Sirella snapped. "Now, let's have a seat since introductions are out of the way. Jadzia, as the guest, you shall have the selection first."
As I obeyed, I found myself unable to take my eyes off this man - Worf. He looked like a Klingon, dressed like a Klingon, but he didn't smile. I wondered if he ever did. I don't know why he interested me so much, but his intensity struck me as... "Ensign." Sirella's sharp tone snapped me to life, and it was back to the Klingon menu before us all, and I no longer paid attention to Worf, who sat across the table from me and on Sirella's right hand side. My stomach churned as I learned what was before me.
For starters, there was gagh, which was an equivalent of worms, always wriggling; it could be served as hot or cold, and I doubted humans would find this appealing - and there was a bigger version of this known as racht. Then there was roasted targ, as well as zilm'kach which resembled Terran apricots, but with the pits removed. Vegetable wise, one dish was the dark leafy gladst; beside it was bregit lung which I learned was served commonly on Klingon warships.
The seafood courses only just got interesting. Besides octopus legs, there were pipius claws which were equivalents of lobster and crab claws if devoid of shells. These creatures had been around since the dawn of time as other non-humanoid organisms. This particular delicacy was also called "tame" compared to the rest of the living Klingon meals.
"You don't fancy anything?" Sirella questioned, daring me and not meant to be nice. She was testing me again, beginning with the cultural delicacies. If nothing appealed to me, then I would pretend until closed doors.
I hastily reached and picked up the dish of claws, smiling awkwardly. "Not at all," I answered evenly. "Looks...appealing."
She snorted, not believing me and picking up the targ plate to get herself a great portion as she obviously liked targ out of everything else, including gagh and swarming octopus. However, I found it difficult to help myself and be as ladylike as I could, given that Worf continued to eye me but not in an offending way. He was just...curious, and I was no therapist. I could already tell he was just as...interested in me.
I found that Klingon food wasn't as bad as I thought it was. The wormlike creatures wiggled in my mouth, and it was so hard not to laugh because of the feeling, but at least the meat flavor wasn't as terrible. The claws were to die for, as were the zilm'kach. For our beverages, we had a smoking cocktail called a chech'luth, to which I was given a warning by none other than Worf.
"I would be careful if I were you," he told me. "It's highly intoxicating."
"Thanks for the warning," I said sheepishly, bringing it to my lips and taking a small sip. He was right; it was intoxicating. Very strong, but not burning as the firewine. The sensation on my senses was...remarkable that I wanted to fall asleep then and there and dream away...
"I think our guest has had enough," I heard Sirella say, waving away my beverage with a snort of a laugh. "We cannot have anything disastrous on the first night. Jadzia, has it been satisfactory enough?"
"Enough," I answered, dumb for repeating the word, and correcting right away. "It was enough, my lady. Thank you."
Worf elevated his face backwards so his nose was lifted and his chin pointed at me. "Ensign Idaris," he said, but I could not tell if it was meant to respect me or if it was purely in his nature to be professional, "you're not entirely accustomed to the ways of a Klingon." It was a blend of both a question and an answer.
I could see there was no sense in being timid about this. If Sirella knew the truth, then he had to. "Not yet," I answered. "But I am ready to learn, and I like any challenge to come."
Sirella stood from between us, signaling the dinner was over. "I shall be the one to take over," she said, "but it won't be upon me if you fail to surpass, Jadzia. This choice and any more to follow is yours to make. And any failures to make reflect upon your actions." I seethed inside; all of this criticizing my potential was making me angrier than I was before. I was more than ready to get into a fight now; maybe the inner Klingon I never knew I had was threatening to break with a fury. But that would mean broken bones on the first day, which I was not yet ready for.
I found myself looking at Worf again. His eyes were fixated on me as ever, silently telling me that crossing Mistress Sirella would be foolish. I had no idea what to truly think of this Klingon man, but one thing was certain: he was going to make my time here more interesting.
~o~
I was relieved to be away from Sirella now - for the time being, at least. I did not know what to do now, but I knew I could not just sit around. Perhaps I could visit the library and enjoy Klingon history, since I needed to catch up for the sake of it. I remembered so many subjects, even going back to the first Kahless himself.
To be in the library section of this great house, I felt a strange source of a sense of comfort to be surrounded by an archive. To be out and having wild fun was out of the question on the first day; to be reprimanded like a child was not something I anticipated, if I made the slightest mistake. I also knew that several Klingons had targs as pets, so I was expecting to encounter one if there was any, but so far had been no such luck. Targs were ferocious beasts, moreso than Terran boars. Sometimes, I wondered why such animals could be tamed to be home pets.
I hated feeling small in this place, but it was the fact that I was still fairly new to this way of life, and knowing my mentor had gone off to face his age-old nemesis with three old brothers-in-arms, I could not do anything - unless I prepared myself. Sitting like a weak child would not do anything, but just jumping into it right away would be a fool's error, too.
Something told me that Lady Sirella would not be someone I could look up to. But hadn't I already decided this the moment we met? Curzon was not here right now, so if not him and certainly not Sirella, then who?
"Ensign."
I whirled around from the collection on the shelf in front of me at the voice who addressed me by my rank. "Worf," I said when I looked down at the floor briefly. "You can call me Jadzia."
He cleared his throat. "If that is what you wish."
Was it my imagination, or was he as...demure as I was? He was not much of anything I expected of a Klingon. His people were very confident, very rough and all things honorable, but he was more restrained in nature. "Worf, may I ask something about you?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest. He took a cautious step back, not giving much of a reaction. His tone, however, betrayed his emotions.
"What is it?"
"What is it about you that I see differently than other Klingons?"
Worf's reaction was less than I expected, too. He remained silent, looking thoughtful as if trying to figure out how to tell me. Then he shook his head, turning his face to the other side. "It's nothing you would understand, Jadzia," he said softly, harshly that it made me step back by one. "I'm not welcome amongst my people because I am nothing like them. I may look like them, live like them, but there are certain things that mark me as the outsider that Sirella herself continues to treat me as."
It took all of my self-control to not gasp. So, he wasn't related to Sirella by any means, but that did not explain - "If I were you, I would not press me with anymore questions," Worf warned, now looking at me with hardened eyes. "Curzon Dax would say the same if he were here now."
"Excuse me," I said angrily, "but why wouldn't I understand you? You're not related to Sirella, are you?"
"No," he said simply. "But I am a...distant relation of her husband, General Martok. The man is an honor to accept me as a part of his family. I am not close to my true parents, Jadzia."
I lowered my eyes, a twinge of sympathy overcoming as I was not sure how to think of this other than to feel said sympathy for this man. I had yet to know more, but he was not keen on discussing it any further. "I will bid you good night, Ensign Idaris," Worf said, turning his back to me. "If you are tired of Sirella, then find me." I stared at him as he left me alone, but said nothing. Now I felt nothing but whiplash. First was he rude and distant, now he was telling me to look for him if I could not take the mistress of the house any longer. Now I don't know how I can ever follow this mysterious man.
But, once more, I got this much: he was a loner, an outsider, and I was with the challenge to find out what lay beneath the exterior.
~o~
When night fell, I lay in bed with a fur blanket to keep myself warm, but I could not say the same for the bed, for it lacked the comfort I needed. It did not provide what my bed at home did, or the ones aboard every starship I served, but the fur offered protection against the breezy nights of Qo'noS. I found myself looking at the great doorway which led out onto a balcony and showed the city, then the lands and mountains beyond.
My nightshift was loose, my hair wild with it, and for the moment, I felt like a princess in a palace. This could have been my kingdom, but when the sun rose, it would not be. My mother used to read these stories to Ziranne and I before she left us. She used to keep my hair short because she said long hair got in the way; Ziranne was no exception, either, and she hated it, but I was more dutiful and never complained. However, as we grew, I let my hair grow because my father and uncle said it was wrong for a young lady to be ruled like this. One day looking into my reflection, I saw how right they both were. I was a woman of my own right.
Cool breezes washed over the exposed sections of my body like ocean waves, pulling me from that memory of my youth. It was strange how a simple action of nature could comfort you in a place like this. My heart began to beat rapidly as it thought of how the blue skies would match my eyes as Trill's, but were there any true oceans I would find myself near? If there was seafood served, then a sea would not be out of the question. If I could find myself dipping into the water, watch the sun rise and set over the horizon some day, just to forget about the world momentarily in tranquility only to be interrupted by the calls of battle...
When I went back to bed that night, my dreams were suddenly plagued by a pair of burning amber eyes and a deep voice of courage and intrigue...as well as a handsome face fit for a warrior.
So, Worf happens to be a little softer in nature if still kind of gruff and restrained as everyone remembers him. It's not intentional to make him OOC, but the reason will be revealed much later - and it's damned big. ;D No spoilers to give.
