pNPC Ensign So'Mior - Anti-Fragile
Jamie LeBlanc
((So’Mior’s Quarters, USS Constitution))
Over the course of the conversation So’Mior had slowly disentangled himself from a guarded posture, hugging his knees to his chest and slowly shifting, pose by pose to kneel in a more open, trusting, meditative posture.
He was still tense, lingering in a space where he was half forcing himself to talk through this, willfully pushing aside the shame at having such deep running emotions; and half reaching for the lifeline Saveron was offering him with relief and need.
He always had two voices in his head – one grandfather who was the stern, though compassionate, disciplinarian. Expecting him to have control – even if it was lessened control – of his emotions at all times. And one who was the permissive voice of forgiveness, bidding him to be easier on himself, and to allow himself to express the emotions he needed to. Both were voices he cared about and who cared about him, from vastly different worlds. And he always walked a tightrope between them.
He could express emotions freely, but then feel a deep seated shame. He could control emotions but feel them well up inside, festering. And he understood that the best of all options was to process emotions, understand them, come to peace with them and not let them control him. Which was a process that took time, and practice.
One he got started, however, the words kept flowing.
So’Mior: She hurt them. ::His words started to come faster now. Faster and with a rising tide.:: She hurt me. She hurt and killed and she enjoyed it! She let me know she enjoyed it. She liked causing pain. She wanted to cause pain. She wanted to hurt people. She hurt people. She hurt me and she relished every moment of it, and I felt her pleasure in my mind while I was enduring her pain!
The disconnect was hot and raw; and the worst part for him was the intimacy of her pleasure. Her twisted, monstrous pleasure layered over the pain. He had a high pain threshold, and would have recovered better and faster had the wounds been purely physical. But the touch of a diseased mind had sunk in like an infection and now his own mind was raging with a fever, trying to fend off the alien emotions and thoughts.
Saveron: And no one should have that kind of contact forced on them.
No. They shouldn’t. To that So’Mior would eagerly agree.
So’Mior: She thought I deserved it. ::He said with the certainty of someone who had another mind intimately connected to his own.:: Because I was weak. Too weak to fight her off. ::He paused, dragging in a shattered breath.:: I don’t think I deserved it. No one deserved it. ::his voice cracked and fell to a whisper.:: I don’t deserve it.
He had fought back that far. He could override her. It was painful, because it forced him to stare the remnants of her sick memories and emotions down, call them out and try to purge them. And just like a physical illness the purging was often one of the most painful parts.
But it also brought relief and healing in its wake.
Being given permission to grieve was a vital first step in getting to the point where he could stare those foreign thoughts down and force them away.
Saveron: No, you do not deserve it. You did not deserve it. No one does. The majority of the citizens of the Federation would not have been able to fend her off. ::He took a shallow breath.:: She played on your insecurities, which was more cruelty.
So’Mior: I know. ::He murmured.:: I was I did not have them, but I cannot deny them
He took his hands away from his head, releasing the pressure and letting his head hand down as breath rath through his lips in deep sighing breaths. He could not lie, but he would also admit that his own insecurities were raw and painful wounds. Rends in his armor that he wished he didn’t have.
Maybe, someday, he wouldn’t have them – or at least wouldn’t have as many. But for the moment he had enough that his mental armor looked like swiss cheese.
Saveron: We all have insecurities. ::He said simply.:: I know that I do. And regrets; choices that I might have made differently, with the wisdom of hindsight. But we don’t have that luxury. We are here, and this is now.
He looked up, listening. That, to him, felt like sage words from a mentor.
So’Mior: We are here, this is now.
He repeated it, confirming – affirming – the thought in his mind. His voice was not as strong as Saveron’s; but it had conviction.
Saveron: Shael is dead, and you are alive, and for that I am very grateful. You are an excellent officer, with great potential. You are also a fine Vulcan, and I suspect a fine Human, though I am not an expert judge on the latter. ::He laced his fingers together, trying to express what he wanted to say.:: You have met Saavok and T’Sera. Had I made different choices in the past, I would likely have another child, very close to your age. If you were that child, I would be a very proud parent.
He blinked and for a moment he had what his Grandfather Howard would call a ‘deer in the headlights’ expression. It was one of the things his Grandfather Howard would chuckle at and say that it was ‘rather charming.’
Another blink and he recovered. At least enough to speak.
So’Mior: I.. I am heartened to hear that, Sir. ::Was that the best way to say that? He was stunned in the best of ways.:: Thank you…
He trailed off, equally awkward.
Saveron: ?
He met Saveron’s gaze again and this time his expression was less timid, more open. Slowly recovering from the state when the door initially opened.
For the first time in a long time he didn’t feel so alone.
So’Mior: I deeply appreciate it. ::a pause, he collected his thoughts.:: I welcome the support and the wisdom. I want to improve. I know that this is not the only mission where a Starfleet Officer can face trauma. I want to become more resilient.
Resilient was the word Grandfather Staron favored. Grandfather Howard favored a slightly different term: anti-fragile.
Not necessarily strong, but better able to endure the trials of life.
Saveron: ?
He dipped his head slowly, easily able to think of something he did not know how to solve.
So’Mior: I do not know how best to purge Shael’s thoughts and emotions from my own. Or, at least to push them from painfully present into echoes.
He admitted to himself already that perfect was the enemy of good. He might not ever fully remove her from his mind, but he needed to find a way to get her from the forefront of his mind, invading every thought to a distance echo.
Saveron: ?
So’Mior: I am willing to try. ::Earnestly.::
Saveron: ?
~*~
tags/tbc
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pNPC Ensign So’Mior
Science Officer
USS Constitution-B
~Julian Beck
E239010ST0