Lt JG Braya - Getting Some Air

[Braya of Clan Ralnek]

((Outdoor Promenade, Federation Headquarters | Bolarus IX))

The din of voices and music died behind her as the ballroom doors hissed shut and sealed with a click. In their wake, the silence felt somehow even louder. Perhaps it was just the annoyance of being caught with nothing to mute the voice inside her head. 

Not slowing her pace, Braya stalked until the polished floors of the sparkling Federation building yielded to crisp evening air and starlight. A breeze pulled at her coat, which she tugged tight. In doing so, her hand disappeared inside a pocket and came back with a metal flask. Her thumb spun the cap loose on instinct, like she already knew where this was going. 

oO Easy, Hotwire. Oo

A pause and Elor’s voice, too damn kindhearted for his own good, cut into her thoughts. ‘This isn’t the best time’. With a bitter grunt, she lifted the flask anyway. What better time could there be? Then she stopped, hovering it just short of her lips, where the fumes tickled her nose.   

She wanted it. Not the taste of it or the torch in her throat, but the empty, blessed, and blissful nothing that would come after just a few more swallows. This, she considered, would have been a far better reason to give to Kettick. 

The hand on the flask trembled, and she lowered it, jaw tight with frustration. Her other hand came up and dragged fingers down her face, stopping at her chin, holding it as she stared out at the sparkle of the city at night. Maybe, just maybe, she could abolish her thoughts and feelings with willpower alone. 

To her chagrin, it did not even slow them down, and her stomach curled. Leather boots hit the promenade pathways as she paced them, jagged pieces inside herself rubbing together raw. And her grip tightened on the flask. 

oO I didn’t mean for any o’ this. To hurt you. But it don’t matter none. Oo

Wind whistled down the alley of trees and closed storefronts, making her grab her coat again, and look down at herself. At the gala outfit that still didn’t quite suit her, despite her trying. Like a dancing bear, pretending to be something it isn’t. The flask lifted again. Higher, this time, the rim of it brushing her lip. 

oO Just one? Just to take the edge off. Oo

Elor’s voice echoed in her head again, and Braya squeezed her eyes shut. For a breath, she looked to ignore it, tip the flask back and down the whole thing. 

Instead she exhaled sharply, glowered, and leaned forward with one forearm against a cold railing. Winding back with the other arm, she aimed to throw the flask through a window below, but something quieted her. The grip of her hand loosened, and her arm fell limp by her side, unsure what to do with itself anymore. 

The night pressed in, and growing gusts of wind served to mask some of Drex’s footfalls, such that she didn’t hear him coming until he was nearly upon her. 

Braya: ::Not turning to see who was there:: I didn’t drink it, Elor. On the stars, I didn’t. 

Drex: Response?

oO By the ancestors! Oo

Braya: ::Turning, and making an effort to stand at something resembling attention:: Commander. Apologies. Though y’were Lieutenant Letek. 

Drex: Response?

===

Lt. JG Braya of Clan Ralnek

HCO

USS Eagle

E240205B13