Ensign Miaxdiso Avoi - A Frightening Filigree
D. Finch
((Primary Sickbay, USS Gorkon))
The pink serenity of Miaxdiso Avoi’s mind became tainted like a tincture of black oil in water; several voices vyed for dominance in distant echoes until a singular one pierced through, it was his voice…agonizingly hard to understand amidst the terrible fight he was enduring with his body, with his memories held together by threadbare strings. Then she felt something else there, beyond the filigree of his chaotic and pained mind.
Avoi: There’s something other than the pain here…he feels…so much regret. It’s…::she exhaled,:: so very, very intense.
Ruwon: Regret. What does he regret, Avoi? What did he see?
She felt Ruwon beside her, his presence doing all it could to quell the anxiety bubbling up inside of her soul. He had a reassuring tone, though it was marred by a sprinkle of other sounds less pleasant and more technological, machine-like. She tried to ignore the medical devices and carried on diving deeper, to remain stoic and level-headed like all good diplomats should be.
Avoi: He’s terror-stricken. His mind is…oh so difficult to read.
Ruwon: Can you go deeper? Find the memories of before? Ask him about his home, his people…
She lifted her chin to straighten out her posture, though kept her oily black eyes on the patient; his mind felt like a sky dressed in dark clouds. Thunder and lightning whipping across it, fierce winds carrying tormented wails beneath it. And the echoing! How could she possibly be expected to continue on with it.
But as much as she hated it, she did, the inner corners of her blonde eyebrows curving upwards through the ordeal; she called out to him, her voice like that of a small bird tweeting across a shrill ensemble, but all she could garner was a lot of the same. Words that lacked any meaning, interspersed, scattered like one of her jewellery boxes knocked off a shelf.
Avoi: He’s…sorry. I…I don’t quite know…or understand why. He...regrets his part, his...role in something, he…
Ruwon: Focus; his regret can be fixed. His sins undone. So long as he remembers.
Taeval: He’s feeling less pain, and the infuser is helping him breathe. You might find it easier to reach him now.
The Doctor with the curly locks was quite right. His miraculous injection, or whatever wonderful and perhaps temporary medicine he had delivered, had helped. The raging superstorm calmed, the clouds mollified to something more bearable, less violent, less loud. It still felt cold, and the pain…the pain still swelled there, like soundless flashes from above, but now she could hear his voice clearer than before.
His beautiful but filled with remorse voice.
Avoi: We can hear each other now.
Ruwon: Response
Taeval: I don’t think you have much longer, ::softly spoken as always, his green eyes on the monitors.:: He looks like he’s entering slow delta-alpha patterns—he’s falling unconscious.
Her telepathic voice, melodious though weaker than normal, called out to him once again. He replied though it was blighted still, as if very far away.
The soothing voices of Ruwon and Taeval served as gentle reminders that she had to try to clear up the words, to understand who he was and why he felt such overwhelming and intense regret.
What would her mother have done in that situation? Demand he spoke with her? Miaxdiso didn’t have that sort of fire power. And he was suffering! He needed…gentleness. A…feeling of comfort, of safety. But oh! How could she give him that?
What if it had been an ambassador? What might she have started with?
Perhaps a name?
~ Who are you? ~
Avoi: Six of…no…he’s trying to find his…trying to remember, he…keeps going back to six of…no. He knows it...he is…Denshar. Keibren Denshar.
Ruwon / Taeval: Response
He felt alone. He felt cold. Not like she had felt when caught in the splintering Idridian rain after her twenty-first birthday, in nothing but her crystal teal gown and tiara—no, he felt so, so much worse than that. Shiveringly so. And he sounded…scared and lost. Oh it was so utterly terrible!
She continued calling out to him, asking him questions as his voice reeled off endlessly, reverberating, overlapping, switching now and then between his sense of self and the guttural concert of a remnant Hive Mind on playback somewhere deeper in the background.
The blonde Betazoid's eyelashes quivered.
Avoi: There’s something else…another word he keeps…repeating.
~ I’m sorry, Keibren. Please say it one more time. ~
Ruwon / Taeval: Response
She felt his mind darkening, his voice disappearing. Her breath caught a few times, each inhale strained.
Avoi: There's a…a place. He was there. ::She paused.:: It's…It's New Cyndriel.
Ruwon / Taeval: Response
Diplomatic Officer
USS Gorkon NCC-82293
Simmed by
Assistant Chief Engineer
USS Gorkon NCC-82293
C239809SH3