[JP] Lt. Tahna Meru & Ens. Doz Finch - Crossing Paghs (Part I)
Tahna Meru
((Temple of Iponu, Ashalla, Bajor))
Meru hadn’t planned to visit a temple while in the capital, she’d actually been headed to the gardens and the famous library, but…here she was anyway, some pull like gravity dragging her off the bustling streets, into the quiet, candlelit, incense-filled oasis.
This particular temple was rather renowned, with ample size to match its reputation. Some chambers were open to the public, others restricted, guarding relics both cultural and religious. Even an orb was tucked away, somewhere in the maze of inaccessible rooms. Still, it had seemed relatively uncrowded for such a significant place—maybe thanks to the time of day (there were no organized services for several hours yet), or the more visually impressive monastery nearby.
She took a candle from a basket at the front and found an unoccupied space to sit in front of a stained glass depiction of the wormhole, next to an older woman with short, white hair. Familiar with the religious rituals expected in such a space, but still not sure what she was hoping to accomplish here, Meru silently lit her candle, and glanced over at the older woman to make sure she wasn’t disturbing someone else’s meditation with her presence.
A frown—then a look of faint recognition, and shock.
With her own candle clasped carefully between her small hands, hillocked on their surfaces by the pustules of wax that had dripped softly onto them during her time in front of the glassy mural, Doz had been uncharacteristically quiet. She was alone, too, an occurrence that had become all too familiar since turning sixty-one. Alone, perhaps, but not in the physical sense; in the company of praying locals, monks and the occasional flutter of a bird, plentiful distraction was provided.
Tahna: ::In a hushed whisper.:: Doz Finch?
For what must have been the seventieth time, Doz had attempted to focus on her thoughts again, to “throw the anchor” on her mind and really do whatever it was people did in those places. Time had waded on, her hands slowly but surely turning into waxworks, until an interruption had arrived in the form of a woman appearing beside her, the gentle flicker of a small flame lighting up in her periphery—she gave a polite smile, until it too turned into a look of faint recognition and shock.
Finch: ::She gasped:: Lark!?
Someone Meru only really knew from the Skarbek dream, here, in a temple dedicated to a religion she strongly suspected the woman didn’t follow. What odds…? Meru set her candle to the side and offered her hand to shake, smiling with only a hint of awkwardness peeping through.
Tahna: Um, you can call me Tahna. Not Lark, please.
Finch: Oh god! Of course. Tahna.
Tahna: What– what are you doing here?
Doz could have asked herself that same question. What was she doing there? Other than being nosy and listening in to the mutterings of those around her, and blinking her eyes towards anything and everything that echoed through the temple as if something was going to happen, like a spiritual flashmob. But seeing Tahna there, all brown hair and brown eyes, it wasn’t at all what she had expected.
Effigies of the girl, downtrodden and rain-drenched, hung briefly in her old mind. Expressions of disappointment, of frustration and unease flickered there, oddly real and yet not real at all. And strangely, in the trench of her breastbone, her heart panged with guilt.
Finch: Well, I came here to sort of, you know…::She wiggled her head, as if that meant anything::
Meru nodded knowingly, dark brows knitting together, though to be entirely honest the older woman’s statement hadn’t enlightened her in the slightest.
Finch: ::Chuckling:: Actually, I don’t really know.
Something about that sentence struck a chord, dragged memories of Witherington to the surface, and the Bajoran frowned slightly, feeling…guilty, and maybe lost. The first real interaction she had with the woman who she only really knew as Gramma (who her Skarbek self had started to think of almost as family), and she was interrupting an attempted meditation, or prayer, or something. Terribly impolite, but there was nothing for it now but to stumble on.
Tahna: I guess a temple is a pretty good place to be if you don’t know what you’re doing.
Finch: I was given a leaflet from someone. Had this picture of a temple on the front and this line etched across it in fancy writing. "For those seeking answers". It's been a strange couple of years, so I thought…why not? But now I'm here and well…
A ghost of a smile played at Meru’s lips, but she reigned it in. She thought Doz Finch might have a hard time finding anyone in Starfleet who hasn’t had a strange couple of years, but it occurred to her that such a statement might not be very comforting.
Tahna: If it makes you feel better, I’m not sure what I’m doing here either, and I’m Bajoran.
Finch: Then we’re just as bad as each other. ::She smirked:: But something must have drawn you in?
Tahna: I don’t know. I was headed elsewhere but…I felt like I needed to stop here. Some folks might call that their pagh, or the Prophets, but…
Meru shrugged.
Finch: Well, you tell those Prophets of yours that Doz Finch has been sitting here for the best part of an hour and is still waiting for something to happen.
Tahna: Do you want to talk about your, uh, strange couple of years?
The smirk on Doz’s face softened, as did her features, and for a brief moment she looked down at her melting candle, its small flicker reflecting on the glassy surface of her eyes. It was tempting to talk about it, there under the dusty plafonds of the temple, it felt safe to do it, which was a jarring feeling for a woman who had spent her entire life avoiding negative feelings like the plague. But talking about something so personal, so raw, and with someone so young and full of life… made her chest feel like barbed wire.
She turned back to the girl, her smile now slight, and instead wrinkled her nose.
Finch: I’d rather hear more about this “pagh”. What is it? How do I get one!?
Tahna: ::Smiling:: You've already got one! Your pagh is like your katra, or your soul. It's the life force of every living being.
Finch: Oh I see, I see! So what you’re saying is, your pagh is my pagh and my pagh is your pagh. As in, we’re all one?
Tahna: Well, uh…not exactly? Everyone has one, and in a sense your pagh might connect you to the world and people around you, on a spiritual level, but it's still yours, affected by your actions.
Some folks placed greater weight on the strength of their pagh than others. Meru…she tried, on some level, to cultivate a strong pagh, unlike her Skarbek alter-ego who really couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.
Finch: Huh. That certainly explains a lot.
She smiled knowingly as two Bajorans passed by in front of them, the lapels of their robes carrying an incensed aroma, and billowing a breeze into her candle flame. Briefly, almost specter-like, the distant and echoing sound of rainfall circled the gorges of her mind, as she pictured herself and Lark outside of a warehouse. And it made her think about how uncanny it was that not only had the “dream” connected them together, but how they both had also wound up in the exact same Bajoran temple, despite the odds. Was it really their paghs?
Tahna: I heard your first mission you flew the Admiral’s yacht and saved the day. ::She looked over at the older woman with a raised eyebrow.:: Some might say that takes a helluva strong pagh.
It was certainly better for the pagh than being taken hostage by pirates, or many of Meru’s mishaps, for that matter. She watched the wax drip, threatening to make Doz’s hands one with the candle itself, the flame flickering as devout Bajorans breezed past.
Finch: ::Her eyes popped:: Yes! I did as a matter of fact. Great big thing it is, ‘n all. ::She pressed her lips together with a pause, wax dripping onto her hands:: Flew the thing right through a load of kaleidoscopic clouds. Not a scratch in sight, thank you very much. ::She smirked at Tahna:: Hidden talent of mine, piloting.
Not so well hidden anymore, not after a stunt like that. It was a skill that transferred to her Skarbek identity, much to the gratitude of Lark. It seemed that, in multiple realities, Doz Finch had a habit of flying a shuttle in to save the day.
Tahna: How are you doing after…after Skarbek?
TBC
–
Science Officer
USS Gorkon (NCC-82293)
G239801TM4
&
Engineering Officer
USS Gorkon
C239809SH3