Tickets to the Fire Caves
Teayl Thorn
((Unknown Alien Planet))
T’Fearne had been wandering the desolate, dark-blue plain for what felt like hours. The air shimmered with oppressive heat, baking her skin like a furnace. As the cerulean sky slowly faded to pale lavender dusk, she counted five moons rising on the horizon, their light casting strange shadows across the cracked earth. The land stretched flat to the horizon, broken only by the jagged peaks of distant mountains to the north.
oO How do I know this is north? Oo
The question went unanswered. She had no memory of how she'd arrived here or why. Only the endless, barren landscape passing by.
With no clear purpose and nowhere else to go, she began walking toward the mountains. As she moved, the ground beneath her feet seemed to shift—small fissures appeared in the surface, and from the cracks, something gleamed. Her curiosity urged her forward, and when she knelt with a crunch and a puff of blue dust to examine the opening, glimmers of light reflected back at her like a mirror.
Through the crack, she saw a woman crouched, clinging upside down beneath the earth, staring back at her with piercing eyes. The woman’s face was eerily familiar, herself, but more like an old holo of her paternal grandmother. But this version had an unsettling alteration: a disrupter bun savagely slashed through one slanted eyebrow and continued down to marred the curve of her high cheekbone. Her face was smooth, pale as porcelain, there was nothing but emptiness in the expression. Beneath the still surface of her features, though, something darker stirred—an inky maelstrom of raw emotion.
The woman’s mouth opened, and though no sound emerged, T’Fearne felt the vibration of the silent scream reverberate through her bones. The cracks beneath her hands seemed to vibrate with a terrible tension, a high crack and chime of shattered glass ringing in her pointed ears.
T’Fearne recoiled, scrambling backward in a panic. She stumbled to her feet and turned to flee, kicking up dust and the smell of baked earth across the plain. The strange reflection of herself didn’t follow her, but the feeling of being watched began to grow. The sky seemed to darken further as she sprinted, the weight of some unseen presence pressing in from all sides.
A voice cut through the air. It was familiar—one of her sisters? Rweemme, perhaps? Or was it Errila?
Dream Rweemme / Syrex: T’Fearne? Are you alright?
The Vulcazoid spun around, trying to locate the source of the voice, but no one was there. Her mouth opened to respond, but before a word could escape, heavy, green smoke poured from her lips and nose, spilling down her chin and settling into the earth like a poisonous fog. The smoke twisted and slithered between the cracks, disappearing into the barren ground.
A deep masculine voice, seethed with rage, hissed from right behind her.
Dream Polmuhk / T’Fearne::: murmuring, almost incoherent:: hmm… 1Nvimn y'kllhe… Iurret akifvi iebhe slhie taeth fvullh.
The words were wrong—familiar but distorted, like a foreign tongue that didn’t quite fit her mouth. She spun to look, her heart pounding, but there was nothing there—only the bleak, desolate landscape stretching endlessly into the horizon. Still, the sense of a malevolent presence lingered an oppressive force that seemed to curl around her, smouldering with ancient fury. He was there but also not there at all, and neither was she.
((T’Fearne / Syrex, Temporary Quarters, Level 17, Deep Space Nine))
Syrex: T’Fearne?
Syrex’s voice cut through the haze of the dream. The Vulcazoid shot bolt upright on one of the temporary quarter's twin palettes and stared blankly at the Trill in the dim light, her breath shallow. After a long moment, she blinked, cleared her parched throat and wiped her damp forehead, the emotions of a strange dream lingering in the air around her like smoke.
T’Fearne: Oh, Syrex, it’s just you. :: Coughing slightly:: I’m thirsty…
Twisting around, she pulled a cup off the bedside table and sipped carefully. Still waking up.
Syrex: Sorry, I thought you were awake, you were saying something, but I don’t speak Romulan so I couldn’t say what it was.
T’Fearne::: one brow quirked up:: Romulan? I don’t really speak Romulan, either.
She took another sip from the cup, savouring the cool relief of water.
T’Fearne: I know a few conversational phrases for getting by. it must have been 2Anakana. They sound similar. My sisters tell me I talk in my sleep sometimes. :: pressing palms to her forehead and then looking down at her uniform:: I just planned to lay down for a moment, but must have drifted off…I was having a very strange dream.
Syrex: No, definitely Romulan, but either way, I am sorry to wake you. I..
She was a little embarrassed that her relatively new friend had caught her sleeptalking, but the details had already faded, and she watched curiously as Alyndra scrabbled behind her for something and pulled out a tribble.
Syrex: ::Gives an exhausted sigh of relief:: I… ::Cries a little out of relief:: I’m so happy I found you!
T’Fearne’s eyes widened, and she instinctively recoiled, clutching the sheets. Quickly looking around her for what would inevitably be the rest of the infestation.
T’Fearne: Is thaaat a tribble, Syrex! We need to talk about pets in our quarters, friend.
Syrex: Oh no sorry, I just found my childhood toy, I’d been looking for it all day, I feared I might have lost him.
On closer examination, it proved to be a child's toy of some kind, but she didn't recognise the character or species.
T’Fearne::: gesturing towards the toy:: I’m glad you found your personal memento, Syrex. But I’m serious about pets. Please discuss with me first if you ever contemplate bringing a pet to our shared living space. :: picking up a wave of mint green relief from Alyndra:: Is it something very meaningful to you?
Syrex: Response
T’Fearne: Well, I’m glad you have it. I’m more partial to plant pets. Perhaps we could get something from our stay here on DS9 to put in our quarters. I saw a bonsai in the gift shop on the Promenade the other day.
Syrex: Response
T’Fearne: That reminds me.
She leaned over to her duffle bag, carefully extracting a small set of matte clay tablets with a dull clink. She handed one to Syrex. It was smooth with a rich indigo hue, a series of Bajoran symbols carved into the clay and a seal pressed at the bottom in dark red glaze.
T’Fearne: I got these at the gift shop. They are tourist passes to Bajor. The package includes a two-night stay at a Bajoran temple, a pottery class at a renowned craft hall and a trip to the fire caves to fire the pottery in a historically significant kiln. There is also something about a hot spring and a mud bath, but I was particularly interested in the pottery and the fire caves tour. I was planning on going by myself, but I thought it might be more fun if you joined me. What do you think? Free for a couple of days?
Syrex: Response
The Vulcazoid grinned.
T’Fearne: Great. It’ll be an adventure.
[Tags/End of Scene for T’Fearne]
((OOC: Possibly to be continued as a JP))
((OOC: 1Worthless worm. Silence shall not shackle my essence…))
((OOC: 2Anakana - The First Language: Most common for the five main dialects of the Vulcan language))
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Ensign T'Fearne
Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14