Agua Mala | Com Ivanova, Capt Neyes, Ael'Riov Tr'Bak, Princess Xue'Daio - "Crescendo e Accelerando" pt I/II

Posted on 241511.15 @ 11:57pm by Commodore Rochelle Ivanova & Xue'Daio Nox Tr'Verelan

Mission: Agua Mala [BQ Plot]

Dinner was hardly a success, at least according to Xue, who sat tense and terse for the entire ordeal. The Princess seemed to have picked up on the tension brewing hot between the Vindicator’s command team and her mother’s so-called adviser. While she’d come to know little of the man over the years, Vrith tr’Bak’s appearance, while disappointing, wasn’t exactly reason for her own ire. However, there was little Xue could do to discern the source of such bitterness – especially with her mother watching the Commodore and the Ael’Riov like they were stars in her favorite soap opera. To say the reaction was alarming would have been a grievous injustice to all things alarming.

Those who had finished their meal had begun to take to the dance floor, and it wasn’t long before Xue herself had been pulled away by an aspiring young Makta looking to make a name for himself – he’d fail miserably, especially since it took the curious teen away from what was quickly, and assuredly, deteriorating into a complete and total diplomatic faux pas. A final furtive glance told her that nothing had changed, the players were all there and while one side seemed to bubble in amusement and fascination, the other side seemed bent on doing nothing more and nothing less than surviving the encounter.

Some moments after the departure of the Princess, and with the band beginning to strike up what tr’Bak’s sensitive pointed ears quickly discerned to be a classic Romulan waltz, he was quick to perk up and set down his chalice of wine. “Commodore,” He smiled cheerfully, “may I have the pleasure of this dance?” Not caring to wait for a reply, nor eager to give her a chance to find a way out of her new predicament, the Romulan rose from his seat, made short work of the table’s distance between them, and offered the woman his hand.

To Rochelle, the sound of his question was not unlike the sound of a giggle at a funeral; inappropriate, condescending, and morally bankrupt. Yet… She was there, face to face with the Devil himself and left, once more, staring at the hand he offered her. To say no would have been the quick signing of a death warrant between the Ascendancy and the Federation now that it was ever so apparent that the Empress valued the scabrous dog. To say yes defied everything that made Rochelle who and what she was – the choice was one not only difficult but gut wrenching. She could feel Almar and Landon’s eyes boring into her, watching them, and waiting for a reason to act. It couldn’t happen. Not then, not now. “If you insist.” She finally replied, feeling her dinner churn in her stomach as she once again removed the napkin from her lap and found her feet, pressing her hand into the Ael’Riov’s.

“Oh, but I do.” Vrith chuckled, closing his fingers one by one over the Commodore’s hand, ensnaring her in his grasp and carefully parading the redhead out onto the dance floor. Finding a moderately vacant patch of floor, the relatively cheerful Romulan worked with well learned zeal to bring the young woman about and gracefully bowed to her.

What she’d wanted to reply with was ‘you would’, but instead, by some miraculous grace of the Gods, Rochelle had managed to still her tongue. The ordeal was bad enough, adding insult to the injury would only serve to make it oh so much worse than it already was. She could feel scrutiny pouring over them in heated waves, as well as what she was certain was some flavor of death glare emanating from the Empress herself – and it wasn’t going to get better any time soon. Tr’Bak bowed, and she condescended with the curtsy necessary to begin a waltz.

“Rochelle Ivanova,” he sighed in a most enamored fashion as his hand slid into place on the swell of her hip, “you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

His words, and actions, in turn only served to leave the fiery little woman further unseated. “I can imagine.” She replied dryly, her own ‘free’ hand forced to gingerly settle on the Romulan’s left pec. No matter how much distance she carefully worked to keep between them, the stance of a waltz seemed entirely too intimate and uncomfortable.

“Ah silly me,” The Ael’Riov guffawed with a chuckle, “I realize how, as you humans say, creepy that must sound.” He beamed, “What I meant to say is that I’m impressed by your successes and I have been looking forward to meeting you face to face.” The Romulan added with that everlasting charismatic front remaining plastered across the fine lines of his facial features.

Creepy, Rochelle decided, was the understatement of the year. Perhaps century. “I’m flattered.” She responded with the politest of smiles. Allowing him to lead was almost painful. It meant becoming nothing more than a feather in his grasp, working to parry his every move with the same effortless grace he exuded. In short, it meant following him; something that Rochelle had never dreamed of, not even in the darkest of her nightmares. To her the man was anything but the dangerously handsome and charismatic dark knight he portrayed himself as – he was grotesque and a work of all things that had haunted a nearly yearlong period of her life. Sure. It was all circumstantial at best, the evidence that indicted him for the crimes committed against the Vindicator and Landon, but it was enough to do nothing more than earn not her respect, but her hatred. A fine thin line separated the two, or so Andrea had always cautioned, but Rochelle wasn’t in the mood to remember long lessons of philosophy on that particular disenchanted eve.

Tr’Bak’s smile broadened to the point where it transcended arrogance to nearly being school boy in nature. “I’m also truly glad to see that you chose to wear my gift.” He chuffed, drawing her closer, “That dress is extremely flattering on you.”

It was then that Rochelle’s blood ran cold and the bright crystal of her eyes met the emerald of his, “Your gift?” She asked. All along the Empress had insisted that she wear the barely there garment made of jewels, beads, sequins, and ivory lace as if the very basis for their political relationship depended on it. Now the little Commodore only felt played.

“Why yes of course it’s my gift.” He chortled as if the very question was absurd. “It’s the same sort of gown my late wife wore on our wedding night, a symbol of adoration in the Romulan culture.” He boasted more than explained, his thumb gliding along the pale silk of her skin beneath it.


Nightmares were made of easier stuff. Fluffier stuff. Prettier stuff. Of this Rochelle Ivanova was completely and utterly certain. Being in the arms of the ship's green-blooded nemesis was easily one of her lowest moments. Her skin crawled where his fingers touched her hip and held her hand. The intimacy of his gestures only served to churn her stomach where outside eyes would have seen it as the Federation and Romulan Star Empire playing footsie and getting along for the sake of the Ascendancy. Rochelle, however, knew it was just another ploy by a sadistic sociopath to get whatever jollies he could any way he could - and how she'd fallen under the lense of his microscope simply chose to elude her in the very worst of ways. Now every inch of her skin quivered beneath the sudden weight of the gown she wore and words, completely, failed to reach her lips. What was she supposed to say? Thank you? That she was charmed by such a marvelous work of couture art?

As the minutes passed, hope of rescue began to fade; none had dared to try and cut in on their macabre little waltz - until the dim lights were blocked by an all too familiar shadow and the sound of a man clearing his throat broke over the lilting notes of an old Romulan song.

There was little to say when Landon came from behind Tr'Bak, slipped his hand into the Romulan's while replacing Rochelle's and deftly slid between the two of them. The movement came without warning or provocation, and took only a moment. The Trill replaced the man's hand from her waist onto his own. Neyes' eyes met with Tr'bak's, their icy hue locking on as the metal disc Landon pressed between their hands came to life with a shrill charging sound. Subtle enough not to be noticed by the crowd beneath the music, but loud enough to be heard by the Romulan as Neyes' continued to dance with him in Ivanova's place.

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TO BE CONTINUED...
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Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

Captain Landon Neyes
Civilian Liaison
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

Ael'Riov Vrith Tr'Bak
Commander, 3rd Tal Shiar Task Force
Romulan Star Empire

Xue'Daio Nox
Crowned Princess of the Stenellian Ascendancy
Lady of Aleine
Regent of Apsha
Stenellian Ambassador to the Federation