PLOT - JL | Cmdr Neyes, Mei'zha Ilex - "Blurred Lines" pt I/II

Posted on 241508.14 @ 3:52am by Commodore Rochelle Ivanova

The bazaar seemed to rush past the young Trill, who watched with idle fascination as the crowd around him went about their hustle bustle lives with ease. Children ran by carelessly, playing with effortless harmony in the sunlight afforded by the tropical climate. Shops peddled their wares to each passerby, calling out the virtues of even the simplest of items. Tristan, although no longer joined to Neyes, still felt the pull of this moment.

Here was a people rich in some ways, and clever in others. He could see it in the way the streets were laid down, and in the distribution of the different shops. Some sellers were clearly taking advantage of boons nearby sellers offered, working in tandem to maximize profits... discreetly.

The passageways of the market led him down one street then another, like a rabbit hole of endless treasures. It was the perfect escape from the rigors of his job, and his family... which would soon include the Captain. The counselor quickly found himself purchasing a few items in his charge to relieve his mind. A small puzzle box for his son, Zed, and a beautiful painting for Landon and Rochelle. It rolled up easily in a hollow cylinder graciously offered to him by the merchant for an extra 5%. Tristan couldn't help but smile.

It was a nearly perfect day. He didn't even begin to notice as the buildings gradually descended into the lower city, and the vibrant colors faded into worn hues and sullied walkways. The market seemed to trickle down to some essential shops one would find on the outskirts, but a small statuette caught his attention and he was quickly peppering the attendant for information on it's composition and background.

Aleine was a modern marvel of art and architectural greatness. It's cobble stone vias wound away from main streets and deposited followers into quiet grotto filled with winding trees, singing birds, and fountains all seemingly blind to the fact that the ancient metropolis now was home to more shops and bistros than midtown Manhattan. Where New York had failed, Aleine had excelled. It was clean, quaint... Beautiful. But for every light there is an equal shadow, and Aleine was hardly devoid of them. The locals, and experienced traders alike, knew the walks to avoid and when to stop and turn around. Failure to do so could, and would, deposit someone deep into the heart of darkness itself. Tristan had unknowingly found himself poised on the cusp of just such a place, and it wouldn't spare him for his blissful ignorance.

Hunger lurked and gurgled in the pits of stomachs and sickness ran in thick, heavy clouds that smelled of death -- and all this lurked no more than a block away from the very place he stood transfixed by a bauble that those engulfed by the shadows could, and would, never hope to be able to afford.

"STOP!" a voice bellowed, "THIEF!" it rung again only to be followed up with the frightened bleat of a Stenellis child no older than Zed as she tore up the alleyway as fast as her dirt-caked bare feet could carry her. In her hand she defiantly and desperately clutched a pastry of some kind, not daring to let it go even as a small contingency of golden armor plated Makta galloped in hot pursuit. She wouldn't get much further than Tristan's position before the appearance of a reptile mounted guard blocked her escape and sent her hurtling into the massive beast's shoulder with a sickening thud and angered hiss from the animal. It's thick, sinewy tail lashed as its rider used their reins to snatch the beast's gaping, drooling maw away before it could connect what would have been a fatal, disease riddled bite to the child-thief, cursing while they worked to calm the incensed creature.

The child tried to scurry backwards and away, nearly colliding with Tristan's legs in the process. Her crud rung eyes were big as saucers as she was snatched up by the hair and tattered collar of her shirt by one of the foot-guards that had chased her up the street. "Stupid cur!" He snarled, shaking the girl while another pried free the pastry, tossing it to the gutter.
"You should feel lucky I'm in such a good mood. Ask me why I'm in a good mood."

"Why?" She asked, swallowing hard and doing her damnedest not to cry even though she'd have sworn her little heart was going to explode in her chest. The guard smiled brightly, dangling his catch high off the street with ease. She winced as she shook her once again.

"Because tonight I get to sit in the palace and tell stories about the filthy little thief who's hand I removed." The guards behind him chuckled, entirely way too content with this idea. One had even removed a brightly jeweled rapier from it's equally as ornate scabbard as the child began to cry, thrash, and beg to be released. They may as well have been invisible for no one stopped their business, no one appeared to differ with the verdict, and no one seemed to care about the child's welfare until a small blade magically materialized from thin air, sprouting from the guard's fist that held the flailing child. She fell, hitting the cobble stone on her feet and smashing into Tristan as she beat a hasty retreat. Looking back would have meant certain death, and death wasn't something she wanted to befriend even if it meant ignoring the agonized cries of the guard left staring at his grievously injured hand.

Neyes turned to see what the commotion outside was, and his stomach turned over inside at the sight of a young girl suspended by a peacekeeper's hand. The look of deviant satisfaction in the man's eyes stirred something in Tristan he had tried so hard to suppress. Freed from the symbiont, but never relieved of its impact on his life, the counselor knew what Landon would have done in this situation. It may have been rash, it may have been shortsighted, but his older brother would not have stood aside lightly while such a display took place before him.

Tristan though, felt something grab at that instinct. His inner control struck out and put up a wall, separating the scenario from Federation principles. This was an internal or cultural matter, and he was not to be involved. Inside, his heart was breaking.

Meizha locked eyes briefly with Tristan as she stepped around him from within the shop. "Wan... I always said you should pick on people your own size." She barked quickly, stepping up through the massive gathering of Makta to pluck the blade from the man's hand as if it were a thorn from a dog's paw. Then again... If it had been a dog, she'd likely have been more gentle.

"You?!"

"Me."

"Meizha..."

"Don't want to hear it. I won't let you deform some kid for your own pleasure." The turquoise maned Stenellis woman hissed as she wiped the bloodied blade against the tattered cloth that covered her left thigh and sheathed it back at her hip. Standing nearly three feet shorter than the guard, it would have been a laughable sight if it wasn't so dire a situation that compelled it.

Wan, gripping his profusely bleeding appendage with his free hand, narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. "You were the one who voted the punishment for theft into validity, Meizha." He countered with a sneer, his men murmured in the background as they slowly circled the pair. "Just because you're now one of them doesn't mean the rules no longer apply."

"I know the laws better than you know how to read a book." Meizha snorted, folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes, however, were less defiant. They danced and darted wildly as the other large Makta created a noose around the artery of her escape.

"Then you know the penalty for assisting in a cri-" Wan wouldn't get to finish his sentence before the little Stenellis lost her cool. No longer was the collected rogue, but rather an alley cat caught out in a rain storm; struggling and wildly fighting for her survival. Felling Wan was one feat, felling seven others... And impossibility. Some hit their knees having been delivered a blow or two from the wild little creature before a well placed armored fist against the side of her skull sent her hurtling to the street below, unconscious and motionless aside from the involuntary rocking motion made by her body as it absorbed kick after brutal kick.

"Enough." The guard finally called once satisfied. "She's not getting up again." He added, adding his own addition by way of blood stained spit as he turned and made motion for the beast-rider to dismount and hand the creature over to him. No order came for them to find help for the broken husk of a girl, or to find the child she'd defended. Only chuckles and hushed tones of their once leader being defeated rose as the alleyway was deserted of their presence and life seemed to go on as usual without a single care.

Behind Tristan the shop-keep finally cleared his throat,seemingly untroubled by the five minutes that had just ticked past. "The idol, sir, would you like to pay for it? I can have it delivered to your resort if you don't want to carry it with you."

The blue of Neyes' eyes was locked out the door.

Tristan could hear someone speaking, but the draw of his need to assist someone in dire need of help was too powerful to dissuade him. His mind was already spinning with all the potential injuries incurred to the young woman during the fight. He dismissively set a bag of worthless (to him) currency on the counter for the shop keep and grabbed for the nearest piece of cloth he could see. Within a moment he was outside, and his medical skills put to use as he triaged the woman's wounds with a visual scan. A moment later the tricorder was out before him doing the same. It chirped and trilled alarm sounds as it screamed out what he was sure was a lengthy list of painful contusions and fractures.

-- To be continued in pt II --

Commander Tristan Neyes
Chief Counselor
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

&

Mei'zha Ilex
Former Head of the Makta Caste
Stenellian Ascendancy