Posted by Civilian Cassandra Klrin of House Ke’dass (Person Who Really Keeps the CO In Line (Wife)) in A quiet night in

Posted by Captain Ch’otok Klrin of House Ke’dass (Person Who Runs The Ship (CO)) in A quiet night in

Posted by Civilian Cassandra Klrin of House Ke’dass (Person Who Really Keeps the CO In Line (Wife)) in A quiet night in
Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Ch’otok had retired for the evening on this Thursday evening. It was a special day that normally would involve a hike out on Delotha to a remote ridge looking over some rubble and a ritual meal with tea, hasperat, and a few candles. This was the first time he had missed this evening and, in a way, it wasn’t anything strange. He indeed prepared the hasperat from ingredients he brought from his hut and farm, and brewed the tea as he always had, then took a deep breath with the two tins he would bring them in. One for him, one for a woman he first knew as Casela. Times had changed, and this was a wonderful thing. He waited for Cassandra to get home, a small reminder of their mutual past and what had been lost, but what had also been gained. They were together, and that was something beyond what he ever thought possible. Sure they had flirted with the possibility before, but now? It was reality.

Ch’otok, CO

Having been informed that he needed time to prepare something for this evening, Brenna had kept Cassandra out a bit later than normal. Today Cassandra was calmer, accepting the confusion and missing memories, rather than raging at them. She had fallen into a kind of routine where she spent her days with Brenna, waiting for Ch’otok to get home. She knew that, she felt that she was safer with him than anyone else. Safer from herself. Some days she knew it wasn’t herself he was keeping her safe from, but she couldn’t identify what.

The door swished open for her and then closed. She inhaled and paused. The aroma was spicy and heavy and *familiar. She moved towards the kitchen, “Ch’otok?” She saw the two tins, the thermoses, the candles. Her hand traced the edges of her tin. She knew it was her tin. “I remember these…” Her voice was reflective. She moved to stand next to him. Ch’otok was the calm center in a world full of storms. She hesitated before taking his hand. As if she wasn’t sure she should. He was her husband and hesitation was absurd, but as she did it felt new and wonderful and she felt nervous. Her reaction made no sense to her.

A memory, a real memory, teasing at her consciousness. She looked up at him. “Today is Thursday. I…I remember..sitting in a clearing. We eat hasperat and drink tea.” There was a question there, wondering if she remembered correctly.

Cassandra

Ch’otok looked up from his preparations and heard her mention the memories of the tins. A couple of old beat up boxes that Ch’otok had on the farm, repurposed to be lunch tins. His a deep chocolate brown with faded blue trim, hers a crimson and green box… crimson… always something related to blood with her it seemed. Of course they were dented, the paint was chipped, and there were far better and more modern ones out there that would allow the food to be kept at optimal temperature and so on, but these were simple.

She stared at the tin, head tipped to the side…the colors seemed to spread and pool, “Copper and Iron…” and then she blinked and whatever it was that had floated to the surface of her memories was gone. Gone before she even realized it was there.

He felt her hand reaching for his as he set down the kitchen knife and clasped both hands around hers with a soft smile. “Of course you remember these, they were our lunch tins from a lifetime ago.” He said, letting go and putting the prepared meals in their respective boxes. “Grab yours and come with me.” He said as he walked to their main living room and sat down on the floor, slowly but surely the old war vet got down and said, “Come now Cassandra, we shall eat here and.....enjoy where we are.” He said, not mentioning the reason for his ritual, not wanting to trigger something too soon as it seemed her mind was still working through it’s jumbled mess. “I made a point to enjoy some hasperat and tea on Thursdays, a um…remembrances of sorts for where I used to call home.”

Ch’otok, CO

Cassandra picked up the tin, her hands automatically tracing the familiar dents and edges. The sensation brought an emotional memory. Just feelings, the sensation of peace and … and safety. She grabbed the two thermoses of tea and followed him into the living area. She started to sit right next to him, but some instinct, some habit she wasn’t aware of she sat facing him. She set the tin on the floor in front of her and then passed him his thermos. She leaned back against a chair her hand running over the carpet. A small genuine grin flashed across her face. “I don’t have any rocks to throw at you, bEng’wl.” It would be curious and significant that Cassandra had remembered correctly and used the inflection for beloved husband instead of beloved brother.

Hasperat and tea, every Thursday. He had practiced this remembrance for longer than she’d known him. Not much longer, but before her…A small home, but built for a family. She wandered out of a bed room that contained only a small single bed and a place to put clothes. Her tin and thermos sat beside the bed, food untouched. She wandered into a warm and functional living space, drawn curiously towards a single photo. Ch’otok, younger, no signs of heart break or loss on his face, laughing…a Bajoran woman, fierce passion in her eyes. And a little girl with the nose ridges and lighter skin of her mother, forehead ridges and darker hair of her father… “Rutresh and Tonja....You’re…You are married to Rutresh and you have a daughter - Tonja.” She looked at him perplexed and then the knowledge returned. “They died and we eat hasperat because Rutresh taught you to make it and drink this tea because it was Tonja’s favorite.”

And with that knowledge another memory, fire and explosions, blood and pain, and righteous retribution. Ch’otok had heard of a rogue Federation team. He got in touch and offered his services to help stop the governor who had murdered his wife and child.

He looked at the governor’s mansion and turned to Cassandra. “They’ve taken them from me, and finally they will be at peace with the prophets.” Ch’otok said, wearing each earring of his wife and daughter on either ear. He held up his mek’leth, an antique passed down from generations before and said, “I just want one thing Cassandra. I want to spill his organs on the floor, I want to watch as his blood soaks into the pristine white wood and leaves its mark to forever be a reminder that Delotha is not a place to be taken advantage of. Give me this and I will do whatever I can to ensure that it is kept that way.”

Cassandra’s eyes fired darkly and even for the enraged Klingon it set him back a pace, to see in one so young and seemingly innocent. They were sitting, just the two of them, her team out checking the numbers and layout of the mansion. Her, their, orders were to bring him back for trial. The Governor didn’t deserve it. He was a sick and twisted man. “Oh you’ll get your time. He has to be taken into custody. I’ll make sure he gets a chance to ‘escape.’ Don’t waste your chance. I have to get the information from him first. Follow behind us, after your team is secure in their job. Follow along the tree line, 10 meters in. The rest won’t hear you from that point. And that far into the tree line he’ll think he’s free. His terror will be more satisfying for you. Good hunting Ch’otok.” She got up from her seat and slipped into the shadows.

She blinked at him, had she really done those things? A part of her, deeply suppressed screamed at her to stop being so naïve to remember, but the memories, hidden so deeply hurt to try and recall. She hung her head wincing in pain trying to force it. To remember what had happened between then and now.

Cassandra Klrin

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