Posted by Lieutenant Séan Iven (Counselor) in My Hot Blood’s Been Burnin’ (Tag Séan)(Part 2)

Posted by Civilian Jezem (Upstanding Citizen) in My Hot Blood’s Been Burnin’ (Tag Séan)(Part 2)

Posted by Lieutenant Séan Iven (Counselor) in My Hot Blood’s Been Burnin’ (Tag Séan)(Part 2)
Posted by… suppressed (21) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Time never stops and Jezem arrived the following week to his next appointment. Having known Jezem for as long as he had now, Séan could tell the Orion was out of sorts. The signs were subtle but there, discernable by his outward appearace and body language. To the casual eye the Orion appeared normal, dressed in his fine clothes and expensive jewlery but they lacked complete cohesion and theme. His hair left down, lacked style or adornments. Jezem himself seemed stiff and nearly what could be almost described as awkard but indefinate.

He took his usual seat and began to speak, “I’ve heard of humans describe a desire to pick at their scabbed over wounds. I only remember it because of how strange and alien it sounded. Why would anyone do that? Pick and prod at a wound still healing. Seemingly enjoying the pain and discomfort as they come back to it again and again until they worry the old skin and dried blood away to reveal the shiny new skin beneath.

“And I think. . . I’m begining to understand it now,” Jezem paused to lean forward, arms resting against the tops of his legs, “That wound I can’t help but come back to time and time again but won’t let heal. My oldest scar. . . The person that inflicted it is dead, has been dead for a very long time. Sometimes I wish she were still alive, just so I could kill her again. This time by my own two hands and not indirectly.” She haunted his dreams, calling the name of a dead girl, smelling like flowers in the spring. “But you need context first.

“When I was born my parents surrendered me to the government of the local merchant prince. I was placed in. . . I suppose you would call it a state run orphanage. There I was raised to be sold on the slave markets when I came of market age. I don’t know how it measures up to a Federation orphanage but I can tell you it was sufficient and all my needs were met. We were raised with care and educated as appropriate for our future roles. When I turned ten years of age I was sold to a wealthy farmer who grew addictive plants and fungai.” Speaking this part was simple. Jezem did not resent the actions of his parents, nor his life as a child slave.

Jezem

Séan could sense the unease and tension in Jezem’s demeanor as he settled into his seat. The counselor’s gaze was steady and attentive, offering a safe space for Jezem to share whatever was on his mind. As Jezem began to speak, Séan listened intently, his expression empathetic as he absorbed the story.

The tale of Jezem’s early life in the state-run orphanage and subsequent sale into servitude was both a harsh reminder of the inequality and cruelty that existed in various corners of the galaxy and a testament to Jezem’s resilience in the face of such adversity. Séan’s own expression didn’t change, his face remained neutral, but his eyes held a depth of understanding, acknowledging the weight of Jezem’s experiences.

“Growing up in such circumstances must have been incredibly challenging,” Séan commented softly, his voice devoid of judgment. “The strength you developed to endure and eventually rise above your circumstances is truly remarkable. But it’s evident that there’s a particular aspect of this past that continues to haunt you.” He paused for a moment, allowing the words to sink in before continuing. “Tell me more about the person who inflicted that scar on you, and the context surrounding it.”

Counselor Iven

As expected. Jezem sent the counselor a flat look, “No, growing up in the orphanage was the easiest and least ‘challenging’ part of my life.” Humans hear the world ‘slave’ or ‘slavery’ and their eyes start to water and the bemoan the tragic and unfair suffering of the poor people who must be trapped in a pitiful existence. That all slaves must be suffering under their oppressors and waiting to be rescued. Jezem debated explaining Orion slavery to the human but ultimately decided that could be a debate for another day. “Because I was still young I was placed under the care of another slave.”

Jezem closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply through his nose. When he spoke again, his cadence sounded flat, as though he were reading lines from a play instead of recalling memories of his own life, “Her name was Lessa. She was the Master’s favorite and I suppose you would call her the Head Slave. She held the most responsibility and power of the household slaves. At the time I was the youngest among the Master’s slaves and the others liked to baby me. Lessa and I. . .” His hands clenched, the words poison in his mouth, “She became like a mother to me.

“Back then. . . You humans have a rather nice way of putting it actually: assigned female at birth. Orions treat children as sexless until the age of puberty. Then they are taught how to be male or female. Orions, for all that we are free with our expressions of love and sexuality are disappointingly black and white in the matter of gender. Men and women are divided just as society is divided by class. You may be able to rise above your birth class or fall from grace but you will always be defined by your gender.

“At first everyone was excited for me. Supportive as my body began to change and my pheromones developed. The changes felt wrong, I hated the way my body was changing. I hated my new lessons and training in the female arts and skills. I would sneak away from my lessons or duties to watch the male slaves. I wanted to be like them, to do what they do and be treated as an equal.” He scowled, “The other female slaves teased me over my ‘crushes’ and told me to wait a little longer before trying to entice them away from duty.”

Jezem

Séan maintained his attentive expression, his gaze unwavering as Jezem began to open up about his past. He could sense the tension and pain in the Orion’s words, understanding that discussing these memories wasn’t easy for him. Despite the flatness in Jezem’s tone, Séan could still sense the underlying emotional weight that these recollections carried.

As Jezem delved deeper into the complex realities of Orion society, gender roles, and the struggles he faced, Séan remained respectful and attentive. It was clear that Jezem’s experiences went beyond the simple human notions of gender identity. Séan nodded, acknowledging the intricacies as best he could from his own perspective.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Jezem,” Séan said sincerely. “Your insights into Orion society’s gender dynamics and the challenges you faced are invaluable for understanding your experiences. It’s clear that you were grappling with a complex set of expectations and desires, often at odds with each other. How did your relationship with Lessa impact your perception of these gender roles, and how did it influence your understanding of yourself at that time?”

Counselor Iven

“I didn’t tell Lessa at first,” Jezem said, gazing off to the side, “Everyone was so excited and happy for me. Lessa taught me how to clean by body to keep my skin and hair healthy. She said she always wanted a daughter of her own. I didn’t want to disappoint her, I wanted to be that daughter for her. Give it some time I told myself and maybe I would grow into the changes. I had no words for what I was feeling and no way to quantify it. It was my secret. Because I was born female that is my path in life.”

He idly played with a ring on his finger, “My body kept changing, I still felt wrong and the Master took notice of me. One day he called for me and asked me to sing and dance for him. He had only ever called on Lessa to perform for her. I hated the way he looked at me, but I wanted to make Lessa proud. She taught me the finer lessons in performance and I thought I would honor her by doing my best to impress the Master. Then it was too much. I couldn’t escape that feeling of wrongness and I confided in her.”

Jezem spat the words out, body tense with old anger, “I confessed everything I felt to her. I trusted her, loved her, and I foolishly thought that she would have the answers to all my questions.” Jezem knew he would never meet his real mother. In the orphanage he would sometimes daydream about her coming back for him. Then he was sold and placed into Lessa’s care. After that he stopped daydreaming about his parents. Why would he? He had Lessa who in his heart and mind was the mother he always imagined. “Lessa grabbed me by my hair. Pulled me up onto my toes and spat in my face ‘You are a slave, you have no wants. No desires. You are what your master wants you to be. Get these foolish notions from your head you stupid girl.’ Lessa left me crying on the floor.”

Jezem

“Moving forward,” Séan continued gently, “it might be beneficial for you to explore how these early experiences have shaped your perceptions of yourself, your relationships, and your understanding of emotions. We can work together to untangle the complex web of societal norms, personal feelings, and the impact of past interactions.”

He met Jezem’s gaze with a steady, empathetic look. “You deserve to understand and accept yourself for who you are, without feeling trapped by the expectations of others. It’s a journey that can be difficult, but it’s worth it. As we delve deeper into these emotions and experiences, we can begin to build a foundation for healing and growth.”

Counselor Iven

A manic laugh bubbled out his mouth before he could stop it. Jezem studied his hands, “I know who I am now, and oh, I understand myself very well in that reguard. I live for myself now. My body is mine and its the body I wanted for so long.” He stood, that manic energy spreading though him, “No one but me can decide who I am. No one will ever touch me again because I have control now and no one in this universe can ever take that from me again.” Not Lessa. Not Voukkur or his vile son. Not the faceless men who served them. “Everyone who tried paid the price with interest.“

Jezem

Séan observed Jezem’s reaction, recognizing the mixture of emotions in his expression and the intensity of his words. There was a sense of empowerment in his proclamation, a refusal to be confined by the past or the expectations of others. Jezem’s journey toward self-acceptance was a complex one, marked by pain, anger, and a newfound sense of determination.

“I’m glad to see you embracing that sense of control and agency over your life,” Séan said, his voice calm and supportive. “It’s a significant step forward. Remember, though, that healing isn’t just about defiance or retribution. It’s also about finding peace within yourself, letting go of the pain that’s been carried for so long. While holding those who have wronged you accountable is important, it’s equally vital to ensure that your journey towards healing doesn’t become entangled in perpetuating a cycle of anger.”

Counselor Iven

“Defiance and retribution is all I know,” Jezem said, voicing all the hurt and anger he’s carried. Lessa was his first betrayal. His first lesson in the cruelties of life and to guard your heart and secrets. Here he faltered, finally reflecting upon the counselor’s words. “That day. . . when I stopped crying I felt anger beneath my hurt. She betrayed me and my love and I knew I would never forgive her. I took that hate and it became my strength.” Lessa’s cruel words that day were not the worst pain she inflicted upon him. “She made my life into a living hell. With every abuse I suffered my hate grew and so did my endurance.”

He turned to face Séan, “I have only ever known anger and I do not know how to let it go.”

Jezem

“Anger can be a powerful force, and it’s understandable that it became a means for you to endure the hardships you faced,” Séan acknowledged. “But it’s important to realize that holding onto anger for too long can also consume you, affecting your emotional well-being and relationships. While it may have given you strength in the past, it might not serve you in the same way now. Healing involves finding a balance between acknowledging your anger and allowing yourself to move beyond it.”

Séan leaned forward slightly, his gaze sincere. “It’s a process, Jezem. It won’t happen overnight, and there’s no one-size-fits-all solution. But exploring and embracing other emotions—such as forgiveness, empathy, and self-compassion—can gradually help ease the hold anger has on you. It’s about understanding that letting go of anger doesn’t mean you’re condoning or forgetting what happened, but rather freeing yourself from its constant grip.”

Counselor Iven

The balance between acknowledgement and progress. Jezem squeezed his hands tight, “I have no forgiveness for Lessa, and absolutely no empathy for her.” Jezem thought of her running into the the burning building screaming the Master’s name. Watched as the flames poured from the blown out windows and climbed into the sky. Smoke blotted out the sun and cast the the farm into hazy twilight. He recalled feeling disappointed that she had not run to him to seek her revenge. Disappointed that she did not die with one hand tangled in her hair and a dagger buried in her stomach.

Jezem

“It’s completely valid to feel that way,” Séan reassured, understanding that some wounds run so deep that forgiveness and empathy might never come. “The journey towards healing isn’t about forcing emotions that don’t come naturally. It’s about creating a space where you can process and manage those emotions in a way that allows you to regain control over your life. If forgiveness or empathy aren’t part of that equation, it’s alright.”

He paused, offering a gentle smile. “The fact that you’re here, exploring these feelings and sharing your experiences, shows that you’re already taking steps towards understanding and healing. It’s okay to acknowledge your emotions, even the difficult ones. They’re all part of who you are. The key is finding ways to manage them in a way that empowers you and brings you closer to the life you want.”

Counselor Iven

Jezem’s shoulders slumped. He felt. . . weightless. Cast adrift without the pull of gravity to pull him down. All the tension coiled within him unfurled. “I remember. . .” Jezem blinked at the memory. Something long forgotten, purposefully so, “My first night on the Master’s estate. Lessa took me to the common room shared by the youngest female slaves. She. . . tucked me into bed and brushed my hair from my face. She said she would fetch me in the morning and wished me sweet dreams. The caregivers at the orphanage never. . . they never gave us attention like that. It was. . . ” He cut himself off, unable to say more. But it was the sort of thing he always thought a mother would be like.

He sat down in his chair again and slumped against the back. He hated Lessa. But he used to love her. She deserved far worse than being burned alive. She taught him how to braid hair and weave stalks of grass into little baskets or hairbands. Jezem could never forgive her for her betrayal, but could he let go of his anger and let the wound she left on him finally heal?

Jezem

“Memories can be complex and contradictory,” Séan gently remarked, understanding the maelstrom of emotions that such recollections could evoke. “It’s not unusual for people to have both positive and negative memories of someone who played a significant role in their life, especially when the relationship is as complicated as yours with Lessa.”

He leaned forward slightly, his expression compassionate. “Healing isn’t about erasing the past or pretending that the negative experiences never happened. It’s about finding a way to make peace with those experiences and the emotions they bring up. It’s about finding a way to move forward, acknowledging the pain without letting it consume you. If you’re open to it, we can work together to find strategies that help you manage your anger and create a healthier emotional landscape for yourself.”

Counselor Iven

Complicated. Jezem felt the word was inadequate to explain that twisted and mangled mass within him. As the Master’s farm burned down Jezem swore he would never let anyone get that close to him again. Love and kindness burned away. ‘What will you call yourself now?’ Jezem turned to Naanni, her eyes reflected heat and passion of the raging fire but she did not once look away from him. Jashanah perished in the flames, her soul the kindling that sparked the first flame. Jezem rose from the ashes. ‘Jezem?’ Naanni said, ‘What a handsome name.’

Jezem blinked, the pressure to remember everything he’d ever repressed about Lessa seemed to fade. Now he found himself recalling the most random memories with Naanni. “We can do that,” Jezem said distractedly.

Jezem

Séan watched Jezem, noticing the shift in his demeanor. He didn’t interrupt the Orion’s thoughts, letting him process whatever memories and emotions were surfacing. When Jezem responded, Séan nodded understandingly.

“That’s a step forward, Jezem. Acknowledging and reflecting upon these memories and emotions can be challenging, but it’s also a way to start healing. Our past experiences, the people who shaped us, they leave a mark. Sometimes those marks are painful, and they become a part of who we are, whether we want them to or not. It’s about finding a way to make peace with those experiences and define your own path moving forward.”

Counselor Iven

Finding a way to make peace. It was not lost to Jezem that a life spent fighting did not lend to skill in peace finding or peace keeping. That when there was nothing to fight against, no wrongs to avenge he found himself staring into the shattered pieces of his own memories. What did these things mean to him? Acceptance. Finding peace. Lessa sparked the fire that burned in his corrupted heart. She died in the fire that took everything she held dear, her entire worth, and Jashanah died with her.

Jezem instinctively recoiled at that name. That cursed name. Lessa haunted his nightmares, calling that name in her false sing-song tone. Mocking. He spent his most of his life running from that name. Separating everything of himself from the person he was. Jezem wrung his hands, a nervous gesture he had not done since a child. An ugly truth glared at him from his heart. A surge of disgust, bile in the back of his throat. Jezem suddenly stood, pacing back and forth. Jashanah did not die, but evolved. Adapted from one state to another. Bound to him like metal exposed to the vacuum of space that weld together under the enormously intense pressure and friction.

Hate coiled around him like a familiar and comforting grasp around his heart. That stupid naive girl. Who trusted and loved the wrong people. Captured in a game of revenge and punishment, and forced to bear abuse after abuse. Jezem’s pacing became frantic. He hated everything about her. Hated her feminine shape, the smell of her female pheromones and sweat. Most of all, he hated the ugly truth that he could not heal until he acknowledged her and her suffering. Jashanah too, was apart of him.

Jezem

Séan recognized that Jezem was beginning to spiral negatively and he needed to be pulled out of it. Continuing in a negative feedback loop would not be productive and could be harmful to Jezem’s well-being. So he stood from his seat and said in his deep voice with as much authority as he could muster. “Jezem.” When he was sure he had the other’s attention, he pointed to the chair Jezem had been sitting in. “Sit. Please. You need to take a breath.”

Counselor Iven

A deep, commanding voice cut through Jezem’s thoughts. Survival instinct kicked in and Jezem spun towards the voice, hand reaching for a weapon that would not be there, teeth bared. Fingers wrapped around nothing, Jezem hesitated and in that brief moment realized that he had given up all his weapons at the start of the session. Just as he promised the good counselor he’d do. Jezem tensed, torn between the quiet rage building within him and the intense discomfort of feeling vulnerable. Jezem did not need his weapons to be dangerous, he was trained in martial arts but hand to hand combat was not his best offense.

No. Jezem took a breath. It came out as a staggard heave. This isn’t why he’s here. He burned for so long. Now it was time to cool down his hot blood. Jezem quietly lowered his hands, fighting against every instinct within him to fight and defend. He sat down in his chair and for the time being, focused on steadying his panting breaths. After a few minutes he felt calm enough to speak again. “Back then. . .” Jezem wanted her gone. Purged from him, body, mind and soul, forever, “Back then my name was. . . Jashanah and I hated that name. After Lessa betrayed me. . . I felt dread every time I heard that name called.” When it was not Lessa calling for him. . . then it was the Master’s son.

Jezem

Séan kept his cool during Jezem’s reaction. Part of it was no provoking a further reaction and the other part was that it was important to maintain the chosen approach. When Jezem sat back down and steadied his breathing, Séan likewise sat back down in his seat and listened attentively. “When did you choose the name Jezem?”

Counselor Iven

Jezem considered this, “The day I. . . emancipated myself. The slave who helped me asked what I would call myself now. She’s the one who taught me that sometimes a body does not always match with what one feels in their soul. She had several masters before she was sold to the Master’s estate and she had experience with other people and cultures.” Naanni taught him more about the Old Gods, explained how to sneak and hack under moonlight. Never once did she call him by that other name, it was always ‘my dear’.

Jezem

Séan nodded in understanding. “It sounds like this, former?, slave was instrumental with your early self-discovery. What happened to her after your emancipation?”

Counselor Iven

He laughed, debating how much he should tell Séan. It wasn’t like the counselor could do anything with the information. Anything Jezem was willing to tell, Starfleet Intelligence likely already knew about. This was about Jezem and his experiences, he could afford to be a little more open. “What happened to her? She took me in as her protege and continued the education she began while we were slaves together. I used the money I stole from our former Master to buy myself higher into her organization. She gave me a ship and a crew and told me to have fun.”

Naanni taught him everything. From spying and infiltration to poisons and short blades. She found him tutors in traditional Orion martial arts and one in Klingon martial arts. He learned the performing arts and music and how to blend seamlessly into a crowd. To be whatever he needed to be to get the job done and how to kill so quietly that he was long gone before anyone could realize something was wrong. Jezem smirked, “You could say she’s doing very well for herself.” He hoped Séan picked up on the subtler hints he dropped.

Jezem

Séan blinked at the emphasis Jezem put on very well. Also went into business, maybe of the legitimate sort, was his guess. Obviously a lifelong mentor and Jezem had mentioned that he hadn’t given Argam’s advances the time of day initially until someone had convinced him to give it a shot. Same person? “You must be very grateful to her that she pushed you to give Argam a chance.” He said matter-of-factly as if he wasn’t probing for the truth.

Counselor Iven

So the counselor could put things together, though Jezem suspected he was missing the important one, “I thank her every day. She was even the one to introduce use us. Argam was a black market fence back then. One that worked exclusively with Naanni’s sort of people.” He pretended to pick some dirt from underneath his nails before settling his hands on his lap. He felt rather like one of those human sports where they batted a ball back and forth across a court. Emotions bouncing every which way though without the initial intensity.

Jezem