ScorpSik
03-07-2004, 09:20 AM
This is a Losing Time fic. I've been wanting to write this character for a while... I'm not sure how well I've 'got' her, so any feedback would be graciously recieved. Cheers.
This is for Roland
Spoilers for Losing Time and poss. WWL2
They ain't mine in any way.
Spiritual Enema
Ghastly and horrendous. That… that *thing*, that parasite… had hurt her, had been inside her. Revolting. Why her? It was so unfair. With a strained sigh, she closed her brilliant green eyes, and fought desperately against the persistent trembling of her lips. She strove bravely to keep the tears concealed and retain what little pride she had left, as she thought about the horrors of her most recent experience. Well… the horrors of the last quarter cycle, actually. She failed, and as the sobs spewed forth from her, she cursed herself from once again becoming the stereotype that the others had labelled her.
The others? Another sigh. They wouldn't know sophistication and breeding if it bit them on the eema! Barbarians the lot of them. Why did this happen to *her*? As self-pity comforted her, Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis (how she loathed the way they bastardised her name) tossed the long red locks from her face. Seeing the redness of her hair reminded her how stressed she had become, and caused yet another swell of sadness within her.
Twenty cycles… twenty! Her parents would be dead by now, her cousins were dead, she had… she could barely bring herself to think it… a criminal record, and she was here. Here. Not receiving massages on a top class pleasure planet, not giving lectures in the great halls of her world, not being wooed and admired by respectable people. No. Instead she was fleeing Peacekeepers through the uncivilised uncharted territories with a band of prisoners. Alien prisoners at that, aboard a living ship. She grimaced at the notion that she was currently residing inside a living thing… and at the thought of the microscopic things that were no doubt also sharing her personal space. Ugh. This was not her idea of a good vacation. She had even attempted to end it - sitting at the steps of the transport pod, alone, frightened, whilst the living dead clammoured beyond the door. She couldn't even do *that* right! Pulse rifles! Violence was definitely not for a woman of her standing. She was bright and attractive, these sorts of things shouldn't happen to her.
All she had ever wanted to do was study, to be a great archaeologist, to discover past mysteries that had been lost amidst time, over the centuries. Nothing else. She studied so hard, won awards and merits for her achievements, she had it all - money, a good family, social standing… As she thought back to those heady days, Joolushko's eyes glazed over, moistly glistening from the tears that edged them. Rolling them toward the ceiling, she cursed at her bad fortune. She had always worn her heart on her sleeve, and considered herself a very open woman, unafraid to show excitement or fear, but she had been wary in revealing private things to the others, who were still barely more than strangers to her. Well, a person who doesn't respect anothers privacy, can hardly be called decent.
Privacy. It was her own stubborn grasp upon her private business which led to her current, quaking, state. If she had only told them the truth earlier, instead of maintaining her air of superiority. What was integrity worth if you were dead? Up until the moment they had accused her of… harbouring… that rider, she had foolishly begun to believe that they had accepted her. Accusing her - her! As if! That was so not her. More fitting that it would be that monochromatic tramp Chiana - she'd be 'host' to anything!
But accuse her they did, and as she looked into the far too cocky face of that little whore, Joolushko mused that if she herself was an inferior being, she may well have struck her! Setting her jaw, and resisting the urge to floor the Nebari with a barrage of deadly witticisms, she decided that she was better than that, pulled her dignity together, and told them the truth.
It felt strange, sharing her deepest secret and shame with a group of people with whom she resented sharing air molecules - but at the same time, it felt rather freeing. Joolushko lowered her gaze, and told them how she had been caught stealing from an Oacean gem mine. Certainly not a crime in the same league as these thieves and murderers, and not a crime which she believed should carry punishment (it wasn't like she was going to sell what she had stolen - it was simply so that she could study further)… but a crime, none-the-less. It hurt to think that she, through her rashness, had caused her entire situation. If she had not stolen, her cousins would not have had to wait for her and they wouldn't have become sick. And if they weren't sick, none of them would have been frozen, they'd all be back home, studying, earning praise and honours. Now they were dead. And it was her fault.
She could feel herself beginning to cry again, when D'Argo interrupted her. "That is not what you told us before!" The emotion brought Joolushko's anger to the fore, and she fixed him with piercing eyes, and yelled "I WAS LYING BEFORE!" "Sorry, Princess…" - Chiana. "…I think you just selected yourself 'most likely'…Take Jool." The self-satisfied grin that adorned Chiana's face was too much. Cocking her head, and projecting what she hoped was a deadly gaze, Joolushko adopted a look of indignation, raised her brow, and prepared to sarcastically cut the young whore down to size.
Before she could speak, the image of Pilot - or what was once Pilot - came into view. It's cold, hard voice was clearly enjoying the terror it caused. "Do you suspect this… female?" Fear propelled Joolushko to blurt out her response, "No they don't!" D'Argo spoke up, his gruff voice sounding utterly collected. "We need more time." Smugly, the thing inside Pilot drooled "I'll try not to take long." She couldn't breathe, she was so scared… and that voice - she could almost see the bloodlust. Why was this happening to her? She felt so vulnerable with the accusing eyes pointed toward her. Alone - but not for long. D'Argo, dear D'Argo, came to stand beside her. "We cannot let them take Jool." Her heart exploded, if it wasn't so gauche, she would have kissed him right there. Instantly, she felt safe. Crichton was nodding in agreement, and when he spoke, he - as always - tried to project strength and confidence into his words, a man still struggling to appear competent in a world he didn't fully understand. "Okay… don't take anyone right now." The hideous voice was almost slavering with delight now… "I'll try not to hurt… much…"
Suddenly, she felt a devastating force hit her, penetrate her, claim her. She screamed as it drove her into the wall. She could feel it inside her, writhing around, exploring every dench of her internal structure, searching… searching for a rider that was not there. The pain was overwhelming, making her gag and fit. Behind her screams, she heard the cries in protest of the others as it thrashed her relentlessly around. She just knew she was about to die… but then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and Joolushko fell instantly into oblivion.
***
Sitting in her room… well, it still more resembled a cell, no amount of expensive, designer attire could alter that… Joolushko watched D'Argo leave. He had sat with her, comforting her until she awoke. When she did come to, she expected him to look at her with disgust after the state she had been reduced to, but instead, he looked at her with the most beautiful expression she had ever seen. He cared, and he restored her dignity. She wished that she was courageous enough to tell him what that… what he… meant to her, but feeling suddenly like a terrified child, all she could manage was 'If it touches me again D'Argo, I'll die.'
***
It was over, and now she was alone. But for the first time, perhaps she had friends here. D'Argo's words, and his presence were still with her, and seeing that beast 'test' Chiana the way that it had her, well, it was not pleasant. She had held Chiana who, in that instant, ooked little more than a child herself - the soft and vulnerable child, who dwelled beneath the tough and reckless protection of a shell. Maybe things would get better… in time… when the pain was not so fresh. For now, Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis, architect… no. For now Jool, felon on the run, curled up on her bed and allowed her sobs to escort her to sleep.
ScorpSik
Em Fripp
2004
This is for Roland
Spoilers for Losing Time and poss. WWL2
They ain't mine in any way.
Spiritual Enema
Ghastly and horrendous. That… that *thing*, that parasite… had hurt her, had been inside her. Revolting. Why her? It was so unfair. With a strained sigh, she closed her brilliant green eyes, and fought desperately against the persistent trembling of her lips. She strove bravely to keep the tears concealed and retain what little pride she had left, as she thought about the horrors of her most recent experience. Well… the horrors of the last quarter cycle, actually. She failed, and as the sobs spewed forth from her, she cursed herself from once again becoming the stereotype that the others had labelled her.
The others? Another sigh. They wouldn't know sophistication and breeding if it bit them on the eema! Barbarians the lot of them. Why did this happen to *her*? As self-pity comforted her, Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis (how she loathed the way they bastardised her name) tossed the long red locks from her face. Seeing the redness of her hair reminded her how stressed she had become, and caused yet another swell of sadness within her.
Twenty cycles… twenty! Her parents would be dead by now, her cousins were dead, she had… she could barely bring herself to think it… a criminal record, and she was here. Here. Not receiving massages on a top class pleasure planet, not giving lectures in the great halls of her world, not being wooed and admired by respectable people. No. Instead she was fleeing Peacekeepers through the uncivilised uncharted territories with a band of prisoners. Alien prisoners at that, aboard a living ship. She grimaced at the notion that she was currently residing inside a living thing… and at the thought of the microscopic things that were no doubt also sharing her personal space. Ugh. This was not her idea of a good vacation. She had even attempted to end it - sitting at the steps of the transport pod, alone, frightened, whilst the living dead clammoured beyond the door. She couldn't even do *that* right! Pulse rifles! Violence was definitely not for a woman of her standing. She was bright and attractive, these sorts of things shouldn't happen to her.
All she had ever wanted to do was study, to be a great archaeologist, to discover past mysteries that had been lost amidst time, over the centuries. Nothing else. She studied so hard, won awards and merits for her achievements, she had it all - money, a good family, social standing… As she thought back to those heady days, Joolushko's eyes glazed over, moistly glistening from the tears that edged them. Rolling them toward the ceiling, she cursed at her bad fortune. She had always worn her heart on her sleeve, and considered herself a very open woman, unafraid to show excitement or fear, but she had been wary in revealing private things to the others, who were still barely more than strangers to her. Well, a person who doesn't respect anothers privacy, can hardly be called decent.
Privacy. It was her own stubborn grasp upon her private business which led to her current, quaking, state. If she had only told them the truth earlier, instead of maintaining her air of superiority. What was integrity worth if you were dead? Up until the moment they had accused her of… harbouring… that rider, she had foolishly begun to believe that they had accepted her. Accusing her - her! As if! That was so not her. More fitting that it would be that monochromatic tramp Chiana - she'd be 'host' to anything!
But accuse her they did, and as she looked into the far too cocky face of that little whore, Joolushko mused that if she herself was an inferior being, she may well have struck her! Setting her jaw, and resisting the urge to floor the Nebari with a barrage of deadly witticisms, she decided that she was better than that, pulled her dignity together, and told them the truth.
It felt strange, sharing her deepest secret and shame with a group of people with whom she resented sharing air molecules - but at the same time, it felt rather freeing. Joolushko lowered her gaze, and told them how she had been caught stealing from an Oacean gem mine. Certainly not a crime in the same league as these thieves and murderers, and not a crime which she believed should carry punishment (it wasn't like she was going to sell what she had stolen - it was simply so that she could study further)… but a crime, none-the-less. It hurt to think that she, through her rashness, had caused her entire situation. If she had not stolen, her cousins would not have had to wait for her and they wouldn't have become sick. And if they weren't sick, none of them would have been frozen, they'd all be back home, studying, earning praise and honours. Now they were dead. And it was her fault.
She could feel herself beginning to cry again, when D'Argo interrupted her. "That is not what you told us before!" The emotion brought Joolushko's anger to the fore, and she fixed him with piercing eyes, and yelled "I WAS LYING BEFORE!" "Sorry, Princess…" - Chiana. "…I think you just selected yourself 'most likely'…Take Jool." The self-satisfied grin that adorned Chiana's face was too much. Cocking her head, and projecting what she hoped was a deadly gaze, Joolushko adopted a look of indignation, raised her brow, and prepared to sarcastically cut the young whore down to size.
Before she could speak, the image of Pilot - or what was once Pilot - came into view. It's cold, hard voice was clearly enjoying the terror it caused. "Do you suspect this… female?" Fear propelled Joolushko to blurt out her response, "No they don't!" D'Argo spoke up, his gruff voice sounding utterly collected. "We need more time." Smugly, the thing inside Pilot drooled "I'll try not to take long." She couldn't breathe, she was so scared… and that voice - she could almost see the bloodlust. Why was this happening to her? She felt so vulnerable with the accusing eyes pointed toward her. Alone - but not for long. D'Argo, dear D'Argo, came to stand beside her. "We cannot let them take Jool." Her heart exploded, if it wasn't so gauche, she would have kissed him right there. Instantly, she felt safe. Crichton was nodding in agreement, and when he spoke, he - as always - tried to project strength and confidence into his words, a man still struggling to appear competent in a world he didn't fully understand. "Okay… don't take anyone right now." The hideous voice was almost slavering with delight now… "I'll try not to hurt… much…"
Suddenly, she felt a devastating force hit her, penetrate her, claim her. She screamed as it drove her into the wall. She could feel it inside her, writhing around, exploring every dench of her internal structure, searching… searching for a rider that was not there. The pain was overwhelming, making her gag and fit. Behind her screams, she heard the cries in protest of the others as it thrashed her relentlessly around. She just knew she was about to die… but then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and Joolushko fell instantly into oblivion.
***
Sitting in her room… well, it still more resembled a cell, no amount of expensive, designer attire could alter that… Joolushko watched D'Argo leave. He had sat with her, comforting her until she awoke. When she did come to, she expected him to look at her with disgust after the state she had been reduced to, but instead, he looked at her with the most beautiful expression she had ever seen. He cared, and he restored her dignity. She wished that she was courageous enough to tell him what that… what he… meant to her, but feeling suddenly like a terrified child, all she could manage was 'If it touches me again D'Argo, I'll die.'
***
It was over, and now she was alone. But for the first time, perhaps she had friends here. D'Argo's words, and his presence were still with her, and seeing that beast 'test' Chiana the way that it had her, well, it was not pleasant. She had held Chiana who, in that instant, ooked little more than a child herself - the soft and vulnerable child, who dwelled beneath the tough and reckless protection of a shell. Maybe things would get better… in time… when the pain was not so fresh. For now, Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis, architect… no. For now Jool, felon on the run, curled up on her bed and allowed her sobs to escort her to sleep.
ScorpSik
Em Fripp
2004