Lonely Or More

Posted on Fri Mar 17th, 2023 @ 9:11am by Indigo (*) & Lyndon Zahn

Mission: Mission 16: Hysperia
Location: Hysperia
Timeline: Second Day of Festival (MD06)
4356 words - 8.7 OF Standard Post Measure

Indigo had not been sure what she had been expecting stepping inside the man’s rooms, but it had been a lot nicer than she thought it would been. The man had quite a big set of quarters for someone who was just running a kissing booth and it was a lot tidier than the quarters than she had on her ship so that was a plus. But that was more a reflection on her past than him. “This is pretty nice.” She admitted trying to get out of her jacket but it was sticking to her much like her hair. “I seem to be getting it damp though.” She laughed trying to make light of it.

"Not the first time it's been subjected to a soggy reception, the weather patterns here are difficult to predict. I got caught in more rain showers during my first week here than I care to admit."

Lyndon, momentarily aborting his own attempt to struggle out of his clothing, reached out to help ease her outer jacket away from damp skin. Whilst the living arrangement he'd secured for himself didn't exactly qualify as extravagant, there was definitely a spaciousness to it that revealed the man's preferences. Open-plan, one space flowed into the next whilst still maintaining enough structure to maintain function. The lighting was warm, if a little on the low side once he activated it, and above all it seemed situated far enough away from the main thoroughfare to maintain an element of peace and quiet. The rain overhead was soothing now that they weren't trying to dodge through it. Long fingers dug between skin-tight material and her skin to assist the final wriggle free. It gave him ample opportunity to place a gentle kiss on her bare, clammy shoulder.

"Are you cold? I can light a fire and my stores of tea will probably involve far too much choice." Lyndon grinned. "We can always brew a pot of everything over time, there's no rush."

“What happens on a planet with no weather control.” Indigo sighed softly as the man tugged off her jacket leaving her in just the dress she had worn to the the harvest royalty announcements. It was not hysperian style in the slightest but it suited her blue haired look. “Here.” She tugged her jacket free not having failed to see him struggling himself. “And tea sounds lovely to warm us up. Something minty first. You pick, I will start your fire.” She traced a finger along his arm and moved away to where the fire was. It was basic but suited the style of the open plan.

Lyndon smiled at her self-sufficiency, alongside her apparent ability to adapt swiftly to new surroundings. Aside from the obvious pleasurable benefits of companionship, a good part of his motivation for inviting her to spend the night stemmed from a recognition that he missed connecting with others. Visiting Hysperia was the result of a lifetime's expectation, a pilgrimage for the benefit of his mother's memory as much as a means to curb his own curiosity. Lyndon had flung himself into the local customs and practises with perhaps a little more pantomime than he normally indulged in and, as a result, had partially alienated himself from the locals. He'd amused them, and there was some value in that, but if he'd perhaps toned down things a little he might have realised sooner than there were more parallels between here and home than he'd originally expected. Hysperia just wore her open hospitality beneath a few layers of petticoat.

The tea upon request didn't take very long to prepare, Lyndon opted for more conventional methods of heating the water rather than way for the fire to be hot enough for cooking. Loading the tray with the last of a selection of biscuits and slices he'd developed a fondness for, the Risian moved carefully to set the entire thing on a low coffee table that he then dragged over towards the fireplace. That done, he moved away to the bathroom for a moment and emerged with a towel. Kneeling behind her, he draped it over both hands and reached out to offer an attempt at drying her hair. "Better?"

She offered a thankful smile at the food that was being offered. Now the buzz was wearing off she was feeling a little hungry even though it was getting on. “Thank you.” She called after him as he disappeared off. She picked up her cup of tea and breathed in the clean minty smell of it. The fire had started as small embers but had grown instantly into something more substantial by the time he knelt behind her. “Thank you. Definitely might help drying off a little.”

It had been a long time since he'd worked a salon, though there was definitely experience there that guaranteed fond memories. Squeezing the moisture from damp strands, working it down to the ends of her hair before gathering gentle fistfuls to work on, Lyndon fell into a comfortable rhythm that felt far more normal than the hustle of running a booth. "I've adjusted the central heating, it should work fast enough to avoid too much discomfort." The direct heat of the fire was lovely but with such a large open space, his priority was decreasing the chill. Reaching forward, he gathered the towel around the base of her neck and worked gentle circles to dry the skin beneath sodden strands of hair. "We can wash your clothing if needed. I didn't mean for us to get quite so saturated."

He was being so sweet it was adorable. “Well the weather is left up to chance so it was going to happen eventually. I did wonder why it was getting hotter.” The fire whilst setting a mood was no good for heating a room with such high ceilings. “Washing facilities huh? Replicator?” She questioned with a smile over her shoulder as she taking the towel from his to wipe the dampness from her skin.

"If you want to be boring." The jest in the Risian's tone matched the flash of humour in his eyes. "We're on Hysperia, surely scrubbing with soap over a slab of rock is more traditional." He surrendered the towel and hesitated for a moment, hovering to see if he could be more helpful before moving around to sit opposite and check the tea. "This is likely to be quite minty, with a kick of spice because that's the way they seem to do everything around here." Lyndon glanced upwards briefly as he leaned forward with the teapot to pour. "I hope asking you back wasn't too forward." A common sentiment he'd always found best to broach first. People could be conflicted about their willingness to consent and that, if not squared away quickly, could lead to considerable mess very quickly.

“I will need my clothes back quicker and there are much better things to do with my time than scrub over stones. It seems a boring. I have not done chores like that in years.” It had been a long time since she had done anything like that but it was okay she would pop them into the replicator for sanitising and they would be back to normal and perfect to wear whenever she wanted to move. “Not in the slightest . I am here aren’t I?” She asked smiling as she took the tea in her hands.

"Yes, you are," Lyndon conceded with a smile. "My first visitor, in fact, if you don't count my sister." It came out more as a confession, his expression wry with a faint twinge of melancholy as he contemplated the implied loneliness. Lyndon wasn't one to fret normally and he wasn't now, except... "If you wanted to deal with your clothing now, I have hoarded several local oils that I've been eager to try out. If you enjoy massage, that is," he added. It was the one aspect of his many tasks on Risa that Lyndon missed the most, finding the process just as therapeutic for him as the recipient.

“So not forward.” The woman assured thoughtfully as she just stared into the mug for a moment before looking over at him more. “Better find a bigger towel for me then.” She grinned as she took another sip. “And you were right about the kick but it is a good kick.” She decided smiling.

"It is, isn't it? There's a spice they seem to add to almost everything that I haven't quite managed to pinpoint but it's certainly got character." Unwinding his legs, the Risian rose and offered her a hand. "Come and see the laundry facilities, I'll show you the towels I have and you can take your pick." Lyndon grinned. "Modesty is fine, of course, though please don't concern yourself on my part." Holding up his free hand, he waggled the fingers on it. "I solemnly promises to only touch what I'm given permission to." With a tug, he lead her towards the small room off the bathroom.

"So, replicator is here, linen cupboard is here. You can take a bedsheet actually, if you'd prefer."

“One day, I might figure out what the spice is.” She rose from the floor at the tug and followed squeezing his hand allowing him to take her to the replicator. She let go and look at the replicator, it was a familiar unit. “I am sure of that or I would not be here Lyndon.” Indigo started to undo the shirt that she was wearing, revealing the vest top that was underneath. “I am far too old for modesty.”

Reaching up into the cupboard to pull down a couple of options, Lyndon considered the sentiment with a dip of his head to the side and a slight frown. "If there was an age limit to it, I was never made aware of it." Placing down several towels and, as suggested, a bed sheet, he leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead and placed his hands on her shoulders as he shimmied past to see to his own preparation. "Just come out when you're ready, I'll see what I can set up."

In more modest, (there was that word again), settings a massage table was usually the better option. It maintained a professional distance, allowed for better placement of whatever garments the client still wished to wear and also prevented the inevitable back cramping that came from stooping over for so long. Lyndon didn't have access to anything that would have satisfied him from a safety aspect and, having accepted Indigo's reassurances, also wasn't entirely sure that it was warranted. Instead, he drew down the cushions from the couches and draped the large blanket from his bed over the top. The oils in question were placed, still inside their glass jars, into a bowl of warm water.

The woman watched him leave, smiling at the turn of events. It had had become a very different night to the one she had envisioned but that was the way of the universe. It did not happened often that it threw up something as special and mind blowing as the night she was having. She started to remove the rest of her clothes, wrapping the bed sheet around herself and chucked them into the replicator and putting the sanitary setting. They were clean in under a minute and she pulled them out setting them on the chair before going in search of the man.

The bedsheet was light blue which amused her as it suited her bright blue hair and gave her a strange contrast as she leant against the door frame. “What do I have the pleasure of smelling like tonight?” She asked not able to see what the oils were.

"A choice between golden gildweed and dragonberry for a more traditional floral with fruity undertones, or I have a caramel crème here that smells divine. Here," Lyndon rose to his feet and crossed with both options uncapped. Lifting them up for her to smell, he winked. "Do you want to smell like a glorious Spring day or dessert?"

It was a hard choice for the woman but she had never been a fan of the flowery smell so something like dessert was much more her. "Dessert." She said simply. "I am not a fan of flowery smells though that does smell glorious." She grinned sniffing them both.

Lyndon smiled as if unsurprised and set the discarded option on a side table before uncorking her sweet selection and shaking it with finger pressed against the opening to create suction. The resulting splatter of oil left behind on his fingertip wound up playfully on the tip of her nose. "Come lie down then." He moved then, leading the way to the place in front of the fire that he'd tried to make as comfortable as possible. "You know," Lyndon continued conversationally, "I did wonder if a massage tent would fare any better than a kissing booth but it was the frivolity of the latter that caught my fancy. Why fly all the way this far to do exactly what I could be doing back home, right?"

Indigo wrinkled her nose and wiped it with a finger. It smelled just as good as on her as it did it the bottle. Sometimes you could not tell until after the oil heated up on your body but the oil did not seem so bad. “I think you made the right choice. Not sure a massage tent would suit the modesty that a lot of the Hysperian’s declare to be.” Thought Indigo had noted that a lot of the young ones were wearing more modern stylings to make day to day easier.

Patting the rug in front of him to reaffirm his first invitation, Lyndon pulled the bowl of warm water closer and sat the oil back into it. "In many ways," he confessed, "this place hasn't lived up to my expectations. Not that there's any need to criticise," he hurried on. "There's a lot to enjoy here, it's just... My mother used to speak of it a lot, when I was young, before she..." A spread of his hands stood in place of the word 'died'. "I've never really been able to figure out if she simply visited here, or if she lived here for any length of time. She was far more of a traveller than a lot of Risians are, she only really conceded to settle down when she met my father and became a mother and then she was gone. I suppose I romanticised the stories a little too much. Though," he conceded with a grin, "at least the dragons are real."

“The dragons are very much real.” She grinned as she knelt on the rug and then lay down. It would be easier to talk as they were not face to face. “I am sorry about your mum but it sounds like she had a full life travelling which is amazing.” Travelling eas something she had always wanted to do but it was not why she stuck with the rangers. She stuck with them as black and white were not always what they seemed and a more grey approach was needed sometimes.

"I like to think so." A cupped hand gathered a portion of oil and then drizzled it across her shoulders, strands of blue hair gathered in his empty hand to drape off to the side. "I do wish she had lived long enough to pass on some of the stories herself." Her skin was smooth and surprisingly warm, dappled only by the occasional blemish that hinted at a life beyond the gentle. Lyndon had often found the act of massage to be more akin to an interview, not just because of the conversation that evolved from it but because a person's body told its own story. He kept his touch light at first, spreading the oil as far as it would stretch before a second handful was needed. "Were your family travellers or have you chosen to step away from tradition yourself?"

Indigo could relate to that. She had lost her family a long time ago but that did not mean it hurt any less so she was not going to offer him any false comfort. Time did not always heal wounds but it did make them hurt less if you got old enough. “Travellers and story tellers.” She revealed wincing at the touch on one of her more annoyed muscles.

Like any trained masseuse worth seeking out, Lyndon targeted the area that had provoked the first flinch and worked his thumbs into the knots of tension. "Well, now that definitely sounds like an opportunity to share. I'm intrigued, what does a family of storytellers look like? Is it a vocation or a more private tradition?"

“It’s life. We tell stories and we listen.” She could not just come out with we are listeners but El Aurians were so much more than just listeners but that was what they were known for. “ It is just who we are. We do not want to lose our histories or anyone else’s.” It was a unique prospective but she was not sure how else to describe herself when there were so much out there about who they were or meant to be.

Though he had fallen into the trap where Hysperia was concerned, Lyndon still liked to think himself somewhat immune to the allure of cultural stereotypes if only because his own people tended to get ensnared by them just as frequently. He had met many representatives from many different walks of life but one thing the Risian had learned over the years was that the very nature of that interaction, and the location responsible for it, tended to shape the personalities represented. People ventured to Risa for one reason, usually, and though it was possible to be dragged there unwillingly by companions who believed in a one-size-fits-all approach to having a good time, it was exceedingly rare to find tourists who'd had no input into the choices behind their stay. Broadly speaking, you met a certain kind of person on Risa, no matter where in the galaxy they came from. It was part of the appeal of travel.

And so, whilst he would have liked to reassure her that he had no preconceived ideas about her people, Lyndon might just have easily have admitted to not knowing much at all about them in any case. He'd never met one, at least not one who had introduced themselves as such. The drag of his thumb, and the heel of his palm, in a line that eventually focused on her neck saw him pause to consider her response, unhindered by the silence that followed. "We have all the time we want for stories right now, if there are any you can think to share."

“I do not believe I have any stories that are suitable for this occasion but I am enjoying listening to you so that stereotype fits.” She teased lifting her head just a little to glanced at him with a wicked grin before hiding her face again. He was doing things to her neck that had been surely needed after the last few months of repeated issues and disturbances.

"That's cheating," Lyndon laughed, gliding the full length of his arm up the same line until his elbow finished the last of the work, repeating several times as he pondered an attempt to continue to be worth listening to. "I suppose the trouble with stories is knowing where to start. Usually, if it comes down to it and conversation needs a bit of a nudge, I find reciprocal questioning to work fairly well. I tell you what," he ran both hands down her arm towards her hand. "You go first. Anything's fair game, ask me whatever your heart desires."

Indigo let out several sounds as he worked on a muscle that was particularly stubborn and winced. She really needed to start taking better care of herself. “What has been your favourite treatment to give people?” She wondered starting with something simple like his job.

"As trite as it may sound, whatever brings them the most peace." Sitting cross-legged, Lyndon rested her arm against his leg and worked at the tension along her fingers. "I enjoy talking, I enjoy learning about other people, but on Risa in particular, some people just want time to settle inside their own head. Working in silence has its own beauty." He tilted to the side to peer at her face and winked. "If you could even call it working."

“You sound like you are a lot more at peace with yourself and the world around you than most people.” She laughed. It had to be nice to have something you enjoyed doing. “Working in silence would be my dream.” She said quietly. Just the thought of having no one talking to her for an hour on the ship would be a nice change of pace. The Romulans for all the sullenness were incredibly loud.

"Oh, I get plenty restless. I wouldn't be out here if that wasn't the case," Lyndon laughed. "And I think there's still an element of wandering left in me, which possibly makes me a tad unsettled by normal cultural standards." He pressed his thumb into the pad of her hand. "But I strive for contentment wherever I am, at least. Life seems altogether too short and precarious to be overly enamoured with its darker elements." He paused and then added with a smile, "At least for some of us."

"You should really talk to my friends. They wander tons." She said wincing as his thumb got a point on her hand that hurt but it was going to happen when she did not always take care of herself the way that other people did. Hard to not throw yourself into the path of danger when you were as well trained as she was nor with such a strong conviction of right and wrong.

The notion struck Lyndon as curious. Not so much the intimation that he should speak with them about it, not entirely understanding her meaning in that regard, but that any group could be described as such and still maintain a dedicated focus. "I presume not without purpose."

"Cargo runs." She said looking up at him as his hands had stopped and she smiled. "Even those who wander need a purpose." She quietly said wrapping her hand around his thumb.

Pulled from his reverie by the gesture, Lyndon paused a moment to study her face and then smiled, coaxing her hand open again so that, once turned, he could press a kiss to its palm. "So, I have a question of my own, I hope you won't find it too intrusive." Dark eyes sought hers. "Why are you here?" The way he cast his eyes quickly around the room indicated that he meant their present location, and the situation involved. "Please understand that there is no answer that will offend me, I'm simply curious." He reached with his free hand to move a strand of hair from her eyes. "I am trying to decide if you seem lonely," he confessed. "At times, you have seemed very present, sparkling and dazzling with intensity. The way you speak of things, however, makes me wonder..."

It was the question she had been expecting from the moment she had stepped into his living space but she had not mentally prepared herself despite it was something that had always challenged her. "I am not as young as I seem..." She said simply with a sad smile. Most people turned and ran away and accused her of being something she was not but she had never lied over her age, some people just found it challenging to see the old soul behind her eyes.

A pair of quizzical eyes regarded her intently. "Then how old are you?" It was asked in such a way as to convey more a sense of inquisitiveness than wariness, though it would perhaps have taken a far closer examination of Lyndon's previous associations to truly understand the man's lack of concern with chronology when it came to his expressions of intimacy.

"I lost count at 300." The woman said simply as she slowly made a more to wrap the sheet around her and sit up.

Lyndon smiled faintly. "Some would argue that counting at all is arbitrary and facile. There's hardly an easy basis for comparison when so many cultures determine chronological age based on the mathematics of their planet of origin. Federation Standard Time is observed in a lot of places," he added, "But it's by no means guaranteed."

Shuffling around on his knees, the Risian gently swept aside her hair and concentrated the gentle stroke of his fingertips across the bare skin of her shoulders. No matter which unit of measurement she used to determined her lifespan, she was immaculate. Life had left its blemishes but Lyndon saw them more as embellishments than flaws. "I'm not sure I quite follow the logic," he admitted. "You're here because you perceive yourself to be old?"

The woman shrugged. “Maybe you are right I was feeling lonely in my dotage.” She finally surmised to herself and him. She looked younger than him but it was hard to fathom her rational for going back to the kissing booth that day. She had been drinking sure and maybe that had wired her a little to do something reckless and out of character but it had been a feeling that she had been experiencing more and more in the last months as the universe shifted and morphed into something she had never seen before.

The press of a kiss to replace the trail of his fingertips saw Lyndon rise to his feet and offer the blue-haired beauty his hand. "Maybe," he replied softly, his voice an intimate husk, "we can do something to fix that."