amanda

Amanda/Sarek prompts

I really miss writing them. Prompt me, please? Song lyrics, interesting quotes, scenarios or plot descriptions, whatever. I can't promise that I will fill all of them, but I'd look upon it as a favor if you provided me with some potential inspiration.

Also, thank you to everyone for the book recs. I ended up with Graceling, which was not among the suggestions you offered, but it was in stock at the airport bookstore. So far, I like it. And, judging from your recommendations, I will have plenty to read after I finish it.
Clouds will rage in/Storms will race in/But you will be safe in my arms
A second one because I am a dirty whore: Someone makes the mistake of saying something bad about Sarek because he married a human in said human's hearing; this is a mistake. A very big mistake.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
So go ahead, push your luck
Say what it is you gotta say to me
We will push on into that mystery
And it'll push right back
And there are worse things than that
Cause for every price
And every penance that I could think of
It's better to have fallen in love
Than never to have fallen at all


("After All," Dar Williams)
OK, smarty, go to a party, girls are scantily clad, showing body. A chick walks by and you wish you could sex her, but you're standing on the wall like you was Poindexter.

(Sorry.)
Terran women do not wear as much clothing as Vulcan ones. He knew this before he arrived. Such limited attire was a logical response to Earth's more hospitable climate. Why should women disguise their legs or hair or the tops of their breasts when a thin layer of sunscreen was sufficient to protect them from the ravages of the sun?

Still, he was not prepared for the reality of it. He had not actually been in a room with so many bare legs before. He presses himself against the wall, sipping ice water in the hope of cooling down. The physiological urge to mate is not illogical, he reminds himself. It is a necessary mechanism for the survival of any species, even the Vulcan one. Like all other physical urges, it only needed to be controlled until an appropriate time.

Now is not an appropriate time.

And the junior attache to the Undersecretary for Human-Vulcan Affairs is not an appropriate partner. Ms. Grayson is a respected colleague. A more beautiful colleague than he had initially realized, but that is no reason to endanger a satisfying professional relationship.

She leaves the dance floor, breathing heavily. Her face is flushed red; her eyes are glittering. She sees him and smiles, and he retreats closer to the punch bowl, unwilling to speak to her when his control is so frail. He is fortunate that she commands the attention of many men tonight; one of them intercepts her before she reaches him. While she is distracted with the conversation, he takes a moment to study her. Aesthetic appreciation is not illogical. Understanding the source of one's desire is the first step in controlling it.

She is not a tall woman, but her legs are long and lean and a faint shade of tan that seems to indicate good health. Her hair, which he has only ever seen in a bun, spills down her back in a long cascade of curls. He traces their curlicue path over her rounded ears, her exposed shoulders, the faint curve at the small of her back. All these curves – her hair, her buttocks, the small humps of her breasts beneath the shining fabric of her dress – are so different from the straight lines and harsh angles of Vulcan. He does not wish to know her intellectually; he wants to explore the body that is the opposite of everything he has ever known.

He retreats further into the shadows while she slinks back to the dance floor. She catches his eye for the briefest second, and he realizes that she knows he's watching her. He doesn't look away.
You get what's in my earbuds when I open the box. Heh.

In this world we're just beginning to understand the miracle of living. Maybe I was afraid before; I'm not afraid any more.
It is. Heh. I had my mp3 player on shuffle, and this was what was playing when I went to comment to this post. :D
I would love to know about the constellations of Vulcan. Some (like Orion) should be essentially the same shapes, but with different names and stories, of course. I think Sarek and Amanda could have a really lovely conversation about some aspect of Vulcan's sky.
Warning: not re-read before posting
Amanda had imagined that she would find Vulcan irredeemably dry. No, worse than that. Arid, parched, incapable of sustaining life. Instead, she finds it peaceful. The hot breeze caresses her face and whispers over the sand dunes. The sound is not so different from wind rustling the leaves at night.

Sarek points at a line of three bright white stars, and she shifts her eyes upward to the red-tinged sky.

"Orion's belt," she says. "What's it called in Vulcan?"

"Star Formation 742A."

She laughs out loud then cuts herself off abruptly. Her human laughter seems too alien for this place.

Sarek looks at her, a single eyebrow raised.

"If you desire, I could fabricate a more original name."

She shakes her head, looking out at the expanse of sand and stars.

"No, Sarek, I like Vulcan the way it is."

She thinks of padds and ancient language texts heaped around the small office she'd rented in the Vulcan Language Academy's study center. There was some question, something about syntax, that she had wanted to ask Sarek, but she can't remember it now. For the better, she thinks. She could stand to leave the books alone for more than five minutes at a time.

"Thank you for liberating me from the office," she says. "I haven't done anything like this -- " she gestures out at the open desert and sky -- "since I was married."

The revelation startles her a little. She did not, as a rule, talk often about her divorce, especially not with men she may be dating.

"I was not aware you had been married before," Sarek says noncommittally. On Earth, this would have been a judgment; on Vulcan, it was a diplomat's question, phrased to allow her to elaborate as little or as much as she chooses.

"We were young. And foolish. Well, him especially, but me too."

She thinks she hears a faint snort. She looks over at Sarek, but he is not looking at her. His fingers, splayed on the balcony a few inches from hers, shift infinitesimally closer. Closer than a friend, she thinks, further than a lover. The perfect summation of her month-long not-quite-relationship with Sarek.

When he finally looks at her, she is surprised to see mischief in his eyes.

"I can only hope," he says, "that my first wife speaks so kindly of me."

This time, she does not stifle her laughter.
Re: Warning: not re-read before posting
I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR SAREK. I love his sense of humor, which feels irredeemably and ethnocentrically human to say, but it's so dry and differently-perspectived and Vulcan and still utterly humorous. Your Sarek is a masterpiece of characterization.

And so is your wonderful Amanda. *beams*

Thank you for this. Today is going to be bad, but I will carrry the thought of Amanda, Sarek, and the stars inside me all through the day.
Re: Warning: not re-read before posting
Whee! I am so glad you liked it this much, especially Sarek's sense of humor. I mean, how could he marry a human and not? He must, by Vulcan standards, be quite the rebel, especially if you factor in a divorce. I usually ignore that bit of canon, but it is fun to incorporate here. I'm so pleased that it added some cheer to your day - writing it certainly added some joy to mine.
"Strange Hurt" by Langston Hughes

In times of stormy weather
She felt queer pain
That said,
“You’ll find rain better
Than shelter from the rain.”

Days filled with fiery sunshine
Strange hurt she knew
That made
Her seek the burning sunlight
Rather than the shade.

In months of snowy winter
When cozy houses hold,
She’d break down doors
To wander naked
In the cold.
"What is it? My dear?"

"Ah, how can we bear it?"

"Bear what?"

"This. For so short a time. How can we sleep this time away?"

"We can be quiet together, and pretend--since it is only the beginning--that we have all the time in the world."

"And every day we shall have less. And then none."

"Would you rather, therefore, have had nothing at all?"

"No. This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere."

-A. S. Byatt, Possession