Kira Nerys (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thenewways) wrote2016-06-21 11:13 pm
thenewways) wrote2016-06-21 11:13 pm
Writing Sample: For a Very Small Heart
For a Very Small Heart
Kira Nerys stared at the communique on her screen as if she could will the text to be replaced with something else, her raktajino going cold on the table beside her, her attention unmoved by the squeals of delight over at the dabo table. A shipping manifest, springball match results, even one of Vedek Winn’s latest screeds—at least those didn’t bring up a numb feeling in her gut quite like this request, which was an offer she couldn’t refuse.
It really was a great honor. Or something.
“You will not believe who I just caught behind the turbolift conduits in the habitat ring,” This from Jadzia Dax, sliding backwards onto the chair across from Kira, straddling it and resting her chin on the top of the back. Her entire face was animated with the thrill of Station Scuttlebutt.
“Uh-huh,” said Nerys, barely looking up.
“Ensign Swari and Velis Lamartya from the security team! Finally! It’s not like we haven’t all been rooting for them for six months now!"
"Uh-huh."
"Admittedly, I did have to tell them to stop going at it like wellens in the rainy season, before Odo catches them, but I think they got the spirit I intended it in--Major? Nerys?”
“Uh-huh,” said Nerys, or started to, just as Dax snapped her fingers gently in the space between her line of sight and the PADD. She winced and blinked, looking up with a dazed expression, and managed a half-hearted “Swari and Velis, huh? About time,” as she flicked the tablet into standby mode.
“Never mind, forget them. You look,” Dax said, pointing a finger at Nerys, “like someone’s sentenced you to a week in the brig, and they’ve just sent you a quick line to your work inbox to let you know.”
“It’s fine. Just...” Nerys waved her hand vaguely, weakly. “Bajoran stuff. Religious stuff.”
Dax cleared her throat, somehow managing to instantly compose her face and look slightly more serious. “You know...I don’t know a lot about it, but I’m always happy to listen if you need someone. I swear I won’t judge. Except where stuff obviously needs judging.”
It was impossible for Nerys not to smile at that, if a little wryly. “I know. Thanks. It’s just something I’m going to have to suck up and deal with, though, and--“ She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair before making a soft noise of disgust. “Look at me, this is nothing compared to the shit I deal with on a regular basis. It’s just the Bajoran council asking me to be Presider at the station’s Gratitude Festival this year.”
“But that’s fantastic,” said Jadzia, before she could think about Kira’s expression of downtrodden panic. “Well, I mean, it’s a great honor--“
“Funny, that’s what I was thinking,” Nerys muttered, sotto voce.
“And the Festival last year was so much fun. The Presider’s basically just there to make sure everyone has a good time, and start off the burning of the scrolls, not anything fancy. I’m sorry, I just don’t understand why you’re not excited. It’s great to see everyone out on the Promenade in fancy clothes, and the acrobats and clowns, and the street food.”
“You know, maybe it makes me bad at being Bajoran? But I hate jumja sticks,” Nerys said, leaning her chin on her hand in mock thought. “It’s the texture, they’re so slimy. Like a toad. No, like licking pond scum off a toad.”
“You’re dodging the issue, Nerys,” Dax retorted. “What’s wrong with being the Presider?”
Nerys looked down into her cold mug of coffee, scrubbing her hand through the hair at the back of her neck once more before she met Dax’s eyes, so brilliant and bright and kind. Somehow Dax managed, despite all the things she’d seen, all the people she’d met, to be genuinely open and caring about the people she knew. It was something Nerys was still trying to learn; or maybe she was just trying to unlearn the lessons of occupation, to let herself be a friend.
Truth be told, she was feeling anything but gratitude this year. For a start, things with Odo hadn’t been the same since the Vaatrik nightmare had come up again. Bareil was a situation she just wasn’t sure about, and along with Bareil came Bajoran politics, hand in hand. And the Federation—even though she knew this was the way forward, that Sisko truly had Bajor’s back, she was constantly frustrated by those who seemed to think she was part of the problem rather than part of the answer. She was safer now than she had ever been, had security and status she’d never imagined, and yet the fulfillment of that dream still didn’t make her happy.
“I just...don’t know how to do it, how not to fake it,” she admitted to Dax, and took a sip of her now truly awful drink. “We always did the Festival, in the camps, but it was grasping at straws, trying to keep a candle lit at midnight on a windy day. It wasn’t ever really about the meaning, just going through motions. And now I’m not grateful enough for all the things I’ve got, I could write a scroll a kilometer long, only with stupid little things. Everything I’ve gained has had a price. So how am I supposed to convince anyone with some poorly pronounced High Bajoran and a smile plastered on my face?”
Dax considered this for a minute. “You mean you really do think you’re bad at being Bajoran.”
“Yes. They need to find someone who knows what the hell she’s talking about when she says ‘Peldor joi’, someone who truly believes that the Prophets read all those scrolls, someone with a joyful heart, because like fuck do I have a joyful heart, I mean come on--“
“Nerys,” said Jadzia, “have you considered that maybe they want you because you’re you?” She reached across and put a hand over Nerys’, resting on the top of the mug. “Maybe they want someone like them, one of their people, who might not be perfect and say everything in the right order, but who’s been there with them, survived, and, damn it, is still here to wish everyone a damn good Festival.”
There was a long moment’s silence, after which Dax patted Nerys’ hand and got up from the table. “Quark, the major needs a refresher on her raktajino. Put it on my tab.” She winked at Nerys, turning to go. “We’ll call it a Peldor gift. By the way, if you need a hand with the lanterns again this year, you know where to find me.”
Still slightly stunned, still processing, Nerys nodded simply, then watched her friend ease out of the bar with a flick of dark hair and a brilliant smile. Her brow furrowed, and she let out a long, slow sigh between pursed lips, turning back to the PADD.
Thunk. A heavy, steaming mug of coffee landed on the table in front of her.
“We should all have friends like that Lieutenant Dax,” said Quark wistfully, leaning over the table with a faint leer on his face.
“Like you’d know,” Nerys replied--because the drink and the topic had done exactly what Jadzia had intended in dragging her out of reverie. She could bait Quark all day.
“Yeah,” Quark sighed. “I sure as hell wouldn’t be moping around here like someone’d kicked my targ, that’s for sure. Friends who pay your bar bill--those are golden. If slightly misguided.”
Nerys laughed, downing half the raktajino in one go as she got to her feet. It singed her throat on the way down, but that was the best way to drink it, after all. “You should add that one to the Rules of Acquisition,” she said, and strode out onto the Promenade.
She had to hand it to Quark for once, he was right. Friendship was at least one thing she could definitely mark in the gratitude column, and maybe--she turned on her heel and headed towards Security--she should work on making her list of regrets a little bit shorter.
Kira Nerys stared at the communique on her screen as if she could will the text to be replaced with something else, her raktajino going cold on the table beside her, her attention unmoved by the squeals of delight over at the dabo table. A shipping manifest, springball match results, even one of Vedek Winn’s latest screeds—at least those didn’t bring up a numb feeling in her gut quite like this request, which was an offer she couldn’t refuse.
It really was a great honor. Or something.
“You will not believe who I just caught behind the turbolift conduits in the habitat ring,” This from Jadzia Dax, sliding backwards onto the chair across from Kira, straddling it and resting her chin on the top of the back. Her entire face was animated with the thrill of Station Scuttlebutt.
“Uh-huh,” said Nerys, barely looking up.
“Ensign Swari and Velis Lamartya from the security team! Finally! It’s not like we haven’t all been rooting for them for six months now!"
"Uh-huh."
"Admittedly, I did have to tell them to stop going at it like wellens in the rainy season, before Odo catches them, but I think they got the spirit I intended it in--Major? Nerys?”
“Uh-huh,” said Nerys, or started to, just as Dax snapped her fingers gently in the space between her line of sight and the PADD. She winced and blinked, looking up with a dazed expression, and managed a half-hearted “Swari and Velis, huh? About time,” as she flicked the tablet into standby mode.
“Never mind, forget them. You look,” Dax said, pointing a finger at Nerys, “like someone’s sentenced you to a week in the brig, and they’ve just sent you a quick line to your work inbox to let you know.”
“It’s fine. Just...” Nerys waved her hand vaguely, weakly. “Bajoran stuff. Religious stuff.”
Dax cleared her throat, somehow managing to instantly compose her face and look slightly more serious. “You know...I don’t know a lot about it, but I’m always happy to listen if you need someone. I swear I won’t judge. Except where stuff obviously needs judging.”
It was impossible for Nerys not to smile at that, if a little wryly. “I know. Thanks. It’s just something I’m going to have to suck up and deal with, though, and--“ She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair before making a soft noise of disgust. “Look at me, this is nothing compared to the shit I deal with on a regular basis. It’s just the Bajoran council asking me to be Presider at the station’s Gratitude Festival this year.”
“But that’s fantastic,” said Jadzia, before she could think about Kira’s expression of downtrodden panic. “Well, I mean, it’s a great honor--“
“Funny, that’s what I was thinking,” Nerys muttered, sotto voce.
“And the Festival last year was so much fun. The Presider’s basically just there to make sure everyone has a good time, and start off the burning of the scrolls, not anything fancy. I’m sorry, I just don’t understand why you’re not excited. It’s great to see everyone out on the Promenade in fancy clothes, and the acrobats and clowns, and the street food.”
“You know, maybe it makes me bad at being Bajoran? But I hate jumja sticks,” Nerys said, leaning her chin on her hand in mock thought. “It’s the texture, they’re so slimy. Like a toad. No, like licking pond scum off a toad.”
“You’re dodging the issue, Nerys,” Dax retorted. “What’s wrong with being the Presider?”
Nerys looked down into her cold mug of coffee, scrubbing her hand through the hair at the back of her neck once more before she met Dax’s eyes, so brilliant and bright and kind. Somehow Dax managed, despite all the things she’d seen, all the people she’d met, to be genuinely open and caring about the people she knew. It was something Nerys was still trying to learn; or maybe she was just trying to unlearn the lessons of occupation, to let herself be a friend.
Truth be told, she was feeling anything but gratitude this year. For a start, things with Odo hadn’t been the same since the Vaatrik nightmare had come up again. Bareil was a situation she just wasn’t sure about, and along with Bareil came Bajoran politics, hand in hand. And the Federation—even though she knew this was the way forward, that Sisko truly had Bajor’s back, she was constantly frustrated by those who seemed to think she was part of the problem rather than part of the answer. She was safer now than she had ever been, had security and status she’d never imagined, and yet the fulfillment of that dream still didn’t make her happy.
“I just...don’t know how to do it, how not to fake it,” she admitted to Dax, and took a sip of her now truly awful drink. “We always did the Festival, in the camps, but it was grasping at straws, trying to keep a candle lit at midnight on a windy day. It wasn’t ever really about the meaning, just going through motions. And now I’m not grateful enough for all the things I’ve got, I could write a scroll a kilometer long, only with stupid little things. Everything I’ve gained has had a price. So how am I supposed to convince anyone with some poorly pronounced High Bajoran and a smile plastered on my face?”
Dax considered this for a minute. “You mean you really do think you’re bad at being Bajoran.”
“Yes. They need to find someone who knows what the hell she’s talking about when she says ‘Peldor joi’, someone who truly believes that the Prophets read all those scrolls, someone with a joyful heart, because like fuck do I have a joyful heart, I mean come on--“
“Nerys,” said Jadzia, “have you considered that maybe they want you because you’re you?” She reached across and put a hand over Nerys’, resting on the top of the mug. “Maybe they want someone like them, one of their people, who might not be perfect and say everything in the right order, but who’s been there with them, survived, and, damn it, is still here to wish everyone a damn good Festival.”
There was a long moment’s silence, after which Dax patted Nerys’ hand and got up from the table. “Quark, the major needs a refresher on her raktajino. Put it on my tab.” She winked at Nerys, turning to go. “We’ll call it a Peldor gift. By the way, if you need a hand with the lanterns again this year, you know where to find me.”
Still slightly stunned, still processing, Nerys nodded simply, then watched her friend ease out of the bar with a flick of dark hair and a brilliant smile. Her brow furrowed, and she let out a long, slow sigh between pursed lips, turning back to the PADD.
Thunk. A heavy, steaming mug of coffee landed on the table in front of her.
“We should all have friends like that Lieutenant Dax,” said Quark wistfully, leaning over the table with a faint leer on his face.
“Like you’d know,” Nerys replied--because the drink and the topic had done exactly what Jadzia had intended in dragging her out of reverie. She could bait Quark all day.
“Yeah,” Quark sighed. “I sure as hell wouldn’t be moping around here like someone’d kicked my targ, that’s for sure. Friends who pay your bar bill--those are golden. If slightly misguided.”
Nerys laughed, downing half the raktajino in one go as she got to her feet. It singed her throat on the way down, but that was the best way to drink it, after all. “You should add that one to the Rules of Acquisition,” she said, and strode out onto the Promenade.
She had to hand it to Quark for once, he was right. Friendship was at least one thing she could definitely mark in the gratitude column, and maybe--she turned on her heel and headed towards Security--she should work on making her list of regrets a little bit shorter.