Whatever Floats Your Boat

Posted on Mon Jul 29th, 2024 @ 10:00am by Ensign Vivienne Conrad & Commodore Jacob Kane
Edited on on Mon Jul 29th, 2024 @ 12:15pm

Mission: Into the Qniverse
Location: ??
1513 words - 3 OF Standard Post Measure

It really didn't need to be so damn quiet.

Though she had no accurate means of measuring time, it had taken approximately fifteen minutes for Vivienne to work up the nerve to return to the tower bedroom. Having done her best to leave it partially obliterated in her haste to distance herself from what had appeared, at first, to be a classic case of 'wrong person, wrong place', the torn piece of bed-canopy had served quite well as a shroud worn around the shoulders to stave off the pervasive chill. From her perch on the bottom step, elbows digging into her knees, she might actually have stood a chance at fading into obscurity beneath the heavy material had it not been such a garish shade of fuchsia pink. In silence, Vivienne had huddled there, staring into the darkness, ears trained for any indication that the shenanigans upstairs had devolved into an impatient query regarding the absence of expected guests. The only sound besides her own breathing was the occasional deep-chested evidence of the sleeping Commodore's level of relaxation, which seemed several very stiff drinks ahead of what Vivienne would have expected of the man. At least by now she was pretty certain that he was passed out and not that she'd stumbled into an admittedly-convincing charade. Intoxication didn't answer many questions but it was a start.

Despite a natural disposition that might have always gifted her a fairly broad and open acceptance of the diversity of sentient life, there was no doubt that a grounding in Risian philosophy had granted Vivienne the ability to turn a blind eye to most things. On a place like Risa, kink-shaming was bad for business, and it had risen in notoriety as a holiday destination as much for the appetites it accommodated as the local repertoire it could add to the entertainment list. She had learnt very early on not to make assumptions based on the public persona some guests felt it necessary to maintain and, as far as niche fetishes went, a penchant for cross-dressing and roleplay was positively tame in comparison to some of the salacious preferences she'd encountered. She still wouldn't have pegged Kane for the type.

Of more alarm, Vivienne realised as she slowly made her way back up the stairs, was his reaction to her presence and what it would mean for her service record to add 'violated a Superior Officer's intimate privacy' to the list of dubious credentials she'd already accumulated. A reluctance to find out saw her hover at the top a little longer than necessary before peering around the door for signs of disturbance. The room was just as she'd left it, still dimly lit by the ridiculously arranged torches, with the circular mat flipped over at the edge where the speed of her retreat had dislodged it. Over on the bed, still resplendent in the carefully curated outfit she could only assume achieved the desired effect almost perfectly, Kane looked just about as peaceful as he had initially and had not altered his position even slightly. Any concerns that his slumber was a ruse had long passed but it still took another moment for Vivienne to soft-foot her way over to get a closer look at his chosen aesthetic. Stopping a couple of metres from the edge of the bed, she rose up to tip-toe to get a better look and wrinkled her nose in partial-disapproval.

It was a terrible colour-palette for his complexion, for a start.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Vivienne wondered if she ought to try to wake him up. She had no idea where they were or how they'd got there, much less what the intention was behind the highly-atmospheric set-up to begin with, but she couldn't imagine that the floating, delicate chiffon of his nightgown, even festooned with ruffles and frills as it was, was very warm. For reasons currently devoid of logical interpretation, Kane wasn't tucked comfortably into the bed but rather lay draped atop the covers, hands settled comfortably one over the other atop his sternum. The nest of golden curls reputedly meant to softly frame his face sat a little askew, dislodged perhaps by the effort to position himself, and a single ringlet was currently settled over the top of a closed eyelid. He looked peaceful, Vivienne conceded, but try as she might to understand how the evening's proceedings had detoured, she couldn't figure out how he'd got there with any time to nod off when her last clear memory had involved him yelling in the background behind her.

Shuffling uncertainly, and in an attempt to keep the blood circulating to her frozen extremities, Vivienne caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror over an elegant vanity and frowned. If she'd had time to exchange clothing with some poor unfortunate bard, she supposed there was a chance she'd lost track of enough time between the party and whatever this was for Kane to end up napping in a castle tower in the middle of a dark and decidedly empty forest. It seemed a small coincidence that their outfits were thematically similar, and just as unlikely that she hadn't encountered even the slightest sign of an invited visitor, which was a little on the concerning side. Other than everything being so dark and silent, and cold, the only threat she'd really encountered was her own clumsiness. Kane must have been expecting someone, however, this was a lot of very specific effort to go to for solo gratification. There was almost always a second party.

Well, it'd be a third party now, since she'd stumbl...

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Eyebrows raised, Vivienne turned back to her Commanding Officer and fixed him with an expression that might have been a smidgen judgemental. The offense was not so much at the proposition but at the presumption, to just plop the nearly-Risian into the scenario with an expectation that she'd play along, no questions asked. As her hands found her hips, her brows lowered until they knit, a deep frown that protested a lack of enough cocktails for her to properly deal with the predicament she was definitely pretty sure she'd not signed up for. Unless she had. The night was proving to be very hard to contextualise, which suggested the absence of some key memories.

From almost any angle, it was still a bloody weird way to seek jamaharon.

From seemingly the ether - certainly not from any recognisable sound system or communications technology - a gently romantic tune began to play. It filled the air with a soft and imperceptible glow as faint beams of sunlight drifted in through the open window, illuminating and highlighting the bed where the Commodore lay.

~"...Once upon a dream..."~

Correction; now it was a bloody weird way to seek spiritual release. That's what the foreigners called it, right? When they were too tongue-tied to call it what it actually was? With the rolling back of her head came the eventual slump of acceptance, slack-jawed defeat allowing Vivienne a moment to stare up at the ceiling to curse whatever deity Kane thought to hold responsible for this entire debacle. It took her a moment but a slide sideways that redirected only her gaze turned the niggling suspicion in her peripheral vision into a full-blown clarification of what the intricate carvings that dominated each of the bedposts actually represented. She had to hand it to the man, it was the first time she'd heard of the entire spiritual vessel, as it were, presented as a horga'hn, but the creativity behind the idea only made it all the more baffling that she'd never once picked up the slightest inkling that he had aspirations of this excruciatingly specific nature. Was it bad manners to turn down sex with your Commanding Officer? Weren't there rules that kicked you up the arse for that kind of thing?

Only if you get caught.

Well...that explained the forest in the middle of no where, probably.

With an irritated huff, Vivienne turned back to the bed to fix its sole occupant with a disgruntled frown. "Couldn't have gone for Peter Pan or something with a bit of oomph? Three Musketeers? Pirates of Penzance?" Stepping closer, she peered down at his sleeping features and shook her head. "You'd look better as a brunette."

Thus far, delaying the inevitable had proven nothing. At the very least, she needed Kane awake and in the mood to explain himself, and when it was clear that her voice had very little influence on his repose, Vivienne uttered one of the many expletives she'd perfected from various cultures across the years and bent down to scruff the front of his nightgown.

"Time for Sleeping Beauty to wake up and get talking."

The kiss was only marginally softer than the slap to the cheek that immediately followed.