The text message and following breakfast yesterday morning had been troubling. A perfectly good serving of waffles and fruit had been ruined by Spock's sullen, self-tormenting mood, and then perpetuated by the advent (and dismissal of) some chocolate-chip pancakes that were replaced, after some debate ("This habit is destructive, and I'm not carrying you out of here."), by a traditional Vulcan porridge completely composed of non-inebriating ingredients. The victory had been small, and Sybok didn't bother relishing it when he was already thinking about how to talk with this captain, this...human.
Standing here waiting for Jim to come by hadn't exactly been a happenstance. Sybok hadn't stalked him, because that wasn't his modus operandi. He simply asked around, casual questions about a blue-eyed, blond-haired, fortunate looking human and his comings and goings on the beach until a young Vulcan in a loose white beach robe had told (mind or voice, Sybok didn't remember and didn't care) that he had seen such a human come by and rent his equipment for a specific location. So Sybok had found a place on the beach where he could see the sky, the ocean, and everthing within a five mile radius.
As the night came closer, his gaze was drawn towards where there would soon emerge a smattering of stars clustered toward the center of the galaxy. His eyes closed, thinking--he'd get there, someday--and when he opened his eyes, he could see a familiar figure treading through the sand towards him.
"Jim!" He caught his attention with a wave and a friendly smile; he wore a grey shirt and a pair of trousers that were strictly off-planet fashion, that kind of clean-but-cheap garb that let him walk around the planet without drawing unwanted attention to himself. Laborers had their place and he was more than willing to masquerade in their strata to move unseen.
"Have a nice swim?" Sybok guessed as he came up to Jim's side, falling seamlessly in with his pace through the sand. "I'd like to talk about a few things, if you don't mind?"
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Date: 2010-05-26 03:41 am (UTC)Standing here waiting for Jim to come by hadn't exactly been a happenstance. Sybok hadn't stalked him, because that wasn't his modus operandi. He simply asked around, casual questions about a blue-eyed, blond-haired, fortunate looking human and his comings and goings on the beach until a young Vulcan in a loose white beach robe had told (mind or voice, Sybok didn't remember and didn't care) that he had seen such a human come by and rent his equipment for a specific location. So Sybok had found a place on the beach where he could see the sky, the ocean, and everthing within a five mile radius.
As the night came closer, his gaze was drawn towards where there would soon emerge a smattering of stars clustered toward the center of the galaxy. His eyes closed, thinking--he'd get there, someday--and when he opened his eyes, he could see a familiar figure treading through the sand towards him.
"Jim!" He caught his attention with a wave and a friendly smile; he wore a grey shirt and a pair of trousers that were strictly off-planet fashion, that kind of clean-but-cheap garb that let him walk around the planet without drawing unwanted attention to himself. Laborers had their place and he was more than willing to masquerade in their strata to move unseen.
"Have a nice swim?" Sybok guessed as he came up to Jim's side, falling seamlessly in with his pace through the sand. "I'd like to talk about a few things, if you don't mind?"