genessia | Baby it's Cold Outside [CLOSED]

[Winter is far more comfortable in the cold than her unfortunate companion. She can walk through the snow in her high-heeled boots and not slip. Once a child of Atlas, always a child of Atlas. Her hair is down, and though she has a scarf and gloves, her coat isn't nearly as thick, and there's nothing covering her ears. It might as well be spring.]

[Upon seeing Spock, her smile brightens.]

I hope you weren't waiting out here too long. Hiking through snow is one thing, but standing in it? That can't be fun.

[Her breath leaks in soft white curls of mist as she tilts her head back to grin up at him. At least she's still as punctual as her usual self, so she's not late. But he'd better be vocal when he reaches his limit for freezing weather, because Winter is far more tolerant of the frigid temperature.]

[He can leave his hands in his pockets, though. She doesn't mind taking his arm, and is rather comfortable in doing so.]

No, I only got here a few minutes ago. I think it'll be fine once we're moving about.

[Well, hopefully it will be. He doesn't want to seem a wuss so he has no plans on complaining about the cold. He's hoping she'll show signs of being cold before he does so he can look the gentleman, but based on the little effect the cold is having on her (seriously, those heels in this snow? Now that's impressive), it's not looking good.

At least his hand's still in his pocket.

He begins to lead her down the path and under the canopy of snow-covered trees. Glancing over at her, he has to admit: her name suits her. The aesthetic of the season matches her looks very well ~~almost like it was planned that way~~]

So what have you been doing with yourself this week? Since your training camp didn't meet, I mean.

[He's realized he actually knows very little about her outside of her work.]

Spending time with my family, mostly.

[She smiles, reaching out to push a bare branch out of her path with her gloved fingertips.]

It's strange. My father...the one I remember...was always incredibly controlling, and strict. He dictated every aspect of my life and that of my siblings. It got to the point where I abdicated my claim as the 'heiress' of the family company to follow my own path as a Huntress.

But here, he remembers a life that was completely different, with baking cookies, and breakfast for dinner.

[She has no problems opening up, since he asked. She does pause for a moment, wondering if she's saying too much, and she glances at his face to see if there's any trace of discomfort. Seeing none, her shoulders hitch as she chuckles.]

He's never been this warm or sincere. At first I didn't know what to think of it, but now...I don't know. I don't want it to end.

[Her shoulder bumps against his, keeping the mood light.]

What about you? What's your family like?

[There is no trace of discomfort because there's none to be had! The whole thing is very curious to him, and human or not, Spock can't help but be interested in an enigma.]

Interesting. I wonder if it's possible for us to come from different universes as well? We can come from different times, so it's not that far of a stretch. The him you knows sounds very controlling, though, so I'd say just run with it. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

[He looks up, thinking.]

My father isn't as controlling as yours, but he'd definitely prefer if I were someone else. I don't think that raising me as a human was ever part of his plan. Hell, having me probably wasn't; no half-human half-Vulcan has lived as long as I have. Most die pretty young. But as much as he claims to not have emotions or whatever he couldn't refuse my mom.

[A gentle smile crosses his face.]

My mom is pretty great. She can be a little over-protective sometimes, but she's always supported me in whatever I wanted to to and has talked my dad down a few times. She was probably my closest friend before I met Jim. [He pauses, looking over at her.] Do you know him? Jim Kirk? He's here too.

[Kirk hadn't recognized her name, but you never know! Maybe he just couldn't put the name to the face.]

[Winter smiles warmly as she listens to the way he talks about his mother. She almost envies thecloseness they shared, but more than that, she's glad to know he had someone on his side who fought for him to make his own decisions. Everyone needs a person like that in their lives.]

I saw a man with that name around the same time I first arrived. But we haven't spoken to one another, no. Your roommate, I assume?

[Another scraggly bush forces Winter to huddle closer to her date. But once they're past the snowy shrub, she deliberately chooses to stay right where she is.]

What did your father want you to be, anyway?

[He smiles down at her when she remains close. Not only is it extra warmth, it's a good sign.]

Yeah, and my captain. He can be a womanizer sometimes so I never know who he knows. Not that I think that you'd necessarily respond to his advances, but the possibility that he made some is ever present.

[He lifts a branch protruding in front of their path, waiting for them to both cross under it before dropping it back into place.]

He wanted me to attend the Vulcan Space Academy. Not sure what he wanted me to do there, but it's the top school for Vulcans. I'm not sure if they would have accepted me, though, had I applied, since I wasn't raised as one. [He pauses his speech. This may be too personal, but they're sharing, so worth a shot.] Why was your father so adamant that you become an heiress if you didn't want to?

That would depend on whether or not he's more charming than you. Which I doubt.

[It's all just flirtation, of course. She's already decided she likes Spock enough that she'd prefer to spend time with him, not his captain. And Spock may not be charming in the traditional sense with smooth words and predatory confidence, but his dorkiness is unique and refreshing. She likes him.]

I'm curious to know what the Vulcan Space Academy does differently than Starfleet.

[But since he's asking about her father, well. Both Winters feel more or less the same. She exhales, resulting in a more prominent plume of white mist from her lips.]

Because my father mistakes obedience for love. He's not...evil, or wicked. At least, I don't think he means to be.

[Her brow furrows. It still doesn't excuse what he tried to do to Weiss, and she's quiet for a moment as she fights down her temper.]

For so many years, I tried so hard to please him...to be graceful, and well-spoken, a gifted pianist, a savvy businesswoman. But he expected perfection from day one, and dealt with mistakes harshly. It was an unpleasant and stressful childhood.

[His smile grows at her praise. She might not actually know Kirk to compare him to, but he's willing to play the fool that he's more charming than his captain.]

The VSA is the top scientific research institute Vulcan has to offer. It's a real prestigious place, and if you get in, you don't turn them down. Whereas the VSA focuses on the hard sciences, Starfleet is focused more on exploration and defense. Don't get me wrong, I love science, but I wanted to see the galaxy.

[He pays close attention to her talk of her father, a frown on his face as he helps guide her over a fallen log.]

I'm very sorry to hear that. He never seemed that bad when he was giving his speeches, but I guess everyone has something to hide... [Well this is a depressing topic. Time to switch!]

Do you still play the piano?

I can see that. There's a quiet passion about you...

[The tip of her heel catches on a rough knot in the wood, and her appraisal is cut short into a weirdly girlish bleat as she pitches into his chest.]

[But he's sturdy, and he's got her hand in his. She looks up at him with sheepish gratitude and flushed cheeks. Winter isn't ordinarily a clumsy person. But she's also more accustomed to doing things herself instead of relying on others, so it takes some getting used to. Holding to his hand and shoulder, she works her foot free and straightens herself with a happy 'whew' of relief.]

Nice catch~

[Rather than taking his arm again, she decides she prefers to keep holding his hand. Even with the gloves, it feels nice to be linked together.]

Well, he wouldn't. Father knows how to use his words better than I know how to use a sword, and he's just as efficient and deadly. It matters little now, since his memories are so different, but once those memories fade... Just tread with a little more caution, unlike me.

[She jerks her head back toward the log with a playful grin. She chuckles at the mention of the piano, then shakes her head.]

No, it's been over ten years. I must be dreadfully rusty at it. They're not really suitable for travel, you know. But I've been setting aside a little of my savings each month so I can afford one for my apartment someday.

[Real Winter is too. She just hasn't seen fit to tell anyone, up until now.]

What about you, any hobbies or hidden talents?

[Spock is immensely grateful for his sharp reflexes - that could have ended the whole date right there. If he had any hesitations that this wasn't going well, they were quashed as soon as Winter took his hand. Even through the fabric he was able to feel the peace in her mind, dotted with affection and a hint of embarrassment at her slip. Were he in his normal Vulcan mind he might have relinquished her hand as soon as she was steady, but now? He's happy to keep it in his possession.

I'm sorry to hear that - about your father and your skill. I don't think I can do much to help with the former, but there has to be a place here with a piano you could practice on? I'm sure someone is giving lessons too, if you're in the need.

[He steps over a fallen log before them, turning once he's cleared it to assist Winter. Capable or not, those heels on this terrain have him a little worried.]

I don't really do much outside of research. Back on the ship I'd play the Vulcan lute sometimes, but those aren't really easy to come by on this planet. Looks like neither of us are able to keep up in our musical prowess. Unless there's some more accessible instrument you play? Or perhaps you can sing as your sister does?

I don't have her talent for it.

[Perhaps if she'd practiced, but she didn't. Once it became clear how much Weiss loved to sing, Winter turned her attention to an instrument instead.]

Those are excellent suggestions, though. If I didn't know any better, I'd begin assuming you're eager to hear me play.

[She flashes a mischievous smile at him. Clearly he's only trying to help her out, but she'd like to play a song for him. The only true difficulty will be in deciding which one -- something fiery and spirited, or calm and composed? She'll have to think about it.]

What about your lute? Do you recall how they were made? Certainly there must be a crafter of instruments that may be able to fashion a replica for you.

[It takes a moment for Winter to come back to herself. A long, long moment. With Spock reclining on his back, and Winter nestled snugly at his side, she's oddly comfortable. One hand is on his chest where his heart would be, her head is on his shoulder, and her legs are lightly tangled with his.]

[She's slowly become resigned to her role as a mere passenger as she watches this other Winter live so freely in her body, making decisions that had Winter furious and gritting her metaphorical teeth. So she hasn't quite realized that she's back in control, and that the other side of her has vanished. All she knows is that this really wasn't so bad as she dreaded it to be.]

[But as she does slowly come to her consciousness, she becomes aware that she can't feel the thump of a heart under her palm where there should be one.]

[She sits up sharply, eyes wide. She knows he'd been cold when they'd cuddled up together on the couch under her blanket, but to think that he might have died from the chill... The fool! Her hand pats at him, fingers moving to press against the side of his neck...]

[There's a flutter of movement. And he's breathing too, she realizes. Winter exhales. Perhaps she is the fool. He'd claimed to be of another species, his biology isn't necessarily the same as a human's. There's no telling where his heart is, and it would be far too invasive to just start patting him down trying to find it.]

[Her gaze shifts with a quick flick to his face. Is he still asleep? If so, she'll carefully begin to ease herself away from him. If not, then Winter is frozen in place, at a rare loss for words to explain herself in this very precarious situation with her hand on his neck and her body half-draped over his.]

[Spock had been pretty comfortable himself last night, an arm wrapped around Winter's waist and his other hand resting upon the one she had placed on his chest. He might have been content to just stay there and keep up the strange dream, but there's a sudden surge of panic, and it's not his. Which can only mean...

His eyes snap open, and - oh. Not a dream. Well then.

This is awkward.

He stares right back at Winter for a minute, not speaking, unsure what the protocol for "I wasn't myself for the the past week and now there's a woman on top of me who looks like she's thinking the same thing" is. What he does know, though, was the panic was brought on because she thought he was dead. Good a place to start as any. It'll give her a chance for an out, too, if she wants one.

He swallows, very much aware of her body on top of his (and what had transpired the night before) before speaking.]

The Vulcan heart is located where a human's liver is.

[No "good morning," no "had a great time last night." Spock is back.]

[Winter blinks, her brow dipping for only a moment of bafflement as her eyes search his.]

...You are remarkably perceptive.

[That he could discern what troubled her so easily, without Winter speaking a word, is impressive. But...giving compliments while lying on top of him is hardly appropriate. She isn't blushing, but the embarrassment is there beneath the surface, as is the spark of attraction. Everything before was dream-like. Reality is far more blunt at allowing her to feel what it's like to be this close to a man without the adrenaline of a fierce fight.]

[And her hair is a tangled mess!]

Please excuse me.

[Bracing one hand upon his chest and another on the couch, she slowly, carefully, eases herself off of him so she doesn't wind up planting a knee somewhere uncomfortable for him.]

I feel I must apologize for my previous...behavior. I was presumptuous, and crossed many personal boundaries.

[Spock doesn't comment on the perceptive comment; best not to open that "I can read your mind" can of worms after whatever had just happened. That was sure to be a recipe for disaster.

He waits until she's fully off of him (shame, the loss of heat) before shifting into a more comfortable position.]

That is unnecessary; I was not of my usual mind for the past several days myself. It was not my intention to progress our relationship that rapidly.

He takes a good long look at her. Her apology has him thinking that she really had been affected by whatever whammied him for the past week. This was the Winter he had first met.]

I hope that I did not make you uncomfortable. [Though if he did he wouldn't blame her.]

[Her head turns faintly in his direction, the shift of her gaze lingering on his face for a long moment. Relationship? It seems she isn't the only one being presumptuous. She frowns mildly. Then again, the term can be fairly neutral, so she'll give him the benefit of the doubt since he doesn't seem like the type to leap to foolish conclusions. ~~That's her job so far.~~. She smoothes her rumpled hair as unfretfully as she can manage.]

No. The blame can hardly be yours.

[If anything, her time with him had been alarmingly pleasant. And she doesn't know how tofeel about that now that her mind and former repression have both returned.]

Am I correct in believing that your attraction was limited to the previous week?

[If so, that makes this easier. But if not...]

[Her straightening of her hair makes him very much aware of the state of his own. He'd smooth his out as well if his other self hadn't put so much damn product in it.]

If you are asking if I felt any sort of attraction to you when we first met, the answer is no.

[That might be a little harsh, but he's back to Vulcan Spock now. Besides, he specifically avoided stating what his attraction is now. Honestly he's not sure himself how he feels about her. He had certainly enjoyed their time together, but he's not sure how much of the emotion that lingers is really his. Add to that all the thoughts that were in his head courtesy of other him's more toughy ways (where was his shirt??) and honestly doesn't know and likely won't until he's meditated a couple of times.]

I trust you were the same?

[No, that's not what she was asking at all. Surely if he's avoiding the topic, then he's only trying to avoid bruising her feelings...which is unnecessary, her confidence needs no reassurance. She just needs to figure out where things stand at this very moment. If that's his answer, vague or evasive as it seems, it amounts to essentially the same thing: he's not interested.]

[Very well, then.]

'Love at first sight' is an affliction for teenagers and fools. We are neither.

[Emotionally and mentally, there was no attraction. She wanted to beat him up and interrogate him. But physically, reflecting back...]

[...No, she'd rather not.]

You may use the shower, if you wish. I will brew some tea.

[She rises to her feet, smartly buttoning up her blouse while successfully pretending she isn't mortified that it came unbuttoned in the first place. At least she still has her bra.]

[Her words sing agreeance, but growing up on a planet of stoic faces has taught Spock a few things, and there's a look on it that doesn't totally agree. She's likely conflicted as well for much of the same reason Spock is. Is there a potential for a future? In the long run it's unknown. In the short run? It's a hard no, it seems, for both of them.

He was going to just throw on his shirt and be on his merry way, but a shower actually seems like a great idea right now. Wash off the other him. He's careful to keep his eye on her face as she rises, not wanting to make this any worse than it is.]

That would be appreciated.

[He rises and makes his way to the bathroom, and it's kind of weird that he just knows where it is until he remembers he spent the night here. A moment later, the sound of the shower can be heard.]

[She watches him go. It is so very strange to have another person in her apartment like this. Ironwood was the only other individual who visited her, and that had been awkward too. But no matter. She moves into the kitchen, filling a kettle with water and setting it on the stove. A little fire dust to get the flame going...]

[Once Winter hears the flow of water moving through the pipes and knows there's absolutely no one there to see or hear her, she grips the countertop so tightly that her knuckles go white, and her head falls forward.]

Oh gods...

[She hasn't felt this awkward or vulnerable since she first set foot in the halls of the Atlesian Academy all those years ago. She shuts her eyes tightly, gritting her teeth as she swallows past the tightness in her throat. What happened? How in the world is she supposed to deal with this tangle of feelings from another person's life? It's nearly impossible to discern what's real and what was just a fading memory, and it's going to take time to sort it all out.]

[Of course, from the sound of it, there's really no reason to sort it out. For him, the past week was an illusion and nothing more. Nothing more. So there's nothing to worry about, is there? And yet...]

[...For once, she'd been truly happy, after so many weeks of being miserable. Now she's supposed to just give all of that up?]

[Winter moves to the sink and turns it on, cupping her hand beneath the stream to splash some cold water on her face. This is not like her. Once she gets back into her usual routine, she'll settle back into the way things were -- for better, and for worse -- and take comfort in the familiarity. She straightens and shakes off her hand, then smooths her hair back and fastens it in place with a pair of chopsticks that her former self saw fit to keep from a previous visit to a place with Chinese take-out.]

[That is...better.]

Edited 2017-12-16 07:33 (UTC)

[In the shower, Spock is similarly trying to make sense of what had transpired between him and Winter. His shower won't take more then a few minutes so he's only able to briefly reflect on his current feelings about the situation. is eidetic memory seem to be fully functioning throughout the week, so he's able to remember everything which had occurred. He certainly can't say that he didn't enjoy his time spent with her, though any feelings beyond that he is still uncertain on. He had considered the relationship to be an amicable one beforehand, but going though this type of ordeal couldc ertainly bring two individuals to become closer to one another, though how close is yet to be seen.

Scientifically speaking, Winter is a beautiful woman. And he knew her to be intelligent from the first time they met, way before this madness began. Though, if anything, she's proven to be smarter and much more mild-mannered than he had first thought. Is that enough to constitute a romantic attraction though? He has no idea. She hadn't been herself during their dates, though he does still believe to an extent she was, just as too an extent he was still himself.

Speaking of which, he's aware that he had told one teacher several untruths about himself, and odds are she had done the same to him. They should probably start that out.

Shower complete, Spock steps out, pats himself dry, and puts on yesterday's clothing, eyeing it with disgust-they've been outside in the woods yesterday so it could probably use a wash. When he steps into the kitchen his hair is still dripping slightly onto the hem of his shirt. The sight of Winter with her hair pulled up again is the wall of reality he needs. She's back to her usual self with no lingering thoughts about him. Regardless of how he feels (if he feels), she sees nothing more than friendship between them; she'd all but admitted it.]

Is there anything I can do to assist you?

...Assist me. With tea.

[Maybe some of that playful side of her self still lingers as her face threatens to break into a smile. Then she blinks, turning her head aside. How troublesome. When she looks back to him, it's with a small shake of her head.]

That will not be necessary. I'm afraid my breakfast offerings are somewhat meager.

[She holds out a saucer with her left hand, where she's placed half a wheat roll, a smear of jam, and a cluster of green grapes. It's fortunate she has bread and fruit at all, since she normally eats rations with the rest of the troops and can't be bothered to buy easily perishable foodstuffs so long as she's in the process of training.]

Are you still amenable to your lessons in meditation?

[Spock eyes the meal, glad to see that it is not meat based. He gives a nod of acceptance.]

This will suffice.

[He takes the offered plate along with what he is assuming is Winter's tot he table. While it only takes one to make tea and prep something so simple, there are still certain ways a guest is supposed to act.

He's a little bit surprised when Winter inquires about the meditation lessons; most humans would have gone running for the hills after the past week, but she seems to be brushing it off pretty well. He's not sure whether to be offended or grateful.]

Yes, the offer still stands. I believe that you said that you were available on Fridays?

Indeed.

[She'll have to snap her life back into some semblance of order, but her previous schedule isn't about to change. Besides, the meditation might restore some semblance of clarity as to who she is...and, more importantly, who she truly wants to be. It's a lot to think about, and she doesn't think keeping herself busy with the rigors of duty is going to solve the matter.]

[Winter sips from the tea, and finds herself breathing a little easier. She regards her companion from across the table for a moment, and realizes she's glad he hasn't immediately evacuated. There is something calming about his presence and composure.]

I wish to thank you.

[She had to think about it, if this is truly what she wants to say. She's decided in favor of honesty.]

Initial alarm aside, there were moments in the previous week that I found...pleasant.

[She holds her cup in both hands, thoughtful.]

I don't easily open up to others like that. Many of the details of that past do not align with the true reality, but even so.

[She looks at him steadfastly for one long moment.]

I trust you will keep those details, false or not, confidential.

[Sip.]

Baby it's Cold Outside [CLOSED]

Hypothermia is so romantic, though!

they say red is the color of passion but nothing says I love you like turning blue for you

Da-ba-dee, baby

Re: Da-ba-dee, baby

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And the morning after...

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